Torched

by Donna Grant

  “You act as if you doona want her to die.”

  “Magic is a precious commodity that is slowly being erased from this realm. Why kill one of the most powerful Druids around?” Ulrik asked.

  Con’s face was impassive. “I’m surprised you’re no’ trying to turn her to your side. Or have you, and she refused you?”

  Ulrik was pretty sure the kiss was anything but a refusal, but he didn’t bother saying that. “As I told you before, Eilish wants information. Mikkel has it and is using it to get her to do whatever he wants.”

  “And you know what information she’s looking for.”

  “I do.”

  A small frown furrowed Con’s brow. “Then why no’ tell me?”

  “And make it easy for you?” Ulrik asked, a brow raised.

  “If I didna know better, I’d think you were willing to do anything to keep the Druid from Mikkel.”

  “There’s much you doona know about me.”

  Con blinked, shock flashing over his face for a heartbeat before it was masked once more. “You want to save her.”

  For half a second, Ulrik almost told Con everything. Their conversation while in his mountain had harkened back to the days before he was banished, when he and Con shared everything, a time when there had been no secrets or animosity between them.

  It would be so easy to fall back into that. But Ulrik had suffered too much, endured too much—and planned too long to allow that to happen.

  Thankfully, Ulrik held his tongue. Their friendship was finished. It had been incinerated long, long ago when Con bound his magic and banished Ulrik.

  Con rose to his feet. “You came to me the other day, remember?”

  “I came to see my dragons. You happened to be there.”

  “You didna have to show yourself.”

  Ulrik dropped his arms to his sides. “It galls you to know I’ve been on Dreagan and within the mountains without your knowledge, does it no’?”

  “If you want to save the Druid, you should tell me all you know.”

  That wasn’t going to happen. Ulrik wanted Eilish away from Mikkel. If she didna want his help, then he’d nudge her in the direction of Dreagan. And Ulrik knew the perfect King to help her—Nikolai.

  “Fine,” Con stated. “But if you want more intel from Ryder’s searches, you ask me. If your pride doesna get in the way.”

  “My pride?” Ulrik asked, taken aback.

  Con turned on his heel and walked away. Over his shoulder, he said, “That’s what I said.”

  Long after he was gone, Ulrik remained in the same spot. His mind was in turmoil. All his thoughts were in utter chaos. He wasn’t sure when it had begun exactly, but he’d started to question some decisions and actions he’d made.

  Even a hundred years before, he would never have helped Nikolai. It wouldn’t have mattered whether he raised him or not. Ulrik’s hatred had encompassed all the Dragon Kings.

  When had that changed to be directed only at Con? Constantine was the root of it all, yes, but the others had made their decisions to bind Ulrik’s magic, as well. Not a single one of them—not Nikolai, not Sebastian, not Anson—had stood with him.

  To have the dragons who were his brethren turn against him was a blow that went deep, leaving a vicious scar. The Ulrik who had given so much of himself to not just his clan but all dragons was left with nothing.

  He’d been stripped of who he was, forced to live out his days as a mortal. The Kings had stood behind Constantine, watching Ulrik with cold detachment.

  Friends he had always been there for, the dragons he’d helped and known for thousands of years. He’d learned just how little any of that meant.

  The Ulrik who had looked at life as a gift had withered and died that day.

  And the Ulrik who took his place was one who thought of no one but himself.

  It was that Ulrik who would survive.

  It was that Ulrik who would get his revenge.

  It was that Ulrik who would live on.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Westport, Ireland

  Manipulation was entirely too easy. Mikkel almost wished it were a little harder, but mortals were selfish, needy beings that would do anything for the right price.

  Oddly enough, many accepted a very low price.

  Harriet Smythe was just such a human. Then again, it was her malicious nature that worked to his advantage. It didn’t hurt that she believed any association with him would save her. She’d discover soon enough that there was nothing that could prevent her death.

  But for the moment, she was an asset. A lovely one at that. He watched her pour tea in his study before rising from the chair and bringing him a cup.

  She smiled, her blond hair pulled back in an intricate, twisted bun. The navy, A-line skirt showed off her pretty legs while the red-and-navy print, silk shirt hung becomingly over her breasts.

  “Thank you,” he told her as he accepted the cup.

  She turned and sauntered her way back to the chair, swinging her hips so that it drew his gaze. She sat, crossing one ankle over the other before pouring her own tea. Then, in her British accent, said, “I’ve been thinking that Eilish’s magic could still be within Kinsey and Esther. We could use that to our advantage.”

  “The two have already managed to break the Druid’s hold.”

  Harriet shrugged, her blue eyes twinkling with glee. “The Dragon Kings might’ve broken Eilish’s hold over them, but I doubt they were able to erase all of the magic. Not after how deeply Eilish went into their minds. What would it hurt to try?”

  He took a drink of the tea, thinking about the steps he’d put into play at Kyvor with Harriett and her boss, Stanley Upton. Harriett had gotten away from the Kings, but Stanley hadn’t been so fortunate. “None, I suppose. But why?”

  “To remind the Dragon Kings that their time here is coming to an end. Why not scare them?”

  He set the teacup down on his desk. “You believe this will frighten the Dragon Kings? My dear, it’s going to take much more than that.”

  “It’ll terrify Kinsey and Esther.” Harriet’s smile grew. “And when the Kings are unable to help the mates, then they’ll feel fear.”

  Mikkel drummed his fingers on his desk, considering her words. “You may have a point.”

  “They took Stanley. I want them to give him back.”

  “And you believe that by having Eilish scare those two mates, that the Kings will come to us, Upton in hand, and hand him over to stop whatever the Druid is doing?”

  Harriet sat back, her lips pinched as she grumpily turned her gaze away. “You make it sound childish that way.”

  “Because it is. I’ve been working against the Dragon Kings for thousands of years. Patience is the key.”

  “Stanley and I don’t have thousands of years,” she snapped, setting down her teacup angrily. “We’re not immortal.”

  He shrugged, uncaring of her dilemma.

  She surged to her feet and actually stamped a foot as she fisted her hands at her sides. “Then why am I bloody here?” she yelled.

  “I’d think twice about talking to me in such a way,” he said in a cold tone. “You’re the inferior being. If there was one thing my nephew got right, it was killing mortals.”

  Harriet’s face paled, her blue eyes filling with fear as she slowly sank back onto the chair. “You said I’d be safe with you,” she replied in a whisper.

  “And so you are. Just remember your place.”

  “Of course.”

  He didn’t bother to hide his smile when she picked up her cup, her hand shaking enough that it rattled in the saucer.

  “What do we do now?” she asked before taking a sip of tea.

  “I’ve given Eilish two days to kill Ulrik. My nephew has outlived his usefulness.”

  “The Dragon Kings will discover you once Ulrik is dead.”

  Mikkel smiled. “Yes, they will.”

  “I don’t understand,” Harriett said, confusion marring her face.
<
br />   “You’re not meant to. Now, run along. I’ve a meeting with Taraeth.”

  Harriet licked her lips and looked at him eagerly. “May I please meet the King of the Dark? I’ve heard you talk about him so much, and I’ve never met a Fae.”

  It was actually an easy way to be rid of Harriett when the time came, Mikkel realized. Taraeth would be happy for the gift, and Harriett would experience untold pleasure as Taraeth slowly drained away her soul.

  “Not this time. Now, go,” he commanded.

  Mikkel then summoned the Dark Fae who was always near to take him to the Dark Palace. Despite all the magic the dragons had, they couldn’t teleport as the Fae did. That was the one advantage the Fae had over the Dragon Kings.

  When the Dark appeared, a silent, brooding male with close-cropped, black-and-silver hair, Mikkel demanded he be brought to the palace. The Dark touched his arm, and in the next second, Mikkel was standing outside the throne room.

  The two guards on either side of the double doors opened them to allow Mikkel access. He strode inside, eager to get the meeting with Taraeth underway.

  “Ulrik will be dead by tomorrow so we sh—” He trailed off when he found only Balladyn within.

  The Dark raised a brow and grinned. “Oh, please do go on.”

  “I’ll wait for Taraeth.”

  Mikkel had never liked Balladyn, and he loathed the Irish accents all Fae had. Balladyn wasn’t a natural-born Dark, and he had once been high-ranking within the Light. Mikkel wasn’t entirely sure Balladyn had relinquished his ties to them.

  “Of course,” Balladyn said.

  Mikkel turned toward the red velvet sofas, but they were gone. Two sleek, black leather chairs were now in their place. He hesitated only a second before sinking onto one of them.

  Balladyn, dressed in all black, walked slowly around the room. His black-and-silver hair fell midway down his back. Mikkel wanted to tell him that he looked ridiculous with the braids at his temples, pulling back the top half of his hair, but then again, the Dark knew nothing of fashion.

  “You know,” Balladyn said, scratching his nose. “You’re not supposed to sit until the King gives you permission.”

  “Taraeth doesn’t mind.” Mikkel held Balladyn’s gaze, daring him to do something.

  Balladyn’s lips curved into a smile before he pivoted and walked to the throne. He stood before it and turned to face Mikkel. And then he sat.

  Just as Mikkel was about to tell him to get out of Taraeth’s chair, the implication of Balladyn’s actions hit him.

  “It finally sinks in,” Balladyn said with a soft chuckle. “Ah, the look on your face. The total astonishment and alarm, not to mention the disbelief, is priceless. I’ve waited for this moment since the first time you walked into this palace.”

  “When did you become king?”

  Balladyn’s smile disappeared. His red eyes stared threateningly at Mikkel. “That doesn’t fekking concern you. No longer will the Dark be at your beck and call. Whatever alliance you had with Taraeth died when he did.”

  “Perhaps I misstepped.” It grated on Mikkel’s nerves to say such a thing, but he needed the Dark. So he would do what he had to in order to pacify Balladyn, but all that would change when Mikkel was King of Dragon Kings.

  “You’ve done nothing but misstep,” Balladyn stated as he rose to his feet and walked to Mikkel. “You walk around as if you own the Dark and this wretched realm. You come to Taraeth asking for his aid, and you shove it down the Fae’s throat.”

  Mikkel scooted to the edge of the chair. “The arrangement Taraeth and I had was beneficial to us both. He would help me get onto Dreagan, and I’d give him the weapon.”

  “I know the deal you made.” Balladyn’s nostrils flared, his hate evident in his gaze. “Tell me, what is the weapon?”

  Mikkel thought quickly. He didn’t know what the damn weapon was. It was simply by chance that he even knew of its existence, and only because Taraeth had told him how Ulrik shared that bit of news. “You have to see it to fully appreciate it.”

  “Just as I figured, you don’t know what it is.”

  “I can get it for you.” Mikkel knew he was fast losing what little leverage he had.

  Balladyn chuckled. “It really is too bad Ulrik isn’t here.”

  Mikkel realized his intention right before the blade appeared in Balladyn’s hand. He sent out a wave of magic that acted as a shield right before Balladyn’s arm swung around and the sword slammed against it.

  “You can’t kill me,” Mikkel said as he got to his feet.

  Balladyn grinned. “Are you sure about that? You’re not a Dragon King. You’re nothing but a dragon stuck in human form.”

  Mikkel began to doubt himself. Maybe Balladyn could kill him. He wasn’t going to wait around to find out. He ran from the room to where he knew a Fae doorway was. Since he couldn’t see it, he had to hope that it was there.

  Behind him, he heard Balladyn’s laughter. “Run, Mikkel,” Balladyn shouted. “Your time is drawing to a close.”

  Mikkel jumped through where he thought the Fae doorway was and found himself in an alley behind a building and immediately drenched from the rain. He straightened, ignoring the cold, and looked around at everything. He heard people talking and realized he was still in Ireland.

  After a glance back, he began to walk quickly. He pulled out his phone and hit the app for his location. Anger ripped through him when he realized he was two hours from his estate in Ireland.

  He walked down the alley to the sidewalk and located a pub. Then he called for his car. The time he had to wait for a ride would allow him to cool his irritation and see how this new complication affected his plans.

  Mikkel yanked open the door to the establishment and walked inside, taking a booth toward the back. He might have lost the support of the Dark, but at least Ulrik would be dead and gone soon. He had felt the intensity of Eilish’s powers. If there was ever a Druid who could do damage to a Dragon King, it was her. And she wanted the information he had on her mum badly enough to kill Ulrik.

  Once he was King of Silvers, Mikkel would go after Balladyn. They’d see how confident and cocky the new Dark King was then.

  Mikkel could hardly wait until that time. He hoped Ulrik died within the next couple of hours as he waited for his car. Then Mikkel could shift in front of all the mindless mortals drinking and stuffing their faces with food.

  Their screams of terror would be music to his ears.

  And he wouldn’t wait long to challenge Con. That’s where Eilish would come in handy again—assuming Mikkel couldn’t kill him outright. Mikkel knew how powerful Con was. It had been a long time since anyone made Con battle in such a way. Yet Mikkel had been training for this in his mind from the moment he became a Dragon King, and the power was taken from him again.

  Though, he should thank Con. Had the King of Dragon Kings not taken action against Ulrik, Mikkel wouldn’t have tasted what it felt like to have the power of a Dragon King surge through him.

  It had been amazing. He’d waited an eternity for his brother to die. Mikkel had even challenged him at one point, but Ualan had simply laughed it off.

  Even when Mikkel attacked him, Ualan had bested him in a few moves and told him to go home. That’s when Mikkel had really begun to hate him. It was also when he began plotting Ualan’s death.

  It had taken just a few whispered words to the King of Ivories for a battle to brew over territory. Ualan had died, but Mikkel hadn’t become King. The honor had gone to Ulrik. It had been unbearable to watch his young nephew take the reins of such a responsibility.

  However, Mikkel couldn’t repeat what he’d done with Ualan. Ulrik was shrewd, even more so than his father. As soon as Ulrik was King, he’d gone to the King of Ivories, and they’d come to an agreement.

  It was hundreds of years later as Mikkel stewed in his fury that the answer for how to get rid of Ulrik came to him. It was in the form of a beautiful human woman who Ulrik had fallen in love with
. Nala had been so easy to manipulate and frighten.

  It had only taken a few words, and she’d done the rest. In all his planning, Mikkel never imagined the divide between the Kings, or that Ulrik would have his magic bound and be banished from Dreagan.

  But it all had a silver lining. Because shortly, the title of King of Silvers would finally be Mikkel’s.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Why did one kiss make her think of nothing else? Eilish found herself touching her lips constantly. Worse, she couldn’t stop thinking about Ulrik.

  She hadn’t tried to sleep. She’d known better. Instead, she stood at her window and watched the sun come up. A shower and a change of clothes later, and her mind was still locked on the King of Silvers.

  “Damn him,” she muttered.

  She made her way down to the pub. There was something about walking into Graves when it was empty and silent that appealed to her. She did it every day. It was a reminder of what she had created.

  Though if some of her clientele had their way, Graves would remain open twenty-four hours a day. Eilish liked the way things were now. If only they would stay the same, but nothing ever remained stagnant.

  Change was par for the course, and she knew it was coming.

  She’d sensed it for over a year. Right about the time Mikkel had walked into Graves. If only she’d known then what she knew now. But hindsight was 20/20. She’d always hated that saying, but it was never more appropriate than at this moment.

  Her cell phone vibrated in her hand. She lifted it to see a text from her father. If Patrick was her father. She still didn’t know the truth of that. And maybe now was the time. Not that she wanted to hurt Patrick. He had been an amazing dad, but she had to know the truth.

  About everything.

  Eilish clicked her finger rings together while thinking of The Porterhouse in London. In a blink, she was standing on the sidewalk before the pub.

  “Oy,” a man said as he slammed into her. “Watch where yer going,” he grumbled.

  “Sorry,” she said as he mumbled under his breath and walked around her.

  Eilish had stood at the front of the pub just a few days earlier. She had so many questions about her past. Those inquiries had taken her to Ireland, and now London. She’d searched and visited numerous places and people, looking to find some clues.