Frostbound Throne: Court of Sin Book Two: Song of Winter

by Sage, May

  But he didn’t.

  After their ordeal, he would have trusted her with his life. Vale was mistrustful to the extreme; he’d never actually slept with any of his previous lovers. After fucking, he would return to his apartments or ask them to leave his. Yet he had slept next to Devi without once thinking she might take the chance to slit his throat while he was helpless.

  He felt confident he could show her his back and count on her to guard it.

  Before her, there had only been one person he could say as much about: Kallan. But Devi would lay down her life for him. She’d already done it, back in the Square of Dawn. She hadn’t counted on him to help her, and he’d seen the shock in her eyes when he turned his horse back to get to her.

  What he couldn’t, wouldn’t trust her with was this. His intimacy. His feelings. He’d never been fond of the game of affection everyone played in the Court of Night. No one ever won.

  It was perhaps why, despite his mother’s best efforts to match him, no female she’d ever introduced him to had ever tempted him until now. The ladies of his mother’s court had been raised as powerful females who knew their place: at the top of the world. They collected conquests like pearls for a necklace.

  Having sex with Devi was one thing. The danger lay in letting her touch his heart. He feared she’d already gotten too close to it.

  So slowly and regretfully, he moved farther away from her. Vale got up from the bed, walked to the curved window, and gazed down upon Elvendale, keeping his distance.

  Devi seemed confused, and with good reasons.

  Under guise of an explanation, Vale stated, “I believe my mother may have spelled me, little elf. Perhaps both of us. This thing between us is…” What was it, exactly? “… abnormal.”

  Devi frowned and repeated, “Spelled us?”

  Yes, well, that was his best theory.

  Vale nodded. “I’ve seen obsession spells in the old days. They’re outlawed in the unseelie court now; they have been since the death of Tenaliel Trenar. Do you know of her?”

  “I don’t,” Devi replied curtly.

  She was vexed, obviously.

  “She was a young beauty my mother singled out. She greeted her and invited her to court often. No one at court sang like the Lady Tenaliel. And it wasn’t the only thing she did well: she was a fantastic lover by all accounts, with the appetite of a goddess of sensuality. I had the pleasure of sharing her bed once or twice myself, and I can personally attest to the validity of those tales.”

  “Is there a point to this…” Devi paused to find her words. “… fascinating story.”

  “There is. Tenaliel refused to choose mates, although many proposed; instead of binding her fate to a handful of consorts like most females of the court, she opened her legs to whomever she wanted for centuries. In the year 2893 of this age, she took a knight as her companion. She gifted him with something she’d never given anyone else: exclusivity. It lasted for a year, perhaps two. Then Tenaliel went back to what she loved best.”

  “As was her right,” said Devi.

  Vale didn’t argue, echoing her words in agreement. “As was her right. The knight didn’t take it well, however. He paid a sorcerer to concoct an obsession spell and gave it to his lady. At first, all was well. She shunned others, male and female alike, desiring no one but him. How glad he was. How proud. Soon, they were announcing an engagement. You know how rare it is for our kind to bind ourselves to one individual for life. Sometimes, high fae agree to a hundred-year contract, mostly when the rights of succession are of some importance. My mother and father made such a vow. But marriage? That’s for the lesser fae, who won’t live long enough to regret an eternal oath. But they vowed under the stars that they would love each other until the end of time. The whole court was present to witness the oath and wish them well. It was thought a rather romantic thing at the time. The male’s machinations weren’t yet known.”

  “And then?” Devi prompted.

  Her irritation had given way to curiosity.

  “And then things changed. Tenaliel couldn’t bear to be away from her husband, not even for an instant. She screamed and yelled, driving herself mad when he had to go on guard duty, and she sobbed until he returned. Once, the knight had to leave for five days, so his beautiful, melancholic, mad wife climbed up the highest tower in Wolven Fort and threw herself down.”

  The years hadn’t made that memory less heinous.

  “My mother cared for Tenaliel a great deal, so she called the knight and questioned him until he confessed to his deeds. He was punished accordingly, and obsession spells were banned from court.”

  “What a terrible fate. I do hope his punishment was severe.”

  Vale laughed without humor. “It was certainly fitting. Mother had one last spell cast before her ban took effect. From that day onward, and until the end of his days, that knight is bound to Shea. He cannot survive without her touch, without living by her side. She took care to ensure he’d never love her, yet he’s obsessed with her. Sometimes, she denies him her presence for a few days, pushing him to the brink of despair.” Vale shook his head. “Some call me cruel, and I tell them I am my mother’s son. The court had no love for the knight after his betrayal, but now, five hundred years later, there is no one among us who doesn’t pity him.”

  “You talk of Drake,” Devi guessed. “I noticed that he seems to adore and despise Shea. I did wonder why.”

  Smart female.

  Vale acquiesced and finished his point. “You understand, now, why we cannot allow a spell to take root. It is dangerous, for you and me alike.”

  “I know what an obsession spell is, I’ve read about it,” she told him, rolling her eyes. “It makes you incapable of thinking about anything else but the person it bound you to. If either of us had been hexed, we most definitely wouldn’t have been able to talk of Isle politics.”

  She had a point.

  “Besides,” Devi added, “it’s entirely impossible.”

  Vale insisted, “I know my mother. Whatever else she may have trained you to be, trust me when I say that what she’s turned you into is a perfect uterus meant to grow my seed.”

  And as he said it, Vale suddenly understood why. Devi had professed to possess every godly power, and she was almost right. She may be versed in the four elements, but there was one divine ability she still lacked. The most powerful one, arguably. His. Power over minds. The one skill she didn’t have was the strength to read thoughts, manipulate people, and make them suffer. Shea had bound them because she loved nothing more than power, and if he and Devi were to have a child, the babe could be blessed with all five powers. Mind and matter in one tiny grasp.

  Vale wondered if the other part of him had seen it first. Perhaps that was why the darkness inside him, which cared for no one and nothing beyond his own satisfaction, seemed to value her so.

  Devi left her bed and walked out of the room. Belatedly, he noted his lady was more than a little put out.

  Vale replayed his choice of words and winced. He had been harsh. Vale followed her, unwilling to part ways on such terms.

  “Devi—”

  She made no response, moving easily in the smooth black stone corridors outside her doors. Tall elves in thin clothing passed them, their dresses billowing in the wind. There was no glass in the thousands of large, curved windows flanked by pillars, yet none appeared to feel the bitter cold. They bent their heads to Devi, hands over their hearts. She stopped and returned each of their greetings. When their eyes slid to him, they were cold but curious. He inclined his head.

  After passing through five corridors and two halls, they reached a wet room with dozens of large natural pools. Three were occupied; it didn’t faze her.

  He understood. She wanted to put an end to their conversation, and so she’d chosen a public venue. No doubt she had a bathroom next to her large rooms upstairs.

  Vale went in after her.

  “I didn’t wish to offend you. I simply know my mother bet
ter than you do, although she speaks to you more than I.”

  She stared at him without a word.

  “And I didn’t mean to say I’m approaching you because of a spell. You’re lovely, as you well know. I would have wanted you without any interference. But my natural inclination might have been more along the lines of desiring you for an hour and then wanting you far away. This is different. It… doesn’t feel like me.”

  Vale sensed a bond tethering them, as if an oath forced his hands. Trapping him.

  He decided against saying it out loud. Devi seemed one insult away from kicking him in the balls.

  He immediately saw when she changed her approach. There was a glint in her eyes, and she stifled a smile. Vale considered taking a cautious step back. He’d seen that look before—in his mother’s eyes a time or two, for one. The night when she condemned Drake to his torment, she’d borne such a look.

  To ensure she was comfortable as she rested, Devi had been uncloaked and unbooted, but she was still dressed as she’d been when they’d left Elham, in his shirt, and leather breeches.

  Eyes set on him, unblinking, she started to remove her clothing. Slowly, she peeled her breeches from her slender limbs and stood before him in his shirt. It was pure white and thin enough for him to see her nipples through the fabric. The shirt drowned her, but in the dim light of the declining moon shining through the bare window, he could see the outline of each of her curves.

  Fucking delicious.

  Her undressing was no invitation—her smug look made that clear. It was punishment. Showing him what he was missing.

  Remaining where he stood took all his self-control.

  “I’m not vexed,” she finally said.

  Then Devi slid out of his shirt and stood in all her perfect bare glory for one instant, making him watch how delicious she was: firm, toned limbs, golden skin, wide hips. Because of her strict workout routine as an apprentice protector, her body was athletic yet her figure was so feminine. Her breasts—perfect handfuls—belonged in his mouth.

  She turned, and his throat went dry. She’d kept the most glorious part of herself for last. Her generous round ass was downright sinful.

  She stepped into one of the steaming pools.

  “I find your theory fascinating. Be that as it may, it is—as I said earlier—impossible. If you’ve only heard of scions two nights ago, you may not know that fae sorcery doesn’t work on us. It would be akin to attempting to tame a lion with catnip. Spells only work on the weak. The gods and their direct descendants use elemental magic to harm each other by affecting the nature around them. The reason Orin was feared and obeyed among the gods and scions, even before he was crowned, is because his power is the one thing capable of altering their minds. Either of us could drink an obsession spell, or a potion meant to kill us, for that matter, and it might as well be a cup of tea.”

  He stood there open-mouthed and then protested, “There’s little information about our kind at all. I hadn’t heard a thing about scions before my mother mentioned them. She may have led you to believe that so you wouldn’t suspect—”

  Devi cut him off. “I don’t suppose you know how my mother was killed?”

  He didn’t. When he explored her mind an eternity ago, he’d let go after seconds, minutes at most. He hadn’t dug for everything. And if he’d heard of Loxy Rivers before meeting her daughter, he’d forgotten about her. She’d been of no consequence.

  The female soon enlightened him. “A death potion added to our wine. Everyone died. Everyone but me. Trust me, I asked why.”

  Further protests died on his lips.

  Devi added challengingly, “Do healing potions and salves help you, Vale? In fact, does anything unnatural affect you?”

  He thought it out. Nectar certainly affected his mind, as did wine and ale if he drank enough of it. But they were all derived from natural fruits and grains, not hexes and spells.

  “Charms,” he replied. When he was hurt, only elemental charms, such as the one she’d used on her ankle, sped up the healing process. “You used a healing spell—on your ankle.”

  “I used a charm that works with elemental energy,” she amended. “And all it does is hasten my own healing abilities by stimulating my cells. I’m talking of curses and hexes. You’ve lived for over seven centuries, and you have a gift for infuriating everyone around you. Surely many have attempted to harm you. Give me one example of fae magic addling your brain, Blackthorn.”

  As he ran through his memory, none came to mind. Every occasion he thought of he dismissed, realizing the only times magic had worked against him, it had been elemental magic, as she’d said.

  How come he’d never noticed before? When a hex had been cast against him, it had bounced off him. He’d assumed the mage wasn’t very good at it.

  “That’s what I thought,” Devi said once he’d remained silent for some time. “Glad we cleared this up. You can go now. I’d like to bathe in peace.”

  He was dismissed, just like that.

  She had told him his baffling, potent need for her was real, and now she didn’t want to act on it because he’d been stupid enough to question it.

  He smirked as he watched her purposefully ignore him.

  “My, isn’t this quaint? A female who presumes to treat me like a weakling she can control. Have it your way, little elf. Let us play this game of cat and mouse. It has been long since I’ve had a chase.”

  On that note, he retreated.

  Three

  The Poison Fruit

  The previous afternoon, when they arrived at this strange, cold, black city carved atop the highest mount in the northern Graywoods, Vale should have directly asked to be taken to the elven king who ruled over these eerie lands, but Devi’s condition hadn’t allowed it.

  The gash on her forehead had healed within minutes, but she’d remained unconscious.

  A quick sweep of her mind had revealed there was nothing to worry about—she was simply exhausted. They’d slept perhaps five hours in the Valley of Doom. It seemed so long ago already. Yet he’d watched over her until she opened her eyes.

  With her health no longer a concern, he could see to other matters.

  Power had a feel, a scent, to those who were blessed with magic. As soon as he’d set foot on the steps leading up to Elvendale, he’d sensed a potent source.

  Valerius followed his instincts blindly, his steps leading him out of the majestic residence and down a snowy path. No wonder his mother had told him to wear warm clothing up here. Unlike elves, he keenly felt the bitter cold—less so than common fae, but enough to be grateful for his fur lining. He lived in the north, yet never had he known such dreadful conditions. At Carvenstone, they’d opted to carve their homes under the mountain, and they kept fires through the fall and winter.

  The winding path slithered up the snow mountain flank and opened to a garden where a small company had gathered. The snow and wind blew from every direction, making it hard to see despite his acute vision, but the elves hardly noticed the raging storm. They all wore plain tunics, comfortable in light clothing. An elegant male played a viola, and a youngling sat next to him, singing rather delightfully.

  Three males and two females in armor stood, stiff and formal, around the gathering, and an older elf with long white hair sat surveying it all. A crow of white plumage was perched on his shoulder.

  A little farther, near a bush of white roses that should not have been thriving in this weather, a few elves were engaged in a game of chess while three couples danced elegantly around them. They were all so joyful, enjoying simple pleasures with no worries.

  Valerius stood before the high lords of the Graywoods of Wyvern. If that small group, those two dozen creatures, had risen against the army that had taken Asra, they might have been victorious. A fantasy. Those twenty-five elves would never fight for the Isle. They minded their borders and remained indifferent to what lay beyond. They’d only joined the War of the Realms because the fae had been foolish enoug
h to attack their lands.

  Valerius advanced and stopped before the guards.

  “May I pass?”

  “And what purpose would you serve if we let you?” one of the three elves asked pleasantly and mockingly. It was the tone one used with children, as indulgent as it was condescending.

  Valerius took no offense, suspecting he spoke to a creature who’d seen at least twice as many winters as he had.

  “I’d have words with Elden Star.”

  “You may, if Elden Star wishes to have words with you.”

  Valerius’s eyes returned to the plainly dressed musician. “Let us ask him when he’s done playing, lest we interrupt a beautiful song.”

  That the humble musician, and not one of the listeners, was master of this court would have been no secret to any decent psychic, but Valerius needn’t use his gift tonight. He’d identified Elden by his hazel eyes, which would have better suited a wild cat. Hazel eyes that had become familiar.

  The lord of the Winter Court and king to all elves surprised Valerius in many ways. For one, he seemed so young, just like his own mother. An idiot with no knowledge of auras, power, and magic might have mistaken him as a boy of twenty not yet done growing. The energy around him was telling another tale, buzzing, listening to his will as though nature itself feared his wrath. This “boy” might even have intimidated Shea. Seeing the father explained many things about the daughter.

  Elden Star finished his song, and the white crow flew from the elder male to alight on his master’s shoulder now that it wouldn’t hinder his movements. The elf stroked the bird’s back, and then those familiar eyes fixed on Vale, demanding he submit. Vale inclined his head politely but kept his eyes on the elf. Being cordial was important, but he would not look down. Showing his neck to a tiger would be utterly foolish.

  A smile curved the corners of the king’s mouth.

  “I heard you brought me my daughter harmed at dawn.”