Curse of the Fae King

by Delia E Castel

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated.

  Drayce drew back and fashioned the scales over his brow into a frown.

  “You told me not to look at the howlers,” I said. “This is all my fault.”

  He said something and then grinned.

  “I said the name wrong, but I’ve forgotten what you called them.”

  Drayce hugged me tighter, and his chest vibrated with laughter. When the chuckles subsided, he released me, and I drew back. I must have looked like a wild thing because he threaded his fingers through my garish, orange strands, smoothing them back to a semblance of normalcy.

  The caress of his leathery skin sent tiny shockwaves racing over my scalp, making my breath quicken. My lips parted, and I gazed up into his face. His pupils had rounded, appearing like black circles with the tiniest ring of green. He was staring at my lips.

  I swallowed, sliding my hands over his thick, leather armor to his hard chest, silently urging him to kiss me. To make me forget that we’d almost died.

  But he didn’t. With a heaving sigh, he turned to Enbarr and took up the reins. The skeletal horse’s wings sliced through the air, propelling us forward.

  “Drayce?”

  He tilted his head to the side, eyes wide. That was when I realized that this was the first time I’d addressed him by name.

  All this time, I hadn’t shown him an inkling of friendship or trust. I had needed his protection, needed to keep him alive and close, but I had never told him that my resentment had changed to affection and respect. I slid my hand over his shoulder, threaded my fingers through his silken hair, and pulled his head down to mine.

  At first, he stilled, as though not believing I had been so forward. Then his lips moved against mine. The kiss was soft and warm and chaste. An appreciation that we had survived after hurtling through the air. But I wanted more. And this time, nothing would stop us.

  I ran a hand over his leather-clad thigh and squeezed. It was something I’d seen women doing in taverns with men they would entertain for the night, and it had always seemed to ignite the flames of their ardor. A deep vibration, not dissimilar to a moan, reverberated in Drayce’s chest. I still couldn’t hear anything, but I took that as my cue to slip my tongue between his lips.

  His fingers tightened around my back, bringing us closer until it felt like our hearts throbbed in unison. It was a long, languid kiss of hot breath, caressing tongues, and roving hands.

  My fingers skittered to the buckle holding the collar of his jacket, needing to feel more of him than just his hands and face. Drayce broke the kiss, covering my hand with his. He drew back, regret shining in his eyes, and spoke words I still couldn’t hear.

  A hairline crack formed on my heart, and I tapped my ear. I could guess that he was asking me to be patient again. There was a benefit to having damaged my hearing. His words no longer hurt.

  I tore my gaze away from the pity in his eyes. “Let’s go.”

  Enbarr continued around the diamond mountain, which wasn’t as transparent as it had appeared from the distance. Without the direct sunlight shining through it, its myriad of facets and surface groves rendered it opaque.

  “Are we near the sword?” I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice and focused on Father. With him imprisoned and enduring unknown tortures, it was selfish of me to be frustrated about my lack of progress with Drayce.

  Enbarr dove down toward a dark spot close to the base of the mountain. It turned out to be an opaque cave with milky-white stalactites hanging from the ceiling as thin as the needles that had shot out of the Keeper’s mouth. Most were as long as my arm, but some reached the ground.

  “Where’s the sword?” I asked.

  Drayce clamped a hand over my mouth, and I cringed. Did something dangerous lurk within the cave? He let go and pressed a finger to his lips.

  “Sorry!” I mouthed.

  As we progressed, the ceiling lowered, and the walls narrowed, giving Enbarr little space to accommodate his outstretched wing bones. He landed, allowing Drayce and me to dismount. Drayce patted Enbarr on his spine, and a curl of smoke billowed out from the skeleton’s nasal bone.

  We rounded a curtain of stalactites, and Drayce pointed into a corner. I craned my neck, squinting into the dark. The shadows parted to reveal the golden hilt of a sword embedded in a boulder of flint.

  “This is it?” It was an obvious question, but I had to ask.

  Drayce nodded, and I tiptoed over the uneven, stone floor toward the sword, glancing from side to side for whatever might jump out of the shadows. My ears still rang, so I couldn’t rely on my hearing.

  Stepping forward, I wrapped a hand around the golden hilt, expecting it to be cold, but it thrummed with power. My heart pounded, and my tongue darted out to lick my dry lips. This was the last of the three items Queen Melusina needed to free the Fomorians. I already knew the location of the Book of Brigid, and I hadn’t yet shared that with Drayce. As soon as I retrieved the Sword of Tethra, we needed to hide or destroy it.

  With all my strength, I wrenched at the blade but no sooner had I pulled it out of the stone than a woman drifted through the wall. Her skin was as milky as the stalactites, and her coal-black hair flowed behind her like a cloak. The ghastly figure wore a dress of grey smoke, which turned into wisps at the hems.

  A series of palpitations tore through my heart. My throat dried, and I held up the weapon, ready to slice her if she approached.

  Her eyes, red-rimmed from crying, fixed upon the hilt of the sword. Then they flickered to my face.

  Banshee.

  This was one of the first creatures I had read about in the leather book, largely because they were commonplace in Bresail. Banshees were specters, creatures of air and smoke, who could not touch the physical. Unlike the Dullahan, who acted as executioners, Banshees were only the harbingers of death. Compared to most faeries, they were harmless, but I wouldn’t lower my guard.

  The book had said they wore green dresses, and there had been no mention of talons as black as obsidian and sharp as diamonds. And the book certainly hadn’t mentioned needle-like teeth.

  Gulping, I took a step back. She was only a spirit. No more harmful than a will o’ the wisp.

  The banshee glided toward me through the air, snapping the stalactites as though they were twigs. Every ounce of blood drained from my face, and I staggered back, bumping into Drayce’s chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Banshees were not supposed to be solid.

  That’s when I noticed the tiny crown of obsidian on her head. I didn’t have time to contemplate what that meant, as her face twisted into a feral glower.

  Then she opened her mouth and screamed.

  Chapter 17

  Drayce wrapped an arm around my waist and backed us away from the wailing banshee. Although I couldn’t hear her cry, it didn’t stop me from recoiling at how her jaw stretched down to her sagging bosom and revealed more of those terrible needle-like teeth. Between them hung the kind of long, black tongue I’d only seen in cows that had eaten blackberries.

  When she stopped wailing, she stared at me, brow creased. Then her head tilted to the side, and her lips moved. Perhaps it was a warning, perhaps it was a curse, it might have even been a question, but the ringing in my ears from the wind howlers blocked out all sound.

  Still backing away, I opened my mouth to tell her I couldn’t hear but slammed it shut. Telling her of my immunity to her greatest weapon would only encourage her to use another mode of attack.

  Frustration flashed across the banshee’s face. It twisted into a scowl, her talons curved, and she wailed once more. This time, she threw her head back, aiming the sound at the cave’s ceiling. Stalactites shook, and some splintered and fell to the ground like sleet.

  When one of the shards scratched my hand and drew blood, my stomach dropped. The banshee was trying to collapse the cave!

  Drayce grabbed my cut hand, and we raced through the cavern. Stalactites fell all around us, and I kept my head down, arms c
lose to my side to avoid further injury.

  As we reached the exit, something caught the hood of my cloak and yanked me into the air. The leather fabric pulled at my collar, constricting my neck, and choking my air. Coughing, I pulled at the material, but my weight and writhing movements only tightened the noose.

  Drayce spun, unsheathed his sword, and slashed at the banshee’s leg. Whatever he did didn’t work because the specter made no reaction—not even to swat him away.

  She ignored him and twisted her arm, holding me to meet eyes so bulbous, so bloodshot, every vessel on their sclera stood out like a tapestry of carnage.

  Terror gripped my heart and shook it loose. With my free hand, I reached for my iron dagger and threw it into the banshee’s head. It was as useless as tossing it through campfire smoke.

  Drayce’s further attacks also went through the banshee. She was a specter, yet somehow, she could touch me. A black talon swiped at my face. I raised the sword to block, but her fingers drifted through its blade. The palm of my free hand shot up as a shield, and she sliced through my flesh with her sharp, black nails.

  Burning pain, far worse than cutting myself with a knife, seared through the palm of my hand. I shot Drayce a pleading look. Couldn’t he control her with his death magic? From the anger burning in his eyes as he clenched and unclenched his fists, he was just as helpless as me.

  The banshee threw back her head and laughed. I was glad to be deaf because I didn’t want to hear her gloat. With the kind of glee I’d only ever seen in the likes of Shona, the mayor’s daughter, the banshee made the effort to mime that she would pluck out my eyes and swallow them whole.

  A whimper reverberated in my throat. I couldn’t end like this. The plaything of a malevolent being. I gripped the handle of the sword with both hands. A useless effort, but I couldn’t just hang there and let her torture me. Blood trickled from my cut palm to the blade and dripped on the cave floor.

  Enbarr charged. Drayce jumped on his back, holding his own sword in a two-handed grip, his eyes wild and desperate. He jabbed the air as though telling me to do the same.

  The banshee’s black tongue darted out to lick her shriveled lips, and she drew her hand back, clawing her fingers as though poised to take my eyes.

  I jabbed at the creature with the Sword of Tethra.

  A hole appeared in the middle of her chest. The monster’s lips moved, probably to demand to know what I had done to her. Before she could throw me against the ceiling, the banshee’s torso dissolved into white mist.

  As she disintegrated into wisps, her grip loosened. A fierce determination crushed her features, she shot out a hand to deal a final blow, but she was no longer solid.

  The foul smoke filled my throat with the sensation of inhaling flying ash. I plummeted to the ground, but Drayce caught me by the middle and pulled me onto the saddle.

  I doubled over, hacking out the last traces of the banshee from my lungs. Drayce rubbed my back, the vibrations of his chest against me a soothing balm. Traces of sound seeped into my ears, but I still couldn’t make out the words. At least inhaling the banshee’s smoke had dulled the ringing in my ears.

  “Well done.” His words were muffled, and that’s what I thought he said.

  Enbarr turned and galloped out of the cavern into the sunlit day. My eyes watered, and I continued to hack up specs of banshee, tears streaming from my irritated eyes.

  In the distance, a troop of soldiers headed toward us. It seemed that General Creach had found a healer quicker than I’d hoped.

  “We have to hide the sword,” I said.

  Enbarr flew down to a plateau of smooth diamond, and we dismounted. He opened one of the saddlebags. A long spine flopped out from its depths—the bone whip the Dullahan used to attack the soldiers. Drayce smirked and pushed it back inside.

  I shook my head and suppressed a smile.

  He pulled out a golden sword almost identical to the one I had retrieved from the stone. The real Sword of Tethra’s blade was silver and still encrusted with my blood, whereas the blade of the forgery was golden. It didn’t matter, as it had been impossible to see what that part of the sword had looked like when it had been encased in that stone to the hilt.

  I handed him the Sword of Tethra, and he gave me the forgery. Then he hid it in the saddlebag, and we walked to the base of the mountain and waited for the soldiers.

  Sunlight reflected off the diamond surfaces, its heat making me writhe. Or perhaps the banshee’s ashes still lingered on my skin. I pushed away those thoughts. We needed to focus on the approaching enemies.

  Drayce placed both hands on my shoulders. “Are you all right?”

  At least that’s what I think he said from the tone. “Are you asking if I’m all right?”

  He nodded.

  “I think so.” I must have shouted because a tiny smile curved his lips. “My ears are still ringing.”

  He wrapped his arms around me, engulfing me in his warm, leather scent. One of his hands slid to the small of my back, which he rubbed with tight, little circles. It was the balm I needed for nerves frayed by that terrible windstorm and the banshee attack. Relief washed over me like a summer rain. We had retrieved the two most challenging items. As soon as we escaped the approaching soldiers, I would tell him about the Book of Bridgit, and we would retrieve it from our house in Calafort.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  He drew back, scales furrowing into a frown, and moved his lips. It looked like he was asking why.

  “Queen Melusina has been searching for Father and me for years, hasn’t she?”

  He nodded.

  “That Samhain night, Father must have used his druid powers to hide from the faeries.”

  He nodded again.

  “That’s why the villagers got killed. She must have slit their throats, one-by-one, telling him to come out of hiding.”

  His fingers dug into my shoulders, and his eyes flashed with an urgency I’d never seen before. I expect he was trying to justify Father’s actions or his own if he’d been ordered to slaughter the villagers. It didn’t matter. I’d already carried that guilt for nearly seven years, and there was only one person to blame for those deaths. And I would avenge them, Father, my grandmother, and the former King of the Otherworld when I deposed Queen Melusina and drove my iron dagger through her heart.

  Snickers and snorts carried in the wind, and I turned my gaze to the approaching soldiers. I needed to tell Drayce how I felt before the likes of General Creach came to ruin the mood.

  Intertwining my fingers with his, I murmured, “I understand why you brought me here. The two Sluagh Lords I’d killed were scouts. If you had returned empty-handed, she would have sent more faeries until they either killed Father or brought us back in a state unfit for bargaining.”

  He nodded, his green eyes slitted and solemn.

  “Without you, I wouldn’t have gotten through these trials.”

  The corner of his mouth tilted, and he said something. From the tone of his voice, it sounded arrogant.

  “Captain Stipe didn’t go into the Keeper’s lair to save me, did he?”

  He shook his head.

  “I think the Keeper knew that too. That’s why he attacked everyone and why you rushed in… To protect me.”

  His lips moved, then he nodded.

  The soldiers landed their capall around the plateau, and General Creach dismounted with a clean bandage over one eye and a sneer on his lips. A thrill of satisfaction shot through my chest. If his eye was still covered, it meant that faerie magic couldn’t heal wounds inflicted by a creature like the Dullahan.

  Flanked by Captain Stipe and Captain Corpan, he marched over the slippery diamond slope and held out his hand.

  I stuck the finger of my free hand in my ear. “I can’t hear you!”

  He snatched at the forgery, and I pulled my hand away. “My bargain is with the queen. I’m handing the sword to her, not you.”

  His lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl
. Even with my ears still ringing, I could make out the muffled words. “You would do well to watch yourself, girl.”

  Drayce murmured something that made him scowl even more, but he gave a sharp nod and got back on his horse. I hoped it was a warning to stay out of my way if he didn’t want to lose his other eye.

  I turned to Drayce. “Will we go back to the palace now?”

  He nodded and placed his fingertips on the small of my back, guiding me to an awaiting Enbarr. I didn’t dare whisper a question to ask if he had a forgery of the Book of Brigid in case my voice reached sensitive, faerie ears.

  General Creach raised his arm to get his men’s attention. “We will travel through Autumn Court territory.” His voice was muffled, but I was sure that was what he said. “I would sooner brave the beasts than one of Salamander’s creatures.”

  “How many times do I need to tell you?” cried Drayce. “The Dullahan had nothing to do with me.”

  I suppressed another smile. Nobody but the master of the Dullahan would keep that bone-whip in his saddlebag.

  We headed in the opposite direction of the jagged, graphite foothills and over a forest bisected by a river as wide as a village. Pale, indigo clouds muted the afternoon sun but did nothing to dull the vibrant colors beneath us. Treetops of crimson and magenta and gold stretched out for leagues, and the scents of rain and bitter apples carried in the breeze.

  The Autumn Court territory was cooler than the darkened Summer Court, but still warmer than the area surrounding the Apex palace. This might have been due to the lack of Fomorian mist. We continued over the river, keeping the soldiers in sight.

  Since we were getting close to swapping the forgeries for Father’s freedom, Drayce seemed to avoid altercations with the soldiers. As the sun dipped close to the horizon, we landed in a clearing of maple trees. The soldiers also landed and set up camp. For once, I was pleased to see them. Queen Melusina had cursed the Autumn Court into beasts, and we needed decoys.