Blood Tithe (The Lost Cove Darklings Book 2)

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Blood Tithe (The Lost Cove Darklings Book 2) Page 12

by Bekah Harris


  It sounded so familiar, Raven snapped her head toward Dante, searching in the darkness for his eyes, as Campbell took up the story.

  “I didn’t want Alice to get hurt, so I told her to stay still. We were worried about the goats, so I crept toward this thick copse of trees. Three of them burst from the bushes as soon as I got within arms’ reach. They grabbed me. As they were dragging me deeper into the forest, I heard Alice scream.”

  Raven turned the information over in her mind, allowing it to sink in.

  “What are they?” she asked. “They look different than Laltogs. Are they humans?”

  “Humans that have been turned,” Alice said. “Laltogs that have been made instead of born.”

  Raven’s stomach writhed in her middle, as the next logical question formed in her mind. “But why? What are they doing with them?”

  A deep exhale broke through the otherwise silent space. “I don’t know,” Campbell said. “We haven’t heard anything. But I think they’re going to attack the settlement.”

  So, it was about power. Kyla and Elder Conlan were planning to launch some sort of Napoleonic coup and remove Fhaescratch from power. But how? The borders to Lost Cove were closed. No one went in or out without explicit orders. How the hell did two of the most despised and suspicious Laltogs in Lost Cove establish this kind of operation? There had to be close to a hundred vamps in this place. And how had this happened right underneath Fhaescratch’s nose?

  Unless he knew about it…

  “Do you think Fhaescratch is behind this?” Raven asked.

  Chains rattled beside her. “No,” Dante said. “No way. I mean, the dude is shady as hell, but he loves his little slice of power too much. Why would he risk anyone discovering his little kingdom by stealing humans?”

  “I don’t know,” Raven said, a little offended by his dismissal. “But don’t the histories say he has some centuries-old grudge against the Seelie Court? I mean, he basically kidnapped Felicity. What if he’s raising some kind of army to seek revenge against all the wrongs against him?”

  Everyone grew silent.

  “It’s possible,” Campbell said. “He hated Queen Endellion. And her son is in power now. Maybe he wants to place Laltogs on the Seelie throne.”

  “And maybe to avenge his wife,” Alice added.

  “What happened to his wife?” Raven asked.

  “Haven’t you ever noticed Queen Rowena’s chest?” Dante asked. He snorted, the sound of it thick and bloody.

  “Well, yeah.” Raven recalled the silvery crisscrosses that slanted across the queen’s chest. She always wore low cut tops and dresses, as if to show them off. Raven never would have imagined they bothered her.

  “Queen Rowena was a Seelie Court servant,” Dante said. “She was one of Queen Endellion’s ladies. When King Torin’s eye fell upon Rowena, rumor has it that Endellion ordered her to be tortured with iron daggers. I’ve never seen them, but I’ve heard they cover her back, too.”

  Fhaescratch had risen against Seelie before. Had he been married to Rowena then? Raven had a lot of research to do in order to catch up on all the gossip.

  “But she’s a queen now,” Raven said. “Is something that happened so long ago grounds for Fhaescratch to start a war?”

  “One thing you need to know about the Laltogs,” Campbell said, “and I hope it’s something you never forget. My family has lived in Lost Cove since the Civil War. They lived under King Erroll for more than a century before Fhaescratch overthrew him. So listen well: Laltog’s are patient creatures, and their memories are long.”

  Raven considered that. By all appearances, Fhaescratch seemed to tolerate Kyla, at best, and he hated Elder Conlan, according to Felicity. He had even ordered Tristen and Luca to follow Felicity in order to keep her safe from them. And maybe a dead Seelie queen had mistreated his wife in the past, but how was that King Barrett’s fault? Why would he blame the whole of Faerie for something one queen did? The logic was bizarre, and for some reason, she just didn’t think Fhaescratch would bother. But the only way Kyla and Conlan could have pulled off an operation like this one was with some seriously strong support.

  “I just don’t think he’s stupid enough to do something like this,” Dante said. “Think about it. There aren’t enough Laltogs here to take on the Seelie Court. I mean, I’ve never been there, but I imagine there are thousands of Fae, not to mention armies of trained guards. It would be political suicide.”

  Dante had a point. It did seem more likely that Conlan or Kyla were simply vying for their piece of power. But they would still need help getting away with it. It was well known that the residents of Lost Cove were subjected to constant monitoring.

  “Have you seen anyone else here?” Raven asked. “I mean, have you seen Fhaescratch or anyone else? Someone you don’t recognize maybe?”

  The dark room was silent, aside from their breathing. Campbell’s chains rattled.

  “Well, there is that one...thing.”

  “What thing?” Dante asked.

  “In the other corner,” Alice whispered. “You can’t really see it for the shadows, and it never speaks. But they come get it every now and then. An hour or two later, they bring it back and chain it again.”

  “It’s here now?” Raven asked.

  “Yes,” Campbell whispered. “In the other corner on your side of the wall.”

  Raven leaned forward, straining against the chains to see something, anything. There was only blackness, but after a time, she swore she heard the rustling of fabric.

  Chapter 19

  Tristen didn’t feel good about allowing Felicity to leave. If he had it his way, she’d never be out of his sight, but his father had been clear: no more flirtations with the Mage. But it was so much more than that, whether his father was right and it was the blood, or it was something more. If Tristen were honest, Felicity had intrigued him long before he had tasted her blood or felt the surge of power it gave him.

  “Pull yourself together,” Fhaescratch demanded. “You reek of lust and worry.”

  Tristen gave his father an even stare. “And as much as you’re trying to control it, the fear rolling off you is like a doe in line with a rifle. Perhaps you should focus more on the larger threat and less on my feelings.”

  Fhaescratch glared at him with crimson eyes, allowing his anger to get the best of him. The acrid odor of it overshadowed the fear, in what should have been a warning to anyone in his path. Tristen held his ground, refusing to look away. It had been this way his entire life. His father made all the decisions, and Tristen simply obeyed. He was loyal to his family, but he was beginning to understand why so many had turned against them. Gradually, Fhaescratch’s eyes dimmed back to cold black, and he turned from Tristen to stare out the window.

  Guilt tugged at Tristen’s throat. He swallowed. His parents had never been loving like Luca’s or the family who had raised Felicity, but they were all he had, all he had ever known.

  “What should we do?” he asked. “Should I bring Kyla and Conlan in for questioning?”

  “Not yet,” Fhaescratch answered. “I don’t want to alert them that we have discovered their secret lair. And we don’t know who among us is allied with them. If we called for their arrest now, the guards could turn on you at their command.”

  Before Tristen could argue, there was a knock at the door. Tristen crossed the room, pulling it open. Luca stood on the other side, holding Seth Erwin by the scruff of the neck. Tristen fought against the urge to roll his eyes. The inane human had been nothing but an annoyance since Tristen had abducted him.

  “What has he done now?” Tristen asked. “Father, it appears we have an issue with the new recruit.”

  “Bring him in,” Fhaescratch said without turning around.

  Luca dragged Seth inside, the boy’s mop of stupid curls falling over his unblinking eyes.

  “I was keeping watch on the Mage’s cottage when I saw him pass by and wander off toward the forest. I followed him for a while,
until he passed the creek and began heading up the ridge.”

  “Persuasion?” Tristen asked.

  Luca nodded. “Things are getting strange, Your Highness. The humans in the village are starting to whisper about something in the forest preying upon humans. Alice and Campbell have still not been located, and now...” He indicated Seth with a wave of his free hand. “What Laltog would be daring enough to use Persuasion on a human under our protection?”

  Tristen approached Seth, gripped a handful of his hair and lifted his head. The boy’s eyes were the same vivid blue as he remembered, but his pupils were large, dilated. He still hadn’t blinked, which meant he was most likely under the Persuasion of another Laltog—an act strictly forbidden in Lost Cove. Their long-standing agreement with the humans guaranteed them certain safeties in exchange for their blood tithes, and Laltog Persuasion was one of the things they were protected against.

  “I tried to break the Persuasion, but it didn’t work,” Luca said.

  He raised his brows, emphasizing his point. Luca couldn’t undo the Persuasion. Which wasn’t good.

  Tristen laughed, though the action held no humor. “Are you hearing this, Father?”

  Fhaescratch finally turned from the window and approached Seth Erwin. His nostrils flared, fangs extending, as he examined the human boy. Laltogs had varying degrees of power. The older the Laltog, the more powerful. But Laltog royals were far stronger than even the oldest of their kind. If Luca was unable to break the compulsion, it hadn’t been done by an ordinary Laltog. Whoever the culprit was, it had to be an elder or a royal.

  “I can break it,” Tristen suggested.

  “Wait,” Fhaescratch said. “My own compulsion is stronger. I can pull answers from him.”

  Tristen stepped aside and allowed his Father closer access to Seth. Fhaescratch held his eyes, the pupils shrinking and then expanding as the king connected with his mind.

  “Where were you going?” Fhaescratch asked.

  “Into the forest,” Seth said.

  “Where in the forest?” Fhaescratch snapped. He was growing impatient, Tristen could tell.

  “To the place where I’ll be set free.”

  “How will you be set free?” Fhaescratch asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I need to go. Why are you stopping me? It’s what I’m supposed to be doing.”

  “Who told you to go to this place?” Fhaescratch asked.

  “I…” Seth started to speak but gagged on his own words. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

  Fhaescratch cursed under his breath and turned away. “His memory has been wiped.”

  “Can you persuade him to remember?” Luca asked.

  Tristen shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. Once a memory is gone, it can’t be retrieved, even by an elder or a royal.”

  “It had to be Kyla or Elder Conlan,” Luca said. “Should we break the Persuasion, or let him go and follow him? We might be able to see inside if they drop the wards to take him.”

  Fhaescratch paced back and forth across the floor, scraping a long fingernail against his chin as he considered it. Finally, he stopped, sitting down in his chair. He steepled his fingers.

  “No,” he said. “There’s no guarantee it will work, and if it doesn’t, we’re sacrificing a human under our protection to an enemy that could turn him. I made a promise to protect the humans in our charge. I won’t risk it.”

  “So, you’re just going to break the persuasion?” Tristen asked.

  “It’s the wisest course of action for now,” his father said. “We already know there are wards, we already suspect humans are being turned and likely trained there, and we have already determined the location. There is no sense in putting this one in danger. Besides, Rowena will gut me if anything happens to this one. Apparently, he is very good with the horses.”

  Fhaescratch was right, though Tristen hated to admit it. If they could somehow follow Seth to the wards and break inside, then they could see for themselves what was really happening, rather than just speculate. But at the same time, the contract between humans and Laltogs was sacred—a binding agreement that had kept their community thriving for centuries. If they broke trust with the humans, Lost Cove would die a slow death.

  Fhaescratch stood. “Hold him for me.”

  Tristen took Seth’s other shoulder as Luca shifted his hold on the boy’s other side. Slowly, Fhaescratch approached, extending his arms to take Seth’s face between his hands. Long fingers tipped with sharp nails pressed into his cheeks as Fhaescratch lifted his chin to meet his eyes. Within seconds of their gazes locking, Seth’s eyes widened, his pupils expanding.

  “You will forget what you were told. You will forget about your orders. You will take orders only from me. No one else will be about to compel you from now on. If anyone tries to use persuasion on you, you will come to me and tell me who.”

  Slowly, Seth nodded, until Fhaescratch broke his gaze away. Seth blinked, then, as if awaking from a trance, his gaze darting from wall to wall in panic.

  “How did I get here?” he asked.

  “You passed out in the stables,” Tristen lied. “Luca found you and brought you here since it was closer than Dr. Shelton’s.”

  “Oh,” he said. “I don’t remember. What made me pass out?”

  Luca glanced at Tristen. “Dehydration, most likely.”

  “Seriously?” Seth said, looking insulted. He stepped away from them, running his hands through his hair. “I’ve never passed out in my life.” Then, looking back at Tristen, he added, “Can we keep this between us?”

  Tristen smirked. “Your secret is safe with us. If you’re feeling better, you may go back to the stables and finish up whatever you were doing. Queen Rowena will be back from her ride soon.”

  Seth nodded. “Thanks, for uh, helping me out, Your Royalness.” He bowed ridiculously and headed out the door.

  “Luca, could you make sure he gets back to the stables?” Fhaescratch asked. “We can’t have him wandering around the castle.”

  Luca nodded and headed after Seth, just as Rowena came through the door, dressed in her riding clothes.

  “What on earth was that boy doing in here instead of in the stables?” she asked. “I had to unsaddle the horse myself.”

  Tristen opened his mouth to answer, but Fhaescratch cut him off. “Nothing to worry about, my Queen. The stupid boy passed out in the barn, and Luca brought him here rather than waiting for Dr. Shelton.”

  The Queen narrowed her eyes, wrinkling her brows in confusion. “That was an odd thing for Luca to do.”

  “Yes,” Fhaescratch said. “He won’t be doing it again.”

  Rowena approached Tristen, placing her palm against his cheek. “Are you feeling well? I’ve ordered extra rations for you at Evening Feast tonight. We don’t want you getting weak this close to Samhain.”

  “I’m fine, Mother,” Tristen said.

  She nodded. “I’d best clean up before meal time. I’m famished.”

  With that, she strode from the room and into her private bath chamber. Tristen studied his father. Why hadn’t he told Rowena the truth? Why had he lied to her about Seth Erwin? It was widely whispered that Fhaescratch trusted no one, but Tristen had never witnessed dishonesty between his parents before. Still, he knew better than to ask or interfere.

  “I’ll go look in on the Mage before evening feast,” Tristen said.

  He turned to go, but Fhaescratch stopped him at the door. “Before you go, we need a human that can be trusted. Someone who can keep us informed about the whisperings among them, someone who can be our eyes and ears in the village.”

  “Who did you have in mind?” Tristen asked.

  “I was thinking of Dante Zamora. I have reports that he has taken a liking to the Mage’s friend. That means he can be controlled.”

  Tristen swallowed the dread that rose in his throat. Once again, his father was using those Felicity cared about to his advantage, and he didn’t like
being a part of it.

  “I have warned you about becoming close with the humans, Tristen.” Fhaescratch gave him a pointed look. “They are here to sustain us, and we have agreed to protect them. But none of them last long, and they all owe us their fealty. It’s not personal.”

  Tristen nodded, unable to find any words that would convince his father that humans were more than just the blood that ran through their veins. He would be wasting his breath.

  “Take care of that before you visit the Mage,” Fhaescratch said. “Take Luca with you.”

  Without another word, Tristen turned away from his father, his King, and quietly closed the door behind him.

  Chapter 20

  Nan bustled around the kitchen, heating water in the kettle and steeping tea. The fragrance of orange and cinnamon filled the small cottage, conjuring up memories of Lyric and Lochlan talking quietly in their kitchen late into the night. A tremor stabbed Felicity right in the heart, bringing with it the pang of homesickness. Traitorous tears built behind her eyes, and she fought them away, cursing herself.

  What good would tears do her now? What good did tears do anyone? Life was what life was, as Nan always said. There was no point wasting time on emotions. Besides, Felicity could count on her fingers the number of times in her life she’d actually cried. She had never been much for tears. She didn’t plan on starting now. She had cried when Slaine had appeared to her, and that little jag should have been enough to sustain her for the next decade or so.

  Ardan entered the kitchen through the back door and pulled out a chair. He had just sent a message to Lyric to update her on the situation in Lost Cove—all Felicity had told him and her suspicions about Kyla and Elder Conlan.

  She eyed Ardan from across the table, as Nan set a huge enamelware mug in front of him. Steam danced temptingly upward, carrying with it the smell of Lyric’s famous Orange Spice tea blend, which Nan had managed to replicate from the herbs already dried by the last Mage. Since coming to Lost Cove, Nan had described all the different Fae in detail, saying the Unseelie Fae were dangerous creatures with greenish skin, razor-sharp teeth, and dark eyes that glowed gold with strong emotion—as deadly as they were attractive and alluring. Felicity wished she could see Ardan as he truly was, rather than the golden Adonis that sat in front of her. All he needed was a toga. He inhaled the steam before taking a slow sip.

 

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