Touch (Touched by the Fae Book 3)

by Jessica Lynch

  There’s only one thing left for Melisandre to do. Folding her fingers together, she pleads, “Oberon, please. I loved you.”

  “Yes. Well, I thought I loved you once, too.” The bright light of the pristine room glances off the edge of the silver sword as Oberon swings it effortlessly. The cut is quick. It’s clean. One strike and Melisandre’s head goes one way, her body the other.

  My stomach curls in on itself as I fight the urge to throw up.

  He… he did it. I’ve always known that there was no way in hell I could’ve ever actually killed Melisandre, but he did it as easily as breathing.

  Oberon shrugs, lowering the point of his sword back to the tile. “I was wrong.”

  No one says a damn word as he wipes his hands on his white pants before stepping over Melisandre’s remains, purposely striding toward the throne. With the attention of the entire court on him, he eases himself onto the seat.

  His hands grip the throne’s arms.

  His green eyes gleam.

  Nine drops to a knee. It’s gotta hurt like hell, considering his injury is still bleeding freely, but he does it anyway. Following his lead, I hurriedly get to the floor.

  “Long reign Oberon,” he calls out, “the one and only Summer King.”

  As the echoes from the court surrounding us fill the throne room, I close my eyes. Mostly because I really don’t want to see Melisandre, but also because I can’t believe it.

  It’s over.

  Done.

  Finally.

  18

  Did I think that everything was over just because Oberon showed up out of nowhere and killed Melisandre for me?

  Yeah. Super wrong on that one.

  I wait for Nine to do something. Say something. He’s the Dark Fae. He’s the one who is familiar with Faerie and its ways. So long as he stays on the ground, head bowed, I’m going to do the same.

  Even if my neck starts to ache after a minute or two.

  From beneath the fringe of hair falling into my face, I sneak a peek at the room around me. Every single person in the Court has followed Nine’s lead, genuflecting in front of the king who, I notice, is absolutely glowing.

  It’s not just the clothes. The homeless man I knew is absolutely gone. Oberon has shaken off the last of his earthly glamour, a subtle golden aura surrounding him as he casts an appraising gaze over the assembled fae.

  His voice booms, echoing through the quiet. “Rise.”

  I scramble to my feet, moving before I give my body the command to go. I’m not the only one, either. There’s something in his tone, something none of us can ignore. It’s power and it’s awe and it’s a hint of a threat all wrapped in one. It’s like he’s saying, the king is back, get used to it.

  Holy crap. I’m so glad he’s on my side.

  With Oberon still sitting on his throne, hands curved around the edge of the throne’s arms, his immaculate boots pressed hard to the tile floor, he calls out a name.

  “Helix.”

  One of the guards moves forward. I realize with a start that it’s the Light Fae that led the cadre of soldiers who brought me back to Faerie.

  He doesn’t look surprised that he’s being summoned by the newly returned king. In fact, that unamused, almost constipated expression is missing as he bows his head. “Welcome back, your highness.”

  “It’s been too long. Tell me,” Oberon says, almost conversationally, “are you still loyal to the Court or just the crown?”

  His meaning couldn’t be any clearer. The former queen still has the crystalline crown nestled securely on top of her detached head.

  I try not to peek back over there again.

  Too late.

  Don’t hurl, Riley. Don’t hurl…

  I swallow roughly, just managing to keep my bile back as Helix answers, “To the Seelie Court and its rightful king, of course.”

  Smart fae. Or, at least, one who’s attached to his head.

  “Oh.” Oberon’s lips curve. “Prove it.”

  A shiver runs down my spine at the cold way Oberon says that. Prove it? What does he mean, prove it?

  Helix gives one decisive nod before unsheathing the sword at his hip. It’s a little different than the swords the other fae threatened my mom with. It’s long, slender, sharp, but it’s also got this eerie yellow glow edging it. He weighs it in his hand, the air crackling like logs in a fire as the blade slices through it.

  Obviously satisfied, Helix’s fingers tighten on the hilt as he strides toward the crowd. A murmur breaks out, tension filling the air as the Light Fae moves like spilled sunlight cutting through the room.

  I don’t know what he’s doing. Don’t know what he’s looking for, either. I hold my breath because I can feel the promise of death that follows in his wake.

  It might have been daylight when the Seelie guard came after us, but the iron in the building had definitely weakened Helix. Here, in Faerie, his glow is nearly a match to Oberon’s. When I thought that he’d kill me so much as look at me if I wasn’t any worth to him, I was right.

  Thank fucking God I am the Shadow.

  Helix stops, his focus on a mixed group of obvious nobles: two females and three males, all of them Seelie except for a dark-haired beauty with skin so pale, I can nearly see through it. For a second, I think that she’s the one that Helix has picked out for some reason. She’s one of only a few females in the Court—probably because Melisandre didn’t want any competition—and obviously Unseelie, as rare as Nine in the Fae Queen’s palace.

  It’s not her, though. When Helix draws his arm back, slashing upward with his sharp as hell sword, it’s one of the Light Fae males who loses his head. Like Melisandre, as soon as it’s separated, the body buckles as the head lands with a thud.

  His immediate circle scatters, each moving away as if Helix would aim for their head next.

  I gasp, my own hand rising to shield my throat.

  As I gape at the fallen fae, Nine reaches for my other hand, intertwining our fingers together, his pale fingers a stark contrast to my black leather gloves. He gives my fingers a gentle squeeze, a reminder that we’re in this together.

  His touch is reassuring. Calming, even. I feel grounded and alive, and super grateful that Helix kept his sword sheathed the entire time he was inside the apartment.

  While the hushed Court stares at the lead soldier and his victim, Oberon looks over at us—more specifically, at me. It’s like I can feel his gaze. I peer over my shoulder only to find myself gazing straight into his vivid green eyes.

  I’d like to pretend that he’s zeroed in on anyone else in the throne room but I know better. My luck’s always been shit, and even when I fooled myself for a few short seconds that this was over, that I’d be halfway back to the human world once Melisandre was taken out, deep down I knew that I wouldn’t be getting off that easy.

  He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me. I try to hide how much that casual display of violence got to me since it only makes it that much more noticeable I’m different. That I’m other.

  That I’m a halfling.

  Sure, Oberon took some kind of interest in me. Because of the Shadow Prophecy, I was his best—if not his only—hope of getting revenge on Melisandre. Now that we’ve accomplished it, what does that mean for me?

  I’m… not looking forward to finding out.

  After watching me closely for a beat longer, Oberon turns his attention back to Helix.

  “Why did he deserve your blade?”

  “Aven took your place in Melisandre’s bed,” he explains. “His loyalty was to her alone. He would’ve already been plotting his vengeance for you destroying his lover and taking her head.”

  “Fair enough. I’ve only just regained my throne. I’d hate to let the seat grow cold so quickly.” He leans back in his throne, that sly smile widening just enough to show he totally doesn’t mean any humor by his glib response. “Are there others that I should be concerned with?”

  Helix shakes his head, pointing his s
word to the tile as he steps away from the noble he just so easily executed. Thick rivulets of gold-colored blood drip down the blade, pooling on the floor as he turns toward the throne. “None that warrant an immediate reaction.”

  “Good. Clear the room, then return.”

  The lead soldier nods just the once, then sheathes his bloody sword. After talking to two other Light Fae—two members of the squad that Melisandre sent to my parents’ apartment—he starts herding the rest of the Court out of the throne room. The two other guards gather up the fallen corpses and the separated heads before following Helix through the door.

  I started to move, too, because I figured clear the room was as good a sign as any that it was time to get the hell out. Another squeeze from Nine has me pausing.

  Glancing up at him, he murmurs, “Wait.”

  Ugh. I was hoping he wouldn’t say that.

  “I’m sorry you had to witness that, Riley,” Oberon says, purposely using my name instead of my… I guess, title now that we’re on our own. “Melisandre might’ve taken it too far during her Reign of the Damned, but a little cruelty is expected among the fae. A weak king doesn’t keep his crown. I lost it once.” His voice lowers, a promise in each word as he adds, “I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “Um. Okay.” What else am I supposed to say? I go with the truth. “I’m glad, but now that you’ve proven that you’re still a badass, can we go?”

  I glance over at Nine, realizing that I just made a pretty big assumption there. We’re mates, fully bonded ffrindau, but I never had a plan for after defeating Melisandre since, honestly, I never thought I could. So talks of the future? Those had all been put on hold until I was sure I’d have one.

  With a shrug, trying to conceal how fast my heart is racing at the fear that our plans for what comes next won’t match, I say, “I mean, if that’s what you want to do. Either way, I’ve got to go back.”

  Nine slowly untangles his hand from mine, reaching into the depths of his pants. He pulls out the pebble that he’s been carrying my entire life. “So long as you trust me with this, I’ll go wherever you go, my Shadow.”

  So long as I trust him with me…

  I lay my hand on his elbow, forming an unbreakable tether with my Dark Fae. It’s so easy, so natural, and I know that if anyone else even comes close, the panic will come back with a vengeance, but not Nine.

  Fate put us together. Not even a nasty, vicious Fae Queen could tear us apart.

  Oberon doesn’t even try.

  A hint of amusement crosses his face. “Leaving so soon?”

  Crap. I didn’t offend him, did I?

  “When the soldiers found us in my parents’ apartment, I got the leader… that Helix guy… to agree to leave them alone. Melisandre isn’t a threat anymore. I want to go back and tell Callie and Ash that we did it.”

  “And you can. But, first, I’d like to reward you.”

  “That’s not necessary,” cuts in Nine.

  Oberon’s eyes turn dark, a quick flash before they’re back to their glassy green color. “I’ve eliminated one Unseelie this eve, Ninetroir. It would be no trouble to dispatch another.”

  Translation: Don’t try me, or you’re next.

  Nine bristles, his shoulders tensing under his shadowy duster, but he smartly keeps quiet.

  I know what this is about. Despite everything we’ve been through—despite his promise that we’d be partners instead of him acting as my protector—Nine is still trying to guard me against the rest of Faerie. I appreciate it, but it’s a little late for that now. Ever since he broke me out of Black Pine last summer, I’ve had to be a quick study when it came to surviving the fae.

  One thing I learned?

  “A Light Fae told me once that it’s considered a slight to refuse a generous gift,” I say. “Whatever the reward is, if I take it, then can we go?”

  “What can I offer you that’s fair enough?” muses Oberon. “If it weren’t for you performing your role as the Shadow as only you could, I’d still be trapped in the Iron, living on spite and the promise of revenge on my former consort. Ask for anything. It’s yours.”

  “Well,” I begin, because, hey, if he’s offering... “a little money wouldn’t hurt.”

  Nine angles his head toward me. He keeps his voice low, though we both know that Oberon is listening to every word when he begins by saying, “No offense meant, but you don’t need to ask for that. I have more than enough to spoil you for the rest of your life.”

  “Yeah, in Faerie,” I remind him. In the human world, he has the clothes on his back and that’s about it—which is precisely why I brought it up. “And we can come back if you want to, but right now I’m just looking forward to a normal, no-prophecy, no-asylum life where I don’t have to look over my shoulder every two seconds. Honestly, that’s all I want.”

  Money would go a long way in helping with that. I’ll have to get a job eventually, maybe something under the table since I don’t know how a background check will work in my favor considering my history, but I have my parents to help out and my Shadow Man who deserves the best that I can give him in return.

  He looks down at me, his gorgeous expression made all the more irresistible in the way he smolders. “I understand. It’s a good thing that gems hold value in your world, too.” His eyes gleam. “In our world.”

  There goes my heart thumping away like crazy again. To hear Nine correct himself and refer to the human world as our world? I want to throw myself into his arms and show him just how much that means to me.

  How much he means to me.

  Can’t, though. Still having an audience with Oberon who, with a knowing expression on his timeless face, has a pretty good idea of the lusty thoughts running through my mind.

  I clear my throat. “Know what? Forget the money. If you can vow that the fae won’t come chasing after me ever again, I’ll consider us square.”

  “Done,” he announces. “And because I won’t require it, I’ll still arrange for the wealth I accumulated to be brought to your home.”

  “That’s—”

  Too much. Way, way too much.

  Another thing I learned?

  Fae don’t do favors and, honestly, they don’t do gifts, either. Everything they do is with the aim of one-upping someone else, of having the power and the scales tipping toward them. I don’t ever want to be in a fae’s debt—especially not this fae.

  Oberon holds up his hand. “Consider it repayment for the money you slipped my way when you thought I was nothing but a humble beggar.”

  I might’ve thrown a couple of bucks his way when his glamour presented him as a homeless guy. If his boasting from the other day can be believed, it’s like tossing him a penny and getting back a hundred dollar bill.

  Then again, it’s not like he’s going to use it…

  Besides, it might have taken me a second to figure out what Oberon is really doing, but now that I’m paying attention, it’s super obvious. Whether it’s true or not, the Summer King believes that he’s in my debt for regaining his throne. It doesn’t matter that I’m the prophesied halfling in the Shadow Prophecy and that I was supposed to end Melisandre’s reign. He owes me.

  No wonder he refused to help us when we confronted him in the human world. In his eyes, the balance would be lopsided in my favor. Of course he has to balance it out before he can let me leave.

  I don’t say thank you, because that’s definitely an insult to the fae; that’s something else I learned a long time ago. So, instead, I tell him, “I’ll expect it as soon as possible.”

  “Of course. Anything else?”

  Nine flexes his fingers. Not so noticeably, and I probably picked up on it because I’m in tune with every flutter, every sneer, every shift of weight as he stands by my side, but enough that I know he’s dying to tell me that that’s enough.

  Not because he’s trying to control me. I think my mate has finally figured out that the time for telling me what I can and can not do is way behin
d us. However, just because Oberon sided with me against the former queen, it doesn’t mean I can trust him.

  He’s not only a Light Fae. He’s the freakin’ Summer King.

  One small step and I go from balancing what he thinks he owes me to being in his debt—and that’s one place I never want to be. Too bad that I have to push it.

  And I have to. Whenever I wasn’t obsessing over the conflicting Shadow Prophecies, Nine being a statue, or Melisandre hunting us down, I wondered over Rys’s fate.

  No doubt in my mind that, if he could get to me, Rys would’ve popped up by now. He promised he’d always come for me. So what if I didn’t want him to? That hadn’t stopped him before, and it’s bothered me for a while now that he just… disappeared.

  I don’t know how Nine is going to react, but I have to ask.

  I have to know.

  Epilogue

  “Actually, yes. You probably don’t know… I mean, you just got here yourself… but do you think you could find out what happened to Rys?”

  Oberon blinks slowly, puzzled. “Rys. I’m not familiar with that name. Seelie? One of mine?”

  To be more accurate, he was probably one of Melisandre’s before he betrayed the Fae Queen and helped me to escape. Since I don’t want to tell Oberon that, I shrug. “I think so.”

  “Is that the Light Fae whose brand you once wore?”

  Nine’s long coat flares behind him, the shadows responding to his bad mood. Any relief he felt when Oberon appeared and fought Melisandre is long gone, and I’m even more anxious to get the hell out of here before Oberon makes good on his threat to eliminate another Dark Fae.

  It’s not like I like the reminder of Rys’s touch, either. But… hey. I’m still struggling with guilt. Maybe I could have saved him. Maybe I could have stretched the shadow a little further to include Rys. Sure, shadow travel nearly killed Ash, and I remember how the portal left black streaks on his bronzed complexion that morning in the mausoleum, but still.