Seduced By The Fae King (Mated To The Fae King Book 3)

by Bailey Dark

  “It was too rash, Altair,” Moritz says, anger flaring. “You should have sought our council. By the gods, Altair, I’m your closest ally and you’re marrying the woman who has slowly encroached on my border for hundreds of years.”

  “I know,” I snap. I whirl on him, long fangs bared. “I had no choice.”

  “No choice? What about your Bloodbane, Verity?” Moritz leans against the stone walls, anger rolling off of him in waves.

  “She isn’t mine anymore,” I say softly, shoulder shrinking back at the mention of her name. Thoughts of her have echoed through my mind since the passion we shared.

  Moritz narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “She covenanted with Sadal. It was against her will, but a covenant is a covenant,” I say. The reality still pains me.

  Moritz doesn’t miss a beat; he doesn’t spare any moments to pity me. “And your curse?”

  “Intact, but not affecting me yet,” I say, loosing a long breath.

  “Then you’re fucked, aren’t you?” There’s a gleam in Moritz’s eyes, but it’s dark and shadowed. I know he pities me.

  “It would appear so,” I agree. I shift back into my Fae form, tired after the long flight from the surrounding kingdoms. Moritz watches curiously as I dust myself off, wings gone.

  “Such a curse wouldn’t be so terrible if it didn’t promise the end of your people,” Moritz says.

  I resist the urge to narrow my eyes at him. From the outside, this simply looks like power, a new strength to play to my own advantages. But it’s much worse than that. It feels like poison to even have a sliver of Maaz’s magic within me. I don’t want it, but I’ll use it to my advantage while I can.

  “Where are Sadal’s forces now?” I ask, striding into the keep.

  Moritz falls into step behind me. “Scouts report they’re a week’s march away.”

  “Moving slow,” I murmur. “Why?”

  “We’re watching closely. If they step within a day’s march of here, our men will be ready,” Moritz says confidently.

  “The sun soldiers are on their way,” I say, glancing over my shoulder as Moritz scowls.

  “My soldiers won’t be happy fighting alongside those bastards. Plenty of their brothers-in-arms have died at their swords.” His voice is icy, and I can only imagine he would be happy to slip a knife through Erzur’s heart.

  I almost wish he would.

  “They won’t be happy dead either,” I say, eyeing him. “Make it work.”

  “You question my leadership?” He narrows his eyes at me.

  “Only your temper,” I say smoothly. I flash him a grin to lighten the heavy mood.

  Moritz glowers at me a moment more before schooling his face. “When can we expect her?”

  No doubt he needs to mentally prepare. “A week, hopefully, when her sun soldiers arrive. She’s travelling with them.”

  If Erzur never came, I wouldn’t be ungrateful. On the contrary, I’m dreading her arrival. Moritz shares my unspoken sentiment and he growls unhappily. “Bitch,” he mutters under his breath.

  I hide a smile. No one but Erzur can inspire that language in Moritz. “While I was gone, I managed to gather some information,” I say, keeping my tone light. Moritz turns his cold eyes on me, Erzur gone from his mind now that we’re back on business. I tell him about the demon army and that it will be loosed when Sadal dies. I don’t mention Verity visiting me.

  Moritz sighs heavily, an edge to the sound. “I half-expected it.”

  “Still, if we cut the head off the snake, the snake will eventually die. It may writhe wildly for a moment or two, but it will die,” I say, tapping my fingers on the oak table. “Our soldiers can take care of the demons, it’s Sadal that drives us back every time.”

  “Sadal first then,” Moritz agrees.

  I flash him a feral grin, letting a little of my savageness slip through the Fae demeanor. I’m feeling hopeful again. We have more soldiers enroute, a fortress with its back to the sea, and a god to kill. I push thoughts of losing Verity and falling victim to the curse again out of my mind. Perhaps when Sadal falls, the curse will slip away with him. I close my eyes, stilling myself. That’s all I can hope.

  Suddenly, the dark oak doors are flung open. I reach for Verity’s dagger at my waist while Moritz goes for his great sword. A man, covered in red dust and dirt from weeks of travel, stumbles into the room. He shakes out his hair, revealing blonde locks beneath. He glowers at me.

  “Thal.” I grin, relieved to see my cousin alive after an expedition to the wastes.

  “Bastard,” he hisses.

  I chuckle, but the laugh is cut short when a stranger slips into the room. She’s hunched, bowed like a broken branch, and draped in a dark blue cloak. Her hood is drawn up, but not deep enough to hide her stringy, gray locks or brown eyes from view.

  My hand is on my dagger again and I eye the stranger warily. “Who are you?” I ask, eyes flitting between her and Thal. Despite the bend of her wizened body, I can sense the power radiating from her. She could have Thal dead before I could stop her at this distance.

  She smiles – a warm, friendly look that should inspire trust. But I know better. “No names, here,” she says. Her voice is sweet and soft. “We don’t deal in the magic of names.”

  “Thal.” My gaze slips towards him. “Explain.”

  “Explain?” He laughs mirthlessly. “Oh, I’ll explain.” He jabs a finger into my chest. “I wandered weeks in a deadly wasteland, hell-bent on killing me, and guess who I find at the cusp of it before it drops of into nothingness? Actual nothingness. Your first Bloodbane. Happy?”

  I stare him down, letting him finish his tirade. He breathes heavily and then his shoulders finally relax. “Alright?” I ask, squeezing his shoulder.

  “I need a drink,” he sighs, staggering to the liquor cabinet in the corner.

  I turn to the woman, who watched it unfold with an amused glint in her eyes. “So,” I say, studying her. “You’re one of the first Bloodbane.”

  “The first,” she corrects me, still smiling.

  I don’t trust her smile within an inch of my life. “I’m not sure just how much Thal has told you, but you might be able to stop Sadal from slaughtering hundreds of thousands.” I gesture for her to take a seat.

  “Manners these days,” she tuts.

  I watch as she slips lithely into a chair, her quick movements betraying her crone act. Irritation flares within me. I resist the urge to bark that we don’t have time for pleasantries. I smile instead. “Apologies. I trust the journey went well? Would you like tea or anything to eat?”

  “Strong spirits,” she says, sinking into the plush chair.

  I glance over my shoulder towards Thal. He looks up from the bottle and then purses his lips. Wordlessly, he brings her a glass and a bottle of our finest spirits. I watch as she sniffs the liquid before taking a tentative sip. Thal returns to the drink, tucking himself into a corner where he can listen and watch.

  “Better?” I ask, an edge creeping to my voice.

  “Much.” She grins.

  “Sadal,” I begin.

  “Deserves what he gets,” the witch says fiercely, interrupting me.

  I cock a brow. “As long as what he gets is a slow death, I agree.”

  “We’ll get along just fine, little King.” She smiles broadly, baring a set of unnaturally white and gleaming teeth. “I’ll tell you how to kill him.”

  Chapter 17

  Verity

  Burning, hot pain sears in my arm as the blade slices through nerves and tendons. I scream, unable to stop the cry. Every cell in my body screams at me to stop, to pull the knife out and cover the wound. But I don’t stop. I fight against my instincts, digging the knife down deeper and deeper. Blood spills over the hilt, coating my hand and dripping to the ground.

  Serus watches with hungry eyes as the blood pools nearer to it. “More,” it whispers.

  I bite down hard on my tongue, trying to distract myself from
the pain. I pull the knife through my arm, up towards my elbow. Tears spill from my eyes. I can feel the shock setting in; the rest of my body going numb, my mind spooling out like a loose thread and all I can think about is the pain.

  I fall to my knees, unable to stand any longer. My body is betraying me, quaking and trembling as more blood seeps out of the wound. My hand shakes, unsteady on the hilt and growing weaker. “I can’t,” I pant, lifting my eyes to Serus. “I can’t take anymore.”

  “It’s not enough,” it says, no emotion or sympathy in its voice.

  “Oh, god,” I whimper, closing my eyes.

  With a sharp breath, I wrench the knife from my arm. Blood splatters across the inky floor and more gushes from my arm with force. I glance down at my leg, practically feeling the blood pulsing under my skin. One stab won’t hurt. I could still walk – probably.

  Shaking, I poise the blade over my left thigh, staring down at it with tunnel vision. “Do it,” Serus says, pacing around the blood. “If you want out, we need more.”

  I scream, a determined, frightened cry as I drive the blade into my leg. More fire, more pain, more blood. My scream is pained now and my vision wavers. I’m going to pass out. I can’t pass out. I blink rapidly, trying to steady my vision. Taking long, deep breaths I try to fight back against the growing shock and numbness pulling at my mind. I have to stay awake, stay present, or I’ll have lost this blood for nothing.

  Too, too much blood.

  Serus pauses, seeming satisfied. I glance towards it, shaking violently. “Enough?” I ask weakly.

  “Enough.” It purrs. “You must draw the spell, I cannot.”

  I laugh weakly. “You expect me to do it? I can’t move my arms.”

  It’s strange eyes flash. “You had better try before the blood dries or it will have been for nothing and you will be dead.”

  “Dead,” I murmur. “Right.”

  Mustering up the little energy and strength I have left, I cradle my bleeding arm against my chest. With my uninjured hand, I trace a sloppy circle in the mess of blood. “What’s next?” I ask breathlessly, thoughts straying back to the burning pain in my body.

  “The Wyrd symbol,” it murmurs, back to pacing.

  I swallow hard, feeling suddenly very sleepy. Warm blood coats my finger as I slip it through the blood, picturing the image of the Wyrd in my mind. Serus hasn’t told me much about the Wyrd, and I can’t remember reading about it in the Bloodbane text. Maybe my mind is slipping from the blood loss, or perhaps it’s simply older magic.

  I take a shaky breath when the symbol is complete. All sharp angles and gentle curves, I’ve made a mess of the mysterious symbol. But it’s done and complete and every line is connected to another without a beginning or end. Serus crouches beside me and I can feel the anticipation rolling off of him in waves. “Lanuae praesens,” I say haltingly.

  There’s a rush of magic and I feel it curl around me. Serus is quiet as the spell takes effect. I picture the realm of the Fae in my mind, but it’s slipping and unsteady. I try to focus on Altair, but all I can think of is the searing pain in my air.

  “Focus,” Serus hisses angrily.

  “Fuck,” I breathe, clenching my eyes closed.

  There’s a whooshing sound and it feels as if my world tips upside down. The portal whisks us out of the ether with the force of a blender and I work hard to hold back my nausea. Compared to this, portal travel with Sadal is smooth sailing. When I open my eyes again, it’s only when I feel cold, gritty earth beneath – nothing like the sensation of the ether on my skin. I laugh breathlessly as the bright sun blinds me.

  I lift a hand to block it out and then hiss in pain, in my excitement, I forgot the wounds in my body. I coil back in on myself, trying to cradle the wounded arm and leg. Beside me, I can feel Serus’s tail sweep against my arm. Brows furrowed in pain, I take in our surroundings. We’ve landed in a landscape like none I’ve ever seen before. There are no mountains here, just small specks in the distance. I inhale sharply, if the mountains are any indication, we are far from where I wanted to go.

  The earth around us is dotted with shallow pools of steaming water, like a natural hot spring. The air stinks of methane and I wrinkle my nose against it. I glance around, trying to get my bearings when suddenly I hear a low growl from behind. I freeze, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. I don’t like that sound.

  Serus’s hackles raise, sensing danger. “Run,” it says, eyeing something behind me.

  I lumber to my feet, biting back a cry as pain flares in my left thigh. Serus is pacing nervously at my feet, as solid as any cat. I limp away from the growl, picking up speed as I go until I’ve managed to push myself into a slow run. I can feel the blood seeping from the fresh wound, leaving an easy trail for whatever creature is behind us. Worse, I have no idea where I’m going.

  “Serus,” I say through gritted teeth. “Do something,”

  It dances around my legs, keeping an eye on what’s lumbering after us. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, magic – anything,” I pant. I splash through boiling hot water, hissing at my stupidity.

  “You’re the witch,” Serus counters.

  “And you’re a – I don’t know what you are – but I’m certain you’re better at this than me.” I swerve around another pool, catching sight of eyes watching me from long grass.

  Serus huffs. “I’ll try.”

  Without warning, Serus leaps onto my shoulder, settling into the crook and digging its claws into my back. I grimace, but the pain is nothing compared to the flaring in my arm and thigh. I need to stop; I need to bandage my wounds. But if we stop now, I’m certain whatever is behind us won’t hesitate to eat us.

  Serus relaxes on my shoulder and then I hear a deep, gurgling roar behind us. I dare a peek over my shoulder and instantly wish I hadn’t. The creature is as large as a cow almost, with slimy green skin. It blends almost perfectly into the rocks in this odd marshland. Wrinkly, but clearly strong, the beast lumbers to a halt, long claws scratching at its own eyes. I grimace as blue blood oozes from its eyeballs.

  “There,” Serus says, darting back to the ground.

  “What did you do to it?” I ask, slowing a little.

  “A simple illusion,” Serus says, not explaining further.

  I stop, breathing heavily. Blood has soaked through my dress and my cloak. Pain flares as my heartbeat returns to normal and the flow of blood ebbs. I wobble on two feet, my eyes going fuzzy and dark for a moment. Serus’ cat eyes watch me curiously and I wonder if I see a hint of worry in them. Shaking, I tear a strip of grey cloth from my dress and wrap it around my thigh. I cinch it tight, hissing in pain.

  “We don’t have much time,” Serus says. “There are others in the marsh.”

  “We need to find a way out, find a way to Altair,” I say through gritted teeth. “Can you do that?”

  Serus nods and his eyes go glassy. I wonder what it is exactly he does, but I won’t have time to find out now. As I wrap a long strip of fabric around the gash in my forearm, I hear a roar in the distance. My eyes dart over the landscape and I see a flock of black birds burst from the long grass in the distance. I recognize that roar. The sound has plagued me every night since I was dragged from war camp to war camp with Sadal. The demons are nearby.

  “Follow me,” Serus says, darting away.

  I bite back a scared whimper, tying off the bandage before stumbling after him. We run quickly through the marshes, heading in who knows what direction. But Serus is confident in its path, and I have no choice but to trust the strange creature. Pain sears through my body, like a brand pressed against my flesh. The longer we move, the worse it gets. I know I’m losing blood through the bandages, and that however many demons are following us, I’m leaving them a clear path.

  I take a ragged breath, panic surging in my belly and up into my chest. I might throw up. Crashing footsteps behind me tell me just how close the demons are. I run faster, or at least try but all I
do is whimper a little. Instincts scream at me to stop, find a place to hide and wait out the danger – but I know that would never work. Fear clenches around my heart and I wonder if Serus can sense it.

  The snarling of the dark beasts is enough to send a scream ripping out of me. I choke on it, breathing raggedly. My left leg drags out behind me, nothing but pain and deadweight. I grip it with my good hand, trying to make it move faster. My eyes are wide, locked on Serus’ flicking tail as he disappears over the cusp of a hill. I surge up it, hearing the beasts salivate behind me. I wonder vaguely if Sadal’s protection spell wore off when he left me in the ether.

  I reach the lip of the hill and come face to face with the silver tip of an arrow. I gasp, lurching backwards, towards the demon’s behind me. Screaming, I drop to my knees as the arrow is loosed. I hear a strangled cry as the arrow finds its home in a demon’s flesh. The Fae soldier draws another arrow and shoots without hesitation. Three more crest the hill, bows or swords drawn. They rush past in leather armor with a golden badge on their chests, Altair’s soldiers, and fall on the demons.

  I twist at the waist, muscles protesting. I scoot backwards, wide eyes locked on the soldiers’ deadly battle with the demons. Their swords slice through the demons’ scaled skin like a knife through warm butter. I flinch back as black blood sprays towards me and lands at my feet. Serus is beside me, eyes locked on the battle. Serus doesn’t seem surprised to have run into Altair’s soldiers.

  The last demon falls with a gurgle, long claws raking uselessly through empty air. The Fae soldiers ignore it, turning their sharp eyes towards me. One, the only woman, drops to a crouch in front of me. She wipes her sword along the grass at my feet, her harsh eyes locked on mine.

  “Thank you,” I stammer, keeping my eyes away from the mess of blood and gore a few feet away.

  “What’s a Bloodbane witch doing out here? Running away from her own allies, no less,” the woman muses. She turns to her comrades, her blonde hair rippling.

  “A trap?” One of the men suggests. His hand strays to the knife at his waist.