by D. D. Chance
It didn’t matter what I wanted. Nothing mattered but this moment, this Fae with his arms around me, the heat of his body warming me through and the soft brush of his breath in my hair. It was enough. It had to be. And speaking like this, without having to look at him, did give me a measure of confidence—or at least allowed me to distance myself from the reality of my predicament a second longer.
“Do you, ah…feel any different?” I asked, throwing the focus of the conversation on safer matters.
He grunted, then shifted, stretching out his long body behind me as if taking a mental inventory of every bone and muscle. It was probably an automatic move for him with as many battles as he’d fought.
“I don’t,” he said a second later. “Don’t get me wrong. I feel good. The roar in my ears has gone away, the sense of wrongness. What’s left is only right.”
I smiled at his unintentional word play as he leaned forward to kiss me on the shoulder, then blinked. A zip of energy slipped through me at the touch of his lips, quicksilver bright and easily as fast. Um, that was new. The power surge went beyond the excitement of a kiss, the murmur of possibility, and sailed straight toward a genuine pulse of A+ magical ability.
What did that mean? What could it mean?
Aiden continued as if he didn’t notice. “My wounds are completely healed. But I’m rested, ready. Even if we end up walking into an ambush today, I feel as ready as I’ve ever been.”
I made a face, then half turned to him. He pulled away, giving me space. When I looked at him, my eyes caught at the intensity of his gaze, no longer filled with ragged need so much as certainty, force. Satisfaction.
“You think we’re going to fight your own people wherever the Hogan contract is? The mountain Fae?”
To my surprise, he shook his head. “I don’t. The anger between our two clans ended three hundred years ago, sweet Belle, with a peace a Hogan witch helped forge. The mountain Fae have paid for their insurrection, and they still are to be venerated for leading the clans against our ancient foes all those millennia ago. Even if they harbor some culpability in helping your great-grandmother escape, which I suspect is true, they did nothing else. And both before and after that fateful day, they’ve been willing to join us in battle when we asked them to, and stood with us when we needed them.”
I shot him a wry smile. “Which has been never,” I pointed out. “Same as the forest and valley Fae.”
“When the ocean Fae took on leadership of the clans, defense became our role. That was the price of our power and also the means to maintain it,” he agreed. “It hasn’t been a bad trade. We’ve never needed to go recruiting. And if some warrior desperate to fight is born to one of the other clans, he or she can make their way to the ocean Fae, and we accept them into the fold.”
I considered that. “The other clans don’t need to protect themselves?”
“Oh, they do, from natural predators, and against the bad actions of their own kind. The Fae are not perfect creatures living in ultimate harmony, no matter how much we try to be. There’s passion and fire in our blood. Wherever you have that, you have discord and strife. But each of the clans takes care of their own, and we take care of the whole.”
“They won’t ever betray you?”
He sighed and settled back, his gaze returning to the fire. “There was a time I would have said never with more confidence than I have now, even though my position among the Fae is now strengthened. We have the Hogan witch again, we have the means of sight, we have spells that were only whispered of a month ago. The other clans haven’t struck out against us in all the long years of our weakness. It seems unlikely they will strike in the moment of our renewed strength.”
I had to admit, that made sense. And yet…
As if he followed my thoughts, Aiden nodded. “And yet, it is only with your coming that we realized the creatures we fight at the borders were not wraiths at all, but our most ancient enemy. How did the Fomorians regain a foothold in the realm of the high Fae? And do they walk the monster realm even now in their lesser form of those lizard men who ruled in the Riven District, the Luacra?”
His lip curled. “How is it the Riven District even exists? Because the monster realm has no central defense,” he continued, answering his own question. “It’s not ruled by anyone. The different races come together as allies if and when needed, and then only to fight a common threat. Some cannot even be bothered to do that.”
I lifted my brows. “Really? They don’t respond?”
He nodded. “I can’t imagine the Luacra standing up alongside the Akari or even the lesser Fae, I can tell you that. But some races are even more ancient, lost to the mists of history in the realm, surrounded by deliberate confusion and myth so powerful, it leaks out to our sister realms.”
“Like what?” I asked, frowning. “You mean Smurfs?”
My question was destined not to be answered, however, as Aiden suddenly stiffened. His head turned, his gaze sharpening as if he could see through the walls.
“Do you sense that?” he murmured. I also turned to the wall though at first my mind would not let go of the image of rose-granite corridors littered with leaves, twigs, and rocks. When I shifted to press more firmly against Aiden, ignoring his startled intake of breath, I saw it too. A darkness uncoiling at a far distance, waves slapping the shore at the base of a lonely spire, and a twisting tower of white that stretched into the sky.
“That’s McGeary Point,” he murmured. “An ancient outpost, long since abandoned to the care of the forest Fae, which they also fled in time, pulling their attention to the interior of the realm where the forests grew more thickly. That stretch of coastline is so bleak, only the dire wolves roam it.”
Dire wolves? That…sounded interesting. I’d never encountered dire wolves in my tavern. I would have remembered that. “Why did you have an outpost there to begin with?”
He tightened his jaw. “Because it was an ancient battleground with the Fomorians.”
“Uh-oh. You think they’re back?”
“I would have said no two weeks ago.” He slanted a glance down to me. “Then again, even a day ago, I suspect I wouldn’t have had this vision. You have given me this, Belle. You didn’t tell me my sight would strengthen with the transfer of the symbols of your great-grandmother’s power.”
“Yeah, well, that’s because I didn’t know it would happen. I didn’t know any of this would happen.” I grimaced with the truth of my own statement. Was our newfound strength the result of me wearing the crown and shackles, or was it the renewed connection Aiden and I had forged together last night? For that matter, why didn’t I understand more about my own freaking magic?
I sighed. “There’s way too much I still don’t know about any of this.”
He seemed to accept that, and for another long second, both of us stared at the wall. A new thought struck me.
“Am I seeing the same thing you are? A spire, gray ocean, dark trees?”
Aiden nodded. “I need to send the guard to understand what’s happening there. I should send a witch with them in case magic is required, but I have no interest in you leaving my side.”
I blinked. My thoughts immediately ran to Celia, back at the academy, still passed out as she slowly recovered her strength. She was the daughter of a witch, and she was in the realm of the high Fae. I wouldn’t, couldn’t betray her secret, and yet…
“Maybe one of the high family who has progressed in their studies?” I asked. “If you could protect them well enough and it’s for a brief sortie, maybe their magic should be tested?”
I expected him to discount my suggestion immediately, but to my surprise, his expression cleared.
“Exactly so. This is the entire purpose of the family being taught, and it never once occurred to me. We cannot subjugate more witches, by the Light, but we can take their lessons and bring them to bear.”
He turned back to me, and before I could protest—not that I really wanted to—he leaned down and kissed
me, hard and sure.
Holy crap. Fire shot through me, electrifying my nerve endings and making my hair stand up on end. Aiden didn’t seem to notice. He broke off the kiss before my skin scorched, but only just. As I gave a little gasp, he was already up and on his feet.
“I have to go and put this plan in motion.” He yanked his clothes on and sketched a portal to life, through which I could see the dining hall filled with dwarves and Fae alike. “Stay here.”
That worked out, since I was still dizzy from his kiss. “Go.” I waved him off and sank back against the pillows a moment later, alone once more.
I held up my hands, which practically glowed with an internal fire that warmed me without pain now that Aiden was no longer stoking it to a fever pitch. I had given him the sight, a far-off vision of the next immediate threat to the realm. But what had he given me? Or, better stated, what had I given myself with the return of my great-grandmother’s binding magic?
Because it was the crown and shackles that were doing this to me, right?
Pulling the sheets around me, I stood, but nothing immediately presented itself as a newfound skill, other than that I no longer felt the chill of the room. Handy, but not necessarily epic. As I stared at the flames, though, another thought stirred. Celia remained at the Witchling Academy. The second witch to ever break the barrier of the high Fae’s realm. An illegal alien in their midst, there only because of me. Even my great-grandmother hadn’t intended her to breach this realm, I suspected, but there she was.
Was she in danger? Had I improved her lot—or worsened it, bringing her to the academy?
The old familiar feeling swept over me. The desire to protect and defend these lost and determined women, to help them find their way to safety and power.
“I’m coming for you, Celia,” I promised. “We’ll get this figured out.”
First, however, I had to find my clothes. I turned around, and only then did I notice that Aiden’s portal remained open, but had it been in that specific place, exactly? I frowned, glancing back to the side of the room. No, his portal had been sketched in the space between the bed and the fireplace, I was sure, not up against the wall like that. The portal I was looking at now appeared to show a dark, empty chamber too, not the great hall where his warriors had gathered.
My eyes widened. Wait a minute. Was this a natural portal? I hadn’t noticed it before, but then…I hadn’t looked. Leaving one eye on it, I sidled over to where my clothes lay in a heap. I quickly dressed, taking my gaze off the portal for only a second, and—
Poof. It was gone.
“Well, that’s just great,” I muttered, then sucked in a breath as another portal shimmered before me, this one against the opposite wall. It opened onto a bright and sunny day. Had I done that? Had I somehow gained the ability not just to create viewing portals, but to travel through them without realizing it—sort of a gift with purchase for boinking the king of the Fae while souped up with magical bling? Or was this all still tied to the contract that we had thought we had broken but maybe not…a contract signed in the realm of the mountain Fae?
Wait. I frowned. The mountain Fae? Something about that bothered me.
As a troubling niggle of doubt poked at me, I took a cautious step toward the portal opening. It vanished—only to open again, this time right before me on the floor.
“Hey!” Arms windmilling, I stepped back, barely avoiding falling through the opening into yet another portal filled with thick fog. What the hell was this? My arms out wide, my eyes peeled open, I turned in a slow, unsteady movement, a squeak of alarm dying in my throat at the chaos of images that appeared in front of me.
Oh…shit. I was surrounded by portals. Flashing in and out, on the floor, on the walls, one even, impossibly, on the ceiling.
“What’s happening?” I whispered, as more portals shot open all around me.
22
Aiden
“Alaric?” Niall protested, staring at me with one-eyed skepticism. “He’s as like to set the Spire on fire as he would protect it—and not even on purpose either. He’s barely able to walk upright, let alone practice magic.”
I snorted at Niall’s curmudgeonly doubt of any Fae under the age of twenty. “I don’t disagree, but here is the challenge. Of those family members who’ve displayed a natural aptitude, who do you trust more? There’s Alaric and his mother. A potential Fomorian battlefront is maybe not the best choice for Lena, and…”
Niall didn’t let me finish. “Fair, fair,” he grunted. “And what is it we’re needing the boy to do anyway? He’s a Fae, not a witch, and that’s both good and bad.”
“He’s got some viewing skills,” I reminded. “And he’s particularly attuned to portals. He may not need the sight, he may simply need to see, if you get my meaning. Open a viewing portal and see what you find, especially if you’re right up on top of the bastards, assuming they are even there.”
“Oh, I’m sure they’re there,” Niall said. “Or something is. If there was a weak spot in the Fae’s defenses at the dawn of our power, it’d be the Spire. It’s at best a reinforced spot now. And one that we’ve let lie fallow for long centuries. Always another battle to fight, always another village to build. We’ve been blessed with our prosperity and relative peace for too long.”
“Leave it to us to be born into a life of violence.” I said the line with mocking dismay, and Niall agreed, only he flashed a quick grin.
“It’s a great life if you don’t weaken. And at least it’s not boring. I’ll go back to the castle, gather up the boy. If there’s trouble…” His eyes brightened. “If there’s trouble, you’ll know it, right? Is that what this is? A sense of the fight before the fight, as well as staying on top of the battle while you’re in it? That’s what Magnus was trying to teach us, right? With his slippery time spells?”
I lifted a hand and dropped it, recalling the lessons of the warrior djinn of the Witchling Academy, but that wasn’t what this was. “I haven’t tried to bend time yet. As for the sight, I have no idea how far it goes, for how long, or how true and sensitive it is. You could go all the way to the Spire and discover it simply needs its roof replaced, but I don’t think so.”
“I don’t think so either.” Niall scratched his chin. “You’ll need to come with me long enough to set the portals at the academy, yeah? And then there’s the question of getting us home. We’ll wait on your pleasure, but don’t forget about us. The wind is a bitch out at McGeary Point.”
“Stone and sea,” I muttered, but of course, Niall was right. While Gwendolyn the djinn could teach her students how to create viewing portals, and anyone with enough effort could transfer through existing portals, only I, as the High King of the Fae, could form transportation portals. The skill was a rare one in the monster realm, constrained to wizards for the most part, though there were at least enough natural portals in the realm to make travel easy among those who knew how to find them. But in the kingdom of the high Fae…
“I’ll go with you to the Spire,” I decided.
“No, you won’t,” Niall said with finality. “I appreciate an open door to get out of there quick, but it’ll take us some time to figure out what’s what. Long as you can get to me if and when I need you, I’m good. You’ve got things to do here. You’re the High King of the Fae. It’s time we understood what that really means.”
I met my oldest friend’s eyes, and in his gaze, I saw the truth. “You don’t think I’m going to like what I find at Sakorn Castle. The truth about the Fae’s contract with the Hogan witches.”
“I think that the luck of the Fae is a tricky thing. Whatever king brought a witch to the high Fae realm likely didn’t expect his family to be scattered, his name to be forgotten, his castle to fall to ruins. Did that first Hogan witch turn the mountain king’s luck? Did the High King of the ocean Fae punish him for his failure to win the battle he began, or did the witch herself? There’s too much we don’t know. And too much we need to know, especially if the Fomorians are b
ack.”
He grinned suddenly. “Good thing school is back in session.”
I laughed despite myself. “Good thing, indeed.”
With the blessing of the dwarf king Corran, my army took leave of their halls, the lot of us landing back in the Witchling Academy war room. Magnus the warrior djinn was there, poring over what looked like centuries of old books. I didn’t waste any time.
“What do you know about the Spire of McGeary Point?”
The seasoned warrior looked up, brightening instantly. “One of the greatest battles of—”
I held up a hand. “Hold that thought,” I ordered him. “We’re not all here yet. Marta, fetch the boy. Niall, choose your men.”
I turned back to Magnus. “You’ll go with them. They have need of you. Or, ah…can you leave here?” I asked, the question startling me because I hadn’t thought to ask it before.
Magnus’s eyes lit. “Under your direction, of course I can. Or under the direction of the Hogan witch.”
He looked around pointedly, and I grimaced.
“She’s safe,” I said, but even as I said it, a bolt of panic slid through me. True panic? Or the worry of a king for his mate when she wasn’t right by his side?
It didn’t matter. Once the seed was planted, it burst into full flower. I needed to get back to Belle. I sketched a new portal to the McGeary Spire. “Protect the men and the boy to the extent you can, and follow Niall’s orders as my own—or, hmmm.” I tilted my head, considering that. “Does that work, or will you betray me?”
The blunt question didn’t seem to faze Magnus, who merely bowed. “I am under your direction as long as my mistress is in this realm. I can even sketch portals, though only those that open onto battlefields. The moment the Hogan witch leaves, your power to direct me is no longer absolute, and the academy begins to dismantle.”