Fae's Captive (Fae's Captive Book 1) Page 6

  “So you accept?” I don’t mention that if she doesn’t, we’ll have to take her with us anyway. She already knows too much about Taylor.

  “I do. As long as you speak true about my freedom in the frozen wastes of the winter realm.”

  Gareth snorts. “’Frozen wastes,’ eh? Good to see the summer realm propaganda machine is still going strong.”

  I strap my sword around my waist and pull one dagger from its hiding place along my side. Pressing it into Taylor’s hand, I say, “Keep this hidden, but don’t be afraid to use it.”

  Her eyes widen, but she tucks it into the pocket of her dress.

  I hold out my hand for Taylor. She takes it with no hesitation, and the mating bond inside me snaps even tighter. I keep my other hand on the haft of my sword.

  Gareth waits at the door, his stance like a drawn bow string, and glances at my stance. “You expecting trouble?”

  I grin and squeeze Taylor’s small hand. “Always.”

  9

  Taylor

  We leave the large bedroom and enter a bright hall alight with blazing rays of sun. The heat verges on oppressive, and it doesn’t help that I’m anxious and still disoriented. Leander doesn’t seem to mind my sweaty palm as he leads me along with Gareth and Lenetia at our backs.

  A pair of guards, their armor gleaming, peer at us as we pass, but say nothing.

  Leander somehow manages a casual swagger, his head high. We get more than a few stares from passersby, but no one speaks to us.

  “Keep cool,” Lenetia whispers. “We’re supposedly going to walk right out the front door.” The skepticism in her tone isn’t lost on me.

  We make it to a cavernous hall with light pouring in from all angles. Fae in decorative dress stand around talking or walk with haughty importance. One in particular makes a beeline for us.

  I tense, but Leander squeezes my hand. His touch manages to calm me a little—perhaps because I know he’s armed to the teeth and has already demonstrated he has no qualms killing to protect me. My stomach churns at the memory of Tyrios’s hands on me, the surprise in his eyes, and the blood at his throat.

  The fae stops in front of us and wrings his hands, his voice tipped with anxiety as he speaks to Leander.

  I can’t follow what’s being said, but it definitely seems like this fae doesn’t want us to leave. Eventually, Leander brushes past him and continues toward a huge set of wooden double doors that lead into a wide courtyard.

  The nervous fae hurries away.

  “He’s going to rat us out.” Lenetia quickens her pace along with the rest of us.

  “Easy now. Just keep calm, and everything will be fine.” Gareth’s low voice doesn’t hold any hints of worry, but I’d be willing to bet his hand is resting on some sort of weapon.

  The whispers of the glittering fae around us intensify as we stride past. But we enter the courtyard without incident. Bushes and flowers bloom all around, and tiny white puffs swirl through the warm air. It’s a fairyland all the way down to the moss between the walkway stones. Even so, I’m happy to leave it behind.

  Worry eats away at me, and I hope I’m making the right choice. Leaving here could be a mistake—one I won’t recover from. If this place is the only spot that will allow me to return home, then I’m foolish to go with the warrior king at my side. But if Gareth is telling the truth, then the only way for me to get back is to go with them to the winter realm. Like Dorothy, I can’t go back the way I came, I can only follow the yellow brick road until I get to Oz. I touch the pendant at my throat, the stone cool against my warm fingers.

  We continue our trek, Leander casual but alert, his gaze missing nothing as we exit the courtyard and enter a narrow lane with ivy climbing its sides. I glance up and find more guards, a few of them watching us, crossbows strapped across their chests.

  “This is the portico to the palace. Once we’re out of here, we’ll reach the stables and ride north,” Gareth says.

  “Can’t wait to be on the road with you lot,” Lenetia grumbles.

  Gareth bites off a few foreign words, the very sound of them unpleasant to my ears.

  “Kiss your sister with that mouth?” Lenetia shoots back.

  “Silence,” Leander hisses as we approach a high gate, the bars separating us from what looks like a bustling village beyond. At least a dozen guards stand along the high stone walls, and several more are atop it, some of them holding their crossbows.

  One of the soldiers steps forward, a question on his lips.

  Leander responds, his tone conversational, as if we’re all just out for a stroll, not escaping a murder scene.

  The soldier’s brow wrinkles, and he gives me a long look.

  Leander bristles and steps in front of me, his voice turning cold. The two of them engage in an escalating flurry of words.

  “Shit.” Lenetia takes my arm. “We should go.”

  “Can we?” I can’t see the guard past Leander’s wide back, but I can hear him.

  “Never hurts to try. He’s more interested in why the king and Gareth are leaving than us.” She pulls me gently toward her and we move to walk toward the open gate.

  Two guards step from the shadows beneath the stone overhang, swords in their hands.

  “Keep walking. Eyes down. Like changeling slaves.” Lenetia links her arm through mine.

  I follow her instructions and stare at the cobblestones beneath my feet. My chin tries to shake, but I clamp my teeth together. Leander’s voice rises even louder behind me, the rumble of it like deep thunder.

  We’re almost through the gate when one of the guards steps in our path and says something sharply. Lenetia responds but keeps her gaze down. My stomach twists in a knot when he reaches out and tips her chin up so she has to look him in the eye.

  I look, too, and find a handsome soldier with those odd silver eyes. He sneers as he speaks to Lenetia, and for once I’m glad I can’t understand their language.

  He lifts his gaze over her head and stares back toward the palace. And then I hear it—yells and a multitude of heavy footsteps, as if the entire castle guard is running out.

  The guard pushes past us, and Leander’s voice bristles. My stomach sinks as I realize he’s in trouble.

  “Run!” Lenetia pulls me with her.

  “What’s happening?” I follow her through the gate and out onto a busy street full of carts, horses, and fae. An entire city with stone buildings and wide roads fans out from the foot of the palace.

  “They’ve found Tyrios!” She darts to the left. “They’ll kill us if they catch us!”

  “What about Leander and Gareth?” I glance behind me and almost freeze at the sight.

  10

  Leander

  The soldier falls before me, my punch taking him by surprise. The rest of the guards rush toward us, and Gareth and I draw our swords. My mate runs with the other changeling, safely away from the fray, though her gaze rests on me, her eyes full of worry. I want to take that fear away, to pull her in my arms and whisper the secrets of my heart. But it’s too late.

  An alarm sounds from deep within the castle. We aren’t getting away. Not now. But I won’t go down without a fight. My mate deserves nothing less. I will fight till my last breath to give her a chance at escape.

  “Well, this is a right mess.” Gareth backs to my elbow as the guards encircle us.

  “Reminds me of that time in the Freckarian Mines.”

  He laughs. “The goblins were a good bit shorter than these guards.”

  “They’ll bleed the same.” I raise my sword as one of the soldiers brandishes his blade.

  “It’s been an honor, Leander.” Gareth takes his battle stance as the ranks increase.

  The soldiers advance en masse, their weapons drawn, their intent clear. We won’t survive. Not against these numbers. I send a prayer to the ancestors that my mate gets away and that the other changeling will serve her as promised.

  The first attack comes in a whirl of speed. I parry and th
rust, using every bit of warrior ability I possess. The soldiers come all at once, their silver gleaming in the too-bright sun as they attack. The ring of metal on metal sings through the warm air, and Gareth and I—no strangers to long odds and mortal danger—fight for our lives.

  I parry and counter-strike, my instincts telling me where the next blow intends to land. The nearest soldier slashes at me, leaving his flank open. I swing to end him, but a flash blinds me and my sword hits stone.

  “The queen!” A soldier yells. “Protect the queen!”

  “Stand down!” She appears before me, her hand holding my blade. She’s covered in a diamond sheen, her powerful magic on display.

  “But, your majesty, these two have—”

  “I said stand down.” Her silver eyes glint deadly, and the soldiers obey, sheathing their weapons and backing away.

  I lower my sword to my side but keep it ready.

  “You slew Lord Tyrios.” It’s an emphatic statement, not a question.

  “I did.” I meet her silver eyes as her diamond spell shimmers and dissipates.

  “Was there a reason?” She seems almost bored as she releases my sword.

  “He threatened my—”

  Gareth coughs into his hand.

  I take the easy hint not to mention that Taylor is my mate. “He threatened to kill a changeling female.”

  “Oh?” A sly smile plays at the corners of her red lips. “Is it a special one perhaps?” Her gaze slides past me, as if she knows exactly where Taylor went. “Where is she, by the way?”

  “She is mine.” I bite the words out. “And no one will harm her. If they do, they will suffer the wrath of the winter wind.” An icy breeze wraps around us, pushing at the summer heat. My magic is barely contained and wants to lash out as badly as I do. But with my emotions churning with the discovery of my mate, it would be like setting off a powerful bomb of snow and ice, destruction and death.

  “Lord Tyrios was one of my top advisors and one of the oldest fae in my service.” She levels me with a hard stare. “You’ve taken him from me at a time when we need all the counsel we can get to solve the growing threat along our borders. And you’ve turned the rest of my court against you with this rash act.” She shakes her head gracefully. “Where we had grown a bond between our realms, now the fabric is torn.”

  “I drew blood in the summer realm, which is a stain upon our truce.” I sheath my sword. “But I would do it again to one such as Lord Tyrios.”

  “That’s not helping.” She waves a hand, and the diamond barrier from before forms around the three of us, effectively cutting off her soldiers from hearing our conversation. “I understand why you did it. She is your mate.”

  I tense, but I can’t deny it. I will never deny Taylor.

  Her shrewd gaze lightens a bit, but her brow remains troubled. “This has created another wrinkle between us. And, though I realize you don’t agree, Tyrios did have a legal claim to the changeling. My nobles call for winter realm blood in retaliation.”

  “Then take mine.” Gareth steps forward. “I have plenty to spare.”

  “It’s not that simple.” She eyes him. “Though your bravery does you credit.”

  “Do you seek blood, as well?” I ask.

  She sighs. “I’ve lived for far too long to play the short game. Tyrios’s blood is still warm, but his line will continue without him. The summer realm will quickly bury his memory and focus on new scandals or trivialities. At least, that’s my hope.” She turns and gazes toward the west, as if she can see beyond the garrison wall. “Keeping them steeped in gossip and spats means we don’t have any true enemies knocking at our doors. When they get quiet and pay attention, that’s when I worry. But the disappearances, they trouble me. And solving them is more important than Tyrios at the moment.”

  She’s more level-headed than I ever gave her credit for. Beneath the summer realm glitz, she has the mind of a tactician and a cunning sort of foresight.

  “What do you suggest?” I eye the soldiers who wait with caged aggression beyond the wall of diamond.

  “I will call off my guard so you can escape, but I can’t promise my nobles won’t give chase. Some of them are so old that their insides are twisted with malice and hate.”

  “Like Tyrios?” Gareth spits.

  “Worse. Far worse. And he had plenty of allies who will feel the sting of his loss. I wouldn’t be surprised if assassins have already been dispatched for you. Make haste from the summer realm.” She holds a hand out toward the diamond encasement but pauses and meets my eye again. “Your mate. She’s different. There’s something about her I can’t place. Be wary.” With a snap of her fingers, the barrier fades, and she orders her soldiers to return to the castle and their posts.

  They stare for a moment, disbelief flitting across some of their faces, then disband under the calm stare of their queen.

  The pull to Taylor is strong, and she’s been out of my sight for far too long. I motion to Gareth. With a brief nod to the queen, I turn and dash away from the gate. Gareth guards my back as we barrel into the busy city street.

  “Where did they go?” I peer past the gawking city fae, searching the sidewalks for her.

  A male approaches from the right with another behind him. My hackles rise, my fangs lengthening. They push changelings and lesser fae out of their way as they stalk toward us.

  “Leander.” Gareth draws his knives.

  “I see them.”

  “That changeling from the dungeon. She’s clever. Would have made for the stables when things got hairy.” He sidesteps me and shoots out a hand, swiping a throwing blade from the air just before it makes contact with my skull.

  “I would’ve caught that,” I say as the metal clangs to the ground, and the assassin who threw it palms another.

  Gareth grins and twirls his knives. “Go, I’ve got these two.”

  “You can’t—”

  “You’re the hope for our future—you and your mate.” He darts toward the two fae as the crowd senses the danger and parts for him. “Go. I’ll catch up!”

  I hate to leave him, but he can take care of himself. Taylor is the one who needs my protection. Turning, I hurry down the lane, the crowd dwindling as danger coils through the air. I’m almost to the road leading to the stables when a silver blade pierces my shoulder.

  11

  Taylor

  “Here!” Lenetia yanks me into a muddy yard in front of a long gray building.

  The street is clearing quickly, fae running into nearby businesses and narrow alleyways as the sound of fighting rings out behind us.

  A fae stands at the entrance to the building, his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze trained on us. He asks a question.

  Lenetia does the subservient thing again, staring at the muddy hay on the ground, and responds.

  He spits, his gaze narrowing. Whatever she said, he clearly doesn’t believe her.

  “What’s going on?” I edge closer to her.

  “He won’t give us the horses.”

  “I certainly won’t.” He speaks English. “There’s no way the lord of winter sent you two changeling wastrels for his fine horses.” He steps closer and reaches for us. “In the summer realm, horse thieves like you two get the lash. Or maybe I should call the Catcher, see if he’s on the hunt for escaped slaves.”

  We try to back away, but he’s too fast, his meaty hands gripping our arms and dragging us forward.

  “Get your hands off!” I try to pry his fingers loose, but it’s like trying to bend iron, and he drags both of us into the stables.

  “When the king hears of this, he’ll—”

  “Shut up.” He slaps Lenetia, and she drops onto a bale of hay, one hand at her mouth.

  My hand goes to the pocket of my dress, and my skin meets cold metal. I grip the dagger’s hilt.

  “And you, slave.” He yanks me so close I can smell some sort of alcohol on his breath. “You’ll need a proper lashing. Leather on your bare skin.” H
e licks his lips, then snatches at the front of my gown.

  I scream and fight him, but he’s too strong, and the fabric gives a little at the seam along my side.

  Lenetia stands and rushes him. He shoves her back so hard her head cracks on the wall, and she goes limp.

  “Lenetia!” I struggle to get to her, but he wraps his arm around my waist and wrenches me away.

  A horse whinnies deeper in the stables as someone screams in the street outside.

  “Brought some trouble with you, eh? Let’s see what’s up under here, little changeling.”

  I swing wildly at him, but he grabs a handful of my hair, pulling so hard my scalp burns.

  Terror wells up in me, the fear so tangible that my vision darkens and black spots swim in front of me. I take a deep breath and strike at him with the blade.

  He roars and shakes me. “Filthy wench. I’m going to—” His grip on my hair slackens. “What did you …” He lets me go entirely and stumbles back.

  My vision clears, and I watch as he presses a hand to his chest, his eyes going wide.

  “Taylor.” Lenetia stirs and tries to stand.

  I rush to her and examine her head.

  “It’s fine,” she slurs.

  Blood seeps from a cut along her hairline, but it’s not too deep. At least, I think it’s not.

  “What?” She points at the fae who’s still clutching his chest. Spidery black veins shoot from under his shirt and crawl up his neck. “What happened? Why is it black?”

  “I don’t know.” I look at the knife in my hand. “There must have been something on the blade. Some sort of poison?”

  “These northern realm fae aren’t playing around,” she says appreciatively.

  The fae staggers toward us, then drops to his knees, the blackness spreading up to his chin.

  “Get away from him.” Lenetia shrinks back against me.