19. Aldrin
Chapter 19
Aldrin
O ur party rides in bleak silence as we cross the no-man’s-land between Fort Blackrock and the royal pavilion. I don’t understand the need for taking horses such a short distance, but the humans seem to think mounting these smelly, unpredictable creatures is a sign of status.
My warhorse bites at me every time I mount it to ensure a burst of panic ripples through me, reminding me who is in charge here. I have never missed Kai more, despite the kelpie’s insanity.
Our procession is led by Naomi on her great elk, with Edmund at her side, the might of the High Priestess and Lord Protector combined. Keira, Caitlin and I are directly behind them, with the lords and countess following in our shadow.
I keep Keira close to my side, not daring to show a hint of the terror I feel at losing her. Last comes an entire host of guards from each house, including all of my people.
It feels like we are marching to a battle. It may very well erupt into one.
Two royal guards dressed head to toe in deep purple velvet blow long, low notes from twin horns as we approach, and similarly attired guards pull back the flaps of the pavilion. Prince Niall steps out, flanked by soldiers in full armor, with a druid in fine brown robes at his side.
At the sight of the prince, Keira rides forward and takes a position beside her father. I grind my teeth, unable to stop her or join her. As far as anyone outside that war room knows, I am Keira’s fae bodyguard alone. Not the man she wants to spend her life with. Not when she still needs the title of Mother of Magic to protect her.
“High Priestess. Lord Protector. Mother of Magic Keira. Do you pledge to come in peace for negotiations with King Finan?” Prince Niall asks.
The druid steps forward, holding long golden chains with an egg-shaped vessel hanging from them. Smoky tendrils of incense escape the decorative container, smelling musky and floral, with herbal notes.
“Speak no word of mistruth, as my magic will make it known,” the druid says.
I narrow my eyes at those vapors and notice the unnatural way they move and writhe, reacting to each word spoken. A spell of intentions, aided by the concoction within that vessel. A druid’s magic is different from my own. Older. More primal and raw. Taken directly from the earth and trees.
“I pledge that we come in peace for negotiations with King Finan,” the High Priestess says, then Edmund and Keira repeat it word for word.
The smoke continues its lazy dance, moving in time to their words but not really changing. If it detects sinister intentions, I suspect it will thrash. Such magic can be powerful before the ignorant, but easily manipulated by someone who knows what they are looking at. It reacts to a person’s bodily signals, after all.
After examining the smoke, the druid murmurs a few words to the prince.
“King Finan also pledges peace during these negotiations,” Prince Niall says. The smoke jitters ever so slightly. He is unsure.
“I would hear it from his lips,” Edmund demands.
“Then you will be left wanting.” The prince turns on his heel and strides into the tent. “Please, follow me if you will.”
Tension ripples through each of us as we dismount. I lean in and whisper in Keira’s ear, “Do not trust this Finan. You may have known him as a prince, but the crown of a king changes a person.”
“And you have to restrain yourself from violence,” she whispers back. “He will provoke you.”
“I cannot make any promises,” I grumble.
Edmund stalks into the tent, with Caitlin hot on his heels. I size up the guards lining the entrance, noting the longswords strapped at their backs and the daggers at their sides. They wear segmented body armor and skirts of chain mail.
“The king will not tolerate any weapons in his presence,” a guard declares. “Leave them here.”
“We will not go unarmed while the king’s guards possess weapons,” Caitlin snaps.
“Just do as you are told,” Edmund says over his shoulder as he pulls weapon after weapon from his person. “We don’t need swords when we have magic.”
I pull my sword off my back and place it on the table, then unstrap multiple throwing knives from my thighs and along my ribs, ten in total.
The guard raises his eyebrows at me. “Do you have enough weapons?”
“It’s never enough when surrounded by humans that want you dead.”
The guard’s eyes fly up to my peaked ears and he cowers back a step.
Keira places a single knife on the table, with two large rubies on the hilt and flowers adorning the handle in gold wire. The dagger that belonged to my mother. The one she won in a bargain from me. It warms my heart to see that she carries it. The sentiment doesn’t last long as we are all but pushed into the pavilion by the lords behind us, waiting to get in.
The interior of the pavilion is immense and stupidly opulent. Every inch of the ground is covered by intricately patterned rugs so this king doesn’t have to suffer the inconvenience of stepping on dirt. There are cushioned chairs arranged in a circle for the meeting, with small tables between them, holding golden cups and jugs of wine.
In the corner is a desk with curled-up maps piled on it. Through the gap in a set of curtains, there is a proper bed with furs and pillows tossed across it. No wonder it has taken them so long to travel here. The king isn’t willing to give up any of his luxuries.
In the center of the pavilion, a slight man paces back and forth with agitation. Tight blue-black ringlets bounce around his face, and the mental image of this ridiculous man sleeping with rollers in his hair each night flashes in my mind.
Keira’s breath hitches. I want to put out an arm and hold her behind me, to protect her from all of this, but a guard would not touch her. It is the hardest thing to not stop her as she steps out from behind me.
The mad king’s ice-blue eyes fall on Keira and focus. He stops pacing.
“My king, on behalf of the Mothers of Magic, I thank you for agreeing to these talks regarding one of my priestesses.” The High Priestess bows lightly to him. Edmund, Caitlin and the lords who have entered do the same.
The king completely ignores them and stalks straight to Keira. She freezes on the spot and jolts as Finan places his hands on her arms and looks her up and down, then stares into her face. Keira stands so still I wonder if she even dares to breathe. I grind my teeth as every instinct screams at me to break his filthy hands for daring to touch her again. He has lost that privilege.
“They have not hurt you, have they?” Finan’s voice is raw, and his eyebrows meet in the middle.
“Who do you think was hurting me?” she mutters.
“The fae. The ones that took you.” His voice breaks.
“Finan, can we all sit and talk about this?” she pleads. “Can you promise me you will listen?”
The mad king looks like he will refuse to let her go, but finally removes his hands from her in an exaggerated motion. I find myself able to breathe again.
“For you, I can do anything.” He smiles and dimples form in his cheeks. I am already thinking up a hundred different creative ways to kill him. My fingers twitch with the need to end him.
“Can you?” Keira murmurs.
“Priestess Keira, allow me to escort you to a seat.” I can’t help the hint of roughness in my voice as I take her elbow and lead her away.
“And who are you ?” The king’s lips twist in a snarl as his eyes fall to me, then to my fingers that touch her, like he has any right to be protective.
By the gods, I want to tell him that Keira is mine. That I am the man she loves, the one she left him for and fucks with passion. It takes everything in me to school my features into a neutral mask.
“Aldrin is my bodyguard,” Keira says levelly. My false identity, straight out of her mouth, hurts like an arrow through the chest, despite the necessity of the lie.
Finan’s eyes narrow on me, jealousy still sparking within them, but then he notices my pointed ears. His face turns slack with fear, and he backs away, staring at me like I am a monster. Within heartbeats, he is paces away from us, abandoning Keira to the perceived threat. He doesn’t try to protect her or fight for her, only to save himself.
This pathetic king is a big enough man to march an army across the kingdom for Keira, to risk other people’s lives and homes, but he won’t lift a finger himself.
“He is fae! It is true!” Finan practically squeals.
“It’s okay. Aldrin is here at my request,” Keira insists.
“Guards!” Finan’s voice is high-pitched as his eyes dart wildly. He whips around to the lord who sits in the circle of chairs next to Prince Niall. “Lord Desmond! Why aren’t you doing something about this fae?”
Lord Desmond folds his arms. “Calm yourself, Finan. We know they are working with the fae. This was inevitable. Why don’t you sit down, and we’ll ask them about it,” he says through clenched teeth, as though explaining something to a wayward child.
Lord Desmond’s black eyes are cold as they fall upon the king. A long scar cuts across the left side of his forehead and down his cheek, just missing the eye. He is a distinguished-looking man, with shoulder-length gray hair half pulled back and a short-cropped beard.
He turns away from the king, dismissing him, and continues to speak with Edmund in hushed tones. It tells me everything I need to know about the balance of power here.
Prince Niall rushes over and grips his brother’s arm, trying to lead him away. “How about we get the negotiations started? Come and sit on your throne, brother.”
Finan flicks his arm aggressively, tossing Niall’s hand off him. He deposits himself in the largest seat with a high back, a sullen expression on his face. Again, he leaves Keira with me, a dangerous monster in his eyes.
Everyone else takes their seats, but I opt to stand behind Keira’s chair, my hands twitching with my readiness to draw up my power.
We all wait for the king to start the proceedings, but he sits there, one leg hanging over the arm of his throne, inspecting his cuticles with a brooding expression.
Lord Desmond lets out a long breath. “I shall begin this, then. We have an army marching to meet you any day now, with the combined might of all the lords of Strathia. If they reach Fort Blackrock and you have not surrendered, King Finan’s force will obliterate you. We will remove every single lord and countess from their seat of power in the North and gift your lands to nobility who are loyal to the crown. I promise you, there will be slaughter as we sift through which of your people deserve blame for these events.”
Everyone in the room reacts, muttering beneath their breaths or raising their chins and straightening their backs, but no one interrupts him.
“The Mothers of Magic will be encouraged to select a new High Priestess, and the headquarters will be moved from the Appleshield Protectorate to the Sanctuary of Magic in Sunbright City, where the royal family can have a greater watch over them.”
Keira stiffens. I want to rage and scream at the lord, to shake him for the audacity of such threats. I bunch my fists instead, clenching and unclenching them.
“The people of Strathia won’t tolerate you having such a heavy hand within the temple! There would be open rebellion,” the High Priestess snarls, and for once I appreciate the venom of the old spider.
“Oh, won’t they?” Lord Desmond’s deadpan expression doesn’t change. “Then why have they already backed your king? As far as they are concerned, both the priestesses and the protectorate have failed in their duties by allowing fae to walk these lands. By letting them live.”
He flicks his head in my direction, but I don’t react. I keep my simmering glare upon him. It would be so easy for me to drag the life force out of him with the reverse use of my healing magic.
Both Naomi and Caitlin lean in toward Edmund, and they exchange a few words. The slightest wisp of magic tells me they have erected a sound shield, but most of the humans don’t notice it.
“What are your terms?” Edmund finally says, his fingers tapping with agitation against the arm of his chair.
“It’s not much, really, despite the treason of the North.” Lord Desmond smiles. It’s a horrifying sight, all teeth and the promise of death.
Lord Adalwolf pales and Lord Tomas sways in his seat, looking like he might pass out, but Countess Lynna smiles viciously right back at him.
“The king demands that the North disband their armies,” Lord Desmond continues. “That the seat of the Lord Protector is passed on to a more trustworthy noble…my son, Lord Frederick, in fact. I will oversee these transitions with a token force. The fae trespassers must be executed immediately and the Lady Keira released from their grasp. Then, all will be forgiven.”
Rage boils in my blood. Those demands would devastate Keira’s family. Lord Desmond intends to sow division between Appleshield and their allies. To show the lesser nobles of the North that it isn’t too late for them to back down.
The king leaps out of his throne, crown askew, and stalks the few paces to Lord Desmond. “And Keira returns to the palace with me, to become my wife!” he yells, pointing a finger at the man.
“We have discussed this,” Lord Desmond says in a low, clipped tone. “You cannot force a woman to marry you.”
“Force?” The king tosses his head. “Force her to marry me?” he repeats, tone incredulous. He throws out an arm toward Keira, but doesn’t look at her. “She loves me. She has always wanted to marry me. The fae stole her from my palace.”
Lord Desmond’s stony gaze falls on Keira. “What does the Lady Keira have to say?”
Keira doesn’t stutter or waver in the slightest. “I left the palace on my own accord, without the involvement of any fae. I choose to become a Mother of Magic. I do not consent to marry the king.”
I could combust with pure rage at these monsters trying to take away her basic human rights. I would start by making the air in Lord Desmond’s lungs expand until they burst. Turn the air in his blood into solid shards and rip his body to shreds from the inside. I would delight in his murder for enabling the mad king and seeking to profit from it.
And Finan himself?
I would enjoy making him scream and regret the day he was born.
Edmund sits forward in his seat, the image of barely contained fury. “These are the facts, my king . Lord Desmond.” Edmund holds up a hand and starts counting off his fingers. “A woman and her father have the right to decline a proposal of marriage without the threat of an army marching upon them. Any priestess can devote herself to the temple without interference or an army marching on her . And we know that not only are your forces at least a week away, but half of the noble houses of Strathia have not aligned with you. That is a lot of potential enemies at your back, should you antagonize them, and they turn to our side. It would be a shame if your line of retreat to the palace were cut off.”
Lord Desmond has the audacity to laugh. “Do not expect help from the midlanders or Southerners, Edmund.”
“Why not? Are the common people not in full riot over the outrages to the temple?”
“Do not DARE talk around me like I am not your king!” Finan explodes, lips curling and eyes wild, throwing dark looks between Edmund and Desmond. “I should have my guards set on the both of you!”
Keira jumps in her seat. Prince Niall rushes to his brother, murmuring soft words to him. King Finan stalks past him, and I move in a flash as he goes straight for Keira. I stand in front of her, blocking her body.
Keira stands and puts a gentle hand on me. “Let me try to speak to him,” she whispers.
I begrudgingly take a step to the side.
King Finan gets right in her face. “You will return to the palace with me. You will do as you are told and put this little rebellion behind you. Everything will be forgotten, and your father can remain the Lord Protector. Just come home with me.”
His tone is somehow aggressive and pleading all at once. Keira looks at him with those huge doe eyes, rosebud lips parted and face pale. I want to tear him away from her.
“My king, we have already set out terms,” Lord Desmond cuts in.
Finan turns swiftly toward him. “By the Soul Ripper, I don’t care about your gods-damned terms, Lord Desmond! I want my betrothed back.” He returns to Keira and hisses, “Don’t you ever say I don’t fight for you.”
“I will not marry you!” She takes a wobbly step back from him, closer to me, and I place a steadying hand on her shoulder. Her heart races erratically beneath my touch.
The king’s eyes flick from her face to my hand on her. “You do not mean that. We are meant to be together. Our whole lives have been building toward this. The fae who kidnapped you has enchanted you. They have turned you against me.” Finan’s head moves wildly around until he spots the High Priestess. “Remove the enchantment on her!”
“There is no such thing as a fae enchantment.” Naomi stands, the tendrils of her long white hair dancing upward on a phantom breeze. Her voice echoes and overlaps with a neat trick of air magic. “There is no spell on Keira. She makes her own decisions.”
Finan points at his druid adviser. “Murdoc. Remove the spell! NOW!”
The man wrings his hands. “As the High Priestess said, there is no such thing as a fae enchantment that can make her act against her will.”
Finan whirls on Keira. “You will come with me, or I will slaughter everyone who comes between us and harbors you. Innocents will die and it will be your fault. Your family. Your people. Your fellow priestesses. EVERYONE. WILL. DIE.”
An immediate change ripples through Keira. A current of air flows around the three of us. It is almost as though I can hear her in my head, whispering, demanding. Hold back, that voice seems to say to me. This is my fight.
“I do not belong to you, and I never have.” Her voice booms through the pavilion. “You do not get to take whatever you want.”
The torrent of air around us churns faster, pulling in sheets of parchment and obliterating them in a vortex with us at its center. It howls. The rugs beneath us whip up and are tossed around. A storm of hot air crackles through it and small embers incinerate anything that gets drawn in. Incoherent voices yell around us, banging against the transparent barrier at its outer edge.
Finan grabs Keira by the arm and drags her the few paces between them, pulling her against his chest. “I should just take you now and kill your people here. They won’t be able to stop me before I reach the palace.”He pulls a knife from his side and moves it toward Keira’s belly. “If I can’t have you, no one else can. Especially not fae.”
It all happens so fast, in a blink of an eye, but I am faster.
In a heartbeat, roots explode out of the ground, tearing through carpets and running up the mad king’s legs and arms, holding him in place. I swing an arm around Keira’s waist and pull her into my chest, angling her body away from the king. I wrap my free hand around his narrow throat and lift him from the ground. My roots binding him give just enough that they don’t snap at the motion.
“I should kill you right here, like this,” I growl at him. “Snap your neck and prevent a war.”
The king’s eyes widen and tears stream down his face, even though I’m not actually choking him. The roots more than support his weight.
“Maybe I should leave you with the same bruises that I found on Keira’s throat when I entered this realm.” I flex my fingers, squeezing enough to hurt, then squeezing more.
His body shakes with fear. “Please,” he gasps. “Please?—”
Keira shivers against me, and it only incites me further.
“Release your hold on the king,” a voice booms.
I peer through the storm toward the murky image of Edmund and Prince Niall at the edge of the barrier. It is the voice of the prince that reaches us, on the air wielded by the Lord Protector. “Our forces have this pavilion surrounded. It will be a bloodbath if you kill the king.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “What are your measly human soldiers compared to the fae warriors I have stationed out there?” I lean right into the king’s face. “You will never touch Keira again, or I will kill you. Are we understood? Not. A single. Finger.”
The king nods vigorously and I let go of the pathetic creature, my vines retreating and taking his blade with them.
I glance down at Keira, still pressed against me. “Are you okay?”
Finan starts laughing. The uncontrolled hysterics bubble out of him, and he collapses to his knees, doubled over. Tears run down his face. When he glances up at Keira and myself, his eyes are feral.
“You are fucking him, aren’t you? You are fucking that fae beast.” He continues cackling madly while we all stare at him. “Is that what you were doing, in the Otherworld? Rutting fae while I gallantly waited for you to return?”
“And what were you doing in the capital? How many mistresses do you have?” Keira spits.“I broke it off with you before I went to the Otherworld. I never asked you to wait for me.”
Finan roars with laughter, hardly able to breathe or pull himself off the floor. “She doesn’t even deny it.”
Disgust is painted across Keira’s face as she looks down at him. “No wonder they call you the mad king, Finan. No one is going to believe your stories.”
The storm flares brighter around us, tiny tongues of flames dancing through it. Beyond, the people are in pure panic, but we can only see their silhouettes now.
Keira turns to me. “I can’t believe I allowed such a pitiful man to hurt me.”
“Never again.” I take her chin in my hand and stroke her face before taking a step back from her. “You need to drop the barrier, dear heart.”
Abruptly, the storm falls. Utter havoc is strewn around us. Not a single corner of the pavilion is left untouched. Wine is splattered everywhere and the people stare at us with pale faces, hair matted and clothes in disarray.
“You saw the knife he pulled on her?” I demand.
“We saw the knife,” Prince Niall concedes, his tone defeated, his eyes darting to his brother, unhinged and still laughing on the ground. “Perhaps we should adjourn this meeting for tomorrow…to cool off a bit?” His pleading eyes dart from person to person.
King Finan stands suddenly and dusts himself off, then turns on his brother. “Always playing the diplomat, Niall, and it has gotten us nowhere. The terms are set. They can take them, or we will bring them war.”
The king saunters toward the exit of the tent, then turns back to Keira.
“I will get you back, and then we will forget any of this happened.”
King Finan walks out, leaving us in stunned silence. All I want is to charge out there after him and finish the job of choking the life out of him.
“It is safe to say we will not agree to your fucking terms, Desmond,” Edmund snarls in the other man’s face.
Lord Desmond glowers back at the Lord Protector, then sidesteps him. “I don’t care to hear from Appleshield. We already know you are traitors to the crown. Tomas, what do you say?”
The little lord shrivels under that black stare, but doesn’t say a thing.
“Lord Bradford? Lord Adalwolf? It’s not too late for you to return to your king’s side.”
“You want me to ally with that fucking mess?” Lord Adalwolf spits, and Prince Niall cringes. “I’d rather burn with the rest of the North.”
Lord Desmond glances between the lords, pointedly ignoring the women of power in the room. He audibly grinds his teeth. “It is decided, then. The North is in full revolt and desires war, and that is exactly what I will give it.” He turns on his heel and stalks out of the tent.
Keira collapses against my chest and I all but hold her up by the shoulders. She closes her eyes and presses her cheek against me, as though my arms are the only safe place in the world for her. Everyone is too busy arguing to notice the moment of intimacy between us. Everyone except the Countess Lynna, whose eyes brighten and smile widens at our display.
I think she sees hope in us.