Chapter Twelve
Bryn
W e stalk quietly through the unseelie sithen. A few turns and we’re at the empty throne room. It’s early enough that we encounter no more than a handful of guards, which are easily dispatched. Weyland is very skilled at a solid tap to the temple with his hammer; enough to knock them out for a day. He is resistant to killing anyone not actively fighting against us and I see the value of it; we’ll want support from the members of this court.
Barclay is likely still sleeping. Our intel is that he’s been drinking himself to stupidity every waking moment.
No sympathy. He was sleeping with the snake that spelled Adelaide and me. Osmund gave her exactly what she deserved: a whole lot of electricity run directly through her nervous system.
En’s lean body is against my leg and she’s panting. It’s her magic we’ll need to pull this off. We’re lucky to have her. I’m lucky to have her.
“Filib,” I call softly.
He emerges from behind Weyland.
“It’s time, my horsey friend.”
He frowns, like he wants to say something, but he looks down at En and seems to steel himself. Hah. He’s still hurt by her blunt words. Good. He needs to find his bollocks and act like the creature of terror he truly is.
He steps aside, toes off his boots, and transforms. It’s a slower transformation than I’m used to, given the amount of power my ladies hold as shifters, and that slowness makes it more gruesome. I hear muscles popping and bones breaking and reforming. His jaw elongates in a way that would surely scare the shit out of any human. Little bristles emerge from his skin as his clothes rip with the increased size of his body. The hair on his head is sucked inward, for lack of a better description. He’s utterly defenseless during this transformation and I tuck that knowledge away in case it’s needed. His fingers curve and his hands widen as the nails on each finger grow and merge into a hoof. I avoid looking at his feet; I don’t need that image seared in my brain.
Within a few minutes, he stands in his waterhorse form: shaggy brown fur, gleaming eyes, and pointed teeth.
En whoofs softly and shakes all over. I feel her magic along our tightly controlled bond a moment before she releases it. She has power in glamour, and her magic turns Filib into a demon unicorn, more or less.
The glamour doesn’t truly change his form, merely gives the appearance of it. Now, his fur is black, his eyes are glowing red, his mane and tail are longer, lucious, and flowing. A black horn, dangerous-looking, emerges from his head. Long fur covers his fetlocks and his hooves are gleaming.
I pat En’s head. “Well done, love,” I praise her in my bedroom voice and she lets out a whine in response. I chuckle.
Filib’s voice emerges from his big flappy lips. “Are you both quite done?”
His attitude makes me bite my cheek to keep from smiling. I like him slightly better when he’s pissy.
“Yes, yes. Positions, everyone.”
Adelaide
RORY HAS PULLED OUT a notebook and is sitting at the large stainless steel prep table in the middle of the kitchen.
“Okay, so Marchara, though they’re all dead, goes in the ‘rapists and abusers’ category. Who else?” he asks the assembled Fae. More and more of the servants have piled into the kitchen as word of our presence has spread.
“Well, Cefyll should go in the ‘good’ category,” a small nervous brownie pipes up.
Rory nods and adds that to his page.
“We need a ‘doesn’t harm but doesn’t help’ column,” a thin wolver says softly.
“Mm-hmm. Adding a ‘only kinda sucks’ line,” Rory says as he writes.
“Put Quinn’s house in that one,” I say.
I step forwards to watch Rory. He indeed has three columns and is adding the eleven royal houses as Fae call them out and agree or disagree on where they should be placed. Lots of discussion and anecdotes, many that turn my stomach. Why had they never told me? I thought they considered me an ally? I mean, I had hoped they did.
Once the houses are figured out, we start discussing any individuals that veered from their family and may need placing somewhere else, though there are not many.
Eventually, Rory sets his pencil down and looks over our work, nodding slowly. Of the ten houses still standing, four are in the worst category, two are in the good category and the rest fall in the middle.
Osmund clears his throat. “I realize I am new here. I know my words may not hold much weight. However, I think it is imperative that you all realize that our main enemy is Olwyn. Many who are in the middle category may have been pressured to act one way or another and will...straighten up and fly right, once the poisonous influence has been removed.”
Slowly, the individuals of the group start to nod. A morose-looking tylwyth, its skin a shade of green speaks up. “Princess Adelaide’s mate, you have been kind and thoughtful since you arrived. We, I mean....” They hesitate, pushing their fair hair out of their face. “The servants have kept an eye on you and the other mates of our princess.”
Murmurs of agreement from the group.
“And Princess Adelaide is ours,” they continue. “She’s always seen us. Always been kind and done what she can to protect us.”
My eyes are filling with tears but I’m trying to keep them from spilling over.
The tylwyth says, “You are true mates. You all share the same compassion, the same generosity as our princess. So don’t say you are new here, or that your opinions don’t matter. We’d have you and the others as our kings and queen-consort if the princess wanted the throne.”
They look embarrassed for having spoken so much, but it warms my heart and the tears spill over.
An annwn hound, Colm, whom Ossy knows well, speaks up, timidly. “Do you want the throne, Princess? We would support you if so.”
I stand straighter and clear my throat. “No. While I truly appreciate your confidence in me, I think our world deserves better than a monarchy. Better than a foreign government dictating our movement and magic. Better than the fear that lives in the hearts of all except the most powerful.”
The crowd of servants cheer. I blink, shocked. I hadn’t been intending to monologue. I was simply speaking my thoughts. But the pride on Ossy and Rory’s face says that I was speaking . Speaking directly to them all.
Rory claps. “Everyone reconvene in half an hour. Bring any other Fae who will support our cause. Bring any weapons you have. Come in your best, most monstrous, and powerful forms!”
Nairna
MY NATURAL STRENGTH in glamour magic has had various uses over my life, but I never thought it would be needed to bring down a king. I suppose I had also never contemplated being mated to three nymphs and getting railed within an inch of my life regularly, either, so I probably shouldn’t be so shocked.
I hold the magic over Filib easily, part of my brain trained to compartmentalize that energy, like how you can walk and chew gum. Bryn, Weyland, and I slip into hiding spaces in the Center Annex, waiting.
Filib, the big fop, trots about, mane and fetlocks streaming as he prances. Sunlight from the narrow windows catches on his pearlescent black horn. It doesn’t take long for a guard to come check out the clopping noises. I recognize the guard, and his translucent wings fold down in concern. His eyes widen as he sees unicorn-Filib and he turns and runs out the door.
We wait, although not long. King Barclay comes running into the room, his robe flapping behind him, his sleep shirt mussed, and his long, normally sleek hair mad. He freezes as he sees Filib in the center of the room, tossing his head about and posing.
Barclay advances slowly towards Filib, the awe clear upon his face. Filib plays up the horse in him, snorting and lowering his head as he whickers lowly. He steps towards the king but pauses, arching his neck and lifting a hoof to paw at the stone floor. Barclay extends his hand, seeking Filib’s velvet nose.
Generally, touch breaks glamour. But not mine . I grin as the king shakes his head in disbelief as Filib remains the same once his hand is upon him. He starts to stroke Filib’s neck and speak softly. I tilt my ears towards them, wanting to know what he’s saying. I catch only bits and pieces.
“...from my dreams, huh, boy? I...how do... you are beautiful...does this mean...step down?”
I grin. Bryn fucking called it. The clever asshole. Filib is close enough to kill the king. This is going to go off without a hitch.
But then something happens. The king motions a guard to come forwards. Filib tenses and stands still, eyes rolling.
The guard approaches slowly but pulls out a blade. I gasp silently. Shit. It’s one of our guards that is part human. He’s wielding an iron dagger.
Osmund
RORY AND I ENTER THE Great Hall ahead of Adi. She’s pissed about it but lets us do it. She’s holding a staff and looking annoyed as hell. I suppose that is better than looking timid. Following directly to the sides and behind her, are several annwn hounds in their natural form: long limbed, loping on four legs, covered in thin fur. If you were drunk on a moonless night, you’d mistake them for very large dogs. But they are most certainly not.
The crowd of royal court nymphs part as they catch sight of us. Slowly the talk fades, and suddenly the music cuts off. Rory and I head for where Olwyn is sitting, alone at the head of a long table. Farther down that table are Adelaide’s father, Aidan, and her twin cousins. As Adi stops near the dias, the hounds flank around behind her.
My little mate stays on the main floor, glaring up at her cousin.
“Olwyn.”
“That’s Queen Olwyn, Adelaide.”
As Adi stands silent, I can almost feel the servants, the Fae who keep this court running, strategically arranging themselves throughout the room, completely disregarded by the court Fae. My eyes flick back over the room, identifying which tables belong to which houses in each “category” that Rory came up with. As I look, Liam ab Quinn, that jaunty fuck who tried to bed Adi, catches my eye and nods slowly. Good, good . Let’s hope he knows what end of an actual sword to hold.
I stand behind and to the side of my mate, hand on my sword.
Adi raises her chin. “No, Olwyn, it’s not. For a regicide cannot take the throne.”
A few gasps, but not many. So most of them guessed as much. Spineless sycophants, the fucking lot.
Olwyn tosses her napkin on her plate and slowly stands. I feel the pull of her magic and her anger, though my cock only hardens for my mates, so the lust of her anger means nothing to me.
Her eyes flare. “Are you suggesting that I killed my beloved grandmother? Because certainly you know how dangerous such a suggestion would be, cousin.”
Adi grins sharply. “I am suggesting no such thing, cousin .”
Olwyn nods tightly and I feel her magic start to recede, but then Adi continues, “I am declaring before the Goddess that I saw you kill Queen Seren. I’ll gladly take a blood oath to that truth, if any would like.”
The sweat on my palms makes me grit my teeth. Fear for my mate is a boulder in my gut. I wish my other battle-hardened mates were here to keep our sweet, soft Adelaide safe. But they are not, so it falls to me. And I will keep her safe or may my mother’s gods bar me from Valhalla.
I see a dark mist swirling, convalescing around Adi. My eyes nervously look around; no one else seems to notice it. Darker and darker it gets, as though it’s getting thicker, like fog. Suddenly, it disappears completely.
At that same instant, I feel a tug of my magic. Tug isn’t a strong enough word. It’s more like a yank, a forcible pull by a draft horse. My skin prickles and I hear a beautiful strong voice.
“Osmund Idunnsun, this is not my battle, but it is yours and you are my son. Protect that which is yours.”
Skadi. My ancestor Goddess. My ears ring. I can see my breath in the piercing cold air. I unsheath my sword, ready to battle for my mate. Because Adelaide is mine .
Olwyn’s hands are glowing. Her magic emerges as a searing light. I don’t know the details and I don’t care. I allow frost to grow in my non-sword hand. The cold burns but it’s clarifying, narrowing down my focus to my only goal.
“Come down and face me,” Adi calls clearly. “I challenge you, Olwyn ferch Avilion.”
Gasps.
Olwyn laughs. “Oh, gladly, little cousin.” She hops off the dias and strides towards Adi.
I manage to stand still, to not strike down Olwyn as she approaches, though my magic is raging, freezing, inside me. The hounds all start to growl. Nervous Queen’s Guard stand behind Olwyn, protecting the queen. I see Rory out of the corner of my eye, waiting to give the signal to the servants.
Time seems to slow, but I know it is just the adrenaline of battle, not any true magic. I breathe in through my nose as my vision crystalizes and I feel the thrill of combat, honed sharper with my magic.
And then, Olwyn lunges, magic erupting from her. Adi swirls and swings her staff at Olwyn’s back. As it makes solid contact on her flesh, Rory signals. The Fae, some with thousands of years of pent-up rage and servitude, spring into action.
As I step forwards to deal with the Queen’s Guard, the hounds launch themselves alongside me. The guard wearing the captain’s insignia strides for me. Perfect.
Adelaide
I SEE THE TWINS LEAP off the dias and into the fray behind me. My focus goes back to Olwyn as I dodge another blast of her magic. Ossy is holding space for me to finish this. I feel the thudding in my head of the Morrigan, the black fluttering wings. The righteous wrath swallows me whole. Before I am lost to it, my eyes fall to my father. He is staring at me in shock. But after a moment, he nods and pulls his short sword before yelling and heading to the battle.
My focus is now only for my awful cousin. My natural magic is not offensive or even defensive, so I’ll be using weapons. Goddess-energy-supported weapons.
Olwyn pulls a small blade, though her other hand still glows white-hot. She tries to step into the defensive sphere of my staff so I swing it, repelling her. She unleashes more magic, causing me to step backwards as I dodge. She sprints forwards, trying to get close to me. She wants inside my range so that my staff becomes useless. I dance back again, swinging my staff in a downwards blow, but she throws her magic and I am forced to dive away, ruining the clear hit I should have landed. I roll, coming up in a crouch with my staff in front of me.
“Oh, Adelaide. Oh, my little mixed-blood cousin. I should have smothered you when you were a babe.”
“Why, Olwyn? Why are you working with the EA? Why kill Alys?”
She chuckles as she launches more magic at me. I try to swing away but am too slow and a searing burn skims the meat of my arm.
Olwyn grins and the unhinged personality of the females of my line is clear in her face. “I joined the Upper Council many years ago, Adelaide. Rich, safe, pompous assholes. They don’t even know each other’s true identities. Doesn’t matter, though, as they were simply a tool.”
She lunges for me again and I spin back, using my staff to keep her out of range. I hear the battles raging around us.
“You see, I knew Grandmother would never let me rule unless I birthed a daughter. And that I couldn’t allow.” She shakes her head. “No, I want to rule forever, Adelaide. I have no desire to pass down my throne. No children, no heirs, no losing my throne. I saw a human doctor years ago and took care of the possibility of an accidental pregnancy. The only thing left to do was wait for her to die and then I could take out my mother, claiming the throne before bearing a child. But then Grandmother got suspicious of my lack of offspring. And so she called you back and threatened my plans.” She shrugs as she sends a blast of magic at my head. “So you all have to die.”
I lurch forwards, dropping down and trying to sweep her legs with my staff, but she manages to escape.
“But why the EA?” I grit out. I’m struggling to keep the Morrigan at bay, her anger nearly overwhelming me.
Another deranged grin. “Ah, well, they want to abolish the rule of the US government. Which means that the Fae will need a strong ruler. While the other Upper Council members and I disagree on the details, their aims of a universal Fae rule, a universal Fae ruler, a queen mayhap...well, that I agree with.”
Oh, okay, she’s full-scale nuts and power-drunk. Alright then. I’m surprisingly unsurprised. That the Upper Council wants to install an appointed ruler for all of the Fae, I’m shaken but well...I can’t be borrowing problems right now.
The wings beat at my temples. Yup, it’s time. I drop the leash on the Morrigan’s magic and let it overtake me. My vision becomes edged in black. I see Ossy locked in battle, facing three royal males. Their breath paints the frigid air.
My focus lasers in on Olwyn. My posture straightens and I throw my staff, pulling my mother’s blade from my thigh sheath as I bull rush Olwyn without conscious thought.
Bryn
I FEEL EN’S SHOCK, anger, and fear as the guard pulls a blade. I look to her hiding spot, confused, and back to the guard. I realize he’s wielding cold iron, which can break an enchantment. Fuck .
It hits me like a brick, what we need to do, and I step out of my alcove, waving to En. When I feel her attention, I point to myself and mouth the words. I do it again and I feel her understanding down our bond only a moment before her magic surrounds me.
Adelaide
OLWYN RAISES HER BLADE , a fierce glare upon her face. She welcomes this. She thinks she is about to kill me.
That won’t be happening. The Morrigan’s confidence and strength infuses me.
Instead of meeting her dagger, or even slashing at her, I do something that she is totally unsuspecting of. I crash into her at a full run.
We roll together, thumping hard against the ground. I use my momentum to end up on top, our bodies tangled in some tipped-over chairs. My free hand grabs the wrist of her hand she uses for magic, and I slam her arm into the ground as hard as I can. I hear the wet, thick, muted crunch of her humerus breaking over a chair leg as I hold her wrist to the stone floor. She screams in agony.
“You’ll not take me from my mates,” I growl. “I don’t give two fucks for the throne, but I do care for the Fae who deserve better.”
She knees me in the groin and I roll off her in agony. I pull air into my lungs, trying to clear my vision. I hadn’t expected that to hurt so badly for a female. Olwyn has somehow managed to stand, though her arm flops uselessly.
Perfect. I am better than her with a blade. I can take her. I swallow my pain and dive away as she aims a kick at me. I spot Ossy; he’s down to two combatants, though he’s holding a large swath of floor clear to keep royal court Fae away from Olwyn and I. The “rapists and abusers” houses have figured out that I’ll wipe out their lines and are trying to help Olwyn.
I climb to my feet and face Olwyn again, a mirthless grin on my face.
“Let’s end this, cousin,” I hiss, hair on my neck rising. I pull on my bonds, suddenly nervous.
Bryn
I STEP FORWARDS BOLDLY , pace light and arms swinging slightly.
“Father!” I call fondly.
Barclay’s head snaps up as his hand goes to the guard’s arm, stopping his iron blade mid-air. Filib looks to me and stomps his front feet. Er, hooves.
The king’s face is awestruck and tears fill his eyes. “Son? Is it truly you?”
“It is, Father,” I say, warmth in my voice, as I close the space between us. I avoid looking at the guard with the dagger.
“Tavish! I thought you were dead! I’ve dreamed of this, of you .” His voice falters, catches. “But how is this possible?” His cheeks are wet with his joy.
I should feel some sympathy for this male. For how he’s lost his child, his wife and queen, and before that, his lover.
But I don’t. Not a drop. He would kill me, kill my mates, if it got him what he wanted. He, even as a widowed childless king, will never step down, never cede power. And so, he must die.
His death is required to save other lives. He’s a sacrifice, as the kings of old. When a drought or blight hit their kingdoms, they would lay down their lives to let their lifeblood nourish their land. They put their people first. They knew that this is what it was to be a king, a leader. Barclay should be proud to die to save his people.
The Priestesses used to wield the true power, the embodiment of the Goddess on our plane of existence. And my Goddess, my queen, my Adelaide, needs this male’s death.
I wrap my arms around Barclay as he hugs me tightly to his body, his arm pinning my long, black, glamoured hair. As he sobs, lost, I flick out my wrist dagger, dropping it below his ribs and stabbing smoothly upwards, piercing his heart from the back.
Adelaide
OLWYN LUNGES FOR ME , teeth clenched as she sprays her magic aimlessly from her broken hand. I yelp and jump, trying to avoid the haphazard danger that is her searing power.
Shock hits me as I see her blast shoot randomly towards Osmund, who is still locked in battle.
“Duck!” I scream as my fear runs down the bond. Without looking at me, he drops to the ground, rolling, taking out the legs of the male he was fighting and lurching the guard into the path of Olwyn’s magic. The scream that follows is almost as horrifying as the stomach-churning “cooking meat” smell that emerges.
Rage overtakes me.
I crouch and launch myself at Olwyn. I’m done. I’m so done with this bullshit. The last seven months of my life have been both utter hell and utter delight. I’m ready to take the delight, my mates, and get the fuck out of here. But I’m going to kill this bitch first.
My body crashes into hers and I plunge my blade aimlessly. A good stab anywhere will help take her out, so I don’t bother finding a vital organ. I merely put as much force as I can behind it. It connects, the weapon’s plunge slowing, like I’m pushing through wet clay. I feel the blade reverberate as it glances off a bone but I keep pushing. When the hilt is buried, I pull back and jam it once more into her body. Again and again, I sink the blade into her. Her breath is choked with wet bloody spittle and it covers my face but I don’t slow. Her eyes are as wide as half-dollars and her mouth opens and closes like a fish. I need her dead. Dead. Dead. Dead . I chant it as I stab.
I eventually let my blade fall slack. My focus widens out and I notice Ossy kneeling near me, waiting, eyes on me calmly. He’s bleeding and that shakes me, but his aura is peaceful. Rory and the twins come and kneel before me. My father.
Slowly, I stand over Olwyn’s ruined body. All the Fae in the room are kneeling, facing towards me. It would be more accurate to say that all the Fae that still draw breath are kneeling for me.
I should be utterly horrified at the death and destruction that surrounds me. But I’m not. Or, at least, the Morrigan is not. She’s satisfied.
Fae litter the floor. A good sacrifice for the crimes that have been committed , I think, oddly detached. I am relieved to find that it is mostly royal court nymphs who lie dead. My eyes find Maudey, meat cleaver in hand, tears in her eyes, and a smile upon her face as she gazes up at me. Liam ab Quinn, kneeling next to his mother, both holding swords, point down, hands upon their hilts, heads bowed. My annwn hound guards, panting happily. A brownie, their brown fur wet with viscera. A leprechaun, her face covered in blood, but grinning. I shiver and look away; that is a little too creepy. I shake myself.
“To freedom!” I yell. “To justice!”
“To freedom!”
“To justice!”
I look back to Ossy. His face is soft, his eyes full of adoration. He stands and pulls me to him. And as my sudden exhaustion hits me, I allow my eyes to close, surrounded by the scent and warmth of my mate.