Faery Queen Read online

  Heinic hefted the sack of vegetables, dragging them unhurriedly across the long courtyard and up the steep stairwell, lumbering along at a slow and steady pace on his squat legs. The mortal world wasn’t built to accommodate gnomes, but he was sent by the King of the Blessed himself to work the land and, as Bellemare’s garden gnome, he took his duty seriously. It was a good piece of land, too, his garden.

  It was night, the air perfect for picking. The humans knew nothing about vegetables or herbs, or growing mud for that matter. They thought they could simply harvest whenever they felt like it. But that wasn’t how gardens worked. Each vegetable, each herb had its perfect time to be picked.

  Heinic was a little man with the rounded cheeks his race was known for. But unlike the drab woodland gnomes, his kind celebrated color in their gardens and in their clothes. His jacket was red over a bright green shirt. It was impossible to get colors like that in the mortal realm. He had a wife back home who sent them to him. A fine wife she was too, at least from what he remembered of her.

  Hearing a hiccup as he dragged his bag into the pantry, he glanced up at the barrel of ale. Giles waved down at him, liquor dripping off his long, nimble fingers to land on Heinic’s head. The gnome frowned, swiping off his hat and shaking it dry.

  “Ah, Giles,” Heinic grumbled, glaring at the drunken household brownie. Giles’ flat face glistened from where he’d dunked himself in ale and the two small holes of his nose fluttered with each heavy breath. “Be it necessary?”

  “Aye.” The brownie hiccupped. “I am checking the ale. Would not want any to get a drink of the sour.”

  “And I be fightin’ a dragon,” the gnome retorted derisively, pulling his bag across the floor to rest with the other vegetables.

  “You are?” Giles’ eyes got wide.

  Heinic snorted.

  “Lady Juliana used to tell us stories about dragons,” Giles mused, his voice wistful. “I miss her. I wish she would come back.”

  “As do we all,” the gnome said, waddling back to look up at the brownie. “Well, give us a drink.”

  “Oh, aye!” the brownie lifted a finger. “Come on up, the ale is warm tonight!”

  Heinic pushed the side of his nose and pointed up. His body dissipated as he was carried by magic to the rim of the barrel. Then, sitting along the side, his sore feet dipped in warm ale, he sighed. Giles took off his small cap, filled it with ale and handed it up.

  “Ah, there you be,” Heinic said in pleasure as he took it, bringing the hat to his lips for a drink.

  “Oh, did you hear that?” Giles’ small eyes widened as his body dropped down into the barrel.

  “Ach, forget it, the mortals cannot see us.”

  “There are more than mortals coming through the pantry,” Giles said. “It’s been eventful tonight.”

  Heinic leaned over to look toward the far door. “I do not hear—”

  “Down!” Giles said, pulling his arm. Heinic fell into the ale with a big splash. The liquid seeped into his clothes, surely staining his nice bright green shirt. Sinking to the bottom of the barrel like a stone, he frowned, holding his breath as he looked up through the thin layer of ale that covered his head. The liquor was dark and he couldn’t see. Giles’ feet pumped near his face only to skim his shoulder as if trying to find a perch on the gnome. Heinic pushed his foot aside.

  Giles reached down and pulled him up. Heinic sputtered and swiped his wet face with one hand while holding the side with the other. Putting his finger along his nose, he tried to get out of the barrel. The liquid made him too heavy and all he did was bob up and down.

  “That was close. The lady almost saw you.” The brownie nodded enthusiastically.

  “Mortal’s cannot see us, you toadstool!” Heinic grumbled. “Now get me out of here!”

  “I told you, there are more than mortals wandering about the castle these nights,” Giles said, even as he moved to help the gnome out of the ale.

  “I asked him to do one simple thing and he cannot even get that right,” Hugh grumbled. They’d gone to the chapel only to discover William had never arrived. He knew that most likely his youngest brother had seduced the woman into his bed, but it didn’t stop Hugh from worrying about him. “Methinks it is time I took account of the castle again. I cannot remember ever seeing that maid before tonight.”

  “You mean…” Thomas frowned. “You do not know her?”

  “I haven’t paid much mind to the women here as of late. Why? Don’t you?”

  “Nay, brother. I have not seen her.” Thomas patted his arm. “I am sure she is related to one of the field workers, come to work at the castle. We will ask the steward in the morning.”

  The main hall was empty as they stepped across it, but the fire still burned. Hugh didn’t want to bother with it, so he decided to let the flames go out on their own, even though the hall was already warm and had no need of heat.

  “No one is getting past the guards, whether it is to come in or to leave. William can take care of himself.”

  “The talk of devils has got me thinking.” Hugh didn’t want to risk losing William like he had Juliana. A large part of him still felt as if he’d failed her, even though she claimed to be happy in her choice. “I keep remembering how easily Juliana was taken from us.”

  “Any mortal threat will have to come through the gate or over the wall, both of which are well-manned. As for a magical threat, well, William knows more protection spells than either of us could dream up in a dozen lifetimes.” Thomas went to the stairwell, suppressing a yawn.

  “Aye, you are right,” Hugh nodded. It was late and most of the castle had been asleep for hours. “Let us get some rest. You can help me wring William’s neck in the morning.”

  “Methinks you should have bedded her and made her forget all about evil spirits lurking about the front gate. Mayhap in doing so, she would have made you forget all about that faery lurking in your head.”

  “Who? Tania?” Hugh dismissed the comment with what he hoped was a nonchalant tone. “Why would I dwell upon that witch? My life is better without her in it. I know why you think of her fondly. You spent your time under a spell being given all the pleasures of the flesh by her ladies in waiting. I was shackled to a bed and tormented by that spawn of hell.”

  “Whatever you need to tell yourself, my lord,” Thomas teased.

  “Argh, get to bed.” Hugh stormed past him, suddenly very tired. “And leave me be.”

  Chapter Two

  “Witch!”

  Tania slapped the vision of Lord Bellemare with her hand. Instantly, the whole wall of images disappeared. The faery queen screamed wildly, thrashing about in the air. It was clear now that the earl would never come back to her to keep his promise. The small hope she carried died in that moment. If he denied her to his closest brother, then he would deny her forever. “Spawn of hell?!”

  Call her a witch, would he? Not worth his time? His life was better without her in it?

  Around her the silver walls of the sphere-shaped chamber tarnished, losing their shiny luster. In her need to be away from the divining pool, she blasted up the narrow stairs like a ray of light. Gray sparks shot out of her flesh, hitting the walls and marring the silver finish with rust.

  Not knowing where else to go, she went to her great hall, still screaming. Those in her court looked up from their gathering and gasped in unison. Couples stopped dancing, frozen together in the air like statues except for their fluttering wings. The instant the queen took her silver throne, the sweet music of the faeries died and tarnish grew out over her sparkling hall, dimming it and the light with it.

  Her subjects looked at her, their wings dropping, the radiance in their eyes fading with worry. A small burst of light erupted near Tania’s throne and Lady Lily, a blonde faery, appeared next to her. Her white wings sparkled with the glittering of stars against her dark blue dress.

  “My queen, what has happened?” Lily asked.

  Another burst of light erupted and Lil
y’s sister, Roslyn, was on the queen’s other side. Roslyn had darker hair. Her translucent dark blue wings matched her sister’s dress, just as her sparkling dress of fine silk matched her sister’s white wings. Like the entire faery race, the sisters prided themselves on beauty and elegance.

  Then why didn’t Hugh want her anymore? She was the queen of beauty and elegance!

  Tania shook, so angry, so hurt, so desperate to end the pain inside her chest. She wanted to rip out her heart and toss it aside. How could he not love her? How could she still love him?

  “My queen?” Roslyn asked, her voice weak.

  “Bring me King Lucien,” Tania ordered, her words clear as they rang over the quiet hall. The faeries of her court gasped at the command, none moving to obey.

  “Nay, not Lucien,” Lily begged.

  “Not the King of the Damned,” Roslyn said. “You do not know what you ask.”

  “Zanna, Suzette and Rossa are still sick from the last time a demon was brought into this hall.” Lily shivered visibly. “Sir Nicholas was merely possessed by one when they took him to their bed. What will happen if you bring the Damned King here?”

  Tania didn’t move. She didn’t want to be reminded of Sir Nicholas. Doing so only reminded her of Hugh.

  “Lord Bellemare—” Roslyn didn’t finish. Tania’s hard look cut her off.

  “If you have so much to say, say it to Lucien. Go. Bid him to come to my palace.” Tania glanced at Lily. “And you go with her.”

  “Ah,” they gasped, their mouths working as if they would speak. No sound was forthcoming. Weakly, they backed away from the throne. Tania waited, her body tense with the new plan forming in her head. With a sudden burst, the two sisters became small dots of light, zipping out of the great hall.

  I’ll teach him the price of breaking his word to a faery, Tania swore silently. Tears crystallized in her eyes, hardening with her heart. I’ll take him from the one thing that he loves above all others. Bellemare.

  Fire Palace of the Damned, Kingdom of Hades

  “How was your journey, my sweet little nymph?” King Lucien smiled, twirling a lock of his long black hair around his finger. Dark eyes lifted to meet hers, but the light in his eyes belied any pleasure shown in the expression. Fires burned all around them in his bedchamber—in the oversized fireplace, in basins, on candles and torches. Light strips of gauze hung from the ceiling, fluttering noiselessly around the room. Though the material occasionally blew close to the flames, it did not catch fire. He lounged in a chair before the fireplace. The orange light cast his face with a ghoulish ferocity.

  Mia didn’t move from her place in the doorway, as she stared at Lucien. He had many pet names for her, but “sweet nymph” was one of his favorites. “My slave” was more appropriate. She was his, bound to him until he let her go. There was only one way out of Lucien’s control and that was by death. But, even then, her soul would be his, burning eternally, there to be brought back again and again. So what was better? Living as his slave or burning as a kept soul?

  His gaze flickered over her, dispassionate and hard before traveling back to stare into her eyes. Mia waited, knowing something was coming.

  “How are things in the mortal realm?” he asked.

  The practically nonexistent dress he’d put on her that morning was fashioned of torn material. Suddenly, it disappeared, only to be instantaneously replaced with the mortal servant gown she’d stolen and changed into at Bellemare Castle. His dressing her in the gown wasn’t necessary, for in his eyes she read the knowledge of her betrayal.

  Her stomach knotted and tears entered her eyes. She tried to hold them back, aware that he would get strength from her fear and pain. Mia had only gone to Bellemare to warn the family, to shake them up with talk of the devil so they’d be on guard against whatever Lucien had planned. Mia didn’t know how, but Lucien became stronger each passing day and with that strength he grew bolder. She feared that one day soon he’d find a way to cross over into the realm of mortals. If that happened, the humans would be doomed. Lucien’s army of demons would take over and wherever that army marched, death and destruction lay in its wake.

  “Do you really believe that in betraying me, you will redeem any part of you? You are damned, my sweet Mia. Damned. Do you think any good deed can relinquish the blackness that is even now eating your soul?”

  “How did you know where I was?” Mia tried to keep her voice level. She had been so careful when she followed his demon through the portal. The creature didn’t see her, didn’t see anything beyond his gruesome task.

  “Mia, tsk, tsk,” Lucien scolded, almost naked, except for a pair of breeches. It was his normal attire when in the Fire Palace. His bare toes curled and stretched, as if an extension of his bored tone. Mia wasn’t put at ease by his manners. Lucien was the most dangerous when he appeared disinterested. “Do you think me so blinded by your pretty face? Did you think by pleasuring me as you did, I would not know the true purpose in your submission? Did you think I believed your final surrender to me was real? That you had finally given in to me completely? Did you think I wouldn’t know the truth? I am the king of lies and deceit, Mia.”

  His eyes stayed on hers, holding her gaze. Lucien lifted his hand, palm out, toward the bed. Flames erupted on the dark fur coverlet, growing into the shape of two figures caught up in indescribable acts of passion. Lucien had the power to control the fire and had shown her many things in the flames, horrible things she wished to forget. Most times she didn’t know what was real and what was from his imagination. He claimed he merely watched the cruel actions of others with the flames—rapes, murders, those filthy little secrets mortals kept.

  Mia didn’t need to be told who the flames represented this time. She saw well the chain links she’d worn for him, heard the memory of her cries echoing in her brain, telling him she loved him. Each cry was like a knife to her heart.

  I love you, Lucien, I love only you.

  “Cease.” She turned her eyes to him. “I tire of this, Lucien.”

  “If only that were true, sweet nymph.” Orange light danced along his muscular chest, glowing in his wicked eyes. Even now she desired him. The side of his mouth curled, as if he knew exactly what she thought. His hips rocked suggestively in his seat and she couldn’t help but see the stiff outline of his erection beneath the tight black pants.

  Say it, his voice echoed from the flames on the bed.

  “If you are to kill me,” she whispered, not feeling as brave as she would have liked, “then kill me.”

  I love you, her past self answered in the throes of passion, giving in to him. The words echoed inside her, gnawing at her but not killing her. The pain grew in her chest and she wanted to cry out, strike his face until he could no longer look at her, smile at her, make her ache for him.

  Mia’s eyes were drawn back to the bed, to see her shame enacted in fire. It was her curse, the unbearable passion she found in his arms. Some days she just wished he’d let her die, take the second half of her soul and be done with it.

  “Did you think I would not know?” he asked.

  She forced her feet to step inside the room, hardening herself to his cruel taunting. “Save your show for someone whose soul can actually be affected by it.”

  She was instantly sorry for the words. Taunting the king of all demons was not a wise course to take.

  Lucien grinned and fisted his hand. The flames on the bed instantly smothered as if they’d never been there. Just as quickly, he disappeared. Mia stiffened to feel him standing directly behind her. She didn’t turn to look at him, not daring to move. The chamber was hot, but the heat never bothered him. In fact, he claimed to welcome it as the fire warmed his otherwise chilled skin. Mia wasn’t so immune. She started to sweat beneath the thick mortal clothing.

  “What’s the matter, sweet nymph?” he spat. “Hot?”

  Mia didn’t look at him as she stared at the dark gray stone of the castle wall.

  “I asked if you were hot,�
�� he yelled in her ear, causing her to struggle for breath at the sudden demonic sound. The demon within him had entered his voice, evident in the gravelly harsh tone.

  “Aye,” she whispered, nodding fearfully. She could deal with Lucien when he was calm, but when he called out his inner demon it was another situation altogether. She knew the cruel acts the demon was capable of.

  Or perchance there was no inner demon in him. Mayhap he was all demon and she just needed to think it was a dark creature inside the man—a man she could love, could tell herself it was all right to care for. But, perhaps she only lied to herself and any trace of the man Lucien had once been was truly gone—if he’d ever been a man.

  Nay, she couldn’t think like that. There had to be something left in him, something she caught glimpses of in his eyes, something worth caring for. It was the only way she could stand her existence.

  As far as she understood, King Lucien started as a non-demonic being. It was the way magic worked. Just like King Ean was an elf before being King of the Blessed, as was Merrick before being Unblessed, Lucien had to be something. The pure demon who controlled Lucien, the one who put him to rule, could not exist in either realm, or even on the earth. It was a thing, a nothingness, pure evil feeding on emotions and dark deeds that would forever burn. Mayhap it couldn’t even be called a demon, for it was the darkest magic. Understanding made it more difficult for her to hate him.

  “Was that so hard?” The demonic voice crackled with each breath. A long time had passed since the evil within was so noticeably close to the surface. Lucien walked around her. The black in his eyes spread, filling in the whites. Two tiny red dots replaced his pupils and his hard face looked like marble dusted with ash as he stood uncomfortably close. Suddenly, the servant’s gown disappeared from her body, leaving her naked and vulnerable. “Better?”

  “Aye,” she nodded, though in truth she almost preferred the human clothes to such exposure.

  His breath left him in a long, ugly hiss. “I give you things none other has. I give you a place in my palace as my mistress. You are worshiped by demons, respected and feared by them. I let you keep half of your soul so that you may still feel something besides death and this is how you repay my generosity?” His tone was soft, growing by small degrees as he spoke. Lucien flung his hand toward the bed, lighting it anew with the flames to mimic the passion shared the night before. “With this treachery!” He swung his hand to the side, moving the flames from the bed to the floor with a resounding whoosh, forming two fiery figures. It was William, the mortal wizard, standing with her as they had in Bellemare’s great hall. William’s figure crumpled as she’d blown magic into his face. She’d stolen the slight power from Lucien. Then her image kneeled, kissing William’s mortal lips to make him fall unconscious.