Prince of Air and Darkness (31 page)

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Hunter had no idea how long he’d been tied to the whipping posts when he heard his mother’s voice drifting to his ears. He was hanging limply from the manacles, his shoulders screaming in protest at having to support his weight. But when he sagged in his chains, Bane invariably stopped the whipping until he “revived,” and Hunter took a perverse pleasure in the goblin’s impatience and frustration.

His mother’s voice was coming closer and now he could hear her words as she spoke to the goblin.

“I’m impressed by your abilities,” she said. “I would not have thought you could break him so quickly.”

“He’s still not fully broken,” Bane answered. “I haven’t been able to persuade him to sing for me yet.”

She sighed with evident regret. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to deny you that pleasure for the time being. Finvarra’s bastard has barricaded herself into her mother’s house. She promises to give us the child if we let Hunter go.” Bane made an ugly snorting sound, and the Queen laughed. “Yes, of course it is a bluff. How she thinks she will manage to get Hunter safely into her house without being taken herself, I don’t know. But I’ve a mind to humor her. The reunion should be quite . . . touching.”

Hunter’s sagging spirit revived a little. What was Kiera up to? Ice-cold fingers touched one of the open welts on his back and he had to fight the urge to shudder away from that touch.

“Your lady love isn’t terribly bright, is she my son? After all, she will have to open her door and remove the wardings to let you in.”

He made no reaction to her words or her touch, hanging limply, his head lolling to his chest, his eyes half-closed as his mind raced with questions. The Queen clucked her tongue.

“You disappoint me,” she told him. “I thought you had more fortitude than this. At this rate, you will barely outlast your dear father, and he was nothing but a mortal.”

The chains holding him up suddenly released. His reflexes urged him to stiffen his knees and support his weight, but he fought them and allowed himself to flop to the cold, blood-slicked flagstones below him. He moaned softly and stirred, as if barely clinging to consciousness.

“Well, we cannot show up on the little lady’s doorstep with this pathetic specimen,” the Queen said. “Chain his wrists and ankles, and we’ll see if we can get him onto his feet.”

Hunter’s heart was beating steadily faster and it was becoming harder to fake his broken state. His ruse was working better than he could possibly have hoped. He was weakened by pain and blood loss, to be sure, but if he had a weapon on him, he’d have a fair chance of taking out the Queen. Too bad he was unarmed. If he’d thought he could kill the Queen with his bare hands, he’d have tried it, but she was made of sterner stuff than that.

Bane, his clawed hands shielded by heavy leather gloves, fastened shackles onto Hunter’s wrists and ankles. Hunter smelled a hint of iron in the air, and the shackles burned on his skin. Not as fiercely as they would a full-blooded fey, but the pain drew a choked cry from his throat before he could stop it. Bane would have loved it, only the gloves seemed to have only partially protected his hands, and he was too busy wincing and baring his teeth to gloat over Hunter’s reaction.

The shackles continued to burn on Hunter’s wrists and ankles. If he were full-blooded fey, the shackles would eventually burn their way clear through his flesh and bones, but with his mortal blood, they merely hurt like hell. But the burning gave him an idea.

Bane had turned Hunter on his side to put the shackles on, but now he kicked Hunter back onto his stomach, forcing him to lie on his chained and shackled hands. Hunter assumed it was nothing but another touch of cruelty, until the Queen spoke.

“This will sting, my son,” she said, her voice full of laughter.

Moments later, something splashed onto the wounds on his back. Every welt flamed back to life at once, the pain blinding him. It was all he could do not to scream, for it felt like she had poured acid on those open wounds. He was dimly aware of Bane’s chuckling, and he used his fury at the creature’s sadism to help keep himself under control.

Eventually, the pain started to fade. Hunter breathed deeply, his body now closer to real exhaustion. But he still had some strength in him. It would have to be enough.

A clawed hand grabbed his shoulder and turned him over onto his back. He fluttered his eyelids open and saw the Queen’s face hovering over him, a cruel smile on her bloodred lips. She bent so that her hair trailed over the naked flesh of his chest. His skin twitched as though trying to escape even that much contact with her. Not far behind her, Bane was leaning against one of the whipping posts, his arms and ankles crossed in a posture of smug confidence.

“I can’t believe I coddled such a mewling weakling for so long,” the Queen sneered, though her eyes gave every indication she was pleased with his pain and weakness. “It appears I will have to prepare a potion just to get you onto your feet.”

She started to rise, and he leapt into action.

Hunter launched himself upward, swinging his arms over the Queen’s head. She gave a cry of surprise, then fell forward onto him when the chain between his wrists hit the back of her neck. At first, she was too startled to put up an effective resistance; then, it was too late.

Hunter spun her onto her back, wrapping the chain around her throat and stilling her kicking legs by trapping them with his own. He pulled hard on the chain and heard her breath coming in gasps, then not coming at all. The stink of burning filled the air, and Hunter felt the chain eating its way into the Queen’s throat. Bane tried to get at him, but Hunter used the Queen’s body as a shield. Her hands clawed at his, but though her nails scored his fingers, he did not loosen his grip.

She was weakening, her struggles becoming sluggish. Bane lunged in desperation, and Hunter was too slow moving his human shield into place. The goblin’s claws raked through the flesh of his shoulder, but Hunter held on, twisting until Bane had to back off or risk slashing the Queen. Her fingers fell away from Hunter’s hands, and her body slumped. Still, he did not let up. What a fool he would feel if he fell for the same trick he himself had employed.

Bane stopped trying to get at him, was now just standing there and staring in shock and dismay. He shook his head. “You can let go now, Boyo. She’s dead.”

Hunter held on desperately, trying to feel for her heartbeat, but his own heart was thundering too hard. He didn’t dare let go until he was absolutely sure, maybe not even until the iron had eaten its way through her neck and severed her head.

Bane unsheathed his knife. Hunter made sure to keep the Queen’s body between them as the goblin approached. But Bane for once wasn’t coming after him. The goblin stuck the point of his knife into the Queen’s foot. She did not move.

“See?” the goblin said. “She’s dead. Now let go.”

His body quivering with exhaustion, Hunter loosened his grip and allowed her body to slide off of him and onto the ground. She showed no hint of life, her eyes open and staring, her neck blackened and charred, the burns so deep they almost reached her spine. Bits of ash clung to the chain between his hands. Hunter looked up, expecting to see Bane’s knife coming his way. Instead, the goblin re-sheathed it and pulled a ring of keys from his belt.

Hunter thought perhaps he had slipped into a dream. Bane gingerly unlocked the shackles at his feet, then handed him a pair of pants. Hunter hadn’t even noticed the pile of clothing that the Queen had brought to dress him in. Keeping a wary and very puzzled eye on the goblin, he pulled them on. Bane showed no inclination to remove the shackles from Hunter’s wrists.

“Hurry up,” Bane grunted, grabbing hold of Hunter’s arm and tugging the moment his zipper was up.

Hunter stumbled and almost fell. His body was severely weakened by everything he had gone through, and by the continued contact with the iron shackles. Bane continued to drag him along. Hunter got his feet back under him, and Bane broke into a jog. Hunter matched his pace, and Bane let go of his arm.

“What the hell are you doing?” Hunter asked, shaking his head to try to clear the fog.

“Getting the hell out of here, what do you think?”

Hunter followed him into a tunnel that led under the palace. Behind them in the courtyard, a cry of alarm split the air.

“Fuck!” Bane cried, grabbing Hunter’s arm again. “Hurry, you worthless piece of shit!”

The jog turned into an all-out run. When Hunter tried to slow the pace, the goblin dug his claws into his arm. Deciding he would try to make sense out of this later, Hunter followed. The cries behind them multiplied, and an alarm bell started clanging. Bane cursed ever more foully, but kept running, leading Hunter through tunnels and passages he never knew existed. Once, they almost rushed headlong into a goblin patrol, but Bane pulled up just in time. They pressed themselves into a pool of shadow as the patrol hurried down the hall, undoubtedly mustered to capture the Queen’s murderer.

Eventually, they emerged from the palace and plunged into the Unseelie forest. The thick brambles and thorns forced them to slow down.

Hunter followed without protest for the better part of an hour, thorns shredding his bare feet. They had to be nearing the Seelie border by now, and still Bane showed no sign of letting up. Hunter came to an abrupt halt. Bane continued on for a couple of steps before he realized Hunter had failed to follow.

“Okay,” Hunter said, “I think it’s time you explain yourself.”

The goblin paused in his headlong flight and took a few steps closer, his lips turned into a familiar sneer. “You really are a moron, Prince.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who fell for the ‘I’m too weak to be any danger’ act.”

“Exactly.”

“Huh?”

“See if you can work this out: I guard the Queen. You killed the Queen. I was supposed to be guarding her when you killed her. Therefore . . .”

When he put it that way, Hunter couldn’t help but understand. “Therefore you’re headed for execution.”

Bane clapped, his lips still curled away from his teeth. “Give the boy a gold star.”

“And you’re helping me escape why?”

“Let’s get over the border, and then we can continue this discussion, eh Boyo? Too risky to stand still here.” He turned his back without awaiting an answer, plunging on through the underbrush.

Hunter would have loved nothing better than to head in the opposite direction, but the only way to evade the Unseelie patrols was to head into Seelie territory. Not that the patrols wouldn’t cross the border if necessary—hardly a month went by when there weren’t at least a couple of skirmishes along the border—but it wouldn’t be their first choice. Reluctantly, Hunter followed Bane once again.

About fifteen minutes later, they broke through the thick Unseelie forest into Seelie territory. Bane continued to run until they’d put a healthy distance between themselves and the border, stopping finally in a small clearing bathed in moonlight.

Hunter was winded and still weak from the torture. His lacerated feet throbbed with every step. When Bane came to a stop, Hunter bent over and put his hands on his knees, sides heaving. The goblin did not give him much time to recover his breath, however.

Hunter straightened when Bane drew his knife.

“Let’s have it out, shall we Prince?” the goblin said, and Hunter finally realized why Bane had helped him escape. They’d both eagerly anticipated the day the Queen would take the muzzles off them, and since the Queen was temporarily dead, that day had finally arrived. Hunter would have been much happier about the idea if the odds weren’t so heavily weighted in Bane’s favor.

“Let’s see: you have a big knife. I’m unarmed. You’re fresh and strong. I’m weakened by torture. And, oh yes, my hands are shackled together. With iron shackles, no less. I guess this means you’re too much of a coward to risk a fair fight.”

Bane laughed, though there was a bitter edge to that laughter. “If the Queen’s forces find me—and I have no doubt she’ll send them hunting for me as soon as she’s able—I will die in far more pain than you just suffered. But, see, I know that’s not how I’m destined to die. So I figure this unfair advantage of mine ain’t gonna do me any good in the end.”

Hunter stared at the goblin. He’d known Bane was serious when he’d first mentioned his conviction that Hunter was fated to kill him, but he’d never guessed he’d take it this far. “So because you think it’s your fate to die by my hand, you helped me escape the Unseelie Court when you could have just saved your own hide, and now you’re going to fight me when you could just walk away. That’s the textbook definition of a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Bane shook his head. “You don’t get it, but by now that shouldn’t surprise me. Let me explain in little bitty words so you can understand. If I walk away, they’ll catch me eventually. They catch me, I die, and it’s ugly. So instead, I bring you with me. We fight, I die quick. Now do you get it?”

It made a perverted sort of sense. “If you’re so eager for me to kill you, unlock my shackles and give me a knife. I’m happy to oblige.”

Bane snarled at him. “I have every intention of taking you with me. And I’m sick of talking.”

The goblin charged.

Hunter barely managed to deflect Bane’s blade with the chain between his hands. Sparks flew, lighting the night. Bane growled deep in his throat and tried another thrust. Hunter dodged, wishing he had his own knife. He could only defend for so long before he would have to find some way to attack. He backed away, crouched and ready for action. Bane followed, feinting.

“Now who’s the coward?” the goblin taunted as Hunter continued to back up.

Hunter didn’t answer, his eyes fixed on the blade, waiting for Bane to make another charge. He didn’t have long to wait. He met the knife with his chained hands once more, twisting the chain around the blade and yanking hard while snapping a kick at Bane’s mid-section. Goblins were not as weak around the middle as humans, but Bane nevertheless tried to avoid the kick. The distraction cost him his knife. Hunter would have liked to grab it himself, but as he tried to untwist the chain, the knife fell to the ground—narrowly missing his foot. Then Bane slammed into him and Hunter went down hard.