The Archer (The Blood Realm Series Book 3) (42 page)

Gleaming black eyes like those of a crow locked onto Marian, but she ignored them, raced right past the Queen of Air and Darkness—

—and into Robin’s arms.

Robin hissed as she closed her arms around him, jolted out of place where he’d stood just behind the queen. Marian froze, remembering his wounds too late. Her arms were around his waist, and beneath the pale green shirt he wore, she could feel the thick layer of bandages holding his torn flesh closed. She tried to pull back, an apology ready on her tongue, but Robin’s arms closed around her, locking her against him.

“It’s all right,” he whispered into her hair. “The healer patched me up. It’ll be awhile before I can give you a proper chase, but you’ll be pleased to know you’re not rid of me yet.”

Her voice left her. Questions roared at her in her mind, but she shut a door on them, locked them away to be asked later. For now, she just wanted to hold him until she could really believe he was here.

“Dubheasa, what is the meaning of this?”

Herne’s voice lashed out, cracking over Marian’s nerves. The anger was back, hotter this time, harder. Her muscles tingled with the urge to cower, to drop to the floor, show her master she was sorry for disobeying him. She gritted her teeth and pressed closer to Robin, holding tighter. A strained grunt reminded her again of his injuries and she pulled her arms higher, loosened her hold. She wanted to ask if he was all right, but her voice wouldn’t work. It was hiding, hiding from the man stalking toward them like an approaching storm. She bared her teeth.

Herne narrowed his eyes. The myriad of lights in the banquet room shone down on his antlers, emphasized their sleek curves and razor sharp points. It made the tilt of his head menacing, a promise of painful retribution. He stared at her for a long moment, then slid his attention to the visiting monarch. “What is
he
doing here?”

The woman in black smiled, lips rising as smoothly as oil poured over skin. “Are we on a first name basis for this visit then?” She winked at Herne. “Why, Herne, you animal.”

The King of the
Sluagh
pressed his lips together until they turned white. He gave Dubheasa a deep bow, though the respect of the gesture was somewhat offset by the fact that the motion put the queen at the business end of a dozen sharp points. “Please forgive my breach of etiquette. It is of course a pleasure to have you, Your Majesty.” He straightened, and the small smile he’d managed to pull over his mouth looked painful. “I only wish I’d had more time to prepare for your arrival.”

“I find I have more fun when my hosts don’t know I’m coming.” Dubheasa looked around, eyeing the people seated like statues at the long dining tables. Her eyes sparkled with something akin to hunger, as if they were part of a feast, and she’d been on a diet for six months. “It’s been too long since I’ve visited. And I do so enjoy my time here.”

“Shall I get you a chair, or will this be a short visit?”

The tone in Herne’s voice made his preference clear, but if Dubheasa was offended, she gave no sign of it.

“I have my own seat, thank you.”

With a flick of her wrist, she twirled the wicked spear at her side and plunged the dark tip into the floor. Marian twitched, her skin tingling with a sudden influx of magic. Robin’s hand trailed up and down her back in soothing motions, calming her, and they both watched a network of cracks radiate out from the spear, tracing black lines over the floor.

A nest of thorn-covered vines as thick as Marian’s legs sprouted from the ground where the spear had landed, erupting like some shadowy sea creature’s squirming limbs. They made no sound, not even a hiss of displaced air. They rose in twisting spirals, writhing and weaving together until they formed a black throne at least twice the size of Herne’s own chair at the head of the grand table. Dubheasa seated herself with all the delicate grace of a little girl holding her first tea party, smoothing her shadow-skirt around her as she settled.

“Now, I’m sure you’re wondering what’s brought me here.”

Herne’s face tightened, his eyes sliding to Robin, holding all the warmth of a frozen lake. A growl vibrated somewhere in the depths of Marian’s being, but she clenched her teeth, tried to keep it silent. Something was going on here. If the queen had brought Robin, there was a good chance she was here to help. She had to try not to do anything that might impede that help. For now.

“Dubheasa, forgive me, but I have had a trying day and I find I am simply too tired for games. I believe I know why you are here.”

The smile dimmed from Dubheasa’s face, but the corners of her mouth remained tilted up, that strange light still shining in her eyes. “Oh?”

“Yes. You are here because your foster son wants you to intercede on his behalf, to use you to get what he cannot get for himself.”

Herne leveled a look at Robin that said in no uncertain terms what he thought of a man who could not fend for himself. Robin tensed in Marian’s arms, and she felt him draw a breath to answer Herne’s unspoken insult. She pressed her lips together and lowered her arms, squeezing his ribs over the bandages. The breath left Robin in a sharp hiss, the words evaporating.

Herne turned back to Dubheasa. “But I’m afraid I must insist that Marian remain here. She is my subject, and it is my belief that it is in her best interest to remain with me until I can assess the damage that’s been done to her during her time with…the humans.” It was obvious from the deliberate pause that “humans” hadn’t been what he meant. “I apologize if your time has been wasted.”

Dubheasa twirled her spear between her fingertips, catching the lights with the polished tip. “My dear man, I have no intention of taking your subject from you. Marian is a member of your court, and as such, you are perfectly within your rights to demand she stay here.” She raised her free hand, pointed a slender white finger at Herne. “Never let it be said that I meddle in affairs that aren’t my own.”

Herne opened his mouth, then seemed to reconsider. “I am pleased we understand one another.”

“Perfectly. Though, with your permission, of course, I would like to share a few words with the woman who has so completely enthralled my foster son?”

That shining black-eyed stare turned to Marian then. It was disturbingly similar to Herne’s gaze, though there was a unique element to the queen’s stare that suggested if you looked into her eyes for too long, you might fall in and be lost. It was unnerving and Marian redirected her gaze to Herne.

Her king’s eyes were narrowed, the tightening of the muscles around his mouth and eyes saying that he knew the queen was up to something, and was just trying to figure out if he could call her on it without starting a political war. For a moment, Marian swore he would say no. She bristled at the thought that he might think he had any right to determine whom she could and could not speak to. She’d gone so far as to open her mouth when Dubheasa met her eyes. There was a warning there, a clear, concise statement that spoke without words—
shut up.

“You will share words only.”

His voice wasn’t happy. Marian’s heart leapt. Whatever the queen was up to, it seemed she would get her chance.

Dubheasa inclined her head, the picture of respect. “Of course.”

Herne brushed a hand over his side as if touching an imaginary dagger. His hand clenched and unclenched, a reflection of his desire for a more simple way out of this conversation. Finally he sighed. “Very well. But if you would be quick, I would be most grateful. Our dinner is getting cold.” He shot an irritated look at Marian. “Again.”

“I will be but a moment.” Dubheasa lifted a hand, beckoned to Marian as if urging a butterfly to alight on her hand.

Marian hesitated for just a second. Stories of the Unseelie Queen were as frightening as those of the Wild Hunt. The only reason not to fear her right now was the fact that Herne posed a greater risk to her personally. A hand settled on her back. She looked up to see Robin smiling at her. He took her hand and gestured with his chin. Just like that, the unease slid away and she smiled back, letting him lead her to the Queen of Air and Darkness. Herne watched with blatant disapproval as she approached the queen, Robin’s hand in hers.

“Would you give your life for my foster son?” Dubheasa asked.

The starkness of the question sent Marian’s eyebrows into her hairline, the reassurance of Robin’s hand in hers the only thing keeping her from reaching behind her for an arrow. She forced herself to hold still, to think. The queen waited patiently for her answer, as though she’d asked if she liked sugar in her tea. Despite the question, there didn’t seem to be any malice in the
sidhe
. Once she got past the shock of the question, the answer came easily. She’d been thinking about it since the moment she’d been forced to leave Robin behind, forced to face the likelihood of his death. “Yes.”

“Dubheasa…” Herne warned.

She waved a hand at him without taking her eyes from Marian. “Only words, Herne, only words.” She stared at Marian a moment longer, searching her eyes, weighing the truth of her claim. Finally she nodded. Then she turned to Robin. “And you, my son. Would you give your life for this woman?”

“I would,” Robin said immediately.

“No!” Marian whirled, a sudden and inexplicable fear seizing her, digging claws into her lungs until it hurt to breathe. “No, don’t talk of dying for me, not here in this place.” She cupped his face in her hands, cradled the jaw that was so familiar to her now. “I don’t want you to die, not because of me.”

“My dear girl, do not interrupt.” Dubheasa rapped her spear on the floor, the sound loud in the silent room. “I didn’t ask him if he would die for you. I asked him if he would give his life for you. A world of difference.”

Robin put his arms around her and pulled her close, careful to keep her on the opposite side of his body from his injuries. “I would,” he repeated, this time looking into Marian’s eyes when he said it.

“If you die, I will never forgive you,” Marian rasped. She clutched his shirt in her fists, wrinkling the cotton beyond hope.

Robin chuckled and leaned down to nuzzle her forehead. “I will try to be my usual accommodating self.”

“Excellent.” Dubheasa beamed and clapped her hands. “In that case, Robin Goodfellow, do you take this woman Marian LaFey to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“What?” Herne bellowed.

The creatures at the tables behind him erupted in a hiss of whispers that buzzed against Marian’s skin. Herne tensed. He didn’t look over his shoulder, but nevertheless managed to convey his displeasure. The room immediately quieted. Marian’s stomach turned. Did Herne have control over all his court like that? Or had he just summoned the most obedient here for her first night?

When he spoke again, his voice was low, full of warning and just the briefest hint of a growl. “Dubheasa—”

Dubheasa cut him off with a wave of her spear, the shining tip once again drawing the light, highlighting the deadly point. “You said I could have words with Marian.” Her dress and throne began to ripple, darkening, edges turning to black mist. It flowed forward, just an inch or so, like a pet asking permission to inspect a visitor. “I have done nothing beyond what I was given your blessing to do.”

“I gave no permission for a marriage.” There was a definite growl in Herne’s voice now, a predator’s only warning.

He’d dropped his head, angling his antlers toward Dubheasa’s spear, but Marian couldn’t be sure if that had been intentional or not. Her pulse throbbed against her skin, adrenaline trickling through her veins like a promise. She could practically smell the blood in the air. She blinked, realized what direction her thoughts had been going in, and pressed harder against Robin. Will’s words echoed back to her.

Robin curled an arm around her waist. He looked down at her and if she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn he was reading her mind, knew exactly what she was feeling. He bent down and kissed the top of her head.

“You’re going to be all the excitement I can handle, aren’t you?” he whispered into her hair.

Marian’s spirits lifted and she leaned her head against his chest. “You have no idea,” she murmured.

“You gave up that right a millennia ago,” Dubheasa snapped back. She stood from her throne with a flourish, sending a wave of tension rolling over the room as the people gathered there watched her face off against their king. “As I recall, it was part of why you left my court, why you created your own little domain here. You thought the politics of my kingdom were
barbaric
, that no monarch should have a say in the mating of her people. Well, you’ve made your bed. Now go lie in it while I finish
speaking
with Marian.”

Marian’s jaw dropped. Herne sucked in a breath, eyes sparking with real fury. He took a step forward.

“I do.”

Robin’s voice fell into the silence, drew the attention of the two monarchs. Herne bared his teeth and Dubheasa beamed. The words echoed in Marian’s head, growing louder and louder until they ate her world. The full realization of what was happening finally dawned on her, finally registered.

“And do you, Lady Marian, take this man Robin Goodfellow to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Dubheasa’s voice was gentle, a jarring change from the anger that had sharpened it a moment ago. Marian groped for Robin’s other hand, needing an anchor as her emotions swelled, threatened to toss her about like a rag doll. He took it in his, held both of their hands clasped together.

“I… I do,” she whispered. A tear slid from her eye and she realized she was nodding, over and over. “I do, of course I do.”

“In that case, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Marian didn’t know what expression was on Herne’s face now, what level his rage had attained. Her entire world was consumed by Robin’s face, that handsome, pale face that she’d never thought to see again. His eyes glittered as he leaned down, and she let hers drift closed as his lips touched hers.

It wasn’t their first kiss, but it was the first they’d shared as husband and wife, the first since he’d found out her secret, knew what she was. Part of her expected him to hold back, even though she knew him far too well to think him so shallow.