To Love a King (Court of Annwyn) (18 page)

The doors to the hall remained open, and fairies gathered on the outside when no more could fit inside. Was this every fairy in Annwyn and across the veil, bar those who were banished or exiled? Quite possibly. His word must have spread far and wide. He bit back the smile and lifted his hands for silence.

“I called this meeting, not my father, the King. Annwyn is weakening. Winter is settling. Death has bled to the mortal world.”

“And yet you do nothing but talk. I have an heir and consort.” Sulia walked through the crowd, arriving late for maximum impact, Stuart at her side.

He was going to kill them both—with iron.

“You transgress, Sulia. Crown Prince Felan called the meeting; he gets to speak first. You may speak second. Show some respect for the laws.” The King leaned forward. His words resonated with power that would drain him further.

Sulia looked away, a smile still on her lips as if she didn’t care. Her rudeness wouldn’t sit well with those who respected the old laws.

“I didn’t come here to make a speech. I came to tell you that the Queen will be executed at noon, and the borders will be closed.” For a moment there was absolute silence. One snowflake fell and landed with a splat on his black boot.

Then sound erupted all around the room—shock that it was happening today, relief that it was nearly over. Sulia turned paler.

Felan raised his hands again. “I have one mortal day to present my pregnant consort. Then the coronation will take place and spring will return to Annwyn.” He nodded and smiled as if it were all in the bag. Unless Sulia stepped up to contest him officially—or something happened to Jacqui—it was. He had to believe everything was happening according to plan.

Some fairies clapped at that news.

“You cannot bring forward the execution.” Sulia stepped forward. “You do not have that power.”

Taryn moved from her place on the other side of the King’s throne. “As Hunter of Annwyn, I can, and I freely give him that right. Sire?” Taryn inclined her head at Gwyn.

He gave a single nod. “Let this bitter business be done. To delay any longer means letting winter settle more deeply. I do not wish a long, hard winter on anyone.”

“Thank you for attending.” Felan gave a nod to the crowd and then acted as though he planned to leave, thus ending the meeting. He didn’t even glance at Sulia. She was about to miss her window to challenge him.

“Wait. I want my chance to speak.” She moved toward the front, but didn’t dare step up and place herself on the same level as the King in a formal meeting. “How do we even know you have a pregnant wife-to-be?” Sulia patted her swollen stomach, drawing attention to the fact she was more than ready to take the throne.

“By your own admission, in the Hall of Flowers in front of many, you attacked her with the intent on harming the baby, and you also arranged an attack on me.” He looked at the crowd. “Do you want Sulia and her consort as your rulers? Or me and the woman I’ve been seeing for over seven mortal years?” He paused to let the words sink in. That was a half-truth at best, but he had been watching her in the mirrors all that time. “She has been preparing for that long.”

Not a total lie, but as close as he was going to tell. He needed to be clean, for his words to be true, where Sulia was all about deception. He hoped that his honesty wouldn’t come back to bite him.

“I will not step aside when Sulia has not formally declared herself a contender. If she wants the throne, she will have to fight me for it.” He stared directly at her. How far would she go?

Her face hardened, and her mouth pulled tight into a thin line, as though she hadn’t expected this from him. Was Sulia’s only plan to get rid of Jacqui, so she could step in and claim the throne by default?

“I back my son. I do not agree with Sulia’s methods, which she learned from the damned Queen.” The King’s words were designed to remind people that Sulia had once been a favorite of the Queen and that she was most likely tainted by the Queen’s corruption. The King looked at Sulia. “Step aside and do what is right.”

“No. I have every right to contest the succession, as does every fairy here.” She looked around as if expecting others to step forward. No one did. Succession was rarely challenged by those without a blood claim, yet Sulia had a claim, and she wasn’t using it to her advantage.

That gave Felan a moment of concern. He glanced at his father. Did he know that Sulia was related by blood?

“Then do it and stop dancing around the edges. Make your announcement.” Felan stared at her, hoping she’d blink first and step back. Had she hoped to win through underhanded trickery? That wasn’t the way fairies worked. The games and deals were honest; words were kept. Did Sulia plan on destroying even those simple values?

She hesitated. “Very well. I, Sulia merch Edern ap Nudd ap Beli, state my claim to the throne. I have a consort and heir, and I have royal blood that I have kept hidden for fear of attack from the current King.”

Gwyn didn’t flinch. He’d known. Damn him. Why had he kept it to himself?

“How can we be sure that you are speaking the truth now about your lineage?” Felan raised an eyebrow. Now that he’d forced her into declaring, the game had changed.

“I made sure all of Edern’s children were born across the veil,” Gwyn said.

“You failed, and now your brother, my father, will get the last laugh with his heir on the throne you fought so bitterly for.” Sulia smiled at the King.

“You never knew your father. He never spoke an honest word in his life.” Gwyn gave her a slow appraisal. “I am not surprised you followed in his steps and lied about your own name.”

“I had to, or you would’ve arranged my execution.” She stepped closer to the King and Felan drew in a breath.

Taryn moved closer to Gwyn, her hand on the hilt of her sword. “Step back and remember who is your King.”

Sulia looked as though she’d just been forced to cut her own wrist as she took a step back and lowered her gaze.

“I never killed any of my brother’s children. That is not our way. Children are valued. They were, however, all born in the mortal world as changelings. Perhaps he had one woman hidden here in Annwyn, protected by someone loyal to him.” Gwyn blinked and sighed as if not believing it was possible.

Felan realized that his father’s plan had been to deny that Sulia was related by blood. There would always be a shadow of doubt over her lineage, even if she won. While it was true that those without a blood claim could throw their hand in and try to take the throne, few ever gained enough support for war to happen. Sulia, on the other hand, already had supporters. So why mention her connection now?

Gwyn turned his head and looked at Felan. “Is the border secure, Son?”

Felan nodded. He had to stop thinking about Sulia and worry about his own plans. As heir, his job was to monitor the veil, something which he had turned to his advantage. He smiled, forcing his lips to turn. He could play this game for a little longer and win. He just had to keep going. “I have closed the border to outgoing travel in preparation for the execution and power shift. No one can leave, but those on the other side of the veil still have time to get home.” Felan’s smile widened, cool and calculating, and he met Sulia’s gaze.

She gave a small, almost unperceivable flinch at the news. “How is that possible?”

“I listened and I learned from the singing stones in the castle. I know how Annwyn works. I know the loopholes and technicalities.” He’d spent time listening to the stones as a youth and more recently to learn more about the last few power shifts. The knowledge was there for anyone willing to listen. When things had gotten out of control or he was licking his wounds, or just needed some peace away from Court and the endless expectations, he’d lie on the grass, close his eyes, and listen as the stones sung and spoke over each other, their conversations blending and changing. “I have been preparing to rule Annwyn my whole life.”

Sulia’s eyes brightened in anger. “You still need to get your Queen here. Good luck getting her across.”

Gwyn raised his hand. “Enough. You can formally introduce your consorts and make your pledges after Eyra is executed for treason.”

If Jacqui failed to arrive, his quest for the throne was over, and everyone knew it. Felan kept his expression fixed and regarded the Court as confidently as he dared. If Jacqui did arrive, there was a good chance he’d have to declare a formal battle for the throne. Now that Sulia had gone this far, he doubted she’d back down without blood.

Jacqui opened her eyes and stretched. She knew immediately that Felan wasn’t in bed beside her, but she didn’t remember him leaving. She glanced around the room, looking for a clue as to what time it was. Was she late? No, someone would have woken her.

She got up, her body aching in all the right places. Her hand strayed to her stomach, but there was nothing there that she could feel and nothing else that she could do. She opened the curtains to full daylight streaming in. For a moment she stood, staring out the window at the summer sky and the trees gently moving in a sultry breeze. She’d be back. Maybe not to live but she’d visit. She stood there, not wanting to move; moving would mean admitting she was ready to go.

After several breaths, she realized she had to get moving. She still had things to do. With a sigh, she turned away and began pulling clothes out of her backpack. It was a little late for doubts, but not too late for a healthy dose of fear about what was going to happen between now and Felan becoming King. She’d brought a dress, but she wouldn’t be able to run if she had to, so she settled on jeans, a long sleeved T-shirt, and a cream jacket. Not particularly regal or fairy, but more practical. She finished off her outfit with low-heeled boots—far too overdressed for summer in Charleston but probably underdressed for winter in Annwyn.

Butterflies rioted in her stomach, but she was as ready as she was ever going to be. In the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and hair. When she closed her eyes, she saw her and Felan in the bath and felt the magic tremble across her skin like the softest brush of silk. She hoped it had worked and this wasn’t all in vain.

“It’s almost time.” Dylis leaned against the door frame. The watch she’d given Felan all those years ago was too big on Dylis’s wrist. She was touched he’d kept it and had eventually found a way to make it work in both time zones.

“I’m ready.” She hoped she sounded more certain than she felt. Dylis looked her over and Jacqui shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. “What is it?”

“Do you want something to eat?”

She didn’t think she could eat anything even if she tried. She shook her head.

Dylis shrugged. “Let’s go.”

Jacqui followed her downstairs, the fairy gliding quietly through the house. No one was waiting to say good-bye. Was she really going to leave the mortal world without anyone noticing? Apparently so. Where was everyone?

She clamped her teeth together and refused to let either sadness or nerves get the better of her. They went out the front door and it clicked closed after her. Verden was sitting on the steps, waiting.

“Anything amiss?” Dylis rested her hand on her sword.

“Nothing, not a whisper.” Verden almost sounded like he was hoping for an attack.

Dylis scowled. “That’s suspicious on its own.”

He looked up, a crooked a smile on his face. “That’s what I was thinking. I know you can’t swing a sword, Jacqui, but there’s a handful of iron bolts over there and a pitchfork—just don’t take them through the doorway.” He stood and drew his sword. “I know there’s a handful of Greys who live in Charleston, and I’m willing to bet they are all between here and the cemetery. Does anyone want to bet on a peaceful walk?”

Jacqui did. She didn’t want to have to fight off fairies. Killing one had been bad enough. However, she picked up the rusted bolts and the pitchfork. This was so dumb. She was carrying a pitchfork into a battle while they had swords. “Wouldn’t I be better just running?”

“You won’t be able to open the doorway, but we are all going to move as fast as possible.” Dylis glanced at Jacqui’s shoes.

“No quarter given.” Verden turned his wrist and the sword sparkled in the sun. “Ready?”

Jacqui nodded. She could see why he had been the Hunter. There was a look in his eyes and the way he moved—when he set his mind on something, he would have it—which is probably why he’d ended up banished for pursuing Taryn. She’d never met a Grey so at ease, and until today had never trusted one with her life either.

In response, Dylis drew her sword. With Verden leading the way, they walked down the path and away from the protection of the silver tea set and Callaway House.

It was too still—not even the old oaks rustled—and too hot. She should have carried her jacket, but it would have just gotten in the way. Her fingers gripped the pitchfork a little tighter. Would she be able to kill another Grey? Her stomach turned. If she didn’t, the Grey would kill her.

Ahead, a shadow moved in the trees. Or was it a trick of her eyes?

“Trolls by the cemetery fence,” Verden whispered.

“There’s something up in the trees.” Dylis sniffed as if she could smell banished fairies in the area.

Verden nodded and walked a little faster. He let his sword drop as if he wasn’t worried. They were past the halfway mark now; if anything happened, they had to make a run for doorway. Her heart was already racing as if she was running. She really hoped there wasn’t an army on the other side waiting to grab her. Had anyone thought of that? Of course Felan had. He’d make sure she could get through. She took a deep breath, then the shadows lunged forward. Five foot and ugly, wielding clubs dotted with nails, these Greys had chosen to give up looks and stature to remain strong and had become the trolls of human myth.

“Whatever you do, do not stop. Get her through the damn door.” Verden kept walking forward.

“I’ll come back and help,” Dylis said.

“No, you won’t. If anything happens to you, Bram will have me in the river as quick as the banishment lifts.” Then he started the fight by taking the hand off a Grey. Screams and the scent of blood filled the air. Then the trolls were all around them. For a moment, Jacqui froze. She didn’t know what to do or how to help. She didn’t know how to fight.

“Move.” Dylis nudged her.

It was enough to snap her out of the waking nightmare. She was holding iron. Dylis blocked a troll’s attack and Jacqui saw an opening and stabbed. The prongs connected and sunk through flesh. She yanked the tool back and struck again. This time it got stuck and the troll fell back howling, blue blood weeping from the wounds. Dylis pulled her forward. Now she had nothing except the bolts.

Verden was trying to stay at the back, but the gap was widening.

The doorway wasn’t far now. Something screeched and then there was a Grey, clinging to her head and shoulders. Tiny fingers dug into her eyes. She squeezed them closed and tried to pull it off her. The hand still holding a bolt connected with a little leg, but it held fast to her hair. Dylis was still trying to drag her forward, but she couldn’t see a thing.

She smacked it again with the bolt and pressed. There was the smell of burning skin and an inhuman howl; then it was gone. Jacqui looked up. Verden had it on the end of his sword. Behind him were three dead trolls. His face was pulled into a grimace, but she couldn’t tell if the blood was his or the trolls’. He used his boot to pull the body free and wiped his blade on the dead Grey’s clothing.

“Are you okay?” Jacqui said.

He nodded, lines forming around his mouth and eyes as though he was holding back the pain, and she knew he was lying.

“Verden can take care of his own wounds. Caspian or Lydia will help him.” But even Dylis looked concerned. “If you don’t come with me now, it will be worse for everyone involved.” She had her hand around Jacqui’s arm, her grip tight.

“Thank you.” She called to Verden as Dylis dragged her forward. She hoped whatever injury he had would heal. Then the air shimmered and an icy breeze hit her skin. She was sure she felt snow, but when she looked, there was nothing in front of her except the cemetery. She took a last look at Verden, surrounded by death. It was all for her. Dylis gave her arm a tug and Jacqui took a step. The cemetery vanished, replaced by bare trees and snow.

She’d expected a jolt or something to delineate the mortal world from Annwyn, but there was nothing. One step she was in Charleston, the next she was here. Snow drifted down in lazy spirals, settling on her clothes and catching in her hair. This wasn’t what she’d been expecting. It was more winter wonderland than endless summer. And it was wintrier than when she’d seen it through the mirror. The trees were nothing more than silver branches reaching for a heavy purple-gray sky. She released a breath and it clouded in front of her. She was in Annwyn. She turned to wave to Verden, but there were only more trees behind her.

“How do we leave?”

“We don’t.” Dylis pointed to the sword sticking out of a tree. “No one leaves until Felan reopens the doorway.”

***

Fairies, and the one soulless changeling, gathered like crows near the bank of the river of the damned—but not too close, lest the water rise up and drag them in. The once-flat river was choppy. Waves slapped the shore of Annwyn. The other side was shrouded in heavy mist; not even fairies could see past life and into death. Felan stood motionless watching the procession.

Taryn led the Queen forward. No longer dressed in finery, she was in a plain black dress. Her hair was loose and her wrists were bound in silver. Felan wanted to look away, but he had to stand fast. No weakness, not now. Opposite him stood Sulia and Stuart.

The Court had walked from the castle to the river to witness the execution of the Queen; now they stood like a guard of honor for her last walk. In fact, it was so she had nowhere to run to. Behind her was the Hunter, before her the river, and on each side were fairies.

His mother kept her chin up. She didn’t look at him; she looked at Sulia. Their hands touched briefly before Taryn nudged her forward. The King was absent. He couldn’t have made the walk, weakened as he was, plus Felan doubted Gwyn had the heart to watch his wife die, even though he had been the one to sentence her to death for treason.

Felan glanced up. It was almost noon. He hoped Jacqui was close and that this served as a big enough distraction to get her into the castle safely.

Taryn stopped and so did Eyra.

“Do you have any final words?” Taryn’s voice didn’t quaver, but Felan knew she hadn’t been looking forward to this moment. Verden would have marched the Queen to the water’s edge at the end of his sword without breaking stride, but then, Verden was used to Court life and knew that the Queen had been poisoning Annwyn against the King for a very long time.

The Queen turned and faced the assembled fairies. More than just the Court, most of Annwyn was here. “I have lived longer than any mortal. I have become one of you, learned your ways, ruled your Court, and celebrated your festivals. My death will not go unnoticed or unrecorded. I will have my funeral games.”

There was a flash of silver as she brought a small knife to her neck and slashed. Red blood welled in the wound, a reminder that she had once been human no matter how fairy she behaved.

Curse
it.
He looked across for Sulia, but she’d melted back into the crowd. Sulia had slid the knife into the Queen’s hands so she could avoid the river. His mother started choking on her blood. He grabbed one arm. Taryn took the other one and together they dragged Eyra closer to the water.

“Watch your feet,” Felan said.

Taryn didn’t glance up. “I am.”

A wave reared up, faces pressed against the water, watery hands pushing through the surface, reaching and grasping.

“Push,” Felan ordered.

Together he and Taryn gave the Queen a push, and she stumbled forward as they scrambled back. He watched as the water lunged and grabbed Eyra. She cried out and was then dragged under.

His hands started to shake. They were coated in bright red human blood. His mother’s blood. “It is done. The doorway will now be sealed until coronation.” He hoped that Jacqui was here. “Hunter, close the doorway.”

Someone handed him a cloth and he wiped his hands. He wished the memory were as easy to erase. What had he done that had turned his mother’s heart against him? Why had she felt the need to tear apart Annwyn? He was doing the right thing in stopping Sulia. He had to believe that this was bigger than his life and his wants. Yet every time he thought of Jacqui, he knew he’d pushed her into this too fast. It was all happening too fast, and he couldn’t stop now that he’d started.

Taryn nodded and led the way from the river and back toward the castle, then across what had once been lush lawn in front of the two trees that marked the main doorway to Annwyn.

Footprints marked the snow-covered ground between doorway and castle, but there were too many to tell if one set was Jacqui’s or not. Felan wanted to run to the castle and search every room, but he had to trust Dylis.

Please
let
Jacqui
be
here
and
be
okay.

As they reached the doorway, he saw a white watch hanging from his father’s sword. He moved through the crowd to claim it. Relief washed through him as he touched it and lifted it free.
She
was
here.
He slipped it into his pocket as Taryn drove her sword into the opposite tree. Annwyn was sealed by the silver of King and Hunter, and would only be reopened when there was a new Hunter and a new King…or Queen.