To Love a King (Court of Annwyn) (21 page)

She frowned as if remembering, then nodded slowly. “And spring?”

“Spring will allow the leaves to grow, for flowers to bud, and the grass to return…but it won’t reach its full lushness and summer until our child is born. I am okay with that. There is no need to just live in summer. Perhaps a long spring is what the Court needs to remember not to take summer for granted.” They needed the long spring to adjust to their new roles and reformed relationship. He drew her into an embrace. “We can do this.”

“I know. I just…I just need to know what I am hoping for. What you are fighting for.”

“I’m fighting for everyone—you, the baby, me, Annwyn, and all of the mortal world.”

Jacqui drew back. “Just fight to live, Felan. Let the rest fall into place.”

“You’re right. One thing at a time.” He touched her cheek and hoped that this wouldn’t be the last time he held her in his arms. Then he let her go so he could finish dressing. Showing up late to the battle he’d called would be very bad form.

Jacqui began dressing, again in her jeans and boots, but this time she put on one of his shirts, a bright blue one that fell to mid-thigh on her. Over that, she put on a cloak of bright, summer green that he hadn’t worn for a very long time—seven mortal years to be exact. She looked like a spring Queen. For a moment he considered changing their plans and letting everyone see her. She was life, vital and beautiful in the gaudy colors of the summer Court. Without her, there would be no summer worth seeing in Annwyn.

Sulia would bring summer, but it wouldn’t be one filled with joy. It would be hard and crackling with tension, like a thunderstorm waiting to burst. Corruption would grow and Annwyn itself would change to match. He’d seen thorns on the flowers where once there had been none and knew they were his mother’s doing as she fed the deal making and scheming.

He picked up the cup of life from the dressing table and handed it to Jacqui. “Hide this, so Sulia can’t use it. I think she still believes my father has it, but I want to be sure it is safe.”

If Sulia had it, she would use it to heal her supporters and he would lose simply by injury.

She nodded. “I’ll only get it out if things are going badly.”

With Dylis and Bramwel, they had agreed she would watch from one of the upper chambers—that way only a few would know where she was—and that she would only assist if things were going really badly. The definition of
really
badly
had been debated, but if Sulia outnumbered them two to one or Dylis and Bramwel were both out or Felan was injured, that was bad.

Then he handed her a silver knife with a blade no longer than his fingers. “Only if you have to defend yourself.” He didn’t want her to start her rule with blood the way he was.

She took it carefully and slipped the sheathed blade into her back pocket. The cup disappeared beneath the shirt, hidden. While he really wanted to leave a guard with her, he couldn’t afford to lose a single sword and couldn’t be sure he trusted anyone else.

“Good luck.” She pressed her lips to his for a moment.

It was enough to take away anything he might have said to her. There were no words of comfort or pretty lies. This was it. She bent down and picked up the ribbon from where it had been forgotten last night. She carefully threaded it through a ring on the sleeve of his armor and tied it in double bow. He held her hand for a moment, then led her out of his chamber.

They walked upstairs and through the castle. He could hear preparations being made, people talking, but he didn’t know if they were on his side or Sulia’s. Maybe some had rethought overnight, and there would be a few last-minute changes…maybe, but he didn’t trust them if they were that fickle.

He opened up a door and checked inside. Dylis had found this room. There were so many in the castle that didn’t get used or that had been forgotten about. This one was a hollow in a trunk, the window a split that wasn’t wide enough for him to pass through. Below was the battleground, the area between the castle and the sealed doorway. From here, Jacqui could watch, but most importantly she would be hidden and safe.

Already the armies were gathering. Dylis and Taryn were checking weapons and making sure none were poisoned with the river water. The hounds darted around, their red-tipped ears and tails the only parts visible against the snow. There was definitely a thicker covering this morning; people were sinking up to their shins in it. That would make the fighting harder.

He needed to get down there, but his hand was still around Jacqui’s as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. What if this was it? He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to imagine the victory, the first buds of spring and her stomach large with his child. He tried to see himself on the throne, but it all seemed so far away. He opened his eyes and looked at her.

“I love you. Whatever happens, I love you.” He embraced her, drawing her closer, but unable to feel her body because of the stupid chainmail.

“I know. I love you too. No matter what, I’m glad we got a second chance.” She was smiling, but her eyes were glistening.

He couldn’t be here if she was going to cry. Instead, he kissed her cheek and pressed a key into her hand. “Lock the door after me and open it for no one except me, Dylis, or Bramwel.”

She nodded, her teeth worrying at her lip. Then he turned and left. He paused to listen to the snick of the lock, then made his way down to the battlefield.

In the little room she was warm, but that was about all that was good about being locked in the sparsely furnished hollow in the tree. She didn’t feel safe. She didn’t want to watch out the window, yet not watching and not knowing what was going on was worse.

The two sides had taken their places at opposite ends of the field. A brown-haired woman without a ribbon on her arm—Taryn, the supposedly neutral Hunter—stood in the middle. While noise drifted up, Jacqui couldn’t make out the words. Last-minute rules? A reminder to play fair?

Purple and yellow ribbons fluttered on the warriors’ clothing. Sulia wore black with just the yellow ribbon on her arm. Both sides had archers and swordsmen. Could all fairies fight? Is that what they learned as children? She knew Felan was unusual in that he could read and write, but then he’d made a point of learning about humanity in preparation for becoming King. Now none of that mattered. It all came down to a formal battle fought with just twenty people per side.

She held her breath as Taryn moved off the field. There was a tent set up—for the wounded or was the King watching? She couldn’t see anything more than the green, patterned roof. Were people really willing to die today, or would first blood be enough? She remembered everything Felan had said about Sulia and knew that she wouldn’t stop until every last supporter of Felan’s was on the ground.

For a moment, neither side moved. Her heart pulsed, counting off the time. Then everything happened at once. Sulia’s side started running forward and Felan’s loosed arrows. This wasn’t a fairy game or a mock battle; people were actually going to die. Her hand strayed to the cup. They didn’t have to. She could save them if she filled the cup with wine and they drank from it. But they’d gone through all of this last night. Everyone knew the risks, even though it had been centuries since the last real battle. The last one had been between Verden and the old Hunter. Verden had won and claimed the title while the old Hunter had been sent to the river. Which was exactly where today’s loser would end up. She closed her eyes but couldn’t move away from the window.

The ring of metal on metal filled the room. She paced, she sat, she leaned against the edge of the window, always looking for Felan and finding him too close to the front for her heart to rest. Sulia stayed near the back, giving orders, but surrounded by three soldiers just in case Felan’s warriors broke through. The snow turned gray as it was churned up beneath feet, then it became spotted with blue as blood was spilled.

For a moment she lost sight of Felan, then he reemerged out of a pack. He was trying to cut his way through to Sulia. Arrows arced overhead and sliced anyone below. Felan and the small group around him had crossed into the enemy side. The rest of his army was pushing through, but not as fast. What if he got cut off, surrounded, and killed? Her stomach flipped and dived. It had seemed like a good plan last night. Her gaze scanned the field. Sulia was using her squad to try and surround Felan. Her archers had stopped firing. Felan’s were still picking off yellow-ribbon wearers on the edges, leaving the center melee unhindered.

A scrape behind her tore her attention from the field. She listened again, trying to block out the cries and noise of battle. A clicking kind of sound, like metal on metal, as if…as if someone were trying to open the door.

For a moment her heart stopped and she heard nothing. It was as if the whole of Annwyn stood still as she realized she was screwed. Trapped and probably about to die, because if it were Dylis or Bram, they would have called out. She had to hide the cup. Above her, the ceiling was a tangle of branches. It would have to do; there was nowhere else. She stood on the chair, hoping it wouldn’t collapse beneath her weight, and shoved the cup up into the ceiling, then jumped clear. There was no point in pushing the chair against the door, as it opened out into the hallway, and it was too cumbersome for her to use as a weapon, so she put the chair between her and whoever was coming for her.

It was another couple of heartbeats before the door clicked and swung open.

Stuart.

He stepped back, as if surprised he’d actually found her, but quickly recovered. He pocketed the tools he’d used to pick the lock, then stepped into the room. “I’ve been looking for you all morning.”

“Why would you do that when your lover is on the battlefield, fighting for your life as well as hers?”

He snorted. “Do you really think she won’t win?”

Jacqui didn’t bother answering. Her fingers were brushing the hilt of the small knife in her back pocket while she tried to look casual. He stepped around the chair, and she mirrored him, keeping the chair between them. If she could reach the door, she could make a run for it. He obviously had the same thought, as he moved back, putting himself closer to the door. There was no way she would have time to squeeze herself out the window, assuming she’d fit, and even then, tree climbing had never been her specialty. She was the kid who got halfway up and got stuck—or fell. And the ground was a long way down.

“What do you want?”

He grinned as cold as any fairy, and she knew exactly what he wanted.

“I thought the rules said no human was to be harmed.” She’d been there when they were spoken, and so had he.

“No
fairy
was to harm a consort. There was nothing about us having our own little fight. We can decide the winner, not them. It’s us who has the power. Do you not realize that? Without us, there is no Annwyn.” His eye took on a gleam usually reserved for fevered fanatics.

Did she play along or strike first?

Stuart took a couple steps back and snagged the door. He closed it with a thud. While not locked, if she did make a break for it, it would take her longer to get the door open and he’d be on her. She scanned his black clothing looking for a weapon, but saw none. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try and finish what he’d started at the airport. He’d be hoping to make her miscarry or kill her outright.

“You realize if you’d just lost the baby or run away, none of this would be happening. No one would be dying. This is your fault; you gave Felan hope.”

“Sulia isn’t the rightful heir. I think the blame lies with you and her.” She forced a smile and tried to look relaxed. “If you care to look out the window, you’ll see that Felan is carving his way to her as we speak. When she is dead, you will have to plead for his mercy.”

“Never. He will not win. No one even believes you are pregnant.” He leered at her. “Maybe that’s his game. You are the distraction, the Queen, but his child is in someone else’s stomach. Either way, once you are dead, he loses.” He moved closer and she stepped back. Fear made her heart beat hard and her breath catch. He was going to corner her.

Whichever way she ran, he would catch her. Her heart hammered, the singing of metal and the screaming of people filled her ears. He stepped onto the chair as if he planned to jump and knock her down.

Stuart glared at her. “You are mine now.” His lips were curled into a sneer as if he thought she was useless and trapped. A toy for him to break at his leisure.

She pulled the knife free but kept it hidden beneath the folds of the cloak. If she screwed this up, Stuart would take it off her and use it to kill her. If she gave him the chance, he’d jump on her and pin her to the ground, and that was much worse. Her gaze scanned his body as she pretended to dither about which way to run, as if she were seriously considering making a break for the door. He mirrored her every move. “Come on, pick a direction and let’s get to this. One.” He held up one finger.

Where could she stab him that would be fatal? Not the ribs, too many bones. The neck? On the chair he was too tall. Her gaze lowered.

“You’re going to die anyway, so I might as well have some fun first. Two.” Two fingers.

The groin—which was almost eye level. Yes, that would work.

“Give up and I’ll make it quick. Beg me for mercy. Three.” He flexed his fingers as if preparing to leap down and grab her.

She exhaled and took one more breath. “Never.”

He lunged, and she swung the knife up. The blade bit into fabric and flesh, his body weight as he fell toward her driving it deeper. They stumbled backward, locked together, her hand now slippery on the hilt, but she held on and twisted like Felan had said, then tried to drag it upward. Stuart was yelling and pushing her away. She tore the knife free, determined not to let him have it. Her hand was painted crimson. He clutched at his thigh. Blood coated his hands and splattered on the floor in hot, pulsing spurts. She’d hit the artery.

“You fucking bitch.” He lunged again but fell over, slipping in his own blood.

Jacqui took that second to open the door and run.

***

Felan couldn’t feel his toes. His muscles had stopped aching a while ago, now he just slogged on because quitting was death. The main part of his force was somewhere behind him. Around him fluttered a few purple ribbons in a sea of yellow that was pressing closer and closer with every breath.

He was not going down.

Jacqui was waiting for him. He wouldn’t fail her—or Annwyn or the mortal world.

He couldn’t. This was what he’d been born for. What he’d prepared for—in his own way. He tried not to kill, just wound, cutting at his opponent’s legs or hands, using the sword as a club so they fell into the now blue-stained snow unconscious. So much blood and still the battle went on. Who’d have thought forty fairies could bleed so much without dying? He knew logically some would be dead, but he tried not to think about it. The people who were trying to keep him from getting killed were as much a hindrance as they were help.

Above the noise sounded a bell, the clear chime calling for the ceasing of hostilities. People faltered. Had the battle been won? Was Sulia dead? Surrendered? He didn’t believe it. It had to be a trick. Taryn rode through the mess on a white horse with a bell in her hand, ringing for a halt to the battle. What was she doing?

“Felan ap Gwyn ap Nudd ap Beli, step forward.” Taryn cast her gaze over the field.

The fairies around him, friend and foe, stepped aside so he could make his way to the Hunter.

“Sulia merch Edern ap Nudd ap Beli, step forward.”

Felan watched as her army parted and then formed alongside her like an honor guard as if they expected foul play. If there was any, it would be coming from her.

“The rest of you, stay back.” Taryn raised her hand and Sulia was forced to walk up to Taryn alone, like he had. “Remove your ribbons. The battle is over.”

Sulia grinned and clapped her hands as if she’d been expecting this outcome. What evil had she executed while he’d been fighting? Where was Jacqui?

Felan’s heart stopped and the exhaustion from fighting claimed him. He wanted to crumple to the ground and never get up. The only reason the battle would be over was if one of the consorts was dead.

Not
Jacqui. No, she couldn’t be dead.

But Sulia’s smile didn’t falter.

He stood only because he refused to die on his knees. Without Jacqui, he would willingly walk into the river. He couldn’t live without her again.

A procession of shadow servants came out of the castle bearing a body. He glanced away, not wanting to see, but a flicker of color near the back of the procession caught his eye. He looked over; it wasn’t Jacqui they were carrying. She was walking behind, her light green cloak splattered in red.

Sulia drew in a breath. “No.”

The horse stamped its feet, as if eager for this to be done. Taryn waited until the shadows drew close, then placed the body on the ground before her. She slid down from the horse and drew back the cloak so everyone could see who lay there. Even in death, Stuart didn’t look peaceful. He looked annoyed, as if he’d been cheated.

Felan looked at Jacqui—she was pale. Was she hurt? It was hard to tell. It was also hard to tell how Stuart had died, even though Jacqui wore his blood. But he was dead, which meant Sulia had no consort and no soul to give to Annwyn. Annwyn was his. Jacqui was his. A smile formed on his lips. This was the first time in weeks he had reason to let the worry go and be truly happy.

“The consort of Sulia is dead, killed by the consort of Felan.”

Around him swords were being sheathed.

“No, I can get another consort. The battle must be finished.” Sulia’s voice took on an edge of desperation.

“Only the King and the Hunter can remove the swords closing the veil. Without a consort, you are not eligible to fight for the throne. Therefore, you lose. Felan wins.” She paused, then said it again. “A new King is made. Long live Felan!”

A cheer went up, but he wasn’t listening anymore. He was moving toward Jacqui and she toward him.

He hugged her close, kissed her lips, aware he was covered in blood as well. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Except I killed a man.” She looked a little pale, as if she might faint.

“It would have been you if you hadn’t.” Had Sulia sent Stuart to find Jacqui and kill her? Or had that been his own plan, one which had unraveled fast?

“I know.” She closed her eyes for a moment and drew a couple breaths. “All I can smell is blood. I’m going to be sick.” She stepped away from him, her hand on her chest as she sucked in several deep breaths and swallowed a couple times. After a few moments, she seemed to get control of herself and turned back to face him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” He knew he was cut and bruised, but it was nothing that wouldn’t heal in a few days.

People were calling his name. He took Jacqui’s hand and turned to face the Hunter. Taryn held the crown in one hand and a knife in the other.

“Do you accept the responsibilities as well as the privileges of King? Do you promise to judge all souls fairly and condemn none who might redeem themselves? Do you promise to keep Annwyn stable for as long as you can before passing on the crown?”

“I do.” How much time had she spent memorizing these words and learning what to do? Verden had done a good job coaching her. He should be here to see her. To see that in such a short amount of time, she had risen from a daughter of Brownies to the Hunter who saw the change of Kings.