To Love a King (Court of Annwyn) (5 page)

Jacqui would lose her soul, and her afterlife, to save two worlds, but in return, she’d live for centuries and have a life she could only imagine. To him, losing a soul didn’t seem like an issue—fairies had no souls and therefore no afterlife. There was no gambling that it would be better once they died, as all they had was now. Jacqui, or any human Queen, might feel differently. He needed to tell her what was required. No, he needed to ask her to be his Queen first. After all, if she said no there was no point in continuing with the details.

His father carefully looked at each soul, then sent them off with a flick of his hand. There were only three choices—across the river to the Elysian fields, into the river, or becoming a shadow servant. Granting shadow status meant the souls had a chance to redeem themselves, to eventually cross the river instead of drowning forever. That was why there were more shadow servants—his father didn’t want to condemn everyone who was dying of plagues, yet not all were ready to cross. A sudden and unexpected death left souls unprepared for the afterlife. Those that were ready to become shadows approached the throne instead of a doorway and took on the solid gray of the shadow servant. No voice, no face. Felan would have to decide when they’d served their penance…or not.

Too soon, this would be his responsibility. Some days it was enough to make him want to run across the veil to the mortal world and never look back. He drew in a breath. Today was one of those days. Even if he won the throne, there was still a lot of work to do to put things right. Jacqui didn’t see that. That Annwyn came first didn’t mean he loved her less. However, he didn’t even know how to begin that conversation, or even if he had the time to have it. If she couldn’t understand the importance of what he did, it would always come between them.

He looked at his father. At a casual glance, he didn’t look a day over twenty-five, but Felan saw his true age in his eyes. Ancient and dull, he’d lost…not weight, but there seemed to be less of him. It wasn’t just Annwyn failing. His father was dying, wasting away while the Court partied.

The anger that he’d felt at the two-week deadline faded. His father deserved more than spending his last few days judging souls and waiting for death.

Felan stepped into the room and shut the door. “Do you want some help?”

***

Gwyn looked up and focused on his son. “Don’t you have more pressing things to do? This will be yours soon enough.”

The souls that had been filing past in a flicker of light and color stopped. They would wait until he was ready to begin again. So many were muddied and confused, angry and uncertain. Many longed to go back across the veil to the living, but they couldn’t. The sheer number of souls now waiting was enough for him to know how bad it was on the other side of the veil, and if Felan didn’t do something fast, it would only get worse—for everyone.

“Not if Sulia has her way.”

Gwyn grunted and let a few more souls pass. “She thinks she is popular, and people are thinking she might succeed because of the child she carries. You need to quash that and prove you have someone.” He glanced at his son. “You do have someone selected?”

Felan walked over and took the throne next to him, the one meant for the Queen—not that Eyra had ever helped judge. She was more interested in parties and power plays, and would have sent them all to the river just to get it over with. However, there was still time for Gwyn to hunt and feast and gamble. His work didn’t consume all his time, even now. Felan slouched in the throne, his legs out straight and his eyes on the bare branches that formed the roof.

Gwyn had tried to save his son from the bitter fight he’d had to win the throne by having only one child. Unfortunately, his brother, Edern, had made many children, most of which Gwyn had ensured were born in the mortal world and were no threat. Someone, however, had protected Sulia’s human mother and made sure the child was born in Annwyn, thus making Sulia a fairy. He’d failed to protect Felan from threat. Although, the fewer who knew of Sulia’s direct claim to the throne, the better. It was a secret Gwyn was happy to die with—he certainly didn’t want to legitimatize her claim by admitting her lineage.

“Yes—maybe. I don’t know.” Felan scrubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“No one does until after it’s done.” He paused to look at the soul in front of him and didn’t like what he saw. Some still had the power to make Gwyn stop and wonder what they had done to be so damaged. This one wasn’t truly evil, but it had caused enough damage to others that it wore the marks in slashes of black and red. Could this soul be redeemed and sent over the river, or was it too far gone? In his heart, he already knew the answer.
River.
This soul would drown forever. Once assigned, the soul had no choice but to go. They never knew where they were going until they got there. He’d stopped feeling guilty about sending souls to the river a long time ago. “If you don’t do something soon, you will lose by default.”

“I know that.” Felan’s hand slapped the arm of the throne. “But I want a proper marriage. I want more than…” He grimaced, as if realizing he’d gone too far.

“More than what I have?”

“I’m sorry.” Felan bowed his head.

A century ago, he would’ve taken Felan to task for speaking so boldly. “I think the time for delicate manners is behind us. You see the end result. You don’t remember the start. We were happy.” Gwyn smiled and let the early decades of summer and joy fill him for a moment—back when Eyra had acted loving even if it wasn’t in her heart, before she learned that she could control others through trickery and games. “It took a while, centuries maybe, for her to be corrupted.”

“And your mother?”

Gwyn frowned and tried to pull up memories that were millennia old. “She wanted everyone to be happy. She brought music and dances from the mortal world. There were grand processions…back then more mortals came to Court. Perhaps that was good for us and I shouldn’t have stopped the practice.” But he had because Eyra had used them cruelly.

“So it is possible for humans to keep their humanity here?”

“Many do when they are brought here.” Though it had been a while since anyone, before Sulia, had dared bring their mortal lover to Annwyn. Eyra didn’t tolerate it. If she couldn’t take a human lover, then no one could.

“They don’t have to give up their souls,” Felan muttered. His face was set somewhere between a frown and deep thought.

While it pained him to see his son struggling, there was nothing he could do. “Sulia will not let you live if you walk away.” The same way Edern had promised Gwyn’s death. If Edern had let him walk away, then the war between them would never have happened, but his brother’s insecurity and paranoia had gotten him killed.

Felan nodded. “I know, but the woman I want…it’s complicated. And now…I don’t know if I should continue or start afresh.”

“You are talking about love, not a Queen.”

“In my mind they are the same.”

“No, in your heart they are the same.” Gwyn stood. He’d had enough of silent souls for the moment. “I want you to be happy. I know you’ve made mistakes in the past—like with Caspian’s mother—and maybe that is my fault for not being clear. I would never have fought you if you wanted to step up sooner. I would have thanked you for it. We don’t get the luxury of love. Maybe it can grow, maybe you find it with a mistress, but Annwyn needs the soul of the human consort. Nothing more; nothing less.”

Felan lifted his gaze. “What would you have me do? Grab the first woman who walks past? Does she not deserve more?”

Gwyn shrugged. “Most humans come to love Annwyn once they get over the shock.” He crossed his arms and looked at his son. Felan looked so young, and yet he was already far older than many. The overlap between King and the heir assuming power was long so that the heir had the chance to learn. Half his life had been spent preparing; the other half would be spent ruling. Fairies lived much longer in the heart of Annwyn than those on the fringes or those in the mortal world. Millennia instead of centuries. In truth, Felan had been ready to rule years ago, but taking over was never easy. Gwyn knew that from bitter experience. Sometimes it was easier to leave things as they were until change had to happen. “Tell me, if Annwyn wasn’t your concern, what would you be doing? Would you be trying to win back this woman?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitating.

“Then you have your answer.”

“It will take longer than two mortal weeks.”

Gwyn smiled. He could’ve given Felan two Annwyn weeks, which would’ve been far longer in the mortal world, but his son had had plenty of time and had squandered it, and Gwyn no longer had the time to be generous. He was dying and Annwyn was killing him faster. “Then try harder. If you think she’s worth fighting for, then fight.”

Felan looked at him. “How can I convince a woman that giving up her soul and living in Annwyn is a good thing?”

“Maybe you don’t. You just bring her here and let her grow to love it.”

“Or maybe she just grows to hate me instead.” Felan pushed himself out of the throne.

“Maybe. But you won’t find out by lingering around here like a lost shadow.” Gwyn took a few paces, then turned to face his son. “I have a favor to ask.”

“I may not have time to grant it.”

Gwyn gave a low laugh. He deserved that. “I want you to go to your mother’s grove and free her statues.”

Felan’s head snapped up. “Why me?”

“Because I know that you know where it is. I do not.”

Felan raised his eyebrows. “How long have you known?”

“The time doesn’t matter. I want them freed before she is executed.” The word didn’t stick in his throat the way it had when he’d first given the order for her arrest. He’d had to choose between the Queen who hated him and his son. To give his son the best chance of succeeding, he’d had to bring the full force of the law against his wife. If he’d let her go with a warning, it would have strengthened Sulia’s campaign. Even still, it hadn’t been an easy decision, and he knew he wouldn’t be able watch as the Hunter carried out the sentence. Poor Taryn—she hadn’t volunteered for any of this, and yet she had risen when required, just like her mother. He had no doubt Felan would do the same. When the time came, his son would make sure Annwyn remained free of Sulia’s grasp.

“Very well.”

“Sooner rather than later…I have heard whispers that Sulia is planning to cut down the trees.” The statues were actually trees that had once been fairies who had somehow crossed Eyra. While trees, they lived; if they were cut down, they would die. Before his rule ended, he would try to unravel the edges of Eyra’s work to give his son a head start.

Felan drew in a sharp breath. “She wouldn’t.”

“Sulia wouldn’t even blink. Those fairies are a threat to her simply because they hate Eyra.” He didn’t need to say that if they were bad for Sulia, they could be good for Felan’s cause. Gwyn unhooked a plain drinking horn from his belt and handed it to his son.

“She doesn’t waste time either.” Felan fingered the cup of life, then tucked it beneath his waistcoat. “I will be across the veil.”

“Saving trees and winning hearts.” Gwyn smiled, but it was forced.

Felan didn’t return the smile. He bowed and left the chamber.

For a moment, Gwyn didn’t move. He closed his eyes and let the silence wash over him. He’d hoped to avoid handing Annwyn in winter to his son. He’d wanted to avoid the horror of what he’d gone through—his father pitting his sons against each other to see who was worthy to rule. Knee-deep snow stained brilliant blue with blood and trees frozen solid with ice. It had taken a long time for the snows to melt and the river to settle—longer for the bitterness to go. And here he was again, but on the other side.

It wasn’t any easier.

By the time she’d gotten back to the share house she called home, Jacqui had her emotions locked down. It wasn’t right that Felan could waltz back into her life, spin her around, and then wander off again. She had to stop letting herself be swept into his arms. She had to say no and let him find another dance partner.

She knew what happened to humans who danced with fairies—they became trapped in the dance. Was she trapped, unable to let him go because of fairy magic? Or did she still care?

Unfortunately, she cared. It had been nice to talk to him, and she’d been able to do so without breaking down. Three years ago, even one year ago, she wouldn’t have been able to do that. Her lips turned up into a smile as she realized how far she’d come from being the scared, medicated nineteen-year-old she had been when he disappeared. There was nothing wrong with caring about an ex. She was kind of sad for him that his life hadn’t gotten any better the way hers had. But she had to admit that he still scared her—not because she thought he’d hurt her, but because he still had the power to turn her life upside down. She didn’t want fairies in her life.

She opened the front door, dropped her handbag and the flowers in her room, then went looking for Ash. She was watching TV in the living room. Their other roommate worked in a bar and must have left for work already.

“You’re back way before I thought you would be.” Ash turned down the volume, while the news reporter kept talking about a disaster in Africa.

Jacqui plonked onto the sofa, her legs suddenly tired. “We didn’t have much to talk about.” Or rather, there wasn’t much to say. What had happened was in the past. He wasn’t the jerk she wanted him to be—that would be so much easier—he was just torn between two worlds. The same as always.

Ash leaned forward as if expecting more details. While Jacqui had kept her relationship with Felan a secret for years because she was afraid people would think she was crazy, she wanted to talk about him now. He had been an exciting part of her life…a part she’d thought she’d always have at the time.

“We dated for over a year, but we broke up…” She didn’t want to tell Ash the full story, about the baby or about where Felan came from—some things were best kept secret, even from her friends. Like the three awful years that had followed the breakup. “It was part misunderstanding, part wounded pride.” Part parental meddling.

“Ah, ended badly and neither of you ever got over it.”

“Not really. We got over it—it was years ago—but I guess we both needed the chance to air the wound and let it heal.” She leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes. In her mind, she saw Felan the way he had been when they’d first met, smiling and laughing as if he didn’t have a care in either world. He’d changed. He was more serious, more cautious this time. She wanted to see him grin without the edge. She wanted him to be happy.

“So that’s it? He didn’t beg for another chance?”

Jacqui opened her eyes. He hadn’t. In fact, all he’d done was ask about what had happened. She had been the one to jump to the conclusion that he was looking to rekindle what they had. “No, he didn’t.”

He hadn’t behaved the way she’d expected at all. She’d seen the look in his eyes, the heat half-hidden behind his cool green gaze. But he hadn’t acted on it the way he once would’ve. He’d kept the distance between them, even though she was sure he wanted more than the truth. So why hadn’t he done anything? What game was he playing with her?

“You know he’s going to be back.” Ash flicked her hair over her shoulder, her gaze somewhere else. Jacqui was sure she was picturing Felan and imagining what it would be like to be with him. He had that effect on women.

“I hope not.” But her words didn’t ring true. Even now there was a place in her heart that belonged to him, though she’d gotten used to living with it being empty and unfulfilled. Today had reminded her of what was missing, but also of the danger of being with Felan. He was too seductive, like a drug that she knew was bad for her but she couldn’t resist. She couldn’t go back. She didn’t know if she’d have the strength to rebuild her life when he left her again. Which he would. He’d even admitted that Annwyn was still the first thing in his mind.

“You wouldn’t give him a second chance? Man, half the women in California wouldn’t kick him out of bed in the first place.”

Oh yes, they would, and if they knew what he was, they wouldn’t even get into his bed. But that was how he worked: he’d let her think he was human for six months before revealing he was the Prince of Death. He’d proven he was fairy by holding an iron nail on his palm while she’d watched his skin burn. Then he’d vanished for two weeks and left her to dwell on what he’d said.

“His job is more important than me. It always was. Besides, he didn’t ask for a second chance.” And he probably wouldn’t. She hoped he wouldn’t. Would she be able to say no? “He doesn’t think of me that way now.” The words tasted wrong as she spoke them. He hadn’t sought her out just to learn the truth. Ash was right. He would be back. What did he really want from her? That she didn’t know scared her more than a little. She knew fairies always had an endgame in sight. What was Felan’s?

“Well, if you’re not interested, you won’t mind if I take a shot at Mr. Tall-Hot-and-Trouble.” There was a glint in Ash’s dark eyes that Jacqui didn’t like.

Her heart gave a nasty clench, and she had to bite her tongue and take a moment to make sure she didn’t turn an unflattering shade of green. Felan would’ve had lovers since her; she’d had lovers since him. But none had stolen her heart the way he had—none had ever destroyed it like he had either. And even though she’d thought he no longer had a claim on her heart, she had been wrong. She still wanted him—maybe even loved him. However, that didn’t mean they were ever going to work. Sometimes love wasn’t enough when there was a whole other world standing in the way.

Jacqui looked at Ash, trying to make her voice light. “How would you feel if I dated one of your exes?”

Ash shrugged. “If I was over him, what does it matter?”

She couldn’t argue with that. She couldn’t say no, unless she admitted she wasn’t over him, and she wasn’t ready to do that, not even to herself. “True. If he comes back, you can serve his coffee and see if he bites.”

And if he bit, she was sure that would end her attraction to the overly handsome Prince.

***

It was night when Felan stepped back into the mortal world. The air smelled different here—drier and ancient.

“Where are we?” Taryn, Lady of the Hunt, glanced around. She had her sword drawn, ready to fight as if she’d been wielding a blade for years.

Felan hadn’t been sure what they’d find when they stepped through the doorway closest to his mother’s grove. His sword was a comforting weight in his hand. He paused and listened before answering, but he heard nothing but the soft rustling of holly trees.

“Middle East.”

“Are you trying to get us killed?”

He’d been concerned that the trees would be damaged by a stray bomb, but they were far enough away from civilization and the fighting that the grove remained untouched. “Be more worried about my mother’s spies than human weapons.” He’d been here only twice before—once when he’d followed out of curiosity, and once when he’d filled a promise and freed Bramwel, who’d been trapped here as a tree. There was a very good possibility that his mother had upped the security since. “Guard the doorway.”

If that were destroyed, they would have a long walk to the next one—which would no doubt suit Sulia perfectly, as he’d lose precious days.

“Don’t take too long,” Taryn whispered.

“I don’t intend to.” He gave her a nod and moved away from the doorway. His soft-soled boots were quiet over the rocky terrain.

As before, the skin on the back of his neck prickled from both the magic in the air and the tension. They weren’t alone. Flitting along, almost hidden by the trees and darkness, were wild fae. The wild fae were what all fairies had once been—bound to nature and existing only in the mortal world—until millennia ago, when some had discovered Annwyn and claimed it as theirs. Now the wild fae and fairies were two different creatures, but they weren’t at odds. On this old hill, the wild fae were drawn to the magic of the grove and the trapped fairies. They’d watched him last time, their skin rough and dark like bark, silently waiting to see what he’d do.

Freeing Bramwel seemed to have made them happy. And if he’d cut down the tree instead and killed Bramwel? He doubted they would have interfered. Wild fae rarely interacted with anyone; they merely watched.

If there were wild fae here, what else was here? Did his mother or Sulia now have the area guarded? He hoped he wouldn’t need to use his sword tonight. He didn’t like killing.

Maybe he was too soft to be King.

He pushed the thought away. He didn’t have to kill to be a good King. His father hadn’t killed to rule the Court—but then, his mother had done enough for the both of them. The trees grew closer together, and he could feel the resonance of the grove now. The wild fae fell back, unwilling to enter the place that had been desecrated, used to bind and torture.

His mother had gone to great lengths to hide it, away from a natural doorway yet close enough that the distance could be covered with a captive, and in a place of reverence for the wild fae. What she’d done had driven them out of the grove. He paused before entering. There were seventeen trees. Well, they looked like trees to the casual eye, but when he looked closely, he could see the fairies reaching for the sky and silently crying out. Their feet were embedded in the earth. They were alive and yet not.

Bramwel had refused to discuss what the experience had been like after Felan had freed him—except to say that it was nice to have a stretch and a scratch. After the successful recovery of one fairy, he knew all could be saved. The trouble was, he didn’t know what they’d done to be put here. With his mother, it could be anything from daring to be the King’s mistress to beating her at cards.

He drew in a breath and tried to center himself. A little wine from the cup of life around the roots of each tree, and the spell would break. For a moment, he considered each tree. Did he make his case now, while they could listen? Or wait? Or just let his actions say everything that needed to be said?

He sighed. This was bad business. But it would have been worse if he’d arrived and found them all cut down. He sheathed his sword and pulled the cup of life from his belt. He knew he wouldn’t be handing it back to his father this time. His father had been surprised when he handed it back after the last time he’d used it. Felan had been shocked his father would hand it over to him so readily. Only the King should use the cup of life. He looked at the relic from another time and saw it as more than a magical object, more than an ancient animal horn. His father trusted him to do the right thing and become the next King of Annwyn. His father would do anything to ensure that happened.

That was why Felan was here and not his father. It was important that he was seen to be these fairies’ savior. He pulled the cork from the small bottle of fairy wine he’d tucked into his waistcoat pocket and filled the drinking horn. Then he walked widdershins around the grove and spilled a little at the base of each tree. The ground immediately sucked up the offering and the branches began to quiver and then lower. He took a step back and watched. A slow smile formed as the bark fell away and the fairies began lifting their feet out of the dirt where they had been rooted for too long.

A few stumbled, their legs unused to movement. Felan helped them up. He poured more wine, and let them drink and heal. They thanked him, not caring who he was, just that they were free. Their clothes were fashions he’d forgotten—the flowing white dress on a pregnant lady; gold-embroidered robe on a man; tight, multicolored hose on another. Some had been here for a very long time. It was a cruel punishment that should never have been allowed to happen.

How had Eyra even learned this magic? And who else knew how to trap a fairy forever? That was something he’d yet to find out. He made a mental note that he needed to see his mother—and possibly Sulia—for a private meeting. His to-do list was getting longer and yet his time was getting shorter.

He checked his watch, well aware Taryn was by the doorway alone, then looked at the gathered fairies—one was little more than a child. Felan pressed his teeth together and wished he had better news for them.

“I’m here to take you back to Annwyn.”

“No, I can’t. The Queen.” The woman in white placed her hand over her stomach and Felan knew immediately what her perceived crime was. His mother had refused to allow her ladies to take lovers or get pregnant after she had been denied the chance to have a second child. As a result, the numbers at Court had been slowly dwindling. The Court of Annwyn had been in decline for longer than he’d realized—or maybe he just hadn’t wanted to see it because he wasn’t ready to take over. He still didn’t feel ready.

“Annwyn is in winter.” He let his word settle like icy flakes of snow.

A few blinked, as if not understanding; others shuddered, as if feeling the chill in their blood. He could feel it in his, an ever-present chill that couldn’t be warmed away.

“The Queen is imprisoned for treason, and while there is the possibility of war, if you remain here, you will face certain death when the power shifts.”

The man in the purple-and-gold robe with sleeves that dragged on the ground folded his arms. “And who are you? Which side are you on?”

“Side?” Felan didn’t want to be standing here discussing a war he wanted to avoid.

“For war there has to be two,” the man insisted. A whisper rustled through the grove as the fairies started talking for the first time in many years. The man caught the edge of the conversation and stiffened as he realized his mistake. “Prince Felan?”

Felan inclined his head.

The man bowed. “I’m sorry, my Prince, I didn’t recognize you. You were knee-high last I saw you.”

That was longer than Felan had expected. Had there been others trapped over the years? If so, what had happened to them?