Prince by Blood and Bone: A Fantasy Romance of the Black Court (Tales of the Black Court) (31 page)

Through the crack in the window she heard Agrona’s grating voice. “What’s in that house?” The woman poked Logan with the point of her sword, twisting it into a gash on his thigh. He screamed. Bryanna clutched Trina’s face to her body, hiding her from the sight of her lover’s body contracting in pain.

Agrona asked again. “What’s so important you’d die to protect it? Tell me, Huntsman.” The sword point pushed in and the sound Logan made was terrible. Trina scrambled to rise, but Bryanna held her shaking body tight.

Finally his screams cut off.

“What happened? He’s too quiet!” Trina pushed up, but Bryanna held her on the stool.

“Hush, it’s okay. He passed out. She’s leaving him alone.” She soothed Trina’s tears and watched Agrona slap Logan’s lolling head. Bryanna had never hated anyone, not even the faery queen, as much as she hated that woman. She wasn’t sure she liked the elf, knew she didn’t trust him, but she loved her cousin. And Trina loved the huntsman.

She had no idea if Logan was still alive, but she’d say anything to keep Trina from running outside and endangering herself and the baby.

Agrona left the unconscious huntsman and moved over to Kian. “Tell me!” Her green skin turned a mottled shade of red and she pulled her fist back and socked Kian in the jaw. His head jerked back into the side of the horse. Then it was Trina’s turn to hang onto Bryanna as Agrona tipped her sword point down and carved into Kian’s abdomen.

Every scream stretched Bryanna’s resolve thinner and thinner until she was ready to seize the too-large sword, rush out of the building, and take on the horde of Brethren and their awful leader. But as Trina clung to her she knew if she did that she would only get captured. Kian, Logan and Solanum had been defeated. What chance did she have against Agrona and her warriors?

None.

She had no choice. She had to stay with Trina and protect her, and the baby, the best she could. If the enemy broke into the black force-field that now encircled the lodge, she’d be the only one left to fight.

“My lady.” A small familiar voice interrupted the sounds of Kian’s screams. “We have the prince. We should go.”

A sick feeling settled in her gut. “That low-down sneaking son of a bitch!”

“Who’s that?” Trina asked. She coughed out smoke and lifted her head as high as she could, pressing her tear-streaked face against the bottom of the window.

“Someone I never thought would stoop this low,” Bryanna said.

She wrapped her arms tight around Trina and held what was left of her family close. Kian had been right about the gnome. She’d been dead wrong.

“Kian was confident the queen wouldn’t find us here, but Agrona found us, and fast. It had to have been him.”

Agrona gave Kian a last slap and mounted up. They all rode out leaving the clearing empty of everything but bodies.

Bryanna sank down into the chair. It was over and she wasn’t sure what to feel.

“They’re gone. We can get Solanum.” Trina rose and grabbed her sword.

“No!” Bryanna lunged, but Trina moved too fast and was up and moving the blanket away from the base of the parlor door. Bryanna picked up her own sword. The weight dragging her arm down, she followed her cousin. Lifting her sleeve to her face, she did the best she could to breathe, and rushed after Trina into the great hall.

“The fire’s out,” Trina said. She ran through the smoky room to the partially collapsed front door. “Help me.”

“No, there might be more out there.” Bryanna nearly made it, but not in time to stop her cousin from wrapping the blanket around her hand and wrenching the still-smoking door open.

Solanum’s bullet-shaped horse head fell into the opening. His black eyes were dulled and cloudy, a flicker of red barely alive in the center. A last troll-kin fell in too, grey-green skin glistening with sweat.

“He’s alive. Watch out!”

The troll-kin bared his teeth, scrambled to his feet, and lifted his sword.

“Bryanna!” Trina widened her legs into a fighter’s stance and raised her sword. Her arm muscles bunched under her t-shirt bracing as the soldier’s sword came down. The sword clanged onto Trina’s blade, bouncing off and pushing her back. Trina re-formed her stance, her face determined, but all that mattered to Bryanna was the bead of sweat forming on her brow.

Trina shouldn’t be fighting anyone, not now.

Bryanna ran behind him, hefted her own sword, and aimed for his head. Her blade hit his shoulder armor and slid off, the drag nearly wrenching her arms out of the sockets. Trina’s sword came down and clanged against the soldier’s and he grunted. Trina, at least, could fight. Bryanna tried again, this time stabbing the blade into the joint under the troll-kin’s arm. The point slid in and stopped. He jerked his attention from Trina and growled. His stunningly elven eyes glowed and she braced her feet and leaned. She put all her weight behind it, and as the point pushed slowly in a spurt of blood gushed, spraying her in the face.

The soldier screamed. He twisted, and tried to turn to face her, but Trina smacked him with her sword. He raised his high, coming in fast for Trina. Bryanna couldn’t take the time to wipe the blood out of her eyes. As he moved, her blade wrenched in her hands, but she hung on, pushing for all she was worth. The soldier’s desperate thrust whished past Trina and she darted in and sliced her blade across his throat.

The soldier flailed, his blood spurted in a high arc splattering crimson freckles across Trina. He fell to the floor, and Bryanna’s blade yanked from her grasp.

Blood pooled out across the shiny wood, creeping toward Bryanna’s toes. She backed up, the taste of bile burning in the back of her throat.

“Oh gross,” she whispered.

She ran over to the fireplace and threw up into the ash bucket. Kneeling on the floor she struggled to breathe past the truth. She’d helped kill someone.

Trina pulled her away and toward the scene at the door. “Come on. You have to help.” Bryanna snuck a look back at the wide, emptying eyes of the troll-kin and her stomach rolled.

“Bryanna, you have to heal him.”

“What? I’m not healing that thing” She hadn’t wanted to kill him, but she couldn’t heal him either. He was dead and while she hated being responsible, she didn’t want him alive either.

“Not that creature, Solanum. He’s hurt. Badly.”

Bryanna shook her head and tried to think past the numbness in her tired arms and the smell of death and vomit. She looked at the puca. Bright red oozed from the wound in his side, spreading across the front porch in a sticky mess. His breathing was shallow and quick and she could see his light was fading.

The weight of everyone’s expectations was suddenly too heavy.

“I can’t help him. He’s too far gone.” She wiped her hand over her face and it came back bloody. She stared at the stain.

Logan and Kian were prisoners of a force of warriors she had no clue how to face. It had taken the two of them to kill this one, how could she and Trina possibly take on any more? Her mother and Cassie were still missing, and now she was responsible for Trina and the unborn baby. Now she’d killed someone. How could she be a healer?

The shaking started small, but soon it quaked through her entire body.

She wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to keep from shattering.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Trina took her by her arms and glared up at her. “Now center and pull that power. You’re the only one here who can do this.”

Bryanna stared at her smaller cousin. “I can’t. You know I can’t.” She failed at healing on small levels, how could she succeed at such a large level. How could she stop the life from leaking out of the enormous hole in his body? She was just one person and she’d already done a lot of magic today.

She backed away from the door, the dying puca, and Trina’s expectant face. “I can’t do this. I can’t heal. I can’t even judge people’s characters.” She’d been wrong so many times.

Trina wrinkled her forehead. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought that slimy Beezel was trying to help me.” She fumbled for the locket and pulled it out of her pants pocket. “The whole time, he was tricking me. Kian wouldn’t have taken anything that Agrona could follow. Stupid me brought this here. I’ve done it again.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“And…I misjudged Kian.” Bryanna looked out a broken window at the muddy grave-site. A ray of late afternoon sun filtered through the trees and illuminated a bright spot of blood on a patch of untouched snow. “He came for me,” she whispered. Pressure built up behind her eyes, but not one tear dropped. “He came, Trina. Despite all those men and that bitch of a fiancée. He’s a prince, and he’s fae. He could have left me here. Could have found someone else to try to break his curse, there are lots of other gypsy witches out there who have more talent, more education.” She stared out the window. “But he came back for
me
.”

And now he was beyond her reach. Taken by Agrona and the Brethren.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Kian let his bloodstained plaid drop to the floor. He stretched trembling fingers into the dying light streaming through the tiny, barred window of the tower room. A surge of thankfulness so profound he had no words flooded him, and he dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

Night had fallen again and he was a man, not a beast.

Bryanna’s cure had been strong enough to last past the three days of the full moon. If only he could make it last beyond the sunrise and get back full use of his Gift. When he had his magic, he would take his revenge on his mother, Agrona, and anyone who had placed him in this tower and stolen away his life.

He flexed his torn shoulder and examined the deep cut in his thigh and the mostly-healed slashes along his stomach. The bleeding had stopped. The Brethren had some minor healing powers, but unless the queen brought in a better healer, both wounds would give him trouble for a few weeks.

Agrona pushed open the chamber door and strode in. “Busy in here.”

He wasn’t shy, but her possessive visual tour up and down his nude body made him feel unclean. He picked up the discarded plaid and refitted it to his body, ignoring her smirk and the aching of his wounds.

“Anxious for the wedding night, I see.” She held the door open and two soldiers hauled a wide, tin tub into the room. “I prefer my men with less battle sweat, but I do like the blood.” Her tongue licked out across her upper lip, and she grinned.

“Forget it.”

“Too bad.” She came closer and ran a finger along the edge of the plaid just below one of the cuts in his stomach. He flinched and her grin widened. He grabbed her wrist and forced her back.

She resisted, something greedy flickered in her eyes and he let her go, reluctant to touch her any longer and accidentally stimulate her hunger.

“You’ll be begging me for it soon, my prince, I can wait.” Giving him a lewd wink she crossed over to the window, and looked down at the shadowed courtyard.

“You have nothing I want now, Agrona. Look at me.” He held his miraculous hands out, spreading his fingers wide. “I’m almost freed from my curse.”

She turned and faced him. “It doesn’t matter what you want anymore, prince-ling. The queen won’t wait for your co-operation any longer. She’s realized she needs a better way to control you. And I’m it.” She waved a hand at the soldiers. “Wait outside.”

The men exited, leaving them alone.

“Tonight, my love, you’ll be fitted for your wedding garb.” Agrona crooned. “Tomorrow, when the sun sets, we’ll be married. And I’ll finally be a true Princess of the Black Court.”

“That will never happen. Even if you force me to marry you, you need my consent for your Gift to work, and I’m no willing groom for you to suck dry.”

“Oh, I think you’ll change your mind.” She stepped closer. Her voice dropped low, her words chilling him more than the cold night air blowing through the bars. “You see, I have Logan Ni Brennan in my dungeon, and your mother, the queen, is aching to get her claws into him. And maybe a few other, um, devices.” Agrona winked and Kian’s stomach twisted. “It seems she’s very angry with him. Logan’s been a naughty boy, he disobeyed Her Majesty. She’s coming, not just for the wedding, but for the opportunity to see him punished.”

Kian’s bravado gushed out of him, leaving him deflated and nauseous. His mother’s ideas of punishment did not involve anything as benevolent as mercy.

“See,” Agrona said. “You might be more willing than you think. Now, I can tell her majesty that you are unwilling to fully give yourself over to me, or you can marry me, let me feed on you, and I’ll ‘let’ Logan escape.” She smiled too close and her hot, cloved breath blew into his face.

He forced himself to face her and not flinch away from her obvious pleasure in his fate.

“Of course, for him to escape, I’ll want your full cooperation.” She brushed wet lips against his ear. “Husband,” she whispered.

He shoved his revulsion down. “Logan has powerful friends, Agrona. The Seven Brothers of the Fir Bolg will hunt down any who threaten their kin. And it’s not just him. Now that my mother’s shield is no longer hiding me, my friends will be looking for me. Logan found me, others will too. I’ve passed on your suspicions of my parentage. The Seven will enlist the man you think is my father. And when that happens, no one will be safe.” He prayed she didn’t notice the slight tremor in the words ‘my father’ or the fact that he still didn’t know whom she suspected was his true parent.