The Iron Locket (The Risen King) (16 page)

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SEVENTEEN

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"Is she awake yet?"

Rogan looked up as Arthur came into the room, speaking before he had even rounded the curtain. He had not seen his master wound so tightly in all the time he had been in the castle, but the girl seemed to do something to him.

"No, sir. She still sleeps. Princess Zela gave her a sedative to keep her as still as possible so the poison does not move too quickly through her body. The banewolves were a different breed than the general has seen, likely bred for their poison by the Leanansidhe. She has summoned the Queens to aid us."

Rogan bowed his head as he patted the young woman's brow with a wet cloth. She was pale, her white skin contrasting sharply with her red hair. It fell around her head like a halo, but matted against her forehead where the sweat gathered. Her breathing was ragged and shallow, but consistent.

Rogan raised his gaze to his master. The knight knelt on the opposite side of the chaise the girl was laid upon, his hand hovering just above her limp fingers as if he wanted to squeeze them tightly and beg her to hold onto life with a death grip, but feared a mere touch would send her plummeting into the depths of darkness, never to return. His eyebrows were knit close together, making the skin on his forehead lose all color. His lips were so compressed they caused his nose to wrinkle.

"Sir?"

Arthur jumped at Rogan's voice, his eyes wide like a frightened child. It only lasted a moment before he straightened and composed himself, once again becoming the king Rogan was familiar with. "Yes?" His voice belied his composure, cracking with even the most simple syllable.

Rogan turned his gaze away from the knight as the younger man's cheeks grew a little pink. Instead, he busied himself with straightening the blanket laid over the girl's legs, despite her high body temperature. He was silent a moment, watching her still face.

"Who is she, sir?" His normally quiet voice was barely a whisper. This girl was different; that was all he knew.

Arthur didn't answer and Rogan feared that he had offended his master somehow. He raised his head, an apology on his lips, but the knight was not looking at him. His eyes were locked on the girl, the fear from before back on his face, uninhibited. The blond man shook his head.

"I do not know," he said finally. "Her name is Aiofe." Reaching a hand out, he brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, his finger barely grazing her skin. "Zela called her a hunter, but I do not know what that means."

Rogan sat back, unable to mask his shock. "A hunter?" His surprise bled into his voice and pulled Arthur from his reverie.

The knight narrowed his eyes at his servant. "You know what that is?"

Rogan gave him a hesitant nod, unsure how much information he was supposed to share with the human. "Yes, sir, I do."

Arthur looked at him expectantly, raising an eyebrow in annoyance when Rogan did not respond immediately. "Well?"

Rogan cleared his throat and sat back. Slowly, he reached over and dipped the cloth he held into the bowl of water on the table by his side. He twisted it carefully, draining the excess water from it, then leaned over and resumed patting down the girl's forehead.

"A hunter is..." He stopped, faltering on the words. Describing a hunter's job was simple, but very complex. How do you explain to an outsider that your queen hired someone to track down and slaughter your own kind.

"A hunter is an essential member of our army."

With both relief and apprehension, Rogan sat back, turning his attention to the new voice. The tall blond woman standing in the doorway wore riding gear of all leather. He stood up, dropping the cloth into the bowl as he bowed at the same time, stepping backward and away from the chair with his head low, his eyes on the carpet at his feet.

"Your highness," he mumbled as she strode across the room and settled into the chair he vacated.

"Rogan." She turned and looked at him, throwing him a brief but sincere smile before turning to appraise the young woman. "A hunter," she said, once again addressing Arthur, "is someone in my employ, hired to hunt down and eliminate the rabble that escapes through our doors and seeks to harm the human world. Long ago, I trained the first hunter, a young woman with a fierce heart and a deadly bow. She became my ally in her world, going where I could not, accomplishing things beyond my expectations. Over the years, their ranks have grown, spreading across the world. They have become an important part of both worlds, stemming the tide of destruction from flowing between the void. If not for the hunters, the humans would be in great peril from my people. They are vital tools."

Rogan stood by the window, shocked at the way Arthur stared at the queen, as if they were equals. She met the stare without flinching, a small smirk playing almost imperceptibly at the corners of her lips. She was testing the knight, pushing gentle buttons to see how he would react.

"Why is she here," the young knight asked after several long, strained seconds, choosing in the end to ignore her slight against his race.

Titania turned her gaze back to the girl. "I do not know," she said as she leaned forward to press two elegant fingers against the faint pulse in the pale throat. They trailed delicately down her neck to push back a few stray strands of hair, then found her forehead to do the same. Her eyes never left the woman's face. "Zela said she was chasing a sprite." She trailed off, lost in thought. The next words came out in a whisper, not meant for anyone but the unconscious hunter. "You look just like your mother, my child. So much like her." The fingers found a small divot in the skin near one corner of her lips. "And yet he is still there, hiding."

Titania sat back quickly, clearing her throat and straightening her shoulders, brushing off the momentary vulnerability. She raised her eyes to Arthur’s. They were hard and unyielding, telling him without words that anything they shared there at that moment was in absolute confidentiality. "She is my granddaughter."

Rogan leaned against the window sill, his body feeling as if it were tossed there by a large explosion. The queen had a human granddaughter?

Titania leaned forward once more, her eyes still on the knight, but her words were meant for both of them. "My son had an elicit affair many years ago, before he betrayed me completely. To my dismay, it was with the daughter of one of my greatest hunters. She was young, barely seventeen at the time they met, well trained as a hunter, but foolish in the ways of love, as all girls her age are. Her parents were unaware of the affair, believing the lie the girl told them about an illicit love affair with another hunter. They were very angry, so angry they almost left. When a child was born nine months later, her deception was almost revealed, but my son covered it up, thinking he was protecting them both. But he could not hide the truth from me. I can feel when someone of my own blood is brought into this world. I knew the moment the child started to grow in her mother's belly."

She paused and stared at the young woman lying on the chaise, regret heavy on her face. "I was foolish," she said, no longer speaking to the men, but to her granddaughter. "I thought Kane's love would protect you and your mother. I thought your mother had turned him from the dark path he had been walking down, bringing him back to me." A sad smile crept across her lips. "I was right, for awhile."

The smile faded and her eyes rose to meet Arthur's. "Where I went wrong was underestimating that witch, Leanansidhe. For four years, my son managed to keep his new family a secret, from both those in Faery and her own parents. They did not know she was meeting him in private, allowing him to be part of his child's life, teaching her to be both human and faery."

A terrible pain knit her brow as the next words flowed from her mouth like water pouring from a broken damn that had been cracked for far too long.

"They were waiting for Kane the day Leanansidhe showed up. It's not the first time she went after Caena. She has been trying to wipe out the line of The First since I created them. She nearly killed Caena as a baby, but I was able to stop her. This time I was not fast enough. Caena pulled a knife, and it was all the provocation Lea needed."

Titania stood, pacing in a small circle as she continued to speak. "You must be careful with that woman, with Lea. She has the ability to pull power from other faeries, to draw it into her for a short time. It kills them, but that is no matter to her. Few faeries hold any significance to her other than as tools. She must have done just that the night she killed Caena. I was powerless to stop her. Caena was dead before I could reach her. Lea ran when she saw me. She wasn't even brave enough to face me. She just left Aiofe crying over her mother's cooling body.”

She stopped her pacing and looked to Arthur. Her cheeks were stained with tears and her eyes were bloodshot. "What could I do?" she asked, shrugging gently. "I led the girl through the woods, helping her leave an obvious trail back to her mother. When she was near enough to the house, I used my powers to magnify her cries, causing them to reach her grandparents. Her grandfather followed the trail through the woods, but by the time he arrived, Kane was there. My son held the knife in his hand, covered in Aiofe's blood. His face was streaked with tears for her death, but through his anger, Alo couldn't see that. He nearly killed my son. Maybe he should have..."

"They need to know the truth." Arthur's voice was soft and prodding.

Titania smiled at him. "It is not my story to tell, young man. It is for Kane alone."

Arthur frowned. "But that is not fair to Aiofe. What if he never tells her?"

"She will know. Faery blood does not stay silent. Already she is feeling its pull. Faeries are connected through the blood. We can feel each others emotions and if we do not block them, they can be overwhelming. She has been struggling. Her father's anger is strong and she does not understand that it isn't hers."

A soft groan echoed from the chaise and both of them turned to look at the woman lying upon it. Her eyes fluttered momentarily and her head moved a fraction to one side, but she did not stir. Titania returned to the chair, drawing a small bottle filled with vibrant purple liquid from a hidden pocket. The light shining in through the window pierced the glass, sending a rainbow of violet-tinted colors dancing across the room. Placing the injured arm on a towel, Titania uncapped the bottle and tilted it, allowing tiny drops to fall into the rent flesh. The liquid bubbled in the wound, sizzling audibly before darting into the skin.

Aiofe moaned, her arm jerking in miniature spasms until Titania clamped a fist around it, holding it tight. Rogan watched as the veins under the surface of the skin bulged visibly, flaring brightly like the skin on a hand cupped around a flame.

"Hold her." The queen's voice was calm, but her jaw was clenched as she gave Arthur the command to stabilize the thrashing young woman. Rogan stood at the head of the chaise, his hands clenching in rapid fits, a feeling of utter helplessness raging through him. More liquid dripped into the wound, leading to more sizzling and more thrashing. As the last drop tipped from the bottle, falling at a snail's pace to accost the boiling injury, Aiofe bucked against her captors, her back arching and her head tilting backward. Then a scream ripped through the room.

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EIGHTEEN

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Arthur grunted as he flew threw the air and landed heavily on the other side of his chair. With some effort, he disentangled himself from the cracked wood and cupped his hands to his ears as he looked around.

Titania was standing over Aiofe, her arms out to her sides as an odd smoke poured from the girl's mouth with a horrific howl. Two colors mingled together, dancing in a strange and violent pattern, one light, one dark, colors Arthur could only describe to himself as life and death.

The queen was chanting in a tongue the knight could not understand. Her eyes were open, but they were glazed over with concentration. In one hand she held the now empty bottle; in the other was its matching cap. As her voice rose to pitched heights, the smoke spun through the air into a cyclone around her, whipping her blond hair so violently that strands tore from her head and joined the fray.

As the last bits of smoke left Aiofe's mouth, the young woman collapsed unmoving. Arthur moved toward her but was thrown back by the force of the gale wind that now encompassed Titania. The screeching had stopped, instead turning into the loud unceasing roar of a crashing waterfall. The queen continued to chant, standing firm amid the chaos.

Slowly, the colors began to separate. Light moved away from dark, peeling itself away slowly and with visible effort. It created its own small cyclone over Aiofe and its presence created a barrier that protected Arthur from the assault of the dark smoke. He was able to stand up enough to crawl over to Aiofe's side. He gripped her arm and felt her wrist. It was silent. No blood pulsed through her veins. His heart began thumping in earnest, his own blood rushing to his ears to deafen him.

He looked up from Aiofe's face in time to see the last of the dark smoke sliding into the bottle. Titania slapped the cap on tightly and as she did, the raging wind died immediately. With her free hand, the queen pointed at the light smoke and bobbed her finger once. A small thread broke out of the mini tornado and darted toward Aiofe. It slipped in through the small gap between her lips, like a piece of string threading a needle. As the last little wisp lingered on her red lips, Aiofe gasped, sucking it in. Her breathing was quick, but she was breathing once more. The pulse under Arthur's fingers raced to life, the blood speeding through her body to make up for lost time.