The Iron Locket (The Risen King) (23 page)

Titania's son lay crumpled on the grass, his knees pulled up to his stomach, a hand pressed weakly against his chest. His entire body was on fire, the iron from Aiofe's blade coursing through his veins. He had left it in too long and the special iron-coated weapons the hunters used were designed to inflict maximum damage in a minimum amount of time. The faery groaned, trying to make his body respond to his commands. His fingers twitched as he reached an arm out across the grass, one goal left in his waning life.

“Aiofe,” he whispered as he forced his eyes to open. A pair of boots stood in front of him a mere inch from his fingers, the worn leather wrapped around thin calves. He blinked rapidly, and stretched a single digit, stroking the boot. “Aiofe?” The word was inaudible, his lips barely moved.

One of the boots left the grass, coming toward him with the speed of a snail, angling toward his face. He stared at it, his mind screaming for him to move, but he couldn't. All he could do was watch. The sole connected with his shoulder. He felt no pain, but he was incapable of resisting when the boot pushed, rolling him over on this back. The hand pressed against his chest flopped away and blood seeped down his side to pool beneath him.

A head entered his vision, a young woman with her blond locks pulled back into a ragged ponytail. She was upside down. No wonder her blue eyes looked so angry. He wouldn't like to be upside down either. A thought nibbled at the edge of his remaining sanity, poking at him and whispering for him to remember.

“Zela,” he whispered, this time loud enough for her to hear. “My... my sister.” He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.

He felt his head move and when he looked up again, the face was closer. He could feel her leg beneath him and a hand pressed tightly against the wound in his chest.

“My brother,” she said, a faint smile darting across her lips. It was replaced with a scowl the next moment. “What have you done?” she scolded, bitterness in her tone. “Why...” She stopped and sighed, a growl escaping her throat.

“I..” Kane paused, trying to collect his scattered thoughts. “Aiofe?” he tried again.

Her face hardened and the hand left his chest. "She is beyond your reach, Kane. You will not hurt her again." Zela made to stand up, dropping Kane's head onto the hard ground with a jarring thud.

He grunted and closed his eyes, but his bloody hand reached up, grabbing his sister's pant leg with what little strength he could muster. "No, please," he breathed. "Is she... alive? Please." His last word was punctuated by the tears that began rolling from his eyes, blurring his vision.

Zela stopped turning and stared at him, her eyes belying her tight lips. She knelt beside him, her fingers reaching out to touch his face but stopping just shy of his skin. "Why do you want to know?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

"My... my daughter." The public admission floated from him, freeing him from years of self-doubt, pain, and hatred. His heart beat faster, his breath came easier. "Please," he said again, meeting Zela's wide blue eyes with his own.

"But you tried to kill her," she spat.

"No, he didn't." Another voice joined hers, followed by a white-bearded face. It stared at Kane with pity and understanding. "He came to help us. He wanted to save her."

Zela's brow puckered with doubt as she looked at the old man.

"Grandad? What's going on?" A soft voice echoed from somewhere outside of Kane's vision. He tried to turn his head toward the sweet sound, but his neck wouldn't cooperate.

The old man held out a hand. "Aiofe, come here."

The walls around Kane's heart crumbled completely when the red locks came into view, and his soul cried out in despair when he saw the look of pure hatred on her face. She spat at him, the glob of saliva landing on his forehead.

"Aiofe!" Zela stared at the girl with disbelief even as she knelt down to wipe the spit from Kane's face. "That was unnecessary."

Aiofe glared at the other woman. "He killed my mother!" Her voice was shrill and cracked on the word mother.

"No!" Kane's throat hurt as the word ripped from his lungs. He gasped and inhaled several ragged breaths with his eyes closed. When he opened them again, Aiofe was glaring at him, her arms crossed,waiting for him to continue.

He opened his mouth, his lips moving silently for a moment. "I... I cared for her," he said, finally. "I could never... She was my life. The moment I saw her..." He felt the muscles in his face move in a strange pattern. A smile, a real smile. He laughed softly. The last time he smiled was the last day he was with Aiofe, when she was four years old and playing tag with her mother.

Kane looked at the young woman now kneeling beside him. "When you were born..." He reached his bloodied hand up, his fingers grasping at the air. When his daughter took it in hers, tears sprang once more to his eyes. "I should have stayed with you. I should have faced up to Lea. I should not have abandoned you."

Aiofe's face was puckered into a reluctant glare, but her hand gripped his tightly. "But they said you killed her. Why would you do that if you cared for us?" The girl stared at him hard as she tried to come to terms with her new reality.

Kane shook his head, the movement making his brain foggy. "No," he whispered. "I loved her, Aiofe. More than anything. I tried to protect you...both of you. I failed. You suffered...because of me. I hurt you. I am sorry. Please forgive me."

As the last words left Kane's mouth, his chest contracted, pain ripping through his lungs and rippling out through his body. His fingers tightened around Aiofe's as he gasped frantically for breath, but his lungs would not accept the air. His eyes rolled and he fought against them, trying to stay focused on the red hair and green eyes that were all that was left of the world he had once loved.

"Kane!" Zela cried as he seized up, his back arching.

Her hand gripped his shoulder and his mind clung to the pain. He used it as an anchor, pulling him back from the chaos raging through his head. His eyes stopped rolling and focused briefly on Aiofe's face. He smiled again, noticing for the first time how different she really was from her mother. Her pale freckles were clustered around her nose and cheeks where her mother's were scattered evenly all over her face.

"Aiofe, my daughter.” His free hand reached over, brushing a fat tear from her cheek. When his skin touched hers, her features blurred and split. Another face appeared beside his daughter's. Mother and daughter, together once more.

Caena smiled at Kane and held out her hand. She beckoned to him. Kane's smile brightened and his body felt lighter. He rose, his fingers slipping easily through Caena's. He brushed her cheek and tilted his head toward hers. Their lips met, sparks sizzling across their skin. He pulled back, gazing into her emerald eyes. Her grin grew and she stepped away, tugging at his hand gently as she nodded toward the woods.

*~*~*

Aiofe stared at the blond man laying on the ground. His smile was wide, his hand still gripping hers, but his eyes no longer focused on anything. His breathing was shallow, coming in small gasps. She shook him gently, her heart refusing to beat as she silently begged him to stay.

She raised her head, her eyes pleading with Zela. The faery knelt beside her brother and placed two fingers on his throat. “He is still alive. I must get him to our mother.” With Percival's help, Zela mounted her horse and cradled Kane on her lap. “I will see you at the castle later,” she said as she spurred her horse into gear and disappeared into the woods.

“He will be alright,” Arthur said as he stroked Aiofe's brow, brushing hair out of her face.

She shook her head fiercely as she stared after the disappearing faeries. “He was my father,” she whispered. “For so long, I wondered who it was, thinking it was another hunter, but it was a faery. I'm part faery. And now he could die because of me.”

Maureen wrapped an arm around her granddaughter. She leaned over and pressed her lips to Aiofe's temple. “He'll be alright. Titania will see to that. All this time, we believed he had killed her, when he really just loved her. And he saved us. Without him, we would be dead.”

Aiofe looked up at her, not wanting to believe her grandmother's claims, but her scowl faded nonetheless. A loud crash broke the moment. The house was caving in, flames licking every available surface. As they watched, her grandfather emerged from the garage, his face covered in soot, but no worse for the wear. He had a pack slung over his shoulder and his witch's blade in one hand.

Aiofe and Arthur stood as he approached, Arthur wrapping his arms around Aiofe's waist, pulling her in close. Aloysius mimicked the gesture with Maureen after sliding the blade into its sheath, and Percival joined them on the other side. Silently, they watched the house burn until it was nothing but a pile of wood.

Maureen's face was streaked with tears. “We're homeless,” she whispered.

Aiofe reached out and gripped her grandmother's hand, words failing her.

“No, you are not.” Arthur's breath tickled Aiofe's ear. “You will come with us,” he said. “We will find a place for you at the castle.”

Percival nodded. “There are a few unused houses in the servants' area. We can have one fixed up. They are really quite cozy. It will not be the same, but it will be something for now. You cannot stay here.”

Fifteen minutes later, the group was mounted and riding through the woods. Maureen and Alo shared Kay's horse. Kay was draped over the back of Percival's, covered with a cloth Zela had pulled from her pack. They walked slowly in a morbid funeral procession, taking Kay home for the final time.

*~*~*

TWENTY-SEVEN

*~*~*

At Arthur's command, a funeral pyre was built in the middle of the courtyard between the castle and stables. The queens had made them swear that should any of their number die, he would be burned instead of buried. "A dead body can be used for many awful things," Titania had said, her nose curling in disgust.

Arthur carried Kay up to the man's room and laid him out on the bed as the knight's personal servant came in. The young faery's face was pulled into a frown as he set about cleaning the knight up and dressing him in burial garb. Arthur stepped outside into the hall after watching for a moment. Gasping for breath, he leaned against the wall and buried his hands in his face.

"He died as a true knight," a voice said beside him. As Arthur sank to the floor, Lancelot moved with him, wrapping an arm around his friend's shoulder. "He fulfilled his promise to you, giving his life for the woman you love. He protected her at all costs." The knight paused, his head down. "I am sorry I ever doubted his loyalty."

Arthur sniffled and gave Lancelot a sad smile. "If I am honest with myself, I doubted his loyalty, too. He was so stubborn and his behavior so brash, sometimes I could not be sure he would be there in the time of greatest need." His face fell, but the tears ended. "I did not trust my brother until he gave his life for me. What kind of a man am I?"

Lancelot squeezed the king's shoulder. "A brave one, a strong one. You are a leader beyond compare." Lancelot stood and held out his hand. "Come, we must prepare for the ceremony."

Arthur took the offered hand and let Lancelot hoist him to his feet. After leaving Lancelot at his own door, Arthur plodded up the stairs to his room. Aiofe was not there. She was down in the dining hall with her grandparents, helping the servants prepare the customary feast in honor of the fallen knight. As the door shut behind the knight, Rogan appeared from behind the curtain.

"Welcome back, my lord." He bowed, his face solemn. "I am terribly sorry for your loss."

Arthur nodded once at the man. "Thank you, Rogan. I must prepare. Do you have my clothes ready?"

"Yes, your highness." He stepped back behind the curtain and Arthur followed. His clothes were laid out on the bed and he stepped over to examine them. Red and gold, his favorite colors, with silver and black embroidery displaying is crest on the back of the long cloak.

As Rogan helped him dress, he glanced around the room. It had changed in the last couple days. While it had always been beautiful, it now had a feminine air to it. At first he could not explain the feeling, but then he noticed the vase with the little yellow flowers on the table, the brush and mirror on the dresser by the spare armoire, the dressing gown hanging from the changing screen. A dress was draped across the back of a chair, too. He stepped away from Rogan and went to examine it. The colors matched his perfectly, but instead of the crest, a small bow was embroidered over the heart and a dazzling display of suns and moons danced along the neckline. He reached out and brushed the fabric.

"Lilia took the liberty of ordering some more clothing for Miss Aiofe, sire. I hope you do not mind. Since she will be here while..." He trailed off, letting Arthur's mind fill in the blanks.

"No, no, it is fine," Arthur said, turning away from the dress. "She cannot go to the ceremony wearing her riding gear, can she?"

"No, sire, she cannot." Rogan smiled and finished dressing Arthur.

When he was finished, the knight surveyed himself in the mirror, nodding with satisfaction. He grabbed his sword off the table and strapped it around his waist, then started toward the door.