The Raven Chronicles

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

INISFAIL COURT

FECHIN

From his place at the table, Fechin watched out for Shisti. Not seeing her at dinner surprised him. The two of them had long since stopped keeping a pretense of civility between them. He dined alone or with courtiers while she dined in her rooms. But he'd been sure Shisti would hear about Azar and some dramatics would ensue.

He'd broken their bargain. She was free to murder again, and he had the sinking sensation the witch planned to start with Azar. His magic was strongest here in the palace. Shisti was powerful, but he could trap her behind some wards. She would escape eventually, but once Azar gave birth to his heir, he would come into his full power as king. Then he could banish Shisti from court forever.

Azar chatted with the Elf, Selkie, and Trow around her, as at ease and friendly with them as she was standoffish with him. The Brownies had fallen in love with her from the moment they'd met her, much like he had. Despite her ire with him, she'd been only kind to them.

Kidnapping her wasn't the best start to their relationship, but he was as much a prisoner of circumstances as she was in Inisfail. The idea of siring his heirs with anyone else didn't appeal. She was his choice.

As the meal progressed, Azar lost some of her icy demeanor toward him, even accepting a bite of food from his plate. In addition to dressing in clothes he'd picked for her, those were the first signs of a thaw from her, and he cherished them. Now they could build a genuine relationship between them.

After the dessert course, he leaned toward her. "I'd like to show you a place special to me. Will you come?" Azar nodded and put her hand in his.

She looked much happier. A glow to her skin and a sparkle in her eyes. He had doubts about bringing her in public with the dangers all around her, but it had been the right thing to do.

He led her through acres of gardens to a door at the base of the ravens' tower. She was breathless when they arrived at the top of the steps.

He opened the door and held it for her. She scooted past him into the room.

"Ravens." She gave him a genuine smile -- the first since he'd brought her to Inisfail Fae territory.

"I know you like birds. The ravens live here. The largest one is called Mischief, and this is Tricks. The tower is off-limits to everyone but me, and now you."

Azar moved easily among them, and the birds accepted her attentions, fluffing their feathers and holding out their wings, bumping each other to get more caresses. Fechin could relate. What he wouldn't give for her to touch him as freely.

A brownie entered the tower room, gave Azar a bashful smile as he waved.

"Hello, Smiley. You look nice in your uniform."

He'd even combed his hair. The little man's wizened cheeks flushed at Azar's compliments.

"Your Highness, the Merrow and the Selkie have been waiting for an audience. But you've been busy, and they say they won't wait anymore. If you won't see them, they'll go to war."

Fechin closed his eyes and searched for patience, blowing out a breath. He had to deal with this now. "I must attend to a small matter that cannot wait. Stay here until I return for you." She should be happy enough among the birds. Hopefully, this wouldn't take long and they could return to a pleasant evening.

He changed to his raven form and leapt out the window. Flight was the quickest way to the throne room. When he arrived, two men were toe to toe, angry faces a scant inch from one another as they yelled.

The Merrow had long hair in shades of green, and the Selkie had sable coloring. Both were red-faced from yelling.

"Your rapist son stole my daughter's pelt and kidnapped her!" the Selkie shouted.

"Your whore of a daughter seduced my son." the Merrow bellowed in return. "You whores steal our people like you stole our land!"

"We stole nothing! We've tried to live in peace. If you don't like us so close, you're welcome to slaughter the satyrs. We had to leave our territory! They were selling us into slavery!"

Fechin resisted the urge to knock their skulls together. "Where are this Merrow son and Selkie daughter now?"

"Gone." the Selkie snarled. "I've just received word of my daughter's kidnapping."

The Merrow snorted. "No one had to kidnap her! I've seen her mooning over my son."

"Enough!" Fechin paced. It sounded like the son and daughter had run off together. It was an excellent plan -- one he wished he could duplicate with Azar.

Fortunately, the Merrow and Selkie were both Seelie, and would listen to him. "If they've gone missing recently, they can't have gone far. I'll alert my army to find them, and bring them to me." While he said the right words to appease the angry fathers, he hoped the couple had covered their tracks well enough to remain hidden.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

INISFAIL COURT

AZAR

I must attend to a small matter that cannot wait. Stay here until I return for you.

Azar bristled as she repeated the words in a mocking falsetto. Her prison had expanded, but it was still a prison.

She pressed her hand to each window in turn, fingers coming into contact with the invisible barrier that kept her inside. This was an opportunity, though, and she wouldn't waste it. She needed to know where to go when a chance presented itself. Surely not every exit was blocked to her.

Would these birds talk to her like the ones at home? "Will you show me what you've seen?" The largest bird, Mischief, hopped to her.

Azar closed her eyes. Images of a vast forest filled her mind as the raven swooped after a headless man riding a horse. The raven cackled a sound a lot like laughter as the man swing a whip made of bones at her.

"You think that's funny, do you?" The man's head, cradled in the crook of one of his arms, glared at the raven.

One by one, more birds shared their memories of the landscapes they flew over. No desert oasis. Where had Fechin brought her? She'd never make it home on foot if it was too far for a bird to fly.

New anger at Fechin sent heat through her blood.

Heedless of his orders to stay put, Azar left the birds, her temporary newfound acceptance of her circumstances vanishing.

He'd brought her so far away.

He'd never let her go.

And now she couldn't find her way home.

At the bottom of the steps, she held a hand to the door, elated when the expected barrier wasn't there. She entered the garden, wandering through the green trees, and black and red flowers. Her path meandered, taking her by several fountains and a pond with a wooden bridge spanning its width.

Azar sat on a bench in front of the pond, reluctant to return inside. The gardens weren't a forest, but seeing the open sky overhead and the trees around her made her feel less of a prisoner.

She kicked off the uncomfortable shoes, drew her legs to her chest, and rested her chin on her knees.

"May I join you?"

Azar jerked her head up. A woman with silvery hair, grey eyes, and a blue hue to her skin stood next to the bench. "You're beautiful. Like you're made from stars."

She flushed as the woman stiffened. Had she said the wrong thing? This lady in front of her carried herself with confidence. She wouldn't have to wonder how to put on any of the gowns in Azar's closet, or how to make her hair elegant. She felt like a simpleton next to this woman's sophistication.

Abruptly, Azar realized she hadn't answered the woman's question and indicated the bench. "I apologize if I offended you. Please sit down. I'm Azar."

"My name is Shisti." The woman sank gracefully onto the bench.

Dinner was nice, but full of men who simpered and were probably only nice to her because they wanted to impress Fechin. This was Azar's chance to make an actual friend.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

INISFAIL COURT

SHISTI

Shisti sat next to Fechin's whore. Could anyone really be so guileless and naïve, or was this an act? "I was walking through the gardens and saw you looking so sad that I had to stop. This castle can be so dreary. Sometimes I come to the gardens because a bit of color can be just the thing to cheer up the day."

"I'm afraid I can't appreciate the beauty of any cage," Azar muttered.

"A cage?" Shisti could relate to the sentiment. This place was a cage to her, too.

"I probably shouldn't talk about it." Azar ducked her head.

"Do you really want to leave?"

Azar nodded, looked around, and leaned closer. "Do you know how I can leave this place? I need to get home."

"Where is your home?"

"In Aribi. We have a house in an oasis."

There was no desert oasis in Inisfail Fae territory, as far as she knew, and the only Aribi she'd heard of was far from Inisfail. How had Fechin gone there and returned so quickly? She'd been out of contact for a few days, but not nearly long enough for a trip across continents and oceans and back.

She sent her magic out, pushing against the wards that surrounded Inisfail. Before, there had always been a solid push back. A sort of bounce that repelled her. Now she could press right up against it, and the texture wasn't smooth. There were cracks. Had Fechin found a big enough fracture to leave and return?

"It's just that my father isn't well.," Azar was babbling. "He needs me."

It shouldn't matter why Azar wanted to leave, just that she did. But the way she spoke about her father reminded Shisti of her mother. "If you really want to go, I can help you."

"You can? We just met, and you would do that for me?"

Trusting. This woman was too trusting. She'd be killed in no time.

The delicious irony of the woman Fechin loved not wanting to be with him after all the arrogant bastard had made Shisti endure fed an icy sensation in her heart. "Of course. No woman should have to be stuck with a brute she doesn't want."

That much was true. Shisti longed for her mother's court, where the men were little more than food to be played with. Except for one, who'd never seen her as something to breed or use. One who'd died because he'd dared to love her.

Azar threw herself into Shisti's arms. "It would be different if he'd spoken to me first, but he just... he just took me. And now he says I have to stay."

Taken by surprise, Shisti froze as Azar hugged her, then remembered she was playing a part and patted Azar's back. "Fechin thinks of himself as king entitled to everything. He doesn't consider what anyone else wants. Of course I'll help you regain your freedom."

Pulling back, Azar sighed. "I've tried the doors and windows. There's some sort of block on them that I can't get through."

"Those are wards created by blood magic. They control who can come and go. If you give me some of your blood, I can adjust the magic so you can get through them."

"You can do that? Does Fechin know?"

"No." Shisti smiled at the girl. "I assure you, Fechin has no idea of what I'm capable of."

But he would.

"All right. I don't want to get you in trouble."

"It's my pleasure and no trouble at all." Shisti drew her ritual knife from a fold in her dress. "All I need is some of your blood. The magic is old and powerful, so it may take a few attempts."

Azar held out her palm. "I understand. Do it." She winced as the sharp blade cut into her palm.

Shisti guided Azar's blood into a few vials, whispering a healing spell when she had enough.

Holding up her hand, Azar stared at her unblemished skin."That's amazing."

Although Shisti hadn't done it to be nice, she let Azar hold that belief. It wasn't benevolence, just something to make sure Fechin didn't know Shisti had the blood of his woman.

"I'll get to work on a way out for you immediately. The wards can be complicated, so play along for now. Then, when Fechin least expects it, you'll be free. I promise."

"Thank you, Shisti." Azar threw her arms around Shisti's neck again. "You're my only friend here. I'm so glad we met tonight."

"I am glad to have met you, too."

Leaving Azar in the garden, Shisti made her way toward her rooms. Waving a hand at her door, she unlocked it and pushed it open.

The moment she'd been waiting for.

She brought a drop of Azar's blood to her tongue. She hadn't felt magic on the girl, but her blood burned with the taste of it. And life. So much life.

Three lives.

Fechin had already bred Azar, and she carried twins.

Shisti smiled, a sense of genuine happiness making her feel light. For the first time since she'd been sent to this heap of stone, joy bloomed in her heart. With the blood of Azar and the babes who carried Fechin's blood as well, she could curse not only Azar, but Fechin and all his bloodline forever.

Moon-Clad once more, Shisti knelt in front of the fire.

She emptied one vial of Azar's blood into her scrying bowl. Better to save the rest. With a quick slash of her wrist, she added her blood to Azar's and chanted the words to access her magic.

Infusing her will into her words and the blood mixture, Shisti conjured her curse.

"With my blood, I curse yours to know only short lives filled with pain. Joy will turn bitter, and to know love means death."

The bowl heated as the blood bubbled and absorbed the magic. Dark red smoke rose into the air and dissipated with a pop.

Shisti swayed on her knees as the magic necessary to enact her curse drained from her, leaving her at an unexpected, dangerously low level. Gasping, she braced herself on her hands and knees, panting through the dizziness making her vision swim.

She needed to replenish her energy. Fortunately, she knew where to get almost unlimited sex magic, even if it was with Vilkos. Leaving herself vulnerable was not an option.

Warmth spread through her, starting in her womb. The magic, given freely, rejuvenated Shisti's flagging levels, and for the second time tonight, she felt happiness.

"Thank you, my daughter." Shisti pressed a hand to her abdomen and sent power back to the tiny girl growing inside her. Sharing this way, her daughter would be born with innate knowledge of magic and have another advantage. If they were going to escape all the courts, monsters, and servitude to live in freedom, they both needed every chance available.

Shared magic grew exponentially, and as she received and returned the energy, her power grew to levels she'd not experienced since she came to the Raven Court.

With her magic at an all-time high, she felt invincible. She was willing to take her revenge on Fechin over time, but Vilkos needed to learn a lesson immediately.

CHAPTER TWENTY

INISFAIL COURT

VILKOS

Vilkos lounged on the Wulven throne in his audience hall. He kept the place dim -- he and the men of the Wild Hunt were capable of seeing clearly in the near darkness, and bright light hurt eyes that preferred the moon.

Plus, the near darkness kept out all except the most determined of petitioners. Those who sought help from the Seelie Court went to Fechin. Vilkos listened to those of the Unseelie Court.

Fortunately, most were too cowardly or intelligent to bother him with anything but the most urgent or important pleas.

The hall wasn't as ostentatious as the one Fechin used. Only fifty people fit comfortably with its walls, but that only helped keep people away -- the ones who thought fancy meant power.

In the center of the room, the entire ceiling opened to the night sky, allowing moonbeams to illuminate the tree he'd brought from the Fae forest where his mother and her sisters once ran. Its roots had been soaked in their blood when the Morrigan's son slaughtered them. It was all he had left of her.

Over the decades, the tree had flourished under his care. Its trunk spanned twenty feet, the canopy twice that, and its roots had taken over, running across the floor. Branches extended to the walls and over them, giving the entire hall the sense of being within the tree.

His throne, a high-backed wooden chair grown out of the live wood, sat atop a large root, a square wooden table next to it. Other chairs and small round tables perched on lower roots. Years ago they had long banquet tables, but the tree didn't dead wood in its presence.

And their entertainments required more freedom of movement.

Girls screamed and ran around the room. As usual, a door stood open. If the girls made it through the door, they were free. Or so they believed. Men of the Wild Hunt wouldn't stop their pursuit at a door. Sometimes a long chase proved more satisfying when the prey was finally caught.

Vilkos felt no desire to chase any of the screaming girls. His wolf only stirred for one woman now.

As a child, he'd seen his mother murdered, and his father's descent into madness. He'd vowed to never take a mate. To never put himself in that position. Now here he was, with Shisti, of all people, as a mate. Emotions he'd never wanted to feel warred within him.

He missed his mother and the way she'd sing and dance under the moon with him. The fierce ache still hurt even after all the years since her death. She was loving, kind, gentle, and too trusting, and that's what got her murdered by the Morrigan's son. She and her two sisters, slaughtered like they were no more than animals.

The loss of her had caused his father to go mad, and Vilkos had effectively become an orphan. Nicusor took over the Wild Hunt. Members had always been ruthless, and more animal than man. Since his mother's murder, The Wild Hunt's sole purpose had become revenge.

Vilkos had become the Morrigan's adopted son, but more hostage to keep his father in check. Not that Nicusor cared about his son. He and the Wild Hunt had returned the slaughter -- of the Morrigan's family, only two daughters, Morgan and Meghan, remained alive. Fechin lived since the Morrigan had saved Vilkos, a son for a son, but if the women ever surfaced again, they'd be killed on sight.

Ever since he'd been brought here as a boy and told Fechin was his brother, there had been a competition between them. They used to like one another, but the rivalry had long since become deadly.

A particularly high-pitched scream brought his attention back to the spectacle in front of him.

One by one, the girls were captured, each man dragging his screaming captives to a table. Some were forced to their knees, others bent over a table. Clothing ripped. There were a few guests tonight. A sluagh. A puca. A fuath.

And a satyr. Interesting. They were a proud species, not given to asking for help.

"Thigran, what can the Unseelie Court do for the satyrs?"

The satyr forced the girl he'd caught onto his goat-legged lap. "We want the Wild The Hunt to destroy the centaurs."

Centaurs. The beasts thought they were better than everyone else in the forest, and wouldn't hesitate to loose their bows at anyone they considered a threat. Nevermind they weren't even Inisfail Fae. They were refugees. Who were they to decide what was just and who deserved punishment?

"What's the problem with the centaurs?"

"They're killing us. What else?"

Vilkos wanted to kill the satyr in front of him. Perhaps the centaurs were on to something.

"They've already been to see Fechin."

That got Vilkos' attention. He did his best to avoid the whiners and complainers of the court. "And what did my dear brother say?"

"He sent that animal." Thigran tightened his fist in his girl's hair until she whimpered. "The Dullahan. He's scattering us. We have no protection against him."

Vilkos raised an eyebrow. No one had protection against The Dullahan. He was a last resort. Why had Fechin sent him already?

"I'll send a message to my father." If nothing else, the Wild Hunt might enjoy a bit of sport against the headless hunter.

The sluagh, a skeletal, grey-skinned man with dark, leathery wings, glanced up from his terrified captive. "Your father will want to know why you've returned to the Raven Court before he grants any favors."