Chapter 3

3

" H ello," he said smoothly as his dark eyes drank me in. Just as the female had, he rested his gaze on my hidden sword. "Saoirse tells me you're a solitary fae in need of a home. I'm Lugh, Master of this house."

"King," Saoirse hissed beneath her breath.

"Master will do for now."

My mind whirred. Okay, so the guy who'd met with Anderson and had asked for the cauldron was none other than the Master of this House. And he was either calling himself a king, or his subjects were insisting upon it. Maybe both. He was after some kind of magical cauldron, and he planned to use it to steal the crown from Clark.

At least it hadn't taken me long to find the right guy. Now I just needed to stop him.

To make matters even stranger, I knew the Master who lived here. Or I thought I did. Her name was...well, it was Athaira—she'd named her House after herself. This lad, Lugh, I'd never heard of.

"Something the matter?" he asked in that lilting Scottish accent of his.

"You're not what I expected," I admitted. "Some friends told me about this place, and they didn't mention a king."

"No, I don't suppose they did." His dark eyes flashed as he turned toward Saoirse. "Leave us. I'll take it from here. Oh, and call a meeting in the Great Hall."

A strange unease prickled the back of my neck. "What's the meeting for?"

"You'll find out soon enough, if I agree to it." Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the stone doorframe. "Before I let you inside, I need to ask you a few questions."

"Okay." I mimicked his stance. "Ask away."

"What's your name?"

"Moira." I figured I'd go with the truth. He'd never met me, and I'd never met him.

"Pretty name." His eyes slightly narrowed. "Why are you here?"

"I told you why I'm here. Why are you being so mysterious?" I shot back, unable to help myself. "I thought the Court was eager to help solitary fae. Strength in numbers, you know."

"Oh, I know." He straightened and took a step forward. His shoulders loomed over me, and I swore magic sparked between our bodies. "But how do you know? I was under the impression that solitary fae knew little about Court customs."

"I did my research."

"Hmm." He tapped his chin. "Are you willing to sign an NDA agreement?"

"An…NDA agreement?" My mouth dropped open. This was absurd. In all my time as a fae, which was a hundred years now, I'd never heard of such a thing. We were fae , for fuck's sake. Bound by duty and honour. We didn't need things like NDA agreements.

"That's right. A contract, signed in blood."

"I…" My heart skipped a beat. A blood contract. Those were rare and took a very special type of skill in order to pull them off. I hadn't known that House Athaira even had a fae with that kind of power. Seemed they were keeping far more secrets than one.

A malicious grin spread across his face. "Your choice. Either you're in, in which case you sign the contract, or you're out."

I stared at Lugh. He looked like a villain in a film, all sharp lines and immovable steel. He had presented me with an impossible choice. I could enter this castle and find out what he had planned. But then I wouldn't be able to tell a soul. Blood contracts are forever binding. If I found the truth inside these castle walls, how would I get the information to Clark?

My queen's words—my friend's words—rang in my ears. You're the best of us, Moira .

I wasn't. Not even close. But maybe I could prove I was better than the worst.

The only way to discover Lugh's plans was to infiltrate his castle. To do that, I would have to sign a blood contract. But the great thing about magic is, there's always a way out. A counter spell, a loophole, something. I'd figure something out.

With a deep breath, I gave a nod. "I'm in."

T urned out it wasn't as simple as signing my freedom away on a blood contract. Lugh paraded me through the cobblestone courtyard and then into a Great Hall packed to the brim with tittering fae. The large, expansive room rose to a hammerbeam roof made with dark timber, rounded off in decorative stone-carved corbels. Flickering sconces highlighted the collection of swords that were hanging in rows by the entry. The bottom half of the walls were glistening wood, polished to perfection. The top half had been painted crimson red.

Twenty rows of wooden tables spread from one end of the room to the next, facing the front where a throne made of twisting black vines sat on an elevated stone dais. Behind it, flames roared in a dominating fireplace .

My stomach flipped as I stared. He'd fashioned himself a throne. This was worse than I'd thought.

Lugh strode through the packed hall with his head held high, his hand curled tightly around my arm. He practically dragged me forward. Whispers and murmurs rose to a harsh crescendo. When we reached the front, he deposited me at the front of the dais. He settled into his throne and crossed his ankle over his leg, leaning back with a smug smile.

The room fell silent with a hush.

My heart thumped as I scanned the crowd. They all stared at their king in awe, eyes shining with eager anticipation.

"Welcome to the House of Wraiths. We are ghosts, spectres. The rest of Faerie does not know we exist." Lugh flicked his fingers at a small squat hobgoblin who scurried out of the shadows.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. It had been decades since I'd seen one of these creatures. I thought most had died during the plague, and the rest during the human world wars. They were strange little fae. This one was male, with greenish skin, a long snout, and ears that were as big as his face, pointing up toward the ceiling. He was about as tall as my waist, but his feet were three times the size of mine.

The hobgoblin that scurried toward me wore a billowing black cloak and nothing else. Even though I knew he was harmless, I had to fight the urge to step back. They could be vicious when they wanted to be.

I slid my eyes from the hobgoblin to King Lugh. House of Wraiths? Not only was Lugh calling himself a king, he'd changed the name of his House. I had enough information to go straight to Clark now. I could just sprint out the door and never look back. Of course, I still didn't know what Lugh had planned. And I didn't know what the cauldron could do.

The hobgoblin shoved an ancient parchment into my hands with words written out in an elaborate scrawl. His little voice was high-pitched when he spoke. "This is your blood contract. It binds you to never speak of this place or what you find within it."

He held out a pen, waiting.

Bracing myself, I grabbed the parchment and signed my name.

The hobgoblin let out a screech, and the entire hall joined in with the cheer. I glanced from one wicked grin to the next, wondering what the hell I'd gotten myself into. These were not welcoming faces. They weren't applauding because they were happy I'd joined their House of Wraiths. I knew that sparkle in their eye. I'd walked straight into some kind of trap, and the hammer was about to fall.

The hobgoblin sauntered over to King Lugh and shoved the contract into his hands. A moment later, Lugh whisked it out of sight. The little creature strode from one end of the raised dais to the next, hands tucked neatly behind his back. His oversized ears swished from side to side. Suddenly, he stopped and whirled toward the crowd with a dramatic flair that only hobgoblins possessed.

"Every new member of the House of Wraiths must undergo a trial to prove their worth," the hobgoblin said, his wicked eyes flashing. He glanced at me over his shoulder. "What is your gift?"

I let a beat pass, and then another. I didn't want to tell this room of fae my power, but I didn't see a way out of it, either. "I'm skilled with the blade."

Out of the corner of my eye, Lugh shifted on his throne. The hobgoblin looked delighted. A murmur even went through the crowd. Great. Just what I needed. They were excited about this—about the way I could handle a blade. That never led to anything good.

"We could use a warrior," the king murmured.

"Very well then." The hobgoblin clapped his hands and turned toward the crowd once again. "It is now time for you, my dear House of Wraiths, to vote on the trial that Moira must endure to join us. As always, you will be given three options. The first of which is this: Moira must slay as many vampire mannequins as possible within five minutes. She must beat the current record, set by our king himself."

Mannequins? Sure, okay. No problem at all. That seemed fairly straightforward and not nearly as gruesome as I'd expected. I shot a glance at the king and tried to take a measure of his skill. He was clearly strong and formidable. I wouldn't want him to sneak up behind me in a shadowy alley. His muscular physique confirmed he spent hours training for time in the field. But what was his skill? If it wasn't swordplay, his record didn't stand a chance against me.

Much to my disappointment, only a few hands shot up at that option.

"Brilliant." The hobgoblin's smile stretched wide. "Second option, Moira must fight our strongest warrior. The winner is the first to draw blood. Injuries are encouraged."

I shifted on my feet and frowned. The first to draw blood? Injuries encouraged? While I had no doubt in my abilities, the trial was quickly transforming from a harmless display of strength to a blood-soaked battle.

Much to my relief, only a few hands shot up once again.

The hobgoblin twisted to face me and grinned. At the look in his yellow-green eyes, unease clenched my stomach. Suddenly, I understood what was about to happen. If the pattern followed, this next option had something nasty in store.

"It seems the third option wins by default," the hobgoblin began with a cackle. "And that option is…Moira must descend into the Sluagh vaults. All she must do is survive."

" Y ou didn't say anything about me fighting a bunch of bloody Sluagh." Hands propped on my hips, I shouted the words at Lugh.

After the vote, he had smoothly led me out of the Great Hall and into some sort of staging room where he now examined my sword with a disturbing amount of apathy. The room was empty apart from the two of us and some folding chairs. The only door had been barred shut, and no windows provided a view out of this hellhole.

Lugh shrugged. "If you find this trial too daunting, you are free to leave."

My mouth opened and then closed. Damn him. Sluagh were nasty creatures. Dangerous and vicious and made from pure evil. They were basically the walking dead, but stronger. They knew how to wield weapons, and they'd do anything to tear out someone's eyeball. I could take on a few by myself, but an entire vault full of them? No, thanks.

He lifted his eyes from my sword. "What will it be? Decide carefully, Moira. If you walk away, you will not be allowed back inside this castle."

"You made me sign a blood contract."

"And?" He arched a brow. "The contract says nothing about allowing you to join this House. It does not bind us to you. It only binds you to us and limits your freedom to speak of this place."

I ground my teeth together. That would teach me for not reading the entire bloody thing.

"How many Sluagh are down there?" I demanded.

"I honestly don't know," he said. "The vaults are swarming with them. The path you must take will likely bring you into contact with a couple dozen. If you're lucky."

Furious, I stabbed a finger into his chest. "A couple dozen? You honestly expect to put a new recruit through something like this? It could get me killed."

Or worse.

"Careful." His voice was as smooth as chocolate as he pulled my finger away from the black shirt that clung to his chest, but his eyes flashed with danger. "I wouldn't want to have to call my guards."

"Right. Like you need their back up." I swallowed hard when he kept a tight grip on my hand. "Who the hell are you anyway? Where's the old Master of this House? What's up with the House of Wraiths? I've never heard of a fae named Lugh. I know I'm an outsider, but I'm shocked rumours haven't spread about what's going on here. You've made up your own bloody House, one not recognised by the rest of Faerie."

His smile stretched thin, and his hand tensed around mine. "My name isn't known because I do not want it to be. And the truth about our House is in the name. We are wraiths, Moira. The world outside these ancient stone walls does not know what we do in here. And if you pass this trial, you'll become a wraith, too."

A shudder went through me. His words both electrified and terrified me. I wanted to take him down, more than ever, but I also wanted to run screaming in the opposite direction. Wraiths . That name invoked terror and death. Visions of nightmarish forms in hooded cloaks flashed through my mind. Memories I thought I'd hidden so deep inside me I'd never have to remember them again.

Furiously, I blinked those images away.

"Let me guess." He dropped my hand. "You want to back out of this trial. It's too dangerous for you to handle."

"No." I bristled. "I've fought Sluagh before. Easy peasy."

His dark as night eyes widened, and he suddenly looked keenly interested. Too keenly. "When would a solitary fae have fought the walking dead?"

I wrapped my belt around my waist and grabbed my sword from where he'd leaned it against the wall. "You don't know what it's like out there. Not when you're sitting up here in your fancy castle, doling out dangerous trials to fae who simply need a roof over their heads."

For a fleeting moment, I thought about ending this entire thing right here and now. I had my sword. He had no weapon, at least that I could see. None of his guards were in here, and I had a pretty good idea the route I'd need to take to find the exit door.

It could be over before he took his next breath.

Silence hung between us, heavy and loud. The world slowed around me as my magic caressed the sword strapped to my side. The steel seemed to pulse in time with the beat of my heart. We were in sync. That was how it worked. It knew everything I thought, every move I wanted to make. It would be in my hands, and I wouldn't even have to blink.

"I'm going to call for my guards now," he murmured, his eyes never leaving my face, as if he could read every single thought going through my mind. "What's your decision? Are you going to run? Or are you going to stay and fight?"

A flush crept up my neck, and I didn't know why. Instead of calling to my sword, I just stood still. Why didn't I go ahead and take care of him now? One flash of steel, and it would all be over. One slice of my sword, and I could be down the hallway, heading for the exit door.

But even if I'd slain many enemies, I'd never killed a fae in cold blood. If I chopped off his head in this room, without hard proof of his crimes against the crown, I'd be just as bad as his traitorous arse.

I lifted my chin. "Call them. I'll fight."

His eyes flashed, and I could have sworn his shoulders sagged—just a bit. He almost seemed disappointed. Had he hoped I'd back down and scurry out of here with my tail between my legs? That only made me want to show him up even more. Not only would I survive these vaults, I'd do so in record time.

Unless the Sluagh ate me, of course...

As soon as he cracked the door and called for his guards, new unease roiled through me. Why, oh why, did it have to be the Sluagh?

Anything else. Vampires, werewolves, sorcerers with insane spell-casting abilities. Hell, even fae, like this one. The Sluagh were the one thing I feared more than anything else, except for those nightmarish figures in my mind, figures I'd tried so hard to block out. The real wraiths.

"You're looking kind of pale." Amusement shone in Lugh's dark eyes. "Not cut out for the job?"

"Maybe if you doubt my skills, you should fight me yourself," I shot back.

A thrill went through me when he crossed the room. My chest constricted as I was forced to drop back my head to meet his eyes. Somehow, the distance between us had vanished. Only a single sheet of paper could fit between our bodies, and I could practically feel the beat of his heart syncing with mine—syncing with my steel. His magic curled up my neck, sliding across the delicate skin beneath my ear.

I refused to shudder, even though my body begged to shake. I wouldn't let him see that kind of response.

"That is awfully tempting," he said in a low growl that sent skitters of hot magic down my spine. For a moment, I held my breath, half hoping he'd volunteer to fight me and half dreading he'd make that call.

The door pushed open, and several fae spilled into the room. The power pulsing between us snapped away. Lugh, smirking, stepped back and turned toward his subjects. One was the purple-eyed door greeter, Saoirse. Two more were fae I'd noticed standing solemnly in the back corner of the Great Hall, a female and a male, both with fiery hair. They were clad in all black with swords strapped to their backs. Warriors, no doubt.

Lugh zeroed his attention in on Saoirse. "Well?"

She gave a quick shake of her head. Lugh frowned, and then tsked.

What the hell did that mean?

He turned to me, his eyes flashing. That blood-curdling magic shot through my veins once again. "Very well then. Moira, it's time for your trial."