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37. Maeve

My father.

Daigh waved a hand, turning his litter away from me. Smooth hands grabbed me, and Blake dragged me with him, following behind the litter. Several of the green-guards and other fae in long black cloaks fell in step beside him.

“He’s…he’s joking,” I choked out.

Blake shook his head, his face impossible to read.

My protests died on my lips. As much as I knew I shouldn’t trust the fae king, I believed him. After everything that I’d discovered about myself over the last weeks, nothing took me by surprise any more. Of course my father was a fae – and not just any fae, but the king of the violent Unseelie Court.

It makes perfect sense.

We drew up beside the litter. Daigh chuckled, and in his smile, I realized the cause of the weird feeling – it was recognition. I’d seen his smile before…in the mirror.

“We fae are tricksters, but in this case, I am being entirely truthful. Your mother and I had an arrangement. We met under the light of the full moon, down in the Briarwood meadow, for a ‘roll in the hay,’ as you humans like to say. Unconventional – a fae and a witch – but we both wanted a child, and desperation does play havoc with the mind to the point where even the unthinkable becomes desirable.” Daigh clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth in a way that made me shudder. “And your mother was spectacular. She bucked against me like a little filly in the stables?—”

“Don’t talk about my mother like that,” I growled.

“Like what?” Daigh laughed. “Like a whore? You humans do so relish that word – a word with the power to discredit a woman, to render her impotent even as you grant her the sexual appetite of a tigress. Your mother knew exactly what she wanted and she took it – she would have made an absolutely enchanting fae. The only thing I do resent is the fact that she trapped me in this forsaken place and hid you from me. But I can be patient. I knew you would show yourself when you came of age. As it was, I didn’t even have to wait – those hapless witches of yours led me right to you.”

“You didn’t manage to kill me, so I think you should give the title of hapless to yourself.”

The litter halted outside the entrance to an enormous barrow. This one was on the outskirts of the revels – the door framed with garlands of vivid blue and purple flowers that gave off a pungent, sickly-sweet scent. The king stepped down, his pointed leather boots hitting one of the litter-bearers in the face as he crossed the threshold. Blake dragged me inside after him. The king whipped his head around, and fixed me with a perfect, pearly smile. “Whatever made you think I was trying to kill you?”

I gulped. “The Ferris wheel…my parents…”

“They were not your parents.” The king’s voice became stern. “Come, daughter, and revel with me. From here, you will rule over your own kingdom as my heir. Those humans could never give you anything that compares to you true power.”

I dug my heels into the dirt floor, but Blake was much stronger than me. He scooped me up – thrashing legs and all – and carried me into the sidhe.

The round chamber was lit by the glowing beeswax candles set in enormous chandeliers made of bleached bones – femurs and shoulder blades and pelvic bones forming intricate, almost Rococo-esque filigree that cast jagged shadows across the dirt floor. Some of the bones were from enormous animals, the likes of which hadn’t been seen on earth for millions of years, but others were clearly human and fae.

The dim candlelight could not hope to penetrate into the darkest corners of the vast room. A vaulted ceiling rose above us, crossed with twisted vines and hung with yet more garlands. In the center of the room stood a pair of thrones – one larger than the other, both made of twisted vines and bleached bones and covered in cushions of ivy.

The king sank into the larger of the thrones, pushing his crown further up his forehead. His glittering eyes caught the light. He patted the cushion beside him. “I achieved exactly what I intended when I got rid of those people and that pesky university. I brought you home to us.”

“Wait, you took my scholarship—” Rage burned inside me.

Of course, I should have seen that a mile away.

Without the scholarship and my parents, I had nothing tying me to Arizona, so it made perfect sense to go to England.

Daigh knew exactly what the Briarwood witches would do. Corbin’s letter played right into Daigh’s hands…

Blake dumped me in the chair beside Daigh.

I crawled out of the throne and toppled to the floor.

Bastard.I glared from Blake to Daigh. Like hell I was going to sit beside that man, not even for a moment. Every terrible thing that has happened in my life could be tied back to his evil, and he dared to sit there grinning me like he was the cat and I was a saucer of cream.

A circle of guards closed in around me, but they didn’t make a move to touch me.

“I thought you’d be happy to learn that you are among family, that it was I, not your witches, who returned you to England,” Daigh said. ”You are in your rightful home, ready to take over your destiny as the rightful Queen of the fae.”

This is insane.

“I’m not the queen of anything. I’m not a fae. I’m a witch. That’s how I managed to project the whole coven into the fae realm through my dream.”

The king laughed. “Do you think if witches had the power to cross over into our realm, that we would still be here? No, dear daughter, if that were true humans would have journeyed here long since, pillaged this place of all its beauty, and turned it into another outlet mall or theme park. No, it is your fae side that has brought you here, that kept you hidden from us.”

“I’m not a Rubik’s Cube. I don’t have sides.”

I was quite proud of that comeback, but Daigh doesn’t even flinch. There was a commotion behind me, and several of the king’s attendants disappeared from the dark room to investigate. I almost imagined I could hear cheering echoing from outside, and my heart thudded against my ribs to think that they might be cheering because my boys were being killed.

Maybe Blake’s vision was coming true after all. Maybe I’d find my guys impaled on stakes, their mangled bodies burned beyond recognition.

Speaking of Blake…

I glanced behind the king, but I could no longer see Blake there in the gloom. I climbed to my feet, peering over the heads of the fae, searching the dark corners of the cavernous room. Where is he?

“It is my hope that over time, you will fully embrace your fae side,” the king said. “You will learn to be happy here. Blake has found that he can survive in Tir Na Nog, even though our food is poison to him. But once you restore us to our rightful place, you will have all the human slaves you could need to bring you your favorite delicacies.”

“I’m not staying here,” I protested. “I’m not helping you. I’d sooner die.”

“You won’t have a choice.” Daigh – my father – waved away one of his attendants, who was trying to whisper something urgently in his ear. “My fae have killed your precious witches.”

No.

His words rang in my eyes as raw grief swept from my toes through my whole body. I closed my eyes against the onslaught, but beneath the lids all I could see was the Ferris Wheel fire consuming everyone I loved – my parents, Corbin, Arthur, Flynn, Rowan…all of them burning while I sat here and traded insults with Daigh.

“Your power alone will not be enough to hold us back.” Daigh’s voice brought me back from the edge of despair. “My soldiers are on their way to your world now. They will have their human agent return your body to us. Once we are in possession of your body, we control you?—”

“You don’t control shit.”

My heart soared as Arthur rushed into the room, his arms raised above his head and a terrible look of rage and vengeance on his face. The glint of the lanterns shone off the blade of his sword as he swung it down, cutting up the first line of Seelie guards who tried to halt him.

He’s alive.

Daigh lied. He lied and Arthur is alive.

How the hell did he manage to find his sword?

Great and terrible was my Arthur’s rage as he slashed that weapon into fae flesh, staining the dirt floor with green blood. He bellowed as he hacked at Daigh’s guard, his feet darting and weaving, his body poised and graceful – performing his dance of death.

The room erupted into chaos as the screams of dying fae filled the air, and guards and court fairies trampled over each other in their haste to make for the one exit.

My chest swelled. My Aragorn.

Behind him came Flynn, his fists whirring through the air, a bone knife raised high. He may not have had Arthur’s skill with a blade, but he had a brawler’s anger and he fought dirty, sweeping out legs and kneeing crotches and smashing his fist into noses and throats. He followed in Arthur’s wake, cleaning up his mess as they moved around the perimeter of the room.

And behind them both, staying close to the wall, was Rowan. His face was drenched with sweat and blood as he held Corbin’s stiff body up and dragged it behind him, Corbin’s arm slung over his shoulder.

They’re alive. I don’t know how but I don’t care. They’re alive and they’re mine and Daigh won’t take them away from me.

“Kill them!” The king roared at his panicking fae, but no one seemed to hear him. I rose to my feet and rushed toward my boys, but my feet stuck fast to the ground. I yanked and yanked at my legs, but they wouldn’t move.

Daigh’s eyes glinted in triumph. He held his hand out in front of him, the palm pointed directly at me. “You will not be going anywhere with them,” he spat.

“Touch Maeve and we’ll hurt your prince,” Arthur roared.

I looked over my shoulder. I don’t know how, but Flynn had Blake under his arm. Blake’s own arm hung limp at his side, a jagged cut across his shoulder. Blake’s eyes bore into mine, cool and surprisingly serene, as Flynn’s bone blade pressed up against his throat.

“You’re making a mistake,” Blake warned.

“Shut up,” Flynn growled, pressing the blade against Blake’s skin. A thin line of red blood streaked across Blake’s throat.

The king laughed, wiping spittle from his jaw. He waved his other hand at Flynn. “Fine. Kill him if you must. It is of no consequence to me.”

“I will,” Flynn yelled, pressing the bone blade deeper into Blake’s throat. Blake tried to say something else, but all that came out was a strangled cry.

My chest lurched.

“Flynn, don’t,” I said, not really sure why I was trying to save the guy who’d betrayed us. But something felt wrong.

I tried to fling myself toward them, but the king’s magic still held me glued in place.

Panic rose in my throat, and I realized with startling clarity that I was watching the beginning of the deaths of my boys. As good as Arthur was, soon the sidhe would swell with reinforcements. A single shot from one of those deadly recurve bows and he would never swing a sword again. Not even my knight could hold them all back. I couldn’t see a way out of this, unless…

Unless I gave myself up. Unless I did what the king asked.

“Fine, I’ll do it!” I yelled at the king. “I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll stay here with you and rule your kingdom, but you have to let the guys go free.”

“Maeve, no,” Arthur growled, sliding his blade into a sprite who tried to latch on to his hair.

The king grinned. “Ah, so she does see reason. That’s my girl. I’m sure that if your knight puts down his iron weapon we shall be able to come to some kind of arrangement.”

“Arthur, put down the sword.” My voice wavered. My whole body trembled.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

The idea of staying with Daigh, of becoming like the fae, turned my stomach. But if I wanted to save my boys, I didn’t have a choice.

“I won’t surrender,” Arthur growled as he cut down another fae. “You’re not staying here with him. I’d die first.”

“Arthur, Flynn, please,” I begged. Tears streamed down my face. “This is the way it has to be. He killed my parents just so I’d come here. I can’t have your deaths on my conscience, too. Please…”

“He’s a fae. You can’t trust him,” Flynn hissed, pressing that blade harder into Blake’s throat. “Even if he is your father, it doesn’t mean anything to him. He’s going to let his own son die.”

“Perhaps you would take his place?” The king asked Flynn. “Blake’s not my biological son. He’s just some baby I stole before I was banished here. I thought he’d be a fitting lover for my daughter once she came of age. But if she has found more worthy suiters, I obviously have no need of him.”

“No thanks. Unlike your boy here, we don’t need your help to find a girl,” Arthur stepped forward, slicing through a horned fae that stood in his path. “You’re not getting Maeve, or any of us, and you’re not getting the earth back, no matter how many fae you send after us.”

Two black-clad fae leapt at him, but instead of attacking them, Arthur flicked his sword back over his shoulder, slashing a vine that rose to the ceiling. His blade sliced clean through it. The vine whipped up over their heads, and my gaze followed it up, realizing with a start what Arthur had done.

Now free of its rope, an enormous bone chandelier crashed to the ground, right on top of Daigh’s throne.

The throne collapsed, flattening Daigh against the ground by the weight of the chandelier. He moaned as a scapula pinned his chest. A heavy arm of bones crossed over his legs, bending his knees at impossible angles. Green blood poured from a deep wound on his head. His mouth hung open, but all that came out was a bubbling, strangled gasp.

The room erupted in chaos. Fae rushed forward to help their king, but one swing of Arthur’s sword cut them down and sent them back against the walls.

I collapsed to the ground, my feet free of the spell. I picked myself up and ran over to the guys, flinging Corbin’s other arm over my shoulder and taking some of the weight from Rowan.

“Maeve…” Daigh managed to choke out, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“She’s not yours to take. If you want Maeve, you’re going to have to get through us first.” Arthur slammed his blade through the king’s hand, driving it deep into the earth.

Daigh’s wheezing scream sliced the air. Smoke curled from the edges of the wound as the iron did its work, poisoning his skin and drawing out his magic. Arthur stepped back, whipping another bone knife from his belt.

“Get it out!” Daigh yelled as he tugged at his hand, but the sword held him fast to the ground. The skin around the blade withered and curled up like dead leaves in fall. The fae quivered against the walls, too afraid to touch the iron blade.

“Maeve,” it was Arthur, his hand on my arm, pulling me toward the door. “We have to go.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice!” I lifted Corbin higher on my shoulder. Rowan and I raced dragged Arthur as he cut his way through stunned, terrified fae and out into the crisp moonlight.

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