King of Merits: A Fae Romance (Black Blood Fae Book 3)
King of Merits: Chapter 12

Riven

A terrible vision wakes me from my slumber, rattling my bones so hard I lurch into a sitting position. Retching in pain as my eyes search the room, I expect to see only the darkness wrapping my body, but instead replace myself immersed in a dream of home. Of Lidwinia in the throne room.

I watch the scene unfold from the Great Hall’s marble floor as I stand in the center of the Blood Sun triangle, an insubstantial wraith, a ghost, who no matter how loud I shout, cannot be heard.

The throne room’s doors grind open behind me, and the black-armored guards announce the entrance of Elas, Lidwinia’s beloved consort and our court technomancer.

“My love,” he booms, striding past monolithic columns of black, red, and gold, his dark wings unfurled and trembling above him. “I have news from the Elemental Court. They have our king!”

“What?” My sister leaps off the sun throne, her knuckles white around the glowing scepter in her fist. No doubt she wishes to snap the infernal device into a thousand jagged pieces.

The hall’s bronze and gold surfaces gleam darkly in the moonlight. I scan the room’s shadowy corners and recesses, noting that my sister and Elas are alone, which is the only positive thing about this nightmare I replace myself appearing in.

“Those filthy, double crossing sluaghs,” she says. “And to think I encouraged Riven to journey to their land. I should have known not to trust them, at least not while Everend Fionbharr still lives.”

As Elas arrives below the dais, he unravels a scroll.

Rage seems to have frozen Lidwinia solid as she doesn’t speak or even grunt in response. Only trembles. I can imagine what she’s thinking—nothing good, that much is certain.

Finally, she speaks. “How I shall revel in bringing about Prince Everend’s slow demise, for surely this must be his doing, Elas. No one else would dare hold Riven captive. No one.”

“I can’t believe fun-loving Queen Isla would do such a thing,” says Elas. “And certainly not kind-hearted King Rafael.”

“I agree. It’s difficult to imagine them doing so. Once, I considered them friends. But they could have changed. Perhaps power has corrupted them and they mean to conquer us just as Father warned. Ruin us.”

Elas mounts the steps, and in my trance, I watch his boots stamp the jewel-encrusted steps of alternating colors.

Red. Black. Red. Black. Red. Black. And so on.

Lidwinia sinks onto the granite base of my sun-disk throne, and Elas drops to his knees before her, gingerly holding the scroll out as if it signs his death warrant.

“Hurry up and give it to me,” my sister demands.

Frown deepening, he hands it over. “Lidwinia—”

“Shush.” The word hisses through the empty hall.

Elas’s dark eyes plead for restraint and calm. The scroll’s parchment crinkles as Lidwinia holds it to the side, perhaps not quite ready to read it. Unfocused, she stares into the distance.

I tread forward, then up the stairs to stand beside her. I reach for her shoulder, but my hand swipes through the air. “Lidwinia?” I say. “Lidwinia, by the Merits, can you hear me?”

As expected, I receive no reply. Not even an eyelash flickers in response.

For a moment, I watch the mechanical birds swoop through the incense-filled air and take a slow, deep breath.

Home.

I’ve been longing to see it. But not like this. Not with my sister about to declare war on the Elementals.

She’s worked so hard to maintain a level-headed temperament, and like me, has striven to be different than our dead father and brother and always battled against her dark Unseelie nature.

But as she gives Elas a tight-lipped smile, I’d wager my faithful steed, Raghnall, that she’s picturing the Emerald Castle razed to the ground, pretty crystals of green and jet sparkling beneath mud and gore and slimy ancient vines. Ever’s entrails glistening in the dirt. Maggots feeding on his wife’s crushed skull.

These images would sicken me, but not my vengeful sister who killed Temnen and Father and has never shown a scrap of regret over their murders. When it comes to protecting the few fae she truly loves, she’s capable of anything.

Elas smiles in return, his fangs stark white against strands of dark hair that frame his face. He squeezes Lidwinia’s knee reassuringly, and her shoulders drop a little.

As she opens the scroll and begins to read, her spider, Rothlo, creeps from her hair onto her shoulder, and she pats the creature’s spiked, gold legs.

“Well this explains why they haven’t replied to my messages,” she says. “Who delivered this?”

“Olwydd delivered it to the front gate. The head of guards, as is protocol for anything that bird presents, intercepted and read it, then informed me of its essence. Without reading it myself, I flew straight to you.”

“Olwydd, but of course. Wherever there’s trouble, my dead brother’s hateful bird can be found.”

“What does it say?” Elas rises from his knees, kisses her cheek, then sits on the smaller throne beside her.

She thrusts the scroll in his face, and he takes it and reads slowly. With each word he utters, a poisoned thorn pricks my heart.

“Lidwinia, Royal Princess of Merits,

In the interests of alleviating your pain, I will deliver my distressing news without delay. The Court of Five have your brother, Riven Èadra na Duinn. Namely, he is being held by Isla Fionbharr, the Queen of Fire and hidden by her accomplice Merrin Fionbharr, the Princess of Air.

At this moment in time, he is alive, but despite my best efforts, I do not have in my possession clear details regarding their plans to either use or dispose of him.

When you take your revenge and retrieve your honorable king, I beg only that as thanks for this information, you dispense mercy upon myself and my intended bride, Merrin Fionbharr, who I solemnly promise to control and punish on your dear brother’s behalf.

A place at your court or in the lands nearby is all the reward I seek.

Yours in perpetual friendship,

Kian Leondearg of Talamh Cúig, the Land of Five.”

Kian Leondearg. Who is this traitorous Elemental troll turd who thinks himself worthy of Merri? When I replace him, I’ll smash his skull to pieces.

Blowing out a long breath, Elas unfolds his wings with a metallic tinkle as he waits for my sister’s response.

Lidwinia’s nails tap against the bronze armrest as she speaks in a sing-song voice that would raise chills over my flesh if I weren’t a mere apparition.

“Tinkle, tinkle the faerie’s bells ring out. Chink, chink the warrior’s armor clatters. A bell. A sword. Both mighty and strong. Laughter and tears exterminate an enemy. Two lovely weapons. But which will I choose, Elas? Which shall I use?”

“Not the sword,” I say, my words falling on deaf ears. “Please, not the sword.”

“Lidwinia, what will you do?” Elas asks.

“I’ll take my warriors and march for the Land of Five. I’ll hear them out, but happily kill every last smug and shining Elemental fae if I must.”

I kneel at my sister’s side and beg her to hear my pleas, but I might as well be an insect on the wall for all the attention she pays me, which is none.

A wing wraps around Lidwinia’s shoulders. “My love, consider a moment. You mustn’t forget Queen Isla was once your friend, and dare I suggest still is. If she did have our king, for whatever reason, she would tell you. And despite Everend’s ill will toward him, I cannot believe Isla would ever permit him to harm Riven.”

“But Everend is a—”

“But the missive doesn’t mention Ever. And what do we know of this Kian Leondearg? At a long-ago festival, he ran with our rough pack of boys. As I recall, Kian was a good friend of the deceased Elemental heir, Ranier, but he was not well liked by the others. Let me investigate, and I shall—”

“No. The content of this letter, this fae’s words must be true. You know it to be so, Elas. Queen Isla has my brother. I must retrieve him and make them pay.”

Elas takes her hands and rubs them gently, the contact causing the purple glyphs to dance over her skin. “I’ll leave for the Emerald Court tonight,” he says in the assured voice of reason. “I’ll go in person…a diplomatic mission. I’m certain there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for the queen holding Riven in secret. Isla must have sent word to you, and it’s somehow been intercepted, just as your messages to her must have been. Strange forces are at work. Never before have the actions of other courts in our realm been so well veiled to us. But we must be calm.”

“Calm, is your recommendation, is it? Surely you jest.”

“I don’t. Think of everything Riven has worked for, Lidwinia. His greatest wish is peace for his kingdom. For you.”

“Listen to Elas,” I say to no one who can hear me. “You know he’s right. Please, Sister.”

“Tomorrow, we’ll march toward the Elemental Court, and Isla can tell us herself why she’s holding our king captive,” she says to Elas. “And if necessary, justice will be served—with a hearty complement of blood and gore. Hopefully, most of it Everend Fionbharr’s.”

The edges of the room begin to waver. I look down at my legs, watching them dissolve as I’m sucked back into my body in the cell behind Merrin’s bedchamber.

“No,” I whisper hoarsely into the darkness. “What I saw cannot have been real.”

But deep in my gut, I know the truth—the infrequent visions I have outside of the druid’s cavern are rarely ever wrong. This situation doesn’t bode well for the Elementals.

I must warn Merri immediately.