King of Merits: A Fae Romance (Black Blood Fae Book 3)
King of Merits: Chapter 5

Merri

Today, the Lake of Spirits on top of Mount Cúig shimmers, the surface of the water resembling rainbow moonstone—flashing silver, blue, pink, and peach.

I can’t peel my eyes from the beauty of the lake, the source of our Elemental powers, as I dry off after my monthly swim. Feeling revitalized, I tug my clothes on quickly, competing with Magret to be the first dressed.

“Merri, we should hurry back,” says Magret, pulling her mauve tunic on and squirming to drag her large antlers through the neckline. “Your mother wants you back in time to meet the Shade Court royals who are arriving in advance of tomorrow’s feast.”

That’s right. Beltane. I’m trying to forget about it. I turn my frown away from Magret as I tighten my sword belt, then tie on my soft gold cloak.

“She wants me home in time to be trussed up to meet Prince Landolin.”

“Merri! Lara only wishes you to meet one of your own kind who’ll make you as happy as Prince Ever has made her. She hopes you’ll replace love. What mother does not wish this for their beloved child?”

I can think of quite a few, but I won’t name names. Fae females can be ruthless in their matchmaking schemes, caring only for social connections and advancements. Love usually has nothing to do with it.

I wish I could confess the truth to Magret. Tonight is an orchestrated ruse, and I only have to pretend to be amenable to a match with Landolin, because our High Mage has already foreseen our bond will fail the Beltane rites. Thank the Elements.

“Well, then,” I say, smoothing my bitter expression. “Where are all the halfling princes hiding who want to leap over the Beltane fires with me? Besides Wyn, I’m yet to meet one, and if Mother wishes me to wed my own kind, then a halfling is what she’ll need to present. Or do you think she and Father will let me take a trip to Blackbrook to replace a human husband?” I already know the answer to that stupid question. A big fat no.

Magret’s pale skin darkens and wildflowers sprout around her bare feet, a sure sign I’ve angered her. “You know your happiness is her main concern. Tell her your dreams, and she’ll help them become your reality.”

True. Mom doesn’t want me to marry someone I despise, but if she knew whose snow-cold kisses I dream about each night, if I told her I have a dreadful crush on the Merit king, who may or may not have tried to take my head off with his sword when I met him two years ago, she’d lock me in a tower and ask the sea witches to hide the key in the deepest part of the ocean.

“All right, Magret,” I say as I mount Nahla. “Let’s leave at once, so we can be home before nightfall, and I can meet the Shade prince wearing clean clothes and my best fake smile.”

Our horses pick their way down the wooded hillside to Terra River at the base of the mountain, where they stop to drink their fill, and I stretch my legs in the stirrups.

The forest glows with golden afternoon light, insects swooping along gentle currents of air. Closing my eyes, I send a gust of wind swirling upward, collecting fallen berries and leaves to twirl through the tree trunks.

Magret laughs, flicks her hand and creates a path of brilliant red poppies that trails haphazardly over the riverbank.

An iridescent gyendad, the freckled wasp my father first thought Mother resembled, escapes my mini-tornado and lands on my forearm.

“Hello, friend,” I say, moving my arm in a slow circle and filling my lungs with the day’s warmth. The creature shoots into the air then buzzes along the path of poppies that rambles through the woods.

My gaze follows the wasp, snagging on a peculiar sight. Underneath a copse of rowan trees, lies a body, the flowers surrounding it an icy white instead of red.

“Magret, look.” I point at the sleeping figure—possibly a demi-giant by the size of it. Or maybe a very large fae.

She reaches for her bow and nocks an arrow while I dismount quietly. I draw my bow and quiver from the saddle and do the same, stalking forward.

“Merri, let me go instead,” her voice hisses.

I shake my head, lifting my palm to stop her, and then draw my bow tighter. Crushing red poppies underfoot, I creep toward the body. Closer. And closer still.

A black cloak and long silver hair swirl through the glowing flowers, and my heart leaps into my throat.

It’s the Silver King.

My mortal enemy.

The fae I dream about who wishes me dead.

The weight of my bow shakes my arms. I should ease my burden and loose the arrow. Kill him, if he’s not dead already. But I can’t make myself release the bowstring.

“He’s fae,” I call over my shoulder as I prowl onward, neglecting to inform my companion which particular fae.

Dropping to my knees beside the king, I rest the bow near my calf. His pallor is gray, his lush lips pale and bloodless. He looks vulnerable. So beautiful. So…almost dead.

Oh, snap out of it, Merri. Stop ogling him and do something.

I feel his forehead, then his cheek. Both are marble-cold.

I ease his cloak aside, then the top of his leather chest plate. A necklace lies against his throat above his Merit pendant. It’s an arrowhead strung on a chain of twisted gold feathers—air symbols that sing to my soul—the initials M.F. engraved upon it. My initials. This is the arrow I lost along with its bow when I met the king at the in-between world.

Why does he wear this?

And speaking of arrows, there’s a rather large one jutting from his chest armor, dark blood still trickling from the wound.

A branch snaps as Magret moves closer. “Merri, who is it? An Elemental?”

“No.” I frown over my shoulder at my friend—wildflowers woven through her white hair and antlers, her corded gardener’s muscles tensed, and the bronze-tipped arrow she’s drawn aimed at Riven na Duinn’s heart. “Stay there, Magret. I don’t want to scare him to death.” Not yet, anyway.

Her pale eyes narrow, but she gives a sharp nod. I breathe a sigh of relief. Magret wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if she knew who he was. Thankfully, Riven hasn’t visited the Elemental Court since he was a child. She’s likely never seen him fully grown.

I rest my weight on my hand beside his chest and lean close, then use my thumb to part his lips and blow a slow stream of gold-tinged healing air into his lungs. With a gasp, he sucks down the magic, his lids slitting open, and I’m pierced by a bolt of startling blue. His eyes are a wonder to behold.

Riven’s pupils dilate, and he tries to lift his head, promptly thudding it back onto the carpet of flowers beneath him.

“You…” he croaks, an elegant but shaky finger pointing at my nose.

“Merri!” says Magret. “Come away from him.”

“It’s fine. I know this fae. Now shush and let me speak with him.”

“But—”

“Please, Magret.” Heart pounding, I inspect the injured Merit.

When I first met Riven, he was tall and ethereal—a boy still developing into a man. Now he looks older, perhaps a few years past my age, and he’s larger, more muscular, and harder all over.

But in Faery, appearances can be deceiving. With glamors and spells, tricks and curses, only a fool would believe their eyes over the words they hear spoken. In words lies the truth hidden behind every selfish motive, foul deceit, and ridiculous ruse.

According to tales, in actual fae years, this Merit has been alive far longer than me, cursed to be ageless until he meets his mate, when henceforth, it’s rumored he’ll begin to age at the normal rate of our species.

This is a full-grown king lying before me, not the exquisite youth of two years past, so he must have already met this paragon of Merit beauty. My foolish heart pangs at the thought.

“You…” he says again, then loses consciousness once more.

“Who is he, Merri?”

“Be patient. I’ll tell you soon.” I push Riven’s shoulder to rouse him. “Yes? I’m certain you were about to say something fascinating.”

This time, his eyes flare open, pupils almost swallowing the blue irises. “You’re her,” he slurs. “The Elemental brat.”

Charming. I remind myself he’s a Merit, and I shouldn’t expect courtly manners from his kind, although, surely a king could do a lot better.

“Obviously, I am she. And you’re the wretched Merit king. A would-be murderer of innocent girls.”

“Merri!” shouts Magret, lifting her bow again. “Come away.”

Gritting my teeth, I throw a gust of wind at Magret. Her hair unravels from its loose braids and wraps around her face, effectively gagging her. She gives a nod of resignation, easing the strain on her bow, but keeping it aimed at the Merit’s chest.

“You’re wrong about that day. I didn’t try to—” Riven breaks off and laughs, an unexpected action for someone with an arrow sticking out of them. “Merrin, look, you have moons around you.”

“What?” My head lashes in all directions, but I see no moons. This fae is delirious.

He laughs again. “You have the full moon at your brow, and the dark one rests over your stomach. Two crescents and the half moons lie at your sides. You have the silver lady’s entire circuit on your body, full to waning, then waxing once more. It is astonishing.”

“What?” I glance at my chest, my thighs, then turn my forearms over, but there are no magical moons to be seen. “Oh, quit your rambling. You’re unwell and not making one tiny bit of sense.”

“Tell me,” he says, barely stifling a groan. “Do you know the final verse?”

“Of what? A ribald song of the Dark Court? An Elemental lovers’ lament.” I shrug. “Perhaps I do. Perhaps I don’t. If you care to explain what in the realms you’re talking about, I’ll attempt to answer.”

“I’m sure you know it.” His eyes roll back. “Um. Something about… Someone defies the king. Merry melts the silver one—no, that’s not right. The Silver King goes forth… I believe I’ve forgotten it.”

“You’re concussed. It’s a wonder you know your own name. Actually, do you know it?”

“Yes. I’m a king of Faery, and we don’t suffer trifling annoyances such as having arrows pointing out of our bodies or halflings hovering over us. Unseelie royal blood is…” He grips the arrow shaft, his knuckles white. “Curse the Blood Sun, this hurts.”

“Yes, you’re a king! And here you lie, proof that royalty can be felled by an arrow just as easily as lesser fae or halflings can.” I stab my finger at the enormous long bow on the ground beside him. “What are you doing hunting in our lands again? You know the penalty.”

“But your uncle…”

I raise my brow, and he shakes his head, wincing as he collects his thoughts. “I mean your step uncle, the king. Or whatever he is to you. Some kind of relation, yes? Well, it’s by his invitation that I’m here, hunting the annlagh.”

“The annlagh isn’t due to surface for another fifty years. And did you say, Rafael invited you? No way. After your last visit, my father wants your head on a platter. Raff wouldn’t dare cozy up to you while Dad has you marked.”

“Cozy up to…what does that mean? And marked for what?”

“Forget about it. Before you pass out, you need some water.” As I stand and retrieve my pouch from Nahla’s saddlebags, I hear a loud grunt behind me, and I turn just in time to watch him pull the arrow from his chest.

“Now you’ve done it!” I tell him. “That arrow will be bewitched at best, poisoned at worst. By tugging it out, you’ve probably sealed your fate—a painful death in a foreign land with no loved ones by your side.”

He has nothing to say to that, except a moan, then he gives me a crooked grin. The fool!

I drop to his side and stem the steady trickle of blood with my palm. Again he loses consciousness. Wonderful. What am I supposed to do with him now?

“Get on Nahla, Merri,” calls Magret, attaching her bow to her saddle. “Hurry.”

“I can’t just leave him here to die a slow death!”

Magret raises a pale eyebrow.

“I can’t. Can I?”

“Yes, you certainly can. And you must.” She springs onto Juniper’s back. “Mount your horse. I beg you, do it now. Nothing good will come of helping this fae. For Dana’s sake, he’s the Merit king.”

Everything she says is true, but I can’t abandon him. Although, even if I wanted to help him, which I think I do, I can’t simply waltz through the castle gates and dump him in the Great Hall, a souvenir of our outing.

Look who we found, folks, the King of Merits out dying in a field of poppies!

We may as well feed him to the frost wolves. Or my father’s cold mercy. No. Sorry, Dad. That won’t be happening today. Not on my watch.

The hidden antechamber behind the wall of my bed springs to mind. Secluded and soundproof, everyone except me seems to have forgotten the room exists. Who would know if I tucked the Merit king away in it? But, then again, if he happened to die there, I’d have a rather large problem to dispose of. That thought gives me pause. He doesn’t look very light. But still…

“Magret, what choice do we have? If we leave him here, he dies. Take him home—my father will crush his lungs and then gut him as he struggles for his last breath. We’ll have to sneak him into the castle and hide him.”

“Where?” she asks, baring her teeth. “Under a log in the Onyx Courtyard?”

“No, in my antechamber. We’ll nurse him back to health and help him escape when he’s well enough. He’s an Unseelie king. He’s strong. He’ll get better quickly, or if the magic he’s been infected with is as potent as it seems, he’ll die fast enough. Either way, he won’t be our problem for long.”

“Your problem. You’ve lost your mind, Merri. This man has stolen your reason.”

She stares at me.

I glare back, waiting for her to break.

“Oh, fine! How will we transport him to the castle?”

“Good question.” I tear a long piece of fabric from my tunic and gently roll Riven onto his side. “Couldn’t you have arranged to be shot a little closer to my home, Riven?” I glance over my shoulder and replace my horse happily eating rowan berries nearby. “Nahla, come quickly.”

She whinnies and trots over, then sniffs the Silver King from his boots to his neck. Snorting, she nudges my shoulder, distracting me while I do my best to bandage Riven’s chest.

“Yes. I know he’s pretty, but try to think of him as more of a murderous viper lurking in the grass than a juicy berry to nibble on. Don’t be fooled by his looks.” That’s what I’m telling myself over and over, anyway. “If you kneel low, Nahla, we can drag him across your back.”

Slowly, my horse lowers herself to the ground.

Magret crosses her arms. “It’s almost a day’s ride to reach Talamh Cúig,” she grumbles.

“I’m aware of that.”

“And we’ll need to move fast if we’re to arrive before your precious burden perishes. Have you considered the journey itself may kill him?”

“Of course. At times like this, I wish I could shift into a flying creature as our full-blooded royal males can. Or transmute from one place to another like the Merits.”

“But you cannot, so—”

“Magret, please stop pointing out the obvious and come and help me.”

We spend an unreasonable amount of time wrestling the listless lump of Merit onto my mare’s back. My air magic barely works on him, which is strange. He’s in my land, so even my diluted halfling power should be strong enough to affect him.

Finally, we tie him securely behind my saddle and set off at a canter, following Terra River toward the Dún Mountains and home.

An indigo dusk is settling over the castle when we pass through the jade gates, a large, oiled cloth I borrowed from a farm draped over the Merit’s body, so he looks like the spoils of a draygonet hunt. Given his bulk, he’s quite the catch.

I wait in the stables for Magret to return with her brother, whose help we sorely need, peeking under the cover now and then to be sure Riven is still alive.

“What’s this?” Alorus asks, nearly taking my eye out with the point of his left horn as he reaches for the cloth. “It’s about the size of a full-grown okapri.”

Okapris are like huge peaceful cows from the human world, but in Faery, their bodies are striped.

I slap Alorus’s hand away. “Fear not,” I tell him. “We haven’t suddenly turned into savage hunters who bring down the gentlest oafs of the land for our pleasure.” I hold my breath, then release it in a whoosh. “It’s a Merit. We found him unconscious near Terra River.”

Alorus’s yellow eyes widen as he lifts the covering and peers beneath it. “Son of a draygonet, he’s the size of a bear, and dressed rather finely, too. Who in the realms is he?”

“He’s my captive, and you’re not to tell a soul or ask Magret a thing about him. After you help him to my chambers, you’re to pretend you’ve never seen him.”

“Your chambers! What madness—”

Squeezing his shoulder, I give him a smile of fake concern. “If you don’t think you’re up to the task, or don’t wish to help your princess, please tell me now, and we’ll arrange to have your memory wiped. Then you can go about your business in peace.”

“Alorus,” his sister scolds. “We have no choice but to hide him as quickly as possible, and we can’t do it without you. Please.”

He turns to me. “Princess, whatever you’re planning it will likely be dangerous, not only for you, but possibly for the entire kingdom. We should alert our king.”

“No! Trust me. Please. I know what I’m doing,” I say, staring at his left eyebrow while I think of a task I’m proficient at—something simple, like removing Nahla’s bridle. “The less questions you ask, the less you’ll have to worry about.” Or be unable to lie about if anyone at court decides to stick their noses into my business.

Sighing, he bows low. “Of course, Princess Merri. I’m always at your service.”

“Wonderful! Now, please, carry him to my rooms via the secret stairs. And hurry, Alorus. We don’t want my father to catch us in the act of hiding a Merit, do we?”

“No, we certainly don’t.” Alorus releases the catches in the trapdoor hidden in the roof of Jinn’s stable. I kiss my father’s steed’s black nose as he wickers a greeting, then hoist myself into the dark passage above.

“Quickly,” I say, helping Magret through.

With a groan, Alorus hefts the Merit king over his shoulder. “Seven hells, if you two get me killed, I’ll never speak to you again.”

“Indeed, you won’t be able to,” says Magret. “Now hurry!”

We wind along the cobwebbed passages without incident, then exit by a narrow door concealed in the hallway that leads to my apartments. Just as I release a huge sigh of relief, we round a bend and crash straight into the queen, tumbling her tray of pastries to the floor.

“Oh! Sorry about that!” she says. Scraping damp tendrils of blonde hair from her face, she squats down and collects her croissants. She’s been on a cooking spree again and still has the apron tied around her golden gown as proof.

Magret bends to assist. “Let me help you, Isla.”

“Your Majesty,” says Alorus as he attempts a stiff bow. I elbow him, indicating he should keep moving past the queen.

Without looking up, Isla says, “I’m glad you made it back in time to greet the Shade courtiers, Merri. Well done. I know you’re not thrilled about taking part in the Beltane rites with Landolin, but it will all work out as it should.” Lifting her tray of restored sweets, she stands and gives me a secret wink. “I’ve just made Raff and I some snacks. Fancy one? It’ll be ages until dinner.”

As I open my mouth to reply, she looks over her shoulder at the fast-retreating faun, and my stomach sinks to my feet.

“Alorus?” she calls, laughing. “What the heck have you got there?”

Alorus’s broad shoulders stiffen, but he doesn’t turn around.

In the silence, my heartbeat drums in my ears, thundering when the queen’s skirts swish as she strides toward the king.

“Whatever it is, Alorus, it’s bleeding on the floor runner. You’d better tell me what you’ve got. Now, please.”

“Something the ladies brought back from their hunt.”

“Yes, and what is it?” The point of her boot taps the floor as tendrils of smoke wind from her fingertips. A second later, those fingers reach for the cloth.

“Stop,” I shout. “It’s a fae from another court. We found him unconscious near Terra River.”

“What?” She lifts the cloth from Riven’s head, gasps, and lets it drop, turning narrowed blue eyes on me. “Merri! This is no ordinary fae. You’ve captured none other than Riven na Duinn, the Silver King of the Court of Merits.”

“I know who he is. And for that reason, we must hide him quickly. Come, Alorus.” I march past Isla and open the door to my chambers. “Will you assist us?” I ask. “Or will you dash off to tell Raff?”

Queen Isla places her tray on the floor against the wall. “Merri,” she says, smiling brightly as she strides closer. “I prefer not to lie to Raff, but I’m still human, albeit a magically altered one, and unlike full-blooded fae, I can lie and will lie to protect those I love. Of course I’ll help you.”

Alorus lays the king on the divan under the window in my sitting room, then I send him and Magret off to gather bedding and nursing supplies.

Standing regally in the center of the room, Isla regards me. “What were you thinking by bringing him to your chambers? Many of us, including Ever, could possibly sense his power, subdued as it is. Your father’s air magic is strong enough. Imagine the hell to pay if he discovered Riven. You’ve risked much to keep this Merit safe.”

Safe? I don’t care if he’s safe necessarily, not after he tried to kill me. Allegedly. I don’t want to be personally responsible for his demise or the ensuing war it would start. Pacing across the floor, I rake my trembling hands through my hair, uncomfortable reality sinking in.

By the Elements, what have I done?

“Chin up, Merri. Since I’m queen, only the High Mage and Raff can rival my magic. I’ll ward the room, cloak its boundaries from snoops. We’ll work this out. Don’t worry.”

Chanting under her breath, she collects ash from the cold fireplace and sprinkles it in each corner of the room. In the air, flame sigils leap to life in each quadrant, then with a loud whoosh, a line of fire runs between them, joining them together.

Isla’s hand sweeps the floor, the roof, the walls, and orange and blue flames follow its path, blanketing all. “By salamander, dragon, and flickering tongues, by citrine and gold, this fire cloak will hold. Thus I have willed it, and now it is done.”

Grinning, Isla brushes her hands off. “Mm. That made me hungry. Got any food up here?”

I laugh. “No. You’ll have to eat the Merit king’s provisions when they arrive. Or perhaps your pastries in the hallway.”

While we await Magret and Alorus’s return, the queen perches on the edge of the divan at Riven’s side, dropping pastry crumbs all over him. Finally, Isla puts the croissant aside and sends fire magic into his wound, healing him as best she can.

She lifts his eyelids then pinches the sharp blade of his cheek before caressing it. “Such beauty,” she murmurs. “He’s so unlike his horrible slug-headed brother, both inside and out. You remember the stories about Temnen?”

I nod. Boy, do I remember. I grew up on them, hanging off every word of the tales about two human girls falling in love with cursed fae princes and becoming Land of Five royalty—a princess and a queen.

Deep in thought, the golden queen purses her lips. “Temnen was such a creep.”

“But while Riven is pleasing to gaze upon, by blood and upbringing, he’s still a Merit,” I say, unwisely reminding her that he could be dangerous. Stupid me. I don’t want the queen to have second thoughts and send for an executioner. Or worse, my father.

Having the Merit king here is an opportunity to study him, work out why I dream about him and why he wanted, or perhaps still wants, to kill me. I hope I haven’t ruined my chance.

A diversion is needed.

I give Isla a sly smile. “So, Temnen had the forehead antennae, his sister Lidwinia, the snake-like tongue. I wonder what slimy appendage Riven na Duinn might be hiding beneath his clothes.”

“Merri!” She cuts me a look, amusement flashing in her sky-blue eyes. “I wouldn’t think too hard about that if I were you.”

It’s strange how pleased she looks right now, her palm resting comfortably on the unconscious king’s chest armor. As if it’s been there before, or she’s harboring a secret passion for him. I need to understand what this is between them. And if they do share a secret, I must know it.

“When I found him, Isla, he was rambling, barely conscious. He said he was in our land on Raff’s invitation, which can’t be true.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re correct. It isn’t true.”

I pull my dagger from the strap around my thigh and point it at Riven’s throat. “Should we…?”

Isla draws my arm back. “No need for that. I’ll send a salamander through the flames with a message to his sister. Tangled threads are at work here. I feel them crackling through my veins. It isn’t dark work, but it’s complicated. Have patience while I unravel them for you. The Silver King is yours to tend. Take good care of him.”

I draw a quick breath and speak, my words a shaky whisper. “Aren’t you worried he’ll try and hurt me?”

She throws back her head and laughs. “Riven? No, I’m not. As far as he’s concerned, trust your instincts as you’ve already done by bringing him home. He’s not your enemy. I promise.”

And who is she to promise such a thing? How could she know for certain?

My gaze flicks between her fond smile and the king she’s directing it at. Something is amiss here, and I have no inkling what it might be. Stretching my fingers subtly, I sift through the air between us, searching for a clue, but replaceing none. I sigh loudly.

The queen turns her smile on me. “Relax, Merri. All is well. Riven is at your mercy.”

“And still I plan to chain him to his sick bed.”

She stands and smooths the front of her gown. “I’d better leave before he wakes. Make sure he believes that only you, Magret, and Alorus know he’s here. Don’t mention me. As much as possible, I’d like to avoid lying to Raff and your parents. But if you need assistance with anything, let me know, and I’ll be here in a flash.”

“Thank you,” I say, so glad to have Isla on my side.

“When he’s well enough, we’ll need to get him out of here without Ever replaceing out. Or Grandma Varenus.” She shivers. “Ugh. That would be a disaster.”

“My lips are sealed.”

She sashays to the door. “Once you have him set up in the antechamber, come straight to the Great Hall. Don’t be late for the Shade Court’s reception.”

“I won’t be.” As much as I’d like to skip it, I’m obliged to show up and chat pleasantly with Prince Landolin. I just hope he’s grown into a much nicer fae than he was the last time we met, which was an age ago.

“Good,” says Isla, flouncing out of the room with purple and gold flames in the shape of wings flickering behind her, a fire goddess hurrying back to her king. Which leaves me with nothing to do except to gaze down at him.

The Merit king in all his resplendent glory. Pale as death, beautiful as a glittering star.

A dream come true.

What is Isla thinking, leaving me alone with him? Has she lost her mind? I’m not certain yet.

But I have without a doubt lost mine.