Caged: A Fae Fantasy Romance (Fae Magic Book 4) Read online

  It stole all the success that had buoyed her into this endeavor and left her flat with no energy as night fell and the miles seemed only to grow longer. She stumbled, and there was a rustling above. The purple eyes of a white snow tiger gleamed from the leafless branches of a winter-killed tree. Siobhan moved fast, throwing up a wall of ice just as the beast sprang at her. It hit the solid surface with a mighty thwack and slid down, its eyes blazing from the other side of the clear barrier.

  It gathered its muscles, preparing to leap. She braced herself, pulling her sword and adding another clear coat of ice to the wall. But then it snarled, turned, and stalked away, tail held high like a flag.

  She was shaking and grateful that she still had some power left to defend herself after all the power she’d wasted on trying to get a portal going. Elvatians pulled on their Gift as easy as breathing. She’d been making snow flowers in her cradle, but she’d never spent this much useless effort on something so difficult for her. Now she was exhausted, despite the extra magic from the tattoo, and she needed to eat, rest, and recharge.

  She used the energy she had left to build an igloo and crawled inside. She lit a fire in the center and pulled her sleeping bag out, letting it grow to full size. Her dinner of travel jerky and an apple was dry and unappetizing, but it was nutritious. She crawled in to her temporary bed, feeling lost and alone and missing the warmth of Doyle’s body curled next to hers.

  A wave of homesickness washed over her. She missed the dark safety of the lair where the smell of Doyle would still be lingering on her sheets. She missed the cozy nights playing chess by the fire and his attempts at cooking.

  She tossed and turned. What would the dragon do to him? Would he beat him? She’d left him to take all the blame, and while that had seemed justified when she thought she could take on the queen, now she wasn’t so sure. She was a failure at opening a simple portal without help. How could she possibly force Maeve to tell her where Bosco was? Let alone change a system that had put boys into the hands of a pedophile for years.

  She pretended she was safe in bed with Doyle, curled in his arms like she had been the night before. Slowly, she fell into a fitful sleep.

  DOYLE FLEW OVER THE moonlit trees of the forest. Finding Siobhan wasn’t difficult. The dragon magic he’d embedded at the base of her skull tied her to him more effectively than any vow. If he wanted to, he could compel her to return with him. But that wasn’t what he wanted now.

  He settled down in a clearing a short distance from her igloo and shifted, putting on the clothes he’d carried in a small pack. She’d cloaked her shelter well but it stood out to him like a lit beacon, calling him to her side.

  No, tracking her wasn’t the issue. The real issue was how to get her back with him. He could, of course, force her to go. He was physically and magically stronger than her. And of course, there was the dragon mark. But if he did that, the trust she’d shown in him would be broken beyond repair. And he’d already felt what it was like without her shining presence in his life.

  He wanted—no, he needed—for her to come back willingly. And he could see no way to do that but to tell her the truth. Which he couldn’t do. Unlike her vow, made under duress, his vow went deep. If he told her the truth, the consequences would be devastating.

  He’d lose his bond to his brothers, to the egg, to his soul. He’d fracture his Gift.

  And without magic, he’d eventually wither and die. Dragons, more than any other creature in the universe, were made of magic. They needed it to survive and thrive.

  He couldn’t tell her.

  He used the stealth that came so easily to him and approached the igloo without even disturbing the tiger lurking in the branches above. With a wave of his hand the solid ice became clear as glass and he could see through to her sleeping figure, curled up in her sleeping bag.

  She looked tired and so much younger than her years. He snorted. Compared to him she was a babe in the woods. She thought she’d seen betrayal, but she had no idea.

  What he did he did for an entire race’s survival, not just for a boy—or even a hundred boys. Could she understand?

  She wore her heart on her sleeve, every emotion easily read by someone like him. Or someone like Maeve. She stood no chance against the queen, but she was trying anyway.

  Foolish.

  Admirable.

  He waved his hand again making the igloo solid and disengaged the spell guarding the entrance. He crawled in.

  “Who’s there?” A ball of light appeared overhead and he caught sight of her widened eyes and the gleam of her blade, raised and ready.

  “It’s me.”

  “Oh.” Her face sagged and she put the sword back down at her side. “Of course you found me. I should have known. I’m a failure at everything else. Why not running away as well?”

  He sighed and indicated her sleeping bag. “Can I come in?”

  Indecision flashed across her face, followed by resignation. “You might as well.” She opened the zipper and he stripped off his clothes and slipped inside.

  He was wedged right against her. “It’s a little tight.”

  “It’s what we’ve got.”

  “You know, I do have something else.” He reached into his discarded jacket and pulled out a tiny white piece of fluff. He blew on it, and it grew into a sheepskin rug. He laid it on the igloo floor and they scooted over onto it, pulling the opened sleeping bag over the top. “There, that should keep us warm.” He gave her fully dressed figure a raised eyebrow. “You might be a little too warm.”

  She gave him a stern look. “I suppose that’s an invitation to be as naked as you are?”

  “Would you be surprised if it were?”

  Her small laugh and smile had his spirits rising. “No.” She took off her clothes and folded them neatly on top of her boots, leaving her sword within easy reach. She climbed in next to him and he reached for her. She stiffened, then relaxed, and let him pull her into his chest. She fit, like a missing piece to his chess game. The gnawing anxiety that had plagued him since he’d woken up to find her gone, eased.

  “I’m not coming back, you know.”

  “Still think you can take Maeve?”

  “No.” She sighed against his skin. “But I can’t stay with Atavantador. He’ll take away the extra power you gave me and I’ll be unable to ever stand against her. At least this way when I stand against her I’ll do some kind of damage. Maybe it will be enough.”

  “You need time to learn. And you need a teacher, or you’ll just be another of her victims.”

  “But I can’t do any of that if he takes this away.” She touched the tiny dragon on her neck. “Why did you give it to me if it wasn’t yours to give? It comes with so many problems.”

  “I wanted to keep you safe and the best way to do that is to teach you to be strong.”

  “But I’m not strong if I depend on a dragon. Who knows what they think? He’s defending the queen. What kind of person does that?”

  He squeezed her tight. “A desperate person.”

  She sat up. “How could he be desperate? He’s a dragon.”

  Doyle looked at her in the light of the glowing sphere. She was beautiful, so young and idealistic. She’d never understand, but he had to tell her what he could.

  “You saw our world. A desert, populated by a few hundred, it was once lush and wet and the home of a thriving population. A paradise. Dragons need magic, and just like Underhill, Vollenth flowed with it. But it started to dry up. Small amounts at first, then more. Fighting erupted between clans. Then war. Soon it was chaos. It wasn’t until too late that we realized that it was one dragon who’d stolen the magic, stolen it all. And by then, it was too late, he’d taken so much that he and his army were undefeatable.”

  The piles of the dead, their flesh rotting into bone graveyards where once there had been settlements. The water drying up, dryads unable to maintain their springs without magic to feed their spirits. Then the dust came, blowing across the land,
heating it up until even polar ice caps had shrunk into tiny huddled islands.

  She stroked his face, bringing him back. “But what does that have to do with Maeve?”

  “We came here, to Underhill, to start over. I can’t tell you all the details. I wish I could. Please understand, if you can. Just wait a little while, before you try to take her on. Take the time to learn and grow and master your magic.” He touched the back of her neck and a throb of magic tingled at his touch. “If you can wait, you can have Maeve, the Winter Palace, all of it.”

  “You want me to trust you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Without telling me what’s going on? When you’ve made decisions for me all along without giving me enough information?” She flopped down onto her side of the fur. “That’s a hell of a lot to ask.”

  “It is.” He reached for her, pulling her back into his arms. She came, but he felt the resistance in her body. “Sleep on it. In the morning make your decision. I won’t make you stay. But if you go, I’ll have to take this.” He stroked the little dragon and at his touch it lit up the darkness, every scale sparkling.

  “You would leave me defenseless.”

  “I’ll make sure you get back to your village safely. But you won’t have the power to take on Maeve.”

  “It’s not a choice.” Her tone was bitter, like the taste of loss already rising in his throat.

  “It is. You can leave with what you came with. Or you can stay.” He didn’t finish the thought. She could stay and have the power—and him.

  A tear slipped down her cheek, landing hot on his chest. “But I won’t be able to save anybody.”

  “You’ll be saving me.” He kissed her cheek, the taste of her grief salty on his tongue.

  She doused the light and he held her as her breathing slowed. He’d given her what he could. Would it be enough?

  SIOBHAN HELD ON TO Doyle as if it were the last time. Because it could be. Tomorrow she could be home in her village with her parents for the first time in a century. She missed them, but now that she knew what she knew, could she look them in the eyes and act as if nothing had happened?

  Her parents, her village, and all the surrounding villages, had handed over their sons in exchange for their own safety. Someone had to have known or suspected. But no one had done anything.

  She could go home. Or she could go with Doyle and face the dragon.

  Now he definitely had known about Maeve, but how moral was a dragon? Did he understand what was going on?

  Doyle had implied there was more to Atavantador than she understood. He’d asked her to trust him. And inherent in that trust was the offering for her to grow her magic.

  She relaxed, knowing her choice. She couldn’t take the queen on today, but she could in the future. And maybe, just maybe, she would have not just Doyle on her side, but a dragon.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Doyle hummed a little tune to himself as he locked the door to the dragon’s lair. Siobhan had come back with him, and the relief he’d felt at having her choose to trust him was exhilarating. Even so, he gave the door an extra wash of magic, just in case. He’d never truly worried about Siobhan coming in here before, but now, she just might. She had little to lose and everything to gain by confronting the dragon, and he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

  She was exhausted by her day’s travel, so she was resting. And that was good with him. She was truly safe and now was the time to go check on all the other kettles he had over the fire—the egg, Maeve, and Bosco’s army.

  He flew out into the overcast morning, the air was damp and cold with that particular scent that said a blizzard was coming, and it was coming in fast. He should go back and curl up with Siobhan and spend the day by the fire, but he needed to know what was going on so he could plan.

  He flew northeast, over the lands threatened by Bosco. Below, the battle raged. The black and gold banners of Prince Kian’s knights battled the large white bears of the north, a mass of trolls, and only one or two of the queen’s own men raced here and there, directing the battle. She was holding back her Tuathan troops, likely to protect the palace itself.

  This was the battle that would mark Bosco’s predations into the queen’s official demesne. Once they passed the official line, Maeve would be after the dragon to do something. But he wouldn’t until Bosco was at the palace. His oath was clearly defined. Bosco would get there soon enough, but not today. Doyle wheeled around heading north. The little queen was safe for the day from the army, but he wasn’t so sure about Maeve herself. And he had to know.

  THE LAIR WAS QUIET. Doyle had left her to rest, but she couldn’t sleep. Siobhan got dressed and slipped outside the side entrance that she’d struggled so hard to leave the day before. She didn’t know how much longer she’d have the extra dragon power. Despite Doyle’s opinion, Atavantador could take it away from her at any moment. She had to spend this time practicing how to operate a portal and how to destroy a queen while she still had the power.

  She called the tiny frost fae and two of them zipped to her. “Where’s Frosheth?” She looked hard, but couldn’t locate the snow-colored fairy. Icene chimed that Frosheth was elsewhere. The tiny fae didn’t have much concept of here and there, or time for that matter. They lived day to day, moment to moment. She was pleased that they even remembered who she was. She shrugged and prepared to practice her shield.

  Again and again she set her shield, and Icene and Chrystal threw snowballs at her as the sky grew dark and cloudy. After she successfully deflected the snowballs, the fairies took turns blasting her with first their individual magics, then their combined magics. It took all morning, but by the time her stomach began to growl for lunch, her confidence had returned. She might not be able to skip steps, like she had when Atavantador and Doyle had helped her, but she now had a solid magical shield. And with the help the fairies had given her practicing her shield, she was ready to tackle a portal. After lunch.

  She had plenty of power to draw on, but controlling that power was exhausting and after her big day yesterday, she was drained. She took out the food she’d brought from the cave and ate, watching the fairies flit here and there, their wings glowing brighter in the quickly darkening day. A small flake touched her cheek.

  “Snow’s coming in, girls. You’ve been a big help, but it’s time to try the big one.” Time to try a real portal. The fairies flitted away, giving her plenty of room. They didn’t have much in their heads, but even they knew when it was time to leave.

  It was now or never. First she pulled a shield over her own person. She’d known how to do that before, but this shield was stronger. “Okay, Siobhan, you can do this. You’ve done it before.”

  Yes, with Doyle assisting. Or later, when the dragon had held all the magic inside his own shield. Now she had to control her personal shield, open the portal without letting the mists out into the world, and focus on a destination. She chose the rocks below that marked the path at the edge of the woods. They looked like they’d been sculpted by the gnomes, possibly carved with strange shapes and animals like the wooden doors inside Cairngloss. But out here they’d been weathered by ice and snow and time into twin worn pillars that could have been the frozen shapes of men. Or very tall dwarves. Or maybe even the gnomes themselves.

  She held them in her mind, held her shield, and reached for the portal. It opened, several feet closer to her than she’d expected, and she jumped. The shadowy grey mist coiled out, looking almost the color of night as it reached for the world, hungry and searching. She pushed back at it, forcing it to stay within the open mouth of the gate. And it worked.

  The portal stayed open.

  She was sweating, the first of the snowflakes melting on her face. Fear had her shaking as she took her steps into the portal. Her brain was working overtime. Hold the shield. Think of the stones. Manage the time. Keep the mists at bay. She stepped into the void and walked out into the abyss.

  The air was a mass of fingers and teeth reaching for
her, trying to grab her, but she held fast and let the door close behind her. Now she had only one hope left, that she could hold the stones in her mind and get there. She walked forward into the mist, each step only as good as her own personal shielding. And then something called to her, and she knew, that was where she needed to go. She reached and twisted and the door opened. She fell out at the feet of the twin pillars, the portal snapping shut behind her with a frustrated wail.

  “I did it!” She jumped up and down. The snow had increased to massive flurries. She couldn’t see the top of the mountain of Cairngloss. “Ladies, are you here?”

  From high on the side of the mountain, a bright green light and a bright blue light flew down to her. “I did it!”

  She wanted to shout it from the mountain top. She wanted to share her success with Doyle. He’d be so proud. Even the dragon would be proud of her. She hadn’t needed anyone’s help to keep the shield steady, just the boost of power and her own Gift.

  She’d messed up a little on the time and been in the portal longer than she thought and now the snow was falling fast with the tiny sharp flakes that cut your cheeks, and the harsh wind of a blizzard.

  “Guess we’d better portal back up the mountain.” A flash of white glimmered in the sky. Frosheth plummeted down. Her frantic chiming was a disordered mess and her wings moved so fast Siobhan could barely see them. “Slow down. I can’t understand you.”

  The other fae chimed back and forth and Siobhan began to make sense of the garbled voices. A battle. Men. Fighting.

  “There’s an army? Coming here?” She had to warn the dragon. She got ready to open the portal but Frosheth got in front of her, her wings buzzing nearly against Siobhan’s nose. She backed up. “Okay, there’s more.”