Caged: A Fae Fantasy Romance (Fae Magic Book 4) Page 8

  “Tell her I’m on my way.” Before he could change his mind the fairy took to the air and was gone. Doyle flew back to the den. He wanted to spend the rest of the day playing with Siobhan’s new power, helping her explore what she could do. Teaching her the ins and outs of how to access the magic that he’d gifted her. And most of all, enjoying the rush of pleasure on her face.

  But now, he had to go to Maeve’s and try not to kill the icy bitch.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I’ll be fine,” Siobhan told Doyle. Again. He was hovering over her like a mother hen with only one chick and all she wanted was for him to leave and give her a chance to have some time alone. “You go with Atavantador and I’ll practice with this thing.”

  She lifted her hand to rub the ache of the dragon on her neck, remembering to stop just short of touching it. She’d just begun to trust him. Now she didn’t know how she felt about him not telling her how the tattoo would embed into her body, like a parasite finding a home.

  “I won’t be gone long. At least I don’t think so.” He paced back and forth in the small space in front of the fireplace, making the cluttered bedroom seem even more cluttered. “I can’t think of what’s going on. She’s just exercising her power again.”

  “Could it be Bosco?” Fear or hope. She wasn’t sure which emotion was strongest when she thought about her brother.

  “Doubtful.” He smiled gently. “I’ll...We’ll be back soon.”

  “You just said that.” She wanted him gone, so she could test out her new powers all on her own. “Now go, before you have to explain to your master what’s taking you so long. No one wants an upset dragon.”

  His lip twitched into a half-smile. “He’ll wait for me.”

  There was something behind his words, some half-meaning that she was missing, but she was so anxious to be by herself with no one watching her, that she filed it away to think about later.

  “Stay inside the caves.” He frowned, his expression worried. “You’re still vulnerable.”

  He touched her hand and a jolt of electric warmth raced through her. She put a few feet between them and fought down the attraction. There was something chemical between them, something that drew her to him, even while her common sense told her to be careful.

  He was going to the Winter Court where the queen might do anything. Yes, she was sure the dragon would protect his servant, but still, he was just a servant. How far would Atavantador go to protect Doyle, she had no idea. If he didn’t come back, she’d...miss him?

  “I’ll be fine. Now go.” He turned to go and she reached for him, wanting to touch him one last time, despite her better judgment. “Wait, just in case.” She stepped forward and kissed him on his left cheek and then the right, the formal farewell of her people. But as her lips brushed his cheeks, that heated energy rushed through her, and she backed away fast.

  He touched his cheek. “What was that for?”

  “Stay safe.”

  Something flashed over his face, she almost thought it was wonder. He touched his cheek, and then he left the room.

  She sank back onto her bed, her cheeks feverish. “Why did I do that?” she whispered to the air. But there was no one to respond. She was alone in the lair for the first time since she’d arrived, and even though this was what she’d wanted—what she needed—it still felt hollow and empty.

  “Enough. Quit wallowing. Time to practice.” She grabbed her jacket and sword and headed out. She couldn’t practice ice magic in the library, not the way she needed to. She was heading outside.

  Despite the fact that she hadn’t promised to stay in the caves, she had a tiny flash of guilt as she left the room. She pushed it down. She didn’t just have herself or Doyle to think about. There was Bosco.

  The lights in the corridor ended after the third door and it was dark after that. She took a deep breath. Time to practice. She’d made glow lights before, but this time, when she made the bright ball of cool light in her hand, the magic rushed through her. She could let this run for days and still have enough power to do whatever she wanted. It was a heady feeling.

  Power. Something she’d never had, never wanted. And here she was with so much it almost scared her. The trip through the caverns was easier this time. She knew where she was going and the irksome hobgoblins stayed away. She wondered if they sensed the change in her power.

  Outside it was daylight, a watery sun trying to get through heavy clouds. She perched on a rock just outside the ledge of the cavern. The exhilaration of being outside rushed over her. She drew in large lung-fulls of the chilly air, smelling the moisture of a storm on the way and feeling the crackle of expectation.

  “Okay, what should I do?” she asked the empty mountain side. “Ice castles?”

  When she was a little girl she’d dreamed of being strong enough to build play castles from ice, but all she could manage were flowers and small sculpted birds. Once she’d tried to build a small house. It had taken her a month to form the blocks of ice and create not just one floor, but two, with a little peaked roof and a tiny balcony. It had stayed for the rest of the winter season, finally melting away into a puddle of mud and she hadn’t tried since.

  But now she called upon her Gift and it came effortlessly. The power rushed through her, taking the moisture from the storm-laden air and pouring a foundation on the steep hillside. It wasn’t there—and then it was. The structure rose, not brick by slow brick, but walls rising to the sky. It took her three tries to get a house that would stand, but eventually she had it, crooked floors and all.

  A second floor, stairs, and a large turret flew into being, with a detailed shake shingle roof and tiny hearts cut out of shutters.

  The clouds cracked and a shaft of sunlight shone down, sparkling on the ice. She could only stare at her lopsided creation, the light glinting into her eyes.

  “I did it!” she shouted. The sound was loud on the empty hillside. She stared at the tiny house and wished she had someone to share it with. Bosco, her friends, Doyle. A warm hum filled her at the thought of showing him her accomplishment and how they could celebrate.

  No. She pushed that away. Her attraction to him was only physical. She had to hold it back until she knew more of who he was and if she could trust him. But deep inside the longing still lived.

  From down the hill near where the trees began, she caught a movement. Tiny flickers in the snow flashing in the sun came closer, flying at her with rapid speed. She threw up her hands in defense. A sheet of sheer ice formed in front of her, blocking her attackers. They pulled up short, tiny wings fluttering in frustration on the other side of the barrier.

  “Oh!” She laughed. “I’m so happy to meet you.” She willed the barrier down, amazed at how fast it had gone up. Doyle was right, she definitely needed to practice or she’d end up hurting someone without meaning to. “Sorry, I didn’t realize what your were at first.” The ice wall melted away and the three frost fae winged toward her, their voices chiming in excitement.

  They were the wild fae, like her friend, Freelana. The kind she’d played with as a child racing around creating patterns on the lake, and listening to them chime made her both happy and sad at the same time.

  They seemed to be white on the snow, but Icene was a pale green of the edge of sea ice, and Chrystal a light blue. Only Frosheth was the true white of fresh snow and Siobhan had to look several times for her, losing her at the edge of her vision on the white of the ice walls as they flew through the little house, exploring and playing like children.

  The sun was just starting to drop when the three fae got distracted and flew off into the woods. Siobhan took a seat on her stone perch and thought about her problems. The tattoo still felt strange on her neck, but it had melded into her own Gift in such a way that it felt like she’d always had it. She held out her hand, creating dancing snowflakes to twist and turn in the air over her palm. She was still mad at Doyle for not telling her how this magic worked before letting her take it into her body, but
her anger had been tempered by her afternoon playing in the ice house with her new friends. After all, he’d been worried about her defending herself, and she had to take that into account.

  The sun hid behind the clouds again and a trace of the late day’s cold blew over her face. She shivered, but not entirely with the cold. She could give it up, and maybe she should. All magic came with a price, even if it was a gift. As much as she wanted the power, she had to think about what that price might be. Maybe she should hand it back to Doyle and go back to being a simple maid who could only decorate and not defend. But if she did her odds of finding Bosco and helping him out of whatever mischief he’d gotten into were nil.

  But if she kept it...A world of possibilities opened up in front of her.

  She had no idea what the repercussions would be. And there were bound to be repercussions. No one gave a gift of this magnitude without expecting something back. And the highhanded way Doyle had done it, without considering the way she’d feel about it, that was something else she had to consider.

  She’d just begun to trust him. He’d done nothing but take care of her, but maybe she shouldn’t be depending on him. Maybe she should be depending on herself.

  The sun was almost down and it was getting cold. The storm that had threatened earlier had never appeared. It still hovered beyond the crest of the mountain, held back by the updraft. It was time to go. She melted her small ice castle back down to the ground, leaving no evidence of her creation. It made her sad, but she didn’t want to leave it out here where some spy of the queen might see it. It had served its purpose. She now knew—she could raise and destroy in a single afternoon what had taken her a month to create before.

  She headed for the cave, filled with new resolve. She needed this power. She had to keep it, no matter what. She’d deal with Doyle’s expectations, and any other fallout, when it happened. She had to. Or lose the one chance she had to find out what had really happened to her little brother.

  Chapter Twelve

  For the second time in a fortnight, Doyle flew over the courtyard of the Winter Palace. On his last visit he’d been unable to pinpoint how Maeve was getting stronger, but he’d make sure to figure that out this time. He had to. Even from this distance he felt the life-pulse of the little dragon queen deep under the center of the complex, connected to him by his magic. Her pulse was fast. It had definitely sped up since his last visit two weeks ago. Not so fast that she’d be hatching immediately, but time was now of the essence.

  Especially since Maeve’s own tendrils of power were rooted deeply into each and every palace wall, glowing to his inner sight like parasitic ivy eating away at his own power. When the hell had she gotten this strong and why had she embedded herself into the physical structure of the complex?

  No more screwing around. Given the strong pulse of the baby queen, he had weeks, maybe a month or two to find out if he could kill Maeve and save the dragon queen without collapsing the entire complex of the Winter Court.

  There were people everywhere on the grounds, many more than usual and he frowned. Something was going on. Men and women of the guard were practicing in his normal landing spot. They scurried for cover as the wind from his beating wings pushed spears and shields to the ground.

  “What’s going on?” he asked one of the women, as she picked herself out of a winter-green hedge, giving him a dirty look.

  She scooped up her loose helmet from the ground beside her and pushed it back over the pointed tips of her ears. “There’s an army headed here. The queen says we have to be prepared to fight.” Without another word she picked up her spear and joined the rest of her unit, resuming her sparring with another guard.

  Doyle frowned and headed for the front doors of the throne room. Had Maeve finally gone crazy with her extra power? No army would come this far north.

  He made his way through the large double doors and into the throne room where the same frenetic activity outside made the space a challenge to cross. Luckily he was twenty times the size of anyone else and despite some bumps and knocking a page over, he made his way to the throne.

  Maeve stopped her conversation with her head of the guard. How she could have the balls to stare down at him when his face was three feet higher than his(her) head, he’d never know, but she did and did it well.

  “I sent that fairy hours ago. Where the hell have you been, dragon?”

  “I had other things to do. Napping, for instance.” He yawned, showing his very sharp teeth and wide jaw. The guard standing next to her paled.

  “Napping?” Her eyes flared. “My kingdom is under attack and you’re napping? What the hell do I pay you for anyway?”

  “That’s just it, you didn’t pay me.”

  “I most certainly did. I gave you a bag of treasure and that village girl. She might be a lowly village girl, but she was Tuathan. Tell me her power wasn’t a tasty snack.”

  He swallowed the anger at her description of Siobhan. “You owe me gold, not some sniveling girl.”

  “You’ve sworn to protect me and now I’m under attack. You have to come when you’re called.”

  Doyle moved fast and pushed his head into the queen’s face. Maeve shrank back against the back of her throne, her pupils contracting with alarm. She called power and it raced into her, lighting her up like the Northern Lights.

  Even while he prepped his defense, a part of his brain was filing away the important fact that she’d had to pull from the tendrils she’d placed into the palace itself. Ah, a weakness. She’d grown in power, but she’d stored it in the palace. She was trapped here, tied into the palace for its power. Power she wouldn’t have if he hadn’t accessed it and tied into the stones. She wasn’t as Gifted as he was, she’d taken advantage of what he’d left to protect the egg.

  Maybe all he had to do was entice her out of the complex, separate her from the palace, and she’d be unable to draw from her store.

  He let his voice drop into its lowest register, speaking from the large hollow in his chest. “Let’s get this straight, Your Majesty.” Doyle ignored the guard racing up the steps, sword shaking, and the various spears and pointy objects coming at him from all sides. “I swore to protect the Winter Court, not you. Just because you are the current queen here doesn’t mean I have to come running every time you get your pantilettes in a twist.”

  It was almost comical to watch her evaluating the odds. She was actually very young in experience, despite her thousand or so years, and showed every thought on her face. How she’d risen to power was a mystery. She’d never have made it as a dragon queen. She would have been devoured before she’d hit puberty.

  A surge of confidence and power raced across her face.

  “Do you dare to attack me?” he hissed, mantling his wings in the confined space of the court. “Think again, oh queen, before you violate our bond, fragile as it is.”

  “Guards.” She waved away the bristle of swords and spears aimed at his sides.

  Her power eased off and he let his wings subside. “Good.” He leaned back, giving her some space. “Now, what’s this ridiculous idea you have about an army coming here?”

  “I foresaw them amassing at Caer Bol. Give or take the weather, they’ll be here before the month is out.”

  “That’s Prince Kian’s army.” He snorted. “They’ve been using Caer Bol as a launching station for his war on the Black Court for months. He wouldn’t launch a campaign up here. He’d be fighting on two fronts. Even if he is a bit arrogant, he’s not stupid. I watched him for years when he was a prisoner in Cairngloss.” Watched the prince moan and wail about his imprisonment and try every spell known to man, but never approach the dragon who might very well have been able to fix it. Just went to show how little the Tuathan really understood about dragons and their capabilities.

  Her eyes flashed ice. “He’s coming. I’ve seen it.”

  “It’s winter. The lights of the Na Fir-Chlis are too active—he can’t portal in. And can you imagine the expense and d
ifficulty marching an army this far?” Farther south, near Cairngloss where he lived, portals had no trouble, but due to the fickle lights that danced in the north, portals couldn’t be fixed here. It was damned difficult to even keep a small, temporary one stable enough to know you’d end up in the place you planned to. “You can rest easy. It would take someone as powerful as myself to get this close to the palace. And that’s not Kian.”

  Maeve’s face turned a bright shade of red and she squeezed the arms of her throne. “If you’d been flying patrols over the forest you’d know he’s been sending out scouts. They’re coming here.” Her voice was tight with anger. “And I have no doubt he’ll go to Cairngloss and take that over and have a second base of operations north of the Black Court.”

  He hadn’t bothered flying east over the Pine Forest in the direction of the old troll-kin fortress of Caer Bol, not for months. He’d been too busy trying to figure out how to dethrone Maeve and steal his little egg out from under her skinny ass.

  “He had enough trouble getting out of Cairngloss. He won’t be coming back soon.” Doyle gave Maeve a penetrating look and her gaze flickered to the side. “There’s something else going on here. What aren’t you telling me?”

  The queen looked him straight in the eye, a sure sign she was trying to manipulate him. “I simply need you to fly out there and take them all out. That way I—and the Winter Court—will be protected.”

  He sat back on his haunches and laughed. “Caer Bol is not part of your demesne, nor is it part of Cairngloss. You can’t expect me to fly out of our territory and attack an army for no reason.”

  “But I have a reason. He’s coming here and I’m in danger!”

  Doyle started to turn away, sending courtiers fleeing in his wake. “Call me if you have a real danger to the palace. Otherwise, I’m not your slave.”

  “No, wait!” He turned back. Maeve was half off of her throne, her hand reaching out to him. “There’s something else.”