The vicious king, p.13
The Vicious King, page 13
He thinks about that as we move on to the West Bed, searching for anything that might resemble a loose stone. “I don’t think my mom would’ve been able to keep it a secret from me all this time, but I suppose it’s possible.”
“If we can’t find what we’re looking for here, it might be worth asking her or anyone else who was around back then.”
“Like Seamus,” he says, his eyebrows raising. “He was my father’s best friend and advisor and he’s like an uncle to us, but I think his loyalty would be to Faerie first. He would’ve done whatever Moira asked and kept her secrets if he thought Faerie’s future depended on it.”
“Sounds like he’s our best bet, then.” Turning my head to the left, I gasp at what I see. “Gods, I can’t believe it.”
“Did you find the stone? Where is it?”
I shake my head. “No, sorry, it’s not that. Come on,” I say, leading him to the far end of the West Bed where I’ve found a piece of my childhood. Hundreds of pale blueish-purple flowers, each with five elongated petals with wavy edges that stretch up toward the sky. I crouch down and cup one of the unique blossoms.
“They’re native to Tír Tairngire. I knew my mom gifted some to a human long before I was born, but I never came across any since being in this realm.” I smile up at him. “I had so much fun with these as a kid.”
“Doing what, making flower crowns?” he asks wryly.
“No, smartass. When I was a kid, we discovered that they react to our power’s heat by forming images. We made a game out of guessing what they’d choose next.”
“Wonder if these would react the same way without Faerie’s magic.”
Nostalgia rises in my chest. Lifting my open palm in front of my face, I summon a small flame, then blow on it. The heat fans out over the tops of the flowers, making them sway slightly as though disturbed by a light breeze, then…nothing.
Straightening, I give a careless shrug to hide my inner child’s disappointment. “Guess we have our answer. Come on, let’s keep looking.”
I start for the South Bed when Finn’s hand catches my wrist. “Taryn.”
Turning back, a zing of excitement rushes through me as the flowers begin to shift. The ones on either side curve toward the ground, turning their blossoms upside-down so that they’re mostly unnoticeable. It leaves a section in the center of four flowers wide that stretches from the front of the bed where we’re standing all the way to the back.
“They made a line,” Finn says.
My brows draw together. “More like a column on a bar graph, but yeah.”
Finn crosses his arms, clearly unimpressed. I can’t say that I blame him. “Maybe the lack of magical environment leads to unimaginative designs.”
“Wait, they’re still moving.” I glance around at the other people milling around the conservatory but no one else seems to notice the shape-shifting flowers. They slowly lean into each other, creating a tighter and narrower column. “Okay, now it’s a line.”
“No,” he says, unfolding his arms and pointing to the far side where a different shape is forming at the end. “It’s an arrow.”
“Oh my gods, Finn, that’s it. I can’t believe I didn’t remember until now. Back home these are called lile lasrach. It means flame lily.”
Our gazes snap together. “Because the petals look like flames. Petal fire.” I nod, then we race around to the other side where the tip of the arrow ends at the edge of the raised bed. “Okay, we only have ‘loosened stone’ and ‘two then three’ left to figure out, and now we have a more concentrated area to search.”
“Don’t you think we probably skipped over the stone part since that came before the arrow?”
“You’re asking the wrong person. Unlike my grandmother, I don’t have the gift of foresight.”
He crosses to the back wall of the conservatory and runs his hand along the wall. While he covers that, I scan the area for anything in groupings of twos or threes. I find several throughout the room but they’re nowhere near the arrow. Finn turns away from the wall and shakes his head. “Nothing.”
I sigh and look down at the floor, but there’s no way any of the floor tiles would be loose. They’d be too noticeable and fixed immediately. That leaves us with… My head turns to where the arrow ends at the lip of the raised bed. I kneel to get a closer look at the small black tiles.
Finn crouches next to me. “See anything?”
“Not yet.” I trail my fingers over the grout lines that span the entire width of the arrow’s head but none of them feel damaged or any different than the ones outside of that perimeter. Sighing in frustration, I sit back on my heels. “I don’t get it. It has to be here.”
“Maybe it was. Someone could’ve discovered whatever it was that was loose and fixed it. Which means whatever we’re searching for may have already been found. Let’s go back to the penthouse and I’ll call Seamus, see if he knows anything.”
Finn braces his hands on his knees and starts to push up but I stop him. “Wait. Let me try something first.”
Licking my lips nervously, I send up a quick prayer to Brigid that this works. My magic feels stronger with every passing hour, but after not being able to use it for so long, my confidence in my abilities is shaken. I rub my fingers against my palms a few times, then hold them out a few inches in front of the low barrier.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes, concentrating on my intention. Then I whisper it into existence. “Creathadh.” Vibrate.
The magic in my blood flows into my hands, sending a wave of energy against my target. When nothing happens, I take another breath and very carefully raise the intensity. If I let too much through it’s possible I won’t just vibrate the tiles, I’ll decimate them and everything else in the vicinity.
Sweat pops out on my brow, and I’m about to give up, when the grout surrounding the very top piece gives way in a tiny shower of dust that lands on the floor. I pull my magic back in and close my hands for good measure as I stare in disbelief.
“Holy shit,” he says.
“Don’t be too impressed. It’s entirely possible I just shook loose a perfectly intact tile that has nothing to do with this.”
“Hey.” Finn uses a finger on my chin to turn my head toward him. When his honey gaze locks onto mine, he brushes his thumb over my cheek and says, “Don’t diminish your gifts, Taryn. I saw the effort it took for you to control that. Whether this pans out or doesn’t, what you did was impressive as hell. Got it?”
Trying not to think about how much his praise means to me, I swallow past the thickness in my throat and force a casual tone. “Got it. Now, are you going to end the suspense, or should we just sit here and contemplate the possibilities?”
A wry grin tilts one corner of his mouth up before he leans in to speak low into my ear. “One of these days, solnyshko, I’m going to bind you in my ropes and find a better use for that smart mouth of yours.”
I don’t get the chance to toss back a retort—not that my brain is capable of anything but static after hearing his deliciously wicked threat—because he pulls away and grabs the barely exposed edges of the tile. I cross my fingers as he wiggles it back and forth to loosen the rest of the grout holding it in place. And then it’s free.
Behind it is a dark, seemingly empty space no larger than a square inch. “Moment of truth.” Finn blows out a breath, then reaches inside with his forefinger. “I feel something.” A second later he’s withdrawing a glass tube with a cork stopper. Inside is a rolled-up piece of—
“Parchment,” I say, staring in awe. “Open it up, let’s see what it says.”
Finn scans the room. “Not here. Let’s get away from these crowds.”
Taking my hand in his, he leads me back through the lobby and outside to an empty alcove along the front of the hotel. At least here we’re not in the middle of a crowd, and with our avoidance glamours still up, no one will pay us any attention.
Satisfied with our position, he removes the cork and tips the vial to let the small roll of paper slide into his palm. Then he carefully unrolls it, revealing faded ink in penmanship that matches Moira’s in the letter and clue Finn received.
As Lugh dips low on LOVE’s cascade,
two reveal where secrets fade.
Past the veil of waters bright,
the sovereign sleeps devoid of light.
With the treasure will be three,
unlocked for thee with destiny’s key.
“It’s another clue.” Excitement thrums in my veins. I look up to gauge Finn’s reaction, but his mind appears to be a million miles away. Half a minute goes by and still nothing. “Finn, you okay?”
He blinks hard as though coming back to himself. “I’m good. Just wish she’d been a little less cryptic this time.”
“Well, whatever these lead to, it’s clear she didn’t want to make it easy for anyone to find. Any thoughts on what’s waiting for us at the end of this mysterious rainbow?”
Finn blows out a breath as he carefully puts the rolled-up parchment back in the tube and corks it. “In the first clue, I wasn’t sure what the last half of the third line meant, since it didn’t describe what we found.”
I nod in agreement. “A vial can be called multiple things, but ‘spire’ wouldn’t be one of them. And since this is our second clue, I’m guessing ‘two then three’ means we’ll have a third and final clue, and that’s how we find the spire. Whatever that is.”
“I was thinking about that, and it could be another word for spear.”
My eyes widen. “She’s leading you to the other half of the Spear of Assal. That’s why you’re the one who saves Faerie, because you make sure Edevane never gets his hands on it.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense. She hid that half in Faerie where neither Edevane nor I can go.”
“Are we positive that’s what she did? Maybe she fae-truthed her way into convincing Cormac that she’d already hidden it before the exile. That’s what I would do.”
“Holy shit, you’re right.” He rubs a hand back and forth over his head a few times, then laughs as though in disbelief of the revelation. “The spear is here. In Vegas.”
SEVENTEEN
FINNIAN
Life is weird. One minute you’re an expendable royal spending all your time training with your friends in the elite squad of warriors that act as security for the crown. Then the next, you’re on some kind of prophetic scavenger hunt to save faekind and possibly having hallucinatory visions. This was not on my bingo card for this year, that’s for damn sure.
We’ve been back at the penthouse for a couple of hours, trying to crack the next clue without much luck. The only part we figured out—or think we did—is the when and where based on the very beginning. As Lugh dips low on LOVE’s cascade…veil of waters…
The fact that ‘love’ is in all caps was notable. Adding that to the cascade and veil of water, she has to be referring to the giant art installation that spells LOVE backdropped by a waterfall inside the Venetian. Lugh is the sun god, and if he’s dipping low, it means the sun is setting. So, we need to be in the Venetian’s Waterfall Atrium at sunset.
Beyond that, we have no ideas.
“Ugh, I can’t think of what else to Google that could give us answers.” Taryn sets my laptop down on the couch cushion beside her and collapses back in defeat next to me. “I hate unsolved mysteries. I couldn’t even watch that show when it was popular. Who wants to know about fascinating phenomena that can’t be explained? It’s so anti-climactic.”
I stop scribbling thoughts in a notebook that by now looks like an ink war zone and shoot her a crooked grin. “Are you saying after all these dead-ends you’re in need of a good climax?”
She answers with a coy smile and climbs into my lap, straddling my thighs and resting her forearms on my shoulders. “Now that you mention it, I am full of a lot of pent-up frustration.”
Taryn presses a hard kiss to my lips. “Mmhmm,” I hum in agreement.
“And since we can’t do anything until tomorrow evening…” Kiss. “And we did such a good job solving the first clue today…” She kisses me again, nipping my lower lip at the end that makes me growl in anticipation and my cock harden beneath her round ass. “You could help me work out the frustration or we could go out and you can show me how you celebrate a job well done in this city.”
Tossing the pen and notebook in the general vicinity of my laptop, I grip the sides of her face and take control. I crush my mouth to hers and part her lips with my tongue. I delve inside and stroke her with the force of every deviant thought racing in my mind. A tiny mewl escapes her as she becomes pliant in my embrace.
“Why don’t we do both,” I say, my voice tight with the amount of restraint it’s taking to hold myself back. “Interested?”
She sounds breathy and seductive when she answers, “Very.”
“Then let’s go, solnyshko. Your fun awaits.”
It’s nearly midnight by the time we get to our destination, but that’s early by Vegas standards. I grab my large duffel bag and walk around the cab to open her door and offer my free hand to help her out. Usually I drive my Rover and use the VIP parking garage, but if this night goes the way I’m hoping, Taryn will be curled into my lap on the way home, sated and sleepy.
She joins me on the sidewalk and stares up at the neon sign that says Devil’s Door. Arching a dubious brow at me, she asks, “You brought me to a strip club?”
I can’t help but chuckle at the disappointment on her gorgeous face. “What kind of male do you take me for?” Placing a proprietary hand on her lower back, I dip my head to speak into her ear. “I brought you to a sex club.”
She barks out a surprised laugh. “Well, color me intrigued. I can’t wait to see what all the rage is about.”
“Before we go in, give me an idea of how you want this to go. Do you want to simply observe and see where the night leads as two consenting adults, or…”
“Or?”
“Or do you want this to be a scene? Meaning we’re exploring things in a D/s dynamic, though a more relaxed version, since we haven’t established anything formal. It’s a way of testing the waters, seeing what calls to you.”
She chews on her lip as she thinks. “So nothing extreme, no whips and chains or any of that?”
“Nothing like that,” I promise. “I’m very good at being tuned in to what a sub is and isn’t comfortable with. But if at any point you don’t want to do something or you’re uncomfortable, say ‘red’ and everything stops. Observe or play, it’s up to you.”
An impish grin spreads across her face. “I’ve never been one to sit on the sidelines. I’m down to play if you are.”
Tipping her chin up with my thumb and forefinger, I say, “When it comes to you, I’m down for everything and then some. Come on.”
She lets me tuck her into my side and lead her next door to a place called Hell’s Kitchen. The storefront is designed to look like a café in Italy, complete with painted backdrops in the display windows that don’t allow you to see inside. But once we step through the door, it turns into the Red-Light District in Amsterdam.
True to its facade, this used to be an empty restaurant that served as the secret entrance to Devil’s Dungeon. But when the Marceau werewolf pack took over ownership a few months ago as part of a deal Tiernan made for their help in capturing Edevane, they decided to turn the space into a store. It was a smart business move. With the proximity to the strip club next door—which they also run now—and the club members having to come through here, there’s no shortage of customers wanting shiny new toys.
Hell’s Kitchen strikes a good balance between the seediest of sex shops and the discreet upscale boutiques, surrounding customers with an air of hedonistic luxury. Dim lighting casts a seductive glow on polished wood floors and velvet displays. Glass cabinets present a myriad of toys in smooth silicone and polished metal, and a lingerie section near the back features mannequins adorned in decadent lace and leather corsets. The scent of exotic spices and vanilla lingers in the air, enhanced by soft, sultry music that creates an intimate ambiance.
“Nice sex shop, Verran. Still not a sex club, though,” she says, her eyes scanning the products.
We’re not using glamours to disguise ourselves since Marceau changed the business to others only, but she’s changed her eye color to match the golden color of the Darks to blend in. She’s no less stunning for it, and yet I already miss the soft lavender that’s uniquely hers in this realm.
“I know that, brat.” I pinch one of her ass cheeks, and when she gasps in indignation, I shrug. “For the rest of the night, if you make a smartass remark you get an ass that smarts. Consider that your warning,” I say with a wink. “The club is downstairs and the entrance is through the back. But first, go pick out something to wear. No street clothes allowed.”
She bites her lip and hesitates. “You’re not going to choose for me? I thought that’s what Doms do with their subs.”
“Some do, some don’t. If this wasn’t your first time in a club, I would likely want to. I might choose something I know you’d feel sexy as fuck in, or I might choose something I know would put you on the edge of discomfort without crossing your boundaries.” My eyes trail down her body, imagining all the naughty possibilities, then rein my imagination in. “But tonight I want you comfortable. Pick some things out, try them on, and when you’ve made your choice, let me know.”
She claps her hands and lets out a tiny squeal of delight before making a bee line for the lingerie section. I wait leaning against a nearby wall as she starts to browse, my attention divided between watching her and thinking about all the things set into motion by my grandmother, Barwyn, and another elder fae I think may have been the one to plant the second clue according to a vision I had when I opened the parchment.
Moira must have spelled the clue to give me another piece of the puzzle, but I didn’t recognize the male. Maybe Barwyn knows who he is. I probably should’ve made arrangements to talk to him after receiving the letter, but I find it difficult to think clearly around Taryn.
