The vicious king, p.22
The Vicious King, page 22
I look to my brother, the flare of his nostrils all the confirmation I need to know he smells it too. A chill trips down my spine, but I’m more than ready to face down whatever’s on the other side of this door.
The Woulfe brothers silently count to three, then we push our way into the room. We stand on guard, our muscles tense, our stances ready to spring into action. But no one jumps out, and no one is waiting, poised to fight us. Staying alert, we take in the scene.
As the room where the high rollers won and lost fortunes, I’m not surprised that it’s even more opulent than where we came from. But there’s no time to appreciate the details, because at a glance we know one thing is for certain: we’re too late.
On the other side of the room, the broken remains of a display case cover the floor. Among the shattered glass and splintered wood lies a spear, broken in half and discarded next to the limp body of an older male. Slumped on his side, his long, white hair covers his face, and his outstretched arm rests in the pool of blood seeping from his chest wound.
I move to help him, but Finn stops me. “Not yet. It could be a trap. Connor?”
“On it,” Connor says, handing his gun over to his brother. Then he magically shifts. His clothes magically disappear as russet-colored fur replaces smooth skin, and he lands on all fours in the form of a massive wolf with paws nearly as big as my head.
I’ve never been this close to a wolf shifter, and I find myself properly awestruck watching Connor run the perimeter of the room, scenting different areas. The tension in the air is palpable as we wait for him to finish while a person lies mortally wounded, possibly already gone.
Seemingly satisfied that we’re not in danger of being ambushed, Connor approaches the male and nudges him with his nose. He grunts in response. Connor takes a few steps back and sits on his haunches, which is apparently the sign for “all clear” because Finn releases my arm and the group rushes forward.
Conall meets his brother’s bright golden eyes and nods. “He says he’s alive, but he doesn’t have long.”
I blink in surprise. “How do you know that?”
He walks over to a wall and yanks down a velvet tapestry. “Shifters in a family are telepathic while in animal form, but our twin bond allows it even if only one of us shifts.” He hurries back and hands me the bunched-up fabric. “Put this under his head. Finn, let’s get him straightened out.”
The male groans as they gently roll him onto his back while I place the makeshift pillow beneath his head. “There you go,” I say softly. “Nice and easy, we got you.”
Being careful of any potential head wounds, I use a finger to brush his long hair away from his face…and my heart stops.
“Holy shit,” Finn says. “This is the guy I saw in my vision placing the clue at the Bellagio for Moira.”
Tears blur my vision as he opens his eyes a mere sliver. Barely enough to see the familiar lavender pools staring up at me. “Tar…yn…”
All gazes land on me. Concern lines Finn’s face as he asks, “Who is this?”
“His name is Garyth.” A sire lost… “Moira wasn’t referring to a dead king. She was referring to a lost father.” Centuries of heartache and longing knot in my throat. “My lost father.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
TARYN
The world narrows down to the trembling hand of my father clutching the spear wound in his chest. The sharp tang of blood mixes with the ancient smell of the room, every breath I take feeling like shards of glass.
His voice is barely more than a whispered rasp. “Mo iníon…luachmhar.” My precious daughter.
A thousand memories flood my mind—his laughter echoing in the royal gardens, the warmth of his embrace on cold nights, his stories of battles and bravery that fueled my own warrior spirit. Seeing him here, after so long, and in such a state, tears at my soul.
“I’m here, Athair,” I say, my voice breaking on the Faerish word for father. I clutch his hand, willing my strength into him, as if that alone can keep him with me. “I’m right here.”
Eyes that match mine, though dim, swim with relief and a lifetime of love. His fingers twitch in my grasp, his breaths shallow and labored, each one a struggle. I hold on tighter, my tears falling onto his blood-soaked shirt. “Stay with me, Athair,” I beg. “Please.”
“Bryn,” Finn shouts, tearing my father’s shirt to expose his chest.
The sight sends a cold shock through me, evoking an anguished gasp. The wound is a jagged, gaping tear, dark with clotted blood and raw edges. Finn moves to my side as Bryn kneels with my father between us. I feel Dmitri’s presence at my back, standing sentry over me in case I need him, while Conall and Connor, still in his wolf form, watch the scene from a respectful distance.
Caiden steps closer. “Bryn, this isn’t a good idea.”
“I’ll be fine,” she says firmly. Then she lifts her gaze to me, her hazel eyes heavy with sympathy. “I’ll do everything I can, I promise.”
I nod, unable to speak around the tightness in my throat, and watch as she places her hands over my father’s chest. A bright light emanates from her palms, her expression one of immense concentration.
I hold my breath and wait. And wait. And wait. Eternal seconds pass with almost no change. Bryn’s hands begin to tremble as sweat beads on her brow, dampening her blond hairline. I’ve seen healers in Faerie work plenty of times on injuries far worse than this one. I know what it looks like when their powers are working. And this isn’t it.
My father’s eyes slide closed and panic seizes my heart. “What’s wrong? Why isn’t anything happening?”
Finn looks at his sister-in-law. “You healed me when Edevane ran me through with an iron blade. You can do this, Bryn.”
She frowns uncertainly. “Something is different about his wound. It’s causing damage faster than I can repair it.”
Caiden curses and drags a hand over his jaw. “Edevane had to have used the Spear of Assal. No one is meant to heal from a weapon of the gods. I’m sorry, Taryn, but I’m afraid not even Bryn, as powerful as she is, can save him from this.”
The dam inside me breaks, and I can't hold back the sobs any longer. “No! Please, Athair. I have so many things I want to say to you. Please don’t leave me again. Not like this, not when I’ve only just found you,” I finish weakly.
“Taryn,” Bryn says gently, moisture welling in her own eyes. “Caiden’s right, I can’t reverse this. But I can try to heal him enough so you can say goodbye. That’s the best I can do.”
I nod emphatically, grateful for every second she can give me. “Yes, please try.”
“Bryn,” Caiden objects.
She glances over her shoulder at him. “You know I have to do this.”
His jaw pops in clear agitation as he wars with his answer. Finally, he gives her a meaningful look and says, “Listen for my voice.”
“I always do.” Something passes between them I’m not meant to understand. Then he acquiesces with a stiff nod.
Turning her attention back to my father, she takes a deep breath and starts again. This time, the light from her hands slowly travels up her arms. Her eyes begin to glow, the green centers of her irises melding with the outer golden ring, like nothing I’ve ever seen on any fae. Caiden paces behind his mate as energy crackles in the air around her.
I watch in amazement as a hint of color starts to work its way back into my father’s face, the look of pain lessening as his breaths come easier. “It’s working,” I say excitedly.
Bryn grits her teeth as her hands begin to tremble and sweat pours from her temples.
“Bryn,” Caiden warns.
“Not yet.” Never letting up, she slams her eyes shut and redoubles her efforts, the light of her healing power now spreading to her entire body and her long, blond hair floating in an invisible breeze.
My father’s eyes flutter open. “Taryn…”
“Yes! It’s me, I’m here.”
I’ve imagined all the things I would say to him if ever given the chance a thousand times. But none of those things are what comes out as I try to speak around my choked sobs.
“I’m so, so sorry. I’m not the daughter you raised me to be.” The words tumble out, each one heavier than the last, the weight of my shame threatening to crush me into dust. “I hurt so many of our people, and then I abandoned them. I couldn’t protect Devlyn, and now I’m too late to save you. Forgive me, Athair. I have failed you.”
His hand tightens around mine, a feeble but determined grip. His words are slow, pausing every so often to drag in a shallow breath. “Precious child… you have not failed me. Brigid has guided you and led you to your destiny. But now you must forge your path… together.”
His lavender eyes shift to where Finn is on one knee next to me. My father holds his free hand out to him, and Finn doesn’t hesitate to clasp it between both of his. “Moira was right about you. She always was… the most powerful of us. She will need you before the end. Fire is brightest… in the dark.”
Finn and I share a confused glance, obviously neither of us understanding. Then I remember he told me that King Braden started saying nonsensical things at the end, too, and it drives home the knowledge that I’m going to lose my father all over again.
Dragging in another stilted breath, he whispers to Finn, “Show her.”
They both jolt like receiving a shock. Caiden stops pacing to stand next to Bryn, drawing my attention, and my lips part on a gasp. The crackling energy has turned to gold sparks firing off around us, and Bryn’s hair is practically standing on end. Her face is drained of color, and she’s visibly shaking with the effort it’s taking her to hold her power.
“Bryn, it’s time to stop.” When she doesn’t respond, he crouches down, getting as close as he dares. His voice when he speaks again is low and sharp, like the crack of a whip. “Beauty, enough.”
Her eyes snap open just as the light from her power dims to nothing and the air in the room returns to normal. She slumps to the side, but Caiden catches her and scoops her up in his arms. Before he carries her off to tend to her, she looks at me in earnest. “Say goodbye, Taryn. Hurry.”
Panic flares within me as I gaze back down at my father, the room fading away until it’s just the two of us. I can feel him slipping away now that Bryn is no longer preventing it. His strength is quickly waning, and the wound in his chest seeps with a fresh wave of blood.
I do my best to hold my emotions in check and be brave for him in this moment, but I can’t stem the unrelenting tears streaming down my face. Swallowing around the fist in my throat, I press his bloodied hand to my cheek and hold it there. “I love you, Athair,” I whisper hoarsely.
“Is breá liom tú, mo iníon luachmhar.” I love you, my precious daughter. He takes one more shuddering breath, his chest barely rising from the effort before he utters his final words. “Remember to…believe… in your fire.”
And then he is still.
The silence that follows is deafening, the finality of his death a harsh blow. I collapse over him, my body wracked with sobs. Finn’s arms wrap around me, his presence a small comfort in the storm of my sorrow.
Finn’s voice is gentle and quiet near my ear. “He’s at peace now, sweetheart.”
I nod. But peace for me feels a world away as I cling to my father’s lifeless body, the grief consuming me in waves. Each breath I take is a struggle, every heartbeat a reminder of what I’ve lost for a second time.
“Moy sever, I am sorry for your pain.” Dmitri’s hand settles on my shoulder, his voice unusually thick with emotion. “Come, sestra, we will give him the proper farewell.”
Sniffling, I swipe at the remaining tears on my face and mentally pull my mask back on. “We need to catch up with Edevane. We don’t have time for a Remembrance Ceremony.”
Finn holds out his hand and helps me to my feet. “We’ll make time. It doesn’t have to be anything elaborate, but he deserves the honor of a ritual pyre so his ashes can find their way to Mag Mell.”
Conall approaches with Connor padding over at his side. “You said yourself that time moves slower in Faerie, and we were already willing to give Edevane forty-eight hours before crossing the veil. Let us do this for you, Taryn.”
“Let us do it for your father, to honor his sacrifice,” Finn adds.
“And yours,” Caiden says, returning.
I’m almost too afraid to ask. “Bryn?”
“She’ll be fine after she rests.”
“Thank gods.” The only thing that could’ve made this moment worse is if Bryn or her baby were hurt giving me the gift of saying goodbye.
“You and Finn go on ahead,” Caiden says. “We’ll take care of your father and meet you topside.”
A tangle of emotions constricts around my heart like choking vines. Anguish and anger twine together, piercing the muscle with razored thorns, while the budding flowers of loyalty and love struggle to bloom amidst the pain. But feeling the caress of their soft petals as I take in this found family around me.
“Thank you,” I say roughly. “All of you.”
As we prepare to honor my father’s memory, I feel a new resolve hardening within me. Athair’s sacrifice, his love, will not be in vain.
TWENTY-NINE
TARYN
The desert night is a tapestry of deep indigos and purples, the sky scattered with a million shimmering stars. The air is still and cool, a stark contrast to the heat of the day, and the vast expanse around us feels both desolate and infinite.
A faint breeze carries the scent of sagebrush and the mahogany wood of the furniture the guys broke up and hauled out of the casino to construct a makeshift funeral pyre. They’re preparing to send my father off in the way of our people, a ritual as ancient as our lineage, and as they work, I am struck by the finality of it all.
I tried helping them but was gently—and firmly—turned down. I didn’t have the energy to argue when Finn guided me a fair distance away to sit with him on an outcropping of rocks while Caiden, Dmitri, and the Woulfe brothers take care of things with Bryn resting inside the truck nearby.
Sitting between Finn’s legs, I find comfort in his strong arms wrapped around me from behind. His breath is soft against my ear, his steady heartbeat a counterpoint to my erratic one. He doesn’t speak. Instead, he holds me tighter, his silent presence a balm for my fractured soul.
I lean back into him, closing my eyes and letting the night sounds wash over me—the distant murmur of voices, the stacking of wood, the rustle of nocturnal creatures. In this isolated corner of the world, it feels as if we are the only ones left, suspended in a moment of raw, unfiltered grief.
“I’m not ready to say goodbye,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the desert's hush.
Finn’s arms tighten around me, his chin resting on the top of my head. “You don’t have to be ready,” he murmurs. “We’ll take it one breath at a time.”
I nod, knowing he’s right, but the ache in my chest remains. “I wish I’d had the chance to talk to him longer. I have so many questions about how he fit into all this. So many things I don’t understand.”
“Taryn, I need to tell you something,” he says solemnly.
Turning my body to the side so I can see his face, I study him warily. “Nothing good ever comes after those words, Finn.”
He brushes a stray curl away from my face. “This isn’t good or bad, I think it’s just…difficult. The last thing I want to do right now is make this harder for you than it already is.”
My heart pounds with trepidation. “We agreed we wouldn’t hold back information to protect the other person.”
“I know. That’s why I’m bringing it up. So you can choose what you want to do.”
Steeling myself for bad news, I bite the bullet. “Okay. What is it?”
He takes a beat, like he’s regretting his decision to say anything. But then he finally does.
“Garyth showed me some of his memories. It was like he implanted them straight into my mind in the span of a heartbeat. He was a seer, too, Taryn. Him, my grandmother, and Barwyn all were, and they were working together.”
I’m speechless. Of all the things Finn could’ve told me, my father being a seer who helped orchestrate all of this wasn’t even in the mix. Then I realize something else and stare at him with wide eyes. “Seers can only transfer their memories and visions to other seers, Finn.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
My expression softens with concern. “That’s a pretty big revelation. How are you doing with that?”
He smiles to reassure me, but it’s not the unguarded kind that comes so naturally to him. “I’m fine, it’s just a lot to take in. It explains why I always had such strong gut feelings about things. I’m guessing the power was muted, though, because I was born here. But I think the connection I felt with you through your Armas was my power’s way of showing me what was in my future. You.”
Resting my hand on the side of his face, I stare into the windows of his soul and see love reflected back at me that makes my chest ache in the best of ways. “And it’s why I was dreaming of your golden eyes and couldn’t stop drawing them. Part of me knew I was waiting for you to find me.”
He presses a sweet kiss to my forehead and tucks me against him. This is quickly becoming my safe haven, wrapped up in his arms where I can hear the steady beat of his heart and feel the warmth from his body radiating into mine.
“What memories did he show you?”
“Do you want to see them for yourself?”
I pull away to look at him, frowning. “I’m not a seer, Finn. I inherited my mother’s conjuring magic. Bryn inherited both her parents’ specialty powers, but she’s the exception to the rule.”
“I know,” he says, “but if you siphon some of mine, I could show you. It’s what he meant when he said ‘show her,’ but if you’re not comfortable with that, I can just as easily tell you.”
My mind flashes back to the feeling of Finn drinking my blood, the intimacy of his lips on my neck, and I wonder what it would feel like to do the same to him, wonder how he would taste. The idea is both thrilling and unnerving, as I’ve never bit anyone or drank from them. It’s not something fae do unless they’re mated. Then again, it can’t be that hard. Dmitri does it all the time.
