Unseelie Queen Page 13

  Their first day would be the easiest, with only one battle each. As their numbers were whittled down, they would be called on to fight more often. It was obvious the black armored warriors were far more experienced, but a few outliers had made it through the first round.

  Returning to the inn when the tournament was over for the day, Dacrith went straight to his room rather than lingering in the tavern. Hexam was lying on the bed when he entered. The hound gave him a flat stare, then closed all six eyes. He’d wanted to accompany the prince, but had been left behind. He was now sulking.

  “I saw Asha,” Dacrith said as he went about taking his armor and clothing off so he could wash up. A ceramic basin of water and a washcloth awaited him on a pedestal near the fire. A towel was draped over a chair so he could dry himself off. Bathing was new to him. Even in the dungeon, he’d always had brownies there to clean him daily.

  Hexam raised one of his heads and opened his orange eyes again. He made an enquiring noise in his throat.

  “She looked well,” Dacrith went on. “She was sitting beside her father, the Goblin King.” The hound’s upper lip lifted at that. “I’m glad Asha takes after her mother,” he went on. “At least she does when she isn’t angry.”

  Remembering he was annoyed with his companion, the Cerberus dropped his head again and feigned sleep.

  Donning a fresh black shirt and pair of pants that appeared on the end of his bed as his old ones vanished, Dacrith sank down onto the chair at the table. A scant meal of meat and vegetables appeared in front of him. “A meal fit for a king,” he said with a sigh, but he didn’t complain. At least the brownies were still able to conjure up food at all. If their magic failed completely, the fae beings would quickly begin to starve. They would have to figure out how to grow food and hunt for themselves. It would be an utter disaster.

  His plate disappeared when he finished eating and he stared out through the window at the rain. It had only been a month since Asha had been taken from him, but he’d missed her. He snorted out a laugh at that, silently mocking himself for being sentimental over a girl he barely knew. Next, he would be writing sonnets about her. If that was an actual requirement for winning her hand, he was pretty sure some of the contestants would do it. They would stop at nothing to become the next ruler.

  Pondering long into the night, he finally lay down on the thin mattress to sleep. Come morning, he ate quickly, then went through the laborious task of putting his armor on. Hexam bounded off the bed and pranced next to the door. He was clearly dying to go to the bathroom. The brownies must have been cleaning up after the hound, but it was cruel to leave the beast locked inside. “You can leave the inn, but stay out of sight,” Dacrith warned him. His voice sounded hollow from behind his helmet. “If anyone sees you, they’ll know I’m here. Someone might put two and two together and figure out who I really am if they see us together.”

  Hexam nodded while dancing on the spot. He was desperate to go and reached out to tug on the prince’s hand with his mouth. Dacrith waited for the Cerberus to shrink down, then scooped him up. He used the back entrance and set the hound down on the lawn at the back of the inn. “Be good,” he warned, pointing his finger at Hexam. Still tiny, one of the dog’s heads swung up to look at him innocently as he did his business.

  Heaving a sigh that his companion would most likely be discovered, Dacrith headed for the arena. He couldn’t worry about the Cerberus now and had to focus on the tournament. He followed the crowd to the arena and was sorted according to his number. The contestants shuffled into the building and dripped water as they waited for the fighting to begin. Since it had taken so long to whittle down the first group, each round had been increased from twenty to forty fighters. That sped things up a bit and whittled down their numbers to fifteen hundred by lunchtime.

  Tartor was in the first group to fight his second opponent after lunch. This time, he didn’t play with his rival. Their fight was vicious, bloody and short. While he didn’t hack off any of his foe’s limbs, he left the hunter unconscious and covered in deep gashes. A pair of medics hurried out to collect the fallen fairy. His wounds were healing, but he wasn’t able to walk away on his own. The spectators cheered loudly, entertained by the gore, but Asha just frowned in disapproval.

  When it was Dacrith’s turn to enter the arena, he trotted alongside his chosen opponent. His rival was another warrior and seemed nervous about being in front of such a huge crowd. As the most renowned fighter in the history of the goblin dungeon, Dacrith wasn’t bothered at all. He’d been aware on some level that he’d had an audience as he’d spent what felt like dozens of eons battling his enemies.

  When they were given the signal to begin, they circled each other. Dacrith made the first strike and his sword clanged against his opponent’s blade. Fairy warriors rarely used shields. Their spare hand used to be used for casting spells. Now without their magic, they only had their weapons for defense.

  It was clear within the first few seconds that Dacrith was the superior fighter of the pair. Deciding not to drag it out just to humiliate his opponent, he used a series of thrusts and parries, then stabbed his rival through the chest. The fairy fell to his knees and bowed his head in defeat. Their suits were enchanted to repair themselves, but they became whole far more slowly now.

  Without thinking, Dacrith turned to the balcony and bowed to Asha. She looked startled for a second, then her face lit up momentarily before she restrained herself. Acting as if she hadn’t figured out who he was, she coolly inclined her head in response.

  “Get off the field, one-eleven,” one of the fairies who was coordinating the tournament said. “Make room for the next batch of fighters.”

  Laughter rang out, but Dacrith didn’t care. He felt lighter inside now that Asha knew he was there. She would have made a note of his number so she could follow his progress. He strode into the victors’ room and received a flat, murderous stare from Tartor. The blue-haired warrior didn’t like anyone stealing the attention from him. Dacrith’s back tingled warningly when he turned away to watch the next round. He’d just made an enemy by simply showing some respect to Asha.

  The day wore on as more competitors were eliminated. A thousand fairies were left when the tournament came to a close. Most of the battles hadn’t lasted long. The few that had stretched for more than a handful of minutes were between the more experienced warriors. They were weeding out the hunters and random fighters who had decided to throw their hats into the ring, so to speak.

  On his way back to the inn, Dacrith spotted Hexam when he emerged from a clump of grass. The hound was soaked and looked miserable as he slogged his way through the deep water that couldn’t seep into the ground. Bending down, the prince scooped the Cerberus up and held him in his hand. Three tongues licked his palm in gratitude. With a chuckle that rang inside his helmet, he entered the inn and made his way upstairs.

  He felt strangely jubilant as he stripped his armor off. The hound grew to his normal size and lay down next to the blazing fire to dry off. “Asha saw me today,” Dacrith told his companion. “My Queen knows my number now. She’ll be able to keep track of my progress as I win my way closer to becoming her husband.”

  Hexam made a sound of acknowledgment, then his three heads began fighting over a bone that appeared on a platter. Two more bones arrived, but they still snapped and growled at each other. Amused by the sight as always, Dacrith cleaned himself, then sat at the table to eat his own meal. He wondered how Asha was faring beneath the endless scrutiny of the courtiers.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  EXCITEMENT HEIGHTENED Asha’s color as she prepared for the banquet. Unlike every other fairy in the realm now, she didn’t have to dress herself. Olsa and Unwin chose her gown and made sure her hair was perfect. Raised on Earth, she was used to tending to herself, so no one had questioned why she always looked so neat and tidy.

  “You look beautiful as always, your highness,” Unwin said when they were done dressing her.

&n
bsp; “Not compared to the courtiers I don’t,” she replied. “I’m ordinary compared to most of them.”

  “Who told you that?” Olsa demanded, planting her hands on her hips.

  “Corvine made it pretty clear that I’m not exactly all that enticing.”

  “He was an idiot,” Kurtus muttered from his guard duty in the hall.

  Asha snickered in reaction. Her taciturn guard was slowly warming to her and she was beginning to enjoy his company. He was the only fairy who didn’t say snide things to her. Probably because he’d seen what she’d done to Corvine in person. The others had only heard rumors and still didn’t quite believe them.

  After she’d spiked Tartor’s hand, he’d kept his distance from her. The warrior watched her with his combination of bronze and blue eyes as she took her throne in the banquet hall. The courtiers and high-ranking soldiers did their best to pretend to be merry, but it was hard to keep up the ruse when their dinner was so uninspiring.

  Asha watched them in private amusement, well aware that they could have been eating much more tasty meals. The brownies were finally getting their revenge after eons of oppression and it was a good one.

  “You appear to be enjoying the tournament, my lady,” Lord Nicolaia said. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you smile so much since your arrival in our realm.”

  She hadn’t realized she’d been grinning at the courtiers’ misfortune. “I’m looking forward to when the storms finally cease,” she said, coming up with the only thing she could think off that would make a good excuse.

  “You mean after I’ve bedded and bonded you,” Tartor said with an insolent smirk. All fairies had exceptional hearing, but it was rude of him to interrupt them from another table. Titters and sly looks accompanied his statement.

  “Keep dreaming, Tartar,” Asha sneered. Standing a few feet behind her, Kurtus snorted out a laugh, then schooled his face to an impassive mask again. She’d explained what tartar was where she came from and he found it amusing.

  Aware that he was the brunt of a joke without knowing why, Tartor glared at her. When the interminable meal finally ended, he grabbed hold of a female courtier at random. Asha watched as Camlim shot her a triumphant look, then wrapped her hands around his arm and leaned against his armor-clad body. It was clear what the pair intended to do and Asha’s upper lip lifted in derision.

  “Is that jealousy I detect, my lady?” Lord Vanse asked as he stepped forward to pull her throne back so she could stand. The advisor’s blood red hair and unsettling yellow eyes still unnerved her a little.

  “No,” she replied honestly. “It’s another nail in Tartar’s coffin.”

  Frowning at the unfamiliar human expression, he lifted a scarlet eyebrow in confusion. “Pardon?”

  “It means he just killed off any slight chance that I would have accepted him as my husband,” she explained as they and the other advisors left the hall.

  “How so?” Lady Mildra enquired, pushing her way through to walk on Asha’s other side.

  “Dryad royalty are different from most fae beings,” Asha struggled to explain.

  “We are aware of that,” Lord Vanse said dryly. “You only take one mate.”

  He eyed her with a leer he probably wasn’t even aware of and her skin crawled. “I expect any man who attempts to woo me to be faithful,” she told him coldly.

  Silence met that statement before King Lod broke it. He had to rush to keep up with them. Even Asha was far taller than he was. “You expect the warriors to remain abstinent until after the tournament?” he asked incredulously.

  “Would it kill them not to have sex with random strangers for a few days?” Asha asked dryly.

  “We fail to understand why you would require this of your suitors,” Lord Nicolaia said as diplomatically as possible.

  “That’s because you’re evil,” Asha said in a pitying tone. “None of you can even understand the concept of monogamy, or caring about someone else. All you think about is yourselves.”

  “I had a husband once,” Lady Mildra said stiffly. “I am well aware of the concept of love.”

  “What happened to him?” Asha asked.

  “He died during the war,” the advisor said. Even after so many eons, a touch of pain could be heard in her tone at her loss.

  “You joined Prince Sindarian even after your husband was killed?” Asha asked in disbelief. “Why?”

  “Have you ever lost someone you loved more than life itself?” Mildra asked, peering down her nose at the dryad.

  “No.” In truth, Asha had never loved anyone before she’d been rescued from the asylum where she’d been kept for a decade. Jake and his friends had become like a family to her. While she still cared about Harley, she wasn’t sure she’d actually loved him.

  “Then you couldn’t possibly understand my motives,” the advisor said with a sniff of disdain. She stalked ahead and turned into the sitting room where she and her cronies would discuss the future of their realm.

  Feeling strangely sad for Lady Mildra, Asha peeled off from the group. She was never invited to their meetings despite the fact that she would soon become their queen.

  Kurtus followed her to the small library she’d taken to visiting in her spare time. She’d learned that not only could she understand fae languages, she could also read their books. Instead of choosing something to read, she turned to her guard. “Were you in the war?” she asked.

  He looked startled for a moment, then shook his head. “I was born after the Unseelie realm was well established.”

  “You’ve never been to the Seelie lands?”

  “No. I’ve had no reason to go there. The Seelie warriors would imprison me if I attempted to cross through the borderlands and enter their realm.”

  “Why did Sindarian rebel in the first place?” she asked in frustration. “He had everything a fairy could ever ask for. Why couldn’t he have been happy with what he had?”

  “He wished to rule,” Kurtus reminded her. “It was his birthright. Our kind tend to live for a very long time. It was doubtful he would ever have ruled over the fae lands. What choice did he have but to rebel and try to take the throne for himself?”

  “He could have talked to his parents like a civilized person,” she retorted. “I’m sure they would have understood his ambition. They could have worked out a peaceful solution and split the realm in two rather than fighting a war where so many fairies died.”

  He looked at her as if the very concept was crazy. “Well, I’d say it’s a bit late for that now, my lady. The battle was fought many eons ago.”

  “Why wasn’t the realm torn apart back then?” she asked. Jake and Rudy had told her about the forest that had become a noisome and deadly swamp where the war had been fought. If the deaths of two fairies could cause the Unseelie realm to become so chaotic, losing hundreds of their kind should have torn their entire world apart.

  “There was still really only one realm back then,” Kurtus explained. “It was only after the war that things changed. The borderlands formed and acted as a buffer to separate the realms. It quickly became apparent that a fragile balance had formed. To take a life in either land resulted in repercussions that were best avoided. We formed an uneasy impasse with the Seelie fairies to ensure the safety of both of our lands.”

  “Now the balance has been destroyed and both realms are going to pay,” Asha mourned.

  “You will put things to right,” her guard said confidently.

  “I don’t even know how we’re supposed to fix it,” Asha confessed. Camlim’s jab that her loins must be magical had stung her more than she’d been willing to admit. How was she supposed to heal an entire world just by getting naked with Dalrin if he won her hand in marriage? Fresh heat rose in her cheeks at that thought and she turned away so Kurtus wouldn’t see her confusion.

  “You’ll find a solution, my lady,” he told her back. “I just hope you discover it before it’s too late.”

  Chapter Thirty

  ON THE
THIRD DAY OF the tournament, Dacrith faced a tougher opponent. The soldier was adept with his sword and they circled each other warily after exchanging a few blows. Glad to have a challenger who wouldn’t fold immediately, Dacrith was careful to copy the current style of fighting and not give himself away.

  Their fight lasted for nearly ten minutes before he managed to disarm his opponent. Any other fairy would have rammed their sword into their rival’s chest. Dacrith merely waited for the soldier to nod that he’d been bested. Realizing he was the only remaining warrior, he turned to Asha and bowed in respect. Again, she inclined her head. Puzzled murmurs spread through the crowd and speculation about him began.

  Tartor confronted him when he stepped into the winner’s room. “You there,” he said arrogantly, coming to a stop in front of him. “What’s your name?”

  “Sorry, but you’re not my type,” Dacrith said insolently. “You’ll have to try your charms on someone else.”

  Sucking in an affronted breath, the warrior put his hand on his sword threateningly. “Do you know who I am?” he demanded.

  “You’re just another obstacle who’s standing in my way,” Dacrith drawled, channeling Jake Everett’s attitude. His brother-in-arms had a way of insulting people with little effort. It was one of the things he admired about the half-blood.

  “No fighting between the winners,” the fairy in charge of the champions barked, rushing over to stand between them. “Save it for the arena. You’ll get your chance to fight each other eventually.”

  It was hard to stare Tartor down while he was wearing his helmet with the visor hiding his face, but Dacrith managed it. He noted that they were roughly the same height, but his reach was slightly longer.

  “Careful, one-eleven,” one of the other champions muttered. “You might get a dagger in your back while you’re not looking. Tartor’s not known for fighting fair.”