Filthy Rich Fae, page 4
Oberon gazed at the distant nightmare. “Our magic has been warped—cursed. Light and shadow converge. Chaos nears. We must stop it, especially now that the curse on Earth’s creatures has been lifted.”
“You’re afraid of a bunch of vampires? I’ve never even met one.”
“Vampires?” He laughed. “No. I have a way to keep them under control, but others are stirring. Old monsters and even older gods. Our magic must be balanced again. Light and shadow and the earth that binds them. The Otherworld must be united before it’s too late.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, unable to keep my voice from trembling. Oberon wasn’t telling me the truth. Not the whole truth, at least. He was dangling bits of it like bait, waiting for me to bite. “You want to go to war.”
“I want to be king. War is a necessary evil.”
He had the evil part right. “There is no king.”
“There will be.” His smile turned my blood to ice. “When the Terra Court rises again and magic is made whole. That’s what Lach was after, but he will not be king. He will not be the savior. Not anymore.”
“The Terra Court is gone. It’s ash.” I spit the words at him, even as dangerous thoughts began to swirl in my own brain. I refused to let them take root.
“Such a child.” He clucked his tongue. “Nothing is ever truly gone.”
“They all died.”
“Not all of them.”
Lach. Ciara. Fiona. Shaw. That bloodline ran through each of them, but Lach had renounced the throne.
“You know the royal bloodline lives,” he said, adding, “for now.”
“If you touch my family—” I snarled before I could stop myself.
His smile was as smooth as the polished marble of his estate and just as cold. “I knew you loved him—loved all of them. The family you never had. But how much?”
“What do you want?” I breathed.
Oberon swiveled to face me, his eyes dipping to the ring on my finger. “We’ve been looking for that ring for a long time. It disappeared with the penumbra who wore it, long before the war. But the magic that links it to the Terra Court endures.”
“It’s just an emerald ring. Lach said it was worthless…” The words faded, the truth demanding to finally take hold.
The bargain.
Lach’s demand.
Swear that you will never take it off…
“Can’t you see, Cate?” Oberon pressed. “Lach was using you to get that ring. It’s not an emerald. It’s an esmeraude—one of our rarest gems.”
It wasn’t true. It was…impossible. This wasn’t a fae ring. Oberon was lying, but if he wasn’t… “Why? He is the true heir of the Terra Court. He doesn’t need the ring to claim it.”
“He chose the Nether Court so he could strengthen his empire and prepare to seize more power. That’s why he tried to ally with the Infernal Court. He needs the ring to reclaim his mother’s throne, and if he succeeds, the darkness you saw will spread. Not just through the Otherworld but to the earth itself. You’ve seen the monster that lives inside him.”
I tried to sort the truth from his lies, but it was impossible to know what to believe.
“Tell me how you got that ring.”
I didn’t answer him.
“Who gave it to you?” he needled.
Lie, a quiet voice whispered in my head. I wasn’t sure why, but I listened to it. “The woman who raised me after my parents died.”
“Interesting.” He studied me, and I wondered if he saw through my dishonesty. “It hardly matters. Give it to me.”
My blood roared in response, pounding as if trying to drown him out. I pressed a hand to my spinning head. Oberon wanted my ring just like Lach had. Why didn’t they just take it? I had offered it to Lach that first night, and he had refused. It didn’t make sense. My stomach clenched like an invisible fist had grabbed hold of my guts, and I gasped.
But Oberon continued without noticing. “Lach planned to retake the Otherworld. With that ring and Terran blood, he might have succeeded, might have become like an icon. But I won’t fail.”
Terran blood. He needed Terran blood. My friends…
“If I give it to you…” A sharp jolt of fear rocketed up my spine, but I shook it off. “You won’t touch them?”
“Are you offering me a bargain?” he asked.
Don’t, the whisper warned, but this time I ignored it. If Lach was running from the Wild Hunt—running for his life—the Nether Court was without a leader. I couldn’t help them fight a war, but I could protect them. “If you meet my terms.”
Chapter Three
Cate
Despite my attempt to tiptoe, my footsteps echoed in the airy halls of the court. It felt silly to sneak around because I wasn’t doing anything wrong. After a day of waiting for something to happen—half dreading and half eager—I’d grown restless. No one had stopped me from wandering through the halls. No one seemed to care what I was doing or where I went. I wasn’t a prisoner, just as Oberon had claimed. But he’d also drugged me and brought me here against my will, so trust was going to be an issue, especially until the terms of our bargain were fulfilled.
He hadn’t taken the ring.
I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting a pale glow over the silk-covered couches and expensive woven rugs, bouncing off the oil paintings that lined the walls. But the space remained cold, an eerie silence permeating each room I happened upon. The grandeur was a facade, as perfectly constructed as the paintings hanging in gilded frames, but underneath it was a void that I felt like a pit in my stomach.
I didn’t belong to this court that was as lovely and deadly as the oleander that grew in its gardens. I’d already made my first mistake. Oberon had agreed to the terms of my bargain too quickly.
The ring was a small price to pay for the safety of my family and friends, but Lach’s warning to never remove it rattled around in my brain, refusing to let me sleep. Now, each second I wore it, the ring felt heavier. The only piece of my mother that I had, and I had agreed to give it away.
All my life, I had wondered about my parents. The most I really knew were their names and the day they died. I had nothing from them, not even a death certificate. Nothing but this ring.
I paused by a window overlooking the gardens, but there was no sign of the hellscape Oberon had revealed to me yesterday.
I’d shown my ring to Lach the night we met. He had taken one look at its gold filigree and glassy green stone and declared it worthless. A lie. I didn’t know how to feel about that. He hadn’t had a chance to explain in those final, breathless moments as MacAlister lay dying and he took the final kill shot—marking himself for the Wild Hunt in my place. There hadn’t been time for him to explain how he was breaking the bargain, and now, the memory gnawed at me. Had he ever wanted me at all? The thought had chased me out of my room, looking for answers to anything but that question.
Because he had taken that final shot for me. He cared as much as I did, so why hadn’t he told me the truth? What terrible secret did this ring hold that two fae princes wanted it so badly?
The ring was the linchpin of my bargain with Lach, and now it was the linchpin of my bargain with Oberon—it had value. I just didn’t understand why.
Tears clogged up my throat, but I swallowed them down, fleeing from my emotions as I continued into an adjoining hall.
I’d worn the ring compulsively since that day at Gran’s when she had seen it and told me to never take it off. Even at work, where I’d been allowed one piece of jewelry, and I’d worn it while others had worn their wedding rings. But this…
It had never needed cleaning. It had never tarnished. It always fit. But the idea that I was walking around with a ring from some fallen fae court was ridiculous. My parents had died in a car accident—an end made all the more tragic by its mundanity. Maybe I would give Oberon the ring and he would find it was exactly what Lach had said that first night: worthless. But he would be bound by that bargain all the same.
Still…what if I was wrong?
I shoved the thought aside and entered a sitting room. How many did they need for the two of them? There were guards. I’d encountered a few in the various empty rooms, but they all stared straight ahead. It was more like encountering ghosts than people.
No one, save for Oberon and Titania, had uttered a word to me since my arrival, and those two hadn’t exactly been chatty. I didn’t trust a word that came out of Oberon’s mouth, and Titania seemed to be avoiding my company. Fine by me.
I hadn’t liked the princess when we met, and the fact that she was now lobbying to kill me didn’t help her case.
But that raised a new problem. I’d been so concerned with protecting the people I’d left behind, I hadn’t considered my own situation. I’d struck a bargain using the only leverage I possessed without stipulating that they let me go. And if I had to live the rest of my mortal years in this mausoleum, I would lose my fucking mind.
I turned the corner, finding a spiral staircase. Torches blazed a path, their flames casting shadows across the steps. They curled like fingers, beckoning me to descend. And maybe I’d grown accustomed to the shadows of the Nether Court, but I started down them. It was a terrible idea, but lately I didn’t have much else to work with, and I couldn’t go back to that pristine white bedroom and just wait around for my fate.
I took the steps quickly, fingers sliding down the polished rail to keep me steady as I glanced over my shoulder, half expecting one of those silent guards to come after me.
The stairs emptied into a dimly lit corridor, a stark contrast to the stately open-air luxury of the main floor. The walls seemed to close in around me, the air thick and oppressive. Cold sweat beaded on my brow as I stared into the corridor that stretched before me, its end lost in shadows. In the absence of any windows, the only light came from the flickering torches. They illuminated the rough-hewn stone walls and the uneven floor beneath my feet. Deafening silence greeted me, broken only by my pounding heart and ragged breathing. I shouldn’t be here.
The metal of my ring burned against my skin, and I clenched my fist, trying to ignore the sensation. It only grew stronger, though, a searing pain that shot up my arm and into my chest.
I should turn back and leave the secrets down here. The thought planted itself in my mind.
That would be the reasonable thing to do, but nothing about this situation fell under that heading. I forged forward, going slowly as my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.
Each step ratcheted my pulse. One day I would listen to my survival instinct—or die ignoring it. It was difficult to guess which would come first. I was about to give up my search when I came across a door, slightly ajar, with a cramped room beyond. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, and a cluttered desk sat in the middle of the space. Books and journals were crammed onto every available surface, their leather covers cracked and faded with age.
There was a reason these were down here, tucked away from prying eyes and curious guests. So I didn’t try to stop myself from snooping.
I plucked one of the books from the shelf, my fingers trembling slightly as I opened it. The pages were yellow and brittle, the ink faded to a dull brown. I squinted in the poor lighting and realized they were written in Theban, the ancient fae tongue. The same language that made up the tattoos that covered Lach’s body. If I ever got out of here, I was going to learn what the hell I was looking at.
Frustration welled up inside me as I flipped through the pages, desperately searching for something, anything that I could understand. I wished I had my phone with me so I could take a picture and try to translate it later. A futile plan. I doubted Google could help me with this.
But whatever had compelled me down those stairs still whispered in my mind. I didn’t need proof that Oberon was up to no good—he’d proven that when he’d planted the seeds of discord between the shadow courts. Violence was inevitable, and he didn’t have to get his own hands dirty.
My eyes darted around the room, searching for some clue, some hint of what Oberon was planning. Preferably something that was not written in a thousand-year-old magical language. I moved to the desk, which was covered in letters and leather-bound journals, and riffled through them. All written in Theban. Not even a freaking diagram.
It was a lost cause. I stacked them back into haphazard piles until it looked like the mess I’d found and not a ransacked room.
I made it two steps toward the hall when I spotted a small door peeking from behind a leather club chair. The door was half the size of a normal one. Probably nothing. Still, I shoved the chair out of the way, then dropped to my knees and tried its brass handle. Locked. Naturally. Secret doors usually were.
I’d seen Channing pick a lock. So, getting to my feet, I snatched the letter opener from the desk and carefully worked it into the keyhole, wiggling it back and forth until I felt something give. Adrenaline surged through my chest as I pushed harder. My grip slipped, and I caught the blade on instinct, gasping as it sliced open my hand. The letter opener clattered to the ground as blood welled in my palm. I closed my fingers against the smarting pain.
What did Oberon have behind a tiny, locked door?
I leaned forward, trying to peer through the keyhole, but I couldn’t see a thing. Frustrated, I pressed my ear to the door, holding my breath as I strained to listen for…something. I froze as I caught a muffled sound. Followed by a growl. A chill raced along my spine, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.
I tamped down my panic as I rose. Clenching my injured hand tightly, I scooted the chair back in place. Another growl, this one louder, sent me running into the hall.
I made it halfway down the corridor before I paused to catch my breath. Why was Oberon keeping an animal locked in the basement of the Hallow Court? What kind of a beast deserved that treatment? I closed my eyes, trying to steady my heart, but when I opened them, something was staring back.
It had no face. No body. But it moved with an undeniable presence, its luminous outline shifting as it came closer. My heart leaped into my throat, and it hesitated as if it sensed my unease.
A soft moan filled the air like a whispering wind. I knew that sound.
Wraith.
I had never seen one at the Nether Court. I’d only heard their sighing sounds and glimpsed hints of passing shadows.
The wraith hovered before me, and a tendril of light stretched toward me like a hand. I pressed against the wall, but it didn’t touch me. Instead, the wisp curled, pointing itself in the direction of the stairs. I stared, breathing hard and fast.
“It’s not safe here, is it?” I whispered.
I could have sworn it shook its nonexistent head.
I murmured my thanks and rushed back the way I’d come. My footsteps echoed off the stone walls as I climbed the spiral staircase, blood pounding in my ears.
I didn’t look back to see if it had followed me.
I had more questions than answers now. They started in a loop as I hurried toward my room. I was a few steps from the door, consumed in thought, when someone stepped into my path. I stifled a gasp of surprise.
“Are you lost?” Titania wore her disdain like heavy perfume.
I hid my bloody hand behind my back as alarm coiled through me. How long had she been standing there? Had she been looking for me?
I straightened, squaring my shoulders. “Just exploring.”
“How bold.” Malice glinted in her eyes. “Can I give you some advice?”
“If I said no, would it stop you?” I asked flatly.
She ignored me. “There is no place more dangerous than the one beside the throne. Two princes want you there.”
I gritted my teeth, wondering if she was always this paranoid or if it was simply the byproduct of spending so much time listening to her brother plot against the world. “Oberon wants my ring. Not me.”
But I still had the ring. She was right; there was some reason I was still alive. He needed more from me than he was letting on.
“Do you think that bargaining with him will be that simple? That you can give him that ring and a smile and walk out of here?” she asked as if reading my mind. “If I were you, I would start making my peace with the gods.”
“Is that a threat?” I stared back at her.
She stilled, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. It was gone as swiftly as it had appeared. “It’s a warning.”
“I didn’t ask to come here,” I reminded her. “I was taken against my will. If you’re so concerned, help me escape.”
“No one escapes,” she said with a laugh that chilled my blood. “Not a single one of you. Oberon likes to collect things, and he has collected you.”
Fear bolted through me. “I’m not a toy.”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “And yet, he wants to play with you. But you know that. It’s why you agreed to his bargain.”
“I made that bargain to protect my friends. Something I’m sure you could never understand.”
She lowered her voice, moving closer. “And who will protect you, princess?” I flinched at the sound of Lach’s pet name on her lips, and her mouth carved into a sneer. “I learned a thing or two at school—like how to play these games of his. Trust me, you’ll never win against him.”
I couldn’t imagine what land-before-time education she’d had, but maybe toying with people like pawns was normal back then. “I’m not scared of your brother’s games.”
