King of Death: MM Fae Romance, page 40
A second after he slumped and stopped moving, I felt a little scratch on my back. A new black feather being etched there. Sighing, I drew my blade free with a firm tug and wiped it clean on his shirt before sheathing it. Then I looked around at the still, empty fields, crops planted in neat rows on turned earth.
I shouldn’t leave him here. Some of these farming Folk had children. It wasn’t fair to make children see something like this. And if I left his body to be found, the Folk would immediately suspect that I’d been the one to kill him, which wouldn’t instil much faith in their new king.
Sighing, I looked down at his lifeless body, then used the toe of my boot to roll him onto his front. Crouching, I reached out and touched my fingertips to the back of his neck. I had done this only once, and I still wasn’t quite sure how, but after a few seconds, I felt… something happening. Like threads were shooting out from my fingertips and worming their way under his skin, twisting around nerves, spiralling down his spine and feathering into his skull.
His limbs twitched. I stood and stepped back.
“Again, King?”
The familiar, somewhat exasperated voice made me look up. Ankou stood there with his arms crossed, his cusith panting beside him.
My mouth curved into a tiny smile. “Not for long.”
“Perhaps if you are going to do this often, we can come to some agreement.” He gestured at the gancanagh, who was sucking in ragged breaths as his head lifted from the ground. “Just let me know your intention to bring them back beforehand so I don’t stand around waiting to take them to the afterlife.”
I chuckled. “I don’t plan on killing many people after this.”
Ankou grumbled under his breath, refolding his arms and cocking his head as we watched Caom slowly look up at us in abject terror.
“Can I control him?” I asked curiously.
“Yes. If you want to. He’s like an extension of you now, until you sever the connection you’ve made.”
My lip curled. I wasn’t overly fond of the idea of the gancanagh being connected to me in any way, but needs must.
“Stand up,” I told him.
As if I’d used his true name, he did, rising unsteadily to his feet and swaying. He blinked sluggishly. Through the sliced fabric of his shirt, I could see the stab wound slowly closing over. Healing.
“Come with me.” I started walking back towards the village. Caom stumbled after me.
“Wh-what—” His voice was raspy. “What—”
“There’s just something you need to do first,” I told him flatly. “And then you’ll be gone.”
“Will this take long, King?” Ankou asked as he and his cusith followed us.
“No.”
By the time we made it back to the village, Caom’s colour had returned. His wound had completely healed. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes darted in terror—to me, to Ankou, to the giant death hound loping along beside us.
The dressmaker shop’s door was still hanging open. I walked inside, Caom still forced to follow, and up to his bedroom. Finding some parchment and a fountain pen, I laid them on the dressing table and pointed.
“Write that your shop is closing permanently.”
Breath hitching, the gancanagh stumbled over and picked up the pen in a shaking hand. He scribbled the message, then went still, fingers gripping the pen tightly as he waited for his next order.
“Wipe the blood from your skin and put on a clean shirt,” I told him, picking up the piece of parchment. “Then get on the bed.”
Ankou was standing in the doorway as he waited, arms crossed and his shoulder leaning on the frame. I could hear his cusith snuffling around in the hall.
Caom’s wide eyes stared up at the ceiling as he lay flat on his back in the bed, chest heaving under his new clean shirt. Without a word, I walked over and slid my fingers between his neck and the pillow, pressing them firmly into his skin. Almost instantly, I could feel those threads retreating, unwinding and pulling back, until he let out a final shuddering breath and his eyes grew flat and lifeless once again.
“For good this time?” Ankou asked mildly from the door.
I nodded, stepping back. The gancanagh looked as if he’d died in his sleep, the wound on his chest gone, the blood wiped away. I kicked the ruined shirt under his bed.
“Well then.” Ankou straightened as I turned, resting a hand on his cusith’s head as it appeared beside him and sniffed the air with interest. “A pleasure as always, King Lonan.”
I gave him a tiny smile. “Yes.”
Then he was gone. I closed the bedroom door behind me and made my way back downstairs. The village was still utterly silent as I stepped outside and pinned the notice to the door, then locked it and pocketed the key.
The sky was beginning to lighten. My arm stung as the cool and slightly damp air crept under the tear in my sleeve. I sighed, clamping my hand around the wound to slow the bleeding as I turned to start walking back to the palace.
“King Lonan.”
Stiffening, I slowly turned to see Belial standing a short distance away, a small basket dangling from one hand. Making sure my face was blank, I gave him a clipped nod. “Belial.”
His eyes drifted down to my arm. “Are you injured?”
I cleared my throat. “Just a minor… stab wound.”
“I’d be happy to treat it.”
With a sigh, my shoulders sagged. I remembered the pain of Belial’s form of treatment acutely, but it was the fastest way to heal a wound. I didn’t want Ash to panic if he saw me with a long, fresh slice in my arm when we met at the Midsith.
“I’d appreciate that,” I said evenly, walking over to meet him. As we began heading back down the road, I side-eyed him. “You’re out quite early. Or late.”
Unfazed by my appearance in the village or my fresh wound, Belial lifted the basket in his hand. It was filled with small, dark purple flowers. “There is a type of very toxic flower that only blooms during these hours. It’s best to pick it at this time so the stamen is easy to reach.”
“Ah.”
In silence, we made our way to Belial’s house. He unlocked the door and stepped back so I could head inside. I already knew where to go, and he followed me into his apothecary chamber at the back of the house, setting his basket down on the sideboard.
“Let’s see this stab wound then,” he said with no inflection. My mouth twitched as I took a seat and rolled up my sleeve.
Belial bent over my arm, inspecting it closely, but after a few seconds he straightened. “No need to treat it. It’s already healing.”
“What?” I looked down quickly, going still when I saw that the wound had already stopped bleeding and looked shallower. “But it was very deep—”
“You’re king now, aren’t you?” Belial shrugged and turned for the door. “Not quite so easy to maim anymore. Drink?”
“I—Alright.” Somehow, I’d forgotten that aspect of becoming king. I was almost impossible to kill now.
What a strange thought.
Belial returned and held out a cup. I took it and sniffed, my eye twitching from the overpowering scent of alcohol.
“Whisky.” He sat back in the other chair with a sigh.
Hesitantly, I took a sip. Gillie loved whisky, but I’d never tried it. I almost coughed at first, but as the liquid slid over my tongue, it grew smooth and mellow. I found myself relaxing, but I knew that was more to do with knowing that the gancanagh was gone. He could never harm Ash.
“I just killed the gancanagh,” I heard myself say. Strangely, Belial had always calmed me. Perhaps because I knew how little he cared about court politics.
He went still, his own cup raised halfway to his mouth, then nodded. “Caom?”
“Yes.” I focused on him. “Were you close with him?”
His face did something complicated as he took a sip of his drink. “Not overly. I used to… wish to be close to him. But he wasn’t at all interested. Until he wanted something from me.”
“What did he want from you?”
A muscle in Belial’s cheek twitched, but he managed to keep his face expressionless. “Coin. He told me he’d made an… an unsavoury bet with the reynards—”
“About Ash.” I nodded once. “I know about the bet.”
“Yes. When he found out Ash was gone, he came to me, panicked because he owed them a considerable amount of gold for losing.”
“Ah.” I looked down at my cup. “He wanted you to pay it for him.”
“Yes.” Belial’s tone grew the slightest bit terse. “I’m embarrassed to say now that I had pined for him for some time. It was only then that I saw what he truly was. Selfish and vain and cruel. He came to me because he was so sure I would pay off his debt for him without question.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Well then.” I had a sip of my drink. “It seems the reynards will not be receiving their winnings.”
“Was that what made you kill him?” Belial asked. “The bet?”
I waved a hand. “Mostly, but I’d already told him I would kill him one day.”
Belial’s mouth twitched. “I see.”
“I’d appreciate it if you could keep this to yourself, though,” I said cautiously. “I’ve always trusted you to a degree, Belial.”
“I have no reason to tell anyone, King Lonan. And I won’t.”
I believed him. Belial had never been interested in playing games. “Just Lonan is fine.”
He nodded, watching me with a hint of curiosity. “Will you tell Idony? They were friends for a time.”
“Yes, I’ll tell her.” I arched a brow at him. “Do you know why they stopped being friends, Belial?”
His head cocked. “I assume for the same reason. She found out about the bet. She wasn’t overly friendly with Ash, but I’m sure it left just as bad a taste in her mouth as it did mine. Especially when I told her that he had tried to get me to pay off his debt.”
I hesitated. Perhaps I was meddling, just a touch, but I liked Idony very much. She was fierce but kind, and assertive all ways except, it seemed, this one. I didn’t think Belial had any idea how much she pined for him.
“Partly because of the bet, but it was mainly for the way he treated you.” I paused. “She cares for you very deeply, Belial.”
To my surprise, a deep blue flush stained Belial’s cheeks. He fidgeted, looking down at his cup. “Does she?”
“Yes. When I returned to unseelie, we came across one another in the forest. She offered to help me”—my mouth curved into a tiny smile—“in exchange for my word that I wouldn’t harm you. I hadn’t been planning on it, but still.”
He stared at me in silence. “She could have gotten a favour for herself from an unseelie prince, and she… asked for that?”
“Yes.”
“I…” He appeared somewhat flustered, eventually admitting, “Idony has always… intimidated me somewhat.”
My mouth twitched again. “She is quite self-assured.”
“Yes. I…” He exhaled, shifting in his seat, crossing his legs then uncrossing them again straight away. “When we were young, Idony and I were paired up for a game of favours. She won, and the favour she asked for was”—he cleared his throat—“a kiss.”
I chuckled. “Ah.”
“It made me nervous,” he admitted. “In the end, she only wanted a kiss on the cheek, which was… pleasant. But I—I don’t have… certain desires that most others do. And while I liked her very much, I worried that she might want things that I… didn’t feel comfortable with.”
“I see.” After a moment of silence, I cocked my head. “But you ended up pining for the fae who was skilled at luring mortals into his bed?”
“I know.” He exhaled and shook his head. “Perhaps it was because that felt… safer. Caom would have fulfilled those desires elsewhere.”
“Well, I can’t speak for Idony, but I know she cares for you.” I paused. “And it sounds like she has cared for you for a very long time.”
The flush returned to Belial’s pale face, but he looked thoughtful. “Yes. Perhaps I… Perhaps I should pluck up the courage to speak to her about it.”
I shrugged, setting down my cup. “As long as it’s not just because you know the gancanagh is no longer an option.”
His nose wrinkled. “It is not. Caom and I hadn’t spoken at all in months.”
“Good.” I stood and smoothed down my shirt. “I appreciate the drink. And the conversation.”
“As do I, Lonan.” He got to his feet. “May I ask how Ash is doing?”
I smiled. “Very well. He just visited, and he’ll be returning again soon.”
Belial nodded, eyeing me with an unreadable expression. “Did your mother still have his arm? There is a slim chance I could reattach it, seeing as she made me douse it in a potion that kept it alive.” His nose wrinkled. “Which was quite distasteful.”
“Oh. Yes.” I paused. “I’ll ask him, but he does have a new arm now.”
He nodded. “I remember seeing it at the Midsith. Very impressive.”
“If he decides to keep that one, is there a way for you to… kill the arm? He wants to burn it, but is worried he might feel it while it’s still alive.”
“He would feel it. And yes, I can cleanse the potion from it so it dies naturally. Let me know which he would prefer.”
“I will.” I turned to leave, making my way to the front door. “Feel free to visit the palace at any time, Belial. You’re welcome there.”
“I appreciate it, Lonan. I will. I would actually quite like to see Ash again.” He was quiet for a moment. “If he wants to, of course. He’s probably still quite angry at me for poisoning him.”
“He is fully aware of what my mother was like,” I said dryly. “I don’t believe he holds a grudge. I’ll let him know.”
“Alright.” There was a pause, then, “I’m very happy for you, Lonan.”
I looked back, my hand on the doorknob. Belial gave me a faint smile.
“My dealings with your mother allowed me to see more of what growing up in the palace was like than most others. For your sake, I’m glad she is gone.”
I smiled at him. “So am I, Belial.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Ash
Pure joy lit up my face when I emerged into the clearing in front of the Midsith and saw Lonan leaning against its side, flipping his black-handled dagger end over end with practised ease.
“You beat me here,” I said as I made my way over.
He grinned, tucking the dagger into its sheath as he straightened to meet me halfway.
“Only by an hour or so.” He cupped my chin and gave me a deep kiss. “How are things back on seelie, Oak King?”
“All fine. Quiet. Nua and Gillie send their love.” I looked over at the figure bound to the old oak tree, hands restrained over his head to a low-hanging branch. “Was it okay getting him here?”
“Yes, fine. He wouldn’t stop talking, though.” Lonan rolled his eyes. “Pleading with me until he realised that wouldn’t work, so he started getting a bit vicious. Didn’t you, Cethlen?” he called over. “What was it you called me? A vile little cockroach that Mother should have crushed under her shoe?”
“I’m going to make you regret this,” Cethlen spat, hands twisting fruitlessly in their bindings. “Fucking snake.”
“What makes you think we’re not just going to kill you?” I asked.
“If you were going to kill me, you would have done it by now,” he snarled. “Don’t think me weak, Lonan, just because I cannot see. Wherever you’re taking me, I’ll find my way back.”
“I can promise you, you won’t,” Lonan said easily, crossing his arms as he turned to face me. “The threats got a bit boring after the first hour. Not very creative.”
I laughed, reaching into my satchel for the little woven bag Gillie had given me before I left. “Then let’s get this done so we don’t have to listen to them anymore. You ready to do this?”
“Not really.” Lonan watched with an uneasy expression as I opened the bag and tipped its contents into my palm. “The last time was… strange.”
“You didn’t like it?”
“Not overly.” He exhaled and held out his hand. “Give them here.”
I hesitated, looking down at the wrinkled mushrooms. “Why don’t I just take them? It wasn’t so bad for me.”
“No. I made the bargain, so I think it has to be me.” He gestured with his fingers. “Give them.”
After a pause, I snorted and handed a few over, then patted the water skin slung over my shoulder. “Hopefully it won’t take too long, and I have the tea that’ll make the effects wear off quickly when we’re done.”
Lonan nodded, then took a deep breath and stuffed the mushrooms into his mouth. He grimaced as he chewed. “Do you have anything else that will take away the taste?”
I laughed. “Afraid not, Holly King.”
“Wait,” he blurted around his mouthful as I raised a mushroom to my mouth. “What are you doing?”
I gave him an odd look. “Eating the mushrooms.”
He frowned, shuddering as he swallowed. “I don’t think we both need to take them.”
“But then I won’t be able to come with you.”
“If I can take him with me”—he nodded at Cethlen—“then I should be able to take you too.”
I looked between him and the mushrooms, then shook my head. “Fuck that. I’m not getting left behind if you can’t.”
Before he could protest any more, I stuffed three mushrooms into my mouth and immediately screwed up my face at the rancid taste. It became clear that they’d already started working for Lonan when he snorted with laughter at my expression.
“Okay.” I swallowed with a wince. “Ready. Oh shit, wait.”
“What?” Lonan sobered, but a second later he squeezed my cheeks between his thumb and fingers. “Make that face again.”
I let out a snort, but shook my head as I pried his hand loose. “No, seriously. Do we need to give some to him too?” I nodded at Cethlen, shifting uneasily on my feet. “Forcing him to take magic mushrooms kind of feels like a line we really shouldn’t cross.”
