For the first time, Nimeyah decided to attempt some queenly bearing. She lifted her chin. “I am not your personal messenger.”
Carrick leveled her with a smile that bordered somewhere between threatening and malicious. “If I find you’ve been harboring him without letting me know, I will lay waste to Faere and everything in it. You know I have that ability, and you know I keep true to my word.”
Nimeyah gasped in outrage. “The gods would never permit it.”
“They’d never be able to stop me in time,” he promised darkly. And he couldn’t give two fucks if the gods would hand down retribution for the violence committed against an entire realm. Finley was far more important than what they could ever do to him.
Spinning on his heel, Carrick moved across the throne room.
“Does this have anything to do with your last visit to me?” Nimeyah queried. She was asking about the information he’d imparted to her after the binding of her tongue. Carrick had told her everything about the prophecy and Finley’s powers, including that she had a twin sister in the Underworld.
And that indeed was the question.
Did Pyke wanting the Blood Stone have to do with the prophecy, or did he merely want the power for himself?
Carrick didn’t reply to Nimeyah as he moved past Rebsha to the door. Zaid followed him out. As soon as they were in the hallway, Carrick opened the veil and took them back to his condo in Seattle.
CHAPTER 2
Finley
I have no clue how much time has passed since Pyke kidnapped me from Faere and brought me to… well, wherever here is.
When we’d first bent distance and ended up in a bedroom, I had guessed by the traditional decor that we were back in the Earth realm, but I’m fairly certain now we’re not in America since where they are holding me is incredibly old.
I know this because I’m currently in a dungeon, and those just don’t come standard in modern America.
When Pyke brought me down to the dungeon, I took note of the carvings in the crown moldings, the stone staircases, and other little details such as period-dated doorknobs and hinges. I wasn’t a history buff by any means, but the home we’re in just reeks of something older than the modern era, and the existing decor and architecture seems old European.
Regardless, the dungeon is the giveaway. It’s complete with a natural stone floor, crumbling hand-made bricks, and what looks like decades of mold and slime on parts of the walls. It’s here that Pyke cuffed me to the spike in the wall from which a short, thick chain hangs.
Thankfully, the spike is a few feet off the ground, which affords me the ability to sit when my legs get tired. I’m also grateful that he recuffed my hands so they are now in front of me. When I plop onto the cold, damp floor, my butt starts feeling all kinds of numb given the chill down here.
I’m confident I can easily get out of the restraints using my magic, but it’s a secret I’m not willing to give up just yet. The element of surprise—springing my powers on Kymaris or Pyke—is far more important than getting out of these cuffs right now.
I figure I’m not in imminent danger of dying. Pyke and Kymaris want the Blood Stone, and they’re going to arrange a trade with Carrick. They had discussed this very thing in my presence, then Kymaris ordered Pyke to bring me here. I could tell by her immediate dismissal of me as a threat that she had no use for me in her presence. She is still utterly clueless that I have the ability to stop her, and I intend to keep it that way.
As for this supposed trade, I’m not sure how I feel about it. If Carrick keeps the Blood Stone, he could avert the prophecy, but I would most likely die at the hands of Kymaris’ fury. While I might be willing to sacrifice myself for the good of the world, I know Carrick won’t put me in mortal danger, so I’m assuming he’s going to give it up.
Part of me is relieved by that because I’m not ready to be done with this life or him. I immediately feel guilty for that internal admission, but I can’t help it. I’ve found the greatest gift any human could ever wish for in Carrick, and damn it… I’m feeling a bit selfish.
Regardless, I know the decision is out of my hands. Carrick is going to do what he thinks is best, which I’m sure means a trade.
Until then, I just have to keep my head down, try not to piss Kymaris off if we have another run-in, and use my time down here to start forming a strategic plan.
We’re going to need one if Kymaris gets the Blood Stone since that makes her ability to carry out the ritual a certainty.
Somewhere above me, a door screeches as it’s opened, and heavy footsteps come down the stone staircase that leads to the dungeon.
Pyke comes into view, carrying a tray laden with food and a glass of water.
“I assume you’re hungry,” he says as he squats before me. I’d kicked my legs out so I could lean against the wall to the side of the spike embedded in it. For a moment, I wonder if I could magic the tip out of the wall and thrust it into his heart.
I’m pretty confident I could make my magic do that, but I have no clue if the spike is made of iron. It could be a futile effort, and then my secret would be revealed.
Instead, I give him a grateful nod. My voice is small and puny, my hope being that he’ll think me weak and dejected. “Yeah… I’m hungry.”
Leaning forward, Pyke places the tray on my lap and straightens. The cuffs on my wrist allow enough room for me to pick up the spoon on the tray and dip it into what looks like beef stew.
I ignore him in favor of the food, figuring if they were going to kill me, it wouldn’t be by poison. The first spoonful is lukewarm at best and, by taste, I can clearly tell it’s from a can. But I want to keep my strength up, so after I chew and swallow, I take another spoonful.
It’s after that one goes down that I ask Pyke, “So… are you going to tell me how you got paired up with Kymaris?”
It happens so fast, my head spins and my stomach lurches, but the chains disappear. I’m not on the floor anymore but rather sitting at a table with the bowl of stew before me. Pyke is on the opposite side, sitting in a chair.
“More comfortable?” he asks.
I nod without hesitation. Far more comfortable.
Pyke nods at the bowl. “Eat up, and I’ll tell you a story.”
“Hope it’s a good one,” I mutter, and Pyke actually laughs. The spoon is still in my hand, so I dip it back into the stew as he starts to talk.
“I’m sure Carrick has told you enough about me for you to realize I’m a bit of an adventurer. Time in Faere moves slowly, and I’m easily bored.”
I swallow the food in my mouth. “He said you fought alongside him in many battles.”
“Indeed,” Pyke agrees with a fond expression. “But more so than the boredom of Faere, I was quite lonely. Being the Light Fae prince means no one is ever quite up to par, and while dalliances with all the fae ladies in the realm were fun, I was searching for more.”
I frown. “You mean… love?”
Pyke shrugs. “I wouldn’t have put that word on it at first, but I was searching for something missing within me. That emptiness was filled when I met Kymaris.”
My spoon remains poised over the bowl, but I’m too shocked by this revelation to even think about eating. “But how? How would you have met her?”