History of Fire

  There were all sorts of characters here. Some of the Unseelie escapees were short and stocky, others were tall and skeletal, while others still were moderately sized and wide. Many others were banished Seelie, never again to be a part of the bright court my sister Shade now headed. The Seelie were more concerned with appearances and tended to take better care of themselves in the grooming department. They were generally tall and slender with elongated dark eyes like flies, long wispy hair and porcelain skin. They also kept themselves immaculately clean with crisp garments and fragrant perfumes. Here, the banished were untidy, dirty, disheveled and some even appeared affected by iron sickness—withering, crumbling and weak. The stronger ones overpowered the weaker ones and kept them in order.

  Even the uglier more demon-like creatures of the Sluagh had some sort of ranking system in place. The trolls, with their moldy, cheese-textured skin, kept their underlings fed and taken care of, even when they smacked them around. The goblins were the most meticulous of the Unseelie, with their bulging eyes, froglike legs and pasty blue-grey coloring that made it look like someone had rolled over them with a huge chalkboard eraser powdered in dust. They were the ones who looked proud to be Unseelie with their brightly colored clothes painted with symbols to represent what clan they originated from. Their heights varied, like their gene pool couldn’t decide if it wanted to grow taller to match the height of humans or keep compact to hide better in the forests. I had to give it to them, they were all viciously evil.

  Scores of Sluagh filled the ranks and snarled at us, including some Draeliks—my personal least favorites—night elves and other ghoulish sights. Yet even with their numbers, the main ones—the Sidhe—also commanded the entirety of the armies of the Unseelie, a tradition which was followed in the Seelie ranks as well. It just depended on what side of Faerie and whose bloodline you were born into.

  A murmur fluttered through the crowd, and I narrowed my eyes at the moving body heading our way through the mass of warriors. He was halfway through the crowd, so I peered over toward Paki, who was finally standing on his own.

  “You okay, man?” I asked. Paki nodded, looking pissed to all hell. I reached into my pack and summoned an extra sword—a non-magical one. It was pure hard American steel from a sword smith I’d met in Texas. When I saw his workmanship, it wasn’t a hard decision to buy one from him. Now I handed the precious metal to Paki, a warrior of my sister’s court, without hesitation. I knew he wouldn’t leave my side again, not until we were safe. Whoever was coming was going to be the one we needed to speak to. Maybe it would be Oran or someone who could take us to him. That, or they’d order our execution.

  Either way, we’d go out fighting. No better way to die.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” he finally answered as he graciously accepted the sword. He wiped the blood from his face and grimaced to find that it had clotted and was sticking to everything—his hands, the sleeve of his shirt—and had dried into his dark black hair as a tangled mass. Still, his light brown eyes looked fierce, and I was pretty sure that whoever faced him down now would realize he was prepared to deal them a swift, certain death.

  The approaching figure broke through the ranks and entered the shrinking circle where we stood. He was a tall man, broad shouldered with tan skin and bright azure eyes. His hair lay in thin, woven braids laced with random ties of hemp string, beads and tiny objects. There was no mistaking the leader of the pack with his tall stance and an air of authority. The air trembled around him in tiny waves of power, like he was pushing out at those around him to keep his personal space intact.

  He was rare descendant of Arthas, the Unseelie Ancient ruler of Faerie. Oran’s power was once dwarfed by Aveta, the now deceased queen of the Unseelie Realm. But now, with her gone, there was nothing keeping Oran from claiming the throne from the guardians my sister had assigned—Jack and Evangeline.

  “Are you the brother of Shade, the halfling scum who’s taken my land?”

  I scowled but tried to show no emotion as I gripped my Empyrean blade. The guy was pushing it if he planned to keep his head connected to his neck. “Well, isn’t it your lucky day? I sure the hell am!” I narrowed my eyes at him. “And don’t ever call my sister scum.”

  Chapter Nineteen Oran

  Oran

  I swung my sword in an arc, just for the hell of it, to push back the Unseelie near my side who looked much too eager to rip us to shreds. I even gave one a start when I jerked his way, pretending to launch myself at him, sending him flying backward into his comrades, toppling at least three of them down in the process.

  I snickered. Unseelie are jumpy.

  “Enough!” Oran stepped farther into the circle and eyed us up and down with a distasteful glare. I felt Paki’s hatred grow, and I hoped he wouldn’t do anything rash like before. In fact, I was starting to think we wouldn’t win against this horde of Unseelie. We were just two souls in a sea of hundreds. It was looking more than bleak, and it’d be downright suicidal to try and take them on. The only way to get through this alive would be to talk our way out of it.

  I glanced at Paki again. He was shifting on his feet, ready to plunge his sword into someone’s throat. He obviously knew how to fight, but I doubted he’d ever negotiated himself out of a sticky situation before. I could do it, even though my mouth has gotten me into major trouble before. The thought of having to attempt to get out of this alive churned my stomach. I flicked my eyes back to Oran. He wasn’t as big as I’d thought he’d be. I’d talked myself out of some doozies after flunking my classes with the most battle-born teachers in high school. I was pretty sure I could weasel my way out of this one.

  But how? I sighed and stuffed my sword back into its sheath, hoping I wasn’t making a mistake by openly disarming myself. Paki’s eyes widened, and I motioned for him to lower his sword. He did so reluctantly, remaining skeptical.

  “Shade’s my sister, yes. But that’s not why I’m here.” I stepped forward, straightening and trying with all my being to convey that I meant business. I did. Our lives were on a delicate balance and if this went badly … well … I didn’t want to think about that. It was our mission to find Oran, and darn if I had found him. Now I just had to keep my head on straight and get the hell out of there intact.

  “She wanted me to speak to you. She heard you’re a direct descendant of Arthas, whom I’m sure you’ve heard has been placed back in his sarcophagus in the earth for a nice, long nap.”

  “I’m not interested in Arthas. He can stay asleep.” Oran pressed forward again, looking even more threatening up close. His face had a fine scar crossing diagonally across his cheek, slashing over his nose and down the other side of his face. His long locks were pulled away from his tanned face, making his eyes appear an even lighter blue; they almost looked white. He was a few inches taller than me, but not so tall that I had to crane my neck to look up at him. He definitely packed several pounds more than me with his broader shoulders, thick arms and legs.

  “I want you to tell your sister that I will reclaim my kingdom, where I am the rightful ruler, along with all my loyal soldiers and people.”

  “Uh, look …” I scratched my head and tried, for the life of me, to figure out how to go about this right. “I don’t think she’ll let the Unseelie lands go to you. She’s already got somebody on the throne taking care of it. Maybe you can talk to her or something, but she’s got it pretty much under control. Plus,” I leaned forward, “Aveta transferred control of the Withering Palace to her so that might be a problem for you.”

  I watched as Oran turned a frightful color of red-purple. I had to tread carefully or I risked being chopped to pieces.

  “She will do as I say or …” He held out a large, dirty finger. “Or she’ll never see you again.”

  “Um … so how do I get this message to her if I’m your prisoner?” I heard Paki inhale sharply as my smart mouth got the best of me. I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to be anyone’s prisoner. We would go down fighting if it came to that. br />
  Oran thought this over, and I could see the gears rolling inside that massive head of his. I wondered what Shade would think of this foe compared to the beautiful Aveta, her former nemesis. He definitely wasn’t as pretty, but I was sure he could charm the females without any issue.

  “You’ll remain here.” He pointed toward me and then motioned to Paki, who widened his eyes, feeling the sharp poke of magic from the Unseelie king. “You’re mule here will take the message to your sister.”

  “I have an army ready to pounce on your camp if you dare keep me here,” I snarled at him. “I will not stay. You’ll have to kill me and deliver the message yourself.” I felt the itch in my fingers to grasp for my Empyrean blade again.

  I hope I was conveying just how serious I was. Nautilus and Nyol were at my house with their soldiers, but they’d eventually track us here. They were that good. All I had to do was stay alive until then. If only they’d notice sooner rather than later that Paki and I hadn’t returned from the store.

  Come on guys, need a little help here.

  Why was I always in these kinds of situations? Living on the edge can get old fast, even though I thrived on these adrenaline rushes. But sometimes it wore me out, and I could feel the weight of it aching across my shoulders.

  “What’s your name, brother of Shade?”

  He caught me off guard and I, confused as I stuttered, forgot my name for a moment. “I—it’s Benton.”

  Oran grinned and started to laugh. His comrades joined in, and the chorus of sneers and chuckles echoed across the forest trees like there were thousands of them. I briefly wondered if our crew could handle all these Unseelie if they did find us. There were so many of them, which made me feel incredibly small and useless. I was but one person. Paki was some help, but there seemed to be no way out of this. Death would be quick if not immediate. My heart sank.

  “Benton. What sort of a name is that?”

  I gritted my teeth, feeling my jaw strain against the pressure. “What sort of a name is Oran?”

  He stopped laughing, and the surrounding warriors took a moment to quiet down under his hardened gaze. His army feared him, which was obvious. I wondered how I’d be able to negotiate with him further without losing my head. My brain wasn’t cooperating, and I was quickly running out of options.

  “I’m of Faerie. It’s of fey origin. You’re nothing but a pathetic human with a pathetic name.”

  I shrugged. “Depends who you’re asking.” I yanked my sword out and held it before me. “Now, you’re going to listen up, because I don’t think I want to repeat this.”

  Oran ran his gaze over my sword and snickered. I could tell he wanted it. The desire burned in his eyes. Still, I had a feeling he knew he couldn’t wield it without suffering some serious injuries. It was made for my family and my blood only. He’d either die from touching its fiery surface or suffer some severe burns. Sometimes it was a darn good thing to have an affinity to fire. If anything, I was going to burn the hell out of this army before they got to us.

  “No one is going to remain prisoner here. I suggest you return to Faerie with me, Oran, and speak to her yourself. You’ll be powerless in her presence, but I guarantee she’ll be fair with you. Who knows, maybe she’ll grant you some Unseelie land where you can live your life out to a happy little ending.” I closely looked for a reaction. “What do you say?” I added, seeing nothing.

  His smile melted away, and he stared at the sword for a good long while as he contemplated what I’d said. I didn’t think it’d be that hard of a decision, but something told me it wouldn’t be so easy to convince him.

  “You speak as if you know who I am, human. Let me reassure you, you know nothing about me and are quite unaware of what I’m capable of. If you did, you wouldn’t invite me to your sister’s home so easily.”

  “Seems we have a lot in common. You know nothing about me, either.”

  Oran considered this as he rubbed his fingers together. He looked briefly away then snapped his head back toward me. I could see he’d made up his mind and hoped it would take us in the right direction. Otherwise, I was seriously going to have a problem keeping my head attached to my neck.

  “I propose a bet.” Oran suddenly looked delightfully thrilled. My stomach sank. No one smiled like that thinking of warm fuzzy feelings. “One of you can fight my best warrior. If you win, I’ll go with you, unarmed, to see your sister the queen. If my warrior wins, he gets to deliver the killing blow, and the other will be released to inform Shade. What do you say?”

  I flicked my eyes toward Paki and found him sweating profusely. He was losing it. I could tell he was getting close to cracking. I put my hand on the guy’s shoulder, making him jump in the process, but he didn’t proceed to attack me. Good thing, too. I wanted to keep my limbs attached.

  “Hey, man. No worries, I’ll do it.”

  Paki gulped, and I could see the worry lift from his shoulders. Had he really thought I’d send him to do my dirty work? He must have, because he visibly relaxed. This only lasted a second, though, and his body stiffened. “No, M’Lord!” he said. “The queen will be furious with me if you die!”

  I shook my head. “I got this. Not dying today.” He was still shaking his head, muttering his protests, as I held up my hand. “Paki, stop already. If something happens to me …” I choked on the words, knowing they could be my last. “Tell my family I love them and warn them for me. Please? You got to do this for me.”

  Paki stopped shaking and stared at me, looking defeated. Worry and disbelief cycled through his features as he continued to shake his head. I didn’t wait for him to say yes because I knew he’d do what I said. He’d never let me down. At least I could trust my sister’s lieutenant. From the look on his face, he was committed to serving her well.

  I turned toward Oran and found him looking smug as he ordered the people around him to bring him a seat. They scurried and fumbled about, using magic to form a suitable chair. I wanted to shake my head at them. Insufferable fools. What a waste of faery magic to be at the beck and call of this man.

  “Have you chosen?” Oran asked, looking satisfied. I bet he loved to do this all the time, between his own men. Watch them fight each other to death for sport. How quaint.

  I nodded and stepped forward. “I’ll fight your warrior, but when this is all over, you’ll meet with my sister and discuss things with her. Swear to it.”

  I knew the drill about binding a faery to their word. Shade and my mother had schooled me well on how to tie a faery to an unbreakable oath. If not done properly, they always finagled their way out of it.

  Oran didn’t look happy, proving he hadn’t been planning on keeping any kind of a deal.

  “I swear it.”

  “Swear the oath properly.” The gasps and whispers fluttering around us let me know that no one really ever challenged Oran like that. I hoped I wasn’t making a huge mistake.

  He cocked his head as he narrowed his eyes, looking downright pissed.

  “Very well. I swear on the Land of Faerie that if you lose this battle, I will visit your sister Shade at her palace to negotiate the fate of the Unseelie lands. Happy?”

  I bowed my head, eager to get this over with. I swung my sword around and paused to stretch my legs and arms as I readied to fight Oran’s champion. I could take on any of these fools, no problem. Having to go through this was pathetic.

  The crowd rustled about and opened up on one side as a figure approached. Scores of Unseelie pressed against each other to avoid the approaching warrior. I finished warming up by cracking my neck and turned to check out my foe. Instead of finding a soldier of the usual Unseelie variety, like the ones who’d been swarming about us the entire time, a familiar and monstrous Sidhe faery who I’d only gotten but a passing glimpse of during my past time at the Unseelie castle filled up the far side of the ring.

  He’d been the consort to the preceding ruler of the Unseelie Realm, long before my time, which marked him as one of the old one
s, but he wasn’t as old as Arthas. He was none other than Aveta’s father, Seritus, who’d been one of her main advisors and also the training supervisor of the new guards at the Withering Palace. He was none other than the Elder King himself, an expert in every weapon in existence and completely cold and unfeeling. Right next to him, holding his sword and leering at me, was none other than the night elf I’d chased off before killing his friend in Vegas.

  What was Cornelius doing there?

  Crap.

  Chapter Twenty Unrevealed

  Unrevealed

  The Elder King Seritus was as emotionless as a person could be and cold as stone. It was no wonder Aveta turned out the way she had. With what I’d heard of her psychotic mother, who loathed her and even tried to kill her at one point, and add to that a father who wasn’t allowed to see her much and was as unfeeling as a brick wall, there was no doubt in my mind that could fuck someone up in the head. Still, I’d heard of his legendary fighting skills and how he kept the Unseelie army in check when I briefly served in the Unseelie ranks and had to bust Shade and an Ancient faery named Rowan, who commands the Spring Realm, out of the Withering Palace. I wasn’t looking forward to fighting him, even though I’d developed some pretty badass fighting skills while chasing down Unseelie rogues.

  Still, if I was no match for someone who’d been training for centuries and lost this match miserably, I’d be dead as dirt and not much would matter to me anymore, would it? I watched him as he rolled his shoulders, loosening them up under the thin steel armor encasing his body, which looked hard and impenetrable, like no armor I’d ever seen before. Maybe it was heavy and would slow him down enough for me to catch a break, but knowing what I knew about Faerie, it was probably just the opposite: light, flexible and durable.

  The armor was an exquisitely brushed metal patterned with intricately carved symbols rippling down the plates on his arms and over his chest and back, making him look like he was wearing dragon scales. Even his legs were covered in the movable plates. They made little noise when he walked and didn’t seem to impede movement. In contrast, I was wearing worn-out jeans and a T-shirt; it was quite unfortunate that I wasn’t wearing any armor, but the clothes were all I had on me, and it made my confidence take a nosedive. I was so screwed.