DRAMA NOVEL ONLINE King of Always: Chapter 9
Isla
nuttier than a fruitcake, a couple of ants short of a picnic. Doesn’t matter which way I describe it—what I’m getting at is this: I’m stupid. Why? Because all I seem to think about lately is Raff, the Prince of Flipping Fire and his dark-honey gaze, his distracting warrior’s physique wrapped in shiny fae armor. The mocking twist of his lips, his deep laugh, and intolerable earnestness.
And let’s not forget the way he looked at me when we played with fire together in the clearing on Mount Cúig yesterday morning. Ugh. It was intense and hotter than eating a bowl of Carolina Reapers in more ways than one.
And, lastly, there’s his unshakable arrogance that drives me to distraction and makes me want to smack the smirk off his stupidly beautiful supernatural face. I hate him. I really do.
But if that’s true, then why can’t I stop reliving his freak out after he ate one of my cookies? The shock waves of pain that rippled from him froze me solid, and I couldn’t raise a finger to help him.
One thing is certain, though, whatever the hell happened was my doing. My fault and mine alone. But how? Was it magic? And if so, I’d pay good money to know how to do it again—death by crippling sorrow could be quite an effective weapon.
Sighing, I lay back in my pretty red carriage as Ithalah Forest rustles past me, tilting my face toward the sun’s warm rays.
It’s the third day of travel, and this afternoon we arrive at Merrin Creek where the wedding ceremony will take place under the light of the full moon, and the court will celebrate with an even wilder revel than last night’s disturbing bacchanal.
Drunken faeries are unsafe to be around, and I’m considering asking Magret if I can sleep in her tent tonight rather than in my carriage all by myself.
In comparison to the crazy nights, the days have been chilled out, and it’s actually been a lot of fun visiting landmarks from Lara and Ever’s original journey together.
Yesterday, we enjoyed a lavish lunch on the banks of Fire River, and they reenacted their first kiss to great applause and with far too much enthusiasm if you ask me. I’d bet my pricey Le Creuset cookware set that the original kiss wasn’t quite that passionate back when Lara was Ever’s brand-new prisoner and she hated his Stockholm-Syndrome-inspiring guts.
I’m looking forward to seeing them get hitched again tonight. Their human-realm wedding was basically just a blowout party at Max’s diner. It was fun, but the fae version will no doubt be spectacular. Plus, witnessing their misty-eyed bliss as they speak their Faery vows will be super cute, if not a teeny tiny bit sickening.
But in the meantime, I’ve got a bargain to keep—a meeting with Sally Salamande’s mystery friend. Am I worried about rendezvousing with an unknown fae who may glamor me and make me dance naked for seven years in a patch of poison ivy? Or, worse, rape me and beat me and leave my body behind a log in a lonely forest ditch? Oh, yeah, I’m worried.
I remind myself that Sally swore I’d be safe, and faeries can’t lie. Right? Man, I really hope I don’t miss the wedding tonight because I’m dead. That would be a major bummer.
Stretching my aching neck muscles, I sit taller in the carriage, my gaze landing on the gigantic curling horns of Magret’s brother, Alorus.
Since we left Fire River and started following the creek through Ithalah Forest, he’s been ambling along directly ahead of me, flirting his ass off with a cart full of questionably dressed pixies. As if he feels my eyes on him, he turns and stops walking, waiting for my horses to catch up.
When he’s alongside my carriage, he bows, flashing a devilish grin. “How did you enjoy last night’s revels, Lady Isla?”
Lady Isla! If he could see me on any given Saturday morning, sweating in my kitchen as I make chocolate eclairs, he wouldn’t call me that. He’d call me a freaking wizard!
Smiling back at him, I pretend I’m talking to a normal guy instead of a creature out of Narnia. After nearly three days of his company, I’m still acclimatizing to the wonder of his curling horns and the fawn’s legs dusted with caramel-colored fur.
“The revel was great,” I say, trying to look like I mean it. “You were all having so much fun. Makes me wish I could—”
“Stop lying?” he quips.
My shoulders drop as I sigh heavily. “Was it that obvious I was freaked out?”
“Well, even if a fae had the Black Blood Prince staring at them all night long, they would feel a little uneasy. I understand why you looked anxious.”
Yeah. I never thought I’d have a fae prince for a stalker, but I think he’s mostly harmless. So far anyway.
In a swift change of subject, I lean over the side of the carriage and point at Alorus’s legs. “Is that fur as soft as it looks?”
He opens his mouth to answer, but I put a finger to my lips as a strange noise draws my attention. “Shhh. Stop, please, Bran and Bramble. Quickly!”
The carriage rolls to a halt, and above the rustle of leaves, I hear the sound again coming from the treetops—three pips and a long caw. It’s loud and shrill and exactly how Sally described it would be.
I look around the trees until I spot a bronze bird on a birch branch, its long beak opening and closing in a mechanical fashion as it chirps the song three times.
Alorus’s gaze darts over the trees, searching for trouble. “What is wrong, Isla?”
I force a hollow-sounding laugh. “Nothing at all. I just need to pay a visit to the bathroom.”
“Bathing facilities will not be available until we reach Merrin Creek.”
Why must faeries take everything so literally? I try hard not to roll my eyes. “You misunderstand me. I need to…how shall I put it? Um…take care of personal needs.”
He stares blankly.
“I have to…water the pinecones.”
Frowning, he cocks his head.
“I have to, you know, take a leak?” I blow out a rough breath. “Don’t worry, can you move back, please? I’m getting out.”
Fidgeting, he stands blinking at me as I climb out of the carriage.
“Oh, for goodness sakes. I need a pee, okay? And I’m going to find a private bush to squat behind.”
“I see. I apologize for not taking your meaning sooner. I will accompany—”
“No, you won’t. If you follow me, I’ll complain to Ever. Is that what you’d like, a dose of his scary air magic?”
“Indeed I would not.” Alorus bows low. “You will be quick then, My Lady?”
“Of course.” I lift the hem of my long tunic and run toward the trees.
As soon as the bird spies me, it flies off and flits from branch to branch, leading me deeper into the forest.
After about ten minutes of huffing and puffing through Ithalah Forest, branches scratching my face and tearing my tunic, the bird lands on a log that lies beside a pond of purple water. As I creep carefully toward it, I realize it’s not a real bird but a mechanical one made of whirring clockwork parts and gleaming hinges of gold and copper.
“You’re not even real!” I tell it, immediately wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. Fae creatures can be quite sensitive to criticism. I don’t want it to peck my eyeballs out.
Jumping up and down on the log, it chirps angrily at me.
“Stop that racket,” I scold. “I don’t have any treats for you.”
“But, I do, Olwydd,” comes a voice from the shadows of the forest. “Good work, my friend. You found her.”
My head snaps up. A lanky, green-haired fae leers at me from the other side of the pond. Holy cow, he’s a little terrifying. Crow-like and pale, a cold, dark energy flows from him that makes even the forest creatures hyper aware. Like me, they’ve gone still. Listening. Waiting for him to reveal his hand.
With a metallic clicking sound, the bird flies and lands on the fae’s shoulder, screeching when it receives a wriggly leech-like thing as its reward.
Heart thudding, I walk to the edge of the water, staying safely on my side of the pond. “Hi there,” I say in a shaky but cheery voice. “You must be Sally’s friend. I’m Isla.”
“Is that what the fire mage calls herself these days? Sally. Well, it is hilariously befitting. And I already know who you are. My name is Temnen, and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, human girl.”
Temnen.
The name echoes through my mind, warning bells softly chiming. I’ve heard that name before, but for the life of me, I can’t think where.
Long, green hair tangled like seaweed trails over his crimson travel cloak. His orange eyes are shrewd, their coldness lit with a predatory glint, but it’s the quivering, slimy bristles sprouting from his forehead like anteaters’ tongues that unnerve me the most.
A stray fact from seventh-grade springs to mind and blurts out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Giant anteaters are great swimmers.”
A chuckle rumbles from his chest as he checks me out, peering down the thin blade of his nose. “I do not know these ant reaper creatures you speak of. Have you brought a specimen from your realm?”
Fighting the urge to run, I say, “Uh, no. I have no anteaters with me. It’s just a little fact I remembered from biology class. Thought you might be interested in it.”
“Aren’t you a strange one?” he muses.
Right back at you, sir. Times one hundred.
With a flick of his cloak, he reveals an unusual pendant hanging over his chest. Set in an ornate frame, its mirror-like surface flashes images and a scrolling series of numbers. When he notices me staring at it, his thin nostrils flare and quiver. “Would you like to view my statistics?” he asks eagerly, petting the screen like it’s a precious object.
“What is that thing?”
“It collates and analyzes all my data,” he states proudly. “It also shows the current total of my Merit points, which are of course exceedingly high.”
“You’re a Merit!” My heart somersaults, then beats hard and fast.
Smiling, he sweeps a regal bow. “Prince Temnen of the Court of Merits at your service. You are, of course, honored to meet me.”
Definitely not.
“Why would Sally want me to meet you? You’re the enemy!” I splutter. “What do you want from me?”
“Although I admit you will be an infinite source of amusement for my court, in truth, I personally do not want much from you at all. It is the fae connected to you who concern me greatly. The Elemental nature worshipers, those Court of Five savages.” Sneering, he hisses in a long breath. “In particular, I am interested in the fire-breathing heathen, the Black Blood heir, the great hope of the Seelie court, Prince Rafael Leon Fionbharr himself.”
I blink once in shock, and when I open my eyes, Temnen is beside me, eyes flashing with fury. “Do not think too highly of yourself, yellow-haired girl. You are only the tasty bait in this trap.”
Okay. This is bad. Catastrophically bad. I’ve got to get out of here right now! My head whips around wildly. Should I climb a tree? Jump in the pond and hope it’s a portal to a better world where evil faeries don’t exist? No, stupid, just run. Run now!
I lunge sideways, and Temnen snatches me by the shoulders and drags me close, the bird flapping and squawking on top of his head as though it’s the one being attacked. “Not so fast, little pale head,” snarls the Merit.
Pale head? With those sickening green tresses of his, I don’t think he’s a very good judge of hair color. As a fae, he could have glamored up any hue of green—striking emerald, cool mint, or even bright lime locks, but instead he’s chosen a gross shade of rotting kelp. A major fashion blunder if ever I’ve seen one.
“Can you let me go?” I try wriggling out of his grip, further ripping my tunic. “This is all wrong! Sally swore I wouldn’t be hurt.”
“Be still. It is as she promised. I’m not hurting you, mortal girl. I’m kidnapping you. Did Sally swear to you that would not occur?”
“No, she didn’t,” I growl, dire reality settling like stones in my gut. “Well guess what, Bug Face? Someone from the Seelie court saw me duck into the trees. So, if I don’t rejoin the procession in a few minutes, he’ll tell Ever and Raff and then you’ll be screwed. Are you prepared to start a war with the Elementals?”
His snickering laugh makes me shudder. “You are very naive for a relative of Everend’s. Has he told you nothing about we Merits?”
“Nope. I guess you’re not important enough to talk about.”
He struts around me snarling like a rabid dog. “You lie. I’ve been watching you since you entered Ithalah Forest. As soon as you left the satyr fae’s side, I presented myself as a maiden fair and stole his entire memory of your little chat. By now, he’s most likely forgotten you exist.”
Well then, I’m done for. Nausea rolls through me. “Where are you taking me?”
“South to the Land of Merits where we will wait for Prince Rafael to come to your rescue. If you travel meekly, you may survive the journey.”
“Wait…”
Temnen’s eyes roll back into his head, and still clutching me by the shoulders, he shakes and shudders, morphing right in front of my eyes into a tar-black stallion with wings. Hot steam curls from the bleached-white maw at the end of his skull, bones and mechanical parts pushing through leathery skin. A grotesque vision, the hot stench and sound of its wretched breathing unbearable.
“Shit shit shit,” I say, forgetting my vow to Lara not to swear while in Faery, as the creature grips my clothes by its teeth and tosses me onto its back.
I land with a grunt of pain, wrapping my arms around its sinewy neck, and before I have a chance to scream, we’re in the air, soaring toward an amber moon that’s rising in a dusky purple sky.
A voice like death itself comes from the creature’s mouth. “Merit bound by metal fast wound. Coil to darkening sky, thrice around. Little human, cannot be found, by Seelie sight, touch, and sound.”
My cheek pressed against the horrible beast who was Temnen, I squeeze my eyes shut as he darts into a bank of smoky clouds that swallow us whole.
To stop my brain from exploding in terror, I run through the recipe for double chocolate profiteroles with salted caramel cream, picturing my kitchen, my scales, and me measuring out each item with care and precision. All things considered, this distraction works well enough until the skeleton horse roars, the sound vibrating my spine.
Then everything goes black, and I dissolve into nothing, becoming one with the night sky and the planets whizzing by. Just like when I traveled through the portal. This time, I’m pretty sure I’m dying, but if that’s true, why am I still conscious, spinning nauseously, and awake through every terrifying moment?
Life often seems unfair. But if this is death—it sucks big time.