DRAMA NOVEL ONLINE King of Merits: Chapter 10
Merri
along the city’s green-tourmaline pathways, thud over the sun-dappled meadow, then vibrate through the Black Forest, shaking birds from the tangled vines as we travel past.
Riven rides at a slow pace just ahead of Isla and me, the queen greeting tiny creatures with warm laughter and dancing sparks of amber and gold, while I stare at the Merit king’s broad shoulders.
I do my best to pretend I’m not admiring the starlight glow of his long-flowing hair, the stunning black metal wreath of intricate patterns that circles his forehead, or the ghostly spikes of jet crystals that are beginning to rise around the circlet. Wait…
What in the realms? Those ethereal spikes weren’t there a moment ago.
“Isla, look! His crown is materializing.”
She leans over Bainne and speaks in a low voice. “Amazing! The elements are reconstructing his power before our eyes.”
“Can you hold him if he regains enough strength to use those powers?”
“Absolutely. He’s in our land, Merri, so, I’m naturally stronger, and he’s still very unwell. Whoever concocted the poison that struck down an Unseelie king is the being we must fear and find as soon as possible.”
“No whispers of unusual sightings amongst the wild fae? No news from the mages?”
“Unfortunately not.” She nudges Bainne away from the edge of the ridge we’re following. “But we’d better uncover something soon to appease Lidwinia. To say she’s a bit upset at the moment, not knowing where her brother is, would be like saying your father only thinks a little highly of himself. A ridiculous understatement.”
A bank of clouds races across the face of the sun as an icy wind howls through the valley below then wraps itself around our bodies, tearing at our cloaks. I lift my head toward the slate-gray sky, and snowflakes begin to twirl down, their wintry kisses landing on my cheeks and open palm.
“He affects the weather,” says Isla. “But why snow, I wonder? When you first met him at the pond in the in-between land, was it snowing then, too?”
“It was.” I think of my dreams of blood and snow.
“Merri, go on ahead and ride beside Riven. I want to observe what happens when you interact.”
I sigh, my reluctance transforming into a gust of air magic that rustles a family of starlings from their cozy nest. “Must I?”
Isla laughs. “Of course you must. Did you leave your daring nature behind in your bedchamber this morning?” A blonde brow arches. “It seems this king brings out the wimp in you.”
“Nonsense.” I don’t contradict her outright, because I can’t—she’s correct. I click my tongue and Nahla trots forward.
The king’s spine stiffens as I draw up alongside him, but sweet Jinn turns his head to nuzzle my leg in greeting.
I clear my throat. “How do you feel, Riven? Are the elements helping?” To avoid staring at the spectral crown that wavers above his hauntingly pale face, I study the gold-flecked path ahead that winds upward toward the old tournament ground and the ruins of Castle Black.
“The pain is easing.”
“Awesome. You’ll be as good as new in no time and ready to head home.”
He scoffs, his expression puzzled. “Oftentimes, you speak so strangely that I have trouble understanding your meaning.”
“Really? For a king, you’re a little lacking in the smarts department then.”
His lush lips twist. “You see? You speak gibberish.”
“Well let me explain why. As you’ve taken great pains to point out, I’m half human. I’m sure you know that my mother and Queen Isla grew up in the human cities. Becoming fae royalty has changed them, but they haven’t lost their love of street slang, as they call it, and other earthly delights, such as pizza nights.”
“I see.” Frowning ocean eyes clash with mine then flick away to scan the trees. “What are pizza nights?”
“A special night of the month when my family congregates in the kitchen to stuff our faces with pizza. Pizza is…hm…how best to describe it? It’s a round base of thin, oven-baked dough loaded with cheese, a rich fragrant sauce, and sweet pineapple. You eat it with your fingers, and most of it ends up all over your face and clothes.”
I heave a deep sigh as I think of Max’s delicious Hawaiian pizzas. They were always the first thing I asked for as a child when I arrived in the human world with my family on our infrequent trips to visit Great Aunt Clare, who still believes we live in a country called Brazil where my father allegedly runs a charity for homeless children.
Riven grunts. “I have never seen a pine tree that bears apples before. And this pizza you speak of sounds troublesome. I prefer to put my food in my mouth, not smear it over my body and clothing.”
“Trust me, you’d like it. The way the hot cheese stretches and the oily, juicy—”
“Yes, yes. The fact that it brings you great pleasure is evident, but I have no wish to witness anymore of your ecstasy.” Jinn snorts as Riven strokes his neck. “If you insist on riding beside me, please change the subject. You’ve not told me how your Beltane meeting with the Shade prince went. Are you now blissfully betrothed?”
“Nope. He was as pretty as a peacock and his conversation just as thrilling.”
Riven smiles. “Ah, so he was a bore, then?”
“Yes. And worse…I watched him as my mother sang to the court. He stood unmoved throughout, with a sneer slashing his face. I haven’t seen Landolin in years. As it turns out, I could have waited longer.”
Jinn’s bridle chimes musically, making Riven smile. “Never trust a fae who is unmoved by song or music. Their hearts are impoverished wastelands.”
Huh. Does that mean Riven approves of music and singing? Or is he describing his own desolate heart?
I breathe in the crisp pine-scented air, then clear my throat. “For my court’s sake, I jumped the Beltane fires with the Shade prince, but we didn’t manage to clear them. So, he left without a princess on his arm and looked about as relieved as I felt.”
Riven’s brow creases. “And your family, are they angry at this turn of events?”
“No. Just between us, they didn’t like him much either. Now they’ll have to find another royal fae to marry me off to. Hopefully, the next one will be a nicer fellow and won’t mind a wife who loves hunting and sword fighting and eating left-over pizza in the middle of the night.” Giving the king a fleeting smile, I press Nahla into a trot, and we move past him into the dappled tree tunnel.
In silence, our party of three, or seven if I include the horses and Cara who’s sleeping under my cloak, makes our way around the old ruins, Riven’s gaze like fiery arrows piercing through my shoulder blades and setting my heart aflame.
We turn north and follow a brine-scented passage overhung with billowing branches that broadens and forks out of the thick forest behind the ruins. The trees quickly give way to chest-height, ash-colored shrubs, dragonflies darting through the dog rose that entwines them. These quickly yield to swaying grasses, a wide silver sky, and a dazzling teal-colored ocean.
Our horses pick their way down a pebbly path that leads to the small bay, their hooves crunching stones in a steady, reassuring rhythm.
As we arrive on the beach, the dull sky clears to a bright expanse of blue, marred only by a few wispy clouds brushing the horizon. Seagulls cry. Waves roll lazily onto the rocky shore. And now that Riven seems to have gotten his magical snow-show out of his system, it’s once again a beautiful day.
We dismount, letting the horses trot off to forage around the hillside scrub, and Isla carries a picnic basket to a stretch of sand sheltered by a low cliff. She spreads out a large cloth, then places her basket of baked goodies on top of it.
As she arranges the picnic items to her liking, Riven stares at me, his eyes agog. He clears his throat and asks, “Queen Isla, can I offer any assistance?”
Hand raised to shade her eyes from the sun, she gives him a dazzling smile. “Yes. You can best help me, Riven, by sitting down and eating all of the lovely brioche I made this morning. While you’re doing that, make sure your body takes all it needs from the Elements and recovers quickly. Then we can be rid of each other.”
Clearly confused, he untwists his eyebrows and bows low. “Yes, of course. I shall do my best on all counts.”
“Excellent.” Isla turns to me. “I have a meeting with Ezili.” She points to a nearby slice of land that juts over the frothy waves. “From those rocks, the invisibility spell will hold, and I’ll have a nice view of this cove, so don’t get any funny ideas. Either of you.”
With a grin, she glides away, sparks trailing from her fingers and embers glowing on the train of her gold dress.
A pair of sea-bright eyes drift toward me. My gaze snaps away and skims over sand, stones, sea, distant rocky cliffs, anything that isn’t him.
“What now, Princess?” he asks, forcing me to look at his well-built form and chiseled features again. His beauty is a cold, solemn thing and horribly, endlessly alluring.
I’m not lacking in the height department, even so, he’s more than a head taller than me, and I strain my neck to keep hold of his magnetic gaze. It glides from my face to my boot tips, then back up again, snagging on my lips. My breath comes out in rapid puffs as my thoughts fly back to Beltane night. The antechamber. Our kiss.
His lips quirk as though he knows what I’m thinking and mocks me for it. “Shall we sit and eat as your queen commanded?”
I nod and sink to my knees, then remove the rest of the food from the basket. As I place flasks of juice on the cloth, then pastries and several peaches, Riven sits opposite, crossing his long legs and looking more like an eager youth than a king of the fae. I pass him a flask and he drinks deeply before wiping his mouth and laughing. “Thank the Blood Sun for pear juice. Replenishing my life force is thirsty work.”
I pass him a brioche, which he eats in four quick bites.
“Hungry work, too,” I note as I eat my own, transfixed by the movement of his throat muscles and jaw.
Frowning, I say, “Why do you thank the Blood Sun all the time? Isn’t that the ceremony where you Merits murdered an innocent from your court every moon turn just for fun? Isla told me you hated it, fought against it, but if that’s the truth, I don’t see why you’d be proclaiming to be thankful for it all the time.”
“Shouldn’t you call her Queen Isla?”
“No. We’re not stuck up in my family.”
“What?”
“We don’t adhere to formalities.”
He snorts softly. “Then much has changed since your grandmother’s time. Queen Varenus upheld ceremony upon pain of death.”
“Yes. She’s still the same. You haven’t answered my question.”
Silver hair tickles my cheek as he leans unnecessarily close to collect more food. “My people are still attached to the concept of the Blood Sun, but I assure you, now that I’m king, we celebrate it quite differently every dark of the moon.”
“It’s still wrong to refer to it so casually.”
“It’s a habit. We are Unseelie and don’t fear our nightmares as the Bright Court do. What would you recommend I say instead?”
I bite my lip and stare at the smooth arch of his left eyebrow, thinking. “Perhaps you could call it the Living Sun.”
“The Living Sun?” He hums and considers it. “That’s…actually quite good. I could begin to sprinkle the term into future ceremonies and use it in conversation. For example, like an arrogant king, I could shout it at unsuspecting courtiers. What in the Living Sun are you looking at?”
I laugh and, surprisingly, he does, too.
“Today, I could ask you that same question, Princess. Every time I look up, you’re staring at me.”
Draygonets. I need to get my eyeballs under control. My face heats, and I knock over my flask with a clumsy elbow. “I’ve been inspecting your eyebrows. Their shape is very…um…kingly?”
He huffs, then polishes off the remaining brioche and four peaches, the whole time chewing and smiling at me. The smile is disconcerting to say the least. Also, I can’t help wondering if he took the queen’s command to eat all of the food quite literally.
“You’re not wearing your Merit pendant,” I say, employing my famous talent for stating the obvious.
His fingers go to his chest as though searching for it. “No. I despise them and only wear mine for ceremonies and special occasions. But when I do, it’s usually deactivated.”
“Oh? The King of Merits doesn’t collect the points and social statistics so valued by his court.” I say, my eyebrows raised.
“Correct. And I hope, eventually, all my courtiers will follow my example.”
“You could outlaw the use of them.”
“I could. But I won’t.”
Interesting. This tells me a lot about him. Perhaps Riven na Duinn isn’t a tyrant after all.
He wipes crumbs from his black tunic, then stretches his arms and yawns loudly. “I feel amazing. Alive. And so much stronger,” he says, springing onto his haunches and jerking forward, pretending to attack me. Shock, horror—the Merit king is being playful.
Scrambling backward, I raise wind magic in my palm and throw it at him. It whips long locks of silver hair around his wild grin and the spikes of that ghostly crown, but doesn’t stop him laughing at me.
With impressive speed for one who’s been bedridden many days, the king rises and stalks to the shoreline, the wind untangling his hair. Spying something of interest amongst the pebbles, he bends to collect it.
For a few moments, I stay where I am, admiring the set of his shoulders, the tilt of his head as he breathes sea air deeply into his lungs and rolls whatever he’s found through his fingers.
Like a bee chasing pollen, I stand and hurry to his side. When he notices me, he releases a long-suffering sigh. I am an annoyance. A nuisance. And above all else—his enemy. I can’t forget that.
My gaze fixed on the gleaming horizon, I ask, “What have you found there?”
He glances at the object hidden in his fist. “Nothing. Merrin, do you know where Meerade is?”
Slowly, my eyes meet his. “Your famous owl?”
“Who else would I be referring to? The overly large banded rat peeking through your clothing? The cook in your castle’s kitchen?”
“As I’ve informed you, Cara is a mire squirrel, not a rat. And how should I know where Meerade is?”
“You have air magic like Everend, do you not? She was with me when I was shot. She’d never leave me if she had a choice. I’m certain she’s still in your land, waiting for me. Try seeking her on the air currents.”
As a halfling, my magic is nowhere near as strong as my father’s, not that I’m prepared to admit that to Riven. I’m not sure I can succeed. “She’s your creature; does your magic not call to her?”
He scowls at me. “What magic do I possess at present? And for this outing, your queen has cloaked me in a powerful invisibility glamor, which disturbs my energetic frequency. How do you suppose my owl could penetrate a fae queen’s magic?”
“I see. Then, of course, I’ll try to find her for you. First, I need you to tell me about her.”
Riven focuses intently on me, making my heart pound against the cage of my chest, then he closes his eyes. “Meerade is the most beautiful owl you could ever imagine. Half her body is covered in snow-white feathers, and the other side is made of tiny, metallic feathers and—”
“But what does she feel like? Who is Meerade?”
Earlier, I thought his pleased-to-be-eating-brioche smile was heartbreaking, but the one he wears now, so bright and genuine, would make a Valkyrie cry.
“That’s easy. She is the most loyal, wise, intelligent, insightful creature and—”
“Okay. Okay.” I laugh. “That will do. Give me a short message for her. I can only send a few words through the air.”
“Then just say this…” He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Riven calls you. Come find him now. And, Merrin, when you speak these words, picture me here, my face, clothing, the backdrop, my scent.”
My shoulders drop. Must I?
“If you form an accurate image of me in your mind, Meerade will come if she is able.”
I close my eyes, spread my fingers and arms wide, and surf the currents just the way Father taught me, seeking the owl called Meerade. Within moments a sharp mind hooks into mine. Meerade—she’s close by. “I have her,” I say, then send Riven’s words to her.
Riven steps forward, his boot tips touching mine. He grasps my forearms tightly and whispers to his owl.
Immediately, powerful wings beat along the airstreams, making me gasp. At the same time, the king and I open our eyes and look to the sky, watching Meerade soar from the forest, over the coastal hillside. Then she lands on her master’s arm, screeching loudly.
“She can see you,” I say.
Meerade’s strange bisected head, soft white and metallic black, burrows into Riven’s neck as her squalling turns into affectionate chirps.
Riven’s face is a picture of happiness that I long to look away from, but can’t.
Cara shivers against my stomach, then pops her snout out of my tunic’s side pocket, growling at Meerade. For a timid animal, she often behaves unwisely.
“Stop that,” I say as the owl’s huge green eyes fix on her. “Do you want to get gobbled up by this formidable creature? If so, I’m sure Meerade is hungry and will be happy to oblige you.”
“Rat, rat!” cries Meerade as Riven strokes her feathers and chuckles fondly.
“No, my friend, apparently, it’s a mire squirrel. Her name is Cara, and under no circumstances are you permitted to make a meal of her. I’ll be most displeased if you do. Have you been trying to find me, Meerade?”
“Yes! Lost king. Lost king! Air princess stole the Merit king.”
“Indeed, but only to save my life. And now she is taking good care of me, nursing me back to health, so I can leave with you soon. Can you be patient and wait a little longer?”
Meerade bobs her head, and then rubs her beak along Riven’s lips.
“Any news on whoever shot me full of poison?” Riven asks the owl. “I remember seeing Temnen’s bird, Olwydd. Then the annlagh, which transformed into a woman and—”
“A woman?” Wild wind whips around us, and Meerade flaps her wings to stay perched on Riven’s shoulder. “What did she look like?”
Riven scratches his chin. “I can’t recall a thing about her. Only…her voice. I remember that at least, clear and sparkling like a mountain stream. It was very calming. She seemed a benevolent force, but it was a mistake to view her as such. What did you see, Meerade?”
“Smoke. Mirrors.” The owl’s eyes turn on me, blazing with suspicion. “Wind and rain.”
“Nothing but a glamor, then.” Riven sighs. “How disappointing. But I would expect nothing less. The creature’s power was considerable, its flavor acrid on my tongue.”
“Our mages will find whoever was responsible soon, Riven. They have to. Meerade, do you remember anything else about that day? Have you been hiding in the Black Forest, the one that’s nestled around the castle ruins?”
“Yes, Meerade hides. When hungry, Meerade eats rats like Cara.”
Under my tunic, Cara hisses, this time wisely keeping her snout hidden.
“Meerade, you should stay in the forest while Riven heals. If you need assistance or have a message for us, go to the red willow in the Emerald Forest behind the castle and seek out the green-skinned moss elves. They’ll help you. But beware of the golden-eyed air mage who the elves guard. Her powers are bound and suppressed, but I’m warning you in case your paths cross—she’s not to be trusted.”
A strong grip on my forearm jolts my gaze back to the king. “Could this air mage have shot me?” he asks.
“No. My father would know if her powers were unleashed. As would I—even as a halfling princess, my element is air. I would feel it. It couldn’t be Aer who harmed you.”
On the rocks, Queen Isla rises from her seated position as Ezili slips back into the water, the sea witch’s long hair trailing the waves like tattered seaweed.
“The queen is coming,” I say. “Meerade, quickly, you should go. It’s best we keep you a secret in case we need a trick up our sleeves or a helper in the forest.”
The owl and her master say their goodbyes, and Meerade flies into the trees.
Riven turns to me, smiling broadly. “Princess, I am indebted to you. You were under no obligation to reunite me with Meerade, yet you chose to help.” He bows low. Then wearing a serious expression, he places something cool in my palm and closes my fingers around it. “I want you to have this.”
My heart booms loud enough to disturb the merfolk kingdom at the bottom of the sea.
Opening my hand, I find a smooth, black stone lying on my palm. “You found a holey stone!” I hold it up and peer through the center hole at the frothy waves. “These are sacred, Riven, and this one is yours. I can’t take it from you.”
“You can, because I’ve gifted it to you. May it fulfill its purpose, ward off evil, and keep you safe.”
“Thank you.” I rub the black stone then slip it into my pocket, picturing the cord I’ll use to string it around my neck, so it will lie close to my heart.
Isla saunters over the rocks then the sandy beach toward us, her smile blazing. Her meeting must have gone well.
“Did you eat everything?” she asks Riven.
“Every bite. It was delicious, thank you,” he replies.
“Good,” says Isla. “You look much better, Riven. Your color’s turned from ash to snow, your kingly crown from specter to stone or whatever strange Merit material it’s constructed from.” She nods at his head. “Will it stay with you now that it’s solidified? How does it work?” With a hand on her hip, she winks, and a coronet of flames leaps upon her brow, twisting and turning.
“Impressive,” says Riven, his fingers smoothing over a dark crystal spike above his head. “I’ve often wished for a brighter crown.”
“Fiery colors wouldn’t suit you at all,” says the queen.
“True, they wouldn’t. As we near the Emerald Castle, my crown of jet will disappear again. Its nature is druidic and bonded with the elements themselves.”
“So it’s part of your magic, then.” Isla moves closer to Riven, inspecting his crown. “And you couldn’t change it even if you wanted to.”
Feeling invisible while they chat, I pack the picnic basket, folding the cloth and placing it inside with the flasks and empty wrappings.
“Was that your owl who paid a visit?” I hear Isla ask behind me.
Seven hells. Does she miss nothing?
Riven shifts his weight, his boots scraping over the pebbly sand.
Holding the basket, I spring to my feet and subtly shake my head at the waves. Don’t tell her. Divert her. Speak of her brioche, her flaming locks, her darling amber-eyed baby boy.
“Yes,” says the Merit king in his deep voice. “It was my owl. Your princess found her for me.”
“Oh, for Dana’s sake!” I cry. “Tell her everything, why don’t you?”
Isla laughs, clasping her hands at her jeweled chest. “What? You truly thought I wouldn’t notice her, Merri? I’m actually hurt that you believe I’m so blind, so unobservant.” Her voice drops as flames explode in a ring around the three of us. “So easily deceived. So un-queenly!”
Riven steps in front of me, his body forming a shield from the queen’s anger. With her fiery nature, often without warning, the queen transforms into an intimidating Elemental being who is, in all honesty, terrifying.
The circle of flames disappears, and Isla smiles. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just missing Aodhan and grumpy because Ezili was being difficult.” She sweeps Riven aside and kisses my cheek. “Merri, you can relax. I don’t want to know all of the secrets you and Riven have. Only the ones that could put my court in danger. It’s a pity Meerade left so swiftly. I would very much have liked a word. She was a great ally when I was detained in your land, Riven. Remember how she convinced you to trust me?”
“I do,” he replies. “Meerade is an impeccable judge of character.”
“And what does she think of Merrin Fionbharr?” Again, the queen laughs, this time at my face of horror. “Lighten up you two. You’re far too easy to tease.” She lets out a piercing whistle and Bainne comes trotting through the scrub, followed by Jinn and Nahla. “Come on. Let’s ride home. As I said, I’m missing my son, and my king is growing restless for my company.”
As I mount Nahla, the queen turns her bright-blue eyes my way. “What’s that you’re hiding in your pocket and fondling so lovingly, Merri?”
I sigh and steer my horse toward the dunes. “A holey stone.”
“Lucky you,” she replies. Then, as if I’m a child who knows nothing, she adds, “Take care not to lose it. It’ll protect you against evil.”
I twist in the saddle and pull a face at her.
“A holey stone found by another and gifted to you is especially potent,” Isla says.
What? How does she know that Riven gave it to me?
Riven and Jinn amble past me and Nahla, and a thrush trills from the trees to the left. The Unseelie inclines his head toward the sound, his eyes falling closed as he listens to the flute-like song with a soft smile on his lips.
I recall his earlier words: Never trust a fae who is unmoved by song or music. Their hearts are impoverished wastelands. Well, unlike Landolin the Shade prince, it seems the Merit king at least approves of birdsong.
My pulse quickens as I wonder about the state of Riven’s heart. By his own reasoning, I can assume it’s not a wasteland. Ugh. When will I get over my obnoxious obsession with him? Hopefully, when he departs the Land of Five.
As I rub a sharp pain from my chest, my gaze lands on a few long pieces of scarlet hair hanging from an oak branch to my right. That’s odd. We passed no one on this trail on our journey to Emerald Bay.
I slow Nahla’s pace and sniff the air. The strands smell fresh, newly placed, the color as vivid as lines of blood welling on sliced skin.
My eyes roll back, pictures flooding in.
Scarlet tresses.
Bloody trees.
Riven lying in the snow.
I shake my head to clear the vision and press Nahla into a trot. I’m losing my mind, and the sooner I get back to my chambers the better. I think I need a very long lie down.
And the king to be gone.
Soon.
Very, very soon.