CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
INISFAIL COURT
SHISTI
Clad in moonlight, Shisti knelt before the fire in her room and prepared to weave Azar's blood into the wards around Raven Castle and Inisfail. She'd promised the woman, after all, and even come to like her.
Enough to set her free rather than murder her, anyway.
The idea of disappointing Azar made some tiny bit of conscience inside Shisti uncomfortable. She hadn't thought any of her conscience had survived after her time in her father's court, nor had she felt guilt or regret for as long as she could remember.
Azar called them friends. In Shisti's experience, friends were just those who hadn't betrayed her yet, but Fechin's new plaything didn't have guile in her. She'd grown up feeling loved and protected. It never occurred to her that those around her might be plotting against her behind her back, or lying to her face.
There were more than a few in court who held grudges against Fechin, and targeting Azar would feed their revenge. Shisti had found herself in the unexpected, and ironic, position of protecting Fechin's woman. The man was so addle brained he missed clues he shouldn't.
The larger part of Shisti scoffed at the idea of living in such a state of innocence, but a small part of her couldn't help her curiosity. Though it was far too late for her, that was the life she desperately wanted for her daughter.
So, Shisti studied Azar, trying to imagine her daughter's face. Pretended Azar's genuine smiles, peals of laughter, and easy way with people belonged to her unborn daughter.
Thinking of her baby sparked magic between them, bringing Shisti's attention back to the work at hand.
The wards weren't hers, and changing them from keeping Azar in to letting Azar out wasn't easy. They needed a delicate touch — requiring a level of intense concentration that left Shisti exhausted, with sore eyes and an achy head.
She glanced at the Nymphs and Nixies kneeling around her. Nudity didn't bother beings so close to nature, in fact, they preferred a lack of clothing. Firelight glimmered off the faint blue and green scales of the three Nixies. Their hair was slicked back and dark, like it was always wet. The five slender brown-skinned Nymphs held hands and left their hair loose to blow wildly in the breezes Shisti's magic generated.
When she'd robbed Vilkos and his band of degenerates of the women they'd planned to rape, she hadn't given any thought as to what would become of them. They were supposed to disappear from her notice, like birds freed from a cage.
However, most of them attached themselves to her. More friends, maybe. This sort of friendship she understood. They mistakenly thought her some sort of hero, or that they owed her a debt. She hadn't acted to help the women so much as to rob the men, but Fae abhorred the idea of owing a debt to anyone. She'd not asked for anything — it was reward enough to irk Vilkos and the Wild Hunt.
Although most Fae didn't like witches, these women were fascinated by her magic, and in exchange for lessons, volunteered their energy for Shisti to draw on. The Nixies and Nymphs had plenty of wild earth and water magic compatible with hers.
Shisti dipped her fingers into the bowl of Azar's blood and drew the symbols and runes of her spell in the air as she chanted. Her magic turned the blood into a mist that drifted toward her window, seeking weak spots. Smaller than droplets, the mist seeped into fine cracks and imperfections.
With Azar's blood in the ward, Shisti guided the energy to the runes and symbols comprising the spell. Adding a tiny smudge to an angle, an extension to a straight line, or an additional thickness to the delicate sweep of a curve, she gradually changed the purpose of the magic.
The wards accepted Azar's blood, sending a slight quiver through the protections around the castle. The magic thinned. Shisti gave a tentative push. The barrier allowed her fingers to sink in, passing nearly all the way through until it bowed slightly. She pulled away before the magic snapped back at her.
Shisti released her power. "That's all for today, ladies. I'm going to get some rest."
The Nymphs and Nixies adjourned to their quarters — rooms next door to Shisti's, easily appropriated since no one wanted to live anywhere near her.
Alone, she cradled the slight swelling of her abdomen. As she often did, Shisti sent love and magic to her daughter and received love and magic in return. "Did you see how to do that, little one? Soon Azar will be able to leave the castle."
A thrill of magic was reply enough. Unfortunately, her daughter also loved the boy. Shisti tried hard to ignore him. He reminded her of Vilkos, and being forced to submit to the will of another. Forced to bear his child.
She licked the streaks of Azar's blood from the fingers of the other. It sent a hot buzz through her, no matter how many times she allowed herself the indulgence. Her daughter quivered in excitement and satisfaction as the magic warmed her.
Fortunately, she'd amassed a stockpile she could savor after Azar escaped.
Her daughter — sweet, pure, innocent, and with no understanding of the ways of males — shared the love and magic with her brother. Shisti tried to prevent it, afraid the boy would be an abyss who returned nothing, or worse, demand the magic and drain her daughter.
To her shock, this time the boy returned the same emotions and power to his sister, then sent a tentative strand of hope and love drifting toward Shisti.
Unexpected shame filled her. The child was innocent of wrongdoing. He hadn't asked for Vilkos to be his father, and she'd grown up without the benefit of being loved and protected. Could she do that to her child?
While Vilkos was his father, she was his mother. She remembered longing to be loved. There was still enough hurt, confusion, and resentment in her heart she couldn't wish that treatment on an innocent.
Being around Azar was making her sentimental.
Shisti took hold of fragile hope from the boy and embraced it, sending love in return. As if he'd been waiting for that acceptance, the boy, her son, flooded her with joy.
Curious, Shisti sent magic to him. His response was slower, and a bit clumsier than her daughter's, but he shared magic with her. The talent in him would need to be nurtured.
Sharing magic among the three of them chased away her weariness and brought a smile to her lips. She couldn't leave any child to Vilkos, his insane father, or the Wild Hunt.
Coming to an impulsive decision, Shisti picked up her knife and sliced both palms. Pressing her bloody hands to her belly, she whispered a chant to give her babies strength and help them grow faster. She monitored them for any sign of distress, but they each absorbed her spell eagerly.
She could buy some time this way. Vilkos would think she had five more months of pregnancy, but she could reduce it a few days at a time over the coming weeks.
Picking up her knife again, Shisti selected a vial of Azar's blood and moved to the balcony. Outside the castle wards she emptied the contents into her bowl and cut her palms again, mixing their blood with one finger. The wards definitely wouldn't accept Shisti's blood alone, but maybe mixed with Azar's, she could insinuate hers into the protections of Inisfail that kept everyone locked inside.
The cracks and fractures in the Inisfail fog accepted the blended blood, allowing Shisti to expand on the faults.
A few more casts should see the fogs weakened enough to free Azar. Then Shisti would free herself, and give birth to her children far from the Raven Court.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
DHIBIR COURT
BEIRA
The Queen of Winter traveled on the winds high above Alba and the ocean. Across the sea, the protective fog around Inisfail blew this way and that, stretching and thinning to reveal glimpses of the protected territory beyond. Her spell had been busily undermining the wards.
One more well crafted spell would fracture them.
Shisti, and the daughter in her womb, would provide an extra source of magic if needed. They'd shared so much power between them, they'd already grown stronger than Beira had hoped. The infant she'd created would be a witch to rival even her magic one day.
Traces of Shisti's blood twisted through the wards. So, she'd had enough and wanted to leave. That was new. And perfect. What Shisti wanted to use to get out, would provide an additional way in. Half of that blood had come from Beira, and offered a tangible hold she could use.
Opening her eyes, the Queen of Winter came back to her physical self and smiled.
Artemis would be pleased. Beira rose from her bed and pulled on her dress. She strode through the icy corridors of her palace to the wintry courtyard, then out the gate into the snow-adorned forest.
She found the Goddess of the Hunt in a meadow, one arm extended, the other bent, aiming her bow at her target somewhere in the forest beyond. Her chariot awaited use, empty harnesses trailing over the ground.
"News, Beira?"
"Now is the time. The protections have never been thinner. Once your Amazons arrive, I'll send you to Inisfail, and your army can hunt all the satyrs Gaia wants."
Artemis fired her arrow, not bothering to watch its flight. She unstrung her bow, stowed it in her quiver, and raised the hunting horn from her belt to blow a clear, ringing note. One by one, her six golden deer emerged from the woods. She moved around the animals and coaxed them into their harnesses.
Beira stood well back from the beasts. More than one person had been nipped or shoved around by the vicious racks of antlers.
With her deer in their places, Artemis climbed into her chariot and picked up the reins. "It will take me a few hours to get home, but Gaia can open a gateway for us to return." She waved a hand around the meadow. "Will you allow her magic to manifest here?"
Beira nodded. It would be easier to redirect an already open portal than to create an entirely new one. "Gaia and her magic have ever been welcome in my territory." She bent to pick up a stick, snapped it in half, and tossed one part into the center of the clearing.
She handed the remainder to Artemis. "Gaia can use this to find the other half."
"Thank you." Artemis tucked the broken stick into her belt, called to her deer, and they took off, climbing into the sky.
As Beira watched her go, strong but intangible hands slid up her bare arms and under the straps of her dress. The material pulled away from her skin and whispered down her body to pool at her feet.
Truly, there was no better man to enjoy physical pleasure with than the son of an incubus. And when an incubus freely offered his heart… She felt something that lit up her world, giving her the warmth that the Queen of Winter craved, but had no business wanting.
She leaned into his embrace, eagerly offering him what he wanted. He came to her so rarely anymore, and she was never sure how long he could stay.
"You found me, my love."
"You're mine," he said, like that was enough, his voice little more than a growl.
It was enough from the one man who thought of her as woman before witch. He desired her for pleasure before magic.
Her lover lay her down in the snow and rose above her. He was only a shade of himself since Ymir had ripped him from the world, but she could add the sienna tone of his skin, the purple hue and fierce need in his eyes, and the silky texture of long hair the shade of midnight.
Beira sighed as he covered her and kissed down her throat before biting, the sting soothed away by his tongue. He continued a line down to her breasts. Her nipples puckered, painfully sensitive in the chill air and anticipation. She groaned as he palmed them.
"You have missed me, cariad," he crooned, pressing one thigh so it parted her naked legs, the thick muscle hard against her core. "Not allowed another to touch you?"
He ground against her, arousing her so easily. The pressure between her legs consumed her senses.
"No one touches me except for you." No other lover would satisfy her. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Come back to me."
"Soon, my cariadon," he murmured.
Beira locked away the sudden sadness. It had been so long. He always said soon, but he never returned to her. She distracted herself by riding his thigh, his breath hot against her breast.
His lips teased one hard nipple while his fingertips tortured the other. He swirled his tongue around the pebbled bud, teeth scraping over sensitive skin. He groaned, sending vibrations over her nipple, straight down into her core. Her hips writhed searching for more contact along his thigh.
He moved down, dipping his head between her thighs, and slid his tongue between her folds, parting them. He buried his tongue into her pussy, stroking her, working her into a frenzy.
His tongue swirled around her clit, and he slid a finger inside her. Her body tensed as an orgasm built, threatening to consume her. She tangled her fingers in his dark hair and pulled him away. It wasn't time to come. Not yet.
There was something wild and freeing about her stolen time with him. All that existed in the world was the two of them. It had to be enough for now. She reached for his cock. It was hard under her touch, the skin silky.
Beira circled her fingers over the turgid, velvety head, teasing the gleaming drop of liquid that appeared. His breath caught as she drew her palm along his shaft and stroked him. With every pass of her hand, he pressed harder between her legs.
"I can't take much more," he growled. "It's been too long."
Beira smiled up at him. "Then don't. You've kept me waiting for so long already."
He dropped ardent kisses to her neck and breasts, making her shiver. She savored every gasp and groan she got out of him. He forbade her any other lovers, but wherever he was, he had none, either. He needed the contact as much as she did.
Her grip around his cock tightened, and he threw back his head, teeth gritted.
"What you do to me." He drew back.
She groaned at the loss of his comforting bulk atop her, but he turned her over.
The patient, teasing lover vanished, replaced by a being of pure need and hunger. When he lifted her hips, she braced herself on her elbows and her knees, readying for him as best she could.
He thrust into her, making them both moan, then drew back, only to drive deep again.
Beira reared back to meet his motions, and pressure built low in her belly. With every thrust, he stoked the fire between them higher. Her skin felt aflame, and he was the only one who could quench the burn.
His fingers dug into her hips. He reached underneath her with one hand, slackening his pace. She moaned when his skilled fingers found the nub at the core of her, rubbing it with a touch that was at once skilled and rough.
The deep tug of desire grew, but she resisted it, wanting it to go on.
Her lover was not a man to tolerate resistance. While she irrationally hoped if she didn't climax, their encounter wouldn't end, he thought the more she orgasmed for him, the longer they could be together.
He redoubled his efforts. Between his body slamming into her and his fingers deftly arousing her, she had no defense. In that moment, the witch was gone, replaced by the woman.
Her moan echoed through the trees, and a deep, primal pleasure seized her from head to toe. Her body arched, muscles shaking from the orgasm that he had just given her.
Waves of sensation drawn out to edge into pain washed over her, and his hands pulled her hard to him, as he spilled inside her.
This was the way it was meant to finish — him giving her his essence, and her feeling a kind of elusive peace. He kissed between her shoulder blades and down the bumps of her spine, then he pulled away.
Eyes closed, Beira lay perfectly still, feeling the last ghostly caress down her spine again. When she opened her eyes, he would be gone. If she waited, maybe he would return. At the least, she could delay the acknowledgement that she was alone once more.
She allowed the single tear to slip down her cheek. "Merzhin, where are you?"
Wherever Ymir had sent Merzhin, she hadn't been able to find him. It was one of a handful of times magic had failed her.
The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and powerful magic rippled over her skin.
Gaia.
The Amazons were arriving.
Beira sighed, opened her eyes, and rose to dress.
In the meadow, loose snow swirled. The broken stick rose from the ground. A line of Gaia's magic formed a zigzag rent in the air. The second half of the stick slid through and reunited with its mate. Ripples of nature magic pulsed from the repaired stick in ever expanding circles.
The portal opened with a final explosive push.
Artemis came through, the six golden deer pulling her chariot. She'd replaced the skimpy, mock armor she favored in Beira's court with her fighting armor and her chariot boasted a great number of blades and spiky protrusions.
Behind the Goddess of the Hunt, Amazons marched out of the portal and formed neat ranks. The women carried swords, shields, and spears, and wore fighting leathers with metal breastplates, hair either cut short or caught up in braids.
Catching the edges of the portal, Beira wove her winter magic into its periphery. Raw nature magic flowed over her, mixing readily with her energy.
"That's all of us," Artemis called.
Beira, deep into her magic, gave a half distracted nod. She formed a vortex around her. Thunder boomed as she raised her hammer and gathered pure lightning.
She spun and aimed all her power at Inisfail.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
INISFAIL COURT
AZAR
"Would you like to wear white?" Smiley held out the full skirt of a gown hanging in Azar's closet. The three brownies who had taken her care as their responsibility were more excited than she was about her wedding.
Wear white? Azar held in her snort. She'd been thoroughly ravished every night since Fechin kidnapped her. And afternoon. And morning. There wasn't a schedule for when Fechin wanted her. White hardly seemed appropriate. She was no innocent girl going to her wedding night. She was already pregnant!
"No. I think I'd prefer to wear a different color. Green." Dark green reminded her of the trees in her beloved forest. If her father couldn't be here, at least she'd have a small reminder of her past as she embraced her future.
Smiley turned back to the clothing, murmuring to himself. "This one is nice, isn't it?" He backed out of the closet, a dark green gown draped in his arms.
"It's perfect." Dreamy finished a braid in Azar's hair and pinned it in place.
"No boots," Bossy ordered.
"No heels," Azar countered.
"Be glad she's not insisting on trousers." Smiley offered an impish grin.
Azar had thought about it, but she'd learned about picking her battles during her time at Raven Castle.
The brownies helped her put on the flowing, long-sleeved green dress embroidered in swirling patterns with silver and gold thread. With the hemline brushing the floor, no one would see her shoes.
Mischief and Tricks flew through the window carrying red and black flowers woven in a wreath that they placed atop Azar's head. More ravens brought shiny earrings, bracelets, and a necklace.
Gifts from Fechin, no doubt. She put them on. Sometimes she felt like nothing more than a toy that he liked to see dressed in shiny things, but today she stifled the urge to feel resentment.
Fechin was a king. It would hardly be appropriate for his bride to show up for her wedding, however short and informal a ceremony, wearing trousers and no riches.
Dreamy offered her a bouquet of more red and black flowers with a sigh. Unsure about the colors, Azar nevertheless accepted the blooms. Perhaps the Morrigan would approve. It seemed rude to refuse flowers from Fechin's mother's garden.
When the trio of brownies pushed her to stand in front of the mirror, she didn't recognize the woman staring back at her. Had she lost so much of herself in a little over a month?
"There. You're lovely." Smiley beamed.
"The most beautiful bride." Dreamy clasped her hands together and pressed them to her cheek.
"Hurry, or you'll be late." Bossy pointed to the door.
Azar followed them from the room to the bottom of the stairs, where an elegant woman wearing a formal gown in orange waited for her, holding a lacy bit of green material.
"Is that for me?" Azar reached for the veil.
The other woman held it out of reach. "It's tradition, my Lady. A happily married woman must place the veil on you, so your marriage will be happy, too."
Azar held still while the happily married stranger played her part. It was a nice gesture, but also reminded her of how alone she was here. Shisti was her only friend, but she didn't like Fechin and probably wouldn't attend the ceremony. "Thank you."
"Of course. We're all happy for you and Fechin." The woman offered a curtsey with a rustle of skirts and hurried away.
The brownies led Azar into the garden along a rose petal strewn path.
Fechin wore all black as usual, with his long hair in neat braids. He waited in the center of the arched bridge across the fish pond.
Another stranger, dressed in a hooded red robe, stood at his side. A crowd of courtiers left an aisle between them. Only a few faces were familiar from the dinners she'd attended. Everyone watched her with happiness, envy, and expectations.
Azar's heart ached as loneliness and homesickness threatened to overwhelm her. Her feet felt like boulders as she forced her smile to remain on her face and take the required steps.
When she'd been delivered into Fechin's arms, the brownies backed away, leaving her stranded.
The red-robed man placed her hand in Fechin's and wound a ribbon around them. "May your joys be as bright as the morning, and your sorrows fade in the sunlight of love. May good luck be with you wherever you go, and your blessings outnumber the shamrocks that grow. May you always have a sunbeam to warm you, a moonbeam to charm you, and shelter each other so nothing can harm you."
Fechin slipped a golden ring onto her finger. The band depicted two hands holding a heart under a crown.
And that was it. A short ceremony. As Fechin had promised.
Music filled the air as Fechin led her onto a cleared grassy area and twirled her into a dance. "You must keep one foot on the floor at all times, or fairies might steal you away from me."
She laughed in spite of herself. "You're their king, aren't you? You could just make them give me back."
"I will always bring you home, maité anam."
Others joined them on the dance floor, and Azar found herself passed from partner to partner. Even Bossy partnered with her, and she found herself caught up in the festive mood. Her spirit lightened, and her smiles came easier.
Breathless and happy, she went with Fechin to sit at the head of the table. As they watched entertainers putting on a play in the meadow, he held her hand in his larger one, thumb stroking the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. "Are you happy, maité anam?"
Azar sighed. At this moment, she was. A part of her didn't want to admit it. Telling Fechin he'd made her happy seemed like rewarding him for kidnapping her and taking her choices away.
But she already kept a secret from him, and she didn't want to add to her guilty conscience with a lie. "Yes. You win. I am happy, and I love you, Fechin."
His joyous smile lit his black eyes, and he leaned toward her upturned face.
A series of thunderous booms roared across the sky. Azar tilted her head farther back. Overhead, beyond the blue sky, a layer of grey fog hovered.
Beside her, Fechin swore.
The fog parted, revealing a second layer of blue sky.
"What's happening, Fechin?" Was that fog what was keeping her in? Was her world under that second blue sky?
"The wards, maité anam. We are under attack."
What felt like claws raked through Azar, digging into something deep inside her and latching on. She screamed at the invasive agony. Her child!
Azar doubled over. Wrapping her arms around herself, she collapsed to her knees, then to her side, curling her knees to her chest.
"Maité anam!" Fechin dropped to his knees beside her.
Hundreds of lightning bolts struck the fog between layers of blue skies, tearing it to shreds. A few strikes came through and struck the ground and forest, setting the trees on fire. People screamed while others stared, dumbfounded.
"Go," Azar managed to get out through her clenched teeth. "Protect Inisfail."
Fechin changed to his raven form and flew toward the storm. Waves of power emanated from him as he rose into the sky.
Almost casually, a streak of lightning broke away from the fog and struck him like swatting a gnat. The blow sent him reeling, but he recovered, seemingly unharmed.
More bolts followed the first, one after another, breaking through his protections.
Body limp, Fechin turned human and fell.
Azar screamed, in her own pain and in fear for Fechin.
Ravens soared into the sky, aiming for Fechin. Each of them caught part of his clothing in their talons or beaks. Flapping their wings in unison, the flock slowed his fall.
The birds deposited Fechin in front of Azar. His body shook. Blood poured from his nose and eyes. The reek of charred skin and feathers assailed her nose.
Invisible claws dug deeper into Azar. Her blood burned, a searing sensation traveling from her fingers and toes, up her legs, and down her arms, to join under her hands, cupped over her baby.
Azar imagined she heard the infant wailing in distress, and her heart ached for the life she was powerless to protect. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she curled into a tighter ball.
Wind buffeted her back. Cool breezes soothed her fevered skin. The double blue skies and fragmented fog faded. She darted a desperate gaze to Fechin.
His eyes opened. One hand struggled to lift and reach for her. Their fingertips touched for a moment, then Fechin disappeared from view as everything burned white hot.
