King of the Isles (21 page)

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Authors: Debbie Mazzuca

BOOK: King of the Isles
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“Uncle Lachlan, Auntie Syrena’s da wishes to speak to you and Auntie Evie,” Jamie yelled through the door.
Groaning, Lachlan buried his face in her breasts. Breasts he’d hoped to be touching, sucking, and licking in the next few moments. He lifted his head. Noting the look of concern upon her face, he sighed. “Evangeline, ye’re my wife. Rohan willna be fashed we’re sharin’ our chambers, he’ll expect it of us.”
She nibbled her bottom lip as he’d noted her do so often when she was worried. Her gaze flicked to his. “No, it’s not that which concerns me. I’m certain he now knows what happened to Iain and the part I played. As well, I have been using my magick here at Dunvegan, which as you know is frowned upon.” She rose awkwardly from the bed. With a flick of her fingers, the sheer chemise he’d grown fond of vanished to be replaced by resplendent amethyst robes.
That’s what he got fer marryin’ a wizard. She could dress without him gettin’ even a glimpse of her perfect naked body. He promised himself that would soon change. “Ye’re my wife, therefore under my protection and my control. Whatever Rohan has to say, he can say to me.” He stood, combing his fingers through his hair and straightening his tunic. With a surreptitious glance at the front of his trews, he deemed himself presentable.
He offered her his arm, frowning at the stubborn set of her chin and the indignant press of her lips. “What now?”
“I hardly need your protection, and as queen of the Enchanted Isles, I am most certainly not under your ... your control.”
She was the most exasperating woman he’d ever met. Here he was trying to soothe her worries and she acted as though he’d done her a disservice. He’d never used his height to intimidate anyone before but he did so now, towering over her. Somehow he had to put her in her place. “Aye, ye are, and the sooner ye realize it the better.”
“You said we were partners.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
He’d said a lot of things, including that he loved her, which went to show how completely in his cups he’d been. They’d both been, he reminded himself since she’d said the same. “Nay, I said there are some responsibilities I’d give over to ye and then we’d take it from there.”
She tossed her glossy black mane over her shoulder and glared up at him. “You ...” She grimaced at the sound of Ava and Olivia calling for their mothers, barely discernible above the insistent wails of the newborns. “We will continue this at home.”
Aye, they would. Not the argument she seemed to be gearing up for, but as soon as the opportunity to get her alone and into his bed presented itself, he would do so. In his experience, making love made a woman more malleable. He grinned at the thought; in his wife’s case, they would have to spend an inordinate amount of time in bed to achieve the desired outcome.
Chapter 19
Anxious to witness the downfall of the she-devil’s spawn, Morfessa hid within the shadows of ancient oaks beside the palace’s stables. Rumor had it King Lachlan had come to his senses and denounced her as his wife. If he had not, surely when Rohan informed him of what she’d done to the Welsh king he would cast her aside. Perhaps banish her from the Fae realm altogether. Or, if the angels had answered Morfessa’s prayers, in a fit of anger her husband would smite her with his mighty sword. His heartbeat quickened at the thought.
Craning his neck, he tried to peer through the crowd gathered beyond the whitewashed building to watch Uscias and the warrior woman’s sister’s latest attempt to break the wards. He hoped they would not be successful. The simple retelling of the tale would not be as powerful an indictment as the king seeing for himself what she’d done. It was one of the reasons Morfessa had refrained from offering his help, although in some dark corner of his mind, he acknowledged her power had grown beyond anything he’d ever seen. More reason King Lachlan, for the Faes’ protection, must kill the bitch.
The conversational hum of the gathered nobility and servants rose. King Lachlan and his evil consort had arrived. With an impatient wave of his hand, Morfessa caused those who blocked his view to stumble out of the way.
Uscias’s arms dropped to his sides while Fallyn’s two sisters threw up theirs when they faced the queen. “How could you, Evangeline? Fallyn is your friend!” the woman named Shayla raged.
“I didn’t expect to be at Dunvegan as long as we were.” The queen crossed her arms. “Really, Shayla, you don’t have to look at me like that. I provided well for them. Someone had to intervene. It’s obvious they love each other. I simply ensured they had the opportunity to spend some time together to work out their differences.”
Shayla stamped her foot, her hands balled at her sides. “That is not for you to decide! You can’t go around locking—”
“Yes, I can,” the queen said mulishly.
Standing beside her with the noonday sun glinting off his golden hair, King Lachlan with his great height and the wide expanse of his shoulders was far more intimidating than even his father King Arwan had been. Morfessa rubbed his hands in eager anticipation, certain any moment now the king would strike her down. But instead, he threw back his head and laughed. Morfessa twitched with fury. A member of the ruling class had been imprisoned for days and the besotted fool laughed. He should’ve known better than to pin his hopes on a half-blood who was more highlander than Fae.
Morfessa shuddered when she smiled up at the king. Like her mother, she’d managed to enthrall the man with her beauty. The responsibility to rid the Fae realm of her evil now rested solely on Morfessa’s shoulders.
“Evangeline.” The king jerked his shadowed chin at the stables.
She shrugged then with hardly any effort at all lifted the wards—wards one of the most powerful wizards in the Fae realm had been trying to remove for the last two days. Morfessa wondered what his one-time friend would make of her magick. Surely it would cause Uscias as much concern as it did him. He shook his head in bewilderment at the look of admiration upon his old friend’s weathered face, a look reminiscent of a proud father. Morfessa’s hope that he could turn to Uscias with his concerns evaporated. Although he admitted it had been a faint hope. Their longtime friendship had ended the night he’d attempted to end Evangeline’s life. Another reason the she-devil’s spawn deserved to die.
Fallyn burst from the barn. Catching sight of the queen, she broke away from her sisters. “You ... you ...” She stood there sputtering.
He held his breath. Perhaps someone
would
make her pay. The Sword of Nuada’s precious stones winked in the sun. “Take the sword. Strike her down,” he muttered under his breath.
The Welsh king sauntered toward the woman warrior, rolling his eyes at the derisive remarks her sisters directed at him. “Now, darling, Evangeline only wished to give us time to work out our differences.” He bent to nuzzle her neck. “And you must admit, for at least a few hours we were able to do so. And most enjoyably, I might add.”
“Oh ... oh, you.” With a disgusted shake of her auburn tresses, the woman stomped away with her sisters at her heels.
King Broderick winked at the highlander, then chased after his ex-betrothed. “Don’t be like that, darling. Come back.”
Obviously the Welsh king would not press charges and the menace was free to do as she pleased. King Lachlan wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders and together they entered the palace. She’d managed to ensnare the highlander quicker than Morfessa had thought possible. He’d dismissed the tales the warriors had brought with them from the Far North, certain she would never give up any of her powers to anyone—not even for a short time. But considering what he’d witnessed, he’d say the rumors rang true. It went a long way in explaining the king’s unnatural bond with her.
As the crowd dispersed, Morfessa’s gaze settled on Lords Erwn and Bana. The brothers looked as disgusted by the turn of events as he was. He’d heard something about the two men recently. He rubbed his temple, keeping an eye on the brothers as he attempted to remember what it was that had been said. Ah, yes, it was rumored they plotted the highlander’s downfall. He wasn’t surprised. They’d always believed Arwan’s throne belonged to them—first cousins of the late king and full-blood—and not his half-blood son.
Perhaps the day had not been a total waste after all. Of the two, Bana, with his arrogance, would be most vulnerable to Morfessa’s manipulation. The brothers parted ways at the far side of the courtyard. Staying within the shadows, Morfessa kept Lord Bana in his sights until he was certain of his destination. They must not be seen together for his plan to work. No suspicion cast in his direction.
He flashed to Bana’s home at the base of the mountain. With the mansion warded against intruders, Morfessa had no choice but to hunker out of sight behind a rosebush, waiting impatiently for Bana to make the long journey down the steps carved into the granite cliff. Bana’s vanity, like that of so many of the Fae men, would work in his favor.
The sun beat down upon him and he wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. At the sound of approaching footfalls, he pushed the shrubbery aside. Bana had finally arrived. With a quick look down the cobblestone street to be certain no one else was about, Morfessa called out, “Lord Bana, a moment of your time if you will.”
Bana, hand on the gold-plated door, frowned as Morfessa stepped from the side of the house. “Wizard? What do you want?”
With one last look down the deserted road, Morfessa shook his head. “What I have to say to you cannot be overheard.”
Bana quirked a golden brow. “Inside, then.”
Morfessa hesitated before he crossed the threshold. “Servants?” he hissed.
“No. I don’t wish my personal affairs to be bandied about at court.”
Though Morfessa paid little attention to the goings on in the Fae courts, unless it pertained to the she-devil’s spawn, Bana’s exploits over the years had reached his ears.
Yes
, he thought,
I’ve chosen well indeed
.
Bana waved him into a room decorated with a decadence Morfessa had never seen before. He averted his disgusted gaze from a painting depicting couplings of every imaginable and unimaginable position.
A knowing grin slashed Bana’s aristocratic features. “My taste in art offends you?”
“It is of little import, Lord Bana, especially considering the urgent matter I must speak to you about.”
Pouring green Faery juice into a golden chalice, Bana glanced at him, lifting a second goblet. Morfessa shook his head at the invitation. “Out with it, then,” Bana said.
“I thought you should be aware, my lord, that your plan to overthrow King Lachlan has become common knowledge.”
A shadow darkened Bana’s amber eyes. “Who makes such a charge?”
“The woman who currently reigns as queen of the Isles.” Bana set the chalice on the ornately carved side table and raised his gaze to Morfessa. “Why, then, have I not been brought before the king, if, as you say, the charge has been publically made?”
“From what I can gather, he didn’t believe it at first.”
“And now?”
“As you must have witnessed, the queen has enthralled him. I believe within a matter of days she will manage to convince him to lay charges of sedition against you. At the very least your property will be seized and you will be banished from the Enchanted Isles.”
The man sunk into the high-backed brocaded chair. “Why do you tell me this?”
“You are Arwan’s cousin and a full-blood with magick. I believe you should hold the throne. Not some fool of a highlander who allows himself to be bewitched. You must stop her, Bana. She has too much power as queen, she must be ... eliminated.”
Bana’s stunned gaze shot to him. “You do it.”
Morfessa could not tell Bana he feared reprisal from Rohan if he did the deed himself. He bowed his head, so as not to reveal his disgust at the lie he must tell. “No matter that she is evil, I cannot kill my own child.” His stomach roiled. “But you can legitimately challenge the king for the throne. Without her to go to his aid, you can bring him down.”
Scrubbing his hands over his face, Bana shook his head. “We all witnessed her magick today. I have no hope of defeating her.”
A self-satisfied smile twisted Morfessa’s lips. “I will provide you with a weapon to match the Sword of Nuada, and I can guarantee her powers will be little more than those of a newborn servant.”
Bana’s brow furrowed. “You are prohibited from creating such a weapon. But more importantly, how can you mute her powers?”
“As to the sword, sometimes the end justifies the means. You can claim you found it at the ruins of Mesa.” Every so often the earth around the cliffs of Mesa regurgitated relics from the battle between the dark lords. “As to her power, it is simple. Once you challenge the highlander, he will seek her blood to aid him in the fight. She will not deny him.”
“You’re mad! She would never give him her blood.”
“She has already done so. When they were in the Far North the king was gravely wounded and would’ve died without her blood. I’m surprised you were not aware of this.”
“I was ... I have been otherwise occupied of late.” The way Bana’s gaze lifted to the paintings, the reason for his absence from court was not difficult to deduce. “How can you be certain he’ll ask for her blood?”
“What half-mortal could resist the addictive properties of Fae blood, especially when it contains the power hers does?” And the evil. “He will use any excuse he can to get her magick. He will find it in your challenge. She won’t deny him.”
“It’s my life on the line. I need guarantees.”
“I will use a compulsion on him. Addicted to her magick as I’m certain he already is, and without magick of his own, he will be susceptible to the spell. He will not be able to resist the pull. I’ve heard he is a very persuasive man with the women. Seeing the way she looked at him, she will not refuse him. Despite those precautions, if I see no sign of her weakness, we’ll call it off.”
“When do we do this?”
“As soon as possible. I have heard they celebrate their union this eve. Issue your challenge then. Set the time for the next day, midmorn.”
Morfessa rose from the chair opposite Bana. “I will leave you now. On the morrow, after I ascertain she is powerless, I will leave the weapon in the shrubbery at the side of your house. That will be the sign that the plan is in motion.” Morfessa started for the door, then turned back to the man sitting stone-faced and pale. “Remember, tell no one of this, not even your brother.”
Staring at his painting, Bana nodded.
Inching the door open, Morfessa checked the street before he left the house then flashed to his apartments. But not to create the weapon as Bana believed. Uscias shared his formula with no one, and it was nowhere to be found in the ancient texts. Even if it was, Morfessa would not have used it. Bana wouldn’t need a magickal weapon to kill Evangeline, not with her powers drained. And once she was dead, Bana’s usefulness to him would be over. Morfessa could not afford to let Bana live.
For the greater good, sacrifices had to be made.

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