Kings: Chaos Book 5.5 (5 page)

And as distant as he forced himself to remain from Scarlet, he often dreamt of her being suffocated in her cot. There was no way around it. Love and affection weakened him. He had to do better, gain power, and become more like the king his court really needed.

“Did something happen?” Sorcha asked.

He shook his head. “I ordered an innocent man to death, and then there was… It doesn’t matter now.”

“It is I who need death,” she said softly. “You only order men to death to sustain me, to feed
me
, to give me strength. This is my death, not yours.”

He looked at Sorcha, his sin-eater, and wondered how he would exist without her to take responsibility for his burdens and guilt.

He faced the window to avoid looking at how haggard the banshee had grown. But something grabbed his attention, someone approaching the castle. A large, bulky faery horse.
Dubh
. Did that mean…?

His heart jumped in his chest. Had Cara come to him? Right when he needed her? But no. He deflated. The queen of the Chaos Court would hardly be riding alone into strange territory. It was a messenger. Important, no doubt, if they arrived on
Dubh
.

“I must go,” he said. “Stay well.”

He left the room and met Dymphna in the hallway. Two tall, muscular
daoine
sídhe
were now stationed outside his wife’s room. One less thing to worry about.

“
Dubh
is on his way,” he told Dymphna. “Let’s take a look at my room before going to see what the message is.”

“Do you think it’s trouble?” Dymphna asked worriedly.

“Likely so. Why else would she send
Dubh
?”

They strode quickly down the hallway to the quarters he now lived in. He and Sorcha had slowly moved closer together, a literal sign of their relationship transforming into a shaky friendship.

“I’m worried about Sorcha,” he admitted as they walked. “She doesn’t look well.”

“When I was pregnant with
Eithne
, I spent three months throwing up everything that passed my lips,” she said. “And remember how Cara would weaken and faint?”

He nodded, but Cara had been capable of riding a horse at the time. Sorcha couldn’t lift up her head without help.

They reached his room and stared at the red X on his door, too.

“Bastards,” he murmured.

He caught hold of a passing servant. She shivered in his grip, her eyes darting in every direction but the door.

“Clean this mess up,” he commanded. “And let it be known that someone will lose their hands for this.”

Subdued, she nodded and ran when Drake let go of her arm.

“Come on,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Let’s go see what went wrong this time.”

News had apparently travelled fast. Whispers followed the pair wherever they walked, and Drake couldn’t be sure if it was the messenger, the bloody X’s, or the pregnancy rumours that had his court in such a tizzy.

A group of
fae
, servants and nobles alike, had gathered outside. Drake and Dymphna bypassed the crowd. He ignored the fawning and the cold stares alike to stand apart. More of the
daoine
sídhe
blocked him from the crowd as if by magic. It was slowly occurring to him that he took charge of very little in his own court. The commands were known and accepted, and he never had to say a word. Initially, he had thought it a sign of his power, but now he wondered if he were being managed instead. Perhaps that was how he had ended up with bloody warnings on his bedroom door.

Dubh
finally came to a stop before them, the black faery horse’s muscular body sweating from the vigorous run.

A short, squat, wrinkled old woman with blue eyes hopped off the horse’s back and heaved a weary sigh. “These journeys are so uncomfortable,” the
Miacha
said, one of many near-identical healer sisters.

“What’s happened?” Dymphna asked.

“Does Cara need help?” Drake said.

Blue Eyes blinked a couple of times in confusion. “Well, no. She’s in good health.”

“Then why are you here?”

The
Miacha
looked surprised. “Was she wrong?”

“
Who
?” Drake asked through gritted teeth. Why wouldn’t the woman just spit out why she had arrived?

“Cara sent me.” The
Miacha
began to unload her bags from
Dubh
who stamped his feet crossly.

“Somebody take care of the horse,” Drake commanded. “Carefully. He bites.”

A groom approached warily, but
Dubh
behaved as he was led away. When they were out of sight, the groom screamed with pain. Some things never changed.

Drake tried again with the old woman. “Why did Cara send you?”

The
Miacha’s
eyes narrowed as she focused on him. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze before repeating his question.

Blue Eyes scratched her chin. “Why, for the baby, of course! There
is
a baby, isn’t there?”

His stomach bottomed out. Cara knew. Drake glared at Dymphna. “Did you tell her? Did you actually go behind my back and send word to Cara about Sorcha?
Damnit
, Dymphna. I wanted to tell her myself.”

“Me? Of course I didn’t. I wouldn’t do that. Maybe rumours spread to her from the court. You know the
fae
here are wondering about Sorcha’s illness.”

“Oh, I doubt anybody told her,” Blue Eyes said. “Cara knew Sorcha was sick, and she sent
Dubh
to us with a message saying that she suspected Sorcha was with child, and if so, she needed the best of care.”

Drake couldn’t have been more astonished if she had spat in his eyes. “You’re telling me that Cara somehow guessed my wife is with child and sent you here to help?”

“Exactly,” Blue Eyes said brightly. “Don’t worry. I’m good with children. I helped Cara give birth, after all. We decided I was the best candidate. I have herbs and potions with me, probably too many, but you can never be too careful. Now I’ve never been a midwife to a banshee before,” she prattled, patting his arm. “But I’m confident that this will be like any other delivery.”

“She’s… she’s not ready to deliver yet.”

“Good,” Blue Eyes said. “It’ll give me more time to settle in and help her.”

“You don’t understand,” Drake said. “She’s very sick.”

“Oh, never mind that. Men always think pregnancy is an illness.”

“In this case,” Dymphna said, “I think he’s right. She does seem to be quite unwell.”

For the first time, the
Miacha
faltered. “Well, then.” She raised herself up to her full height. “It’s a good thing I’m here, isn’t it?” She frowned at the astonished Silver King. “Now, now. Hurry up. Show me the queen. We need to get started.”

And the king swallowed hard, pushing the bubbling emotions back in their places. Cara hadn’t come, but she had sent something even better in her place.

Chapter Five

Brendan

Bran’s eyes fluttered open two days later.

“Well, it’s about time,” Brendan said lightly, gesturing to one of the soldiers at the door to go fetch fresh water. He had been truly concerned, but he didn’t want Bran to worry unnecessarily.

Bran tried to sit up, blanched, and then fell back against the pillow. He attempted to speak, but couldn’t, so Brendan bade him to be silent. When the soldier returned, Brendan made Bran drink some honey and water. Bran spluttered his way through the first sip then drank deeply until Brendan took the fluids away.

“I’ll bring you some clear soup soon,” Brendan said to fill the silence.

Bran rested his head on the pillow, looking exhausted. “Where am I?” he asked after a few minutes.

“My cabin.”

“Your bed?” Bran’s eyes widened, and he tried to get up.

“Don’t be foolish,” Brendan said. “You saved my life, Bran. The least I can do is let you sleep in a better cabin.”

“I don’t remember what happened,” Bran admitted.

The king joined his hands, twining his fingers as if holding his strength together. “There was a terrible storm. I thought we would be lost at sea. A mast cracked and fell. You were hit in the head pushing me out of the way. Enough of the heroics, Bran. You’ve been in here for two days. On the plus side, you haven’t thrown up.”

“I’m feeling better,” Bran said. “Any sign of… anything?”

“Not yet. Soon though. I’m sure it’ll be soon.”

He
hoped
. He was tired of the boat, of the motion, of the taste of salt on his lips. Exhausted by Yvette’s constant hints. It wasn’t right to marry yet, not on such a journey. Not when… He knew he was making excuses. He knew it, but he didn’t care. He had goodbyes to say before he finally agreed to Yvette’s requests.

His kingdom expected a sacrifice, desperately needed one to feel safe, and he was the only person who could give it them. It was his duty. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t hold off for as long as possible. It didn’t mean he couldn’t find a sliver of joy first. His shoulders slumped. Cara would hate him if he married, even if she didn’t mean to. She couldn’t be friends with Yvette, and he would be as miserable as Drake. When had he become so morose?

The soldier at the door cleared her throat. “Shall I fetch him the broth? Saves you…”

She didn’t have to finish the sentence. Even his soldiers sensed his willingness to avoid Yvette.

“Please,” he said.

When she returned, he took the bowl and allowed the younger
fae
a few mouthfuls. “We don’t want to overdo it.”

Bran yawned loudly, his periwinkle veins fading slightly. Unlike some
fae
, Bran freely displayed his wings. They stretched out beneath him like a halo. As a child, Brendan had wished to know what it was like to have wings. After a number of months in Drake’s body, he could safely say he never wanted to go back.

“Get some rest.”

“I’ve been asleep for two days.”

“That was healing. Now it’s time for resting. Listen to your king, boy.”

Bran obediently closed his eyes. Soon, his breathing slowed.

Brendan left him to go to the upper deck for some air. He stalked the deck, growing more restless by the second. He needed a release. He needed to hunt, to kill, to do
something
.

“You look stressed,” Yvette said from over his shoulder. “Is Bran still unwell?”

Brendan stifled a groan. He realised there was a limited amount of space on the boat, but the woman showed up everywhere he turned.

“He’s improving.” He forced himself to smile when he turned to face her. She was perfectly pleasant, beautiful to look at, and rarely argumentative, so what was his problem?

“I know how you feel,” she said, making him flinch. “I’m restless, too.”

He laughed. “I admit, I could do with a decent hunt on a good horse. I miss steady land, and the Great Forest, and… so many other things.”

“We’ll find land soon. From the stories, the
daoine
sídhe
who fled were in a smaller boat than this. They couldn’t have made it much farther.”

He gazed out at the sea. Unless the storm had blown them far away from land. He fought off that thought. The last thing his soldiers needed was his pessimism to bring them down.

“Well.”
 
Yvette gently touched his chin to make him look at her. The heat in her eyes likely matched his own. “There’s plenty of entertainment for you here, too. Just follow me to my room and see.”

He watched her leave. He was tempted. It was a couple of years of stress that he needed to work off. He ran his hands across his face. If he had any sense, he would follow Yvette and play nice. If he had any sense, he would never have had a
human
in his company long enough to—

A shout from the crow’s nest drew his attention upward.

“Land ahoy!” the sailor cried out joyfully.

Brendan’s legs weakened. They had made it. Finally, they had crossed the treacherous sea.

***

It took another two days to reach land. Brendan, accompanied by Bran and the four volunteers, gathered at the stern and watched as the island grew before them.

One of the soldiers, a petite female named
Alyss
was trembling. “I never thought I’d see it,” she said. “My grandfather died wishing he could cross the sea, and now I’ve done it.”

“Do you think we’ll find what we’re looking for?” Bran asked.

“We must hope,” Brendan said. “Are you up for an adventure, Bran?”

“Always,” Bran said resolutely.

As they neared the shore, he turned and called out to Yvette. “I’ll go first, taking three of my people with me. I think the rest of you should stay in the boat while we investigate.”

“If you think that’s best,” Yvette said.

That surprised him. She had been so focused on getting across the sea that she had bribed him with the boat, and now she was satisfied with remaining behind. It made little sense.

“Bran,
Pól
,
Alyss
… with me. Take as few supplies as we can manage. We want to travel light.” The trio ran to prepare. “Be ready for anything,” Brendan murmured to the two soldiers left behind. “Stay constantly alert.” He hesitated. “Trust no one.”

The pair nodded faithfully.

When the others returned, Brendan said, “We have no idea what’s out there, but it was enough to drive the
daoine
sídhe
away, and they’re
our
giants. We all need to be careful.”

Yvette called for the ship to be anchored at an excessively long distance from the island.

“Here?” Brendan said in surprise.

“Oh, maybe I just want to see you work your way across,” Yvette said. “We don’t want to get too close to the island. It could be rocky under the surface of the water. The last thing we need is for the ship to sink.”

Brendan and his soldiers hefted their supplies onto their backs and waited while the ship was anchored. Yvette stood by Brendan’s side as her crew released a small rowing boat that had been strapped to the side of the ship.

“
That’s
what came to mind when you told me you had a boat,” Brendan said to fill the silence between them.

She rested her hand on her hip. “That little thing. I don’t do things by halves.”

He rolled his shoulders as a cold feeling crept up his spine. Everything sounded ominous to him of late. He had to blame the lack of dry land. He touched the sword of victory before leading his soldiers onto the rowing boat.

He and
Pól
took the oars. The group moved quickly through meek waves.

“It looks beautiful here,”
Alyss
said, dipping her hand into the lapping waves. “Nothing like the sea at home.”

Brendan didn’t disagree. The sea was aquamarine, the beach full of soft golden sand. Beyond that was a vibrant forest in every hue of green. At least they would have cover.

They came to shore and left the rowing boat wedged in the sand.

“It’s so good to be on land again,” Brendan said with a grin as he stretched his long arms. “And now for our next adventure, we should—”

A strange sound echoed right before a massive boulder hit the sand next to their rowing boat.

Stunned, the soldiers gaped at the oversized projectile until Brendan gathered his wits and commanded them all to run for the trees. A second boulder landed, this time in the water.

“The ship!” Bran cried. “They’re trying to destroy the ship!”

“If they succeed, we’ll never get home.” Brendan knew how vital it was that they returned. “Go!” he shouted at the ship. All four of them waved and gestured for the ship to move. The anchor had already been raised, Brendan realised. The ship moved out of reach of the third boulder just in time. A howl of rage sounded in the distance.

Another boulder crashed against the rowing boat, effectively destroying it. Brendan looked away, unable to watch.

The group hid amongst the trees in silence lest there was an army hidden in the midst of the forest. No more boulders were flung, but the ship was already out of sight.

“There goes our way home,”
Alyss
said mournfully.

“Good thing the ship was so far from shore,”
Pól
said.

“Good thing?”
Alyss’s
voice trembled. “We’re
stuck
here.”

“We’re not stuck,” Brendan said firmly. “They won’t abandon us.” He hoped. “There won’t be anything to go home to if we don’t succeed. We must find the First Tree, and we must bring it home, even if we have to build our own bloody boat, or everyone we know and care about is lost.” He gazed out at the boulders. “And I don’t want to stay here a moment longer than we have to.”

“We not even sure what the First Tree looks like,” she protested.

“We’ve all seen the images from Yvette’s book,” Brendan said. “We cannot fail now, no matter what kind of monsters we encounter here.”

The ground shuddered. Brendan felt it under his feet.

“What was that?” Bran hissed.

The vibrations increased, accompanied by other unrecognisable sounds.

“Whatever it is, it’s coming this way,”
Alyss
said.

“It almost sounds like trees being uprooted,”
Pól
said, barely containing his horror.

“This way,” came an unfamiliar voice from above. “Quickly, before you’re seen.”

Brendan looked up. It took him a second, but he found a figure hunched on a branch, every inch of their skin painted with mud. The stranger leapt in front of them, tall, but feminine. She beckoned them to follow, then took off in a sprint.

Brendan looked at his doubtful soldiers, then shrugged his acceptance.

“Come on,” he commanded. “I’d rather take my chances with this one over whatever’s behind us.”

They raced after the camouflaged woman, struggling to keep up. A number of times, Brendan lost sight of the person leading them—his gaze skating over the green and brown amongst the foliage—but she would reappear if they fell behind.