Serpentine Tongue (7 page)

You have to escape me first.

A war cry behind them told him well enough Fallon had indeed arrived. Hard not to track a dragon on the tail of an enemy. Siobhan shook her head, narrowing her eyes as she gazed at them. Whatever spell had been cast on her wore off with every passing moment.

Maghnus and Neasan moved in front of their Queen and Captain, attempting not to show the fear Dearg smelled, swords drawn in front of them. His mind worked. How best to achieve his goal, without killing Siobhan in the process?

“See! He hesitates now,” the Queen whispered in the Captain’s ear. “She has enthralled your Knights to keep her safe.”

Dearg growled, and the Captain better covered the Queen with his body. Then Fallon spotted her. He charged, engaging Maghnus with vicious blows.

Siobhan’s eyes cleared little by little. Mischievousness entered her gaze as she completely dropped her weight, unbalancing the Captain, forcing him to choose: her, or his Queen.

He let her go, and she rolled out of the way. Magick simmered, white glitter backed by the wall of dying fire, a portal ripped open, and the Queen threw herself in. Dearg thundered forward, but the fabric of the spell stitched back together.

Maghnus’ knees gave out, his mouth opening like a fish. His hands closed around Fallon’s sword that had run through his chest. Dearg’s roar brought his head up in time to watch the portal close.

He pushed the Knight off the blade with his foot.

Fallon screamed his denial at the Queen’s escape, a twitch in his mind at the chance to fulfill his oath. If it took the rest of eternity, he’d see her head on a pike.

He tossed a sword over Magnus’ head. Siobhan caught the blade between two palms as she finished her roll into a kneeling position.

The Captain bore on her back. She tossed the blade an inch or two into the air, caught the hilt, turning the blade as she plunged the edge under her arm, slicing through Garbhan’s knee.

A grinding pull later, she was on her feet, facing off with the simpering Captain. Fallon pressed his back to hers. Only one of the Captain’s Knights remained, Neasan, the runt of the Sidhe gene pool. He whirled back and forth between Dearg and Fallon.

“Keep that worm alive.” Siobhan nodded at the short Knight.

Neasan squeaked with fear, hightailing away. Fallon sneered, but followed her lead. Dearg and he took slow steps toward the fleeing Knight. He stumbled on an exposed root, falling on his ass at sword point.

* * * *

“I won’t be taken again.”

The Captain laughed, a frail façade to hide his fear. He leaned on his good leg, struggling for balance. She whipped her sword for his side, and he parried weakly. The edge caught his arm.

They circled one another, trading blow for blow.

“Give up, Siobhan. Come back to the castle with me, and I will let your friends go. The Queen spoke in anger. I’d never allow you to become another’s trollop.”

Siobhan laughed hysterically. She might appear a solid woman in control of her emotions, but inside was a current of hatred, and betrayal. In facing this monster of her past, Garbhan was hers alone.

“Merely yours.”

“You are to be my wife. You are mine.”

“I belong to no one!” She screamed.

“Then you are mighty dimwitted,” he said gently. “All nobility are born to be pawns of royalty. You’re a Duchess, a female of worth, wealth and intelligence, to be bought and sold to the highest bidder. Tell me when it hasn’t been so? Your father agreed to your marriage. It is your duty to him and me, to uphold the agreement.”

She jabbed at him, nicking his stomach. He winced. Her fuming anger got the better of her, and she missed his answering swing. The edge cut through her cloak, slicing her bicep.

“My father followed protocol. He feared the unpredictability of the Queen, where I did not. He hated you more than I do, at least in the beginning. He begged me to submit, but even then, he knew I’d fight. I’d find a way, and I have.”

“By running? Is that how you want to live your life?”

“At least it is a life of
my
choosing!”

“The Queen will never let you go. She will tear apart every corner of this world, until you are found.”

His energy waned. His wounds gushed blood, making the hilt of his sword slippery enough that he dropped it. He started in horror, bending down to retrieve his lifeline.

She lowered her hand, sword level with the ground. She thrust upward, straight through his cold, dead heart. He gasped, choked, coughed. Blood and spit sprayed from his mouth. She jumped out of his way as he fell forward, writhing onto his back.
The action pushed the blade a foot in the other direction. The ground damped a blackish red. As she watched, his triple grey iris faded to near white, leaving tiny specs of his pupils in their wake.

She’d killed a man. In all of her years, all of her fights, she’d never taken a life. Her chest hollowed, her body numb, save for the aches in her limbs, she sagged. She only wished her mind would quiet, but she wasn’t the fainting type. Thought after thought, plan of action and consequence flashed. The options from this pivotal moment in her life were few. Turn herself in, or run.

All around her, the charred, broken forest billowed with smoke, highlighted by small, dying flames. The ground littered with battered bodies.

The quivering Neasan cowered under Fallon and Dearg’s attentions. What sort of Knight forfeited himself in a fight? They fought to the death, or not at all. The Queen would be displeased.

But he wanted to live, so badly that he’d shame himself as a Knight. She’d use that in the only power play left to her.

Siobhan pulled her sword from Garbhan’s chest, sneering with distaste. Dragging his weight behind her closed the distance between her, and her men.

“What shall we do with him?” Fallon said blandly. Though inflection didn’t mar the perfection of his outward cruel expression, by now she knew him. Brutality against the men who were once his brothers shattered his heart.

But, they’d agreed this might be necessary to their survival. In the end, that mattered above all else.

She swallowed, and stared at the body of the man she’d once been ordered to marry. Goddess, she hated him. Hated that up until the moment she’d run him through with her sword, he’d thought to own her.

Staring at the little man, she debated his waning strength. Bile rose as she came to a decision. Bloodied blade high in the air, the edge shone in the sunlight. With a heavy thump, she cleaved Garbhan’s head from his body. Even his long hair sheared from the force. She swallowed again as she plucked the thing from the red stained grass.

She walked to the fallen Knight, and tossed the head at Neasan. “You, plebeian, will take this as a token to the Seelie Queen.” She paused. “Alongside an important message. You will remember this word for word; as it’s the only reason I suffer you to live.”

He bowed his head, Fallon’s blade nicking his throat. Blood welled, running down his pale, sickly flesh. “Yes, my lady.”

“Tell the Queen that I live. That Fallon O’Beollain and Dearg O’Dunlaigh are mine, and mine alone. I claim them. Should she send anyone after any of us, I will unleash my full wrath upon her and her alone. If she does not fear this, remind her, I killed the Captain of her guard in a rightful, fair battle. I shall do everything in my power to see that Fallon O’Beollain completes his oath, and ends her pitiful existence.”

To his credit, Fallon stayed immune to the threat. He lifted his sword an inch.

“Y—you have my oath that I will pass on your token and message,” he stuttered.

The coward he was, Neasan scrambled from harm’s way and snatched his Captain’s head. Without a word, he ran from the forest.

A sizzling startled the silence of forest, followed by the crunch of bone. A naked Dearg strolled from the trees. She untied her cloak, handing him the cover. She choked on her emotions as she whirled, and left the scene, into the untouched trees.

The familiar walk took no more than an hour. In front of the cottage that had been her life for
twenty-five cycles of the moon lost the familiarity and safety that made the structure her home. She’d been rash in creating her getaway so close to the Seelie border.

“What do we do now?” Fallon asked softly. He feared for her. She heard that much.

“We cannot stay here anymore,” she replied, concealing the hurt. “We shall venture further into the forest. Into the dark wood.”

“Monsters of the unknown live there,” Dearg said.

She gave him her profile. “Do you fear monsters, my beloved?”

He grinned wickedly, and slung an arm over her shoulder. Fallon leaned into her other side.

“Never. I’m bigger.”

“Then we find a safe place there, and ward it with spells I never dared use here.”

Fallon stiffened. “Dark magick?”

Wind tossed Siobhan’s green and blonde hair across her face. She made no move to push the strands aside. “I will do anything to protect you, just as you would for me. That is what family does for one another.”

The men shared a long look, filling the silence well enough. Most of all, that look held hope, something they all needed right now.

“We will be much closer to the Unseelie,” Fallon reminded.

“Let them come. The only difference between the Seelie and the Unseelie, the night Sidhe will be honest about their hatred before they try to kill you.”

She debated what to take with her. The array of court dresses she’d prized even in her exile? Her trinkets she’d collected over the years? No. None of it. She’d once rewritten her future by half. This time, she’d go all the way.

Fallon rubbed her arm. “Will you miss the cottage?”

Her lips quirked
into a smile that lit her face. “No.” At least, eventually. “I already have everything I need.”

They turned as one, as always, in tune with one another. They melted into the shadows, until the moonlight no longer penetrated the density of the forest. Their journey together had only just begun
.

The End

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Serpentine Tongue

Copyright © 2013 Kayden McLeod

Cover art by Kayden McLeod

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are eighteen or older.

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