The Seven Year King (The Faerie Ring #3) (18 page)

A look of disgust crossed the leader’s face. “The Redcaps
had
the Cup of Plenty, but they lost it. Everyone who lives in the Wychwood knows that.” There was a question threaded within his statement.

“Lost it?” Tiki echoed.

“The one who was guarding it, got drunk and left it out. The cup was stolen.”

“The mortals took it,” another of the goblins added.

“The Redcaps were so angry they banished the one who was responsible,” a third one said. “Came through here a few years ago, looking to join us but we said no.”

“The Redcaps don’t even have the cup?” Tiki said faintly. They’d risked their lives for nothing?

“Any idea where the Redcap who lost the Cup went?” Rieker asked.

The leader shrugged, holding out his clawed hands. “Didn’t know then, don’t know now. Could be anywhere. Probably dead.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

D
ain’s arms ached from being suspended above his head and rivers of fire burned across his back from the beating Bearach had meted out. He struggled to stand upright, his head oddly unbalanced from the weight of the mask. The constant exposure to the iron shackles made him queasy and for a moment, he thought he would be sick.

The gloomy light that cast through the one window in the room told him it was day—but which day, Dain couldn’t say. Though his memory of the last meeting with Donegal was blurry, he didn’t think he’d revealed any secrets that might put others at risk. Hopefully, he hadn’t revealed anything at all, but there’d been a time when the entire world was nothing but a red haze of pain and he wasn’t certain if he’d spoken or not.

The circular shafts that bound his wrists were too small to pull his hands through. He gritted his teeth and yanked one wrist hard against the ring, trying to force his flesh and bones through the opening. Pain exploded like a starburst behind his eyes and a groan escaped his clenched lips. Panting, he centered his wrists within the suspended rings so as not to touch the poisonous metal, rocking on his toes to shift with the chains as they swayed from the ceiling.

There had to be a way out of these shackles—he just had to figure it out. Larkin had escaped from the iron clamp in which Donegal had imprisoned her by tearing off her own wings. Dain searched his memory for any details she might have shared about her imprisonment, but he couldn’t remember the faerie speaking of the matter. He had, however, seen the wicked scars that marked her back now and knew her escape had come at a significant price—just as his would. If he could escape.

As the movement of the chains slowed and finally stopped, Dain’s gaze measured the diameter of the ring that bound his right wrist and then the size of his hand. Slowly, he tucked his thumb into his palm to minimize the circumference of his hand. Even then, it was evident there was only one way to get his hand through the ring: he would have to dislocate his thumb joint.

It took many deep breaths before he built up enough courage to try. Behind the mask, sweat beaded and ran down his brow, burning his eyes. He ground his teeth together as he used the pressure of the shackle to force his thumb joint from its natural position. The pain increased with the pressure he applied, until the agony was so great he thought he might faint. The walls around him distorted in a strange way and he was just about to give up—when suddenly his hand was free.

With a gasp of relief, he dropped his throbbing arm to his side. He’d done it. Using his bound hand he pushed his painful joint back into position.

Dain rested for a few minutes before he used his free hand to dislocate the joint on his left hand. Once again, the pain built until it felt like his hand might explode, then the joint moved out of position and he was able to slip his hand free. With a sob of relief he sagged to the floor, his wounded limbs cradled against his chest—exhausted.

HIS DREAMS WERE vivid—as if his imprisonment somehow made that which he longed for even more desirable. He was dressed in an elegant suit of black tails and standing in a lavish ball room at Buckingham Palace, attending a mortal ball at Larkin’s insistence. The music to a waltz swelled around him as he watched Tiki from across the room, the skirt of her emerald gown swirling as she danced with William. Her face glowed with love as she looked up at his brother.

A pang of jealousy as sharp as a dagger pierced Dain’s heart until his entire body ached with pain, making it difficult to breathe. Unfamiliar emotions threatened to crumble the sardonic bravado that he’d built over his lifetime as his shield. How would it feel to hold her in his arms? To have someone look at him like that? To have
her
look at him like that?

His dream changed and Tiki stood before him, her small hand clutched in his, her green eyes dark and mysterious. “Have you kept my secret?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered and in his dream, Dain drew her near. Her lips parted in the most tempting fashion, urging him to kiss her. Happiness like he’d never known flooded his chest and his heart pumped with joy. Just as his lips touched hers, he awakened.

DAIN OPENED HIS eyes and slowly focused on the iron shackles above his head. They swung gently from the ceiling as if moved by the wind. The glittery images of Buckingham Palace slid away as the chill from the stone floor sapped the warmth from his battered body. A sad bitterness filled him as he returned to full consciousness and he held his breath in an unsuccessful attempt to stop the pain that colored every inch of his body. He clenched his eyes closed, but not before a tear escaped, scalding his cheek. For the first time, he wondered if death might be a preferable escape.

Chapter Twenty-Five

T
iki and Rieker rode until they were well out of sight of the hobgoblins before Tiki spoke.

“If mortals took the cup and the Redcap who lost it is dead—how will we ever find the thing?”

“Who told us of the cup in the first place?” Rieker gritted out. “Who told us the Redcaps guarded it?”

“And then told us not to risk our lives trying to get it from them,” Tiki added.

Rieker’s voice was tinged with disgust. “Like normal, it seems the trail leads back to one person.”

They spoke together. “Larkin.”

THEY RODE HARD, barely stopping to rest. Aeveen didn’t seem to tire and her hooves never seemed to touch the ground. It seemed only a few hours, rather than days, before they were climbing Wydrn Tor and entering the Night Garden, outside the Palace of Mirrors.

The guards pulled the doors open, alternately bowing as Tiki passed through and frowning at Rieker. Tiki and Rieker rushed through the grand entry foyer and down the hallway that stretched alongside the Great Hall, headed for Larkin’s study. But their frantic knocks upon her door went unanswered.

Tiki whirled to face Rieker. “Where do you suppose she could be?”

Rieker shrugged. “She could be anywhere, Teek. Remember, it’s Larkin we’re talking about. Let’s check the Great Hall.”

They retraced their steps and passed under the arches that stretched between the towering gold and white columns to enter the Great Hall. Larkin sat on the glittering Dragon Throne as if she were born to rule. She looked regal in a dress of shimmering gold as she gave instructions to several workers.

Tiki told herself she didn’t care—that she didn’t want to rule a world she didn’t understand, but as she watched Larkin dismiss the men with an imperious flick of her hand, she wondered if Larkin was a better choice.

“Back so soon? I’m sure it wasn’t common sense that caused you to return.” She clutched a sheaf of papers to her chest and looked Tiki up and down. “You look like a common forest faerie. What is it you want?”

Rieker stepped close enough so that he towered over the faerie. “Where you aware the Redcaps no longer have the Cup of Plenty?”

Instead of stepping back from his intimidating posture, Larkin stepped closer and ran her hand down the side of his whiskered face. “William, I believe this lifestyle suits you. Half-breed or not, you look more handsome than ever.”

Rieker jerked his head away. “Answer my question.”

“The Redcaps lost the cup years ago. Everyone knows that.”

“Everyone who lives in Faerie. You knew perfectly well that we wouldn’t have known.”

Larkin’s blue-green eyes flashed like a turbulent sea. “And I warned you not to go, didn’t I? I told you it would be dangerous—” her lip curled as she sneered at Tiki—“and pointless. But you two think you know it all.”

Tiki tugged at Rieker’s arm. “Come away. There’s no point in arguing. Let’s go check on Johnny.”

QUIET HUNG IN the zagishire like a mist as Tiki and Rieker tiptoed down the hallway toward Johnny’s room. A shadow flickered in the far corner, catching Tiki’s eye. She peered in that direction but could see nothing out of the ordinary. They reached Johnny’s room and Tiki peeked around the corner to find Fiona asleep in a chair next to the bed.

The other girl woke as they entered and pushed herself upright. Recognizing Tiki, she jumped to her feet, her face alight with hope.

“Did you find it?”

Tiki shook her head, sorrow heavy in her stomach. “I’m sorry, Fi…”

Fiona’s shoulders sagged and Tiki wrapped her arms around the other girl. “We tried,” she whispered in her ear. “We just didn’t have all the information we needed to find it. We won’t give up though. We’ll try again.”

Fiona sniffed and ran her hand under her nose. “I know, Teek.”

“How’s he doing?” Rieker asked. They stood by Johnny’s bed and looked down at his frail body. “Has the fever subsided?”

“He goes between fever and chills.” Fiona smoothed the boy’s sweaty hair away from his forehead. “He never opens his eyes though and sometimes,” her voice caught, “I don’t think he’s breathing.”

THREE HOURS LATER, Tiki dropped into bed with a heavy sigh. She was exhausted but there were so many things on her mind she couldn’t imagine sleeping. She missed Clara and Toots, the comforting silence of Shamus and chatty Mrs. Bosworth. Were they getting on without her? Did they think of her as much as she thought of them?

How were they going to save Johnny without the cup? It was clear the boy wouldn’t last much longer and yet, Tiki didn’t know where to turn to help him. Who else would have knowledge of the Cup of Plenty that might help them find the vessel?

And finally, Dain was never far from her mind. The blurry similarity in his and Rieker’s features kept him present at all times, almost as if part of him was with them. She was afraid to think of what Donegal might be doing to him, yet, she didn’t know how to help him, either.

Tiki rubbed her fingers over the bruised skin of her throat and thought of the bravery of the hobgoblins in attacking the Redcaps to save them. Her lips creased in a small smile. It wasn’t all bad here in the Otherworld.

LARKIN HAUNTED TIKI’S dreams. The faerie whispered and laughed, sneered and snubbed her. She chased her when Tiki dreamed she and Rieker were racing through the Wychwood on Aeveen. Larkin snapped at her with teeth that looked like the oversized fangs of the Redcaps, causing Tiki to scream in her dreams until her throat ached. All the while, the faerie talked:
‘I told you not to go. You two think you know everything. They banished the one who was responsible.
There are matters that require your attention. They won’t give it up—not even to the Queen of the Seelie Court.’