The Seven Year King (The Faerie Ring #3) (31 page)

Larkin didn’t look at Tiki when she spoke. “Donegal is already marching toward the Palace of Mirrors, impressing solitary fey into his ranks. He has lit a great fire in the Wychwood—to be used as a funeral pyre for our queen.” Her voice was flat, unemotional. “It is his plan to murder her and claim the Seelie throne for his own.” She shifted her gaze to Tiki. “Toward that end, he’s been investigating our new queen and has recently learned where she’s been hidden for the last seventeen years.”

Tiki stiffened in her chair.

“Is it true you were in London all that time, Majesty?” Lady Beckworth, a plump woman with orange hair and bright blue lips, which matched the blue berries stuck throughout the bird’s nest on her head, practically quivered with curiosity. “Hidden and unaware of your true calling?”

“She was in London—” Larkin answered before Tiki could— “waiting for the right time to return. As I was saying, Donegal has targeted the queen and we believe he has UnSeelie fey positioned outside her London residence at this time. The UnSeelies will try to lure those mortals closest to the queen into Faerie, where they will be tortured until Donegal gets what he wants.”

Tiki sat forward and gripped the arms of her chair.
“What?”

Larkin ignored Tiki’s outburst. “Because the truce is still intact and being guarded, there is only one who can attack directly: the
liche.
We haven’t been able to locate him but we believe Donegal has sent him to London.”

“You should have told me.” Tiki’s chest constricted and she began to cough again, the congestion rattling deep in her lungs.

Larkin feigned innocence. “But you specifically told me to wait,
Majesty.”

“You know that’s not—” Tiki’s breath rattled in her throat as she coughed, fighting to answer.

Rieker leaned close and murmured, “Are you all right? Do you need water?”

Tiki waved him off. She needed to concentrate. She needed to stop Donegal. She needed to protect her family. The safest place was probably Buckingham—if Leo and Arthur would have them. At least it would be harder for the UnSeelie fey to reach them there.

“Now,” Larkin continued, “Here’s what we need to do: we need to make sure….”

The faerie’s voice blurred into an indistinguishable drone as Tiki focused on what she had to do: Stop Donegal, hide her family and find a way to free Dain before Donegal’s Wild Hunt started.

“Is that clear, Majesty?” Larkin’s sharp tone cut through Tiki’s musings.

Tiki jerked her head toward Larkin. “What?”

“You must be at the Palace at midnight on Samhain to accept the sacrifice and to transfer the throne to the UnSeelies.”

“Accept the sacrifice?”

“Of course. The Seven Year King is sacrificed to the Seelie Queen.” Larkin’s eyes became slitted. “That’s you.”

Chapter Forty-Two

T
iki shivered uncontrollably as she rushed back to her chambers. Ice gripped her heart from listening to Larkin speak so callously of Dain’s impending death and the threat to her own family. Rieker hurried along beside her, the muscles in his jaw tight with anger. Behind them, Callan trailed at a proper distance, trying to keep Tiki in sight.

“You don’t sound good,” Rieker said with a worried tone.

“I’ll rest when I know my family is safe,” she wheezed. But even as she said the words she knew it wasn’t true. She couldn’t rest until Dain was free, as well. “Given the circumstances, do you think Leo will let them move to the Palace?” Tiki glanced over her shoulder at Callan behind them and grabbed Rieker’s hand to pull him around the corner toward her chambers. “Hurry, I want to go before Callan can follow, but I’ve got to get something. Close the door and wait here.” She rushed into another room and returned with the stake of Ash that Dain had given her clutched in one hand. “Ready?” At Rieker’s nod, she whispered the words and they shimmered from sight.

THE HOUSE WAS unusually quiet when they returned to Grosvenor Square. Instead of the pitter-patter of feet upon the wood floors running to greet them, there was only an unnatural silence. Chill bumps crawled up Tiki’s arms as an eerie sensation of encroaching danger washed over her.

“Something’s not right,” Tiki said in a low voice, as she scanned the hallway. “Where are the children?”

Rieker paused and peered into the kitchen. The fire was cold and the counters were bare—a sure sign Mrs. Bosworth was not in the house.

“Charles!” he called for the butler. “Are you here?”

Silence greeted his call.

Rieker paused to pull an antique sabre from a wall display before he continued down the hallway, his shoulders squared as though he expected an attack at any time. Tiki was several feet behind, searching for any clue to explain the unsettling quiet, when Rieker made a strangled noise and darted into the drawing room.

“What is it?” Tiki cried and dashed after him. She rounded the corner and stopped abruptly, staring at the shambles before her. A fire burned heartily in the grate, but the furniture in the room was upended and strewn about, as though a terrible fight had occurred. Her heart thrummed wildly in her chest. What evil had entered this room to create such disarray? “What happened in here?”

“I don’t know.” Rieker flipped a seat cushion from the sofa out of the way with the tip of his sabre. “But I don’t like it.”

Tiki searched the chaotic contents of the room, trying to sense what had occurred. A patch of white in the corner caught her eye and she hurried over to look closer.

It was a piece of Fiona’s fancywork—an embroidered table runner that she’d been working on for months. Most of the fabric had been torn away, leaving just the shred Tiki now held. She clutched the cloth as a sudden surety hit her: the
liche
had been here.

Tiki started to run from the room, but Rieker moved faster and stuck his arm out to block her from exiting the room.

“Stop,” he whispered. “We need to be cautious—we don’t know where he is right now.”

Tiki nodded as she gripped the Ash stake so tight her knuckles turned white. Would she find little Clara lying on the floor covered in blood with her heart sliced from her chest? She tried to shake the horrific images from her mind but a fear filled her, making it difficult to breathe.

“They got away,” she whispered, “I know they got away—Shamus would have helped them.” But what chance did any of them have against a creature like the
liche
?

They tiptoed down the hall, every footfall sounding like a cannon explosion in the eerie silence. They’d almost reached the entry foyer when a cold, familiar voice spoke.

“I was hoping you might be dear, sweet Fiona, but sadly, I see you’re not.”

In that instant Tiki died a thousand deaths. She jumped back with a strangled cry, pointing the wooden branch, which now looked small and useless, in his direction. The tall, elegant gentlemen they’d met at the Goblin Market stood before them as if he had every right to be inside the townhome.

“I can smell Fiona’s sweet skin everywhere in this house—” he continued in a sultry voice— “but alas, she continues to elude me.”

Tiki covered her mouth in horror as she spied Charles lying at the man’s feet. The butler’s usually-immaculate garments were covered with red and his vest had been neatly sliced down the front, leaving a gaping hole. A puddle of blood circled his dead body.

“What have you done?”
Tiki screamed, brandishing the ash branch at him as if she might run him through.

Rieker pushed her away and pointed the sabre at the man’s chest. “Get back, Teek.
Now.”

The
liche
laughed, a low demonic sound, his red eyes glowing as though flames burned inside his body. He flicked his wrist at the dead butler. “His heart was not tender enough to satisfy my wants—” the
liche
licked his lips— “but I’ve found a better substitute.” He nodded at Tiki. “I’m sure the taste of your sweet heart will make me weak with desire.”

He feinted at Tiki, the movement making his straight black hair swing forward. At the motion of the black strands, an idea exploded in Tiki’s head. She tried to dodge his attack but the
liche
caught the front of her jacket with one clawed hand, ripping it loose and exposing the tender skin of her breasts.

With a scream, Tiki whirled away, holding the ragged remnants of her jacket together. Rieker lunged at the man, nicking his wrist with the tip of the blade and forcing him back.

“You’ve taken your last heart,” Rieker growled.

The
liche
hissed and barred his teeth, growling like a wild beast. Pure evil emanated from his blood red eyes. “You dare to strike me?” His fingernails were suddenly razor-sharp and deadly. “I’ll cut your heart from your chest for that and eat it while you watch, you pathetic mortal.” In a blinding fast move the
liche
whirled the opposite direction and slashed towards Rieker’s neck.

But Rieker was already gone. Faster than Tiki could track he had pulled her away from the madman who threatened them and positioned himself between the two of them. With a backward flick of his wrist he slashed downward with his blade and a ribbon of bright red appeared across the cheekbone of the
liche.

Rieker didn’t take his eyes from his opponent. “Tiki, get out of here.”

The creature put his hand to his cheek in surprise then threw himself at Rieker, all claws and teeth, trying to bite, scratch, cut and impale. “You will
both
die for that,” he growled.

Rieker dodged away from where Tiki stood, leading the creature away from her, but the
liche
caught his arm and spun him into the wall.

“Don’t!” Tiki cried and stabbed at the man’s side with the stake of Ash.

The
liche
whirled on her, but Tiki’s intervention had given Rieker enough time to recover his balance and he slashed the sabre across the man’s arm. Tiki blinked and he suddenly stood three feet away from them.

The
liche
paced to the side, contemplating them. “You’re faster than most mortals,” he said, his sides heaving with exertion. “Different than the others I’ve met in London.” He smiled, his sharp teeth glistening. “Which makes you that much more attractive. Who doesn’t prefer the chase before the kill?” His chuckle was threaded with something dark and evil.

“Except you’re the one who is going to die today,” Rieker said calmly, his sabre held loosely in his hand as he waited for the man to make a move.

“Where’s the bottle Leo gave you?” Tiki whispered. “The one you had at the market?”

“Upstairs, on my dresser.”

“What are you whispering about?” The
liche’s
lips twitched in a smirk. “Plotting your useless attack before I kill you?” He pointed at Tiki. “I will eat her heart first and make you watch…” his nostrils flared, “or perhaps the other way around.” He took a step closer. “I’ve heard the Seelie queen visits this place—tell me what you know.”

Rieker laughed. “You’ll burn in hell before I ever tell you anything.”

Tiki could barely breathe, so profound was the fear engulfing her. Instinct told her that she and Rieker were no match for the
liche
—but somehow she knew if either of them were to survive, she had no choice but to leave Rieker alone with the creature.

“Keep him at bay,” she murmured. “Buy some time—I have an idea.” Using every ounce of will power she could summon, Tiki closed her eyes and visualized Rieker’s bedchamber. The hallway shimmered out of view and she found herself standing in the very room she’d just been imagining. From the lower levels of the townhome, she could hear the
liche’s
shout of outrage as he realized she was not mortal.

Tiki rushed to the dresser and snatched up the little glass jar, the black hairs inside glistening in the lamplight. With the tiny bottle clutched tight in her hand, she closed her eyes and envisioned the drawing room, willing herself to be in that room, next to the fire. In a heartbeat she stood before the fire, the flames crackling and licking the air like hungry tongues. Out in the hallway, the
liche
continued to taunt Rieker.

“Who is your pretty fey friend? She’s much too young to be the Seelie queen, but perhaps she’s the reason for both mortal and fey guards outside?”