The Seven Year King (The Faerie Ring #3) (7 page)

“How’s that?” Arthur asked. His shoulders sagged as if bearing a heavy load.

“Have you pulled your nose out of your books long enough to look outside? It was gorgeous earlier—like a mid-summer’s eve. Mamie told me that today, May first, is a day of celebration in the Otherworld. A day they call Beltane—apparently the first day of summer.” With a sigh, Leo sank into an overstuffed brown leather chair next to Arthur’s desk. “And appropriately, this is the first truly nice night we’ve had in months and months.” He raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps there’s hope the battle in the Otherworld has taken a turn for the better.” A wicked grin twisted one side of his mouth. “Or perhaps your birthday has special meaning—maybe you have a connection to the fey, yourself?”

“Always the jokester, aren’t you, Leo?” Arthur shook his head. “If there is any connection to the fey in this family, I’m afraid it isn’t with me.” He motioned toward his brother. “What’s that in your hand?”

“Oh, this?” Leo lifted the parchment he held. “I’ve remembered a few more things about my attacker and decided to document the details, so the guards have a better idea who to keep a watch for.”

“May I?” Arthur stared down at the page. The charcoal-drawn image was of a dark figure, wearing a black top hat and clothed in a black cape. Clawed hands reached toward the viewer, but that wasn’t the most notable feature in the drawing. It was the attacker’s eyes: they were slitted like a cat’s and glowing red.

“What is it?” Leo asked. “You seem out of sorts.”

“There’s been another attack.”

Leo sat forward, his face slack with shock. “By this creature?”

“There’s no doubt it was the same man. The victim’s heart had been sliced from her chest.”

Leo’s face turned pale, making the scar on his neck that much more prominent. “Where? When? Who did he murder this time?”

“A young girl in Hyde Park. She was about sixteen years old—the same age as Marie Claire.” Arthur heaved a heavy sigh at the mention of the murdered daughter of their good friend, Charles Bagley.

“And the same age as Baby,” Leo said faintly, naming their younger sister, Beatrice.

“Good point. The girl must have been attacked sometime after midnight. Her body was found this morning not far from The Ring by a man out for an early ride. Because of the proximity to Buckingham, Scotland Yard thought it wise to inform us.” He rubbed his forehead. “Just in case.”

Leo sat back in his chair. “He’s back.” He raised frightened eyes toward his brother. “None of us are safe.”

Chapter Ten

T
he clock chimed nine times as Tiki and Rieker entered the townhome. Several lamps were lit in the foyer and down the hallway, awaiting their return, the gas turned low to dim their light. Tiki removed her shoes and clutched them in one hand as she followed Rieker, her stocking feet silent on the wood floors.

What would she tell Fiona when the girl asked about Johnny? Tiki shook her head. How could she have forgotten to check on the welfare of the young boy? Guilt speared her stomach in an uncomfortable way. But so much had happened… It seemed she would have to return to the Otherworld sooner than she anticipated, if only to help Fiona find out how Johnny was faring. Plus, she couldn’t shake the image of that starving faerie. How many others were in need like her?

Rieker paused outside a pair of large, carved walnut doors that led to his study. He fingered a strand of her dark hair, his smoky eyes fixed on hers. “I’m going to sit by the fire for a bit and absorb what we’ve learned today. Would you care to join me?”

Had it only been one day since they’d stared into the depths of the ring searching for answers? Was it only this afternoon that they’d talked with Arthur and been directed to the Coronation Chair at Westminster Abbey? Had it really been just a few hours ago that the Stone of Tara had cried out at her touch and the world of Faerie had accepted her as their Queen of the Seelie Court? A new sense of responsibility weighed on her. Was it up to her to save Dain? To feed the homeless and starving? If she didn’t do it—who would?

Tiki shivered.

“Are you cold?”

She shook her head. “Just tired. And… and maybe a little scared.”

Rieker brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, his eyes dark and serious. “I’ll be here to help you.”

Tiki nodded and forced a smile, a strange sense of foreboding making her chest tight. Were either of them strong enough to face what was coming? “I want to check on the others and then I’ll be down.”

Rieker nodded and reached for the brass door handle. “I’ll stoke the fire and chase the chill from the room. Perhaps now that Larkin has finally got what she wanted, we won’t have an unwelcome visitor in the middle of our conversations.”

Tiki gave a wry smile. “One can only hope.”

Her stocking feet were silent on the stairs as she climbed to the upper drawing room where they liked to gather at night. She rounded the corner and just as she’d hoped, Toots, Clara and Shamus were sitting before the fire. Shamus was whittling on a small figure he held in his hands, Toots was trying to build a tower with building blocks and Clara was turning the pages of a book.

“I thought I might find you lot here,” Tiki said, “lolly-gagging about.” As one, they lifted their heads in surprise.

“Tiki!” Toots and Clara bounded toward her and wrapped their arms around her legs and waist, clutching her tight. A slow smile spread across Shamus’ face, making him look much younger.

“I was wondering when I might see you again,” he said.

Tiki took Toots and Clara by the hands and dipped in a curtsy. “Home again and at your service, m’lord.” Clara immediately copied Tiki’s movement with a curtsy of her own.

“An’ I’m here, too!”

Toots gave a gentlemanly bow. “Don’t forget me.”

Shamus laughed and nodded at them, his carving resting on his knees. “An’ a beautiful sight you all are.” He glanced at the open doorway then looked back at Tiki expectantly. “Not alone, are you?”

“Rieker’s in his study tending to a few business matters.” She gave Shamus a questioning look. “How’s Fi?”

“Hasn’t been out of her room much.” He scratched his head, his brow pulled down in a worried frown. “Haven’t seen her at all tonight.”

“Did you find Johnny? Is he all right?” Toots asked. Death was a common visitor to London, especially if one lived on the streets, and Toots had seen his fair share. He was wise enough to know that Johnny was in dire straits.

“He’s very sick.” Tiki dodged the question. “I don’t know much more than that.”

“What about Dain?” Clara asked in her high little voice. “I haven’t seen him for a long time. Is he sick, too?” She tilted her head, her blond curls swaying with her movement. “I thought he was going to come by and let me pet one of his pretty horses.”

At the mention of Dain, a sense of loss filled Tiki, making it difficult for her to speak. How could she explain what had happened to Dain? That he needed them too, just as desperately as Johnny.

“Dain is…busy right now…” Tiki said, “with work. But you’ll see him again soon, I promise.”

Rieker rounded the corner, his tall frame and broad shoulders filling the doorway. “I see you’ve found each other.”

Shamus pushed himself out of the chair and approached Rieker with his hand out. He was as tall as the young lord, but thin as a willow reed. His straight white-blond hair was a startling contrast to the dark locks that covered Rieker’s head. Their features couldn’t have been more different either: where Rieker’s cheekbones and jaw were cut in sculpted curves, Shamus’ features were long, and thin, much like his body. One wouldn’t forget Rieker’s handsome face, whereas Shamus could blend in with a crowd and disappear.

“Nice to see you again, Lord Richmond.” Shamus dipped his head but there was a hesitant look on his face. “Grateful for your hospitality. Hope that you don’t mind we’re still here.”

Rieker shook Shamus’ hand and held tight until Shamus met his eyes. “Shamus, you are all part of Tiki’s family, which makes you my family. You are welcome to stay as long as you wish.”

Shamus bobbed his head with a relieved smile. “Thank you, sir.” He motioned to the chair he had just vacated. “Would you like to sit?”

“Actually, I’ve got matters to tend to around here, so best get to it. I’ll see you all in a bit.”

Tiki looked at Clara and Toots. “And I’ve come to read you lot a bedtime story and tuck you in at a reasonable time, like good children.” She eyed the two of them with a questioning look.

“How’d you know we stay up late sometimes?” Toots asked, a guilty grin on his face. “You’re not here when we do.”

“Just because I’m not here, doesn’t mean I don’t know things.” She tweaked the ten year-old’s nose. “And best that you don’t forget it either, Thomas.”

IT WAS ONLY minutes before Tiki, Clara and Toots were settled together comfortably on the couch with Clara’s story book spread across Tiki’s lap. Shamus sat in a nearby chair where he’d resumed his whittling, a content smile upon his face.

“Read it, Teek!” Clara cried. “Ol’ Potts gave me this story about lep’reecons a long time ago and I still haven’t heard it!”

“It’s only been a few days,” Tiki said, “and you could’ve asked Mrs. Bosworth.”

“I did, but she can’t read.” Clara pouted. “An’ Toots wouldn’t even try.”

Tiki looked down at Toots, who was leaning against her left arm. “Is that true, Toots?”

“I wanted to wait for you, Teek.” He gave her an innocent look, his orange freckles bright against his pale skin. “It’s better that way. You’re the best storyteller
ever
.”

Tiki snorted. “I don’t know about that, but let’s take a look. Mr. Potts seemed to think that Clara would like this one.” She smoothed her hand over the cover and read the title: “The Field of Boliauns.” She looked down at Clara then over at Toots. “Do you two know what a boliaun is?”

The children shook their heads, their gaze locked on Tiki.

“A boliaun is also known as ragwort. It’s a green plant that grows about knee-high in fields around here and in Ireland.”

“I’ve heard of that—it’s bad for horses,” Toots said with an important air. “Dain told me.”

“Exactly.” Tiki turned the page and began to read, affecting an Irish brogue. “So the story begins on one fine day in harvest—it was indeed Lady-day, that everybody knows to be one of the greatest holidays in the year—and clever Tom Fitzpatrick was taking a ramble. He went along the sunny side of a hedge; when all of a sudden he heard a clacking sort of noise.
Clack-clack-clack, clack.”

Clara watched Tiki with wide eyes. “D’you think it’s lep’reecons?”

“Hush, Clara,” Toots hissed.

“‘Dear me,’ said Tom,” Tiki read on, “‘but isn’t it surprisin’ to hear the stone chatters singin’ so late in the season?’ So Tom stole on, going on the tops of his toes to try to get a sight of what was making the noise. But the noise stopped.”

Toots and Clara watched Tiki with baited breath.

“Tom looked sharply through the bushes, and what should he see in a nook of the hedge but a brown pitcher and by-and-by a little wee teeny tiny bit of an old man, with a little motty of a cocked hat stuck upon the top of his head, and a leather apron hangin’ before him.”

“That’s a lep’reecon,” Clara whispered.

Tiki nodded. “As Tom watched, the little man pulled out a little wooden stool, and stepped up upon it, and dipped a little mug into the pitcher. Then he put the full cup beside the stool, and sat down and began to work at putting a heel-piece on a bit of a brogue just fit for himself.”

“What’s a brogue?” Clara asked.

“A type of shoe.” Tiki continued with the story. “‘Well, by the powers,’ said Tom to himself, ‘I’ve often heard tell of the Leprechauns, and, to tell the truth, I’ve never rightly believed in ‘em—but here’s one of them before me now. If I catch him, he’ll be forced to give me his gold. But they say a body must never take their eyes off ‘em, or they’ll escape.”

“Gold,” Toots said, his eyes glowing.

“Tom stole on a little further, with his eye fixed on the little man just as a cat does with a mouse. When he got up quite close, he said, ‘Bless your work, neighbor.’

The little man raised his head, and said, ‘Thank you kindly.’