WingsOfDesire-AriannaSkye (27 page)

~*~*~

Cerne had waited a good hour, but Rhiannon hadn’t returned to her room. Nor had she opened her thoughts. He couldn’t blame her. He would do the same thing if he were in her position.
Blasted Viviane!
Why did she have to get twisted in Korrigan’s dark agenda? He had no choice but to notify the High Councilman. However, Evenspring seemed more interested in removing the wrinkles from his robe than monitoring the head courtesan.

Now he sat in his chaise, nursing a glass of elderberry wine. “Can you hear me,
mo cridhe?
” he asked, already knowing the answer. He sighed. Perhaps she’d honored his wishes. After all, he had told her to keep their connection closed. Then again, she wasn’t one who liked to take orders—especially his.

The lack of connection could only mean one thing—she wanted nothing to do with him.

He was having an imp of a time falling asleep. He could blame her for that too. Their lovemaking had instilled enough energy to keep him alert for a good day or two. But it was necessary if they planned on defeating Korrigan.

He’d never had this much energy after coupling.
Is sex with Rhiannon always going to be so
intense?
Not that he’d get the chance to find out again. She made it clear what her plans were

once they defeated Korrigan.

“Well, it’s obvious I’m not going to get any sleep tonight.” He might as well make the most of it and prepare for battle. He looked down at his glass of wine and shook his head. He set the glass down and stood. Even the wine couldn’t weaken his energy levels tonight.

Cerne strode to his closet and whipped it open to grab his shield and sword. Never did he think he would have to use them, nor did he ever imagine having to wear the silver mail that would protect his body.

The training field was as good as any place to exert some of his pent-up energy. He wondered if his princess was having as hard of a time as he was.
My princess?
Was she truly his?

Not after tonight—probably not ever again.

Cerne refused to further dwell on his inept relationship skills. He slung the heavy armor over his head and without another thought to sidetrack him, made his way to the training field.

“Can’t sleep either, eh?”

Cerne spun around, a cloud of dust flying around his feet.

Belenus lounged against the wooden fence, a smirk the size of an ogre stretched across his face. “So you and Princess Rhiannon have succumbed to your desires at last?” Cerne blew out a deep breath of air. “I guess so.” Belenus raised a curious brow. “You guess? What happened, now? Did your cock finally go flaccid?”

“Don’t make me use this on you.” Cerne raised his sword. Not that he actually would use it, but it would prove his point.

Belenus stepped back, putting his arms out. “No need to get defensive, my friend.” He paused and scratched his chin. “Care to talk about it?” To be honest, he had no choice but to talk about it. Viviane could be in trouble. He knew Viviane to be passionate, but he also knew she had some common sense. Something wasn’t right.

“Have you seen Viviane lately?”

“Don’t tell me you found more pleasure with a worn-out palace concubine.” Belenus covered his face and shook his head in disbelieving bemusement.

“Gods, no!” Cerne wrinkled his nose. “Being with Rhiannon was the best experience in my life.”

“Then what troubles you?”

Cerne sighed. “She plans on returning to Earth once Korrigan is defeated.”

“That’s understandable,” Belenus replied, trying to make light of the situation. “After all, her belongings are still there.”

Cerne rolled his eyes skyward. “She plans on staying on Earth, Bel.”

“What makes you think that?” Was this man truly this daft?

“Don’t act so ignorant, my friend. She asked me to come back with her.”

“How odd.” Belenus arched a quizzical brow. “Maeve just told me how Rhiannon loves Fey and how much better it is than Earth.”

“Perhaps she said that to Maeve to appease her and the other members of the elder council.” Belenus shrugged. “Mayhap you misunderstood her.”

“Mayhap I didn’t,” Cerne replied tersely. “She said, ‘When this is all done and over, I need to go back to Earth.’ There’s nothing left to misunderstand in that, I’m afraid.”

“Women say things they don’t mean all the time.” Belenus gave Cerne his attempt at a reassuring back-pat. “I realize this is all new to you, but I think you’re overreacting.”

“I’ve been with women before, Bel.”

Belenus’s eyes flickered with mirth. “But have you ever loved any of them?”
Not this again.
“For the last time, I’m not in love.”

“Are all of us men this hard-headed?” Belenus scratched his chin. “Being in love doesn’t make you less of a man.” Belenus puffed up his chest and flexed his arms. “See?”

“I never said you were any less of a man.” To be honest, Belenus was more a man than most to wear his heart on his sleeve the way he did.

“Good, now that we have that clarified, do you care to practice?” Cerne shrugged. “I don’t know. Will your male pride hurt to be bested by a wingless one?” Belenus laughed, flapping his wings. “There’s no need to be overconfident.” A wide grin spread across his face. “I’ll go easy on you this time. I’ll keep the magic to a minimum.” Cerne frowned. “Blast, and here I was looking forward to extinguishing this magic you brag about.”

“Very funny, Cerne. I—”

A large crash from the stables and the sounds of horses rearing and neighing caught his attention. Danger hung around them like the dank fog across the swamps of Ogre. “What the deities?”

Belenus’s eyes widened and he spun toward the stables. “Grab my cloak!” Without hesitation, Cerne fisted the corners of Belenus’s cloak. Belenus launched into the air and flew toward the stables. Despite the additional weight, Belenus managed to maneuver through the building as if he were as weightless as a feather.

“Do you see anything?” Cerne asked, as they touched the ground.

Belenus sucked in a deep breath of air. “No, blast it.” Cerne nodded. “We should check the horses to make sure nothing is amiss.” Belenus nodded. “Good idea.” He snapped his fingers, bathing the stables in warm amber light.

The horses had long since calmed, save for Rhiannon’s. Her horse stood out like a sore thumb, big, white, and perfect. She would look stunning riding the magnificent beast.

Cerne made his way to the powerful animal. Perhaps the person or thing that caused the disturbance was still present. He peered into the stall, his eyes alert with caution.

The beautiful white beast stood snorting on its hind legs, his shiny coat marred by crude, black dye. The words, ominous and foreboding, stretched across his once pristine flank.

Your princess will die and chaos will rule.

“Good Gods!” Belenus exclaimed, coming up behind Cerne.

“At least none of the animals were harmed, save for maybe Bran’s pride here.” Cerne threw open the door to the stall. He stepped inside and caught his breath.

Lying in a crumpled heap on the ground was Viviane.

“You’ve served me well, Viviane.” Korrigan smirked. “Very well.” Korrigan stretched her arms. With the scent of deceit on Viviane, her new minion could roam the palace freely without suspicion. Everything was falling into place, as it should. She threw back her head and cackled, reaching for her whip. She couldn’t wait to use it on that pathetic excuse of a princess.

She had Princess Rhiannon right where she wanted. Soon the Mother Amulet would be hers and Titania and Rhiannon would both be dead. She thought about killing Oberon and the princess’s pet but decided not to. After all, both men were fine specimens and would be excellent sport for her and her guards. She would kill anyone else who refused her. She steepled her fingers. This was going to be easier than she thought.

The cool wind blew in her face as the flap of her tent flew open. Korrigan looked up, a scowl replacing her grin. “What do you want?”

Her sister gazed at her with flickering onyx eyes, standing with her damned pride. Even with a long gashing scar on her cheek, Aine’s jaw was firm and her lips unwavering. “I’ve come to ask your permission to fight.”

“Just because you finally grew your wings, doesn’t mean you’re strong enough to fight.” Korrigan slinked her whip between her fingers.

“Fergus has been training me. I’ve learned how to make the earth quake.” Korrigan rolled her eyes, remembering the pitiful quiver she’d felt under her feet from Aine’s staff. “Indeed, is that so?”

Aine nodded, her chin still stony as ever.

Korrigan laughed from deep in her throat. “Prove it to me, dear sister. If you can knock me from my throne, you may fight in tomorrow’s battle.” She had no need to worry. There’s no way in the underworld her sister’s tiny earth rumble would upend her. “Is that fair enough?”

“Yes, sister.” Aine gripped the wooden staff so tight her knuckles turned white.

Ahh, I have nothing to worry about if she continues to grip her staff so tightly.
“Don’t just stand there, show me your magic.”

Aine’s eyes flickered as she pulled up the staff. In one fluid, determined motion, she

slammed it down. As expected, a tiny quake rolled through the tent. Her eyes sparked frustration and then disappointment. Well, what should she expect?

“Is that the best you can do?” Korrigan threw back her head, laugh after laugh wracking her body. “From the confidence you showed me, I expected a crack in the earth below my feet.

You’ve wasted my time.”

Aine bit her lip. Ha, the nervousness returns. “I was nervous, Queen Sister. Let me try again.”

Korrigan shook her head. She didn’t have time for this pathetic display. “You had your chance.” Korrigan grabbed her whip and slapped it against her hand. “Don’t make me mar the other side of your ugly face.”

Aine’s chest puffed out like a proud peacock. “I couldn’t care less about my face, sister dear.”

“Why is that, I wonder?” Korrigan asked. “When it was the only thing good you had going for you.” Was she deliberately testing her?

“When you sent Sionnach to the Outer Realm, I had nothing left to live for.”

“Wrong answer, Aine,” Korrigan snarled, showing her sister her teeth. She drew back her whip. With a wide smirk, she flicked her wrist and sent the strap singing through the air.

Her ears perked, waiting to hear the sound of leather meeting skin. Instead, Aine raised her hand and caught the whip. With a forceful tug, she pulled the whip down and ripped it from Korrigan’s hand. Surprise filled her sister’s eyes and the whip fell to the ground with a soft clunk. Both Aine and Korrigan stared in stark silence at the lifeless whip.

Aine found her voice at last. “I realize I did not
knock
you from your throne, dear sister, but I beg you reconsider your decision.”

Korrigan narrowed her eyes and her jaw twitched. After this display, she knew her sister held potential. “Fine,” she huffed. “You can fight.” Aine smiled and bowed. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You won’t be disappointed, I promise.” Korrigan shrugged and reached to grab her whip. “Somehow I find that hard to believe, but stranger things have happened.” She waved her hand toward the entrance. “Now be gone, before I change my mind.”

Aine nodded and flitted from the tent with her too-perfect pair of wings. Korrigan gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. Perhaps her whelp of a sister would meet the blade of a White

Faerie’s sword. Korrigan could only hope.

~*~*~

Rhiannon would’ve killed for a book. Not the old stuffy tomes she found in the library, but a good Nora Roberts novel to keep her occupied. Insomnia was the pits. After about an hour of twisting, turning, and Gods know whatever acrobatics, she still couldn’t sleep. When they said sex gave you energy, they weren’t lying. She felt like the energizer bunny on speed—ready to keep going and going at one thousand miles per hour.

“Blast it all!” She fisted her pillow and threw it across the room. The pillow arced in the air and bounced off the alabaster wall to the marble floor below. Perhaps pacing would help alleviate some of this energy. If she could, she wouldn’t have minded running a marathon either.

Alas, she hadn’t seen too many marathons here in Fey. Perhaps she would’ve been luckier if she’d been transported to ancient Greece instead of Fey.

She pulled herself out of bed and threw on her lounging robe. Scraping her fingers through her unruly mass of curls, she sighed. Cerne hadn’t come back to her room. He was probably busy energizing with Viviane.

She was about to stretch her arms when a knock sounded on the door. Her breath caught in her throat and her pulse quickened. What if it was Cerne? Should she ignore it and pretend she was sleeping? Then again, it could be Maeve come to tell her something urgent about her mother. Damned if she did, damned if she didn’t.

With a soft sigh, she made her way to the door. “Coming!” She gripped the golden handle to her door and yanked it open. “What the—”

Cerne pushed into the room. “We don’t have time to argue. Just help us.” Belenus floated in behind Cerne, with a crumpled mass of faerie wings and broken limbs on his back. It wasn’t until Cerne hoisted the lifeless faerie off his back that she recognized Viviane.

Apparently being a prostitute in Fey was just as hard as being one on Earth.

“Can you heal her?” Cerne asked, his eyes full of concern—concern for Viviane. She wanted to shrink inside.

Belenus stepped forward. “She may be witness to a crime, Your Highness.” He offered her a comforting gaze.

Rhiannon caught her lower lip in her teeth, looking at Viviane’s broken and beaten body. No one deserved that sort of treatment, no matter who or what they were. Plus this was one of her people. She had a duty to protect her. Seeing the concern in Cerne’s eyes for Viviane tore at her heart. If only he’d had that sort of concern for her.

“Set her on my bed.” If the worn-out courtesan made Cerne happy, she wouldn’t deprive him of his enjoyment. Besides, if she were a doctor she wouldn’t be able to discriminate either.

She looked up at Cerne, trying to mask the pain. “I’m doing this for you,
mo cridhe
.” Cerne arched a brow quizzically and proceeded to the bed. Straightening Viviane’s bent wing, he sucked in a breath. “The damage is worse than I suspected.” Blood dripped from Viviane’s nose and a large gash lashed down her chest, as if a whip had sliced her skin. Her brown hair clung in mats, caked with blood. Bruises lined her neck and both eyes matched with a sickening purplish-blue color. The metallic smell of blood lingered in the air. Rhiannon’s stomach roiled.