WingsOfDesire-AriannaSkye (30 page)

“Some of us more than they realize,” Maeve said. She patted Cerne on the back.

“We’ll rescue her, milord. I’ll have General Windstorm choose his finest warriors.” Cerne shook his head. “Don’t bother, Maeve.”

Maeve’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? Do you not want your princess safe in your arms?”

“Oh, I want her safe more than anything,” Cerne said. “But I’ll be the one doing the rescuing.”

Maeve blinked. “It isn’t safe, Cerne. We can’t have our king-to-be trying to infiltrate a heavily guarded fortress. We don’t even know if that’s where Korrigan’s keeping her.”

“I don’t give a fig about my safety. I only care about Rhiannon. I would risk anything to keep her safe.”

Belenus stepped forward, resting his hand on Cerne’s shoulder. “I realize you lov—umm—

care for Rhiannon, but there are certain protocols to consider.”

“Protocols be damned,” Cerne said. “Did you both stop and think that maybe Korrigan is expecting an army to rescue the princess?”

Maeve narrowed her eyes as she contemplated his words. “Interesting.”

“I say, give her an army, but while she’s busy with our army, we make
our
attack when she least expects it.”

“What’s not to say she won’t bring Rhiannon with her?” Belenus chimed in.

“And kill the only thing that can give her the power to control all of Fey?” Cerne chuckled.

“Korrigan is smarter than that.”

Belenus nodded. “I see your logic, my friend. But I cannot allow you to do this.” He looked to Maeve who gave him a brief nod. “Without our help.”

“So, Lord Silverwing,” Maeve replied with a fluff of her wings, “If you plan on storming the Dark Castle, you’ll have to bring Bel and me with you.” Well, he couldn’t argue against that. After all, three faeries were better than one wingless one. He’d be a fool to refuse their assistance. “Then it’s settled. We ride for Dark Castle immediately.”

~*~*~

Rhiannon sighed. Her arms and feet ached and her stomach growled. How could she be hungry in such dire circumstances? The dark, dank air swirled around, suffocating her. For some reason, despite several other abortive attempts, she again pulled her wrists in an attempt to free herself. The only result was the loud clang of unrelenting metal.

“Hello? Has anyone here heard of food?” she shouted.

“I have.”

The woman who spoke stepped forward. She wore a long dark gray gossamer gown that accentuated the sinister wings at her back. Her long curly dark hair hung in waves about her head and, despite the ragged scar that traveled down her cheek, her obsidian eyes sparkled. There was warmth in those eyes, a trait Korrigan had been lacking.

Well, thank the Gods for small miracles. “Wonderful,” Rhiannon replied. She narrowed her eyes at the woman. “So—umm—are you going to feed me?”

“I was only sent to check on you.” The woman, taking cautious steps into Rhiannon’s cell, stuck her hand into the folds of her skirt and pulled out a small loaf of bread. “It’s all I could find, Your Highness.”

“Thank you...umm...”

The woman ripped a piece of bread from the loaf and pushed it into Rhiannon’s mouth. “My name isn’t important.”

Rhiannon bit into the bread like a piranha latching onto a swimmer’s toe. Sure, it was all carbs, but she was too hungry to care. She gulped down the bread and swallowed. “Got anything to drink hidden up your skirts, oh, nameless one?” The woman shook her head. “I’ll try and conjure up some water.”

“I tried myself, but nothing happened.” Rhiannon sighed.

The Dark Faerie nodded. “The shackles are made with iron. It renders your magic useless.

Even the strongest of Fey are powerless.”

Super! Otherworld kryptonite. Aww, darn. Too bad she’d left her Wonder-Woman underoos back on Earth. Not that being dressed like a superhero would help Rhiannon escape anyway.

“Well, that sucks for me, I guess.”

The woman shrugged then closed her eyes. Whispering, she held her hand out, and in a flash a pitcher of water materialized in her hand. She poured the water into Rhiannon’s mouth. “Here.

Drink quickly. Before my sister returns,” she gasped, covering her mouth.

Sister? Don’t tell me this generous woman was the wicked Faerie of the South’s sister!

“You’re
her
sister?”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” the woman begged.

How unfortunate for her, to have such a monster for a sibling? “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Rhiannon said.

“Thank you, Your Highness. And it’s Aine.” The woman smiled.

“It’s what?”

“My name. It’s Aine.” She grabbed her skirts and offered a polite curtsey.

The scraping of boots across the ground alerted Aine. Her eyes widened. “I must go.” Rhiannon nodded. “Thank you Aine...for giving me something to eat, even if it was just bread. My stomach thanks you too.”

“It was nothing. I know your people would do the same if I was in your position.” Aine put

her finger to her lips. “Shh,” she said, fluttering her silky black wings. She bowed one last time and floated into the mists.

How strange Aine was, so strikingly different from her sister. It was as if she had a heart, unlike her sister’s whose had long since iced over. Then again, it was hard discerning whether Korrigan ever had a heart to begin with.

The loud footfalls that resounded through the hall were not those of Korrigan’s. They seemed larger, more lumbering.
Wonder what the Fetish Queen has planned for me now?

Whatever it was, Rhiannon would take it like the best of them. It was the only way.

“Good day, Princess Rhiannon.” The deep, gravelly voice echoed through the dank chamber. The dim glow of the sconces cast giant shadows against the walls from which they hung. Whoever this was, he was one large man.

He stepped forward. Make that one large monster. If this was a scare tactic, it was
almost
working. He stood about seven feet tall, with large, bulky, brownish-gray bulging muscles. The puke-green tunic he wore strained against his girth. His straggly green hair hung in matted clumps around his face. She recognized him right away—the ogre from Windstorm’s messenger orb. Gorgon? Was that his name? He loomed over her, his breath permeating the air like a thousand rotting corpses. Not that she knew what a rotting corpse smelled like, but she was sure his breath came damn close. The acrid stench of ogre body odor wafted through the air, stinging her nose.

Rhiannon’s nostrils flared, the nauseating aromas clogging her senses. Why couldn’t she have been transported into a cartoon instead? She would’ve been able to deal with Shrek better than this offending ogre. He grunted, his dark beady eyes set on her.

After what seemed enough time, Rhiannon decided to break the ice. “I’d offer you a tic-tac, but I seem to have left my pack back on Earth.”

His blank stare penetrated her. “Korrigan demands you join us for dinner.” His mangled, piggish nose wrinkled. “I’d rather dine with an orc than with a vile White Faerie.” Rhiannon stifled a chuckle.
Vile?
Had this thing looked in the mirror recently? “Trust me, the feeling is mutual. I could smell you a mile away.” Shrek’s evil cousin snorted. “The Queen was right. You are an impudent little bitch.” He smirked, giving her a view of a dentist’s nightmare. Brown and green ooze dripped from one of his rotted teeth. “I’m going to like breaking your spirit.”

“Better than breaking wind?” As gross as this monster smelled and looked, he was probably the type who would sit back, drink swill, and hold farting contests for entertainment.

“Your prattle makes no sense to me, wench.” He spat a wad of muddy saliva at Rhiannon’s feet. Thank goodness he’d been polite enough not to aim at her face.

“Ah, so your brains aren’t as big as your bodies?” The giant narrowed his eyes, snarled and wrapped his humungous hands around her neck. “I could snap your neck without a second thought.”

“Do it,” she tested.

His rough, calloused hands squeezed her neck, his nostrils flaring. “And risk the wrath of Queen Korrigan? I do not think so.” His hands loosened their grip as he traced a bulbous finger along her neck and down across her chest, lingering there for far too long.

Rhiannon shuddered in revulsion. “Please forgive me if I suddenly heave up what little remains in my stomach.”

“Aren’t you a humorous one?” the ogre replied dryly. “I’m going to enjoy fucking that cockiness out of you.”

Did he just say what she thought he said?

“I’m sorry, but that’s never going to happen,” Rhiannon said, raising her chin. “Since you’re going to die when the White Faerie army comes to my rescue.”

“So you think, Princess.” He leaned in and slithered his putrid green tongue against her earlobe. “I believe Korrigan will be victorious.” He flashed a rotted-tooth grin. “And, as a gift for our service, she’s offered your delights to me and Gwawl.” He groped a breast. Rhiannon’s stomach roiled as she tried moving from him, but the chains kept her firmly in place.

Wow! Even their names are atrocious. “Gwawl? Sounds like something a cat would say when it has a hairball attack.” She repeated the name with sound effects.

“Oh, I do admire your spirit,” he whispered, pressing his ogre-sized erection against her.

“Gwawl and I’ll have some very good sport.”

Lucky for her, Korrigan wasn’t too bright and left Rhiannon just enough slack on the chains to her legs. She aimed her knee upwards and connected with his groin. She prayed ogre males were just as sensitive as human men when kicked in their genitals.

The ogre doubled over and grabbed his injured package. He winced and fell to his knees, gasping for breath.
Bonus!
These ogres were even more sensitive. “There’s more where that

came from, asshole.”

Mr. McStinky snarled, snot dripping from his pug nose. “Not only do you dare injure my pride, you insult my manhood as well?” He licked a drop of green slime as it dripped to his over-swollen lips.

Rhiannon shuddered at the sight. And here, Cerne had told her, trolls were the disgusting ones. Was it even possible to get worse than this frightening monstrosity? She hoped not, for the sake of her already tainted senses.

“I should kill you for that,” he growled from the ground. He sucked in a breath. “But Korrigan wants you alive.”

“Lucky me,” Rhiannon muttered, pulling at the chains that bound her wrists. “I’ll make sure to give you my thanks when I get out of here.”

The ogre narrowed his eyes as he righted himself. “You’re dafter than I thought,” he said as he threw back his mangled head and laughed, the bright green clumps of hair smacking his face.

Now that she thought about it, she wondered if that was even its natural color. Rhiannon scrunched her nose. For her stomach’s sake, she’d resist further thought on the matter.

“Look who’s calling who daft? At least I know the benefit of personal hygiene. Have you smelled yourself lately?” Rhiannon wrinkled her nose.

He raised his hand to slap her. Rhiannon clenched her fists and stiffened, awaiting his blow.

He drew back his arm, but a mysterious force kept it suspended in midair. “What the orcs?”

“Now, now, Llwyd,” Korrigan said, stepping from the shadows. “That wasn’t the sport we agreed to.”

Lowering his arm, Llwyd snarled. “Very well.” He traced a bulging finger down Rhiannon’s face. “We’ll continue this later, bitch.” He reached out and grabbed Rhiannon’s breast, twisting it in his swollen hand.

Rhiannon bit back her cry of pain. She’d not give this vile beast that satisfaction. “I hope it doesn’t offend you that I don’t look forward to it.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Releasing her, he let out a throaty chuckle. “She’s all yours, Korrigan.” He turned and stalked away.

Shaking her head, Korrigan tsked. “Very unwise, Princess.” Her black eyes sparked.

“Almost as unwise as my dear sister.” She spun around. “Come out, Aine. I know you’re here.

No need to hide.”

“She came for a peek at the sideshow but left when lewd or Llwyd, whatever his name is, arrived,” Rhiannon replied. Aine seemed genuine and good and in need of protection.

Korrigan rolled her eyes. “I know about the bread. I know everything that goes on in this castle.” She clapped her hands, filling the room with bright light. Aine stood in the corner, her dark wings fluttering. “Ah, there you are, Aine. Step forward, my dear sister.” Aine lifted her chin and approached her sister, her dark curls swooshing with each step. She stood with stoic silence in front of her sister, her chin raised high. Rhiannon blinked. Had she not known, she would’ve thought Aine the queen.

“She was hungry,” Aine said. “It was only one piece of bread.” She stood proud, her jaw set.

Korrigan tapped her foot, grabbing the whip hanging at her side. She slid the lash through her hand in that obscene way she’d done earlier. “I’m hungry too, but I don’t see you fetching me anything.”

Aine kept her eyes steady. “You’ve plenty of food at your disposal.” Rhiannon sucked in a breath. Aine had
cajones.
But couldn’t she see what a psychopath her sister was? “She didn’t feed me. She tempted me with it.”

“I’m not stupid, Princess. She stuffed the morsel into your mouth.” Korrigan raised her whip, the lash ready to sing though the air. Rhiannon wished she could grab it and give her a taste of her own medicine.

Korrigan let the whip crack, and Rhiannon winced at the sound whizzing through the air. A muffled crack caught Rhiannon’s attention as she turned to see Aine holding the whip in her hand.

In a blink, and before Rhiannon could warn Aine, Korrigan brought out yet another whip.

With a jerk, it sailed through the air and struck Aine’s other cheek. A bright red gash stained her cheek and one solitary tear dropped from her eyelid.

“I’m sorry I failed you as a sister, Korrigan.” With that, Aine spun around and winged into the mists.

Mouth wide open in shock, Rhiannon shook her head. She hadn’t really realized the severity of the situation until now. If Korrigan could draw her own sister’s blood, what would she do to her, Rhiannon?

Korrigan turned her head, a sinister grin spreading across her face. “Silence befits you, Princess. Then again, I can’t wait to hear your screams as Gwawl and Llwyd take their reward.”