Chapter 38
Christophe woke when
a massive aquamarine smashed into the side of his
head.
He’d been woken up in
worse ways. He closed his eyes again.
Then the reality of
what had just happened caught up with his dazed and battered mind,
and he changed his mind. This was the worst, ever.
Fiona had willingly
given herself to the Fae. There was almost nothing he could do
about it. He was tapped out of magic, trapped in the Summer
Lands—and, most likely, the Unseelie Court itself, the center and
source of this Fae prince’s power—and the woman he loved more than
his own life had just surrendered herself to the same monster who
had murdered Christophe’s parents.
The worst situation
of his life, perhaps, but there had to be a way to win. There was
always a way.
Gideon na Feransel
was going to die.
All of that analysis
ran through his mind in the few seconds before he opened his eyes.
He then sat up and retrieved the gem that had woken him so
unpleasantly. He held it up in the air and scanned the area. Rock
walls. Rock floor. Light from some unknown source. A
cave?
“Thank you. I’ve been
looking for this. Telios was just a frame?”
Gideon’s voice
sounded in the chamber, but Christophe couldn’t see him. More
tricks of illusion. “Telios was a tool for me to use, who
unfortunately learned secrets he should not have tried to wield. He
enthralled the shifters in the Tower Guard, stole the sword, and
then killed them and blamed it on the Scarlet Ninja. Our lovely
Fiona will be hanging up that particular outfit from now on, by the
way, unless she wants to play dress-up for me.”
Christophe snarled
and leapt to his feet, still clutching the Siren. “Where is she? If
you’ve hurt her, you bastard, I’ll cut your dick off and feed it to
you.”
“So violent. Why
would I possibly hurt the mother of my future
children?”
Christophe didn’t
understand that, either. The Fae were big on purity of the race and
all that. Sort of like the Atlanteans had been before Conlan
smashed right through that tradition.
“Why her? She’s not
Fae. Why do you want her?”
“Ah, is that what you
believe? I know what you are, now, you know. Atlantean. Evidently
you know less than you think you do, for a living example of an
ancient race.” The Fae finally appeared, roughly in the same place
from which his voice had been projecting. “Fiona is a descendant of
Fae royalty. Seelie Court, to be exact. She will be very happy in
my . . . well, let’s just call them unification efforts, shall we?
Show me how to work the Siren, or I will make her life quite
unpleasant, shall we say? There are many ways to harm a human
without breaking her. Humans are so delightfully fragile, aren’t
they?”
Christophe didn’t
waste time or breath on more threats. “What do you
want?”
“The Siren. Show me.
The ancient legends tell us that it holds enormous power, and I’ve
only been able to access a fraction of it. Your young warrior
friend, the one so besotted with my dear sister, knows nothing of
how to access the gem’s power. But, of course, he doesn’t have your
magic, does he? So now you show me how to control the full spectrum
of power, or else—”
“Yeah, I get it. Or
else bad things happen, and so on and so forth. Show me Fiona.
Now.”
“Never.”
“Take me to Fiona, so
I can see for myself she is unharmed, or you can stuff this gem up
your hairy elf ass,” Christophe snarled. “I have no incentive to
help you unless I know for sure she is safe and well.”
Gideon’s face turned
red, then white again, and Christophe was sure he was finally going
to die, right there on the spot.
“Yes. I will allow
you to see Fiona,” Gideon finally said. “After that, you will show
me how to control the Siren’s power. Willingly speak it to me, or I
will kill you now.”
Christophe inclined
his head. “After I see Fiona, I will show you the full power of the
Siren. Willingly spoken.”
Satisfied, Gideon
pointed toward a doorway that hadn’t been there before. Christophe
led the way out of the door.
The first chamber
they entered was a deep, rich forest. The scent of green and
growing things and the rich loam in the soil permeated the air and
made Christophe wonder how creatures of such viciousness and hate
could create and control nature’s perfection so beautifully. Then
he saw the unhappy faces of several wood sprites, and he knew the
truth. The Unseelie Fae could harness, imprison, and control, but
none of nature worked willingly in cooperation with
them.
Would it be enough to
lead to their downfall? He didn’t know. Millennia of Fae history
said the opposite.
As they neared the
end of the forest chamber, Christophe heard splashing and laughter
like tiny bells. Nymphs. He schooled his face to be completely
expressionless, in case Fiona was there, too. Nymphs could be
fairly outrageous and he’d prefer not to react.
When they rounded the
final tree and came upon the pool, however, it wasn’t Fiona he saw,
but her brother. From the looks of him, he was in excellent
spirits, too.
Not to mention stark
naked.
Expressionless didn’t
cover this. Christophe had to force himself not to laugh. Luckily
the Fae had kept walking and was some distance ahead.
Declan saw him and
turned red, making an attempt to cover himself. “Christophe! Did
you come to get me out of here?”
The nymphs, three of
them, all naked as the day they were born and absolutely lovely in
their watery play, smiled and beckoned him to come join
them.
He bowed but shook
his head. “Alas, ladies, my heart is given to my one true
love.”
They pouted but gave
up gracefully. Nymphs could overpower any man’s will except for one
who was truly in love. For them to have given up so easily, they
must have sensed it powerfully in him.
“That’s delightful,”
one said.
“Lovely, lovely,
love,” the second said, nibbling at Declan’s toes. He turned an
even brighter shade of red.
“We love virgins. Not
that he is one, anymore,” the third said, rubbing her breasts on
Declan’s back. His groan was heartfelt, but he splashed his way out
of the pool and toward Christophe.
“Can you at least put
that thing away?” Christophe tried not to laugh, but it was getting
harder.
“They stole my
clothes,” Declan said, covering himself with his hands and hopping
back and forth.
Christophe took pity
on him, but they needed to get moving before the Fae changed his
mind. “Compliment them and then ask about your clothes,” he
advised. “But they have to be really flowery compliments. Nymphs
love to be flattered. Catch up to me as quickly as you
can.”
Christophe took off
without waiting to hear what Declan came up with, and he caught up
to Gideon just as the Fae was opening another doorway.
“He may come with
you, since his sister needs to see that he is safe, according to
our agreement,” the Fae said, as if bestowing a favor upon a
subject. “I will leave the doorway for him to find.”
Christophe had never
wanted anything as badly in his life as he wanted to crush this
murdering bastard like the monster he was. Not yet, not yet, not
yet. Soon.
The next chamber was
like and yet unlike the first. This, too, was woodlands, but it was
forest; ancient and resonating with
power. No nymphs would dare frolic here. This was for serious
magic. Gideon led the way through the chamber, and this time a
silver throne twined with living vines held center court. Seated on
it, wearing nothing but a filmy gown, Maeve na Feransel kissed
Denal as though her life and future depended on it.
Christophe almost
wanted to turn away from the intimacy of it, but then he remembered
how Denal had come to the Summer Lands.
“Denal,” he called
out, careful not to approach the throne. “It’s Christophe. Are you
still yourself?”
Denal slowly raised
his head, and Christophe saw that the dark blue of his eyes
contained something else. Something more. Fae magic. Intertwined
with Atlantean.
He was too
late.
“I spoke truly and
willingly, Christophe. Go home to Atlantis. I have served Maeve as
her knight for three Fae years and willingly stay longer still. My
duty compels me to honor my promise to her.”
“Duty? What of your
duty to Atlantis?”
A wave of sadness
passed over Denal’s face. “They don’t need me. Maeve does. I belong
here, at least for now.”
Then there was
nothing left to say, but for one final thought.
“Be well, my friend,”
Christophe said, realizing as he said it that it was truth. Denal
was his friend. It had been Christophe who had pushed the rest of
the Seven away so he could be alone, nursing his anger and sense of
betrayal. If he could finally find love, he could accept other
bonds, too. “Be well.”
Denal stood and bowed
to Christophe. “And you, my friend.”
As Denal returned to
his seat, he sent a message to Christophe on the shared Atlantean
mental pathway.
Beware his power, but remember that vanity is his fatal
flaw. Maeve tried her best to rescue Fiona, but Gideon is far too
powerful for her to oppose right now. She has given her permission
to Declan to return home, so his contract in the Summer Lands is
fulfilled and he may leave. As princess, she has the power to
release him even though it was Gideon who abducted him. She may pay
heavily for that, so destroy Gideon if you can.
Christophe
nodded.
Understood. Thank you, Denal. Until we meet
again.
Gideon was still
moving, striding along toward the far wall of the chamber, and
Christophe followed. This time, they entered a room that, though
filled with trees and flowers, was more like an enormous bedchamber
than anything nature had created.
Fiona, dressed in
green silk, sat in a miserable, huddled ball in the middle of the
bed.
“Now. You have seen
her. She is unharmed. Show me how to work the Siren. I know it
enthralls shifters on a far larger scale than I have yet done.
Whole countries will fall to my will with this at my command.”
Gideon’s voice shook with excitement and greed.
Fiona stared at
Christophe in shock. “You’re here? You’re really here? All these
weeks later?”
“It was illusion,
mi amara. I have been here the same
length of time, and it has been only hours, not
weeks.”
She shook her head,
disbelief written plainly on her face. He hated the thought that
she’d been alone and afraid, and that she’d believed he hadn’t come
for her. Perhaps that he wouldn’t come
for her.
Yet another black
mark against Gideon.
“She wouldn’t eat or
drink while you were unconscious, at least not anything that Maeve
herself didn’t give her,” the Fae said sullenly. “You warned her
well, Atlantean. But now that I have you and the Siren, Fiona’s
resistance shall soon fall, as well.”
Christophe drank in
the sight of her. His soul opened up all the way and invited her to
be part of him for now and forever. A small stillness in her
movements gave him reason to hope she had felt it.
“Willingly spoken,
Atlantean. Or else I have a special treat for you.” He clapped his
hands and several enthralled shifters, bunched together, carried a
heavy object into the room.
“A very special
treat, Christophe of Atlantis. Do what I ask, or I’ll put you in
the box that I know you love so well.”
Gideon waved his arm,
and the shifters moved aside. When the last shifter had cleared his
line of sight, something inside Christophe shattered and
broke.
Again.
It was the exact box
from his childhood. Impossible, but true. He was immediately four
years old again, wanting to beg, knowing it would do no
good.
Finally begging,
anyway, because he was unable to do other.
He clamped his lips
together against the howl that threatened to break free and forced
his mind to regroup, again. Forced his will to strengthen, again.
For Fiona.
Gideon threw his head
back and laughed, long and loud.
Christophe vowed to
kill him just for that laugh. The rest of his reasons would be
merely icing on the cake of his vengeance. That laugh, in the face
of his parents’ murder and a little boy’s torture, was judge, jury,
and executioner.
“You’re going to die
for this,” he said softly.
“I find I must have
you climb in the box simply for my amusement,” Gideon replied, a
horrible smile spreading across his face. “Now, I think.”
Suddenly, the Fae was
standing behind Fiona and holding a silver knife to her throat. “Or
I kill her.”
“The mother of your
future children?” Christophe was proud his voice didn’t shake or
waver.
Gideon shrugged. “I
can find another. But you—your pain and terror is so delicious.
Just like your parents’ life force, all those years ago. I must
have yours. Get in the box.”
Fiona cried out, and
a thin trail of blood trickled down her neck. “Don’t do it,
Christophe. Don’t let him break you. He’ll kill me anyway. Just get
out now. Save yourself.”
Christophe looked at
the box, and he looked back at Gideon. And then he smiled. “I’ll
climb in your damn box as many times as you like. Or I’ll show you
how to work this pretty gem.” He held up the Siren. “I won’t do
both, and I won’t do either until you let her go.”
Gideon threw Fiona on
the bed. “I don’t care about her. Just show me how to use the
jewel. The full power, as you willingly promised,
Atlantean.”
“The full power,
Fae,” Christophe said. He held the Siren up in the air, calling on
Poseidon for aid. He pushed his battered, aching mind to focus
harder than it ever had before and pull more power than he had ever
channeled.
“Full power,” he
shouted. “For Atlantis!”
He pushed. With everything he had and everything he
was, he pushed power through the aquamarine and focused every ounce
of his own magic and the magic of the gem to do exactly what it had
been created to do, but with a little tweak of his own. Christophe
did what he had willingly promised to do.
He used the full
power of the Siren to enthrall a Fae prince.