King of Always: A Fae Romance (Black Blood Fae Book 2)
King of Always: Chapter 19

Raff

“Be careful, Elas. Please don’t drop him!” yells Isla, waving her arms in the meadow below.

From my view above the treetops, she looks roughly the size of a moss elf, but unlike the demure little forest dwellers, Isla is a force of nature and blazes like a wildfire.

With each beat of Elas’s wings, hair whips over my face, and I lose sight of Isla on the ground. One moment I catch a flash of gold hair—then it’s gone. Her tunic flutters like a bright turquoise flag, then the world tilts and all I see are the mottled gray and bronze tops of the beech trees growing ever closer as we swoop toward the mountainside clearing they enfold.

As we descend, wind tears at my clothing and my eyes water. I’ve never felt as weak as I do right now with the technomancer’s arms banded around my chest, my body swinging loosely.

In the form of my firebird, I love to fly. Primitive instincts take over, and the freedom is exhilarating. No other feeling comes close—not hunting, not feasting and drinking, nor bedding the rarest fae beauty. Not even setting an inferno ablaze. But this, being transported through the air like a wretched puppet, this is pure torture.

“Brace yourself,” says Elas. “We are about to land.”

Wind roars in my ears, tearing at my limbs, then moments later my body thuds against the earth. I tumble along the grass, pain exploding inside my skull as the loose wall shackles fling about and strike me repeatedly. White light flashes in my mind, then I see stars spinning, Elas skidding to a halt in front of me, and then Isla—Isla bouncing on her toes, hands covering her face as she squeals.

“Pardon the rough landing, Prince Rafael,” Elas says, ruffling his wings, the metal feathers chiming. “I misjudged the distance and came in too fast.”

“Maybe you should have practiced that,” says Isla, running to where I sit with my arms bracing my drawn-up knees as I wait for the mountain to right itself.

“You could’ve killed him. Those chains have made him as weak as a baby,” she scolds as she checks me for injuries, patting over my body.

“You must be referring to human ones. Fae babes are born strong,” says Elas.

She scowls at him and then grips my chin, pulling my face close. “Are you okay, Raff?”

“I was perfectly fine until you referred to me as a weakling.” My frown turns into a broad grin. “But as I sit in this meadow, I already feel my strength returning.” Sunshine warms my skin, its healing power seeping into my blood.

Used to the deep blackness of my cell, outside in the brilliant light, my eyes feel like they’re bleeding, full of shards of glass. But I do not care. As I stare into the bluest of skies, the pain almost unbearable, hope blooms in my chest. With green grass and wildflowers beneath me, birds and insects drifting on the warm breeze above, I could not be happier.

“How did you convince the Merit king to agree to this outing?” I ask Isla.

Brushing off her clothes, she gets to her feet. “I told him the lack of sunshine and fresh air was killing you and that you’d be dead in a matter of days if you didn’t get a medicinal dose fast. He trusts Elas and knows that in your current condition, you couldn’t possibly escape on foot. I guess he needs you alive.”

“For now,” I add.

“Can you stand?”

Shielding my eyes from the sun, I squint at her. “I can try.”

Elas hurries to my side and helps me rise. Muscles burning, my head spins, the sun’s rays warming my poisoned blood.

With my face tipped toward the sky, I turn in a slow circle, my arms stretched wide as I concentrate on the tiny ball of heat kindling at my core, shaping it into elemental magic.

Tiny yellow flames dance over my open palms, but no matter how hard I try, I cannot make them grow. Fury roiling in my gut, my chest, I glare at the cold iron shackled to my ankle, the loose chain dragging behind my right leg.

The pity evident on Isla’s face makes me even angrier.

“I’m sorry, Raff. I wish we could take it off and smash the damn thing to pieces.” Her brow smooths. “But, finally, I have some good news for you. Elas has a potion that’ll hold off the iron sickness for a few days. It won’t help with the poison in your blood,” the effects of which reduce every time she is near, “but it’ll give you enough strength for an escape bid in three night’s time.”

“Escape?” I trip over a small rock, stumbling like a fool. “How?”

She folds then unfolds her arms, flicking a worried glance at Elas. He nods.

“Well?”’ I demand. “You had better tell me quickly.”

Her leather boots scuff the grass as she shifts her weight from foot to foot. “Um…you aren’t going to like this much, but it’s the only way.”

Advancing toward her, I watch the pulse flutter at her throat. “Speak.”

Fingers clasped together at her chest—a pleading gesture I’m very familiar with. Whenever her diabolical pranks cross the line, a daily occurrence, Spark uses this exact posture to avoid my wrath.

“I know I said I’d stay away from Temnen, but…well… Now don’t get mad—we’re betrothed.”

“Betrothed?” I roar. “You have lost your mind—”

“Whoa. Take it easy. It’s only for three more days. Then we’re going to take the Merits out in one fell swoop and beat it fast.”

“Isla.” My voice rumbles a warning.

She rests her hand on my bicep over the clean leathers Elas gave me before we left the Black Tower. “It’s fine, Raff, I promise. Lidwinia wouldn’t let me do anything stupid and neither would Elas. Would you?” she asks, turning to the winged Merit.

“This is true, Prince Rafael. In three night’s hence, Isla will imbue the main dish at the feast with terror and sorrow. While the court is busy wiping their tears, Riven will free you from the iron chains and transport you to Ithalah Forest. His owl, Meerade, is on her way to your land now to advise the Elementals of the plan. Members of your court will meet you in the forest and return you home safely.”

“Riven?” The chain about my leg rattles as I swing around. “That fae is not entirely sane. He’s dangerous and is not to be trusted.”

“Riven is fine. Come,” says Elas, beckoning me forward. “We must return to the tower before Temnen hears of our excursion and seeks to join us.”

I tip my chin at the two swords hanging from the technomancer’s belt. “Give me one of those.”

Elas bows before walking up to me. “Of course, but drink this first.”

He hands me a tiny translucent capsule—the iron-sickness antidote. As I bite into the crystalline casing, bitter liquid floods my mouth. I swallow and warmth flows through my veins, instantly clearing my head. “This is amazing. What is in it?”

“Secrets.” Smirking, the Merit passes me a sword, then watches as I test the grip and balance, swiping it through the air.

It feels good to use a blade once again. Although I am not Talamh Cúig’s finest swordsman, only one fae can best me—my brother Ever.

Moving fast, I lunge twice, thrusting hard. Quick to respond, Elas draws his sword, parrying, then slicing his blade. I strike his shoulder and wings clank and rattle.

“Raff,” yells Isla. “What are you doing? Don’t hurt him!”

Elas and I laugh as our blades clash together, and I reply, “I wouldn’t dare. I need him alive so he can take care of you.”

I slash more fiercely, the brutal clanging sound music to my ears. I have badly missed daily combat training in the onyx courtyard—the addictive violence, working my muscles until they shake, and kicking Kian’s butt to the ground.

“But if Elas fails in this task, when I am free, I shall show him no mercy.”

Elas moves faster, silver blade flashing in the light. Clang. Clang. Clang. Metal strikes metal, our lungs laboring hard. We back away, circling each other.

“You are fortunate I will not strike a killing blow to one in so weakened a state, no matter how ungrateful he is,” Elas taunts.

My face raised to my beloved sun, I sprint, then close my eyes and spin through the air, kicking the sword from his grasp in one strike. It skitters along the grass. From somewhere behind us, Isla cries out.

Blade pressed against Elas’s throat, I say, “Do you yield to me, Merit mage of metal and darkness?”

His breath pants over my face. His eyes are black, skin ivory, and when he grimaces, needle-sharp fangs press into his bottom lip. He’s a blood-sucking fae, rare in the Seelie Court but common in the Land of Merits.

He snarls. “Were it not for my potion, you wouldn’t have succeeded in lifting the sword off the ground.”

Laughing, I release him, collect his sword and throw it toward him. He catches it with ease.

“True,” I admit. “And I thank you for this glorious reprieve from my vile cell and the ghastly iron sickness. And most of all for the gift of friendship you’ve given to my human.”

Elas snorts. “Fortunately for you, she cannot hear you speak thusly. These last weeks, I’ve come to know her well. Claiming ownership is not the way to gain her affection.”

“Correct again.” I clap his back, pleased to see him stumble from the impact. “Your words are like arrows, aimed straight and true. I see why Isla likes you.”

“Okay, guys. I’m sure you’re both awesome warriors.” Isla hurries toward us, her hair rippling like gold silk in the breeze. “It’s wonderful to see you looking more like yourself, Raff, but Elas is right, we need to get you back to the tower. I still haven’t convinced Temnen to let the cooks prepare my special recipe for our betrothal banquet yet, and I need to spend some time working on him.”

Anger spikes in my blood. “Yes, you must work hard on your thoroughly irrational plan! You are both deluded. As soon as the Merits realize you have left the Great Hall, the king will have his guard after us. What man wouldn’t notice the disappearance of his intended at their betrothal feast?”

“Temnen,” Elas and Isla both declare.

“The plan may not be perfect, Raff, but it’s all we’ve got. You’re not going to survive in that cell much longer. And I’m not hanging around to endure another Blood Sun ceremony.”

“Elas can fly us out of here. It would be far simpler.”

“It would be if he could carry more than one person at the same time,” says Isla. “And if he helped us escape, he could never come back to his home again.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And that would be a problem? Personally, I see it as a benefit of the plan. Elas can be rid of this dreaded place forever.”

“Not everyone wants to live where nature magic rules, Prince Rafael.” Elas flaps his wings, his body hovering a couple of feet above the ground. “Some of us quite like machines.” He only says that because he is one.

Isla lays back in the grass, her gold locks threading through purple and red wildflowers. “What a beautiful day! I’m just gonna lie back and enjoy it while you two argue. Let me know when you’re ready to leave.”

She looks as pretty as a river nymph.

“One moment,” I tell Elas as I crouch beside Isla. “Before I agree to go along with your outrageous plan, answer me this—will you finally admit that you are my fire queen? That we are destined for each other, and that you will never allow yourself to be joined with the Merit frog prince? Have you accepted who you are yet?”

Fire flashes in her eyes. “And what about you? Do you admit you’ve fallen in love with me?”

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I barely comprehend what I feel, and I certainly can’t explain it to her.

Her brows pinch together. “Just as I suspected. You haven’t got a clue, have you? Therefore, I’m still not interested.” She offers me her hand.

What? Are we making a bargain? My mind whirls in confusion. I cannot remember what I agreed to. Regardless, I clasp her hand. Instantly, hot flames leap along my arm. “Damn,” I say, wrenching it away. “Amazing. You are making fire without even trying.”

“And for your information, that means I’m really angry. Oh, and I nearly forgot—to be crystal clear and answer your stupid questions, I’m not yours, and neither am I Temnen’s plaything. I’m a good person, an awesome cook, and I even possess a wicked bit of burgeoning fire magic. So listen carefully, I don’t need either of you two knuckleheads to complete me. I’m doing fine on my own. Okay?”

“But, Isla—”

“No buts. This is the plan: I’m going to ruin Terrible Temnen’s engagement bash by making everyone cry. While the Merits are distracted, with Riven’s help, I’m going to set you free. So if you think about that carefully, you’ll find that it’s actually you, Prince Rafael, you obnoxiously self-centered, fickle faery who needs me. A human—imagine that!”

For the first time in my life, I find myself utterly speechless and completely in awe of someone besides myself.

Thanks to Isla, wonders will never cease.

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