The Winged Fae (The World of Fae) (4 page)

That was the way of the fae after all. To encourage the most outrageous of fool–worthy pranks and see just how many humans fell for them.

So hoaxes such as those wouldn’t have received a second notice in the fae kingdoms.

But one of the jailed Denkar had stolen a turtle fae’s bride right before she walked down the aisle to the altar, which would have been acceptable if the bride had agreed, but she hadn’t. Since the girl was a distant cousin of Prince Deveron’s, the queen had been incensed.

One of the incarcerated fae had tried to steal a kiss from Princess Ritasia, Prince Deveron’s sister—whether she had encouraged it or not—when the queen had no intention of his seeking her daughter’s hand in marriage!

The last confined male fae had made the grievous mistake of saying that Queen Irenis’s dark and fathomless eyes didn’t inspire terror like the cobra fae queen’s did. Whether Queen Irenis’s eyes did or not was mere speculation. But saying such a thing landed the fae in a cell for his impudence. Which made the point: her subjects could believe anything they wanted, but they’d better keep their thoughts to themselves if the queen should take offense.

As soon as Niall made it to the very last cell for prisoners deemed warranting special treatment, isolated from the other cells by stone walls and a metal door with only a barred window that guards and the like could look into, he was surprised to see Deveron and five other fae in attendance.

He had mistakenly assumed, since he was needed because of his special
connection
to the girl, that he’d have a private audience with the winged fae. Maybe the Denkar thought the girl would try to kiss Niall and convince him to release her if they left him alone with her. As much as his head was pounding, he silently scoffed at that.

He meant to stand erect next to Deveron, scowling fiercely, intimidatingly like all the rest of his kind looked, but by the gods, he could barely stand!

Teetering and forcing himself not to lean against Deveron’s solid form, Niall frowned even more at the winged fae.

She should have appeared afraid, as darkly dangerous as his kind looked. They were hunters, after all. And appeared damn displeased. But the nerve of the creature!

She was lying on her back, wrists manacled, her hands beneath her head, legs crossed at the ankles, wearing long silk gowns of pale blue of a fashion suited to fae royalty, and looking more alluring than he was willing to admit, as she stared up at the ceiling with a contemplative expression even. She didn’t appear in the least bit scared. Which made everyone else in the room look even angrier.

“Speak with her, Niall!” Deveron demanded, sounding highly agitated.

Before Niall fell down, his head was in such a state of fuzziness, he took several steps toward the straw mattress suspended on ropes, covered in a scratchy black woolen blanket, then pushed the girl’s satin slipper–covered feet aside and sat down on the edge of the bed.

He didn’t want to let on that he could no longer stand. But he was certain his people would jump to their own conclusions about his action. And not in a way that would please him.

Not only did his own Denkar kind stare at him with mouths agape, except for Deveron, whose eyebrows arched heavenward also, the winged fae finally tore her gaze from the ceiling and looked at him to see who was encroaching on her space. Her eyes widened in recognition.

“Yes, it is me,” he said hotly.

“You have recovered,” she said softly.

He was surprised to hear the regret in her voice. What kind of a game was she playing?

“What is your name?”

“The message,” Deveron said, as if her name meant nothing.

Niall cast Deveron a dark look.
Who
was doing the questioning?

Deveron gave him an even darker look.

Niall relented and asked the girl, “What was your message?”

She smiled and folded her arms. “If they leave, I’ll tell you.”

“You will tell us now,” Deveron commanded.

Someday Deveron would be king. Already he wore the royal mantle well.

“Or?” she asked.

She had the most exasperatingly impish way of speaking that would infuriate any sane person. Even so, Niall stifled a chuckle. He couldn’t believe she’d speak thus to the crown prince of the Denkar fae!

“My lord,” Niall said, “Please give me a few minutes to speak with her alone.”

Deveron studied the wench, then Niall could see he was giving in, his rigid posture relaxing marginally—only for the moment though. “Explain to her if she doesn’t tell you what we wish to know, she
will
suffer the consequences.”

Niall knew what that would entail. Starvation, dehydration, sleep deprivation, even torture, if they thought it necessary. They would eventually learn what they wanted from her. But he didn’t want it to go that far and would do everything in his power to convince her to speak up before it was too late.

When Deveron lead the other men from the cell, Niall said again, “What is your name?”

“Serena.” She smiled sweetly at him. “Come closer.”

He knew the guards would have removed her weapons, so he wasn’t concerned she’d put him in another comatose state. But he wasn’t about to let her play him either.

“What was your message?” he asked, firmly, without hesitation, demanding an answer, not moving any closer to her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you to sleep. You had startled me.”

He snorted. Although her words sounded like the truth, he still couldn’t believe she had kissed him. “Why did you kiss me?”

Her lips turned up in the most exasperatingly wicked smile. “I give you permission to kiss me back.”

He stared at her with incredulity. “I would not wish it under any circumstances.”

“That’s not what you indicated when I kissed you.”

His mouth opened, but he clamped his lips tight after that. What had he done? Certainly not encouraged her in any way. He had been dead to the world.

Without his asking, she gave him the answer. “You smiled after I kissed you.”

He arched one brow.

She shrugged. “I guessed it was good for you.”

In his dreams, yes. Ignoring her comment, he asked the one that Queen Irenis herself would wish answered soon. “What was the message that you’d painted on the wall?”

“Take me there, and I’ll interpret it for you.”

Hearing her words, he smiled.

“You are not afraid, are you?”

As if he was afraid of the girl. “You can tell me right here what you said on the wall.”

“I don’t think so. I believe, if your people cannot read it, I must have written the message wrong.”

“All right, then tell me what you had intended to say.” When she looked downright mutinous and wouldn’t say, he warned, “The queen will not go easy with you.”

Despite what Serena had done to him and fighting the urge to believe her when she said she was sorry for putting him to sleep and giving him this headache to rival any other, he didn’t want her harmed.

Maybe it had been the kiss she’d given him that swayed his thinking.

“If I do something for you, will you help me to escape?” she whispered.

His jaw dropped. She
had
to be kidding.

Chapter 4

As soon as Serena found herself in irons in a lion fae cell, she knew she was in real trouble. But she’d put on airs that none of this mattered to her in the least. She wouldn’t beg Niall, although if he didn’t agree to rescue her, she was considering doing just that.

“Hurry,” she said, her voice hushed, knowing that most likely someone from the dark fae court hidden from her view outside the cell was trying to hear everything she and Niall talked about.

As if he was trying to humor her, Niall said in a conspiratorial whisper back, “What would you give me that would convince me to free you?” He looked as though he was fighting a smile.

But he also was so nearly out of it because of the potion she’d dosed him with, that he had to sit on the bed at her feet and looked as though he could lie down right beside her and sleep another forty hours. She had a reputation for making extremely powerful sleeping potions.

“I will eliminate any of the side effects that you suffer from because of the sleeping powder that I had blasted you with. I must warn you, the effects can last up to two months or even longer.”

He sat up a little straighter, his eyes widening fractionally.

Yeah, he was interested all right.

“But the antidote I have is not with me.”

He gave her a look like that figured.

She lifted her shoulder in a slight shrug. “It would not do to carry the antidote with me if others could wrest it away from me and counter the effect of the drug. So I would have to take you with me to the place where I keep my supply.”

He gave her a small smile and an even slighter shake of his head. “Next, you will have to deal with Queen Irenis herself.” He rose from the bed too suddenly, and he nearly collapsed, cursed under his breath, and grabbed the bed to take his seat again.

“The antidote will remove all the effects of the drug, I swear it,” she whispered, as she heard footfalls approaching the cell.

Someone else would interrogate her, and she knew he would not go easy on her. She would have to admit she was the princess before long, and all would be lost.

***

Never in a million years would Niall consider removing a prisoner from a cell when the queen had ordered the prisoner put there.
Never.
But no way could he continue to feel as if he was on a drugged–out binge, unable to function properly no matter how hard he tried. For two months or longer? He couldn’t deal with feeling like this for that long.

“If you are lying to me…,” he said softly with a hint of dark warning. He would strangle her himself.

“I am not lying to you,” she said, reaching her manacled wrists out to him.

The queen would terminate him herself if she knew what he was now considering on doing, but he couldn’t live like this either. He only hoped he could convince his aunt someday that he had no choice but to do what he was about to do. He headed for the wrought iron hook that held the key to the manacles and the cell.

He rushed back to the bed with the key to the manacles in hand. “They will be listening.”

“The message states that I wish the queen well on her birthday,” Serena said for all to hear.

Niall looked up from the manacles he was unlocking to see Serena’s expression. She was smiling.

He let out his breath, pulled the manacles away, but not before he seized one of her wrists. If she fae traveled, she was taking him with her.

Footfalls reached the door, and the bolt was thrown open.

The winged fae vanished in the way of fae travel, only this time taking Niall with her just as he heard Deveron shout, “No! Niall!”

Niall knew he’d be manacled in that cell next as soon as the trackers caught up with him. But he could handle anything if Serena would give him the antidote.

When they alighted, they were behind a shell of a building as if it was one of those movie props Niall had heard of. Behind him was a wall of trees, and he wondered where Serena had taken him.

He was glad he was used to fae travel or he would have been dizzy from transporting in that way. As bad as he felt from her drug, he probably would have been on his knees when he arrived. Which wouldn’t have mattered due to the way he was feeling, but he did not want to look that indisposed in front of the winged fae.

He glanced around again, smelling turkey legs roasting and a hint of smoke on the hot humid breeze. Where in the world were they?

The most exquisite Russian–sounding gypsy music played in the distance as a man shouted, “Come ye, folk, see what wares I have to offer ye.”

Was this a village in Mabara?

“Where is the cure?” Niall asked, not letting go of Serena’s wrist in the event she attempted fae travel again.
Without him this time.

She sighed and with a hard twist of her wrist, broke free of him. Before he could grab her wrist again, she took his hand as if they were boyfriend and girlfriend on a stroll in a park. Feeling her warm hand around his, he stared at her incredulously. Did she really like him? Or was this just a ploy to give him a false sense of security to make him believe she didn’t intend to run out on him?

“At least since you are wearing your tunic, breeches, and high leather suede boots, you’ll fit in nicely here,” she said cheerfully.

Why wouldn’t he fit in? He was wearing the height of fashion for any royal in any of the kingdoms. Not that he was that fashion conscious, but Queen Irenis expected it of any royals in her kingdom. When they visited the human world, they could dress as sloppy as the humans—to fit in. So while he was at South Padre Island, he loved to wear a pair of torn jeans, scuzzy sneakers, and a thousand–times washed T–shirt that was so soft, he barely felt it against his skin.

But he had business to take care of, and it had nothing to do with how he was dressed or what her hand on his was doing to his hormones and the fascination she held for him.

“Where is the antidote?” he asked again, growling this time as she steered him around the back of the building, and they began to walk down a treed path where tons of people dressed in the strangest attire clustered in groups on either side or walked in front of them or toward them in a hurry to get somewhere.

The first thing he noticed was that they were all humans dressed in royal 19
Century clothing, or earlier periods. Highlanders in kilts, a Native American in buckskins, men and women dressed in leathers featuring silver chains and other silver ornaments that glistened in the sunlight—though he wasn’t sure what the people dressed in such a fashion were supposed to be.

And nearby, stalls for selling food: turkey legs, ice cream, sandwiches, and shops offering the strange clothing the humans were wearing, hats from varying centuries, copper dragon fountains spouting water, and pewter dragons curled around crystal balls in another. He’d never seen anything so strange like this place.