Prince by Blood and Bone: A Fantasy Romance of the Black Court (Tales of the Black Court) (9 page)

Her rare Gift of true-shifting her appearance with her mood kept her secure in her power. Not many had the power or the sheer balls to rule an Underhill Court. It took wit, and politics, and a quality of magic that only a select few were ever born with. Her majesty, Queen Aeval Morrigan de Dannan, had been born Gifted, born royal, and born beautiful. She’d been tested by time and magics and her family and she should have ruled for thousands of years more. But not now. Now, because of Haddon’s finely hidden manipulations, and meticulously administered drugs, she leaked power wherever she went, at the mercy of her emotions and out of control of her shifting.

But none of that mattered today.

The gnome lifted his groveling face off of the grass and spoke, “I have given my word, Your Majesty, no word may pass my lips.”

The queen’s death-white skin mottled, the stark blue veins thick and throbbing, and her violet eyes whirled. Her large black wings unfolded, the sharp-edged, iridescent black feathers gleaming in the afternoon sun. The wings began a slow broad motion, stirring up the breeze. The ancient trees’ leaves shivered, and a small fairy caught napping in the branches batted its wings as it attempted to flee.

Haddon surreptitiously stroked the polished wood of the throne, admiring how the deep almost-black of the ancient wood brought out the green of his skin. He hid a small smile as the queen’s snaky black ringlets, dark with blood-red lowlights, twisted and turned and lashed out, the hair hooking the tiny fairy and tangling it in its coils. It hung, screaming, until the queen plucked it from her hair’s grip and popped it into her mouth, crunching down and chewing, all the while staring at the gnome.

Damp patches appeared under the creature’s arms, and the murky odor of gnome sweat rose. Haddon pulled out a scented handkerchief and held it to his nose.

“My queen, perhaps we can find a way around this issue.” The gnome dared to look at Haddon, but he raised his eyebrows and stared back until the little beast shrank down, nearly forming a ball on the grass. “Gnome!” Haddon snapped. “When you made this particularly bad bargain, did you say you would not
write
of it?”

“No, My Lord,” he whispered.

“Excellent. Bring pen and paper for the gnome, and be quick about it!” Haddon clapped his hands. A pageboy flew into action, his slender legs moving fast. Haddon stared at the boy’s soft, touchable skin, and licked his lips. He was new here. Fresh.

The trembling page boy handed over the writing supplies, and the shaking gnome dipped the quill into the ink. Drips of black spattered as he scrawled his answer on the paper. He finished and threw himself flat on the ground, the quill stabbing deep into the grass beside him. The page boy handed Haddon the paper. He grew light-headed as he read it and knew his skin must be as pale as washed-out lettuce.

“What is it? What has my wretch of a son done now?”

“The gnome writes that he’s close to undoing the curse.”

“He’s what?” The queen’s massive wings lifted and stroked the air. Haddon hung onto the paper and dared to lay a restraining hand on the queen’s arm.

She glanced at him and eased her wings to a stop. He hid his pleasure. She was under his control. He’d waited years for this. Once he’d been her whipping boy, but soon, very soon, he’d have it all. Her under his thumb, the Tuathan’s respect, and all the power of the Black Court.

“Write carefully, gnome,” he said. “That is, if you want your sniveling children and wife to continue living in our guest quarters down below.” Under his light touch the queen’s hand clenched tight around the arm of the throne, and he thrilled at her anger. “Is the prince in his regular form?” Haddon asked. “Is he free? Has he managed to work any magic? Any magic at all besides that ridiculous fire spell you reported a few years ago?”

Beezel stood, taking back the sheet of vellum in his quivering grasp. The quill snapped in his trembling grip, but the page boy had foreseen the dilemma and had brought more than one. Ah, the boy was smart, too. Haddon gave him an approving look, and the naive child smiled back.

The gnome wrote out his answers and handed them over.

“Tell me.” The queen’s eyes whirled and Haddon flinched.

Despite his pleasure in her increasing insanity, despite the fact that his power increased with every fit she pitched and every courtier she killed, he still did not want to tell her this news. She would be out of control, and he didn’t have his power base ready yet for the take-over. If she lost it too badly, one of the other monarchs could come in and take over, and he would be back at the bottom of the heap again. He had no friends at the other courts, only enemies.

“Tell me!” the queen demanded. Her long, black nails dug into the wood of the throne. The moon-white skulls swinging around her neck clattered together, their teeth chattering as they struck.

He had no choice. He cleared his throat. “Your son has managed to obtain a witch. The gnome thinks she’ll be the one to undo the spell.”

“How could that happen? Did he manage to leave Cairngloss?”

“Gnome?”

Beezel scratched some more words.

“Kian used witches magic to breach your wards. They haven’t foiled the curse yet, but we should come up with a plan.”

“Kill her. Kill the witch.” She panted. The mist that harbingered her changes began to rise, and Haddon rushed to find a solution. He’d kept the Crone, the queen’s worst and most dangerous aspect, from appearing for the last five years. He had to keep her from appearing now. The Crone was not insane, not crazy with emotion. The Crone was something worse. A true psychopath, without anger, without remorse. If she came out, she’d torture any and all, including him, until they gave up their secrets. And if the Crone found out what he’d done, all would be lost.

“My queen,” he said, stroking her forearm, soothing the mist away. “Now that he knows this works, he’ll just obtain another one. It’s better if we think of something else. We need more eyes and ears on the prince than this sniveling creature.”

She half-rose from her seat. “He’s going to win! I can’t have him win.”

To any listening ears it would sound like the queen talked of her son, but Haddon heard the desperation under her words and knew she spoke of someone else.

“I can take care of it.” He lowered his voice so that only she could hear. “You will have the prince’s power, and once you have it you will be able to take on the Gold King, but you must wait and let me take care of things in the meantime. Don’t I always take care of everything?”

She nodded. She settled back, but her eyes still whirled, violet maelstroms that could suck him down forever. He pulled a jewelry box out from his pocket and opened it, pulling out a gold locket.

“Give this to the witch. Make sure she takes it and wears it.” He’d been saving this particular item for something else, but this was a desperate moment. He would not lose everything now because of a spoiled prince.

“How can I do that, My Lord? She doesn’t trust me,” the gnome whined.

“You won’t have to do a thing. As soon as she sees it, it will draw her in. It has two spells on it. The first will lead her to her heart’s desire. That will take her away from the prince.” Until the queen was completely under his control, Prince Kian must stay locked up. “You keep the box. It will enable you to track the locket. That way you’ll be able to make sure she stays far from the Prince.”

Beezel bowed.

Haddon waved the stinking gnome away. He’d had enough of gnomes, in fact, he was ready to call it a day.

“What if this doesn’t work? What if she stays and breaks the curse?” The queen was still agitated. He stroked her arm and she settled down into her throne.

“The spell confining the prince also keeps us from seeing into Cairngloss, and that creature is almost useless.” He waved at the gnome. “This will allow us to track the witch, and if Kian escapes…we’ll be able to track him, if he takes her with him.”

The queen’s mental processes had slowed with her increasing volatility. He could almost see her thinking, trying to come up with a reason this wouldn’t work. She settled back into her throne and tapped the wooden arms with her long nails. “It won’t work.”

Haddon leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Send the gnome away, Your Majesty, and I’ll tell you the second part to my plan.”

She smiled and ordered the gnome back to Cairngloss. Haddon proceeded to fill her in on what they could do to control the rebellious Prince Kian, once and for all, and achieve the queen’s goals of sucking dry her son’s massive Gift, and keeping it all for herself.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Kian paced the length of the workroom. His cloak swirled around him, and his heart thumped loud in his ears. “Are you ready yet?” He’d waited so long for a real shot at crushing this curse, and now Bryanna was fiddling with everything and making him wait. Nothing satisfied her, from the quality of the beeswax candles, to the exacting placement of the very large pentacle he’d be trapped in during the bulk of the spell.

“You have to give me room to work, Kian.” Bryanna frowned and laid the spell-book on the table. “I think we’re ready, but I want to be sure. There’s a lot riding on this and with that last sentence unreadable, I’m guessing how it will end up.”

“It’s fine,” he said, irritated by her attention to detail even while he appreciated her efforts on his behalf. “The pages of that old book will be worn thin by the amount of times you’ve checked that spell.”

She’d donned a loose, white robe in preparation for the ceremony and after all his reading about witches, he knew that underneath, she was stark naked. If he’d had any energy to spare, he would have had a terrible time resisting her tonight. She’d washed her hair, and from across the room, the honey and chamomile mixed with her own innate scent, teased his nose as she bent over her collection of spell implements. Her collar gaped, giving him a glimpse of bare breast. Despite his preoccupation, his dick twitched. He growled under his breath and resumed his pacing.

“I’ve told you, this isn’t my thing. I need to be sure.” Bryanna picked up a piece of chalk and blew out a breath. “I’m going to draw the circle and pentacle now, so let me be. We don’t want anything going wrong.

“I’ve never seen anyone do so much preparation to work a simple spell.”

“This isn’t a simple spell. At least, not for me. And this is how witches work spells. What were you doing before?”

He refused to answer that. His failed attempts were none of her business.

“Sure, we can draw energy from the ground and pinch hit,” she said. “But this is better.”

He hoped so. He wasn’t sure what ‘pinch hit’ was, but it sounded quicker than this drawn-out process she insisted on. She’d made Beezel wash the floor three times, once with soap and water, once with vinegar, and once with an herbal mixture that made his nose wrinkle. Now, beneath the flickering light of the wall sconces, she finished checking the measurements for the pentacle and drew the first chalk lines. His nerves screamed.

“It’s done.”

“Can we start?”

All of a sudden he wasn’t ready. What if it failed? What if something worse happened? He stared at Bryanna moving confidently around the circle and his stomach clenched.

Everything depended on this slender, golden maid. His life, his followers, his freedom.

“How long until the moon rises?” She placed the first of four fat, brand new, beeswax candles at the northernmost point of the circle, adjusting its placement not once, but three times, before placing the rest of the candles at the other directions.

He gazed into the wide, silver bowl of water on the table. A starry night sky stared back at him with a sliver of white at its side. “A few more minutes. She’s just peeking her face out now.”

“While we wait, let’s go over it one last time. I’ll set the circle and raise the shields. Once that’s done and the space within is protected I’ll set the boundaries of the pentacle wards. I’ll leave one side open and let you in.” Her cheeks pinked. “You’ll need to drop the cloak.”

“I get it,” he growled. She hadn’t seen all of him—he didn’t want her to—but he needed to lift his curse more than he needed to keep his dignity.

She nodded, avoiding his eyes. “Then I’ll ready the herbs and say the spell.” She picked up the book and frowned at the page. “I wish I could read all the lines here. There’s been some water damage to the ink. It says “
and the transformation will take place. Animal will become human
…” something, something, “
the spell caster should cut open the pentacle and
…” then I can’t read the next line.” She looked back at him. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this. I have no idea what will happen at the end.”

“Don’t back out now. All the words are there, all the ingredients, all the steps but that last piece. You’ve changed the wording from wolf to animal. It should work.”

“It should work, but I’d feel better if I could read that last line. It could be important.” She exhaled, blowing a stray lock of hair off of her forehead. “One last check.”

She crossed to the table and gazed at the tools and herbs next to the bowl of water. “Wolfsbane, blessed knife…I wish I had my athame, but this will have to do.” Bryanna peered anxiously into the bowl. “The moon’s almost risen. I think we can get started.”