Curse of the Fae King (20 page)

Leonidas shot to his feet, then wished he hadn’t. “Elves’ blood, don’t talk about Meena like that.”

Mordred’s smile turned lecherous. “Don’t worry. I dealt with her. I even forbade the servants to disturb you. I told them we were talking food and politics—two things dear to their hearts.”

“Did you hurt her?” Leonidas demanded.

Mordred lolled back in the chair and put his feet on the table. Leonidas winced when the metal heels clattered against the solid oak. He didn’t remember his half brother being so bloody loud before. Maybe a drink would help clear his thoughts.

He grabbed for the tankard, but Mordred switched glasses. “Here, have some water, and don’t come any closer. You seriously stink. I bet your busty little Witch wouldn’t approve of the way you smell. In fact, after last night, I doubt she approves of you at all. And as for your scrawny bit on the side—no, I didn’t hurt her. You know me better than that.”

Vague memories surfaced. Leonidas groaned. Had he really threatened to take the runaway into his bed? Yeah, he had. He’d wanted to wound Meena the way she had him—but now that he was calmer, he’d rather face a flogging than hurt her like that. He couldn’t regret last night’s actions more.

Mordred took another chance to torment his brother. “I did what you wanted with your women. The scrawny one’s safe, and the curvy one’s in the dungeons along with the Witch and the Vampire.”

Elves’ blood, does he have a death wish, talking about my Meena like that? I’ll choke the life out him if he doesn’t get some respect in his voice when talks about my woman
. Leonidas was just about to tell his half brother a few home truths when he remembered Meena blacking out. Elves’ blood, his prejudice and anger had driven her to that—but she should have told him she was a Witch. Guilt laced through his hangover, and he slumped back in his chair with a groan.

Poor Meena suffered because of him, but damn it, couldn’t he go more than a couple of minutes without her invading his brain? She’d betrayed him, kept silent when she should have spoken—but she’d moaned for his loving touch every time she shared his bed. She was a generous lover, and in his world of aloof women and cruel curses, her honest and open nature delighted him.

He loved the way she smiled as she brushed back rainbow-streaked curls from her cheek, and the way she hummed under her breath when she was happy. Everything about her—big or small—made his pulse race with excitement. Just the thought of her turned his cock hard. His woman possessed a warrior’s heart, and she was always willing to stand up for what was right, but she’d suckered him with her
I don’t have any powers
act. He wasn’t sure he could forgive that. Even when her lies left him indignant and hurting, he still loved her, and like an idiot he’d let his brother toss her in a cell.

Mordred watched him work through last night’s events with a drunk’s ponderous concentration, then poured him another glass of water. “I can’t spare the magic to fix a hangover. Go outside and stick your head under a pump or something. Get rational enough to read through a section of the Elf archives. Then we’ll talk.”

Leonidas held his head as he staggered to the door. “Damn it, Mord, you need to get a better brewer. That ale’s downright bad. And don’t think I’m going anywhere until I’ve seen Meena.”

“That ale’s no worse than any other foodstuff we produce. Why do you think we trade with the humans? My Elves labor in the fire opal mines, but they’re warriors, not miners. We’re starving, Leo, and the only solution I can see is locked up in my dungeon. And he’s too damn stubborn for his own good. Your woman’s safe and reasonably comfortable—for now. Get out of here, and don’t come back until you smell less like the midden on a sunny day.”

“He”?
Not Meena then? Maybe once Leonidas’s thoughts cleared, things wouldn’t seem so bad. Mordred didn’t need his true-mate, just wanted another prisoner to work a few spells or something. Leonidas would do whatever he could to stop the Elves from starving as long as Meena stayed safe and well. “That damn Witch is my true-mate. Whatever I said or did last night, I won’t let anyone hurt her. Not even you. I haven’t told her my feelings since I’ve nothing but pain to give her. If I don’t fuck someone else in twenty-six days’ time, I’ll turn feral, and women might die as a result.”

Mordred’s jaw dropped, and he sat back to consider while his half brother headed off to find a pump.

* * * *

Meena paced her cell. Her fists opened and closed as if she wanted to strangle someone. The Fae king perhaps? She loved Leonidas completely, but he’d turned on her like a panther bringing down prey. And why did the Elves want her anyway? Her father looked like he hadn’t eaten since King Herodotus betrayed him. Judging by the length of his hair and beard, he’d been stuck down here for years. “Okay, Mum. You’re the one with the visions. How the hell do we get out of here?”

Her mother’s voice cracked. “It’s a bit hazy, love. Something’s changed. My vision’s shifting, and nothing’s clear anymore.”

Suddenly angry at the woman she’d come here to save, Meena snapped, “Some plan you’ve got there, Mum. Maybe it’s the way you cursed Leonidas, Herodotus’s son. I get that you hated the whole family, but why pass it down to him?”

“I didn’t,” her mother answered, “or at least I didn’t mean to. I just wanted Herodotus to suffer the same sort of hell he put me through when he separated me from your father. The curse stops him finding his true-mate—ever. Well, he might find her, but I planted an insatiable beast inside him. No woman will bond with him when he needs to fuck someone new each month. If he doesn’t, his beast takes over, and he becomes everything the Fae despise.”

Meena had dreamed of being Leonidas’s one and only love, but thanks to her mother’s curse, that could never happen. She wasn’t his—and even if she was, she’d have to share him. Whoever made up that nonsense about half a loaf being better than no bread had been stupid or half-starved. Just like she was starved for Leonidas’s love and affection—not that he’d offered it anyway. Hekate, that hurt like he’d twisted his rapier in her heart. Her mother had ruined his life. No wonder he’d been so furious last night.

Meena had abandoned everyone and everything she loved once, and she’d survived—barely. After all that happened, the pain of leaving her homeland seemed such a little thing compared to the agony that scorched her heart. She ached for Leonidas’s pain too. How lonely and hopeless his life must be. No wonder he hated Witches, and now, half-naked and locked in Mordred’s dungeon, she understood why. “Back to your curse, Mum. Leonidas doesn’t deserve it. Set him free.”

Elizbetta spat in the slop bucket in the corner. “After the way his family betrayed your father? No way. Let him suffer for what they did to my Vlad. If I could, I’d curse the whole Fae nation, along with the Elves.”

This woman with her hard edges and bitter words was nothing like the peaceful herbalist Meena knew and loved. Maybe a twenty-three-year separation from your true-mate did that to you. No wonder her mum cried herself to sleep so often, but would it hurt to have told Meena the truth? But then she hadn’t been exactly up front and honest with Leonidas. Fear, love, and anger were terrible emotions—life wrecking even.

For the first time, she envied the Fae their cold demeanor and their frozen hearts. It didn’t help that Leonidas’s easy grin and dimples warmed her in ways she hadn’t thought possible. He hadn’t seemed so cold to her.

She hugged her chest for warmth, but there was nothing submissive about the tilt of her chin. “I love Leonidas. He’d a good man who doesn’t deserve your curse.”

“So good he threw you in the dungeons? No, Meena, I wouldn’t help even if I could.” Elizbetta fumed as she paced her cell.

Meena didn’t know whether to weep or throw up. “What do you mean? Even if you could?”

Elizbetta grinned with cruel satisfaction. “My hormones were raging when I cursed the Fae king, but I never cursed his bloodline. Somehow my magic mingled with my emotions, and the curse took on a life of its own. I can’t take it back, not that I’d ever want to.”

Meena sank back on the paillasse and stared at the ceiling. There was no way to free Leonidas, and he deserved so much more than a life lived alone. When they got out of here, she’d study every grimoire she could lay her hands on until she found a way to release him—but the most powerful ones were locked in the Witches’ Grand Library. No way would they let a reject like her into their sanctum. “Mum, if your vision’s returned, your magic must have. Why can’t you just whisk the three of us out of here?”

And when did it become “the three of us”? Meena didn’t want to be half-Vampire. She didn’t even want to be a Witch, not if it cost her Leonidas.

Elizbetta’s rage drained from her, leaving a defeated expression. “Sorry, love, I’m still recovering from all that Fairy dust, and your father’s too weak to protect us. We’re stuck here until I’m back to full strength, unless you can think of something?”

Meena sniffed, disgusted by her seemingly endless tears. What happened to a stiff upper lip and all that? “You said I could work with animals now my power’s unbound. Maybe I could summon a tree snake and have it bring us some pitcher plant seeds. You grow them, Mum, and when the acid’s dissolved the bars, I’ll kill them. We just need to stay clear of any spills.”

The Vampire rattled his chains to get her attention, then spoke his first ever words to his daughter. “Proud of you, Meena.”

Why did he have to go say that? She wanted to hate him and tell him he’d had no right to reject her. But he was proud of her. Just like Leonidas had been before she learned she was a Witch. Now he wanted anyone but her, even the scrawny runaway. She’d have to starve herself to get as thin as her.

Meena realized she’d messed up even before she was born. Her presence in Elizbetta’s womb twisted her mother’s powers. Her father had been imprisoned because her mum’s foresight deserted her, then her poor Leonidas lived with an unbreakable curse. Then her father said he was proud of her. It didn’t make their situation better, but she stood a little taller.

She spoke directly to her father. “Thanks, Dad.”

He inclined his head toward her.

Maybe they could forge a relationship after all, but she had unresolved issues to deal with first. With a quick smile for her mother, she asked, “Can either of you tell me what’s going down with the Elves? Why us?”

Her mother answered for him. “Your father’s the only Vampire that makes others like him. Most Vampires are born, but only my Vlad can create them. The Elves want him to make them into Vampires so they don’t starve. That would make the rest of the otherworld their prey. He’s held out over for almost twenty-three years, and now that your familiar’s unbound your powers, you can get us out of here.”

Meena stared at the Vampire and tried to imagine growing up with him in her life. She and her mum had missed so much, but she had a thousand questions. Like how could he make Vampires? Only Vlad Dracul, the missing Vampire king, could do that. And sweet Hekate, her father had been missing for almost twenty-three years. No doubt about it, her father was the missing Vampire king. Great, that made her princess of a race Leonidas despised.

Before she could say anything, the dungeon door opened with a creak, and two Elves pulled Meena from her cell. “Mordred’s ordered you bathed and made ready, wench. Behave, and you might survive his attentions. Maybe afterward you could play with us too.”

Her father went crazy, rattling his chains and growling his anger. Her mother wept and pleaded, but Meena felt too numb to care. Leonidas allowed this—and that was unforgivable, no matter how much she’d hurt him. Besides, hadn’t he punished her enough? She couldn’t help being born a Witch, but he’d tossed her in the dungeons for it. And he bedded that scrawny runaway. Now he passed Meena off to his half brother—when her heart screamed she was his.

Chapter Twenty-Two

When Leonidas returned to the Great Hall, his eyes shone with clear-headed intelligence, and he’d scraped his hair back into its usual neat queue. Despite the alcohol, his powers had returned while he slept, and thanks to a healing spell, his hangover had vanished. Even his clothes looked laundered and pressed.

“The wonders of Fae magic. Just look at you, hangover banished and clothes bandbox neat. What a waste of power,” Mordred mocked.

Leonidas’s hand dropped to his rapier hilt. His eyes narrowed and his muscles tensed. His voice flowed around the hall like an arctic wind whistling over frozen wastes. “No games, Mordred. I need Meena and some answers. And I need them now.”

Mordred rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. A scribe rushed in, banged a huge leather-bound ledger down on the table, and scurried away.

Mordred pulled a letter from inside the covers “Read this. I’ve had a half dozen of them over the last few months, offering supplies in exchange for my pretending to head up the People’s Defense League. Of course, I accepted, but I did some digging in the archives too and turned up an interesting entry in this ledger.”

Leonidas inched his rapier from its sheath, giving his half brother a glimpse of the Fae-forged blade. “Meena first. She’s under my protection. If anyone’s hurt her, they’ll die.”

The laughter died from Mordred’s eyes. “She’s fine, bro. I promise. Now, facts first, sex later. All right? I’ve ordered a room and a bath prepared for your woman, so relax. We’ve got things to discuss. Then she’s all yours.”

Nothing mattered more than Meena, and Leonidas had so many apologies to make. He’d fall at her feet and beg if that was what it took for her to forgive him, but he needed to inspect every inch of her. If the Elves had so much as bruised her soft, creamy flesh, they’d die. Painfully.

He’d wait until she’d eaten and bathed, hear his half brother out, and maybe by then she’d be less angry. Usually he just crooked a finger, and women came running. He hadn’t a clue how to court Meena. He wished he’d been kinder, but his dick ruled his heart whenever the month’s end approached. Then he thought of Meena lounging naked in a sweet-smelling bath, and a half smile played about his lips. Whatever his half brother had to say, he’d better say it quick.