Authors: Anna Keraleigh
“Inform her about our existence?”
“She’s not…she’ll get it, understand. I’m sure of it. I once married
another lawyer and though she was against it, she stood by me anyway.” Long
before that, they were a team, keeping the bullies of their run down school at
bay. That girl, woman, was her everything. She cried on the plane over
thinking of finally living on the same continent as Morrigan. “Please
Carrick…”
He made a mental note to find and kick her ex-husband until he was
unconscious. The cruel things the man said to his future queen were a travesty.
“All right, sweet.” When he said anything she desired, he meant it.
****
for this long. Brook couldn’t help the happiness that seemed to radiate from
every pore of her body. She kissed Carrick when they woke and then watched
him walk naked to the balcony doors. Her fairy man had an ass she could
nibble for hours. He always seemed to leave her alone when her hormones
were ready to bust free.
“My queen…” Wick’s tone was somber as he entered the chamber.
She didn’t bother to cover up this time, well, not her breasts. She pulled
her pants on, going commando for the day and smiled. “Has a nice ring to it…”
She laughed and walked barefoot to where he stood. “Are you…okay with
this?”
“Of course.” His hand landed on her shoulder, shifted to cup her chin.
“You will make a fine queen and a wonderful mother.”
She’d pretty much had it with baby talk. His meaning was not lost
however. “Thank you, Wick.” She placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.
“Anytime, my Queen.”
She giggled at his words, it sounded beyond strange and hopefully time
would cure that bubbly feeling. “Are we going to my home today?”
“Indeed. Carrick is off with the trolls. They have decided to talk with us,
peace treaty of sorts.”
Her head perked up. “Is that safe? I mean, can we trust them?” She sure
as hell didn’t after that attack on the kingdom, and she hadn’t even met one yet.
“I would not trust them, but Carrick is well aware of their…character.
All the men have joined him. Mord and I will accompany you to your surface
home to gather your things.”
“…because I’m going to be queen.” She said the words with awe. Well
hell, queen was a big deal. Brook pulled her shirt on and turned to her escort.
She slipped past him to greet Mord and silently said the word once more.
Queen.
Butterflies were rampant in her stomach at the face she would be flying
with another fairy. Wick waited patiently as she literally shivered and faced
him. “I trust you…” She said with a smile that belied her words. Yes, she
trusted him, but enough to carry her into the sky without accidentally dropping
her, that would be a no.
“You’re sure you can hold me?” She wasn’t a salad eating, size four
girl. Brook had curves that men seemed fond of, and Wick would know. He
smirked at her as if he could hear her thoughts.
“Just hold tight…”
His arms wrapped around her, his muscle more pronounced than
Carrick’s, and she held tightly to the boulder with wings. Wick jet into the air.
No verbal warning and no spreading his wings so she could prepare for takeoff.
He simply grabbed her and flew. Talk about a nervous breakdown. She kept
her eyes closed, fought the queasy surge as Wick rushed them to the surface.
When her feet landed, she glanced at Mord. Was he the one laughing at her?
She distinctly heard male laughter. “No offense, but you suck at flying.”
Wick grinned and leaned close to whisper in her ear, “You like me
better inside you?”
Brook wanted to laugh as she hit him upside the head, but what he said
was true. “Absolutely.” The moment the word left her mouth, he clasped her
body to his and surged into the gorgeous sky. Her hands circled around his
neck and her legs wrapped around one of his. He slid narrowly between trees.
Branches slapped at her body and when he stopped fluttering his wings, she
screamed like a little girl. Damn straight, she did, the whole female heroine in
distress left her lips, and his wings finally brought them to a hover just above
the ground.
“We keep the girly screams to ourselves.” She had never screamed so
loud or high pitched in her life and was ashamed at her lack of courage. Then
gladly dropped the few inches to solid ground. Decorum was long gone after
that ride. Thankfully, Mord was not around to threaten. He landed a few
moments later, a big grin on his face. Brook snorted then turned to see her
lovely house. She hadn’t even unpacked boxes. The windows were still dusty,
the walkway cracked and the roses rampant over the old brick exterior. She
loved the classical beauty of the place and was a little sad she never had time
to call it home.
Woods surrounded the entire place and an old farmer named Fred lived
a few miles down the road. He had sheep and cows that constantly came to
visit during her short time here. The white picket fence she’d installed didn’t
squeak as she opened the gate, she almost wish it had. In the movies, the gates
made a rusty, hideous noise, and it always reminded her of a good home. There
were few memories here, nothing substantial that would stand the test of time.
Even the grass was long. She never did get a chance to cut it.
The fairy warriors were on her heels as she placed her hand on the
doorknob, took a deep breath, and entered the house for the last time.
Agreeing to meet with the trolls was a bad idea. Carrick knew the truth
even if everyone decided to re-inform him. It was obviously the worst plan that
they could agree to, but if there was even a small chance at peace, he would
attempt it. They wanted to convene on the shore, which bode unwell to their
meeting. It was a known fact fairies couldn’t swim. Why in Goddess’ name
would the trolls want to talk peace there? As Thame had said, it would be a
perfect spot for an ambush. His warriors accompanied Brook. Whisper was in
the shadows somewhere around here.
The others were assembled, Flance and Bray stayed behind to protect
the land. Carrick led Thame and Keyn into the sky. Treetops rushed by, a small
stream with a deer watched them pass, and they aimed for the shore.
Waves crashed on the sandy beach while birds flocked for food at the
surface. The sun glared harshly across the waters and two dark figures huddled
in the shadow of a hill. This was it, peace or war. Thame passed him, landed
before the trolls with his head lowered. He looked animalistic with his eyes
narrowed and his teeth bared. But they already had Whisper for that. Carrick
touched down the same time as Keyn. All were aware of their surroundings
and the tension that cut through the settings natural loveliness.
“King of the fairies,” one troll spoke and actually took a bow. “I am
Clar’nock of the trolls.”
Carrick kept his hand on his sword but nodded all the same. “It is a
pleasure to meet you.” There would be no human handshake or even a
customary fairy forehead touch. Hell no, he wasn’t getting that close to the
sneaky bastards. “Peace is a great reason to put aside our differences. Where is
you king?”
“He’ll be here soon.” The shorter of the two spoke.
This was already looking like a trap, why would their king not arrive on
time? His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. He briefly saw a shadow to
the right. Whisper had arrived.
“The bigger question…” A voice startled them all. “Why were there
seven trolls waiting in a nearby cave with swords?” Whisper asked without
revealing his location.
The trolls seemed to turn a shade of red; the shorter one looked to the
other. “No waiting, you bring weapons not us.” They both threw their empty
hands into the air. Shorty, as Carrick dubbed him, searched the forest around
them with his eyes. Was he searching for a sign or his lost, probably dead
men? He took the time to listen for any disturbance in the proximity. There
was nothing, but his men would not lie.
The troll screeched and screamed attack. It was now that his fellow
cowardly kin were supposed to burst from the trees.
However, they did not count on Whisper. When he yelled for his
buddies, a decapitated head rolled toward them, blood seeped from a torn area
of neck flesh when the nose smashed into a rock. “There’s your
reinforcements.” Carrick returned his own knife. It buried into the taller ones
thigh as Whisper flew from his cover and slit Shorty’s throat. He was a deadly
blur of wings and blue hair, and then the taller one fell to the ground. It
grabbed his throat, tried to collect the stream of blood that would stain the dirt
until the next rainstorm. “So much for questioning,” Carrick murmured as
Whisper returned to the forest around them.
“They would have lied anyway.” Thame had little faith in these things.
“We were right. Trap.”
“Why?” He turned away. After all this time, did the trolls think the
fairies were stupid enough to fall for such a lame attempt? His lips parted as he
gasped and his eyes widened in revelation. There was only one important thing
happening today, only one reason the trolls would lure them out here.
“Brook…”
****
note to call the realtor; she was going to be happy with all the commission.
What did she need? Really, if she just stood here and thought about it,
what items couldn’t she part with? Brook stepped the lone torn box on the desk.
This was it. Photos, memories she would always carry with her. Her camera
lay atop, and she smiled. She couldn’t wait to add to her collection, to
document her new life, to really smile for the camera with Carrick in her arms.
She closed her eyes. This was the right choice.
She never really liked being a lawyer anyway. The clothes sucked.
Now she could be naked all day, which was always a bonus. “I think this is
it…” She threw her contact book in the box, gathered it in her arms and headed
toward her men. Her men, what a beautiful saying.
“Run!” Wick screamed the word, shoved her screen door open with
enough blood running down his face to cause her to freeze in panic. “Brook,
run! Trolls!” He turned, raised his sword, and she took off at a sprint.
She hadn’t even waited to finally catch a glimpse of a troll. It had to be
them. What else would be chasing her? Steps blurred as she hauled her butt
through the kitchen and jerked the back door open. She had to get to Carrick,
warn him and get help for the others. Her pulse raced as her feet sunk in the
soft grass. Brook headed straight for that horizon with her lungs beginning to
burn and her head aching. She would not stop. It was a silent vow. A
determination she would not falter.
The sun was setting, and she ran toward the failing light. She could
hear screeches, prayed it was her fairies doing the killing and kept going. She
would not last long, but hopefully, long enough to find that willow tree and
Carrick. Land stretched behind her, she shot through the field of long grass that
stretched her property. Keep going. She had to keep running. Although by now,
her run was more of a jog, but she wouldn’t slow anymore. There was no time
to catch her breath; she had to get more fairies. There was that noise again, a
screech.
“Fuck…” It was much closer. She angled her path, aimed for the line of
trees dense enough to hide her. The last thing she needed was to be captured.
Of course, the ache that started in her side seriously slowed her down.
The trees added to her lack of sight as daylight dwindled. Another high-
pitched screech, she finally reached the shade of the trees. Running further
inland and stopping behind a huge oak. She bent as her side ached fiercely. Her
gasping was so damn loud she couldn’t hear anything else, and her head
thumped along with her pulse.
“Carrick…” she whispered his name, looked around and took a few
steps. She was almost there. Another few minutes and she would see the tree,
another ten to get beneath it. It didn’t matter that she was ready to collapse
from exhaustion or fear. The adrenaline was still pumping; she would use that
to her advantage. Brook grabbed her painful side, squeezed as she picked up
her speed. She loathed jogging.
Brook skidded to a stop. Holding her breath as the sounds of feet
crunching debris came closer. She would make it. She would make it.
Grinding her teeth, she took off again. She kicked hard against the
ground and charged past trees. She would make it; she screamed the words in
her head. Created a mantra and burst from the woods. Over the hill, she just
had to get over a green hill. Her fingers dug into cool dirt, some nails broke
under the strain as her heels pressed firmly against anything for leverage.
When the tree roots thinned out, she used sheer determination. She dug deeper
with her fingers, her breath erratic while she pulled herself higher. This was
not a damn hill. It was a fucking mountain. Higher, further, she could do this.
A warm hand wrapped around her ankle. It tugged as she glanced