Prince by Blood and Bone: A Fantasy Romance of the Black Court (Tales of the Black Court) (3 page)

“It’s worse than before. Nothing is happening, but we’re going to be stuck cleaning up this gunk.” Kian eyed the pile morosely and mourned his blond vision. “I’m going to bed.” He turned his back on the mess. Beezel and the hobgoblins would clean it up. He trudged toward the door.

He was never getting out of here. His mother would let him rot until he died.

Beezel grunted. “Sire!”

Kian spun around.

The mass quivered and shook. It began to emit a low whine, the pink gelatin texture reflecting the lantern light on its now shiny surface. The shaking increased. The floor vibrated. Beezel ducked under the table and hung onto a leg, but Kian couldn’t take his eyes off of his creation.

The whine increased in pitch. Kian covered his still pointed ears, crouching in pain as the pink glob exploded in a burst of light. Twinkling sludge spattered everywhere, on the table, on the book, in Kian’s face.

He wiped off the gunk and stared at the tangle of long limbs and golden hair.

Beezel’s mouth fell open. “Sire, what have you done?”

CHAPTER TWO

Bryanna opened her eyes. Her head ached. Something wasn’t right. The strange room was dark, its shadows lit only by a distant, flickering glow. The heavy damp air made her bare arms cold and, instead of holding on to the familiar warmth of her mother and sister, she was alone.

She pushed her hair out of her face and blinked, trying to focus her bleary vision. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the low light. She lay on a long, narrow sofa with a high back, upholstered in some dark, slippery fabric that stank of rot.

Repressing a cough, she leaned up on her elbows to peek over the single, curved arm of the sofa. Out of the side of her eye, she caught a movement. She whipped her head around, pain throbbing deep into her nerves as something white tittered, and flew into the shadows.

Resisting the urge to hold on to her aching head and curl back up into a ball, she leaned over the side of the narrow sofa and peered into the ill-lit corner. But whatever had been there was gone.

The familiar scent of pine smoke cleared the mold from her nose. She blinked, and realized that the flickering firelight came from across a room the size of a banquet hall. There was no sign of her mother, or Cassie, or anything familiar. Her skin prickled cold with unease.

Swallowing past the dryness in her throat, she braced her hands and eased up to sitting, letting her bare feet skim the icy, stone floor. Her vision swam, and she swayed on her perch. This must be how Cassie felt after a bad migraine. No wonder her sister just wanted to stay in bed for days after a vision. But there was no bed here and no respite for the weary.

She used her technique of pushing pain from her head and out her upper chakras. The pounding in her head reduced, giving her vision a chance to clear up. This side of the room contained nothing but shadowed, empty stone corners and the old-fashioned fainting couch she sat on. Across the bare expanse of stone floor, a huge marble fireplace dominated the opposite wall. In front of the fireplace, blocking most of the light and heat of the leaping flames, sat a large misshapen silhouette.

Something slithered and scratched the floor behind her. Bryanna jumped, nearly slipping off the smooth surface of the couch. Her heart pounded hard, blood rushing and pulsing in her ears. She looked away from the fire, and its ominous shape, and searched the dark corner. But she couldn’t make out anything hiding in the shadows where the bare stone floor met the rough-cut walls. She turned back around to face the fire.

Inches away from her face, something ghostly white, the size of a small child, smirked at her.

Cold grave breath skimmed her cheeks. She screamed, scrambling to her feet and balancing precariously on the slick fabric of the sofa. The sound ricocheted off the walls, bouncing back to pierce her aching head before echoing off into the silence. Slick, rubbery lips curved up into a grotesque, gleeful grin.

Balanced on the couch, she gripped the narrow wooden rim of the upholstered back and braced her feet on the slippery seat. The thing shrieked, leering close to her face, its breath raising goose bumps on her bare legs and arms. She shrieked back, and it pulled its thick lips wide, giving her a good look into the black maw of its mouth.

Across the room, the contorted figure leapt out of the chair and lumbered toward them, growing larger and darker until it towered over her and the creature.

Her scream died burbling in her throat.

The white thing wailed, dropped low, and slunk under the couch, and Bryanna huddled as far away as she could. The huge, cloaked figure leaned down and roared, the enormous sound shaking the couch. A flood of the hideous, white, malleable things flowed from under her, shrieking as they fled.

Bryanna’s feet slid. She struggled to keep her perch. The things pressed against the seams of the rock walls, shrinking and disappearing into impossibly small cracks and leaving an empty silence filled only by the sound of Bryanna, gasping for breath.

A log fell in the fireplace, the pop and crackle of the embers sounded loud.

“I’m sorry. They’re out of control.” The dark figure’s low, rumbling voice sounded upscale, his accent reminiscent of Scotland, or Wales, or somewhere she’d never even heard of. It was strangely reassuring, as if it were an everyday occurrence to be threatened by creatures out of a Japanese horror film and comforted by a shadow.

“What were those?” Bryanna leaned in to get a look, but the firelight was behind him, and she couldn’t see much beyond his enormous size.

“Hobgoblins. Nasty, infiltrating buggers.”

From under his cloak rose a delicious, warm, musky scent. The smell reminded her of gingerbread, cozy fires, and a cabin they’d stayed in when she was small. Despite his contorted shape and immense size, she relaxed. “Hobgoblins,” she said. “I’ve heard of them, but never seen one before.” Never seen one before because lore said they didn’t exist outside of Underhill. If they were here, she wasn’t anywhere close to New Mexico. “Where am I?” she asked.

“This is Cairngloss, abandoned palace of the Galentian Gnomes and my current place of residence.” He swept into a low bow, coming up with a wide sweep of his arm under his cloak. “Welcome to my home.”

She ignored the sarcastic cut that lay under the word home. “Cairngloss? Where is that?”

“It used to be the northern-most tip of the country of Walst and the domain of the Gnomes, but all but a few hardy folk left when the White Queen moved in.”

“The White Queen? I’ve never heard of a White Queen. Do you mean the Queen of the Fae?” Had she landed in Underhill, the middle of enemy territory?

His dry laugh echoed in the near-empty room. “Wherever did you come from that you know so little?”

She flushed, grateful for the distance of the firelight that masked her embarrassment. “This is Underhill, isn’t it?” She hoped he didn’t notice the slight quaver in her voice. If she was Underhill, then she was in big trouble. She only hoped her mother and sister had ended up nearby. If the queen’s minions found any of them alone, it would be bad. Without Trina, they’d lost their best defense against the vindictive queen.

“Yes, we’re Underhill. I’ve answered your questions, answer one in return. What’s your name, my lovely?”

She hesitated. Her mother had always cautioned about giving too much information to the fae, and she couldn’t even see this man’s face. If he was a man. She had only the warm sound of his voice to go by, and now she knew she was Underhill, where magic and the evil queen reigned.

“Show me your face,” she demanded and reached for the edge of his cloak.

He moved fast, the dark fabric billowing out around him, creating the illusion he’d grown even larger than his already towering height. “You’re in no place to make demands,” he hissed.

Danger was suddenly back in the room and her heartbeat drummed in her ears. She shrank against the couch’s slippery back. Gathering her scant courage, she spoke, “I’ve no idea who or what you are. Why should I tell you my name?”

“You ask many questions for one who is at my mercy.” From under the cloak his breathing sounded fast and hard, and her dry tongue and throat convulsed as she tried to swallow.

She shivered and rubbed her hands up and down the prickling hair on her forearms. “My name is Bryanna.” And, because she needed something to defend herself in this cold, threatening place, she tilted her chin up and asked, “And yours?”

“Ha!” The hunched mass that she thought was his shoulders quaked, and his voice turned amused. “Cheeky, that’s what you are.”

Across the room, a door tucked into a hidden corner swung wide and banged against the wall.

“Your Highness!” Small and pasty, at first glance, she could have mistaken the creature for a slim, seven-year-old. Thin bandy legs moved fast under a loose, belted tunic, propelling him across the room and over to their location. His round, protruding eyes were a pale grey, so pale as to be almost clear, and his nostrils seemed to be nothing more than slits on his rather flat face. “Sire, her room is ready.”

Bryanna eyed the cloaked figure. “Are you a king?”

His empty laugh boomed off the walls of the wide room. At his feet, the misshapen forms of the hobgoblins shuddered. She hadn’t even noticed them creeping back. All her attention had been riveted to the dark figure leaning over her.

“Did you hear that, Beezel? She thinks I’m a king!” His cutting laughter echoed out, and the slight form of his servant hunched over, seemingly afraid to move.

He straightened, and his shadow on the back wall of the room elongated. For a moment, it formed an illusion of the lean, elegant silhouette of a man. Bryanna blinked, and the shadow reformed into a dark blob more reflective of his massive shape.

“See my kingdom.” He swept his arm wide, his voice ringing out into the large crumbling hall. “See my subjects.” He swept it low. Puddles of rubbery, white hobgoblins cowered at his feet.

“I am a king, lovely Bryanna. I am, Kian, King of the Goblins.” His mocking laugh rose, growing louder and louder until Bryanna cringed at the hysteria under the broken, golden sound.

He lowered his arm and paused. Bryanna held her breath.

Suddenly, he dropped low, his cloak wafted out, and his head nearly touched the floor. “Boo!” he shouted.

The quivering mass of goblins flew away, their terrorized shrieks bouncing off the stone walls. He rose. Bryanna huddled on the couch wondering if she’d fallen into the den of a crazy man.

“Foolish girl,” he said, his voice dropping to nearly normal with only a slight edge that sliced at Bryanna’s nerves. He held up his arms, spreading the black fabric of his cloak wide and shutting out the light until his dark silhouette was all she could see. “See this cloak?” He shook the material. “Do you know why I wear it?”

She stayed silent.

“It hides my disfigurement, a curse put on me by the Black Queen herself. You asked me to show my face, but I refuse. I’ll not have a woman as young and lovely as you flinching from my presence.” He sighed. And for a moment, she relaxed as he dropped his arms and the light reached her face.

“No, I’m not a king,” he said in a voice so quiet she strained to hear. “Not here. Not now.”

The weight of his bitter words hung in the air. Bryanna held still, listening to the thump and sizzle of a log shifting in the fireplace. She didn’t know where she was, but she had the strong feeling of falling into something she didn’t understand. And wasn’t sure she could escape.

“Beezel will show you to your room.” Her host’s voice lifted again, as if his outburst had never happened. “We’re not used to guests.” He gestured around the empty room at the moldy couch and solitary chair. “As you can see, living in an abandoned warren isn’t the most comfortable of homes, even if this was once a palace. If it’s not to your liking, let Beezel know, and he’ll prepare another. You’re going to be here a long time, and you’ll want to be comfortable.

Bryanna took a deep breath. “Thank you for your offer, but I won’t be staying. I’m needed elsewhere.”

“You’re needed here.” He turned and began his shuffling progress back to the chair across the room.

Bryanna stepped down off of the couch, the stone floor cold on her bare feet, and followed him. “No, I’m not staying. I’m leaving. Now.” She had no idea what time it was or where she was, but she needed to claim some power, any power, before she lost herself in this upside down world.

He stopped. His shoulders rose, and she froze. She could sense his surprise by the way he turned and cocked his head under the hood. “Oh my dear, of course you’ll be staying.” His casual words bit at her with their sharp message. “Do you think I brought you here only to let you go?”

Bryanna’s chest caught. She pulled air in and forced words out past the constriction. “You brought me here?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “And now that I have you, I’m certainly not letting you go.” He turned away.

She lunged forward, stopped short of grabbing his cloak with her fingertips by only a few centimeters. “My mother and sister need me. I’m the only one who can help Cassie take the edge off her headaches.”