I asked my father and Arthur to unchain the fae and set him free. They removed the silver chains, but they wouldn't let him go until the information he gave us proved true.
We left Irene, Charles and Marianno behind. Arthur wanted someone from our side with the man until we returned from hunting down sir Nicholas Doyle.
My father, Arthur and I took a car. I was glad I didn't have to ride a horse in my current condition. I wasn't back to one hundred percent. The bubbling frustration and thirst lurked in the back of my mind, the beast of insanity rearing its ugly head.
My father drove the SUV like he was on a mission. Noah sat next to him.
"Who is this Nicholas Doyle?" I asked my father.
"He's one of the nobles in my brother's pockets."
"What does that mean?"
It was Arthur who replied. "For any fae laws to pass, they must be presented in the House of Nobility where a vote must take place. If the king wants to pass a certain law, he must guarantee the votes of the majority.
"When Orion was king, his mere power enforced his rule. The nobles didn't dare play games with the laws and did their duty. But when Rion rose to the throne, things changed. His power was great, but it wasn't enough to keep the nobles in check. Especially since many thought him too weak to hold the throne. He pacified them by giving them more power over the ruling of Ireland through the House of Nobility. They voted for the laws he wanted implemented, in exchange for perks only the king can grant."
My father shot Arthur a glance in the rearview mirror. "You're rather well versed in our politics."
Arthur's response was a smile.
My father sighed, turning down the dirt road to a paved one. The wheels rolled smoothly. "You make it seem as if the nobles were saints before I abdicated the throne. They weren't. They always tried to play political games and bend the laws to their favors, but I kept it to a bearable minimum. My brother..." he shook his head. "My brother needed to establish his rule quickly and efficiently, it was my fault for abdicating so abruptly. He did the best he could, but the nobles still found ways to hold power over him using the votes."
"How did you keep the nobles in line?" I asked my father.
He shrugged. "I made a lesson out of the first few who tried to manipulate me when I first rose to power, and the rest fell in line."
Right. And here I was expecting he had used some sort of savvy political subterfuge. I shook my head, looking out the window at the passing trees. Immortals respected strength above all else.
"I'm surprised you came yourself, Father," I said. "Don't you have lackeys who'll obey your royal orders."
He chuckled. "You sound so much like your mother right now."
My chest warmed at the words.
"It's been a while since I had gotten my hands dirty," he continued, unaware of the impact of his words. "Nothing had made me want to. Until now."
A small smile tipped my lips. Now I had two blood thirsty, overprotective men in my life. The thought should have annoyed me. It didn't. At least, not entirely, since I knew that I could hold my own against the two of them to keep them from getting carried away.
"So, you have me wrapped around your little finger."
Arthur's low murmur made me look at him. I bit back a smile and showed him his ring on my finger. "Don't I?"
Mirth warmed his eyes, giving the bond a short reprieve from the darkness. "You do."
Then I noticed my nails.
I always kept the tips trimmed and blunt. Now, however, they looked longer and sharper. A lot sharper. I flexed my fingers, dread settling like a heavy rock in my stomach. As I watched, the nails grew sharper and curvier.
Claws. I was growing claws.
My wide eyes met Arthur's. He showed me his own hands. His trim nails grew and curved. They were much longer and scarier than mine.
"The venom?" I whispered. Was I getting another step closer to the monster within?
"Maybe. Or maybe it just expedited the change that would have happened with time."
I stared at my claws. I'd known vampires grew fangs and claws. I had my fangs when the spell broke, and now I had claws. I didn't know how to feel about it. I focused on my fingers and the claws slowly retreated.
Would there be any more changes? Would I even recognize myself in a few decades?
I leaned my head on Arthur's shoulder and closed my eyes. The venom's effects were still there, but Arthur's proximity quieted down the insanity. Arthur put his hand on my knee and kept it there until my father stopped the car.
We parked by the side of the road.
"Doyle's mansion is about a ten minute walk deep in the woods," my father said. "There's a road that leads there, but I don't want to risk him fleeing if his guards alert him of our presence."
Noah and Arthur's steps were quiet, even my father managed a silent tread. I had more difficulty focusing on the walk. My stomach had begun churning since we left the car and the burn in my throat increased. We walked for five minutes before Noah spoke.
"Two guards."
"I'll handle them," my father said. He narrowed his eyes. His magic slithered forward, under the ground. A quiet snake.
My father's eyes grew bright, the green glowing like lit up emeralds. After a few minutes, he nodded. "Done."
Then we moved forward. A couple of times Noah stopped us again before we came in contact with more guards, and my father took care of them. His eyes were eager and bright, more alive than I'd ever seen them before.
The mansion soon came to view between the trees.
"Where are the guards?" I asked my father.
"Taking a nap under the ground," he replied.
Arthur and my father continued past the tree line. They were no longer worried about being unseen. We were close enough to the sprawling white mansion to give chase if the bastard tried to flee.
Our steps no longer quiet, we walked through the green front yard then onto the paved paths. Two guards who stood at the door exchanged a look, but my father's presence stopped them from reaching for their weapons.
One of them abandoned his post and rushed down the steps. He bowed his head, watching as we closed the distance between us. "Your highness? Should I alert the lord-"
Arthur's magic flared. The fae was pushed back, hurled through the air until he collided with his colleague. They remained plastered to the wall. We went up the steps. The two men's faces were red, their mouths gaping like fish out of the water.
"Is he in?" My father asked.
Arthur lessened the pressure on their throats so they could barely whisper. "Yes."
I could feel every small use of Arthur's magic through the bond.
"Is there a backdoor?" Noah asked.
Another strangled whisper. "Yes."
Arthur nodded at Noah. The werewolf slinked around the mansion.
"Don't kill them," I told Arthur when he advanced on the two fae. He raised his eyebrow. "We don't know if they're involved."
He sighed, let the two fae drop, and crouched in front of them. "Stay here. Do not move. Do not speak. Or I will be very, very displeased."
He spoke with a low, soft voice. One would think he was whispering sweet nothings to his lover. Except the threat in his voice was unmistakable. The two guards nodded.
My father pushed the door open with a bang and strode in. The glittering white walls and floors looked cold and empty despite the abundance of expensive furniture and extravagant decor.
I put my hand on my sword and pulled my magic right under my skin. A door opened to a hallway leading to the back of the house. A man was slowly backing up from the hallway, his back to us. His black hair brushed the silky robe he wore over dark pajama pants.
"Doyle," my father drawled. The man jumped and turned. His light irises were nothing but a ring around dilated pupils. His eyes flitted between us and someone in the other end of that hallway. Whatever was in there drove him out until he stood in the middle of the massive hall. He bumped into the back of a couch and froze there.
Noah stalked out of that door, his amber eyes on fire. He looked every bit the wolf that he was.
"Y-your highness! What is the meaning of this?" Doyle finally found his voice.
My dad marched up to him. Without breaking his stride, he grabbed Doyle by the throat to one of the armchairs and pushed him down. Doyle rubbed his throat, his wide eyes indignant. Finally, his gaze settled on Arthur. Arthur didn't move from my side, but Doyle's face lost any remaining color. He looked close to passing out.
I really wished he wouldn't faint before we got information out of him.
"Where's the child?" my father asked.
Doyle faced my father, lifting his chin. "The king will not be pleased-"
Crack. I winced. My father could throw a mean punch. Doyle cradled his broken nose, crying out.
A flicker of movement on my left. I whirled around. A female fae stood in a doorway, her wide eyes flickering with fear. By her black dress and white apron, I gathered she must be a maid. She took a step back.
"No," Arthur said.
She froze.
"The child, Doyle," my father said.
Doyle glared at my father, his eyes tearing up from the pain. "I don't know what you're-"
Another punch. I raised my brows. I honestly did not think my father had it in him, and from the bond, Arthur didn't either.
Doyle's moans filled the high-ceilinged hall. My father pulled back his arm for another punch, but before it could connect, Doyle raised his arms over his face and spoke in a rush, tripping over his words. "In the basement! She's in the basement!"
I moved toward the maid. She stiffened, her eyes wide. "Basement?" I asked.
She gave a jerky nod and led the way down to the back of the house, through a long hallway and down a flight of stairs. The maid unlocked a door and we entered a dingy room with dirty white walls and tile flooring. A bed pushed against the wall, underneath the only point of light in the room; a tiny window at the very top of the wall.
On the bed was a slip of a girl. She couldn't be over five years old. Dressed in a frilly dress the color of daffodils, she cowered on the bed. Her straight dark bang hiding her eyes.
I scanned her body for injuries as the maid approached her. She patted her head. The child didn't look afraid of the woman.
"She's okay?" I asked, approaching the bed slowly.
"Yes, milady," the maid replied.
"No one hurt her?"
"No, milady. I'm the only one who comes down here."
Her accent was a thick Irish that reminded me of uncle Robert. The child sat close to the maid, snuggling up to her side.
"Why didn't you help her?" I asked, because I could see she felt bad for the little girl.
The maid frowned, her eyes heavy with guilt. "I've children of me own, milady. The master is..."
"A cruel bastard," I finished.
"He's a powerful man. A friend of the king," she whispered, her eyes flickering to the door as if afraid someone would overhear. "I couldn't possibly go against him."
I sighed. Then smiled at the child. "Do you want to go see your daddy?"
The child looked between me and the maid, then gave a small nod. The woman carried her upstairs. I paused at the doorway, hearing Doyle's pained moans.
"She doesn't need to see this," I told the maid. "Why don't you take her somewhere else? Grab a bite or something."
The maid breathed in relief. "Yes, milady. We'll be in the kitchen."
She hesitated.
"What is it?"
She licked her lips and swallowed. "The master... will he be punished?"
"Yes. Why?"
Her shoulders rounded. "He'd be furious with us, his servants."
The more I found out about Doyle, the more I disliked him. "Don't worry. He probably won't be back anytime soon."
Knowing Arthur, that was the least of it. I left the maid and the child in the kitchen and went back to join the party.
Noah leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and his scarred face set in sharp lines.
Arthur and my father sat on the couch, their postures relaxed. Doyle was still stuck to the armchair, cradling his face. He should set his nose before it healed wrong.
Their gazes swung to me.
"The girl is fine."
I perched on the arm of the couch, next to Arthur.
"Good." Arthur leaned forward. "Now, let us begin, Mr. Doyle. Why did you order the waiter to poison my mate?"
Doyle removed his hand from his face. Blood trickled down his nose to his chin. The smell of the blood pushed the burn in my throat to the forefront of my mind.
"I have no idea what you are referring to," the idiot said. "Whatever the waiter said, he is obviously lying."
Arthur sighed. His magic shot forward, and a sickly crunch filled the air. Doyle screamed, staring at his right hand through pain-widened eyes. His pinky finger was bent backwards. He sucked in a loud, gasping breath and looked at Arthur, rage burning in his eyes.
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," my father warned. The whisper of Doyle's magic died down.
Arthur lounged back, his hand on the back of the couch inches from my hair. "Well?"
Doyle set his jaw. The silence was tense. Arthur sighed, and the soft sound leaked the last vestiges of stubbornness from Doyle's face.
"I did what should have been done the moment she appeared." The way he spat out the word, one would think I killed his mother. "But she's just too bloody stubborn to die."
"Because of my blood?" I asked.
He looked at me like I was gum stuck to his favorite boots. "Your blood is enough reason, but then you had to go and mate with... one of the Five. Do you know what that means?" He turned to my father. "You must know, and yet you let her live, let her come here and strut around like she was truly a princess and not some sick, tainted monster that needs to be put down."
"Well, get it off of your chest. Don't mind me." I mumbled. He didn't hear.
"She's the rightful heir to the throne. The day she claims the throne, her mate will be beside her." He wasn't brave enough to look at Arthur. "The fae have claimed this land as their own since the beginning of our time, it's the only place on earth that does not fall under the dominion of the Five. All of that will change once she rises to power with him by her side. We will no longer be free of the Five's involvement. We will no longer be able to do as we please on our own land."
Huh. He gave this some thought, didn't he? "I have no intention of claiming the throne."
His lips curled in disgust. "Only an idiot would say no to power."
I guess I'm a raging fool, then.