A few broken fingers later, Doyle gave us the name of the vampire from whom he bought the venom. It was one of the castle guards.
Arthur then knocked the bastard out, and we stuffed him in the trunk of the SUV, bound, blindfolded and gagged.
We left the maid and the guards in the mansion, with orders from my father to wait for further instructions from the castle. The little girl, Ciara, was reluctant to leave the maid's side. We found a bar of chocolate in the kitchen and bribed her with it into my arms.
She clung to me with her little arms. So fragile and light, one small hand clutching the chocolate and the other the back of my shirt. Children were so vulnerable. I looked at her innocent dark eyes. Had I ever been this small, this innocent?
I had always held a weapon, even in my earliest memories. My childhood had been a blur of fight and survival training. I never really got to play with toys, never got to wear frilly dresses and bright colored shirts.
I didn't blame uncle Robert. He had done the best he could with me, considering the circumstances. But I found myself yearning for the person I might have been had I been raised in my parents' arms.
As soon as the feeling blossomed in my chest, it fizzled out of existence. That would not have been me. I couldn't reconcile the image of a princess raised to be a proper royal with the person I was today. I didn't know if I could have tolerated it, being stuffed into a role where expectations and propriety mattered more than anything.
I may be a product of a twisted past, christened in blood and death, but looking at Arthur's hand on my own, feeling the bond stretch and hum between us, strong and immovable, I wouldn't have it any other way.
Ciara shifted in my lap as the car skidded to a stop. We spilled out of the car.
"Ciara!" The waiter called, running down the steps from Charles' side.
"Papa," Ciara whispered, squirming in my arms. I set her down and she ran up to her father. The sight made the entire ordeal worth it.
Arthur put his arm over my shoulder. "What a heartwarming sight."
There was a wistfulness to his voice. The bond whined with longing. I linked our hands on my shoulder. "Yep. It makes the whole ordeal of coming to Europe worth it."
"The only thing that will make this morning better is a little bit of torturing, don't you think?"
I snorted and jabbed my elbow in his side, smiling at the roguish look in his eyes. Naoh stopped beside us. "Very busy, this afternoon."
The courtyard was full of fae. News of the poisoning must have spread, and people came to see the spectacle themselves.
My father joined us as we went up the steps.
"People came to see the vampire-fae breed lose her mind," I mumbled.
"Good," my father said, his eyes dangerous. "A great opportunity to send a message."
He barked orders to a few guards nearby. They moved to the car and pulled a groaning Doyle out.
The waiter's eyes shone when we reached him. He bowed his head deeply my way. "Thank you."
I shifted on my feet. He looked at my father, his daughter still in his arms. "I'm ready for my punishment, your highness."
"What punishment?" I asked, looking between him and Orion. The latter raised a brow at me.
"The fact remains that he was the one who fed you the poison."
"Yes, but it was under duress," I said with a frown. "You can't possibly punish him for it."
Orion shook his head. It was Arthur who replied. "Punishment must be dished out."
Ugh. Frustration bubbled up, on the edge of turning into anger. I threw my hands up. "Fine! But I'll be the one to dish out his punishment."
Arthur raised his brows while my father looked doubtful. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"I'm the victim," I said.
Orion relented after a deep sigh. "Very well."
I turned to the waiter. "Why don't you take a day off and be with your family, today. The punishment will hold until tomorrow."
He glanced at my father, who nodded, before bowing to me again.
"I really wish they'd stop with all the bowing," I mumbled, resuming our march to the castle.
Down in the dungeons, Doyle now occupied the waiter's chair, still bound. One of the guards emptied a syringe in Doyle's neck. The veins turned black for a second. Silver.
Marianno removed the blindfold and worked his magic on the sweating fae. It was only my father, Arthur and I inside the cell. Noah, Irene and Charles waited with the guards outside.
Arthur was looking at me. I glanced at him. "What?"
He shook his head. Marianno turned to us, rubbing his forehead. His quick glance at my father didn't go unnoticed by me.
"He's telling the truth. He planned this a few days ago when he knew we'd be coming to Ireland."
"Does he have anything to do with yesterday's mercenary attack?" I asked.
Marianno shook his head. "I couldn't find any links. But again, the fae are very mentally resilient. He could be hiding it."
Arthur nodded to Marianno. The vampire left. Arthur pushed off the wall, his movements slow and deliberate. The bond thrummed with the promise of dark violence. His anger had been simmering just under the surface. No one could tell from the relaxed set of his shoulders and the bland expression on his face that he was absolutely livid. His control was terrifying.
He ripped the blindfold off Doyle and moved behind him. The fae blinked, his face wet from transpiration. His eyes were wide and his body tense to the point of breaking, no doubt realizing a predator was behind him.
Arthur looked at me. "You should leave."
I just returned his gaze. Understanding that he didn't want me to see this part of him, but needing to see it nonetheless. Arthur acquiesced with a nod.
"Yesterday we were attacked by mercenaries on our way to the castle," Arthur said. His low voice made my stomach flip. Doyle swallowed. "Do you happen to know anything about the matter?"
Doyle's lips trembled. "I-I don't know anything about it."
"Really?" Arthur drawled. Doyle jumped when Arthur's hand touched his shoulder. "I found it interesting how you said that Elle was too stubborn to die. As if you've tried before and it didn't work."
Doyle's next breath rattled his chest. He was on the verge of hysteria. He must be really scared of Arthur.
Arthur hadn't even touched him yet. Doyle looked at me. "P-please! Please, forgive me-"
Arthur grabbed his hair and pulled his head backward.
"Don't talk to her. Don't look at her. Don't even think about her." Arthur jerked the man's head back until his throat looked about ready to snap. "Understood?"
"Yes. Yes!"
Arthur dropped the man's head none too gently and stalked around to stand in front of him. I'd never seen this side of Arthur before. He'd fought in front of me, of course. I knew he could be brutal. But torturing someone was entirely different to a fair fight. Although, with Arthur, no fight could be fair.
He crouched in front of Doyle. "Now, answer the question. Did you have something to do with the attack?"
Doyle's eyes flickered to me. A mistake.
The candle trembled under the force of his screams. His eye sockets caved in, driven inward by an invisible force. Two holes replaced his eyes, filled with a bloody mesh of skin and bone and a white substance I didn't dare dwell on.
I had thought there was nothing left in my stomach after throwing up earlier. But the gory sight of the two holes in Doyle's face roiled my stomach and burned my throat.
I swallowed convulsively. The smell of Doyle's blood made my gums ache. The fact that I craved that blood made me sick. Arthur might be a monster, but I wasn't that far behind.
Arthur waited with a calm disposition as Doyle screamed his heart out. His eyes locked on mine, looking for something even as darkness twisted the bond and cried for violence and blood and vengeance.
You're not scaring me.
A loud crack rekindled Doyle's screams. His bare foot jutted at an unnatural angle. I couldn't help my wince.
This is who I am.
Arthur's cold voice wrapped around me, icy fingers caressing my soul.
But that's not all you are. I sent the thought through the bond. Are you trying to scare me off?
His lashes lowered, and when his eyes looked up again, the need and vulnerability in them stole my breath. The need to be seen and accepted as he was, darkness and light and every shade in between.
I gave him a rueful smile. I'm a monster, too, remember?
Arthur's eyes warmed. No one is less of a monster than you.
Light suffused the bond, merging with the darkness and twisting into a corded rope of sun and shadows, life and death. The bond buzzed with new life, stronger and calmer.
Arthur's gaze returned to Doyle and I was again aware of the fae's moans and my father's eyes on me.
"I told you not to look at her," Arthur said. Once again, he put his hand on Doyle's shoulder. "The attack, Doyle."
Doyle gasped, breath rattling in his chest. I really wished he would just spit it out, I didn't want to witness any more broken bones or crushed organs.
"I-I hired them," Doyle rasped. "They were supposed to get rid of her."
"I see," Arthur said. "Who else knows about these schemes of yours?"
"No one. I trusted no one. I came up with the plan on my own."
He almost sounded proud of it. Miserable idiot.
It only took several minutes for Arthur to extract every bit of useful information from Doyle. Pain loosened his tongue. But the fae didn't have anything else beyond the attacks on me. He wasn't involved in the gate scheme.
When Doyle was no longer coherent from pain and fear, Arthur put his hand around his neck.
My father's voice stilled his hands. "Arthur."
Arthur regarded my father coolly. "His life is mine."
"It is," my father said. "I only ask for a day. Then you might do whatever it is you desire with him."
"A day?"
My father straightened. "To send a message. Harming my daughter will not go unpunished."
I sighed.
Arthur removed his hands from Doyle and stepped back. Doyle slumped in his chair, apparently relieved that he would get a reprieve from my mate. Except if his eyes hadn't been smashed into his skull, the look on my father's face would have made his relief short-lived.
My father had the guards carry Doyle out, with a last glance at Arthur and me, he left. Arthur closed in on me. He lifted his wrist to his mouth and bit down, breaking the skin.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
He stopped in front of me, holding out his wrist. "Drink. You need it."
"I'm fine. I can go without for a while."
He put his wrist right in front of my nose. My goodness. The smell of his blood made my own blood roar in my ears. My mouth watered. How could it smell so damn good?
"It'll go to waste," Arthur said. "Drink. I need you to be clear-headed."
I pursed my lips and glared at him. The skin was already closed on his wrist. But the thick droplet of blood remained on the surface of his skin, a siren call to my thirst.
Ugh, fine. I licked the blood and swallowed. And my head exploded with colors. Heat suffused my body, and it had nothing to do with burning off the venom. Blood rushed through my veins. My senses cleared up with a pop and grew extremely sensitive.
The bond pulsed and tightened, growing stronger and tauter, pulling us toward each other.
The candlelight played shadows on the walls. Everything was clear as if the candle was the sun itself. Arthur's fingers brush my cheek, his eyes a molten brown.
With a smile that held a promise, he stepped back from me.
"Did you find anything of interest in the village?" Arthur asked.
"Yep. Apparently, my mother wrote a bunch of books."
"Spell books?"
"Some of them are spell books. Arnold, the library owner, gave them to me. Irene took them to our room."
Arthur's eyes narrowed.
"What is it?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. We should go, see what your father is doing."
I nodded, feeling much better, more like myself.
Before we even got outside, haunting cries raised goosebumps on my flesh. The sun had long set. Lampposts illuminated the courtyard, and ball sized flames floated around the yard above people's heads.
What stole my gaze was the fire blazing right in the center of the yard. As we got closer, my stomach turned.
A metallic bull stood atop the fire, its legs and underbelly embedded in the heat. Pained cries emerged from some vent on the metallic structure, a haunting symphony of pain and horror.
The brazen bull.
I had read about it before. A medieval torture method.
Irene and the others were watching the show with the rest of the castle guests. We stopped beside them.
"Humans come up with the most interesting torture methods," Marianno said beside me."It makes one think that their blood lust is no less compared to ours."
"Do you think we could find some marshmallows around here?" Irene said.
I gave her a look. "Really?"
"What? It's no use letting good fire go to waste."
I shook my head at her. I felt like Doyle's cries would echo in my head for decades to come.
"He wanted to kill you," Irene told me. "Wanted you hunted down like you were a rabid dog. He kidnapped a little girl. He sent those mercenaries yesterday to their doom. I don't feel one flicker of pity for him. And you shouldn't, either."
I sighed. It wasn't like I could help it.
Arthur's hand squeezed mine. The fox is right. He doesn't deserve your sympathy.
Remembering yesterday's blood bath, the unnecessary loss of life, made it easier to stomach. But that still didn't mean I was fine with the scene before me.
Did he deserve this torture? Maybe. I didn't know. Who was I to judge?
What a messed up world we lived in.
The problem was, I knew that Arthur had a much worse fate for the man after my father was done with him. I didn't even want to think about it.
"What bothers you, really?" Irene asked, her dark hair swallowing the firelight. "I know it's not pain and death, I've seen you fight."
"It's not the same," I told her. "A fight is fair, the other person can fight back. Torture is just... Don't get me wrong, I can torture someone if I absolutely have to. But it just leaves a bad taste in my mouth."
I turned to leave, aware of the gazes of the fae milling around pressing on me, fear pouring out of their eyes. My father definitely sent a message with this.
I wondered if they'd seen the state Doyle was in before he was stuffed in the heart of the bull. That would make them even more frightened.
I stopped in my tracks when I noticed a ruckus heading our way from the castle. The crowd parted to admit the king and his black guards.
My uncle looked furious.
"What is the meaning of this, Orion?" he bellowed, standing inches from his brother. Everyone else stepped back, except for Arthur and I.
My father crossed his arms and looked at the king with a small frown. "This is me rendering justice, brother."
"Doyle is one of my faithful men," the king said. "He cannot be punished like some petty criminal. Release him at once."
"He is a criminal," my father said. "He attacked our guests yesterday, he attacked my daughter today, and I will have him punished."
Even if you don't agree.
The unspoken words hung heavy in the air. My father seemed larger, somehow, his magic a raging storm. The brothers' gazes locked in a stare off. Tension hung over the place, drowning even Doyle's pained cries. Violence was a heartbeat away.
Then my uncle grinned. Tension broke.
"Ah, I see. I didn't know he harmed my dear niece. Very well. You may proceed."
My father's shoulders relaxed and he nodded. My uncle turned to us. The fire and screams behind him gave him a halo from hell, casting his face in shadows.
"I trust you are well, Elle dear?"
"Yes. Thank you."
His smile was tense even in the shadows. He gave one regal nod, snapped his fingers to his guards, and they retreated back to the castle.
The crowd burst into speculative murmurs.
My uncle was king. The fact that Orion, even if he was his brother, stood up to him in front of other people and defied a direct order, was a hit to my uncle's authority. The fact that my uncle actually conceded, had just shifted the power balance.
"Hmm." Arthur looked at my father through new eyes. "It seems your father has finally awakened, after so long."
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Hope you like it!
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Much love.
M.B.