Beauty [A Faery Story 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  Kaja growled, a low, menacing sound that seemed to come from the back of her throat, and Shim could have sworn she suddenly had a mouth full of sharp teeth. “I am not Seelie.”

  Damn, he was going to lose a few goblins if he didn’t start to fix this.

  “Is that the queen?” Lach asked, walking up behind him.

  At least he had an answer for this particular question. So often he didn’t. So often he drifted away, his mind seeking Bronwyn’s and melding in an odd way. He was really the plane’s worst peeper. He shook it off. It was always there, that slight invisible tie that bound him to his wife. Well, the woman who didn’t even know she was his wife. Years had passed since the single act that had bound them together, and as far as he could tell, Bronwyn hadn’t gotten the message that she was a married woman. Not that she was playing around. Shim always managed to fix those little problems. A nice fire bolt tended to make would-be suitors think twice about fucking around with his bride.

  “Are you still with me?” Lach asked.

  Shim groaned a little. “Sorry. I was thinking about her. Yes, I think that’s the queen, and she’s not what we thought she would be. And the one named Kaja mentioned Dante. Gods, did Julian really bring Dante Dellacourt here? Shouldn’t he be in a strip club on the Vampire plane?”

  “I think she heard you.” Lach nodded toward the women.

  The slim one was watching him with narrowed eyes. “Explain this stripping club to me. I do not like the sound of it. It sounds like a place my husband should stay far from.”

  Queen Meg smiled. “It sounds like a place Dante more than likely used to frequent before he got married.”

  “Bloody hell, Dante Dellacourt is married?” Duffy walked up, two big mugs of goblin whiskey steaming in his hands. The little gnome belched a bit. “Is it one of the crazy women from the DL we all watched? That was fun. We made it into a drinking game. Every time that idiot would say ‘hey, baby,’ we would all drink. I never been so drunk in all me life.”

  Shim was just about to apologize when the queen’s laughter rang through the hall. The goblin she’d been accosting ran like a demon was on his heels. Queen Meg laughed it off. “We drank every time he took off his shirt or got into a hot tub. I got pretty drunk myself. And yes, Dante Dellacourt took a consort. This is Kaja Dellacourt. I would tread carefully, Your Highnesses. She’s a little bitter. We passed many an interesting creature on the road here, and her husband would let her feast on nothing.” She got down on one knee. The Seelie queen was dressed in informal clothes, but there was no doubt she was a queen. There was an air of authority to the woman. But there was also a pleasant smile on her face. “Hello, wee one. What’s your name? I can make a guess as to who those two are, but I was unaware there were gnomes on this plane.”

  Duffy stepped forward. She’d gotten down to his level. It was an unexpected sign of respect. Shim was starting to like the Seelie queen. “Me name is Duffy, Your Highness. I was a foundling. Me mum left me on the road, and the Unseelie queen, rest her soul, took pity on me. She brought me to the palace, and I was raised here.”

  “A third brother.” Queen Meg nodded his way. “It is good to meet you. I was wondering, Duffy, if you might have a bit more of that delicious brew?”

  Duffy shoved that mug in the queen’s hand quicker than Shim had ever seen him move before. He looked back at Shim, apologies on his small face. “Sorry, Shim. I meant that for you, but she’s prettier.”

  Queen Meg winked at the gnome and then took a shockingly long drink of the goblin brew. “Thank god. We’ve been on the run. I haven’t been able to find any. Don’t worry, I’ll trade for it. Anyone here ever heard of cupcakes?”

  The doors to the king’s room opened, and a silence fell across the hall. King Fergus entered, followed by their cousin, Julian Lodge, the Seelie kings, his father’s chief advisor, a vampire Shim didn’t recognize, and the infamous Dante Dellacourt.

  None of them looked happy, and it gave Shim a damn good idea of what his place was. He’d been left outside of the meeting. He’d been left with the women.

  Queen Meg gave him a wisp of a smile. “If it helps at all, we were a bit earlier than we expected. I don’t think your father intended to leave you out.”

  But his father was overly protective. His father still thought they were children, not thirty years old. Shim understood why. His father was still waiting for them to fade, to die because they refused to take a bondmate. King Fergus of the Unseelie didn’t believe it was possible that his sons had bonded with a woman on another plane. No one believed they had bonded with Bronwyn Finn as she lay dying.

  They certainly wouldn’t believe that Shim and Lach had been the ones to bring her back to life, giving a piece of their soul and half of Lach’s face in return.

  “Father isn’t interested in our counsel.” Shim was well aware of the bitter flavor to his words.

  Lach stared down at him. “Well, it doesn’t help when half of us goes down to the beach and no one can find us.”

  Shim knew he hadn’t helped things, but he couldn’t resist. He’d woken this morning and he’d felt sunshine on his face. He’d smiled because it was a cloudy day here. But Bron could feel the sun, and Shim could feel her delight in it. He was suffused with her unique energy as she’d run through the fields.

  He never got words, only images and feelings. But if he concentrated, if he went deep into himself and caught hold of the invisible thread that was always there in his brain, he could see through her eyes. It was how he’d known his sister was still alive.

  His father didn’t believe that either.

  “I’ll tell you about the men you don’t recognize if you’ll give me the lowdown on your party,” the queen offered.

  Kaja had joined her queen, their closeness obvious. “I would like to know their names as well.”

  Lach reached down and grabbed the mug from Duffy’s hand, taking a drink before handing it back. Again, if the queen was shocked that his brother would share with a gnome, she didn’t show it. What had she called Duffy? A third brother. The queen, it appeared, might make an interesting ally. Lach caught his eye and gave him an almost imperceptible nod. He was fine with sharing information.

  “The man on my father’s right is named Maon. He’s been Da’s advisor since long before we were born. He’s been arguing that we should go to war with Torin the Pretender since we got the news of the coup.”

  “Torin the Pretender?” Lach chuckled gruffly. “More like Torin the Fucking Asshole.”

  Meg turned to Lach. “I rather like you.”

  Lach shrugged. “Give it a little time. I can probably change your mind.”

  “Well, at least I know which one is which. It’s nice to meet you, Prince Lachlan.” She turned to Shim. “Prince Shim. Julian gave us a rundown on how the two of you split. I was told you’re the sweet one, and he’s the big ball of insecurity.”

  Lach’s jaw dropped. “What?”

  Kaja laughed. “He did not use such words, Meg. He spoke of Prince Shim’s gentle soul and Prince Lach’s gruffness.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been here and do this on a daily basis. Trust me, Kaj. The gruff one is always hiding his own insecurities. I bet that one there thinks his scars make him unattractive.”

  Lach went a brutal shade of red. “I don’t talk about that. It’s rude for you to mention it.”

  Queen Meg studied Lach for a moment, not a hint of distaste on her face. “See. And they don’t. They’re actually quite interesting. They give you character. What do you think, Kaj?”

  A sly smile came over the brunette’s face. “I think he looks like a warrior. I find him very attractive. He is the First in this group. He simply hasn’t taken his place.”

  But Shim needed to get back to something else that had been said. “I’m not gentle. For the gods’ sake, woman. Don’t be calling me such names. Do you want to insult me?”

  “You are gentle, Shim.” Lach had a smile back on his face.

  �
��I bloody well am not.”

  “I got to agree, Shim,” Duffy added. “The last time you killed an ogre, you didn’t even eat the heart. Soft.”

  “Ogre gives me indigestion.” Shim frowned. He wasn’t soft. He fucking wasn’t. He just had trouble with his gut at times.

  Kaja’s eyes went wide. “See, Meg, he got to eat the ogre.”

  “No one’s eating ogres.” Dante Dellacourt put a hand on his wife’s waist. “Put it out of your mind, Kaj. And if I see you chasing the brownies, you’ll be over my lap.”

  Dante Dellacourt was a celebrity in his world. Shim and Lach had spent some time on the Vampire plane. They had spent time being educated in more ways than one. They had gone to what the vampires called University, and they had been trained by their cousin, Julian, in the dark arts of Dominance and submission.

  A vision of beautiful Bronwyn tied up and trussed for their pleasure crept over him.

  “Don’t.” Lach leaned in, his harsh whisper pulling him out of his mind.

  Sometimes having a twin who could practically read his mind was deeply irritating.

  “Come along, Kaj. We need to settle into our rooms. We’re going to have dinner in a bit. Your Highnesses, I look forward to meeting with you.” He led his wife away, but Kaja turned, giving them both a smile.

  Meg waved to her friend and then turned back to Shim and Lach. She pointed at the men left standing in the foyer. “Obviously, those two are my husbands. I think it’s safe to say Cian is the gentler of the two. He would never ever eat an ogre heart, but you could talk Beck into it. The vampire with them is named Simon Roan. He leads a group of mercenaries.”

  “Cash-poor royal?” Shim asked. It was a good bet. Vampires weren’t the most compassionate people. When a vampire family lost its fortune, they tended to lose everything. Many committed suicide rather than move to the lower levels of their great cities, but some, like Simon Roan, found another way to replace their lost honor. They took up the sword, or in this case, most likely a whole bunch of high-tech sonic weapons.

  The queen nodded. “Yes. He’s also hungry for a consort, so it’s a testament to his loyalty to your cousin that he’s not fighting for the other side. Torin’s promised the royals one hundred consorts. After a thirteen-year drought, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  Vampires, the royal ones, required a consort to suspend the aging process. They did this through the act of feeding from consort blood. Gods, he wanted to taste his wife. Just like that his damn fangs came out.

  Meg giggled a bit, taking another sip of her drink. “It looks like you have that trouble here, too. Why haven’t you taken a consort?”

  “Because we already have a bondmate.” The words came out of Lach’s mouth sounding dismissive, but Shim knew why. He was sure the queen wouldn’t believe them either. Perhaps the queen had been right. Lach was the one with all the insecurities. But then again, he was also the half who didn’t mind a little ogre heart when the occasion called for it.

  “The princess in the tower?” Queen Meg asked.

  It was what they called her now. They knew her name. Had always known her name, but there were too many ears who could hear the secret. Bronwyn Finn was safer dead. Shim might be softer than his brother, but he wasn’t a fool. Even Torin the Wretched Asshole had spies.

  “Julian told you. He doesn’t believe us.” Shim looked at his cousin, who was laughing at something one of the others said. Julian was ridiculously wealthy, ruthless, and intensely perverse. He fit right in with the Unseelie. And Julian had been smart enough to figure out a way to get his own consort off the closed Seelie plane. He’d been set to wed a young bondmate named Daniella when the war had occurred. Nothing so simple as a bloody civil war had ever stopped Julian Lodge. He had his bondmate, and he hadn’t blinked an eye when she’d come to him with an extra. Her servant, a young man named Quinn, had stowed away and fought to remain by her side. In true Julian Lodge fashion, he’d simply taken them both, and now everyone was happy.

  Shim couldn’t find his bondmate because he couldn’t convince his father that she was still alive.

  What if her brothers proved to be more reasonable?

  “How old are you?” Meg asked.

  “Thirty,” Shim replied.

  Shrewd eyes studied them. “Well past the age of bonding. Shouldn’t you be all crazy and stuff? Beck and Ci were. Beck hid it, but I understand now how close to the edge he was. I don’t sense that from either of you.”

  Lach tensed beside him. “Because we bonded thirteen years ago.”

  Shim watched as Meg’s eyes registered shock, but not quite disbelief. “You bonded, but you lost her?”

  “We were never physically with her. We bonded only in our minds,” Shim explained.

  He was about to continue when a shout went through the hall. One of the guards ran in, his sword on his hand. “Your Majesty, the sluagh…”

  The guard had to take a deep breath. It was obvious he’d run long and hard from his post.

  Shim had to take a deep breath because a couple of sluagh coming to the palace wasn’t a good sign. The sluagh normally kept to their caves, feasting on the rotten things of the world.

  His father sighed. “How many?”

  The guard’s eyes tightened. “All of them, Your Majesty.”

  Shim took the cup out of Duffy’s hand. He was going to need the courage because it looked like they were all fucked.

  Chapter Two

  Bron let the sunshine warm her face and the soft sound of the wheat swaying in the breeze calm her. It was nearly time for the threshing, but she had a few days of peace left. When the time came, she would work from morning ’til just after the sun went down, and then she would barely manage to eat before she passed out from exhaustion.

  She would sleep too deeply to dream. She would miss them.

  How could she miss two men she’d never met?

  “Issy! Issy!” A high voice pierced her solitude.

  Bron smiled. Even after all these years, she still was somewhat shocked to hear herself called by another name. Isolde. She’d selected it when Gillian had finally given up on finding a way off the plane. She could still see Gilly’s face, the tears streaking down as she’d told her she had to give up her name.

  This plane had been hard on her foster mother.

  “Issy!”

  “I’m here, Ove!” There was nothing for it. The little brownie would call out for her until she found her quarry. Ove was a tenacious little thing.

  The shafts of wheat moved and shuffled as the brownie ran toward her. Bron braced herself for impact.

  “Found you.” Ove launched herself into Bron’s arms.

  “Yes, you did.” Bron held her, enjoying the feel of her frail body. She loved the brownies. Their rough faces and scraggly hair evoked a tenderness that called her childhood back. The nannies and housemaids had almost all been brownies, working diligently for their cups of cream.

  Ove was a youngling, barely past two, but brownies aged differently. She was still a child but well on her way to her own work. Still, the light of youth was in her wide black eyes. She clung to Bron for a moment. Brownies were deeply affectionate creatures when they were allowed to be. Her own nanny had carried her until she’d gotten too big, and then Flanna had stroked her hair and held her hand whenever possible. Her mother had loved the affection between them, and her father had tolerated it.

  Where was sweet Flanna now? Probably buried in the wide mass graves she’d seen Torin’s men digging as she’d fled the palace.

  She shook off the thought and looked down at little Ove. “So tell me, little one, why were you looking for me?”

  “The mayor’s coming.”

  Three words and her whole day was wrecked. Micha O’Donnell was a pompous ass who eyed her with far too much familiarity for a man twice her age. Unfortunately, he was a pompous ass with power in this backwater part of the world. This village might be the ass end of the plane, but Torin still had some measure
of control through the officials even here.

  Bron set the brownie on her feet. “Did your mum know why he’s coming?”

  Of all the people left on the plane, only Mags had figured out who she and Gillian were. The brownie, who sometimes helped with the house and the fields, had slipped up once a few years back and called Gillian by her title. It seemed she’d been born on the Unseelie plane. Bron had despaired in leaving her tower since it had become her home, but Mags had taken to one fragile knee and pledged to defend the Unseelie princess with her life. It had satisfied Gillian, and then they’d had an ally.

  “Mum said she overheard there was talk of new restrictions.” Ove’s eyes grew round, a wealth of fear.

  Bron took a deep breath. New restrictions meant new laws against magic and non-sidhe creatures. She took Ove’s hand and began to wind her way out of the field. She needed to change clothes if the mayor was coming. He tended to call her to task when she was seen in public in the soft leather pants she’d come to favor.

  She regretted leaving the field. She could think out there among the wheat she’d planted. She could close her eyes and almost feel her Dark Ones. What would the mayor think if he knew she dreamed at night of two lovers, one with dark powers and the other who could light up the night?

  He would be horrified and possibly accuse her of witchcraft. It was what they accused everyone of these days.

  When she travelled to sell her wheat, they were everywhere—bodies strung up on the side of the road. Witchcraft. Collusion. Improper contact with non-sidhe creatures. Whispering the names Beck and Cian. All offenses punishable by hanging.

  There were rumors that the ones who had been hanged were the lucky ones.

  Gillian stood at the edge of the field, a stern look on her face. She’d dressed for the occasion in a sturdy but respectable gown that would prove completely impractical in the fields. “Where have you been?”

  Bron looked back at the field pointedly.

  “None of your sass, girl.” Gillian sighed and shook her head. “If your da could see you now.”

  He would be perfectly horrified, but the thought brought a bit of a smile to Bron’s face. “He would demand to know where his daughter was. Well, if he noticed at all. Now Mama, on the other hand, would have a fit of vapors, and my brothers would laugh.”