Page 27 of Enslaved

These questions don’t matter just now, however. Whatever Estrilde’s plots or plans, I need only concern myself with Danny. I must rescue my friend, keep my head down, and leave the Lords and Ladies to their machinations.

“It is an impressive trophy, Lord Vokarum,” I say, hoping he cannot hear the quaver in my voice. “A worthy prize. Indeed I will accept it as fitting reward for besting your Wild Hunt.”

A stunned silence hangs over the table. The horned lord’s sons have all frozen mid-bite. Even the lady in red lifts her gaze to stare down the table at me. I could almost swear I heard the chandelier skulls draw breath in shock. Idreloth on her spike swivels her dreadful eyes to study me closely.

Then Vokarum tosses back his antlered head and lets out a resounding bark. The burst of sound startles everyone at the table save perhaps the Prince. He continues to lounge and swirl his drink as casually as ever, even as the three sons grip their carving knives. I make a half-move to brandish my quill, but Vokarum merely waggles the tip of his hunting knife idly in my direction. “Your victory, Librarian, was impressively won. Even so, it was not worth such a prize. I gave a great deal to gain that pretty head. I will not give it up save for something of equal value.”

My heart thunders in the cavern of my breast. “Very well, Lord Vokarum.” With great purpose, I place my book on the table before me and fold my hands atop it. The horned lord’s eyes flash dangerously. I hear his breath catch. “Tell me what you would have in exchange. I will bargain with you.”

At this, the Prince sputters into his wine and sets the skull cup down so hard it nearly shatters. I refuse to look at him, holding Vokarum’s gaze. “That is my desired prize,” I continue, my voice firmer now than when I’d begun, “that you should make a bargain with me and swear to uphold your end when I have accomplished mine.”

Vokarum’s eyes narrow slowly, his expression a mask of malice. “There is but one bargain I would deem worthy in exchange,” he says at last. “And you could never fulfill it.”

“Name it.”

He leans back in his chair. He’s so feral and terrible. Nonetheless, glamour ripples out from him. How many women fell under the spell of his allure? Fell for him, married him, and died willingly for his sake? Like all fae, he is far more dangerous to love than to hate.

“I will bargain for my one true desire,” he says. “The sole wish of my heart: a kiss. From the only woman I ever loved.” I glance at the wife. But this only sets Vokarum laughing dangerously once more. “Not her!” he cries. “No, the only woman I ever loved was Seraphine of Ulakrana.”

I blink. “Ulakrana? But . . . but that’s the Realm Under Wave!”

“Aye.” Vokarum nods, his eyes sparking with deep fire. “The kingdom of the merfolk. And Seraphine, bless her black heart, is their queen. I courted her, you know,” he says, addressing himself to the Prince now, who looks on silently, his face a study. “I set sail on the Hinter Sea, seeking her who was said to be fairest in all Eledria. She lured me with her siren song; I harpooned her, and she retaliated by wrecking my ship. Ah! What a wild and terrifying courtship it was! But in the end, she abandoned me. Left me brokenhearted without so much as a kiss to remember her by.” Shaking his head, he turns to me again, pointing one long finger in my face. “Get me that kiss, Librarian, and I will give you Idreloth’s head.”

My lips are dry, my mouth like a desert. I’ve heard enough stories about Ulakrana and its deadly inhabitants to know I would prefer never to see it. I feel the Prince’s eyes on me, can almost hear his silent urging:Don’t be foolish, Darling. You’ve taken this far enough. It’s time to put this lunacy aside and go home.

But another pair of eyes watches me as well. Idreloth. In her alcove. On her spike. Her gaze is fixed like a serpent’s. I dare a swift glance her way and catch a brief expression of ravenoushope.It’s gone in a blink, replaced by a blank, horrible, slack-jawed visage of death. But I know what I saw. Idreloth wants to be made whole again.

Which means . . . which means she might be convinced to part with the bloodgem necklace in exchange for that head.

I can do this. I’m sure I can.

“Very well, Lord Vokarum.” I rise and hold out my hand. “You shall have your kiss.”

The horned lord’s heavy brow lifts in surprise. Then he too rises, dwarfing me in size. His massive, clawed hand engulfs my fingers, sealing our agreement. “It’s a bargain,” he says.

The Prince and I cross unmolested over the night-bound landscape of Noxaur. I’d thought I would feel better once we left Skullkreg behind. Instead, I find the wide openness of the terrain unsettling. There’s nowhere to hide after all if the Wild Hunt were to set upon us suddenly. But the hunters never show themselves, and by the time I see the ocean again—and the silhouette of the Between Gate, arched against the stars—I begin to breathe easier.

The Prince walks beside me, uncharacteristically silent. He’s not spoken a word since I struck my bargain with Vokarum. I cast him uncertain glances, but he keeps his eyes to the front, never once looking my way. I cannot read his expression by starlight. Not that it matters; I can safely assume he’s angry. As usual.

We are just nearing the edge of the cliff above the rocky shoreline when he speaks at last. “Well, Darling, it looks as though we’ll be back by teatime. Do you fancy egg-and-cress sandwiches? Or perhaps a hearty game pie and a handful of strawberry tarts. My chef isn’t terribly adept at such trifles; his great troll-hands weren’t made for the forming of delicate pastries. But he’s been practicing, bless him.”

I blink, startled. “What . . . what are you talking about?”

“Tea, of course,” he replies. “You know, that mid-afternoon interlude your kind is so fond of? I find most human habits dubious at best, but the teatime tradition is one for which you have my hearty approval. And, as I was saying, we should be home in time for a soothing cuppa before I must return to my work in the library. You, of course, may spend the rest of your day as you wish.”

“We are not returning to Vespre.” I shake my head fiercely. “Not yet.”

“Of course we are. Where else would we go?”

“To Ulakrana.” The words emerge from my throat high and tight. I bite my lip then try again more calmly. “I’m going to fulfill my bargain with Lord Vokarum. I’m going to get Idreloth’s head.”

The Prince looks down at me. Though his lips curl in an indulgent smile, his eyes spark with something sharper. “Brave words as usual, Darling. But as it is absolutely and without question impossible for you to accomplish your side of the bargain, we may as well call it a day.”

I draw back from him, feet slipping in the loose soil at the top of the cliffs. “I’m going to Ulakrana,” I repeat. “I will find the merqueen, and—”

“And what? Convince her to kiss an old would-be lover she tried several times to murder and left washed up on some desolate shore an age ago?” The Prince laughs, a dry, mirthless sound. “I don’t know what tales you’ve heard about Seraphine, Darling, but let me assure you: they are none of them exaggerated.”

I have heard the stories. One couldn’t live in this world long without picking up rumors and whispers about the dreadful siren queen. How she uses her seductive voice to entice men and women alike to hurl themselves from the decks of their ships then tears the beating hearts from their chests and devours them. Or, if the mood takes her, she will claim a man as her lover, by whom she’ll birth one of her host of ferocious daughters. The men never survive the mating; their bloated bodies wash up to shore weeks or months later. She’s violent, solitary, and more inhuman—so to speak—than the most vicious fae ever to terrorize the courts of Eledria.

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