Chapter Nine
Morgan
After a bath to soothe my aching ribs, and a generous plate of eggs, bacon, and biscuits, Nevis helps me dress. My closet is filled with dresses and gowns. It feels weird wearing the Morrigan’s clothing, like a lamb being dressed for slaughter, so I reach for the suit I wore from The Nead.
Nevis shakes her head. “Dress the part. Today, you’re not a warrior. You’re a guest of the Queen.”
“A guest?” I snort. “I may not be in the dungeons, but I wouldn’t call myself free.”
I feel like a dick the instant I say it. Nevis is a slave and has been since birth. The Morrigan controls every aspect of her life, and the small part she doesn’t is in the hidden underground community she’s desperately trying to free. I reach for the nearest dress, a pale blue that has the shimmer of silver, and hold it up. “How does this look?”
“Lovely.”
Nevis insists on taming my hair, using a hot iron to straighten my normally curly locks. She braids the top part so that it pulls away from my face. I’m marveling at her skills when there’s a knock on the door.
Apprehension tickles my spine. I’m still reeling from the attack by Casteel. His behavior was vicious, and there’s no doubt he’ll be back for more once he recovers from the wound Dylan gave him.
Nevis steps forward and opens the door. Her shoulders visibly relax when she sees the courier in the hallway. He passes me an envelope stamped on the back with a wax seal. I fight the urge to laugh at the formality but it also only confirms I’m a stranger in a strange land.
I scan the card. After the courier leaves I say, “I’ve been summoned to the Morrigan’s chambers. What do you think she wants?”
“Gods only know,” she replies, bringing me a pair of soft slip-on shoes. “Just try to behave yourself, okay?”
I make a face. “I’ll do my best not to get killed before my army arrives, if that’s what you’re saying.”
Nevis smiles. “Precisely.”
*
The queen’s chambers are a level above mine and we pass through six different guards before we’re allowed to enter. The first two take their time searching me for weapons. I don’t blame them. Nevis had to convince me to leave the fork from breakfast on the table and not slipped into the stocking band around my thigh.
“Take your time,” I hiss at one of the soldiers as his fingers linger over my waist. “Ask Casteel what happened when he took advantage.”
The soldier freezes, turns pale, and abruptly steps away.
I’m not particularly surprised to find Anita on the other side of the double doors sitting on a plush, dark purple chair.
“Good morning, Morgan,” she says, taking a sip of steaming tea. Her own servant stands against the wall and I recognize her from underground, although her expression is blank as stone.
“Anita.” I take the seat next to her and ignore the tea.
“How did you sleep?” she asks, looking like a princess that grew up in this world. “I love these feather beds. I wish we could get something like that back home, you know?”
No. Really, I don’t.
She doesn’t stop, even though I say nothing to encourage her. “You drank like a champ last night. Should have told you the wine is stronger here. But their hangover tonic is to die for.” She smooths out the skirt on her dress. “I really should thank you for bringing me back with you.”
I fight the urge to grab her neck and snap it between my hands. Luckily, she’s saved not only by my incredible self-restraint but by the Morrigan entering the room.
She’s dressed to perfection in a black tunic and tight pants. The top is cut deep, revealing a large swath of pale, perfect skin. She looks better today than the night before and I wonder how much of the water tonic she took this morning to maintain her appearance. She sits, and her servant begins preparing her a cup of tea.
“Ah, Macha and Nemain. You both look lovely today.” Her eyes linger over me as if she’s searching for something—a crack or possibly a change of some kind. “I hope your quarters serve you well.”
“Mine are fantastic, Your Majesty.”
She smiles at Anita. “You always loved the creature comforts, dear sister.” The Morrigan takes a sip from her cup and looks at me. “And how about you, Neman? Sleep well?”
“If you mean black-out drunk, then sure.” I flash her a smile. “It was grand.”
Her eyes narrow but the expression on her face doesn’t change. “I called you here to explain the next few days. Last night was just the kick-off of our three day celebration leading up to the bonding ceremony. As you’ve seen, I’ve loaded your room with clothing and supplies to get you through a variety of events. All are optional but I suggest you take part in as many as you can. The members of my court and the citizens of my kingdom want a chance to see the women that will help me expand my reign from one world to the next.”
“You want us on display?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around the details she’s given. “Before you kill us to make yourself stronger.”
The Morrigan tilts her head. “I’m not killing you, dear Nemain. We’re fulfilling destiny. The fates have finally aligned. Anand, Macha, and Nemain all together on the full moons. We’ll join as one and prevail over many worlds.”
I open my mouth to tell her that she’s deranged. Crazy. Out of her fucking mind, but a sharp look from Nevis keeps me quiet. For now.
“I’d like to proceed as though you are not prisoners here. I want you to have full access to the castle and surrounding grounds. I’ll have an itinerary sent to your rooms so you can enjoy the festivities.” She sets her cup on the table. Her dark eyes flick between us. “Understand you will be watched, and if you do anything to disrupt my plans, I’ll shackle you in the dungeons.”
“I, for one, cannot wait to join in the celebrations,” Anita says.
“And you?” the Morrigan asks me.
“I won’t cause any trouble,” I tell her. I do not add that my guardians will do the damage for me. “In fact, I’m really eager to learn more about your kingdom. So far I’m very impressed.”
The Morrigan thrusts her hand on the table and gestures for us to do the same. Anita places hers on top of the Morrigan’s and I place mine on top of Anita’s. The Queen lays her other hand on top, sandwiching us in. A hum of energy builds between our skin, something I’ve only felt with my guardians in the heat of passion. There’s no denying the power charging between us. The current is strong, dark, and filled with a hunger and want like I’ve never experienced. It’s like a shot of adrenaline. Endorphins. The most delicious drug I’ve ever experienced. I taste it on my tongue, feel it traveling up my arms, in my fingertips and throughout my entire body.
“Together, we can be a force beyond recognition. I hope you appreciate the opportunity I’m giving you.” She lifts her hand, and like it was never there to begin with, the energy fades and immediately I miss the feeling of power coursing through my veins.
We’re dismissed, and Nevis and I walk down the stone hallway back toward my rooms. Once we’re out of earshot of the soldiers I grab her arm and say, “Take me to Bunny’s chambers. Now.”
Chapter Ten
Dylan
My stomach is tight with dread as we enter the building. It’s almost midnight and the earlier fights are already in process. The shouts and jeers from the crowd echo around the room and I glance back at my brothers—giving them one last chance to back out.
I’m met with three sets of determined eyes. Okay then. We’re doing this.
The walkways are bottlenecked, but once we enter as a group, eyes shift our direction. We’re not scheduled to fight tonight and rarely do we appear otherwise. I hear our name whispered through the crowd; the energy level rises significantly. They all suspect they’re in for a surprise.
Little do they know.
“The Shaman should be down by the ring,” Sam says. We break right, down the stairs and toward the ring where two female demons are in the throes of a death match.
The crowd parts, allowing us to pass. Our names are called and I hear my brothers speaking to people in the audience. I keep my eyes forward, focused. I’m not interested in friends. I’m interested in allies. It’s the only reason I’m here.
When the Shaman senses our presence he glances up, making eye contact.
“You survived the trip to the Otherside,” he says as we approach. His eyes flit over my brothers, searching for scars or wounds.
“With a little help, yes,” I say. In the ring, one demon punches the other and a splatter of blood lands on the mat nearby. “Morgan obviously did not make it back over.”
“She specifically asked for one-way passage. I wasn’t sure if she got it for herself or one of you.”
“You knew she was planning on staying?” Sam asks.
“She was well aware of the sacrifice she’d have to make for your safe return.” He glances at the fights on the stage. “I hear you managed to bring back a cure.”
“It’s been delivered to the proper authorities,” Clinton declares. None of us plan to reveal the source of the cure. “But hopefully the spread will end when a vaccine is made and delivered.”
Admiration shines in the Shaman’s eyes. “Your girl is tough. Follows through. I’m impressed.”
“Well,” I say, crossing my arms. “She still needs our help.”
“Which is why you’re here.”
The buzzer for the fight sounds, thankfully, as one demon has decapitated the other and continued to bash her head on the blood-soaked mat. The fight isn’t real. It’s just a fantasy, but the result is still gruesome and will require a fair amount of cleanup before the next bout.
I turn back to the Shaman. “We’re here to make you an offer.”
The Shaman’s mouth twists with interest and he leans against the stage. “I’m listening.”
Clinton steps forward. “We’re looking to buy the Legion of Immortals. We have cash, jewelry, or gold. Whichever you prefer.”
Surprise flickers in his eyes. He waits a beat and strokes the small beard on his chin. “You know money doesn’t interest me.”
Damien sighs behind me. The money and gold was a wish—one we knew he wouldn’t take. “But you’re willing to sell their contract.”
“Sell isn’t the right word. I’ll offer their contracts up as winnings.”
I fight the urge to run. This man. Making a deal with him is like courting the devil. “What do you want? Another year of our service? Tack on another decade?”
“Let’s make this interesting. If you beat the Legion of Immortals in the ring, I’ll not only give you their contract but I’ll tear up yours as well.”
“And if we lose?” Clinton asks.
“I expand your contract for another fifty years.” He pauses. “And the girl, too.”