Wings of Shadow (The Underground Trilogy) Page 10

  Startled, Meghan withdrew her hand. “I… I’m so sorry.” She stared down at her lap, focusing on a stray piece of lichen which clung to her dress.

  “I did not mind at all. I rather enjoyed it.” He took her hand and placed it back on his wing tip.

  Meghan gingerly ran her hand down the length of the wing. Underneath the feathery covering, she was surprised to feel muscles. He sat very still, with his eyes closed, and his breath held.

  “Am I… am I hurting you?”

  Avery’s eyes flew open, amusement filling them. “Absolutely not! Explore away, my inquisitive friend.”

  Meghan continued her exploration, shifting her position so she could reach both wings. They were so beautiful! She had been intrigued by the Fae, but never imagined she would have wing envy.

  “I wasn’t sure if they would be fragile, like butterfly wings, where if you touch too much, you can damage the scales,” Meghan explained, her fingertips running down the wings once more.

  Avery hummed more intensely. “Thankfully not,” he sputtered, his breathing growing more rapid.

  Meghan had a sudden realization. She jerked her hands away from Avery’s wings. “Could you actually feel me touching your wings?”

  “Of course I could, silly. Can you actually feel me touching your hair?” He ran his fingers through her locks. Meghan had a difficult time responding as Avery’s fingers grazed her scalp and continued down her soft waves.

  “Without having wings, it’s difficult to imagine what they would feel like.” She had grown so close to Avery over these past few weeks, she had forgotten he was of a completely different species. “So, how do the wings feel?”

  Avery looked mortified. “Well, it is like any body part. You become accustomed to its being there, so you do not necessarily notice unless you are focusing on that particular area.”

  “And when you are focusing on that area?”

  He looked down bashfully. “Wings are the most sensitive area of our bodies.”

  She threw a pillow at Avery, spluttering, “You never thought that you should mention that?” She hid her face in her hands.

  “I was planning on it, but I became distracted—a beautiful human stroking my wings? I would guess that might be the fantasy of every young Fae!” He looked down. “If only there were other young Fae to talk with about fantasies.”

  Meghan tried hard to be mad, but remaining angry with Avery was difficult. She was enjoying herself too much to stay upset, and he had just called her beautiful.

  “Um, since we are talking about informed consent concerning wings, I guess I should mention that it would not be, um, socially acceptable to stroke another Fae’s wings in public. But in private, stroke away, if that is what you wish!” Avery ducked just in time to avoid being struck by another flying pillow.

  Still laughing, he threw the pillow back at Meghan. Picking up another one, he chased her around the small room. As Meghan stepped backward to escape him, she tripped over a cushion and fell to the floor.

  Avery immediately ceased his play and dropped to the ground, hovering over her. Stroking her cheek, he peered into her eyes.

  “I am so sorry, Meg. Are you all right?”

  Initially stunned by the fall, she then found herself dazed by his closeness. Leaning even nearer to her, Avery continued to gaze into her eyes. Without her fully knowing how it happened, their lips met. He gently brushed his soft lips against hers and then jumped up, blushing brightly.

  A musky, flowery aroma filled the air. Something vibrated against her leg. Reaching inside her dress pocket, she removed her hawthorn amulet. The crystal was glowing. Had it reacted to their kiss?

  Meghan rose reluctantly. “It’s getting late. Should we head back?”

  They descended slowly through the Sky Tree. She paused halfway down, wanting to prolong the memories of their evening together. As Meghan reached the base of the tree, she took a few steps out into the dark of the night.

  A hand pressed against her mouth, preventing her from screaming, as a rough hand grasped her by the shoulder. She heard sounds of a struggle, and through the dim light saw Avery being held by a second captor. A chill spread through her at the sight of the latter’s sharp metal wings. Chaos.

  The Gift of Survival

  ~ 12 ~

  Fatigue overpowered her. Meghan fought the urge to sink deeper into the mattress and fade back to sleep. Something wasn’t right. Her mind searched to identify what was wrong, but her thoughts were too foggy. As she relaxed against the pillow, she inhaled, waiting for the sweet smell of Selena’s herbs and flowers. Instead, she sniffed smoke, mixed with the acrid scent of metal. Metal! Meghan forced herself to fully awaken. The four-poster bed, the armchair in front of a roaring fire—she was back in that infernal prison of a room, back to the Underground.

  The room blurred as tears filled her eyes. She was supposed to be safe in the village. How had they been captured? Avery. Where was Avery?

  Meghan tried the door. As expected, it was locked. Alone, imprisoned, she sank down in the armchair and gazed into the blazing fire.

  Time passed. She could not tell how long, but her thoughts were more coherent now. Had she been drugged, and for how long? She really had no sense of the day or time. The warmth of the fire soothed her body, but she couldn’t imagine anything could calm her mind.

  The sound of the lock, metal grating against metal, interrupted her thoughts. She stood, preparing herself, as fear rushed back to her. Time seemed to slow as her muscles tightened and stomach turned. She reminded herself to breathe. As the door slid open, black leather wings darkened the doorway. Shade beckoned for her to approach. She caught a flash of Chaos’s metal wings behind him.

  “Where is Avery? I want to see him.” Meghan glared at them, refusing to take another step. Shade marched into the room and grasped her arm. She tried to break his iron grip, but his fingers clung tightly around her wrist. Chaos grabbed her other arm, his cold fingers holding her securely.

  They marched her out of the room and turned in the direction of his room. Meghan twisted and squirmed, but her feet barely grazed the floor. Within minutes, they were at Lord Killian’s chamber.

  Chaos knocked once and opened the door. They deposited Meghan in the room and secured the door as they retreated.

  “Ah, it is delightful to have my little house guest back,” Lord Killian’s voice boomed across the chamber.

  Meghan tried the door. “Where is Avery? What have you done to him?”

  Lord Killian stood in front of the fireplace, sipping a drink. “I thought it was my other son you were interested in. Humans can be so fickle.”

  The door opened again, causing her to jump. She really hated this place—she was jittery as could be down here. Avery was pushed inside. Meghan spotted the sharp metal tip of Chaos’s wing before the door slammed close.

  She ran to Avery and threw her arms around him. His scent, the smell of the forest and the gardens, reminded her of the village she had grown to love. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded. “What about you? Has he…” Avery stepped back and examined her neck, running his warm hand along her almost invisible scar.

  “No.” Not yet, at least. Her body shuddered.

  “Well, this is all very touching, and I hate to interrupt your little moment, but I would like to meet my son.” Lord Killian approached, scrutinizing Avery from head to toe. “We will need a hairdresser and a trip to the shopping centre for some more modern clothing. You look as though you stepped out of a faerie tale. No, you will never blend in with that outfit.”

  Avery guided Meghan behind him. “Clothing? You speak to me of clothing? You have broken the treaty. It remained intact for seventeen years, and you severed it.”

  Lord Killian removed a scroll from its gilded gold-leaf stand. He held the embossed handles as he unwound the parchment. “The treaty dictates that Fae from the Underground must not enter the boundaries of Solas. Unfortunately for you, the Speir Crann has grown in the years
since this treaty was signed. While the tree used to be entirely contained within the village boundaries, the west-facing edge now protrudes over the boundary.”

  “How long did it take to find that loophole?” Meghan muttered to Avery.

  “But capturing and imprisoning a Light Fae? That is a clear violation of the treaty.” Avery glared at Lord Killian.

  “My son, you are not imprisoned. I merely wanted to extend a dinner invitation to you, to have a chance to meet my second-born.”

  “So, we can leave?” Meghan questioned. She did not trust him.

  “Avery, you are free to leave. Although, I hope you will consider the dinner invitation. It has been a long time.”

  “What about Meghan?”

  “Well, that is a far more interesting question. After studying the treaty, I realized humans are not mentioned at any point. It solely covers Fae-to-Fae relations. I am within my rights to hold the human.”

  Meghan trembled. Avery squeezed her hand.

  “That cannot be right!” Avery reached for the treaty, unwound it, and appeared to carefully review each line.

  Lord Killian took a long swallow from his glass. “You can blame your mother for the omission. I am sure you are aware of her prejudices against non-Fae. Her entire focus was, and has always been, on the village Fae.”

  Avery threw the treaty to the floor. “I will not leave without her.”

  “In that case, I suggest we sit down to dinner. My son, you are welcome to stay as an honored guest.” The corners of his mouth twitched in a half-smile. “Visitations are not outlawed by the treaty, as long as the other group is amenable to it and the Fae is of grown years.” He moved to the table and offered them chairs.

  Avery fumed. Meghan had never seen him so agitated before. What if he said something to anger Lord Killian? She was at fault for his predicament. She needed to keep him safe.

  Meghan pulled on Avery’s hand. “Why don’t we eat something? It’s been a while since our picnic.” Hopefully, the food was safe to eat.

  She took his hand and gently guided him to the table. Meghan was careful to sit on the opposite side from Lord Killian. Avery pulled his chair close to hers.

  “I would like to see my brother,” Avery said.

  Lord Killian scowled. “Kiernan is indisposed at the moment. He will not join us tonight due to his impairment.”

  Meghan’s stomach clenched. “What have you done to him?”

  “My dear, I have not done anything to him. You had the opportunity to give him a great gift. You had a chance to offer all of the Fae an endowment of sorts, a continuance of the species, with the gift of your blood. But you chose selfishness and self-interest. What has become of Kiernan rests on you.”

  Avery rose, picked up his glass, and threw it against the stone wall. Fragments flew, sprinkling the floor with sharp shards. “Let Meghan be!”

  She took his hand to pull him back into his seat, but he resisted, glaring at his father across the table.

  “It is unfortunate that you could not control your temper, my son. A threat to a Fae leader is in direct violation of the treaty. I am afraid that I must take proper safety precautions.”

  Lord Killian rang a bell, and Shade and Chaos entered. After murmured instructions from Lord Killian, they seized Avery by his arms and dragged him from the room.

  “Meg, I will come for you!” he called before the door slammed.

  Meghan began to sob. It was bad enough she was imprisoned, but worrying about Avery’s safety, as well, was too much.

  Lord Killian watched her from across the table. “I suggest that you visit Kiernan. You might find it enlightening to see what your resistance has done to him. I would hate to have the same thing happen to your other love interest.”

  “I can see him?”

  Lord Killian stood. “When Shade and Chaos return, they will take you to his… chambers.”

  *

  As Meghan entered the cell, she surveyed the dismal surroundings. Stark stone walls merged into a concrete floor, forming a prison which appeared as impenetrable as a fortress. The only exit was the heavy iron door. The cell was absent of windows, furnishings, and any other means of comfort. In the corner, Kiernan lay upon a thin dirty blanket.

  Her heart contracted as she rushed to kneel by his side. Meghan didn’t need the weeks she spent training with the faerie healer to know Kiernan was very ill. He lay on the floor, barely moving, his pale blue eyes looking at her in surprise.

  “Meghan.” His voice was half groan, half whisper. He lifted his neck and winced. “What are you doing here? Why did you come back?”

  “Why are you sick? What’s wrong? And why are you locked up?” They had so many questions for each other.

  Meghan placed her hand on his shoulder, slowly running her fingers down his arm. She noticed that his tattoos, which were normally vibrant and glistening, had dulled.

  “Your tattoos…”

  “My magic’s waning.”

  Meghan looked at him, her face contorting.

  “Father locked me up as a punishment for making decisions contrary to his orders,” he said. “But, I have made myself sick.”

  Kiernan made himself sick? Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Why? How?”

  He pulled himself into a seated position, slumped against the wall. “Do you remember that Fae are very sensitive to anything that doesn’t come from the Earth? That to live in the cities, with all of the metals, toxins, and chemicals, we need to alter ourselves so… so we aren’t poisoned.”

  “Drinking blood for the immunity.” She remembered, with mild regret, how she had stormed off after their last conversation.

  “Since I let you go, relinquishing my opportunity for life-long immunity, I needed much smaller daily… uh … drinks to tolerate the city toxins.” He closed his eyes, breathing heavily. “After visiting you, I made the decision to not… um… imbibe anymore.”

  Meghan blushed. “You’re not drinking blood anymore? And it’s making you this sick?”

  He nodded.

  “I don’t understand. Why would you make yourself ill? Why not just drink from one of the party chicks who hang out in the Underground?” She couldn’t help but feel happy that he was not imbibing from the many girls she remembered from the dance floor.

  It was Kiernan’s turn to blush. He fiddled with the blanket for a moment. “I could not stand to see the disgust on your face as we discussed the drainings.”

  “Me? You’re making yourself sick for me?”

  He strained to lift his head. Looking into Meghan’s eyes, he murmured, “Your conscience must have waltzed with mine. Besides, I need your respect if I’m going to properly court you.”

  She still wasn’t used to the modern urban faerie speaking the language of another century. Even at his weakest, his charm was impossible to resist. Did Kiernan really say he intended to court her? Why did her heart start racing hearing those words?

  Meghan realized that while he was being incredibly romantic, he also was making himself ill. “Kiernan, look at you! This isn’t working. You are so sick, and to lose your magic…”

  “My plan was to leave the Underground, but Father discovered my… fast and locked me in this dungeon. He has no tolerance for dissent; his own son rebelling was inexcusable.”

  She took his hand. They were all imprisoned: Kiernan, Avery, and herself. And what had happened to Wish?

  “I fear for you.” Kiernan shuddered. “Father was furious I didn’t drain you the first time he ordered. You were brought back so I could be forced to follow his commands. I wish our paths had never crossed, for I can’t protect you.”

  Meghan leaned against the cold stone of the wall, still holding his hand. Where on earth had her self-preservation skills gone? She was too calm. Maybe her composure came from trusting Kiernan. He didn’t want to hurt her and was as much a victim as she and Avery were.

  “Where is a diabolical plan when we need one?” she asked.

  “You have far too
good a heart to create anything diabolical. If only caring and kindness could get us out of this mess.”

  She caught her breath, an idea forming in her head. “You are brilliant!”

  “How is that going to help us right now?”

  Meghan looked down at her lap. She had a good idea, but how could she suggest it without spontaneously combusting in the heat of her embarrassment?

  “I’m intrigued by what is making you blush this much,” Kiernan said.

  Meghan studied a lengthy crack that ran along one wall, avoiding his gaze. “So, Lord Killian plans on forcing you to drain me.”

  “I think so.” He couldn’t meet her eyes, either.

  “Will being so weak make it harder to resist?” She slipped her hand into her pocket and rubbed the amulet.

  He nodded. “I will fight, even if he kills me.”

  She focused on her amulet and listened to her intuition. “Either way, one of us will get hurt badly. But, what if you had your strength and magic back?”

  “I would have more self-control, and with my magic, we might escape.” He sighed. “But even if I changed my vow, Father has forbidden any access to blood. I won’t regain my strength before the coming-of-age ceremony.”

  The draining ceremony… the thought made her brave enough to continue. The last time she was in the Underground, she had been a victim. She had been dragged back against her will, but perhaps she could take charge of something.

  “I’m here,” she murmured, her face blushing again.

  Kiernan’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “Are you suggesting…?”

  Meghan looked away, unable to meet his gaze. The heat radiated off her cheeks. She had never initiated anything like this. In high school, she couldn’t even start a conversation with a boy.

  “If I give you my blood, you would begin to feel stronger. And then, you could help us escape,” Meghan said.

  “It will take several days to regain my strength. There might not be enough time for me to heal before the ceremony.” Kiernan’s voice lowered. “And I cannot bear to hurt you again.”