A Throne of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales – B&tB Book 2)

Shadows draped across the path as I made it to the birch next to the everlass field in the Forbidden Wood. With the sun holding any demonic creatures at bay, I approached it with a scowl. As soon as I got close, out came the jig. Snitch.

“One day I’m going to bring my axe, and then how cheerful and zippy will you be, huh?”

Stop talking to a tree. It’s enchanted, not alive, my animal grumbled.

You could do with a little zip. How long do you plan on moping?

Until you pull your head out of your ass, screw it back on, and go get that alpha.

Would you stop bringing that up? It’s getting old.

Do you know what’s getting old? Your eggs. Best get that big alpha dick up in your cumquat so you won’t prove that red-headed wankstain right by dying old and alone.

I won’t be alone, I thought cheerfully. I have you. And what a delight you are.

As I passed the shaking birch, the most delicious smell caught my attention. All my senses snapped taut as it slithered across my skin and soaked into my body. I groaned, recognizing it immediately. Intimately. Pine and lilac and a hint of honeysuckle. It spoke of lazy afternoons with sex hair and oversized T-shirts. Of fingertips gently grazing bare skin. Of hard bites while soaked in exquisite pleasure.

I turned toward it slowly, attuned to the feeling it evoked in me. Melting even as I breathed it in.

Nyfain had been here. Recently.

Within a thick bush at the base of the birch, I could just make out a rectangular package wrapped tightly in waxy material. Bright yellow. With my animal’s power, I could largely see in the dark using a white, black, and yellow color spectrum. This would stand out, even at night, especially if I were also using my animal’s increased sense of smell. The covering would prevent any sort of weather getting at whatever was inside, and coarse brown string kept it closed.

My animal pushed not so patiently for me to get inside the package.

I unslung my knapsack from my shoulder before reaching into the bush and hooking two fingers through the string. I pulled it to me, sliding it across the ground.

Hurry, my animal whispered.

I pulled an end of the string and watched the bow fall away. Pushing the rest of the string off, I then peeled back the material, one side at a time. A folded piece of parchment waited atop a leather-bound book.

My heart surged. Excitement shot through me, and I grinned like an idiot.

What is it, a book? my animal asked in confusion.

It’s something magical.

I unfolded the parchment first. To maximize anticipation, you should always read the card before opening the present.

Dear Finley,

I apologize for how I left. I knew if I’d given you the choice, you would’ve made me stay for a few more days. My duty forbids it, but I wouldn’t have been able to resist you. As it was, I could barely control my dragon. That was why I put you to sleep. The struggle with him would’ve woken the whole house. Then I would’ve been at your mercy.

You have become my greatest weakness.

After this correspondence, we can sever all non-urgent ties, communicating only about creating and distributing the elixir that nulls the effects of the demon-spawned sickness. Before that, however, there are some promises I must keep.

1) On the next sheet, I have created a table indicating when it will be safe for you to travel to this field. As long as I breathe, I will clear the way for you. Certain parts of the moon cycle are too dangerous, but most nights after a certain hour you will be safe. Please pass by the birch so that I know you are in residence, and if I suspect danger is near, I will come to your aid. It is my duty as your prince (don’t sass me about it).

2) I will continue to tend this field for your use (I have always tended it for your use). Please see that your village is fully supplied with whatever they need.

3) Please send me any questions you may have about the everlass plants, and I will supply whatever information I may. Soon you will have no more need of me in that regard, but until then, I am at your service. My mother would’ve insisted.

4) A peace offering is enclosed. Take it for as long as you need. Forever, if you’d like. It’s my favorite story of late, about escaping prison and exacting vengeance. I’m sure you can relate. If you’d like more books, fiction and nonfiction alike, just let me know and I will bring them. I will be your personal library until you are settled elsewhere.

Yours truly,

N

I let out a long, slow breath.

I didn’t quite know how to feel. He was still taking care of me, just doing it in a way that didn’t require direct communication. How the hell was I going to forget him if I knew I would alert him every time I came to this field? Every time I asked for a type of book (because I was going to use the hell out of that library)? Every time my way was clear at night? Whenever I walked through the everlass, I’d be able to smell him. I’d imagine him walking through the tidy rows, singing to them and touching their leaves. How was this going to work?

It won’t. Go to him.

“Oh goddess, please shut this fucking animal up,” I bit out, feeling the heavy volume and holding it to my chest. “A new book,” I whispered, half forgetting why I was here in the first place.

But seriously, a new book I hadn’t read yet? That hadn’t happened in…a very long time. I couldn’t wait to open it.

“Maybe just a peek,” I murmured, pulling open the cover. I gritted my teeth and pushed it back down. “No. Mustn’t. Must do work…”

I pulled the healing supplies for Nyfain out of my knapsack, wrapped them into the yellow cover, and stashed it back into the bush. His note went into the knapsack. The book should’ve gone with it, but I couldn’t bear to part with it yet. He’d said it was his favorite of late. That meant he wasn’t just protective of his library because it belonged to him—he enjoyed reading, too.

As if the man needed to be any sexier.

“What was up with the formal-sounding letter?” I murmured, clutching the book to my chest as I headed into the everlass field. “His handwriting is super elegant, too.”

He’s a prince, my animal thought, and it was a sobering reminder that his education and childhood had been different than mine.

Finally, grudgingly, I put the book in my knapsack, pulled out my crossbody tweed bag that I used to carry the everlass leaves, and got to work in the everlass field, harvesting leaves and checking his pruning work. That done, I took the leaves I needed and went on my way. I had a book to read.

The next day, I could barely keep my eyes open as I worked the leaves. I’d just intended to read a couple chapters. Then just until the exciting bit slowed down. Then…

Before I knew it, the sun was peeking through the window and the book was finished. It had been a wild ride, filled with treachery, sword fights, escape, and vengeance. The happy ending had been fantastic, and I couldn’t wait to read it again. Nyfain had chosen well.

“Finley…” Hannon popped out of the back door before looking down at the metal tins and buckets arrayed around me. “What are you doing?”

“Nyfain is making good on his promises, so I need to make good on mine. I’m making elixirs.” I pointed at a metal canister with a red stripe. “I have the demon sex magic-be-gone draught for the people in the palace.” Although they hadn’t been beset by the sickness, time had stilled for them. They didn’t age, they couldn’t have children, and they lived at the mercy of demons who’d sexually twisted them. I pointed at the metal canister with the blue stripe. “Nulling elixir for the other villages. The potency will wear off because of the travel time, but that can’t be helped. Plus, there’s more salve and healing stuff for him…”

“How are you going to transport all of that? How is he going to?”

“I’ll stow everything in a big bag for his dragon’s mouth. Might take a few trips, but it’ll be fine.”

He gave me a flat stare. “I told you so.”

“He’s not playing games. He really is making good on his promises.”

“Whatever happened to you hating him?”

I scowled. “Don’t worry. Give me five minutes in his presence, and I’m sure I will go right back to hating him. His personality is hard to take.”

“Uh-huh. Well, you should check on Dad. He’s plateauing. He’s weak as a kitten and groggy, but that’s to be expected, given how long he was on the brink.”

“I checked on him earlier. There are no visible signs of the sickness, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there in small amounts. It’s impossible to tell if he’s been cured without more time. I’m going to work on a weaker elixir tomorrow for Old Man Fortety down the street. He’s not nearly as far along as Dad, and he’s been asking all his neighbors to just kill him off before he starts wetting the bed. I figure he’ll let me try out a new concoction on him if I promise it might finally end his suffering. I just won’t tell him which type of suffering I mean.”

Hannon cracked a smile. “Wise. What time are you headed to the field tonight?”

My pulse fluttered. “Not sure. I need to check Nyfain’s chart. Late, though. I’ll go to bed early.”

A night bird cried out a warning as I worked my way through the Forbidden Wood. Gnarled trees lurked in the darkness, shadowy shapes hunkering by the small trail. Stars crowded the sky, but a slice of pale moon only gave weak light. My animal was right near the surface, helping me discern any dangers that might be hiding nearby. So far, Nyfain had stayed true to his word. The way was clear.

The enchanted birch rose in front of me, and everything in me said to go around it. It had been drilled into my head from an early age that to set foot in this wood was death. To get out was lucky. The tree’s habit of shaking like some clown on drugs was not great for my comfort level. But Nyfain had said he’d run to help if he thought I was in danger. Plus, I had a shiny new dagger, thirsty for demon creature blood. Or maybe that was just my animal.

The tree started up like a dancing girl trying to shake her boobs out of her dress as I ducked around it and darted to the bush. Nyfain’s smell zinged through me, heavy in the area. It wasn’t as fresh as it had been yesterday, but it was more plentiful. He’d lingered.

I reached into the bush and then yanked my hand back. The yellow package had been filled again.

Biting my lip, suppressing a smile, I hooked my fingers through the brown string and carefully dragged it out. I pulled at the end and then disentangled it off the package. Another parchment lay folded up inside, over an additional leather-bound book. My stomach fluttered.

His writing was not nearly so delicate this time. A bit of a mess, really, as though he’d brought the supplies and written it here, crouched down next to the bush.

Dear Finley,

I remembered seeing a romance novel in your house, grouped with the book on our people’s history and poison trees, and wondered if maybe action/adventure wasn’t within your interests. I therefore brought you a book from my mother’s section of the library.

Such stories were not allowed by my father, so it was essential they be kept in a secret room accessed by a hidden door. They were snuck in from travelers, sold to her by merchants in whispered deals, sent by her sisters, and pulled from libraries in the villages. She now has quite the collection.

I have not read any of them. Should you wish to provide some guidance, I’d be happy to explore them with you. I’ll choose something for you, and you can choose something for me. Attached is a sampling of titles. If you recognize any good ones, I’ll start there. We can compare notes, if you’d like. Scholar to scholar, as it were.

If I may be so bold, I’d like to inquire after your father.

Yours truly,

-N

I pulled out this volume and noticed there was extra parchment and a fountain pen stashed beneath it. I smiled to myself and pulled it out, sitting back against the birch, whose antics had simmered down, and spread a piece of parchment over the smooth surface of the book.

Dear Dickhead N,

Lovely to hear from you. My father is doing well, actually. Really well! I took what I learned from you and applied it to what ails him. He’s weak and a little muddled, but speaking well, not coughing, and awake. If not a cure, it is at least a huge advancement. We’ll keep watching him to see. So I may have a way to slow the progress of the sickness and bring people back from the brink of death. Only time will tell whether there is a cure in the mix. I’m about to try the crowded nulling elixir on my neighbor, so we’ll see if I’m a healer or a murderer.

In my other letter, I detailed the purpose of the enclosed elixirs and how to make them. These are samples of each. I have more, but they were too heavy to bring all at once.

Now, on to important matters. I’ve already finished the book you lent but intend to do a reread. It’s very exciting!!! (I nearly put four exclamation points, but there wasn’t even a little romance, so that diminished my excitement just a smidge.) I like all books, so if you have any about poison mushrooms or anything, those are great, too. I just don’t get through them as quickly as fiction.

Anyway, more info about the stuff I brought (my letters clearly aren’t so organized as yours—I didn’t have princely training). I do better when I can do at least eight one rough draft. I hope you will bare with me.

Some very dense people in my village have worked off the directions, so I have high hopes that the healers in the other villages can work it out. This is the safer nulling elixir. It won’t kill anyone. For the other, I would prefer to be present, since there are still so many unknowns. I’m not sure whether I can just travel to other villages? I know in the past people would die for trying, but in the past you couldn’t cross the magical boundary, either. It seems ridiculous that no one does if they can. Or maybe they just never come to our village, and no one from the other villages wants us? That certainly seems likely, given the frosty reception I received after I followed you the other morning.

My animal is not amused by whatever you did to the connection, by the way, which I didn’t realize was a thing. She has been a surly cunt ever since, and if I told her that, she’d thank me for the kind words. That’s how mad she is. It’s probably a good thing I can’t shift, or she would surely take over and do something crazy, like find you and fuck your brains out, or burn down the castle. It’s really hard to know with her. I think she’s crazy.

I took a moment to glance at his list of books, twenty in all, and only eight I recognized.

I’ve placed numbers beside the books that I know. It’s a riddle. Choose the one that you think I want you to read first, and read that one. Give me your favorite scene. I’ll then know if you chose the right book.

As the other note says, I’ve left some stuff for your very many wounds. I saw how much blood you lost. I’ve put something in the bag for that as well. Take care of yourself. You can’t let your duty kill you. I think that’s my animal’s job after the stunt you pulled. Stay healthy so she can claim a little vengeance, will you?

I sat with the pen in my hand, thinking about what else I could say. What else I might want to tell him, or get him to tell me. I didn’t want this to be the end of the conversation—I also didn’t want to use up all of our topics in one go.

With that in mind, I took a chance.

Since you are fulfilling all your duties, I find myself remiss (is that the right word? I’m second-guessing myself) in taking care of your mother’s garden. So, if you aren’t too busy, maybe wade through there and cut out all the plants that don’t belong. The vines, for a start. What the hell are they doing in there? The blackberry bushes are out of control. Those need to go. Weeds, obviously. You know, help out a little. Hadriel can assist you. He’ll hate it, but he needs something to do in my absence besides shame-fuck. He’ll thank me eventually.

Warmest regards,

Finley

The birch shook when I left, and I had a smile on my face all the way home.

The next day I went back in the afternoon, carrying more canisters. I knew it was probably too early to hope for a return note, but I figured I could add at least more canisters to the bag. A dragon could carry much more than I could. Besides, I wanted a few more crowded plant leaves so I could start experimenting. I’d also written out a bunch of questions about everlass for Nyfain.

At the birch, his smell caught me again, snapping my focus taut and sending a zip of fire through my body. It was recent and potent, deliciously curling through my senses and wetting my panties. My animal purred in delight, and I wondered just what had created the extra depth to his scent.

Dear Finley,

I enjoyed the sarcasm in your first sentence immensely. It really ruined made my night. I carried on reading with a scowl glow.

I spat out a laugh, settling back against the shaking birch to read.

First, and most importantly, your father’s convalescence is fantastic news! I am so proud of you. I wish we could go back in time, because you would’ve been crowned as the best plant worker in the kingdom, I have no doubt. You and my mother would have had so much to talk about.

Consequently, why do you call him “Father” and your mother “Mom”? I picked up on that at your cottage but drugged your family and skulked off into the night before I could ask (…is that joke too soon?).

I am sure you will heal your neighbor, but if you turn murderer, I have heard that blaming cats can be useful in getting out of it. Hadriel provided that anecdote. I’m not quite sure how it will help get you off the hook, and in truth, at the time he offered the information, he was hanging upside down by one ankle in a costume I am pretty sure was meant to mock me, whilst heavily intoxicated. Nevertheless, it bears looking into.

Since we are on the subject of spelling mistakes, when you hoped I would “bare with you,” it put a very different spin on the meaning. Soon thereafter, I read your favorite book on that list—the numbers I took to mean the number of times you had read them?

I giggled as I read, nodding. He’d figured it out.

Eighteen is quite a lot. After I read it, though, I think I understand. I’d love to see the physical book you have handled. I assume some pages have seen more wear than others, specifically the scene in which the couple is forced to escape the (rather tame) villain on horseback. I wondered why the author would have them outrun the villain so easily. And then we got the descriptions of his hands slowly gliding up her (milky) thighs and firmly palming her (luscious) breasts, and I began to understand.

I have never made love to a woman on horseback, but I am now desperate to try. The idea of a canter (probably a trot, actually—this author didn’t seem to be an equestrian) pounding my cock deeper and harder into her tight, wet pussy is one I haven’t been able to get out of my mind as I…bare with you. Wouldn’t it be fun to try out the sex scenes explored in detail in the pages of your favorite novels? I wonder if I could give you (<—oops) someone as many orgasms as these heroes give their ladies. Likely not, but I am ever ready to learn. Given our current hopeless situation, I’ll have to continue rigorously fucking myself instead. I seem to be getting worse at it, though, because I’ve been needing to do it more and more frequently. Maybe I should take a break from novels with passion and explore a book about bodies of water instead. Namely, cold baths.

Now who is babbling via parchment…

I twisted my legs together and fanned myself. Even when talking about deliciously crude sex scenes, he was well spoken. It was insane. The author of these letters did not sound like the gruff, rough-and-tumble, scarred beast I’d met and constantly fought with. It was like two different people.

Though I did remember the guy from the everlass field. The guy who’d opened up about his mom and easily worked past my angry defenses. That guy was fun to talk with. He was interesting and engaging.

Even that guy, though, hadn’t been this eloquent. He hadn’t sounded this regal. And while normally that might bother me…somehow, right now, it didn’t. He was almost too charming to exist in this twisted version of real life.

If I had to guess, however, the horse-riding scene was not your favorite. Women would usually enjoy the declaration of love from the emotionally stunted hero. But given what I know of you, I wonder instead if it isn’t when the hero falls down into the pit (miraculously without breaking a limb or his head) and the heroine outsmarts the trap and saves him. That sounds more like your speed.

My grin spread wider. He had me. That was a pretty epic scene. It was when the hero stopped treating her like she was breakable, and they started working as a team. It made the action more exciting and the sex scenes hotter. Still, the horse-riding scene was a close second. I wasn’t going to lie. I’d also always wanted to try it.

After reading A Journey to Wastrel, I understand why Breakout lost one exclamation point for its lack of romance. Thank you for opening my eyes. I see now that there is always room to squeeze in some fucking. I, myself, need at least some semblance of believable action and villainy. I’m going to say it was very good indeed!!!

Shall I just continue through the list, starting with the books you’ve read most? Or would you like to adjust my next read to account for my (likely subpar) tastes?

As for your next read, I’ve included it here. I’m interested to see what you think of the romance subplot. I’ve also brought you a book on dogs. I find them utterly useless, but I have been told (lately by a very drunk Hadriel) that I am a heartless bastard. However, most shifters do not like dogs, especially wolf shifters, unless they are of a certain power. Your village has the most dogs of all the villages, I believe, and that’s only…five or so, right?

Regarding the connection between us/our animals…

It’s hard to know what to say. You say your animal is a surly cunt? Mine’s a violent prick whom I wish would just fuck off. If it wouldn’t doom the kingdom, I’d shove him so far down that the curse would probably take hold and suppress him as it ought. Suffice it to say, it wasn’t his choice to break the connection, and he’s been driving me mental. But I stand by what I did. You need to be free of me, Finley, for your own good. That’s the only way you’ll get a happy ending. Any idiot can see that. Protecting you means staying away from you. You’ll see the truth of that in time. Until then, we have randy letters and fast, furious self-fucking to get us through our days.

Thank you for the elixirs and healing supplies. I will be passing those on as soon as I study the contents. You say your villagers are dense, but you are there to help them. You have no idea what the other villages are working with. And no, no one crosses between villages. Since the demons killed so many early on, everyone stays separated and with their heads down now. We don’t have the ability to fight back. Only a few sneak out to meet me on a regular basis, always during the day, hoping it goes unnoticed. Lately it has. Hopefully that remains.

“First we heal,” I murmured to myself, “then we’ll have numbers to fight.”

Thank you for looking after me. It means a lot that you’d brave my temper and try to heal me after my treatment of you. Maybe the ointments will stop the flow of scars onto my skin. Though I’m not sure there is much of a point. I am every bit as much of a monster as I appear to be. My days of vanity are long since done.

I would be remiss if I didn’t diligently follow your landscaping demands (you had the use of remiss right). Hadriel and I will begin tearing out the plants you’ve advised, and I’ll ask for more guidance once finished. I’ll have a drawing made up of each stage of our progress to ensure we are on the right track.

By the by, I don’t know whether you’ve discerned as much, but when my father was particularly angry with me, I spent time in that tower bedroom. Sometimes I was locked in there for days with only the servants for company (and they were only allowed to bring me food or bathe me). My mother used to work in her garden a lot during those times so that I could look down at her and not feel so alone, a service I, apologetically, didn’t render to you. She had the wall constructed around her garden so that my father, passing by in the grass, wasn’t the wiser. It killed me to lock you up in that tower. But I couldn’t risk those demons infiltrating your mind and bending you to their will. I meant to apologize before now, but our discourse always resulted in fighting and then your tits or pussy in my mouth. So, for what it’s worth, I am sorry about that.

Please stay safe. I think my dragon would work out a way to kill me if I let harm come to you.

I look forward to your book recommendations.

Your truly,

Dickhead

N

I sat with his letter for a while, not able to ignore my aching heart or the fire in my body. I didn’t think I could compose a letter right now. Not after that. His apology and confession about the tower…

His delicious sexual comments…

His gratitude and the admissions about his dragon…

It was all so much to unpack.

I didn’t want to leave him hanging, though. I didn’t want him to think he’d overstepped. I definitely didn’t want to stop this communication. Plus, night was creeping in quickly.

Dear Desperate to Fuck While Riding a Horse,

I need to get out of here. I just came to drop off more supplies and grab a few crowded plant leaves. I’ll report back later tonight with a more thorough letter. Sleep is for dogs and other creatures you hate for no reason.

Yourssssss truly (this is me pointing out your previous error, in case it is confusing you),

Finley

P.S. My favorite part was definitely when he got stuck in the pit. Do not ruin that scene for me with semantics. It’s fantasy. Sometimes you need a little make-believe to ensure a horrible fall doesn’t kill the hero so that horse fucking is possible.

P.P.S. Goddess strike me down, I meant fucking on a horse. Definitely a no to horse fucking.

P.P.P.S. I hate this fucking birch.

—Oh and I’ll get that worn-in book for you. It’s a library book, though, so you’ll need to swap it for your copy. Probably for the best, because I have a feeling you’ll be picturing me someone in the scenes and practicing your self-fucking while reading it. I don’t want to subject other book borrowers to your sticky jizz pages.

The end of the letter has now officially come.

I hurried away with the new books and letter stored in my knapsack, along with more crowded everlass leaves. I needed to get that book for Nyfain. I also needed to read the ones he’d passed to me. Damn life for getting in the way of my new books!

I wondered what Nyfain would think of the next book on the list. If he’d thought of me in that last one, he’d definitely think of me in the next one. The main couple’s relationship was turbulent, and they always ended up hate-fucking. It was the book I still had at home.

Probably time for a reread.