King of Merits: A Fae Romance (Black Blood Fae Book 3)

Merri

Over the next seven days, Thorne’s extensive hunts throughout the city and surrounds uncover nothing and nobody. All traces of the being who followed us a sennight ago have been wiped clean from the land, and even the Unseelie king has been unable to uncover a single clue.

Meanwhile, I’ve spent my days traipsing about the castle dressed in finery, joining every activity I chanced upon in the hope that someone would disclose the location of the druid’s well.

I’ve spent hours in the Meritorium, feigning interest in Lidwinia and Elas’s work and asking leading questions.

I attended tea parties, dances, magical discussion groups, herb gathering excursions, and even cloth dying sessions held by the light weaver elves in the dressmaker’s tower.

As a result, I collected tips on Merit dance styles, herbal lore, dark spell casting, and cloth weaving with metallic fibers but not one scrap of information about the location of the druid’s well or when the king usually visits it.

The last two nights, I invoked a weak veiling spell, donned my trader’s disguise, grabbed a stolen quiver and bow, and searched the city high and low for the curse. Not once did I sense a location where it might be kept, which leads me to believe that it’s definitely somewhere in the druid’s well—wherever that may be.

Why didn’t I ask Isla where this mysterious well is located? She’s been there, seen the scrying fountain with her own eyes, and I’m a fool for not thinking of this before I rushed from the Land of Five without a proper plan.

Currently, it’s day three of my search of the Merit City, and I’ve almost given up hope of ever finding the curse. The last thing I want is to have to ask Riven where it’s hidden, but as each day passes, it’s looking like I’ll have no other choice.

With my shoulders slumped, I head to the walled garden that’s recently become a refuge, my boots scraping along the path. I breathe a sigh as I push open the wrought-iron gate, slump on the dark crystal bench, and let the hood of my traveler’s cloak fall to my shoulders.

This garden is a peaceful place. Blood-red roses ramble over obsidian-lined walls and creep up trees, winding around branches. Today, seven ravens croak from the wall’s ledge, preening each other’s feathers.

Sometimes, the deceased king’s clockwork cat, Meyet, visits at the same time as me, and I watch him leap through the garden with the wild faery cats. But, so far, I’m yet to see another fae here.

At the moment, there aren’t any noisy felines present, and I’m free to lie on the bench, close my eyes, and recall the interesting seating plans of recent court dinners—Summer beside Lidwinia and Elas and me on the king’s right.

Lately, Riven has been polite, civil, and sometimes even smiles at my bad jokes. But if he knew what I’ve been up to, gallivanting around his town in search of Merit secrets, he’d probably lock me in my chambers and throw away the key—even the score between us.

Only once in my late-night expeditions did I feel the presence of the spy outside the Meritorium. Excitement vibrating inside me, I drew my sword and called the creature forth, but the cowardly being stayed hidden. And I remained safe.

In truth, I’d have preferred to fight, exposing the infiltrator’s identity and myself as much more than a helpless, spoiled Seelie princess.

“I don’t care what the surly Silver King thinks of me,” I say to the puffy clouds gathering in the sky.

I blow dandelion seeds into the air, and they swirl and form the shape of a tall, jagged crown, beautiful to behold. Damn Riven again.

A loud screech from above makes me jolt upright, and a rough voice says, “Meerade cares about king.”

Squinting into the oak tree, I see Riven’s owl swaying on a low branch. “Hello, Meerade,” I say. “How long have you been hovering up there?”

“Long time.” Her head bobs twice as she stretches her wings. “Queen, come. Time to find the message you seek. Come now. Come.”

I cock my head. “You want me to follow you?”

She bounces on the branch. “Come. Come!”

“Where to exactly?”

“Secrets hide in Riven’s well. Old secrets time to tell. Meerade show the Silver Queen.”

“Queen Ciara has been dead a long time, Meerade. It’s best you accept that and stop calling everyone who crosses your path a queen.”

“Only one is queen. Come. Come!” The owl screeches and flies over the wall, and I hurry through the garden gate and follow her.

Before long, we’re trekking down narrow passageways at the rear of the castle. After a time, we come to a small landing with a door hidden in the wall. Meerade settles on my shoulder and presses a triangular recess in the bricks. The door opens, and we pass through it, then follow the stairs downward.

In the claustrophobic passages, the air is damp and musky, but, finally, the ceiling grows taller, and I can breathe a little easier. We turn a sharp corner, and a large stack of boulders at least three times my height blocks the path forward.

I peek through a tight gap in the rock wall into an enormous cavern of sparkling limestone, the space lit by torches burning on four sconces. The infamous druid’s well is a cave beneath the castle!

“Meerade,” I say. “Is Riven likely to come here soon? If he finds me in this place, I’m as good as dead. Or at the very least, banished forever.”

Metallic feathers clink as her wings flap beside my head, and she drops to the ground. “Go inside,” she tells me, hopping through the gap in the rocks.

As soon as I follow Meerade through the tight space, she flies to the quartz column that grows from an island of rough stone into a chest-height well and lands on its edges. “Come quickly!”

Wasting no time, I pad through ankle-deep water that floods the bottom of the cave, glad that I’m wearing boots. All is silent except for the eerie echo of water dripping from the ceiling.

With my heart pounding, I lean over the well and peer into the glowing surface of silver liquid, praying for something to happen. I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Meerade hops onto my shoulder and bores her gaze into the side of my head. But, still, the magical well does nothing.

I look around the cavern, spending an agreeable few moments picturing the Silver King prowling about his lair before I lose patience.

“All right, Meerade. So, I’m here, but how am I meant to find the hidden curse?”

“Look down. Look,” she demands, pecking lightly at my ear.

I squint harder, my breath agitating the mercurial water and forming loose swirls across it. “There’s nothing to see.”

“Ask. Ask!” says the owl on my shoulder.

“Ask?”

I’d imagined the curse would be carved on a tablet and buried underneath earth and stone, not as words floating on the surface of a well. But if there’s the slightest chance that asking might reveal it, then for my family’s sake, I’m prepared to beg.

I grip the edges of the well and close my eyes, summoning what little power I have. “Ancient waters and enlightened druids, I beg you to show me the location of the Seelie curse, wrought by Aer that poisons the blood of the Elemental line. Where shall I seek it? Show me now and show me true.”

Wind whips through the cavern, tearing at my hair and buffeting my body. Meerade releases a deafening screech. “Look, look!” she says.

I open my eyes. Familiar words drift along the surface of the well, the Black Blood curse in dark curling letters. I quickly read the verse about our princes, how they must marry the chosen ones selected by the curse maker, Aer, or succumb to a slow and painful death.

Then the section that my family believes to be the final verse appears:

“If by another’s hand the chosen dies, then before their blood fully weeps and dries, black will fade to gray, gray to white, and white to never. Never was the darkest taint and never will it ever be.”

A green film clouds the water, the words dissolving.

“Is that it? I know this part already, Meerade. It’s the secret verse I need to find.”

“Patience,” croaks the owl.

I swallow a groan and wait.

Condensation falls from the stalactites above.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

My heart thuds against my ribs.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Then it happens—the water clears and more words appear.

I read them aloud in a low, shaky voice.

“A halfling defies the…” Words catch in my throat, and I gape at Meerade, hardly able to believe what I’m reading.

“Go on,” she says.

I take a breath, and then try again.

“A halfling defies the Silver King.

From dark to light, her good heart brings.

Enemies unite. Two courts now one,

Should merry win, the curse is done.

Not Faery born,

But human sworn,

One celestial day,

She’ll wear his ring.”

The room spins around me, blood rushing through my veins. “Incredible! It could almost be about Riven and me. But that…that can’t be possible…me and Riven—how could we cure the curse? I must’ve read it wrong.”

Silently, Meerade grooms my hair with her beak, lightly nipping the point of my ear.

I swipe her face away. “But right there as plain as the dirt beneath my nails, the words state, should Merry win—all right, all right, so my name is spelled wrong, but which other halfling could it be referring to? And if it is me, what exactly am I meant to win in order to end the curse? A battle with whichever fae or creature I’ve dreamed will one day kill Riven?”

“No. No,” Meerade says. “King’s heart. King’s heart.”

“The king’s heart? Are you suggesting that me and Riven… Do you mean…” My words trail off as the ground trembles.

Stalactites break from the ceiling and spear the ground, forming a cage of glittering spikes around me. Hair curtains my face as I bow over the well and grip the edges tighter, not daring to turn around because I already know what I’ll see.

“King comes. Meerade go now. Not want trouble, Queen. Meerade not want trouble.” She rotates her head and stares over her shoulder in that alarming way owls do.

“You really must stop calling me queen,” I scold. “I’ve told you many times; I’m a princess of the Land of Five. A princess, understand?”

“Princess for now.” With those disturbing words, Meerade wriggles between the limestone bars and swoops out via the tunnel we entered through.

On the other side of the cave, Riven materializes, first as a shadowy ghost who quickly solidifies into the formidable Silver King, a terrible storm brewing in his eyes.

“Amazing,” I say, forcing calm into my voice. “Transferring is very cool, wish I had that ability.”

“Cool? The temperature has nothing to do with it.”

Oh. Of course, my Earth slang would make no sense to him. “Where my mother comes from, that’s a compliment.” Instead of appeasing him, this insight appears to make him angrier, and a silver-black aura glows around his body.

“What in the Blood Sun are you doing here, Merrin? I made Lidwinia vow never to tell you about this place and—”

“Please don’t involve your sister. It wasn’t her who led me here.”

“Then who was it?”

Biting my lip, I remain silent. I don’t want to betray the darling, title-confused owl.

Riven’s eyes close, his head dropping back toward his shoulders. “Meerade,” he growls.

I hold his gaze as he stomps toward me, the water underneath his boots reacting like hard stone. His hand swipes the air between us, and my stalactite prison disappears.

A muscle in Riven’s jaw ticks as he stands with his arms folded, brooding silently.

Taking a calculated risk, I decide to pretend everything’s normal. “Well, you’re in a charming mood today.”

“I’ve just found you snooping in my private space, a sanctuary that’s sacred to both me and my people. What did you expect, applause or me to offer you a goblet of my finest stag’s tear wine?”

“A drink would certainly be nice. I wouldn’t say no.”

“Why did Meerade bring you here?”

My fingers burrow into the folds of my tunic, squeezing and twisting the fabric. I could make up an excuse. I could lie. But I won’t. “I’m looking for the answer to the Black Blood curse. And I found it in your scrying well.”

A subtle vibration passes over Riven’s body, his eyes wild. “You found it?”

“Yes.” I take a big breath, then chance another risk. “It says that together, you and I can end the curse and bring peace to our lands. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Peace?”

His lips compress, and he vibrates harder, fists clenched against his sides.

I’m tired of pretending this man means nothing to me, exhausted by constantly suppressing my feelings.

Riven na Duinn is the fae I long for in my dreams and tempts me like no other. And now, the curse has confirmed our combined destiny—who and what we are to each other.

A soft breeze tickles my palms as I lift them, raise a small squall and throw it at Riven. It flaps his black tunic against his legs, the silver threads on the thick material glowing brighter and brighter. It tears his hair, rippling it out like moonlit ocean waves.

“Come closer,” I whisper, compelling him. Demanding it.

“What are you doing?” he bites out.

“Showing you I’m not the weak halfling you’ve decided I am. Even here in your kingdom, I have power. Power over you.”

With one long step, his body is flush with mine, his palms bracketing my cheeks. “I’ve never thought you weak, Merrin. Not once.”

My heart dances as his lips lower to mine, not touching, not quite. He sighs against my mouth, and then he’s kissing me. I part my lips, not participating yet because I want him to know that he chose this. That he started it. Not me.

Then he presses closer, his fingers burrowing into my hair, taking hold and twisting it. With a gasp, I kiss him back, losing control of my magic as the wind whirls faster around us, the sound of a hurricane in my ears.

“Merrin,” he says between kisses. “Your gale will knock us over.”

I break away with a smothered laugh. “Sorry.” I click my fingers, and the wind falls away. “The curse… Riven, do you think it’s about us? You and me, together like this, perhaps we can…”

He sighs, his palms holding my face and calloused thumb stroking my lower lip. “The druid’s well has been wrong before. When Rafael and Isla were imprisoned here, it showed me images of the old Queen of Five dying, and I knew I had to help your king escape before your land was left without a ruler. But Varenus still lives. Besides, what you speak of is impossible. If I could control you, things might be different.”

My jaw drops with an audible click. “What did you say? Control me?”

“I have racked my brain and tortured myself but come to the resolution that there will never be enough magic in all of the seven realms with which to govern you. What am I to do with you, Merri?”

Ice-cold anger melts the warmth in my belly. I grip his wrists and shove his hands away. “I’m disappointed, Riven. I never imagined your mind was so small that you’d ever wish to control a girl. You’re not a king. You’re a fraud. Why bother kissing me if that’s what you think?”

“You don’t understand. Your very presence compels me to kiss you. But mark my words, if we walk this path, one of us will be the ruination of the other. This outcome is inevitable. I’ve seen it happen in the scrying well over and over, and that’s why I wish to control you, Merrin. If I could have you and find a way to contain your power to keep you from fulfilling the foretold destiny, then I would kiss you again and again. Otherwise, I cannot trust you with my kingdom. Your parents are my father’s sworn enemy. Your queen caused the death of my brother.”

“You hated your father, and that worm Temnen deserved to fry! And it wasn’t our queen who plunged the sword into his heart. Surely you know who it was.” The name of his sister presses against my lips.

“I don’t want to lessen your power for my pleasure. I only want to prevent you from betraying me as the visions predict. If I risk involvement with you, in time, I would no longer see you clearly and, therefore, place my kingdom in peril. Indeed, I would lose sight of myself.”

“So, you’re saying you like me, but you don’t trust me.”

He nods.

Lightning courses through me, anger exploding out of my palm as I strike Riven’s face.

Breathing roughly, he touches his cheek but says nothing.

“That’s right, I slapped you. Do you know how insulting your words are? In the depths of your heart, do you truly believe I’m capable of causing harm to anyone in your kingdom?”

“Not intentionally, of course, but…” Jaw clenching, he rubs the side of his face, his hair rippling like liquid silver.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” I ask. “Something you’re not telling me.”

The cavern floor becomes a thing of great fascination to him.

“Look at me, Riven, and say it,” I snap.

Ocean eyes lift, seven realms of pain swimming in their depths. “No matter how strongly I’m drawn to you, these facts remain—you’re half human and could never be the Queen of Merits. Why should I waste time, perhaps grow attached to you, when nothing good could ever come of it?”

Pain twists deep in my chest. “You can’t be serious. Your brother, Temnen, tried to wed Isla, a full-blooded human! She could have become a Merit princess and maybe even a queen if your father’s schemes for him to replace you as the Merit heir had been successful.”

One side of his lips twists into a cruel smile. “Never. Temnen was toying with Isla only to torture Rafael. I assure you he had no intention of marrying her himself.”

I stab a finger near his face. “Then you’re small minded. Prejudiced. And I couldn’t be more disappointed in you.”

“I’m simply a realist. Your blood is tainted. Your humanity makes you weak and unstable.”

“And, therefore, unworthy of you.”

His eyes darken. “I did not say that. Nonetheless, all fae believe humans are the weaker race. How can you not understand this?”

Seeking calm, I draw a slow breath. “It’s you who doesn’t comprehend me or the world in which you live. My humanity drives me to prove myself, to be my best self. And being half-human gives me a greater reason to be steadfast and true. My otherness makes me more worthy, not less, and if you can’t see this, then I say good riddance to you, Riven na Duinn.”

All my life in Faery, I’ve felt like a royal fraud. But as I speak these words of self-belief, I know that deep down they’re true. I wholeheartedly believe them. So, I’m at least thankful to Riven for helping me make this discovery.

For a fleeting moment, I consider showing him my gratitude with a punch to his perfect nose. But, no, he’s not worth the sore knuckles.

I walk backward toward the tunnel, away from him and his horrible, sorrow-filled eyes. “Perhaps one day you’ll be brave and choose happiness, take what you want. Maybe you won’t. But this much is clear, our dreams unite our fates. Until the day of reckoning, I ask you to stay away from me.”

“Merri, please understand I don’t say these things to hurt you. If I ignore the truth and follow my desires, one day I’ll be the death of you.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“My visions. In the druid’s well and at night when I sleep…it’s always your blood I see on the snow. On my knife, it is your blood. You’ll bring the downfall of my city unless I stop you, and my dreams tell me that I do stop you—by killing you. Go home, Merrin Fionbharr. Go home and be safe from harm.”

So the rumors must be true—the Merit king is insane.

Without another word, like a rejected hound, I retreat to my chambers to lick my wounds.