SWNOVELS King of Merits: Chapter 7
Merri
since we last met,” says the Shade prince, removing his hand from my waist to run it through his royal-blue tresses.
As we dance, he regularly breaks rhythm to pet his hair, perhaps making sure the comely locks are still attached to his narrow head. I admit he wears it in a lovely style far prettier than mine. The sides are braided at his temples, and the rest is worn loose, rippling over his shoulders and glinting with threaded moon flowers.
Coal-black eyes skim my emerald gown, fixing on the golden dragonfly embroidered over my chest. “The years have transformed you, little butterfly, and since you’ve emerged from your chrysalis, your appearance is more to my taste. At present, I feel somewhat favorable to the deal our parents plot together in mannerly whispers.”
Somewhat favorable—what an insult!
I give him a bland smile and say nothing.
Dressed in shadows and diamonds, the prince is handsome and lovely to look at, but he’s obsessed with his own beauty, never missing an opportunity to peer into a mirror-like surface. And when he gazes into my eyes, it’s his own reflection he’s admiring, never me.
Wearing my frozen smile, I pretend to be charmed as we twirl over the grass oval between the nine sacred hazel trees, zigzagging through the crush of bodies dancing wildly around the old city’s tournament space.
Tonight is Beltane—my favorite festival of all—and I refuse to let Prince Landolin ruin it.
Wyn waltzes past with a beautiful southern witch in his arms. He winks and sprays the Shade prince and me with a puff of glittering dirt, then spins away.
Landolin frowns at my brother’s disrespectful use of earth magic but stays silent. No doubt his family has instructed him to avoid a brawl tonight at all costs.
Wyn isn’t happy about my potential union with the Shade Court. He says they’re an evil lot who torture stray humans for fun, which makes me doubt the judgment of our court’s advisers and political schemers. To them, my happiness is apparently of no consequence.
I wish I could tell Wyn the truth about tonight. And I pray to Dana that Ether is correct about the outcome. Because if she’s wrong, well…that doesn’t bear thinking about.
It’s a beautiful, clear night for a festival. Moonlight falls on the king and queen’s table, which is set beneath the ruins of Castle Black. Opposite, steep cliffs fall into a wild, thrashing sea, and fae from both the Shade and Elemental Courts fill the rows of stone benches that climb around the edges of the arena like a sparkling staircase to the stars.
Three small bonfires burn a line down the middle of the arena, the heat almost singeing my eyebrows off as we weave our way past them. Later this evening, couples will interlink hands and leap over the fires—a test of their bonds, both old and new. Landolin and I will join them, and if we make it over all three without being burned, the courting contract will be sealed and plans for our marriage will begin in earnest. But that’s not going to happen—our High Mage swore it wouldn’t.
Sorrowful blue eyes flash across my mind, and I miss a step, stumbling against Landolin who doesn’t smile or laugh, just scowls in displeasure at my clumsiness. “Sorry,” I say, biting my inner cheek to stop myself laughing.
It seems only one of us has a sense of humor.
One dance is all it takes to remind me why I could never be happy as his wife. He won’t find happiness with me either. Thank Dana, it could never happen, anyway.
Landolin releases me near a sea witch, one of the guards of the seven sacred hazel trees, her white robes and black cape billowing in the jasmine-scented breeze. She watches with a sly smile as the surly prince bows stiffly before striding away without a word.
I blow a kiss of thanks to the witch, grateful for her service to our court. Beltane isn’t the sea witches’ favorite festival, but they take their role as guards of the hazel grove very seriously and would never miss a celebration.
All around us, music swells. High fae and wild creatures alike shriek and laugh as they spin and fly about to the rhythm of the flutes, bells, harps, and bodhrán drums. I sway along at the edge of the crowd, chatting with a group of woodland sprites.
“How do you like the Shade prince?” whispers a close by voice.
I jerk as the Queen of Fire draws her arm through mine and pulls me toward a table overflowing with sumptuous delights.
I admire the flowers and vines tumbling over crystal bowls of wine, platters of juicy fruits, steaming pies, and plates of sweet bannocks.
Later tonight, we’ll offer the leftovers to the spirits of the old ones, and they in turn will care for our land and gardens over the coming year.
I tuck my hair behind my ears, stalling for time. “Well…his midnight-silk attire is very fetching, and the diamonds dripping from it are even more delightful.”
Sparks swirl in Isla’s eyes. “And other words that suit him are ostentatious, distasteful, and let’s not forget boorish.”
I laugh. “I agree.”
“So you don’t like him?”
“No.” I wince. “Nor is he very fond of me, I’m afraid. I’ll be sorry to disappoint Lord Stavros and Lord Gavrin when we fail the jump tonight. I know how important they believe an alliance with Landolin’s court is, especially at the moment, but—”
“As your parents have already explained to you, we’ll be fine without the Shade Court. Both Raff and Ever are home, their magic fortifying our boundaries, and the curse will lie dormant until Aodhan comes of age. At present, our kingdom is strong enough. We don’t need Landolin, so we’re free to bake and eat and dance without worry.”
She pops a bright red cherry in her mouth and smiles. “Besides, we have an even stronger ally than the entire Court of Shades who is currently resting in your chambers. Rather fortunate circumstance, don’t you think?”
Isla laughs at my gaping mouth, and her expelled breath sends a mass of sparks floating onto a nearby faun’s leg, setting his fur alight. He squeals, and the queen’s fingers flutter through the air, the large sunstone ring flashing with power as she douses the flames. “I’m so sorry, Nyeel. That wasn’t intentional.”
Nodding and smiling at the folk, we make our way to the high table and settle into our seats, giggling at Landolin, who’s dancing with Seven.
The one-eyed imp’s sinuous moves display her many charms, and the enthusiastic tongue the prince licks her with signals he’s forgotten all about me. I can’t say I mind very much.
After conversing with Raff and my parents, Isla turns back to me and speaks in a low, heavily warded voice, rendering our words indecipherable to those around us. “Tell me how that king of yours is going, Merri. Is his health improving?”
“My king? I’d be a fool if I thought I could own Riven na Duinn. He’s the kind of fae who will only ever belong to himself.”
“Perhaps. But even when I knew him as the outcast prince, his people owned him, and he will always put their interests first. I haven’t decided if that’s a good thing yet.”
“Exactly. Therefore, he could never be a trustworthy ally,” I say, my voice rising much higher than I intended.
“That remains to be seen. If nothing else, the Merit king’s time at our court is an opportunity. Maybe for us. Maybe for him. As they say, time will tell.”
“I’m confused by the way you speak of him, Isla. One moment he sounds innocent and alluring and the next, quite devious. Shouldn’t you make up your mind about Riven before I spend too much time alone with him?”
“Where you’re concerned, he’s definitely the latter. Dangerous and armed with an insidious charm.” She tugs my wrist, drawing my attention away from the dancers. “Listen, Merri. Something strange is afoot with this whole Merit king business.”
“An understatement if ever I’ve heard one.”
The queen grips my hand under the table. “Last night, I sent a message through the hearth flames to Riven’s sister to advise her of his injury, to let her know I’ll keep her brother safe while he heals. A whole day has passed, but I haven’t had a reply.”
“Your message could have gone astray.”
“Unlikely, the salamander is a magical creature. There’s no physical journey for it to make.”
“Could it have been intercepted somehow?” I ask.
“Virtually impossible. And it would be a brave fae who dared to interfere with a missive from a queen of Faery. My best guess is that on hearing her brother was attacked in our land, Lidwinia was too furious to reply, and is calculating her next step, which I suppose is a fair reaction.”
“Concerning.”
“Yes, very. And regarding us finding the creature responsible, I concocted a story about a pixie, poison-shot by a stag beast who turned into a woman. Our mages seek it as we speak. As a queen of Faery, I must say the ability to lie is very useful. The High Mage is conducting extensive investigations but, so far, hasn’t turned up a clue. It’s beyond odd. Usually, nothing of this gravity would get by Ether.”
This news turns my blood to ice. The idea of an entity running loose in our land who has the power to lure the Merit king into forbidden territory and the gall to make an attempt on his life without first seeking our permission terrifies me.
Who could be so brazen? So powerful? Only a creature from the Dark World, a barren realm of monstrous entities long segregated from ours, could achieve this. My skin crawls as I wonder if the border magic that separates us is weakening, or if a being has somehow gained the ability to breach the wards at will. Both options are dire for my kingdom.
“Isla, are you tempted to tell Raff I have the king in my chambers?”
“No, Merri. Absolutely not. It would sign Riven’s death warrant.” Fireflies dance around the queen’s hair as she drums her fingers on the table. “And I won’t, unless you tell me there’s no other option. Help him heal. Befriend him if you can, and mend the rift between our courts. And, please, always, always remember to be guided by your heart and never by your fears.”
I take a deep breath, my gaze lifting to the stars before it drifts over my family seated along the high table. Blissfully ignorant of the recent troubling events, they look happy, and I plan to do everything in my power to ensure they remain so.
Grandma Varenus sits beside my father, her face solemn and white hair sparkling like sheets of moonlit snow. She arches a brow at me and clicks her fingers. Ice crystals form in the tree branches above my father’s head. She claps her hands, and they instantly melt, pouring onto Dad’s head.
I laugh as he scowls, wringing his wet hair out on her plate. Fortunately, he’s wearing his golden armor, so if she retaliates, at least he should survive.
Rearranging the crown on his tawny mane, Raff points at Balor, Spark, and Cara chasing each other through the dancers’ legs. Rising, he makes a joke that I don’t quite hear, offers Isla his hand then sweeps her down the stone steps onto the grassy dance floor.
Sparks from the bonfires gather and eddy around them as he takes his queen in his arms. With a flick of his hand, he steps back and twirls her off, alone, into the crush of dancers. The drums pound faster, fiddles and flutes growing frantic. He springs after her, pulling her body close as they dance together, their feet hardly touching the ground.
Before long, horns blow, heralding the beginning of the fire ceremony. Tiny chill bumps spread over my skin as I leave the high table and follow the king and queen onto the tournament ground. I suppose it’s time to find Landolin.
Happiness and a twinge of jealousy claw at my insides as I study my family. I want what the king and queen and my parents have. A soul mate. True and everlasting love. Difficult to find and impossible to have with a fae like Landolin Ravenseeker.
Despite what the Land of Five advisers think, vain and shallow, the prince is not for me, and besides, his realm exists on a plane beneath ours, bleak, dark, full of mysteries and secrets. I’m a lover of the bright forests, an admirer of the chaotic human cities, and I could never be happy living in the shadows.
Beneath my feet, tiny rocks stir—a warning that Kian, brandishing his earth magic, is about to appear. Before I have time to hide in the crowd, he slips out from behind a hazel tree dressed in princely crushed velvet, an emerald circlet on his brow, and green tourmaline decorating his hair and clothes.
Head bowed, his hands smooth over his tunic, too busy admiring himself to watch where he’s walking, which is straight into a group of goblins. “Kian Leondearg!” the tallest one calls, no doubt hoping to draw the vain lord into their circle of rowdy troublemakers.
Alas for me, Kian grants them a dismissive nod and steers out of their way. His gaze snags mine, nostrils flaring wide as he changes course, heading directly for me.
I straighten my spine and calm my breathing. By the Elements, I am not in the mood for Kian’s nonsense tonight.
“Dearest Princess,” he says, bowing low before rising in a dramatic cloud of gold dust. “Good evening.”
“I see Father has granted you use of your magic again,” I say, giving him a small smile.
Leering at me, he presents a garland strung with translucent halite, twisted dried tubers, and petrified wood—a beautiful offering of his element’s bounty. “You look especially enchanting tonight, Merrin.”
I glance down at my gown. In the usual fae style, the silver and blue panels of glossy fabric display a lot of skin, but fleetingly, still retaining secrets. Spun with precious metals, dyed with bright forget-me-nots, and imbued with air magic, the fabric floats around my limbs like falling feathers.
The dress is beautiful, but its purpose—to snare a prince—is suffocating, and I long to be back in my hunting leathers, rambling through the forest with Nahla and Cara. And perhaps even Wyn.
A vision of silver hair snaking through snow-white poppies flashes in my mind. Then eyes of the deepest blue, flaring wide with confusion and pain. Damned Riven again.
Kian’s fingers curl around my arm, his nails digging sharply. I shake him off and nod at his gift lying in my open palm. “Thank you, Kian. It’s gorgeous. But you shouldn’t have.”
It’s bordering on an insult to give such a lovely gift to a fae he isn’t courting, to me, who has never once encouraged him.
His smile morphs into another leer. “How beautiful the bonfires are this evening. Will you do me the great honor of leaping with me this Beltane night?”
He has to be joking. If not, his boldness and stupidity are astonishing. Father has warned him what will happen if he continues to bother me and, still, he can’t seem to control himself.
As I take a breath to tell him that what he asks is impossible, the garland is wrenched from my grasp by long fingers flashing with diamond rings. Prince Landolin has arrived. With a scowl, he tosses Kian’s gift into the air, and it turns into a bat and flies off into the trees, screeching.
“There goes your precious present, jester-haired courtier. Who are you to ask Princess Merrin to cross the fires? A prince I’ve not yet been introduced to?”
Kian splutters.
“No? It is as I thought, then. You’re no one.” Landolin extends his arm. “Come, Merrin, the ceremony begins.”
Courtiers form a chanting circle around a line of small ceremonial fires on the ocean side of the tournament area, their jaws gnashing against the night sky as smoke wreaths their bodies. They strike vicious poses, their blood wild and pumping lustily in anticipation of the Beltane rites.
I long to escape Landolin’s tight grip and romp through the spectators with friends, laughing and singing as I did when I was a child. Back then, I naively believed when I married my prince, it would be for love and love alone. But peace, our politicians advise, is more important than tender touches, the thrill of those only growing weaker over time. Love is meaningless in the greater scheme of things. Apparently.
“Ready?” asks Landolin.
I nod, and we join the couples who will take part in the ceremony, gliding to the front of the line. As royalty, the prince and I will open the rites by leaping first. In truth, I’ll be glad to get it over with.
Conflicting emotions roil inside me as the drums pound faster, the crowd’s chants rising in a frenzied crescendo. My leap must look authentic, but I’m terrified that I’ll miscalculate, and we’ll make it over the flames unscathed, and I’ll be bound by ancient rites in a loveless marriage with the Shade prince.
The four mages stand straight as taper candles beside the king and queen, their expressions radiant and their diaphanous gowns trimmed with ivy leaves and large blossoms that glow like fire opals.
From the high table, silver eyes flash in the dark, and my father’s air magic gently lifts locks of my hair in a reassuring caress. He smiles, and my mother waves and gives me a human-style thumbs up.
King Rafael opens the Beltane ceremony with a lively speech that has the court in stitches. It sounds entertaining, but my mind is whirling so fast I barely understand a word of it.
While I wait for the fires to reduce so the rites can begin, I stand in a daze, hypnotized by the flames.
Who will take care of the Merit king if everything goes wrong, and the Shade Court spirit me away to their shadowy underworld?
I picture Riven lying alone, in pain in my antechamber. Magret and Alorus have promised to check that he fares well tonight, but I’m anxious to see him for myself.
Over the last couple of days, I’ve discovered there’s nothing that feeds an obsession quite as well as having a nightmare turn into flesh and bone and take up residence near one’s bedchamber.
Mother moves to the front of the dais, a stunning vision in silver and gold. She sings a springtime song about growth and warmth and young love in bloom. It has the desired effect on the crowd, and bodies move slowly in the flickering firelight, eager for the ceremony to be over so they can disappear into the forest and become one, their couplings enhancing the prosperity of our land.
The ashes from the bonfires will be collected for use in spells and sprinkled over the gardens to enrich and enliven the soil. New unions. New marriages. And if we’re well blessed, in several moon turns, many sweet fae babes will be born.
Part of me longs to retreat to a dark forest bower, illuminated only by fireflies and starlight, and celebrate Beltane in the ancient way. But not with Landolin. Once again, it is the King of Merits whose face blazes before me.
Riven.
My nightmare.
My enemy.
My addiction.
“Merrin, it is time.” With his finger, as is customary, the Shade prince paints a stripe of ash from my forehead to my chin.
I bend, gathering ash in my palm, and return the action, carefully pocketing a handful to anoint Riven with later. He must be protected too.
The Merit may be my enemy, but I want to give him the best chance to survive his poisoned wound. Why? Well, the answer is complicated.
King Raff smiles at Landolin and me, beckoning us toward the first fire, the flames of all three now burning low. “Use of magic will disqualify you. The powers of Beltane will determine the suitability of your match. If it’s deemed prosperous, Dana and the Old Ones will bless your union.” He kisses my cheeks, then the prince’s.
We slip our shoes off.
With my fingers tight around Landolin’s, I face the flames. “By the Elements Five, may destiny unfold as it should. Steadfast and true, my feet will fall as best serves the Court of Five and our honorable and faithful allies of the Shade Court.”
Landolin’s black eyes meet mine, his gaze cold. His lips curve in a smug smile. “As it is spoken, so may it be. As the gods old and new bear witness, what I make mine in the shadows is mine forevermore.”
That sounds ominous…and rather permanent.
We nod at each other, then we leap.
We soar above the first fire, the heat scorching the bare soles of my feet. Over the roar of the crowd, I hear Landolin hiss. Is he burned? If so, our bond is broken.
A dark thrill courses through me.
The dewy grass soothes my feet as we run forward then leap over the second fire, flying so high above it we laugh with joy. Grass again, then more running, and then the third and final fire.
My lungs ache as I fill them with air. Our arms swing back hard, then up we go, sailing above the heat and noise of the fire. I land a moment after Landolin, jerking him backward on purpose. Pain sears from my feet to my heart, and we both stumble forward.
The fire. We landed on the edge of the fire. Relief floods through me. Our bond is broken, and I only hope the prince doesn’t realize that little yank I gave wasn’t accidental.
Courtiers gasp as one as flames lick up our clothes, my mother’s scream the loudest. We stand immobile, like burning statues. Eyes wide and our fingers still tangled tight, we wait for King Raff to end our torture.
In two breaths, Raff arrives, his sunflower scepter pointed at us and his amber eyes wild. “Come! Tine bheannaithe,” he commands, and the flames spin away from our bodies, spiraling into the head of his scepter.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Landolin as I grip my knees and bend over them, panting. “Are you hurt?” Other than a little blackening of our clothes, we seem unscathed.
He inspects his feet and legs. “I’m fine. Although, I was rather fond of these breeches.” He waves his hands and black shadows whirl around his legs, remaking his satiny pants. “Don’t worry, Princess Merrin. The shades have decided—you’re not supposed to belong to me.”
Thank Dana, the flames, and every single star in the sky.
My dress hangs in tatters around my thighs, but I won’t waste my energy reforming it from cobwebs and air in a show of magic just for the Shade prince’s sake. Before bed, I plan to visit Riven, and I need my strength so I won’t appear weak in his presence.
The Beltane couples leap the fires in pairs, some fail and others, whose bonds are strong, triumphantly receive Raff and Isla’s blessings before quickly escaping into the Emerald Forest.
My parents bring us goblets of wine, and I gulp mine down inelegantly. Landolin thrusts his empty cup at me, then steps away to whisper in Seven’s ear—better hers than mine.
Mom squeezes me in her arms. “Well done, darling. I admit I was terrified that Ether’s vision of you and Landolin not making it over the fires was incorrect and you’d be taken away from us.’
Father says, “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Merri. I would never allow such an unworthy fae to have you, no matter the outcome of the Beltane rites. Although, I admit I am slightly disappointed not to have an excuse to draw my blade on the Shade king. Every time he’s opened his mouth tonight, I’ve longed to shut it permanently.”
“I hope my jump looked credible,” I say.
Isla joins us and links her arm through Mother’s, looking extraordinarily pleased by my failure.
Moiron Ravenseeker, the King of Shades, whose hair is the same deep blue color as his son’s, steps out of the shadows. “Never mind, my Court of Five friends,” he says in a high grating voice. “We may yet decide to attempt another match with Merrin and my heir next Beltane.”
Father inclines his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, but I know he’ll do everything in his power to prevent a repeat of tonight’s fraudulent performance.
“Good. We’ll return home and consult with our shadow casters. What we desire can always be manifested if our will is steadfast. Princess Merrin of Talamh Cúig, if our court wants you for our queen, in time, we will most certainly have you.”
He and his son bow and stride off into the darkness beyond the fires.
Finally, I can breathe freely again.
Isla tugs me to the side, nodding at the spot the Shade king vacated moments ago. “He seems quite keen to make a match between you and his son.”
“Maybe I will have to marry Kian to escape the Shade prince, then,” I murmur.
“Don’t be silly. Why not consider the Merit king? He’s at your disposal,” she says. “It would be a very auspicious alliance, given the geographical closeness of our kingdoms. Same realm. Same landmass. You’d be queen of the Dark Court and princess of the Light, bringing peace to both our lands. Haven’t you heard the wise words about loving your enemy, Merri dearest?”
“What?” I stare into the queen’s eyes. Does she jest? No, unfortunately, she looks quite serious.
“Just a thought.” Queen Isla winks, and then skips off into the forest.
Moments later King Rafael discharges his duties and follows her, his grin wide and his swaggering steps long. The air heats, the warm breeze flavored with longing and joy.
I ponder the queen’s words as I slip quietly into the trees, trekking along the quickest path to the castle, alone on this Beltane night of courtship and love.
That Isla would even dare suggest Riven as husband material is deeply shocking and causes me to doubt her sanity.
Well, if our queen is insane, then I must be mad, too, because as I stride through the magical night, a long-asleep part of me wakes, roused by the tempting prospect of Riven and me together.
For one night or forever.