SWNOVELS King of Merits: Chapter 8
Riven
the door to my prison scrapes open and reveals the air princess standing on the threshold holding a glowing taper in her left hand.
As she strides across the room toward my bed, I force my weight onto an elbow, my heart pounding louder than a kettle drum.
“What a delightful surprise,” I say in a bored tone. “Have you brought food? I confess I’m quite ravenous. Please inform your kitchen staff that the portions they serve your detainees are too miserly.”
She gives a soft snort. “You think I’ve had other prisoners before you?”
“I can only assume so. You seem well practiced in the details of detainment. And you’re heartless enough. Have you food?”
“No.” She kneels beside the bed. “Actually, I have brought something sustaining, but I’m afraid you can’t eat it. Now hold still.”
Quick fingers delve into the pocket of her barely there gown, the delicate material around her thighs shriveled and burned as though she’s been over the bonfires this evening—probably with the insipid Shade prince. Was their leap successful?
“Merri, I must ask you—”
“Shh.” She paints a strip of Beltane ash from my forehead to my chin, her touch swift and sure, kindling a fire inside me.
I watch the fast rise and fall of her chest, and my gaze drops to her rosebud lips. My mouth parts, and I shift closer, dragged forward by an uncontrollable force. Why does this halfling have power over me, an Unseelie king?
The druid’s well never lies—the Princess of Air will be my downfall. I should be repelled by her, not drawn like a dragon to a hoard of gold.
My hand shoots out, and I grip her chin roughly. Since I’ve been resting in this cell, a little strength has returned to my limbs. I could kill her now, and quickly, too. “You’re offering me protection?” I whisper.
In the flickering light of the taper, I cannot see her eyes, but I hear her breath catch. “It’s not an offer, Riven. I’ve already given it to you.”
“Why would you do that?”
“You’re asking why I want you to survive your injury?”
“Yes.”
Wine-dark hair brushes my chest and arms as she leans closer. “You’re the Merit king, and over much of my kingdom’s history, your court has been our sworn enemy.”
A sweet, smoky scent fills my nose and muddles my mind. Silent, I wait for her to continue.
“But contrary to what your narrow mind believes, Riven, I’m not a murderer of the helpless. This is Beltane. It is a fae king’s right to receive two blessings on this night.”
My chest tightens, then a laugh escapes me. “Oh? And what other blessing have you—”
Without warning, her lips press against mine, silencing my words and dropping me into a raging sea of insanity. I grip her shoulders, planning to shove her away, but her taste, her scent drugs me, and I only move closer. Her air magic slides over my skin, calming, soothing.
What is this? A poisoned kiss?
She whispers my name, and I kiss her with relish, proving myself the worst kind of fool, for I am lost, undone by the sweet sighs of my silver-eyed enemy.
I wrap my hand around her throat as my fingers caress her skin softly. My lips guide hers, deeper and deeper, as terrible thoughts of longing and fulfillment flood my mind.
What do I wish for?
Only total control over the princess of Talamh Cúig.
With a soft moan, she surrenders, and her magic slips away, relinquishing its hold over me. My fingers squeeze her slender neck, capturing her sharply exhaled breath. Heat swirls through my chest, gut, limbs, my body heavy and mind on fire. I could make her mine. Now. And who would stop me?
So this is how it feels to have your obsession at your mercy—equal parts pain and ecstasy, desperate to rush to the finish, while never wanting the blissful feeling to end. At this moment, Merrin Fionbharr is mine.
A single tear slides down Merri’s cheek, and with the tip of my tongue, I take this, too.
A creature trapped, she cannot move. I nip her lip and draw blood, but she makes no sound, not even a whimper. The room spins as I draw back and stare into her mercurial eyes. They pierce my soul and condemn me, but for what crime, I do not know. What does she want from me?
My dreams provide the answer: Your kingdom. Your crown. Everything.
Squeeze, I tell myself. End it now while I have the advantage. If I can leave this land undetected, the Elementals will never know who to blame for Merri’s death, retaining peace between our kingdoms.
One strong flex of tendons and bones.
And crunch.
She will be dead.
Gone—unable to plague me with visions of sparkling eyes and a halfling’s false promises of joy and laughter. The Princess of Air will not defeat me. Not tonight, and not ever.
But wait…if she’s not alive to free me, how will I escape this room? And the castle?
I might rot away in the Seelie lands and leave my people at the mercy of those who long to return to the ways of the Blood Sun ritual and its altar of terror—a dreadful outcome.
“Riven?” Merri gasps, her eyes wide.
She is afraid. And rightly so. Light freckles dust her nose, a glamor of sweetness and innocence. But I am not deceived. This could be my only opportunity to do what I must, the only time she’ll come this close.
End it.
End it now.
Fingers dig into my arms as false concern swirls in the silver sea of her irises, her face a mask of innocence. “Riven, you look feverish. Are you all right?”
“Curse your deceitful eyes, Merrin Fionbharr.” With a grunt, I shove her away, feeling no pleasure as she slides off the bed and her skull hits the floor with a sickening thud.
“I’m sorry,” I say, holding my hand out. “I only meant to throw off the enchantment…your spell of…” I dare not name it. Shouldn’t even think it.
“I’m fine. And what are you talking about? I cast no spell.”
She lies; I felt the enchantment.
Sitting up, she glares at me through her hair. “You’ve regained some strength back.”
“Perhaps your prison food is not that bad after all.” To my disgust, my voice sounds low, an intimate rasp.
Merri flicks her hand and wind whips through the fireplace, a tiny spark eddying inside it that quickly grows into a warm blaze. Gracefully, she stands and stalks forward, eyes feral as her long hair writhes around her shoulders. It seems I’ve roused the wrath of the Princess of Air.
“So, you wanted to hurt me, Merit? It was a foolish move to reject my blessing.”
She thought her kiss was a blessing? Its effect on me was the opposite.
Again, her hand lashes out, this time toward me. My back slams into the mattress. My throat constricts, muscles closing until I cannot draw breath, and my heart pounds a war rhythm against my ribs.
“Stop!” I choke out, pushing against her magic with all the strength I can muster.
A long cry comes from Merri’s mouth as she spins in place, arms outstretched and hair streaming as she moves like an air mage—a terrifying wonder.
Wind rips around the room, tearing at my hair and the linen bedclothes, roaring and roaring. Then with a high-pitched whir, it disappears up the fireplace.
Panting and shivering, Merri sags against the wall.
“Your power is strong,” I say in awe.
She makes a face to suggest this is not always the case, as if sometimes, she’s as weak as I am now.
“It’s true, Merrin. You could have killed me with ease.”
“Worry not.” She walks over and presses a kiss to my forehead. I try not to flinch. “You’re safe for now, Riven na Duinn.” Tattered gown flowing behind her, she exits the room without another word.
Three bars slide into place on the other side of the door, locking me in.
Sleep evades me as I twist and turn, torturing myself with half-baked plans of escape or getting a message to my sister before she rallies the Merit army and turns the Seelie kingdom to dust.
When I finally drift off, I drop straight into a dream of furious silver eyes and succulent peachy lips beckoning me farther into the dark labyrinth of my chaotic mind.
When I wake, it’s still dark, and I’m surprised to feel Merri’s unguarded energy thrumming through the walls into my cell. The princess must reside close by.
Very close.
A smile tugs at my lips. If my guess is correct, Merrin holds me in a room next to her chambers, which is convenient for me, because… Well, I’m not exactly certain why yet, but it’s a foolish decision on her part. It leaves her vulnerable.
And for some reason, the thought of Merrin Fionbharr close by and vulnerable pleases me, which proves I am sick in the head.
Very sick indeed.