Prologue

 

Twelve years earlier

Niamh stood over Brody’s body, holding her blade.  Brody.  Her brother.  He’d stolen what was hers.  Hers.

Always she was second.  Treated like a child.  Pushed away.  Brody hadn’t even thrown her a bone by giving her something important to do.

No longer was she second.  Cold satisfaction rushed through her.  She hadn’t accepted the destiny given to her by a man.  She’d created her own.

As the blade entered his chest, Brody had frowned, puzzled.  “Niamh.  Why?”

“Because you took what was mine,” she’d screamed.

Power surging through her, Niamh wiped the blade on Brody’s fancy clothes and watched the blood soak into the rich fabric.  The robes of a king.  His robes and title hadn’t protected him from her blade, had they?

He’d welcomed her into his home this morning before dawn with a delighted smile.  A hug.  “Welcome, Niamh,” he’d said, squeezing her.  “It’s been too long since we’ve seen you.”

He’d offered her food.  Drink.  Beaming with happiness all the while.

Her fingers tightened around the blade she still held.  All his talk of missing her.  His delight at seeing her.  In all that, he hadn’t a thought to how he’d wronged her.  Ruined her life.

Niamh glanced at Brody’s wife.  Two of her warriors held Siobhan, who stared at Niamh in shock.  Horror.  “Why?” the woman asked.  “Why would you kill your own brother?”

“Because he stole what was mine.  I should have ruled the fae.  I was the eldest.  The strongest.  The smartest.  But Brody took the throne anyway.”

“He had no choice.”  Siobhan stood taller.  “He was ordered to do so.  He was the male.”

“He could have refused.”  Cold icing her blood, Niamh leaned closer to Siobhan.  She’d be joining Brody soon.  “And if he had?  They would have accepted me.  But he didn’t refuse.”

“He was a loyal man.  A good king,” Siobhan said, lifting her chin.  “Ruling was his duty.”

“Yes.  His duty.  And what is he now?  Carrion,” Niamh raged at her.  “Food for the scavengers.”  She narrowed her eyes.  Maybe Siobhan could be useful.  Maybe she was glad to be rid of Brody, too.  She could persuade the fae to accept Niamh.  Once she had the fae in hand, Siobhan could be eliminated.

“Acknowledge me as queen, and I’ll spare you.”

Siobhan’s lip curled with scorn.  “You think I’d believe a word you say after what you did to my husband?”  She spat on the floor at Niamh’s feet.  “I’ll never accept you as ruler of the fae.”

“Then you’ll share Brody’s fate.”  She motioned to her warriors.  “Kill her.”

They obeyed without hesitation.  In moments Siobhan’s blood flowed from the red gash circling her neck.  Thick blood splattered the walls.  The floor.  The warriors, who let Siobhan fall to the marble tiles.  A few drops of blood even landed on Niamh.

She touched one spot.  Still warm.  Smiling at Siobhan, she licked her finger.  Siobhan’s eyes fluttered closed.  The blood stopped flowing.  Her warriors stepped away from the dead consort.

“Now find Fineen,” she ordered.  “And his useless wife.  Kill both of them.”

One of the warriors recoiled.  “His wife is with child.”

“Exactly why she has to die.  I want no one of Brody’s bloodline left alive.”

The warriors hesitated for a fraction of a second.  Finally nodded.  Disappeared as they took themselves to Fineen’s home.

Niamh clenched her fists.  For that hesitation, they would die, as well.  Warriors who couldn’t do their jobs were easily replaced.  In fact, one of her younger warriors had shown great aptitude for killing.  Egon Crue was eager to join her favorites.  Eager for an invitation to her bed.

She’d speak to him.  See how readily he accepted the job of killing two fellow warriors.  If he passed the test, he’d join with her that night.

* * *

As Fineen’s sword clashed with Taryn’s, sweat pouring off their bodies, Finn felt  a surge of exhilaration.  He wasn’t beating Taryn.  Not yet.  But he was holding his own.  Keeping Taryn at bay.  Progress.  Steps in the right direction.

His father’s friend Taryn was the most skilled of the warriors.  He was teaching Finn all of his tricks.  His feints.  His attacks.

Taryn signaled a pause.  He sheathed his sword.  Wiped his face as Finn slid his own sword into its scabbard.  Taryn slapped Finn’s shoulder.

“You’re a quick learner, Fineen,” he said, beaming.  “Brody will be proud of your progress.  Let’s head back.  We’ll break our fast with him.  Tell him how well you did.”

As they trudged over the tiny green hillock that separated his father’s home from the practice field, Taryn stopped dead.  Blood drained from his face as he stared into the distance.  “Brody!  NO,” Taryn shouted as he grabbed Finn’s arm.

“What?”  Finn stared at Taryn, dread congealing in his veins.  He’d never seen his father’s friend look so devastated.  So destroyed.

“Your father,” Taryn said.  “He’s dead.”

“No.”  Finn shook his head, sure Taryn was wrong.  “He can’t be.  Father is in excellent health.”

Taryn turned to Finn.  Grasped his arm in a fierce grip.  “Not an illness.  An attack.  Niamh.”

“Niamh killed my father?”  Without waiting for an answer, Finn began to run.  “My aunt did that?”

Glenna.  Their unborn child.  His mother.  If Niamh had killed his father, she’d go after all of Brody’s family.

After Glenna!

Taryn’s steps pounded beside Finn’s, but Finn gradually outpaced him.  The thundering of his heart echoed his feet, pounding on the hard ground.  Fear congealed into a cold ball inside him.  Dread hung over him like a dark shadow.

The need to stop Niamh spurred him to run faster.  Harder.  His heart raced with fear.  Dread.  Determination to protect Glenna.

Still too far from his house, he saw the open door.

Finn ran faster, his hand on his sword.

As he rushed into the house, one warrior withdrew his sword from Glenna’s body.  Blood pooled around her, thick and dark and coppery.  Dead.  Along with the babe inside her.

The second warrior must have felt the breeze of Finn’s movement.  Swinging his sword, he turned, sliding in Glenna’s blood.  Because he’d slipped, Finn avoided the killing blow.  But the blade ripped into his chest, sending fire through his body.

Finn toppled to the floor, knowing his end was near.

But as he struggled to breathe, magic poured over him.  Forced his eyes closed.  Slowed his breathing.  As his consciousness faded, he heard Taryn speaking.  Couldn’t make out the words.

What difference did it make, anyway?  His father was dead.  Likely his mother as well.  And now Glenna and the babe were gone.

Light dimmed as hard arms lifted him up.  Cradled him against a leather-covered chest.  “I’ll bury him.”  Taryn’s voice.  “Then I’ll bury Glenna.”  His voice implacable, he said, “God save your souls for what you’ve done today.”  Taryn’s voice was as cold as the Frozen Zone.  And just as unforgiving.

As the light faded, Finn saw Glenna in the distance.  A blond boy beside her, clutching her hand.  Finn smiled.  Reached for them.

The light faded, and he knew no more.

* * *

Niamh stood at her crystal, triumph rising as her warrior struck Glenna down.  Instead of resisting, Glenna had crossed her arms over her belly.  As if that could save her.  Or the child.

“Fool,” Niamh murmured.  “It’s just a child.  Of no importance to anyone but you, Glenna.”

Hatred for Brody, Siobhan, Fineen, roared through her.  Glenna’s unborn son, who would have one day been king.

No longer.  She was queen now.  Queen Niamh.  Every fae would kneel to her.  Acknowledge her.

Blood poured out of the young woman’s body, covering the floor.  Her warriors turned.  Fineen appeared in the doorway.

The warrior closest to him swung his blade.  His foot slipped in the blood, but he managed a hard blow.  Fineen fell to the floor.  Motionless.  No longer breathing.

Taryn stepped through the door after him.  Spoke to her warriors, who shrank away from him.  “Kill him,” she screamed at the crystal.  “He’ll not stop until he kills me.”

But the warriors simply watched as Brody’s friend Taryn picked up Fineen’s dead body.  Cradled it against his chest and walked out the door.

She raged as she looked for Taryn in her crystal.  He had the most powerful magic of any of the fae.  He wouldn’t hesitate to use it against her.  But right now, he was using it to screen himself from her crystal.  She saw no sign of him anywhere in Giardin.

“Go after Taryn,” she ordered her warriors via her crystal.  “Kill him.”  She’d always hated Brody’s friend.  He’d resisted her sexual thrall.  Refused to lie with her.  If he lived, she would never be safe.

“Go.  Now,” she screamed to her warriors.  “Before he vanishes.”

Nodding, the two warriors rushed out the door.  Stopped in their tracks.  Looked around, bewildered.

Clearly, they saw no sign of Taryn.  He’d vanished.

Niamh would issue a standing order.  Taryn was a dead man.  No matter where or when he reappeared.

Turning away from her crystal, she stepped to the window and reached for the shutters.  She’d defeated Brody.  Killed Fineen.  Today she would declare herself queen.  She’d take over as ruler of Giardin.  And eventually, she’d defeat the human world, as well.

Then she’d rule the earth.

She didn’t believe the prophecy.  Didn’t believe a half-fae woman would succeed in taking down a queen.  It was merely a wish, spoken by a disgruntled fae.

A hope.  Nothing more.

Opening the shades on the dawn sky, she drew back with a start.  Couldn’t contain the tiny gasp that escaped.

Instead of the normal pink of dawn in Giardin, the sky was crimson.  Red light dripped onto the trees, the hills, the grass, until everything appeared covered in blood.

Niamh stared at the red landscape for a long moment, shaken in spite of herself.  Then she dragged the shades closed again.  It was nothing.  A change in the atmosphere.  A rising storm.

But as she turned away from the window, cold fingers crept up her spine.  She shivered.

Closing her eyes, she reminded herself that she was now queen.  She couldn’t afford weakness.  Couldn’t afford to panic.

Her hands didn’t shake.  Her heart didn’t race.

All who had denied her rightful place were dead.  Brody.  Siobhan.  Fineen.  Glenna.  And she felt nothing.

Niamh smiled.

She was worthy to be queen.

She’d never fear again.

All others would fear her.  Niamh.  Queen of the fae.

Chapter 1

Cassidy heard the crow before she turned the corner.

Poe.  His distress call.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she began running down the quiet Chicago residential street.  She didn’t question her certainty it was him.  The crow had been hanging around her mother’s house for many years.  She knew his voice.

In between his tense calls, she heard the whistle of feathers.  As if Poe was flapping his wings.  Agitated.

She didn’t question that, either.  According to her mother, she’d inherited her extraordinary hearing from her father.  Not that Cassidy would know — that asshole had taken off before she was born.

Fear tightened her muscles as she ran faster toward the house.  Her mom.  She’d called yesterday, telling Cassidy she was sorry about their fight and asking her to come for dinner.  She’d tell her daughter everything, she’d promised.  Things were happening, and Cassidy needed to know the truth.  Cassidy might not want to know about these things, her mother had said.  But she needed to know.  Now.