Beauty

Chapter Three

Night fell, creeping across the fields like a mouse edging away from a predator. The shadows grew across the wheat until all was darkness, with the silvery moonlight to illuminate the swaying crops.

Bron sat in her tower, overlooking what was left of her kingdom.

“We’ve been in tougher spots, you know.” Gillian walked into the room, a fresh quilt in her hands. The days were still hot, the sun branding everything in its path, but the nights were beginning to cool.

Bron would be so warm between her Dark Ones. They would never allow the cold to seep into her bones. She stared at her bed, almost time to sink into sleep and a world where she was loved.

“I know.” Bron answered Gillian, not wanting the older woman to understand her impatience to be abed.

Gillian placed the quilt down and stared for a moment as though assessing the situation. “Do you want to run now?”

It was a kindness to even offer. Bron forced her attention to the here and now. She owed Gillian much more than her life. “We have to have coin. I know that. I can handle Micha. He’s a nasty old man, but I can manipulate him.”

Gillian sat on the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap. “I tried to turn his eye to me so you wouldn’t have to.”

Bron rushed to her side. “Gilly, don’t. I can handle him.”

Gillian was so still, Bron thought she wouldn’t say another word. “He didn’t even look at me. Not that I wanted him to, but still. I know I’m not a youngling any more, but I thought I still had some charm.”

Too, too often Bron sank into her own grief and forgot just what Gillian had given up for her. Gillian had lost her own kingdom. She’d been cut off from it as surely as if someone had taken it. All doors had closed because Gillian hadn’t left her behind. She’d given up her youth. What would have happened if she’d been safe on the Unseelie plane when Torin had started his nasty game? Would she be married by now? Have a child?

Bron let her hand drift over Gillian’s, feeling the calluses and scars that hadn’t existed before she’d saved a dead, young princess. Her voice choked with emotion. “Gilly, I think you’re the most beautiful woman in all the planes.”

Unshed tears made Gillian’s dark eyes shine. “You haven’t seen much, little one.”

Bron shook her head. “I’ve seen enough to know I love you very much.”

Gillian hugged her, a tight embrace. “And I love you. You understand that whatever I did, whatever reason I did it, I have come to love you, Bronwyn. I would place you first now.”

“Why did you do it?”

Gillian sat back, taking a long breath. “I thought if I saved you, you could bring the kingdoms together. I intended to talk to my father and marry you off to my brothers.”

A part of Bron was offended, but it was the childish bit that clung to shadowy vestiges of her former life. She was more practical now. “I was only fourteen at the time. I’m not sure I would have made a decent wife.”

“You would have been brought up to be an Unseelie princess. I would have seen to it, and your brothers would have been welcomed. They would have had a place until such time as an army was ready. We weren’t always two tribes, you know.”

It was radical what Gillian proposed. “That was thousands of years ago.”

“I know. I wasn’t trying to unite the crowns, merely to have a closer relationship. We fight far too often. In the end, it will make us vulnerable. I’ve studied this plane called Earth. They are a little like the vampires, though they’ve been closed off for so long, they don’t understand the way the planes work anymore. They do understand what it means to conquer. Think about vampires without any ties to other planes. When the humans discover our secrets, I doubt they’ll be content to leave us be. We will need each other. Whether it’s tomorrow or a thousand years from now, we will need to stand together if we’re to survive.”

Gillian always thought ahead. It was, she claimed, the mark of a true leader.

“The humans could certainly take us now,” Bron said with a sigh. “Is that why you were here in the first place? To negotiate a marriage?”

“I tried to negotiate a marriage between myself and your brothers,” Gillian admitted. “I am capable of bonding, just as you are. I could have bridged the kings. But your father had already selected a bondmate.”

Bron’s nose wrinkled. “I think if Cian had known you were trying to push Maris out, he would have sent her over the edge of the moat. He couldn’t stand her, and she hated him. I always wondered what father was thinking selecting a mate who hated one of her proposed husbands. You would have been a better choice. Do you think they bonded?”

Gillian’s mouth turned down. “I’ve heard rumors.”

Bron leaned forward. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up, and it could all be peasant rabble-rousing. We have no way of knowing. They say the kings have bonded and formed a true triad.”

Bron sat back, her head spinning with the thought. A true triad. It was a legend. The story went that when a pair of symbiotic twins found their perfect mate, they came into godlike powers. In the past, some could call water to their aid, walking on it and forming huge waves to crush their enemies, while others had the power to talk to all manner of beast, building an army of predators. But it was merely a legend. If it had happened before, it was so long ago no one on either of the planes could remember it. Surely it was merely a rumor. Symbiotic twins were rare and powerful, but they couldn’t control the elements.

Some could call forth the dead, bringing them back to life when his power merged with fire.

Bron chilled a little. Where had that thought come from?

She shook it off. It didn’t matter. “I pray the rumors are true and that Beck and Cian have found their mate. I don’t believe the true triad stuff. I just want my brothers alive and happy and safe.”

She hoped they were out there, perhaps on the Vampire plane with their cousin Dante, enjoying life. They didn’t know she was alive. It was better that way. They could have their family without risking themselves. Even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew Torin wouldn’t allow it. As long as Beck and Ci drew breath, he would plot to kill them. He had to.

And Bron had to stay alive. Because in the end, her brothers would be forced to come back to Tir na nÓg one way or another. She took a deep breath, the cool night air filling her lungs. That was a battle for another day.

“I’ll deal with Micha. He’ll want a grand wedding. He’s intent on inviting the queen herself.” Maris. Bron’s fist clenched. Maris, the betrayer. Over the years, Bron had come to understand that Maris had been the one to open the palace gates and allow Torin’s marauders in. Maris, who had pledged to love her brothers. Maris, whose corpse Bron intended to see tossed over her husband’s.

Gillian stood, seemingly satisfied with that bit of news. “Excellent. A wedding like that will take months to plan. We can sell our crops and disappear. Perhaps a seaside province this time. I’ve long wanted to try my hand with a fishing net.”

Gillian enjoyed a challenge. “We’ll have the most profitable boat in no time.”

Gillian nodded and left. Bron’s heart raced a bit as she got under the covers and snuffed out her candle. She settled into the firm straw mattress, wiggling around until she was as comfortable as she was likely to be.

Moonlight streamed in, casting everything with a silvery glow. Bron closed her eyes and prayed for sleep.

* * * *

She walked into the room, white marble under her feet. This was the White Palace, her home. She knew it, even years later. It played in the back of her mind that it was probably different now. Thirteen years of Torin’s rule had undoubtedly changed the place, but in her dreams, the palace was still her sunny home, unchanged, undimmed by faulty memory.

She turned her face up. This was the sunshine room. Oh, her mother called it the waiting room, where she and her ladies sat and sewed and chatted, but Bronwyn called it the sunshine room because it was always filled with light.

A familiar shape moved just out of the light’s reach. This shape hid in shadows.

Her Dark Ones.

“Are you coming out?” Bron called, teasing them a bit. She caught sight of one and then the other, their forms clinging to the edge of the light.

“Why don’t you come back in?” They spoke in one voice, a slight echo in the words.

It was always this way. Come morning, she knew she would wonder why she never sat down and talked to them, but caught in the dream, she simply did what felt right.

They didn’t love the light the way she did, but they would wait for her. She turned her face up to the sun, letting it warm her. The sun felt different here. In her village, it was always so hot during the summers, but at the palace the sun was a soft kiss on her skin, warming her gently.

“We can kiss you better than the sun. Come here.”

She smiled, not looking their way just yet. They grew surer and more dominant with each night. It was hard to believe that they had come to her as children. She’d been five and so shy of the boys who had called out to her in dreams.

She wanted to play with them now but not as children.

Her nipples tightened against the soft silk of her gown.

“If you don’t come to us, we’ll be forced to get you, sweetheart. It might not go well for you,” the more dominant voice said.

“He’s itching to spank you, love. Give him a reason.” This second voice was gentler, but there was no mistaking his interest.

Nor hers. She could explore everything in these dreams, and lately, her interests had taken a distinctly disciplinary tone. She wondered if they would really spank her. She wondered how it would feel.

“Yes, and you’ll love it.”

She felt a strong hand at her wrist and the scene changed. She was no longer in the palace, but some dark place where the marble at her feet was black and the room was dominated by an enormous bed draped with curtains.

Her Dark Ones stood by the bed. Twins. So alike she hadn’t been able to tell them apart at first, but then she’d assigned them numbers. One was the rougher of the twins, though his hands were always gentle on her skin. Two had a sweet smile and liked to talk dirty.

“Where are we?” she asked.

One’s brows rose. “We are where I want us to be. In our home. In our bed.”

Never answers. She’d grown accustomed. They were dressed identically in dark leather pants. Those clothes were unlike anything in Tir na nÓg. The leather they made here didn’t have the supple feel of the twins’ clothes.

“You’re beautiful tonight, love,” Two said with a long sigh. “But I would love to see more of you.”

One’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we explained this before. You don’t need garments around your men. You need only your own sweet skin.”

She crossed her arms over her breasts. “You have no problem with pants, I see.”

One’s lips curved up in a wicked smile, his satisfaction a palpable thing. “A bratty mouth will bring you nothing but trouble, sweetheart.”

He used that word often. Brat. She remembered her cousin calling her a brat when they were young. He would pull her pigtails lightly and laugh and call her brat. It was a phrase from the Vampire plane to speak of sweetly disobedient girls.

“I don’t see why I should be naked when the two of you are clothed.” She could feel the smile on her face. Her dreams had been more and more sensual in nature. In the last several years, since the dreams had flared back to life, each night they went a little further. It had started with an embrace, their arms wrapping around her when she’d realized they were once again with her. Those dreams had been little flashes she couldn’t seem to hold on to no matter how hard she tried. She’d clung to One and Two until they faded. Then gradually each had become more solid, the dreams lasting longer.

That was when the kissing had begun. What kisses they were. Long, slow kisses that seemed to last for hours. Just lips at first, and then One had boldly traced her lips with his tongue.

One was suddenly in front of her, his eyes warm as though he could read her thoughts. His hand came up, tracing her lips as his tongue had. “You like kissing.”

“I like kissing you.” She went up on her tiptoes, leaning in to brush her mouth against his.

He backed away, frowning. “Me? Who else do you kiss?”

She felt her eyes roll. Even in her dreams, men were difficult. “I’m twenty-seven years old. I have been caught by roving hands and held down for unwanted kisses. There isn’t a peasant alive who hasn’t suffered worse than me. I’ve had my guardian to protect me. Count yourself lucky that Gillian isn’t in my dreams, for you would find yourself unable to kiss me.”

“I think your guardian would show favor to our suit,” Two said from behind her.

Bron sighed. She loved being surrounded by them. One moved back in, his hand cupping her cheek.

“I don’t want another’s hand on you,” he said, his eyes serious.

She began to pull away. “I am a virgin, but I’m not without the experience of a man nearly taking from me that which is mine to give. If it had happened, you would not touch me. Leave me be. I’ll seek another dream.”

He pulled her close. “Stop, brat. I didn’t say that. I said I didn’t want another’s hand on you. You’re ours. Our love, our heart. You can’t expect us to be happy with such a thing.” He tangled a hand in her hair. “I hate that we are not able to protect you.”

She hated that they were not real. She wasn’t stupid. They were a projection of her own needs. When she had been a child, she’d needed companionship, and the Dark Ones had been there for her. Now, she needed love and protection, and her soul cried out for a lover she couldn’t take. And her Dark Ones were here for her. They were her dream and her nightly refuge.

She sighed and relaxed, letting her hands slide on his muscular chest. His skin was warm and smooth, covering corded muscle. One was so overwhelming. Two was softer. She needed them both, but now she craved One’s dominance. Her life was so out of control.

She wanted their touch.

“Kiss me,” she said.

One frowned down at her. “You sound like a princess when you say that. Do you think you can order me around, princess? Do you think I’m your slave?”

Two kissed the back of her neck, causing her to shiver. She couldn’t be sure, but she would almost swear she felt the lightest scrape of something sharp along her skin. “I damn well am her slave, brother.”

One reached out and smacked his twin’s head. “Don’t give up my game, brother. We both know who’s in charge, but when we’re bedding her, it’s going to be us in the lead.” He stared down at her, his deep, dark eyes pulling at her. “Princess, we’re going to be your Masters in the bedroom. Do you understand what that means?”

“You want me to be a slave?” The term rankled.

“I want you to be the submissive partner, princess. It’s the way relationships work where we come from. There’s a Dominant partner or partners and a submissive, usually the female. It means we’re to take care of you in all things.”

What did it say about the enormous responsibilities of the last thirteen years of her life that when she fantasized about a relationship, it was with men who wanted to take the lead? Still, she couldn’t let all of her control go. Not even in a dream.

“I can let you take the lead in this, but know I’m still my own woman.”

He chuckled lightly. “I wouldn’t have you any other way. You wouldn’t be alive today if you were less of a woman than you are.”

It was true, and she didn’t want to think about any of that right now. She didn’t want to think about the fact that she had to deal with the mayor tomorrow. The festival would be crowded enough that she could avoid him until she absolutely had to stand beside him and announce their engagement. She would play the demure fiancée and plead the harvest to keep from his company. As soon as the money was in Gillian’s hands, they would disappear.

Micha was a momentary problem. Her Dark Ones were more important.

“All right then, you should tell me what you want me to do. You seemed to have enjoyed kissing me before.” She directed her question to One since Two was once again preoccupied. His hands smoothed over her shoulders and down her arms as his mouth was again on the nape of her neck. The heat of his body surrounded her, and she could feel something hard pressed against her lower back.

His male part. His cock. She’d heard the village women giggle as they talked of their husbands and lovers. They often spoke of cocks and how much pleasure a cock could bring. Bron had watched the animals mate in the fields, but the women around her told her that making love to a man was very different.

This certainly felt different.

She rubbed back against Two.

“Hey. Don’t you forget me.” One pressed in, trapping her between their massive, muscular bodies. She was deliciously crushed in between them. “And I love kissing you, princess. We both do. Now calm down and let us take control. We’re getting closer. Can you feel it?”

Something did feel different. Their voices were stronger than before. Where they used to whisper, now they spoke in strong tones. Where the touches and caresses had once been light and soft as a spring breeze, they felt solid and real to her.

“I feel it. I want you here with me.” She wanted to never wake up. She wanted to sink so far into the dream that it became her reality. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about killing Torin or saving her people. She wouldn’t have to find a place to hide Mags and Ove. She wouldn’t have to plot ways to keep Micha’s hands off her. She could simply be their submissive.

One kissed her, his lips strong against her own. She shivered when she felt his tongue trace the seam of her lips at the exact moment Two’s fingertips began to pull down the bodice of her gown. The silky fabric skimmed her skin, and she opened for One’s invasion. One kissed her like a ravenously hungry man, his mouth slanting over hers again and again. He rubbed his tongue along hers, a slow, silky slide that heated her whole body.

She felt it again, that slight flash of something sharp nipping at her flesh, but it was gone in an instant. Cool air kissed her breasts as Two worked the bodice to her waist.

One’s head came up, and he stared down at her now-bare breasts.

It was only the second time she’d been naked in a dream, and in the first she’d been awakened by the damn rooster. She prayed dawn was far away.

“You’re so beautiful, princess,” One said, his voice husky.

“So fucking gorgeous,” Two whispered into her ear. “Think about how lovely these beauties will be when we dress them up.”

Big, strong hands cupped her breasts, offering them up to One, who reached out and began to play with her nipples. She whimpered as he pinched them.

“That’s right love, that’s a sweet sound.” He rolled the nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. He would gently tug and then punctuate it with a sharp, stinging pinch that sent shivers of arousal to her pussy. Her nipples tightened, and her every inch of skin began to come alive. “It sounds like the little princess likes our games, brother.”

“She’ll like the jewels I’ll pick out for her nipples, too.” Two nipped at her ear. “You’ll be a good girl, won’t you? You’ll let your Masters dress you up. We’ll bind you and hold you down for our pleasure. We’ll pierce these gorgeous nipples and play with the rings.”

“I don’t know about that last bit.” It was normal in some provinces, but she wasn’t sure about it. Still, it was just a dream. “Maybe. Who knows what I’ll let you do if you take care of me the way you’ve promised.”

“Still making demands.” One rubbed his nose against hers, the affection in the gesture making her heart skip. “I can’t wait to feel the flat of my hand on your ass.”

Two groaned behind her. “And I can’t wait to sink my fangs in you.”

She stopped. “Fangs?”

She would never dream of her Dark Ones with fangs. She’d never thought of them in anything but a funny way. Dante had fangs. Her husband would be sidhe, not a vampire. She stopped and tried to pull away.

“Hey.” Two’s hands tightened on her hips.

“Let me go.” What the hell was happening? This wasn’t her waking dream. When she thought about her Dark Ones, they were sidhe. They had some power, perhaps gentry royals. They would be her brothers’ loyalists. They would help the cause.

They wouldn’t be vampires.

“What’s wrong, princess?” One had tightened up, every muscle in his body taking on a tension.

It didn’t matter. This was her fantasy, and she could utterly ignore anything she wasn’t sure about. “Nothing. Touch me.”

The fingers on her nipples tightened to just the right side of pain. “You keep pushing me, brat. It makes me want to turn you over my knee.”

Again, a very vampire-like attitude. It was okay. She’d loved her cousin, Dante. She’d adored her aunt and uncle and spent time on the plane. If she thought about it, she rather believed that it was where her brothers were, safe and sound with the Dellacourts. It was only predictable that she dream of vampires. Vampires wouldn’t have to deal with Torin. Vampires were safe on their own plane.

It didn’t matter. All that mattered was pleasure.

“Turn me over your knee, then,” she said. “Just touch me. Any way you want.”

One smiled, his lips turning up slightly. “Tell her what you want to do, brother.”

Two’s hands found her hips, pulling her back against his cock. “I want to eat you, love.”

“What?” She wasn’t sure what to take that as. Was her dream becoming a nightmare?

One snorted, though he managed to make it sound regal. “Little virgin. He’s talking about licking and sucking on your pussy. He wants to taste you.”

She wasn’t an idiot. She’d listened in on the women of the village. Peasant women were much more willing to talk than her former friends and handlers at the palace. The villagers could be bawdy and boisterous, and when a bit of ale was introduced, they could be very honest around a woman of marriageable age. She understood what he wanted. Yes, she wanted to try that.

“All right.” The minute the words left her mouth, she was scooped up into Two’s arms, and he began to walk toward the big bed.

She cuddled up against his massive chest. She felt small and fragile. She knew she wasn’t. The last thirteen years had proven that beyond a shadow of a doubt, but it was so nice to feel protected and cherished even if it was only a dream.

He placed her on the bed. Somehow One had gotten there first. Two laid her down against One. Strong arms wrapped around her, the heat of his chest at her back. He nuzzled her cheek, kissing her lightly. His arms tightened around her.

“Stay still, love. Let my brother have his treat. He’s waited so long to taste you.” The words were hot on her skin.

Two pulled at the silk of the gown she wore, hauling it down her body until she was naked in front of them. She knew she would be horrified if this happened in her reality, but in the dream she felt sexy and beautiful. She loved the way Two stared down at her, his eyes widening as he took in her body.

She was perfect in this dream. She was soft, and her breasts were full. She was curvy the way beautiful royals were. Somehow her mind filled out her form to what it should have been. In the harsh light of day, she was typical of a woman who plowed fields for her existence. She wasn’t gaunt, but she wasn’t filled out the way a princess would be. She was a peasant and she looked it, but here she was everything she’d dreamed of being.

“You’re so lovely.” Two’s fingers skimmed over her skin.

And they were amazing. Dark hair and eyes. Perfect faces with sharply masculine features. They were everything she could have dreamed of.

Two caught her ankles and very gently forced her legs apart.

“Leave them there.” One whispered the command in her ear, his hands tweaking her nipples.

Two climbed on the bed looking like a big predatory cat. He got to his belly, his mouth hovered right over her pussy. “Can you smell her, brother?”

“She smells like she wants it,” One replied. “Do you want it, princess? Do you want my brother to sink his tongue deep inside your cunt? Do you want him to taste every inch of your pussy? To stroke your little clit until you come?”

“Yes.” A simple answer, but it came from her soul. She wanted more than the orgasm. She wanted to feel connected to them, to sink so far into them that she never had to feel alone again. She wanted this time when she could be Bronwyn again.

Bron gasped as his warm tongue slipped over her flesh. Her pussy lit up, beginning to pulse as blood rushed through her system. It was so intimate, so beautiful. She could feel her whole pussy soften and moisten. She was coming alive under his touch. She writhed as he drew his tongue over her clitoris.

Fingers tightened on her nipples, erotic pain flaring, making a sharp contrast to the soft pleasure at her core.

“You stay still, princess. You don’t want him to stop, do you? He’ll stop, and we’ll have to discipline you. If you don’t behave, you’ll feel the flat of my hand on that perfect ass of yours and then you’ll suck us both and get nothing in return.”

Despite the fact that everything inside her tightened at the thought of having One spank her, she didn’t want to lose Two’s tongue on her pussy. She was close, so close to something she’d never felt before. She’d played with herself, found comfort in masturbating, but this was something completely different. This was a massive quake where before she’d managed a gentle shaking. This was something utterly new.

One tortured her nipples while Two lashed her pussy with his tongue. Bron whimpered and cried, trying to float over the edge, but they kept it up. Two’s tongue danced all over her pussy, lighting her up but never spending enough time to force her over that ever-elusive edge. Two gently pulled back the petals of her pussy, licking and sucking every inch of her flesh.

“You taste so good.” The words seemed to sink into her skin. She felt his nose running over her pussy.

And then he speared her, his tongue fucking into her cunt as his cock would. While he pierced her with his tongue, he pressed on her clit, and she went flying.

* * * *

She came awake with a cry of joy on her lips.

Bronwyn sat straight up in bed, her chest heaving as she tried to drag air into her lungs. Her hands were shaking, her nipples still peaked and wanting.

Tears leaked out of her eyes.

She was awake, and they were gone once more.

Loneliness swept across her. She could still feel their hands on her, but she was alone. Brutally, painfully alone.

She stared out into the star-filled night and prayed for sleep to take her once more.

* * * *

Torin Finn stared out over his kingdom, trying not to let the screams and cries get to him. Normally the wailing of the condemned was simply a sign that all was right in his kingdom, but today the sound seemed to have actual weight and motion, pushing at him. He had a fucking headache from that damn noise.

Why couldn’t traitors die more quietly? Did they really have to scream every time they were stabbed or cut or had their fingernails pulled from their bodies?

He sighed. It was because they were unworthy. They were not sidhe. Sidhe died properly. Even his own brother had died with a quiet dignity, his bright gray eyes widening as the sword went through his heart. Seamus Finn had died as a king should, with rage in his eyes and no cry on his lips.

Yes, his brother had died well.

“I’m glad I did one thing right.”

Torin’s stomach turned. Fuck, he wished his brother would go away. Thirteen years and his brother was still here, still a shade who managed to whisper in Torin’s ear.

“Shut up, Seamus. Why didn’t you leave with your brethren?” The sluagh were gone. He’d had his guards check the caves near the palace. Torin knew it was most likely a bad sign. They had heard of his plans to destroy them, but the one thing he had been happy about was the fact that his fucking dead brother would be gone, too. No such luck.

“I didn’t become sluagh to join the happy little family. When I died, I sent my wife on, but tied myself to this place until such time as you no longer breathe air.” Seamus’s form shimmered, a sure sign that he was emotional. Even then, his voice remained a hoarse whisper. “I chose to stay here because I owe my children.”

Torin sighed. He’d heard this all before. Roughly three years after his successful coup, Seamus had shown up, having stored enough energy to make himself known. Torin had thought he was going insane. Those around him still believed he was. Seamus was excellent at hiding from all others.

Seamus liked to show up at the worst times. When Torin was giving a speech, he’d catch visions of his brother’s form. When he made love to his wife, Seamus stood and watched, those flint-gray eyes filled with judgment.

Torin hated his brother. Just like when he was alive, Seamus ruined everything simply by being around.

“My hags are going to make sure you never come back. They’re working on it now. The blood of traitors will banish you to the underworld, and then I won’t have to see you or listen to you prattle on ever again.”

Seamus laughed. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Even if you found a way to get rid of me, you can’t get rid of the me who lives inside you, Torin. That piece of me will never fade until you join me in death.”

Torin feared Seamus was right. Guilt weighed heavily on him, but he couldn’t go back. He was too close to finishing off those annoying boys. The Vampire Council had declared them criminals. The word was that Beck and Cian had fled the Vampire plane and were seeking asylum. Once they were caught and their bodies and that of the bitch they’d bonded to were hanged in the city square, the rebels would know all hope was gone.

Then he would take out all non-sidhe one by one if he had to. Including those disgusting, blood-drinking vampires.

All he had to do was kill two men.

“As long as they’re out there, you aren’t safe.” Seamus seemed to be able to read his mind. His brother leaned against the marbled wall of the palace balcony, his ghostly eyes going out over the city. Beyond, Seamus could surely see the fires that had been set in the country in an attempt to quell the current rebellion. “These are small rebellions run by peasants. What would you do if one of the nobles gave the rebels someone real to rally behind? You didn’t kill all those with royal blood. The rebellions will almost surely continue since you don’t know the first thing about running a country. Peasants don’t like it when you steal all the food and leave them with nothing.”

Torin’s fists clenched. “Traitors. They’re lucky I leave them alive.”

Seamus’s head shook. “Oh, brother, you’ve put them in the position where they have to choose between the king and their own lives—and the lives of their children. A king’s worth is in protection and shelter, and you offer neither. You’re a tyrant, Torin. It’s why father chose me over you.”

Their father had chosen Seamus over the eldest, rightful heir. Torin had been forced to bite his tongue and plot revenge for twenty fucking years. “Our father was an idiot who would have had us make friends with the monsters. As you would. You were seriously thinking about a marriage between the Unseelie and your daughter. It’s a good thing I did what I did or she would have been tortured beyond anything a girl should have to survive.”

Seamus snorted. “You call all non-sidhe creatures Unseelie, brother. It’s ridiculous. There are plenty of sidhe who are considered Unseelie. And many helpful races who are as Seelie as me.”

“The Unseelie are all half-breeds. Impure. Unworthy. I have plans for them.” As soon as he’d dealt with the royal vampires, he would handle the Unseelie. Within mere months, he would rule three planes. Ambition burned bright inside him. He wouldn’t stop until every sidhe bowed to him and his name was glorified for ridding the world of monsters.

A low wail pierced the night. Would the hags never be done?

“You allow a single incident to color your life, Torin. It was one group of goblins and trolls who nearly killed you,” Seamus pointed out.

Torin turned away. He didn’t think about the day. He didn’t think about how the small band of monsters had delighted in beating him and making him bleed. “Well, I think they would all pause before attempting to harm me again.”

“You’re a big man, oh yes. King Torin kills brownies and gnomes.” Disdain dripped from his brother’s voice.

“Yes, and you embraced them all.” Torin turned back to the ghost of his brother. “You were so fucking kind. You beat your own child.”

If a sluagh could pale, Seamus did it. His form faded a bit. “I thought I was helping him. I thought I was correcting his bad behavior as our father corrected mine. I see things differently now. This side allows for a full accounting of all that is true if one is open to it. I hate you for killing my wife, but one good thing came from it. Beck was freed from my rigid morality. He can become the man he always should have been, and Cian can get over my ignorance. And they’re both definitely better off without your bride.”

Maris. Lovely, blonde, frigid as an iceberg. And seemingly as fertile. She’d been promised to the symbiotic twins, the bondmate who would have bridged them, but she’d hated the idea. She’d been more than willing to help Torin in an effort to get out of a hated marriage.

At the time, she’d seemed a perfect bride. Thirteen years in, he’d given up going to her bed, but she still had her value. She was a bondmate, but suspicious of psychic powers. She’d managed to make the other bondmates somewhat comfortable, until they had figured out he wanted to use their powers to enhance his own. “You didn’t vet your pick properly, brother, or you would have known she hates non-sidhe as much as I do.”

“Your Highness?” A throaty voice broke through the quiet. Una. One of his hags burst into the room.

And just like that, Seamus was gone. Torin had no doubt in his mind that his brother was still hanging about, listening in and gathering information to torture him with later.

“What is it? Do you have the spell?” They were working on a spell to kill the sluagh. He needed to be rid of his troublesome brother.

Una was one of the singularly least attractive women he’d ever seen. Even in her human form, there was an air of decay that hung about her no glamor could ever mask. On the surface she was in her middle years, a plain woman with fair skin that no one should really notice, but once Torin stared at her for too long, the wrongness couldn’t be denied. Her sister Liadan had been the most skilled at glamour, but she was dead and the hags suspected the renegade royals had done her in.

Una shook that salt-and-pepper hair of hers. He noticed there was blood on her hands.

His head ached. The wailing wouldn’t stop. Glannis, Una’s remaining sister, joined her. Like the other hag, Glannis had streaks of blood marring her clothes and hands. Why were the stupid fucking brownies wailing when their torturers weren’t busy torturing them?

The noise sounded like it was coming from the walls themselves. “I’m making a new rule. Cut the prisoners’ tongues out before you start torturing them. I can’t stand to listen to the bastards scream anymore. Why is it so loud? They’re in the dungeon, are they not?”

Glannis wiped her hands on her skirt, seeming to not care that blood soaked the cotton. Her hair hung in clumpy strands, sweat dripping from her brow. “It would be rather hard to get any information out of them what’s if we cut their tongues from their heads. Do you be expecting them to talk out of their arseholes?”

He didn’t hesitate. He slapped her, adding to the blood on her clothes. Her head snapped back and a brutal cut opened on her lip. “You will watch your tongue around me, hag.”

“Aye, Your Majesty,” the hag replied, her tongue coming out to swipe at the blood on her chin.

The wailing reached epic proportions, threatening to shake the walls. Torin put his hands to his ears. “Go down to the dungeon and shut them the fuck up! Or I’ll have your tongues.”

Una shivered a bit. “It ain’t the brownies.”

He thought about plowing a fist into her face, but he still needed the bitches. “Then shut the goblins up. I don’t care who it is.”

Glannis pointed out the balcony toward the river that ran by the White Palace. “I think you should care, Your Majesty. It’s why we came up here. One of the guards saw her.”

Torin looked out, a cold chill invading his limbs. There was a single woman standing by the water’s edge, a piece of clothing in her hand, a wash basin at her side. She got to her knees, soaking the garment in the river water.

“What in all the planes is that dumb bitch doing?” Torin turned away only to see his brother standing in the background, a wicked smile on his face. He ignored Seamus. “Get the guards. Tell them to shoot that woman and hang her corpse up for all to see. And shut that wailing up.”

“The guards won’t go near her,” Una said. She wouldn’t come out on the balcony. Una wasn’t afraid of much. Her magic was based in blood. She killed with a perfection he’d seen in very few, but she was scared of a single woman washing her clothes?

The wailing. The washing. That eat-shit grin on his brother’s face.

“Bean sidhe?” The words came out on a hushed sigh. Even speaking the name made his stomach revolt.

“It can’t be too important.” Unlike her sibling, Glannis didn’t seem impressed by the legendary washer woman. “There’s only one of them.”

Una was nearly out the door now. “But they only wail for royal lines when death is near.”

For royal lines. He knew the washer woman’s tale. She was legendary across the planes. Some called her banshee, but here she was bean sidhe. The bean sidhe had three forms, the virgin, the mother, and the crone. Three forms of the same woman. She showed up before tragedies. She sang her song when a royal death was coming. He’d been smart enough to have his hags cast a spell over the palace three nights before his coup. The washer women had come—all three, but no one heard them.

Three would sing for a king. One for a prince.

Or a pretender. Seamus’s voice seeped into his head. The bean sidhe know what you are.

Could it be possible? Could the washer woman’s wail be for him?

“But we killed the girl.” Glannis waved off the bean sidhe. “It’s most likely the queen she sings for. ’Tis no great loss. You can take a new wife. A fertile one. The rebellions might die out if you had an heir of your own.”

His coup had been carefully prepared. He’d taken no chances. He’d planned for years, including paying soothsayers across three different planes. Each had seen the same thing—Bronwyn, his ridiculous puffball of a niece, was the one who could strike the killing blow. Beck and Cian could take the throne back, but they couldn’t kill him. Only that nitwit Bronwyn could.

But he’d buried her.

He turned to his brother. “You said you hated me for killing your wife.”

The hags stared at him like he’d gone insane.

“Your Majesty, we don’t hate you.” Una looked around as though she could suddenly feel something, but couldn’t see it. Glannis glanced around, too, but neither could catch sight of Seamus, it seemed. Seamus showed himself only to his brother.

Torin didn’t waste time on them. There were no explanations that could make sense, and he’d struck on something important. His brother’s words came back to him. Seamus had lost his smile.

His brother railed at him for the loss of his throne and his wife. He often spoke of Beck and Cian. And he never ever mentioned Bronwyn. Torin thought it was because a daughter was of no use outside what her hand in marriage could bring a kingdom. Seamus had ignored the girl except to lift her in his arms and twirl her around on occasion. He would pat her on the head and call her “little pixie.” She was insignificant.

Or was she? His brother had changed since his death. He fucking loved everyone now. Everyone except his little pixie.

“She’s alive.” It was the only explanation. Somehow the little twit had survived and lain out a body to be mistaken as her own. Perhaps that was why she’d set the fire.

Seamus shook his head, but he hadn’t been a decent liar in life, and his turn as a sluagh hadn’t fixed the problem.

Torin roared, the sound combining with the bean sidhe’s wail. He put a hand to Glannis’s throat and squeezed until the hag’s eyes bulged.

“Find Bronwyn Finn.”