Page 4 of Cathmoir’s Sons (Bad Boys of Bevington #5)

Chapter 4

An Envoy From Ashegold

LAW

N ot for the first time tonight, I contemplate how much trouble I’d be in with my father if I beheaded the Holly King.

I could do it. He’s not wearing armor. His knight’s distracted by all of the high fae glitterati here tonight, not the least of whom is my mate. She’s living up to her moniker of Faery’s dark star. Her hair’s down, pulled back from her face with jeweled clips and flowing down to her shoulders, which are temptingly bared by a midnight blue, strapless gown. I should kill him just for looking at what the corset-top is doing to my mate’s breasts. Were they ever that plump and bitable when she was above me? Under me? It feels so long ago I can’t remember even though I know in what tiny part of my mind retains rational thought that it’s been less than three weeks.

At least he can’t see her legs, hidden by the long skirts of her gown. Although I couldn’t possibly pick one feature of my mate that I like the best, her legs are up there on any list. Long, strong, and curvy. Having them wrapped around me, clasping my hips, is central to all my best memories.

I hate that they are just memories.

I understand why she’s rejected me. It was cowardly of me not to tell her the whole truth long before the battle with Bromios. There’s always a price to pay for cowardice.

I’m paying it now. Every breath hitches and aches because my body won’t heal without sleep and sleep is an impossibility without my mate in my arms. My mind’s an unending cycle of want-need-want-need that makes it impossible for me to think beyond the fact that Kellan’s not in my bed. I’d be killed if I tried to battle the Mirk right now, wounded and distracted, so I’m failing my people as well as my mate.

Probably not the best time to kill a high fae king and enrage my father.

Still, his bare throat is so tempting.

I lick my fangs and swallow against the temptation.

He watches me, his eyes as crimson as his hair tonight. He’s not afraid or wary and I’m reminded that he was a knight before he became a king. His apparent defenselessness might be a ruse.

I tear my gaze away from him and watch my twin dance with our mate. He’s holding her tightly, like she’s tried to wriggle away from him. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has. She’s refused to have anything to do with any of us since the battle of Jedburgh Abbey. My mother’s kept in touch with her through my mother’s usual mysterious means and has reassured us Kellan’s okay in body if not in spirit. Seeing Kellan with her friends both here and at Jane Serpa’s townhouse gives me comfort that she’s not spiraling again. But she barely ever smiles, and I’ve heard her crying every night I’ve sat outside her mentor’s house in my Cait form.

At least she’s letting Luca hold her. I’d give a great deal to be in my twin’s shoes right now.

“I’m going to ask Kellan to dance,” the Holly King announces.

I grip the table to keep from pouncing on him. I could tear out his throat with one bite and take off his head with another. I bet that would kill even a high fae king.

“One of us is with you at all times,” I remind him.

“You’re welcome to dance with us. Perhaps, if I cut in, you can partner your brother?”

There’s not even a smile in his voice. Either because he has no sense of humor, which I don’t think is the case, or because he’s perfected speaking without inflection. That is, I grudgingly admit, a good skill for a king to have.

“Since you’re a stranger to her,” I respond, emphasizing stranger . “She’s not going to want to dance cheek-to-cheek with you. Plenty of room out there for three or four or even five of us to dance together.”

I tip my head at the Holly King’s knight, Aehelwen, who has been watching this exchange with a bored air, until I mention group dancing. Then he’s out of his seat as quickly as a Cait would move. He holds the back of the Holly King’s chair, pulling it a little away from the table.

“I’d be delighted to dance with you, sire,” Aehelwen says.

The Holly King chuckles. “And I with you, my rose.” He rises and places his hand on Aehelwen’s arm when the knight holds it out for him. Aehelwen starts toward the dance floor.

I slip past them and lead the way to my mate.

Luca gives her warning that we’re coming. She turns to look at our little entourage.

As her eyes meet mine, they flare the clearest, crystal blue.

My heart seizes. Caileán .

I wait to see if her cloak of feathers appears. It doesn’t. But she shakes her shoulders so her hair falls back over them and stands a little straighter, pushing her breasts even higher in that criminally curvy corset.

When we reach her, she extends her hand regally to the Holly King. He looks taken aback, then recovers, bowing over her hand and brushing a kiss over her knuckles.

With a wicked smile, she turns and extends her hand to me. I bow deeper than the Holly King, even though the motion jabs a hot knife into my wounded side and take my time lavishing kisses over her knuckles.

“My queen.”

“My Cait,” she responds, her burning eyes tracking down my torso. “Do you still ail from that Mirk blade?”

I shrug. I won’t admit weakness in this nest of high fae. “I’m always ready to serve you, my queen.”

Her eyes narrow slightly but she nods before turning that ice-fire gaze on the Holly King. “Aranthann. Aehelwen. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Kellan—” the Holly King begins.

“Caileán,” she corrects him. “I understand from my Cait that you intend to court me.” She puts a hand on Luca’s shoulder, her claws curling into the fabric of his tuxedo. “I’m flattered by your attention.”

“But do you welcome it?” the Holly King asks.

“I welcome the friendship of any who approach me with an open mind and kind intentions.”

“And if my intentions are more than friendship?” he persists.

I hate him. I should have pounced.

“Then I’m doubly flattered,” she says. “I look forward to getting to know you better. And to understanding your full intentions.”

The Holly King smiles, but it’s not a warm, open smile, or even the tolerant, neutral smile he’s been giving me. This is the smile of someone who’s just recognized a worthy adversary.

“Shall we dance?” he asks.

Caileán tips her head to the side. “Would you forgive me if I say this bod—that I’m fatigued? I’m still recovering from the battle and its aftermath. Would you sit with me for a few minutes before I retire?”

The Holly King bows. “Of course.”

He moves away from Aehelwen and offers Caileán his arm. Seeing her curl her claws around the Holly King’s arm makes me want to rip it off the way Luca did the arm of that Mirk Rider.

Sulking, I follow them back to the Holly King’s table.

We’re not the Holly King’s only guests. Three other fae lords and their significant others, knights, and squires came with him. Two are very much in the high fae mold: haughty and disapproving of Teddy Nowak’s relaxed ball. The other one, a female fae that the Holly King introduced only as Rae, and who is wearing a white, hook-nosed mask that reminds me of a human plague doctor, hasn’t spoken but there hasn’t been any disdain in her black eyes as she’s watched the party go on around her.

Rae is the only one still at the table when we return. She’s talking to the hostess herself, who is sitting in a chair next to Rae while one of her husbands, tall, dark-haired, and wearing a kilt under his tuxedo jacket, stands behind the chair gently massaging her shoulders.

As the Holly King seats himself on Teddy’s far side and her husband moves out of the way for Aehelwen to hold the Holly King’s chair, I get a good sniff of him. There’s a powdery, baby smell to him. Under the scent of their baby, I smell cloves, the brine of seawater, and the faintest whiff of brimstone. Ah, this is the husband with demon blood. Gabriel Tate-Wilson. Luca’s mentioned him. And Luca believes the demon he’s related to was the one who ended the battle of Jedburgh Abbey: Jouvart D’Asmodei, Baron Ash. Luca’s beyond desperate for an introduction to the Baroness, although I’m not sure why.

Teddy watches Caileán seat herself beside the Holly King. “Feeling okay, Kells?” she asks.

Caileán doesn’t correct Teddy the way she did the Holly King. “Tired. You’ll forgive me if I make it an early night?”

Teddy nods. “No worries, mate.”

Her British accent is strong and unusual. It’s not Cockney. This accent’s brash, almost harsh. Certainly not the soft, local Scottish accent. I wonder where Teddy is from and how she ended up a princess of Thistlemist. She doesn’t fit my expectations for high fae royalty, except that she’s wearing a sleeveless, empire-waist ball gown of deep aquamarine that shows off shoulders even stronger than my mate’s.

I’d very much like to introduce myself to Teddy and spend some time getting to know one of my mate’s best friends, but tonight is not the night for that, when Luca and I aren’t supposed to be here. I sit next to Caileán before Aehelwen has a chance to and Luca seats himself next to me, across from Rae. With no good seating options, Aehelwen remains standing behind the Holly King’s chair much like Teddy’s husband.

“Teddy, have you met Aranthann and Aehelwen?” Caileán asks.

Teddy’s brown eyes flick from her friend to the Holly King. If she’s surprised at being introduced so informally to the Holly King, she doesn’t let it show. “I have. Have you been introduced to Rae?”

Caileán shakes her head and turns her burning-bright eyes on the fae in the plague doctor mask. She stiffens like she’s had an electric shock. I put my hand on the back of her chair, so she knows I’m ready to protect her in whatever way she needs.

“Rae?” Caileán says, a question in her voice.

“Braelin Greenlaw of Ashegold,” Teddy says.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Caileán responds. Then she says a word that sounds like Rae but not. More like Reina.

The fae lady bows her head. “Caileán.”

She rolls my mate’s name. Her accent’s sea mist and heather compared to Teddy’s yellow fog and concrete. It could be her accent, but I think she says Caileán instead of Kellan.

“Rae was just offering to take us on a pub tour of Dingle,” Teddy tells Caileán. “I think we know where our next Girls’ Night is taking place.”

Caileán grins. “I’m up for that.”

She slides one of her hands off the table and pats her thigh. She continues talking to Teddy and Rae while she pats her thigh again.

I let my arm slip down from the back of her chair and put my hand on her thigh.

She strokes the back of my hand with her fingertips, then begins tracing something on my knuckles with her claw. I shift a little closer to her to conceal the motion and tip my face close to her neck to enjoy her scent.

“Is it girls only on these nights out?” The Holly King asks.

Beside me, Luca scoffs quietly, probably too quietly for anyone but me to hear. I share his sentiment. Girls’ nights are clearly sacred to our mate.

“Afraid so,” Teddy says. “But my boys usually follow a bar behind us when we’re out. You’re welcome to tag along. All of you.” She nods at me and Luca.

“Human bars?” Luca asks. “No thanks. They stink like piss and weak beer.”

“Not bars in Ireland,” Rae says. “They stink like piss and strong beer.”

Everyone around the table laughs.

“Please let me know when the next of these nights out is arranged,” the Holly King says, sounding older than my grandfather and twice as stiff. Maybe he needs to loosen his briefs under those robes.

“Sure, mate,” Teddy says. “Gabe, can you add Aehelwen to our party chat?”

She twists to smile up at her husband.

While all eyes are on Teddy and the demonkin, Caileán digs her claw into my knuckle, then rubs her thumb across the back of my hand, smearing the blood.

“Come in an hour,” she whispers to me. Then she turns to the Holly King. “Will you forgive me? I’m fatigued.”

“Of course.” He rises and bows to her, taking a step back so his horns don’t catch her. “Perhaps I could see you tomorrow before I return to Ivywhile?”

“I’d like that,” she responds. “Noon here? We could take a nice ... walk around the Thistlemist gardens.”

Luca sniggers almost silently.

“I’ll look forward to it.” The Holly King bows again.

Caileán nods to everyone around the table before she slips away, pausing at the high table where Jane Serpa sits talking with Callan Dùbhghlas and an ancient fae lady. Jane says her goodnights quickly and accompanies Caileán out of the ballroom.

“I’m going to get a drink,” I say when the Holly King starts to sit down. I don’t offer to bring him anything, which is probably discourteous of me as his guest, but he just made a date with my mate, so I’m not feeling friendly.

As I leave the table, I beckon Luca after me with a finger. He follows me to the bar and while the bartender fixes our scotch and soda, I show him the back of my hand.

He licks away the blood, then examines the scratches. “It’s an incantation. I don’t want to say it out loud, but I think it’ll take us to the Court of Cold Mist when I do.”

“She said come in an hour,” I say.

Luca beams. “She wants us to join her at Ceòfuar.”

I clap him on the shoulder. “Beats a walk in the Thistlemist gardens.”

Luca chortles.

We kill the hour sipping our drinks and talking to Rae. Now that she’s broken her silence, she’s friendly, asking us about Bevington when Luca tells her we’re students there. She doesn’t show any recognition when we mention teachers or classes, but it’s hard to gauge her expression with the mask covering her face. She tells us about the great pubs in Ireland and encourages us to visit Ashegold. I ask careful questions about wild fae at the Irish court and am encouraged when she says that Ashegold is more welcoming than Thistlemist.

As the hour wanes, Rae excuses herself. Luca and I follow so it looks like we’re pursuing her. We leave the Holly King smirking.

It’s tempting to whisper where we’re really going and wipe that smug smile off his fucking high fae face. So tempting. But the promise of holding my mate again tonight without his interference keeps me silent.

It takes Luca and me a good ten minutes to find a private corner to recite the incantation. Thistlemist is just crawling with high fae. They’re in every nook and cranny, most of them humping furtively.

“Don’t they have beds at this court?” Luca hisses when we turn away from yet another promising dead-end after we smell what’s happening in it.

“Perhaps they’re uncomfortable,” I suggest. “All those soft mattresses and fuzzy peas.”

Luca chuckles. I’m sure he remembers the “princess pea story” as well as I do. It was Aine’s favorite story when she was a toddler. She had an illustrated book and the pea was covered with fluffy green fabric. She’d cry if one of us didn’t read her the “fuzzy pea” story every night.

“Perhaps they’re occupied by their husbands and wives,” Luca quips.

I nod. I noticed many couples who seemed together at the beginning of the ball but were straying by the time we left. The high fae are notorious for their infidelities as they chase after heirs.

“Do you think the need for an heir could be behind the Holly King’s suit?” I ask Luca.

He shrugs. “That’s as plausible as any other reason.”

“I don’t trust him,” I tell Luca, not for the first time.

“Me, neither. I noticed you eying his head. Good job not biting it off. Dad would’ve been upset.”

I grin. “It’s a monumental temptation. And I still haven’t ruled it out completely.”

Luca chuckles and beckons me down another alley. He stops and takes a deep sniff. I follow suit. It stinks of sweat and semen, but the smell isn’t fresh.

We slip down the alley until we can’t see or hear anyone. Luca takes my hand and licks over Caileán’s scratches again. He’ll be able to feel them with his tongue, although I very much doubt Luca’s forgotten them, since he barely ever forgets anything he’s seen.

“Let the doors no more close,” Luca whispers in Cait. “Take us to the Queen of the Dark.”

I feel a tug just south of my navel, which ripples down to my balls and gives them a firm squeeze. Luca grunts as he’s hit by the same compulsion. Then the gray stone and winter night of Thistlemist disappear and the glassy walls of Ceòfuar rise above us.

Caileán’s standing at the tower’s gate, waiting for us, wearing nothing but her gorgeous skin. A piskie sheep nibbles at the grass by her feet.

I don’t even give the sheep a glance as I race to our mate and catch her up in my arms.