Into the Fire (The Unseelie Court Book 4), Gwen Rivers [read full novel .TXT] 📗

The wolf is reluctant to cede control. Can I trust you not to linger here?

He sense’s the man’s determination. Nothing will stop me from getting to her.

With one last look at the carnage, the wolf recedes. Satisfaction radiates through him.

This is what awaits anyone who would harm my mate.

Through the Man’s Eyes

He needs to cooperate with the beast inside him, to gain its trust. Aiden looks around at the flames licking across what remains of the dead. The beast’s instincts had made this possible. It had ignored pain, the stabs of the blades. Wounds he can still feel oozing from his back and legs. and he can’t help but agree with the creature’s final sentiment. He too would do anything to protect Nic.

“Lady Jazz,” Aiden says as soon as the transformation is complete.

“Where have you been? Did you find the queen?” The girl throws her arms around him and squeezes for all she was worth. “I’ve missed you.”

He hugs her back. “It’s good to see you, too.”

She backs up and frowns at the streak of white in his dark hair. “What happened here?”

The only outer sign from the kiss of madness.

“Nothing you need to worry over.” He pulls away to study her. “You’ve grown since last I saw you. How much time passed on the mortal plane?”

“A little more than a year from the time you left.”

A shudder goes through him. Time moves differently across the Veil. Nic might live years to his minutes, or vice versa.

“Where is she?” Freda is much less welcoming than her daughter. “Where is our queen?”

Aiden shakes his head. Though the giantess Angrboda told him Nic had retreated to her family’s farm in western North Carolina, he doesn’t want to share that with Nic’s first. Her loyalties might be to Nic but she commands the Wild Hunt. Which is now controlled by the Shadow Throne’s new queen.

The Wild Hunt is a powerful ally and an even more deadly enemy.

“Gretchen was taken over,” he says. “By Fenrir. She—or rather the wolf—sides with Underhill. Together they rule the Unseelie Court.”

Freda curses.

He scans the throng of fey, who wear woebegone expressions. They are slack faced and appear as though they’ve witnessed one too many horrors.

Lowering his voice, he urges Freda, “You need to get these people out of here. Underhill is no longer safe for the fey.”

Freda is frowning at his bloody shoulder. “You’re hurt.”

Aiden waves it off. “I’ll heal.”

She blows out an impatient sigh. “First thing’s first. Put on some clothes and for the love of the gods, put out this fire.”

He waves a hand and the flames die down to coals and smoking embers. “I can only help with one, I’m afraid. No garments.”

“Well, we can’t bring you bare-assed before the king.” Freda turns to her offspring. “Daughter, go find something for the wolf to wear. And a healer. Nic will flay me alive if he dies.”

“Yes, Jord.” Jasmine runs off to obey her mother’s command.

“You were in the other Seelie kingdom?” Freda removes her black cloak and hands it to him. “Does the Gray Throne still stand?”

“The throne stands but not much else.” He shakes his head as he recalls the rubble of the sea glass palace. “Underhill brought it down as a message to Wardon and any who would oppose her. And when she figures out the shield is down….”

“She’ll do the same thing here.” Freda finishes his thought

Jasmine returns with a pair of pants that are a good deal too short and a battered linen shirt which has one sleeve ripped off. “This was the best they could do.”

Unsurprising, since the fey have no textiles or industry. All their clothing has been stolen from the mortal realm.

“A healer?” Freda asks.

Jasmine’s smile dims. “None are available.”

Meaning none would come to help him after what they saw him do. He forces himself to show no reaction. “All I really need is a hot meal and I’ll be as good as new.”

“I’ll show you where the kitchen is.” Jasmine snags his hand.

Her sweetness and light are a balm to his shunned soul. If none of the other fey are worth saving, little Lady Jazz certainly is.

“I need to oversee the dispatch of any that aren’t finished.” Freda dons her winged helmet. “I’ll meet you in the throne room in one hour.”

She moves away from the field of battle where the Wild Hunt is dealing with any of the straggling Draugar.

“Come, Lady Jazz. I believe a hero’s feast awaits us.”

She grins and then leads him over the barrier to the inner sanctum of the last standing fey kingdom. The trees are taller than most skyscrapers and come in every color of the rainbow. Silver with purple leaves, gold with blue. Their branches intertwine and stretch on to create roads and bridges through the air. Beneath the boughs, small huts and houses have been constructed, more like nests with roofs than any real house. The fey gawk as they pass by, their expressions ranging from amazement to distrust.

He doesn’t meet their stares, uncomfortable with their scrutiny.

“Did Nic find you?” Jasmine asks him. “She was desperate to reach you.”

Desperate to reach him. The thought causes a small smile to tug his lips up. “I saw her.”

“That’s good.” Jasmine leads him down some stairs that seem to be carved from nothing but roots and dirt. “The food is all down here.”

He follows her down more cautiously. The wolf is uneasy with the confined space but the smell of roasting meat goads him onward.

“Rask?” Jasmine asks a potbellied fey with long white eyebrows and a scowl who is stirring a large cauldron of bubbling brown liquid. “The First told me to ask you for a meal for my friend here.”

“Hmmph,” the fey called Rask grumps. “Next meal’s not for another three hours.”

Aiden opens his mouth to tell the fey that he’s going to keep the king and his court waiting but Jasmine is faster off the mark. “Please, Rask? I know you don’t like to feed anyone between meals,