Hunter rattled the chains that held him to the whipping posts. “Let me loose,” he rasped, “and I’ll get on with it.”
Bane laughed. “Don’t get me wrong, Boyo. I’m not eager to face my doom. Not that you’d match up so well against me right now anyway. Your knees must be feeling a little weak, no?”
Hunter wondered what the chances were of goading Bane into setting him free for a fight. He decided the chances were nil as long as the goblin was convinced Hunter would kill him somehow. Resigned to his eventual fate the goblin might be, but he wasn’t rushing to meet it.
Bane came closer and gave Hunter a shove in the chest. Hunter staggered, but managed to keep his legs under him. Bane made a disapproving noise.
“Still pretty steady, aren’t you? Let’s see if we can weaken those knees a bit.”
Hunter made a vain attempt to kick the goblin, but of course Bane was ready for it and dodged easily.
The lashes resumed, starting at his already-raw shoulders and inching down his back. He held on to his sanity with desperate strength, for if he let himself go he would start screaming. He refused to give Bane that satisfaction.
He had just enough rational thought left in him to realize that Bane had stopped the whipping when he sensed Hunter sliding toward that numb state of oblivion. Maybe Hunter could take advantage of the goblin’s sadistic desire to make sure he was fully aware of every stroke.
Hunter slowly let himself sag. Even though there was plenty of strength still in his legs, he bent his knees, letting the manacles support his weight as he lowered his chin to his chest. Bane muttered something about how Hunter’s time in the mortal world had made him into a weakling, and Hunter fought a smile as the lashes ceased. It was only the smallest of victories, but he’d take any victory he could get. And if that victory should save him a fraction of the pain he was destined to suffer, that was a nice bonus.
****
Her mother was pale as death, and Conan looked as though he’d been turned to stone.
Kiera sat up straighter and met their shocked stares with a calm that surprised even her. Her plan was crazy-dangerous, and woefully incomplete, but at least it offered a sliver of hope.
“You’re going to offer to give up your baby,” her mother whispered, as if she couldn’t believe the words.
“Offer being the operative word,” Kiera reminded her. “I’m sure they’ll know we’re up to something, but they’ll jump at anything that might make us open the door.”
Her plan was to offer to give up the baby of her own free will—if the goblins brought Hunter to her, alive and whole. She knew the Queen’s henchmen would go for it, knew they’d bring Hunter out of Faerie and right to her front door, whether they believed her offer was sincere or not. She hadn’t exactly worked out the details of what she would do when they brought him, beyond the thought that between her, her mother, and Conan, they would “somehow” find a way to rescue him. But if nothing else, it would give Hunter a chance to make his own escape.
“You would gain nothing by such a plan,” Conan said. “Nothing save the pain of having what you want dangled right in front of you where you can’t get it.”
“Not true,” she argued. “I would get Hunter out of Faerie.”
He curled his lips in disdain. “Temporarily. We cannot open the door for anyone, not even him.”
She ignored him, turning instead to her mother. “I can’t just let Hunter suffer without trying to help,” she said, a pleading edge in her voice. “Maybe this will all come to nothing. Maybe it will work and will only delay the inevitable. But the attempt would be worth something, at least to me. Besides, if they don’t go for it, there’s no harm done.”
“Oh, there you’re wrong, I can assure you,” Conan interrupted. “They’ll take you up on your offer, all right. And they’ll turn Hunter into a Trojan horse.”
“Conan—” she tried, but he spoke loudly over her objections.
“If he’s right outside your door, you won’t be able to resist the temptation to let him in, no matter what the danger. Do you think he’d be the only Unseelie creature to enter?”
“Why don’t you turn into a dog and shut up!” she snapped. His objection was perfectly reasonable, given the incomplete nature of her plan, but that didn’t mean she was going to put up with his naysaying.
Her mother held out a placating hand to each of them. “All right,” she said quietly, “let’s just stay calm and talk this over rationally.”
Conan turned his glare to her. “Your daughter is going to risk everything on a futile venture that could very well get you and me killed right along with her.”
“Your damned guard dog is sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong,” Kiera retorted.
Her mother rubbed her face wearily. “How did I become the referee?”
Conan sniffed. “You volunteered.”
“Listen,” Kiera said, “the situation is desperate however we cut it. We’re trapped in this house. Even if we keep holding them off and manage not to starve to death, what will that gain us? Are we going to stay here forever? And when I have the baby, is it supposed to live its entire life trapped in this house?”
“I don’t see how promising to give them the baby if they bring Hunter to you is going to improve the situation any,” Conan growled. “Even if we miraculously got him through the door without the Unseelie horde breaking through, you would merely add a fourth occupant to help diminish our food supply.”
Her temper far past the breaking point, Kiera shot to her feet and did her best to tower over him, though his fey dignity made him seem taller than he was. “Why don’t you just go back to Faerie and save yourself, then? It’s not you the goblins want. You can just wash your hands of us and be done with it. Chalk it up to mortal stupidity!”
Conan rose from the sofa, his eyes blazing. When he reached his full height, the aura of strength and anger that surrounded him caused her to take an involuntary step backward. “I’ll chalk it up to mortal stupidity that you think somehow my concerns are centered upon my own well-being.” He looked as ferocious in his human form as he did as a snarling dog. Logically, Kiera knew he wouldn’t hurt her, but he was still damned intimidating.
If he’d looked any angrier, sparks would have flown off him. Kiera’s mother approached him warily, reaching for his shoulder. “Conan . . .”
His posture still rigid, he turned to face her, and Kiera let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“If Kiera is dead set on doing this, then there’s nothing we can do to stop her,” her mom said, her voice low and soothing.
“I can think of any number of ways,” he countered.
“None that I’d let you get away with!”
“Do you think you could stop me?”
Kiera remembered how fondly they’d been looking at each other this morning when she’d come down for breakfast, and she experienced a twinge of guilt. Her mother’s face was flushed with anger, and Conan was leaning into her like a bully, fists clenched at his sides.
“Don’t do this, okay?” Kiera begged, her own anger melting as she realized the strife she was causing. “Maybe we can set up some kind of secondary barrier around the doorway. Mom could ward that barrier and you two could stay behind it. That way if the goblins do breech the doorway Hunter and I will be the only ones at risk.”
“And the child,” her mother reminded her.
Kiera raised her chin. “We’re all at risk anyway.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to invite it in!” Conan snapped. The air around him was shimmering, as if he were on the verge of changing into his dog form. Kiera had a feeling that if he did, he might very well bite someone. Her, to be more precise.
“Please try to understand. I can’t just hide in here and do nothing. Not while I know they’re torturing the man I love.” Her voice choked and she swallowed a sob.
Conan’s anger seemed to have dulled to a brooding simmer. “He may be dead already.”
>
Kiera winced. “If that’s so, then all of this arguing is pointless.” She waited to see if Conan was going to raise another objection, but he stayed quiet. Then she turned to her mom. “Can you create a ward behind the doorway?”
Her mom shook her head. “Not necessary, sweetheart. You’ll need all the help you can get keeping them out.”
“I don’t want you risking yourself. Or even Conan, for that matter.”
But her mom’s expression was implacable. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it together. Period.”
Reluctantly, Kiera conceded. She still didn’t know what she was going to do if and when the goblins delivered Hunter to her doorstep. But if he was still alive, she had to get him out of Faerie as soon as possible, to stop whatever gruesome punishment his mother was inflicting. If that meant she had to improvise a bit later, then so be it.
****
Hunter had no idea how long he’d been tied to the whipping posts when he heard his mother’s voice drifting to his ears. He was hanging limply from the manacles, his shoulders screaming in protest at having to support his weight. But when he sagged in his chains, Bane invariably stopped the whipping until he “revived,” and Hunter took a perverse pleasure in the goblin’s impatience and frustration.
His mother’s voice was coming closer and now he could hear her words as she spoke to the goblin.
“I’m impressed by your abilities,” she said. “I would not have thought you could break him so quickly.”
“He’s still not fully broken,” Bane answered. “I haven’t been able to persuade him to sing for me yet.”
She sighed with evident regret. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to deny you that pleasure for the time being. Finvarra’s bastard has barricaded herself into her mother’s house. She promises to give us the child if we let Hunter go.” Bane made an ugly snorting sound, and the Queen laughed. “Yes, of course it is a bluff. How she thinks she will manage to get Hunter safely into her house without being taken herself, I don’t know. But I’ve a mind to humor her. The reunion should be quite . . . touching.”
Hunter’s sagging spirit revived a little. What was Kiera up to? Ice-cold fingers touched one of the open welts on his back and he had to fight the urge to shudder away from that touch.
“Your lady love isn’t terribly bright, is she my son? After all, she will have to open her door and remove the wardings to let you in.”
He made no reaction to her words or her touch, hanging limply, his head lolling to his chest, his eyes half-closed as his mind raced with questions. The Queen clucked her tongue.
“You disappoint me,” she told him. “I thought you had more fortitude than this. At this rate, you will barely outlast your dear father, and he was nothing but a mortal.”
The chains holding him up suddenly released. His reflexes urged him to stiffen his knees and support his weight, but he fought them and allowed himself to flop to the cold, blood-slicked flagstones below him. He moaned softly and stirred, as if barely clinging to consciousness.
“Well, we cannot show up on the little lady’s doorstep with this pathetic specimen,” the Queen said. “Chain his wrists and ankles, and we’ll see if we can get him onto his feet.”
Hunter’s heart was beating steadily faster and it was becoming harder to fake his broken state. His ruse was working better than he could possibly have hoped. He was weakened by pain and blood loss, to be sure, but if he had a weapon on him, he’d have a fair chance of taking out the Queen. Too bad he was unarmed. If he’d thought he could kill the Queen with his bare hands, he’d have tried it, but she was made of sterner stuff than that.
Bane, his clawed hands shielded by heavy leather gloves, fastened shackles onto Hunter’s wrists and ankles. Hunter smelled a hint of iron in the air, and the shackles burned on his skin. Not as fiercely as they would a full-blooded fey, but the pain drew a choked cry from his throat before he could stop it. Bane would have loved it, only the gloves seemed to have only partially protected his hands, and he was too busy wincing and baring his teeth to gloat over Hunter’s reaction.
The shackles continued to burn on Hunter’s wrists and ankles. If he were full-blooded fey, the shackles would eventually burn their way clear through his flesh and bones, but with his mortal blood, they merely hurt like hell. But the burning gave him an idea.
Bane had turned Hunter on his side to put the shackles on, but now he kicked Hunter back onto his stomach, forcing him to lie on his chained and shackled hands. Hunter assumed it was nothing but another touch of cruelty, until the Queen spoke.
“This will sting, my son,” she said, her voice full of laughter.
Moments later, something splashed onto the wounds on his back. Every welt flamed back to life at once, the pain blinding him. It was all he could do not to scream, for it felt like she had poured acid on those open wounds. He was dimly aware of Bane’s chuckling, and he used his fury at the creature’s sadism to help keep himself under control.
Eventually, the pain started to fade. Hunter breathed deeply, his body now closer to real exhaustion. But he still had some strength in him. It would have to be enough.
A clawed hand grabbed his shoulder and turned him over onto his back. He fluttered his eyelids open and saw the Queen’s face hovering over him, a cruel smile on her bloodred lips. She bent so that her hair trailed over the naked flesh of his chest. His skin twitched as though trying to escape even that much contact with her. Not far behind her, Bane was leaning against one of the whipping posts, his arms and ankles crossed in a posture of smug confidence.
“I can’t believe I coddled such a mewling weakling for so long,” the Queen sneered, though her eyes gave every indication she was pleased with his pain and weakness. “It appears I will have to prepare a potion just to get you onto your feet.”
She started to rise, and he leapt into action.
Hunter launched himself upward, swinging his arms over the Queen’s head. She gave a cry of surprise, then fell forward onto him when the chain between his wrists hit the back of her neck. At first, she was too startled to put up an effective resistance; then, it was too late.
Hunter spun her onto her back, wrapping the chain around her throat and stilling her kicking legs by trapping them with his own. He pulled hard on the chain and heard her breath coming in gasps, then not coming at all. The stink of burning filled the air, and Hunter felt the chain eating its way into the Queen’s throat. Bane tried to get at him, but Hunter used the Queen’s body as a shield. Her hands clawed at his, but though her nails scored his fingers, he did not loosen his grip.
She was weakening, her struggles becoming sluggish. Bane lunged in desperation, and Hunter was too slow moving his human shield into place. The goblin’s claws raked through the flesh of his shoulder, but Hunter held on, twisting until Bane had to back off or risk slashing the Queen. Her fingers fell away from Hunter’s hands, and her body slumped. Still, he did not let up. What a fool he would feel if he fell for the same trick he himself had employed.
Bane stopped trying to get at him, was now just standing there and staring in shock and dismay. He shook his head. “You can let go now, Boyo. She’s dead.”
Hunter held on desperately, trying to feel for her heartbeat, but his own heart was thundering too hard. He didn’t dare let go until he was absolutely sure, maybe not even until the iron had eaten its way through her neck and severed her head.
Bane unsheathed his knife. Hunter made sure to keep the Queen’s body between them as the goblin approached. But Bane for once wasn’t coming after him. The goblin stuck the point of his knife into the Queen’s foot. She did not move.
“See?” the goblin said. “She’s dead. Now let go.”
His body quivering with exhaustion, Hunter loosened his grip and allowed her body to slide off of him and onto the ground. She showed no hint of life, her eyes open and staring, her neck blackened and charred, the burns so deep they almost reached her spine. Bits of ash clung to the chain between
his hands. Hunter looked up, expecting to see Bane’s knife coming his way. Instead, the goblin re-sheathed it and pulled a ring of keys from his belt.
Hunter thought perhaps he had slipped into a dream. Bane gingerly unlocked the shackles at his feet, then handed him a pair of pants. Hunter hadn’t even noticed the pile of clothing that the Queen had brought to dress him in. Keeping a wary and very puzzled eye on the goblin, he pulled them on. Bane showed no inclination to remove the shackles from Hunter’s wrists.
“Hurry up,” Bane grunted, grabbing hold of Hunter’s arm and tugging the moment his zipper was up.
Hunter stumbled and almost fell. His body was severely weakened by everything he had gone through, and by the continued contact with the iron shackles. Bane continued to drag him along. Hunter got his feet back under him, and Bane broke into a jog. Hunter matched his pace, and Bane let go of his arm.
“What the hell are you doing?” Hunter asked, shaking his head to try to clear the fog.
“Getting the hell out of here, what do you think?”
Hunter followed him into a tunnel that led under the palace. Behind them in the courtyard, a cry of alarm split the air.
“Fuck!” Bane cried, grabbing Hunter’s arm again. “Hurry, you worthless piece of shit!”
The jog turned into an all-out run. When Hunter tried to slow the pace, the goblin dug his claws into his arm. Deciding he would try to make sense out of this later, Hunter followed. The cries behind them multiplied, and an alarm bell started clanging. Bane cursed ever more foully, but kept running, leading Hunter through tunnels and passages he never knew existed. Once, they almost rushed headlong into a goblin patrol, but Bane pulled up just in time. They pressed themselves into a pool of shadow as the patrol hurried down the hall, undoubtedly mustered to capture the Queen’s murderer.
Eventually, they emerged from the palace and plunged into the Unseelie forest. The thick brambles and thorns forced them to slow down.
Hunter followed without protest for the better part of an hour, thorns shredding his bare feet. They had to be nearing the Seelie border by now, and still Bane showed no sign of letting up. Hunter came to an abrupt halt. Bane continued on for a couple of steps before he realized Hunter had failed to follow.