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“Care to make a wager, cousin?” Kes asked as he returned with their next round of drinks, pulling Ciaran from his thoughts.
“Careful, consider who you are wagering against,” Ciaran said with a cruel smirk and more venom than was likely necessary, but he found himself in such a foul mood he couldn’t help it.
Kes just laughed at him in the carefree way he seemed to go about everything. “Cousin, I would never forget who I’m dealing with – you make that impossible. I was simply suggesting a little fun. You do remember fun, don’t you?” He smirked at Ciaran, who glowered at Kes. “Whoever returns with the most fascinating prey wins!”
Ciaran considered his cousin’s wager.
Kes was possibly the most dramatic and theatrical member of the Night Court. It made him all the more ridiculous for he was also one of the most terrifying fae in appearances. His bird-like features were unsettling enough with his inky black feathered wings, legs that ended in taloned bird like feet along with retractable talons in his fingers. He also boasted feathers for hair and not just on his head, his brows were downy with the tiniest of feathers along with his arms and legs. If all that did not terrify enough, his teeth were sharp points, his eyes were bright red orbs set against his burnished skin, and he was equally as deadly with a sword as Ciaran.
“Sounds like a fun wager indeed, what does the winner get?” Ciaran asked Kes, hoping for something wickedly delightful.
“Why bragging rights of course! For there is nothing you loathe more than losing and nothing you love more than winning.”
Ciaran released a booming laugh. Kes was entirely correct. He was always a sore loser, even if it only happened very rarely. He could always count on Kes to lighten his mood.
“Why cousin, I do believe you know me all too well. It’s a deal then.” He raised his drink to clink it with Kes’ solidifying their wager.
Lifting his drink to his lips Ciaran surveyed the inhabitants of the tavern; beings from all over the court had come to join in this year’s hunt. They were laughing and carrying on in the way only the Night Court was capable of – filled with debauchery. None seemed to notice how precariously out of balance their realm was becoming, and the only way this realm could continue to exist was by maintaining its natural balance.
The Day Court was continuing to permeate the Night Court’s lands. Ciaran even heard of them invading the Borderlands, creating conflict with the witches who tended to remain neutral unless the balance was disrupted. Territory had been lost, and Ciaran was positive the darkest of night was beginning to lighten where the Night Court met the Day Court within the Borderlands. If he did not find a way to claim his throne soon as a true King of the Night Court, there would undoubtedly be war between the two courts. He thought war may be the main goal of the Day Court. They were fools. Disrupting the balance would harm the Day Court as much as it harmed the Night Court. He could only hope the witches would side with him.
If Ciaran was unable to claim his throne before war broke out, he would not have access to his full power and the Night Court would be at its weakest. The Day Court King and Queen knew this, and Ciaran thought it was precisely the reason they continued to push their boundaries. If it came to war, Ciaran was not sure the Night Court could survive if the power continued to be skewed in favor of the Day Court. They were fucking idiots if you asked him. Nothing but power hungry idiots. He was surprised the land of their court hadn’t rejected them yet. Perhaps it had, and they were somehow generating more power to make it seem as if they still held the power of their land. Kes was watching him, and Ciaran’s eyes slid back to his cousin’s, feeling his scrutiny.
“I see the worry in your eyes, cousin,” Kes said in a near silent whisper so it was for Ciaran’s ears only. “Let us release the worries of this realm for one night and enjoy our hunt. The problems of tonight will still be there tomorrow.”
Ciaran glared at his cousin. What did he know of worries? He didn’t have the survival of the entire Night Court on his shoulders, never mind the ridiculous prophecy the Many Faced Goddess gave him, with a curse on top of it all. Kes was lucky he was second in line for the throne and would never know the weight of the crown as long as Ciaran lived.
There had been a time Kes tried to fight him for the throne, but once they realized they were of equal power and Ciaran had the birthright of the crown, Kes relented and even admitted he didn’t truly want it. Kes just wanted to see how their powers matched up. Apparently he had been furious at Ciaran for disappearing for hundreds of years. Though they had been close as younglings, Ciaran had his reasons.
“Oh do cheer up, cousin. Perhaps you will find a mortal to unleash your wrath upon this evening. What fun that would be!” Kes declared.
Ciaran knew Kes was speaking of the prophecy. The prospect of finding the one human to who could complete it filled him with a restless sort of energy that buzzed inside his chest. He was more than eager to break the curse and become the true King of the Night Court. Even though he had yet to claim the title, he was still the ruling monarch.
“Now that would bring a bit of warmth to my cold wicked heart!” Ciaran said sarcastically, he let his smile stretch his face in pure unadulterated vicious joy. It had been many years since he last caught a mortal out on such a night when the veil was thinnest and the fae could cross into the mortal realm. Humans seemed to have begun to forget about the things that go bump in the night. The assorted fae that surrounded Ciaran and Kes were more than willing to be the reminder to the humans.
Humans used to be in steady supply for his realm’s amusement. Stupid mortals thinking the fae could gift them immortality, riches, or any of their other ridiculous desires. The only thing any of them, including the Day Court, have ever been interested in was their own schemes and desires. The Night Court makes no effort in hiding their nature to any being, while the Day Court finds joy in tricking and weaving illusions to humiliate unsuspecting humans and the lesser fae of their own court. The smart humans always knew the Night Court was terrifying and lethal, but honest. Well, as honest as fae can be. The Day Court is just as lethal, but also manipulative and filled with liars parading around as do gooders. Maybe not exactly liars, for no fae could tell a true lie.
Over the past several decades the stream of humans had slowed to a trickle, and most recently to a near stop, making it that much harder for Ciaran to fulfill his prophetic task. A human of all things would help him save his kingdom? What a complete mockery it would make of Ciaran. How could a weak human help him take his throne? They spent their entire existence in the Night Court sputtering like fools and pissing their pants in fear. Ciaran couldn’t help the scoff he released.
“You’re thinking is so loud, cousin. I would imagine the entire tavern can hear your thoughts. Come, let us finish our drinks and get ready for our hunt. Remember, this is meant to be a night of fun and debauchery. For one night let yourself embrace your nature free from the shackles of your station.” Kes drained his drink and then raised his brow to Ciaran.
He knew his cousin was right and it had been a long time since he had a human to wet his knives. He did truly enjoy the way their blood ran vibrantly red, drying into an exquisite darker red. Ciaran sighed and downed his drink. He slammed his cup hard onto the table in a way that gathered the attention of the fae in the tavern.
He loudly declared to all the beings surrounding him, “THE VEIL THINS – LET THE WICKED HUNT BEGIN!”
The entire tavern erupted in shouts of agreement and menacing joy as they drained their drinks and made their way to the point where the veil had already thinned.
Three
Etainstoodandpushedher hands into her lower back, stretching backwards to relieve the tightness that had started to turn into a sharp pain from bending down repeatedly. The harvest was proving to be bountiful. She missed her mother most on nights like this. Harvesting this quantity on her own was laborious and tedious without the second set of hands, nevermind the extra set of eyes needed to stay safe on a night as dangerous as this one.
So far, the night had passed uneventfully. She could have sworn she heard the sound of a far off other-worldly cheer, sending chills down her spine in fear. The horrible sound made her feel like prey being hunted and left her further on edge. She had nearly screamed earlier when a little rabbit hopped out while she had been digging up a particularly fussy evening primrose. Even after the rabbit hopped away, she was still left with an unsettled feeling. It was as if something was coming for her. She had felt eyes watching her all night.
A loud snap of a twig, or perhaps a branch, had Etain’s spine straightening as a tingling sensation began to pulse on the back of her neck. She was sure she was being watched now. She began to slowly reach for her bag still lying on the floor next to the remnants of the midnight mushrooms she had just harvested. Before she was able to grab it and attempt an escape, a hand clasped over her mouth and an arm locked around her waist pinning her arms to her side.
“What dark ritual are you attempting out here, evil woman?” said a voice far too loudly dripping in menace.
Only Seamus was fool enough to be that bold.
