The Solstice Duology: The Solstice Gift and Summer's Child, page 1
The Solstice Duology
THE SOLSTICE GIFT
Cari Z
Warning: this book contains adult language and themes, including graphic descriptions of violence. It is intended for mature readers only, of legal age to possess such material in their area.
This book is a work of fiction. All characters, companies, events, and locations are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or events is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author and publisher.
The Solstice Gift
Copyright 2021 by Cari Z., first edition 2012 with Total E-Bound Publishing
Cover Art by Natasha Snow
Editing by Elizabeth Silver
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
About This Book
How long can a human survive in the treacherous court of the winter fae, when even his allies are fighting for their lives?
Dis is a changeling, a human stolen away from his own world as a child by the vicious winter fae. He's survived to adulthood through a combination of luck and careful oversight by his only ally, a fairy lord named Marten, but his success might have finally reached its end.
It's the winter solstice, and Oberon's court is preparing for a hunt with a history of bloodshed, one that requires Dis to be an unwilling participant. Even if Dis lives through that, he's being watched by the king of the fae himself, and no one can save him if Oberon has marked him for sacrifice.
Chapter One
The changeling lay still and silent, his breath quiet, his heartbeat sluggish, and wordlessly prayed for deliverance.
Sable, the powerful Unseelie fae and a noble of the Winter Court, slept like the dead tonight, never stirring beneath her gossamer comforts. She was so deep into her cups that the changeling chained to the floor couldn’t even see the rise and fall of her chest. He pressed his dry tongue fruitlessly to chapped lips, unable to soothe them but instinctively trying regardless. Despite the dryness of his mouth, his exhales misted with every breath, tiny flecks of moisture he couldn’t spare transforming to ice. He knelt, knees and wrists bound together to keep him prostrate, and he listened, straining for the slightest sound of someone approaching him.
The stone floor was a few degrees colder than the air in Sable’s bedchamber, enough to make the changeling wince at first, but soon his knees and forearms grew numb and gave him a few less body parts to shiver over. He wished his back would go numb as well, but rolling to his side while bound in this position was impossible. Each night he knelt on this same floor, shackled to the foot of the bed, stretched in a position of supplication that exposed his body him to the chill winter air. It was always winter here, never warm, and he longed for the freedom—not much, just enough—to curl into a ball and seek his own scant heat, instead of trembling all night long, awake and miserable and left to catch whatever naps he could in the kennel throughout the day.
There were varying degrees of discomfort in this place. Usually he’d be bound like this as soon as his mistress decided to sleep, but sometimes he was free for longer if Sable wished him to clean, and even though the water chafed his hands red, at least it meant he was moving. Occasionally Sable would sleep in another fae’s bed, leaving her changeling’s tender care to her brother, which was always a good thing. Marten was kinder than his sister could dream of, and he never said the changeling’s name like it was a curse.
Dis had been stolen during a raid to the human realm a score of years ago, as measured by the fae. He was one of three children brought back, and he was the only one to survive to adulthood. When it became clear that he was likely to live, Sable had taken away his human name and given him a new one, Dis.
“Because you are the opposite of everything desirable,” she had murmured sweetly as she bound the name to him, tying it to his spirit as the fae did with their true names. “Disagreeable, dishonorable, disturbed. Utterly distasteful, yet I will bear the burden of your upkeep in spite of your many flaws.” Because whatever else he was, Dis was unique to the Winter Fae, the only human to survive and thrive among them, and his position as her personal slave elevated Sable’s status.
It was so cold…it seemed that Dis felt it more tonight, or perhaps it was just a side effect of his loneliness. Oberon’s court was frantic with activity in the week before the winter solstice, and Dis’s sole source of comfort had been too busy to come to him. That meant he’d spent the past three nights chained to Sable instead of cloistered with Marten, and it made Dis uncomfortable to realize just how much he had come to rely on the fae. He shouldn’t rely on anyone but himself, but Marten made it so easy…until he didn’t come.
As though to berate him for his lack of faith, Dis suddenly heard the soft pad of footsteps enter the room, not from the main door, but from the small one that joined the siblings’ chambers. Sable and Marten shared a suite of rooms in the guest wing of Oberon’s castle, a sign of their high status. Dis shuddered with relief as the familiar footsteps drew closer. Hands that were normally cool felt blisteringly warm against his shoulders as they crept towards the manacles, and the smooth silver circles opened quickly at Marten’s touch. He silently guided the chain out of the knot it made around Dis’s body, then pulled Dis back into his arms.
“Quietly,” Marten whispered as the resurging pain in his legs made Dis’s breath catch. He helped the changeling to his feet, then led him slowly into the next room. Dis cast one last look back at Sable, slightly fearful that she would wake, but there was no need. She never even stirred.
Marten shut the door behind them, then brought Dis to the edge of his bed and pressed him down onto the furs. “Sit.” He turned to get water and wine and Dis watched him go, devouring every movement.
Marten had the same proportions as most male fae, long and slender. His skin was a dusky bluish-white, and his hair was the same shade as Sable’s, black and shining like polished jet. His ears stood up like a fox; they were larger than his sister’s, and his features were slim and delicate, so unlike Dis’s own. Everything about him looked cold, except for his eyes. They glowed like two chips of amber, warm and welcoming.
He sat next to Dis and offered him a cup of water, which he drained quickly. The liquid soothed the soreness in his throat and the pain of his cracked lips, and Dis sighed with relief when he was done with it.
“Thank you,” he murmured, keeping his voice down. It was very unlikely that Sable would hear him even if he yelled right now, but Dis was always careful. He had been taught at an early age that the proper volume for a human slave in the court of the winter fae was silence, and as a result his voice sounded rough, disused. He thought it was ugly, nothing like the light, sonorous sounds of the fae, but the only ones who ever heard him were the hounds and Marten, and neither of them seemed to mind.
“Now this,” Marten said, taking the empty cup and passing him a full one that smelt sweet. “The wine will warm you.”
Dis sipped, knowing from experience to go easy with fairy wine. It felt thick and sparkling on his tongue, pure delight, and he closed his eyes for a moment before he swallowed. Warmth flowed quickly from his stomach out through his limbs, easing the aches in his joints, and he smiled. “Thank you.” He tried to pass the wine back and Marten quirked an eyebrow.
“That’s all?” he asked. “You usually take more.”
“I can’t afford to be slow tomorrow,” Dis explained. “I’m tasked to ready the hounds for the Solstice hunt. I have to be up early.” Earlier.
“Ah yes.” Marten took the glass and set it aside on a low table of dark wood. “Naturally. I’ve been so concerned with getting through the Erlking’s visit without bloodshed that I nearly forgot about the gift he brought for our lord.”
“How was the visit?” Dis asked, bold enough with Marten that he dared to voice a question of his own.
“No one died,” Marten said with a shrug. “The wildfae who ride with the Erlking are just that, wild, so it was inevitable that one of them would lash out. Oberon removed the offender’s arm and he recovered his respect soon enough.”
“What did they bring for the hunt?” Dis didn’t really care about fae fighting each other, but he was genuinely curious about the offering. The Erlking brought a different animal to the Winter Court every year for the Solstice hunt, and they were almost always impressive.
One year he had deposited a pride of lions in the ancient forest, and another year it had been a unicorn, fierce and vicious enough that it had speared three of the king’s courtiers and killed two hounds before Oberon himself dispatched it. Last year he had left several bull elephants, but they had gorged themselves on yew foliage and suffered from its toxins, and by the time the hunt had commenced they were no sport at all.
“A Calydonian boar,” Marten replied, drinking from the wineglass himself before putting it down. “This hunt should please our lord. These creatures are enormous—their tusks are a full fathom long. I think the Erlking is looking to make recompense for his gift last year, although of course he would never admit that.”
“Did you get to see it?”
“No, it was in the forest before the Erlking and his followers approached us, but I have seen them befo
“How long ago was that?” Dis asked.
Time passed differently in the fae realm. Once, when he had still been very young, he had begged with Marten to let him go back to his human family. The fae had knelt down, put his long-fingered hands gently on Dis’s shoulders and told him, with some sympathy in his voice, that his family had been dead for over a hundred years.
“You must forget them,” he had counselled. “Your life is here now.” Eventually the vague, childish memories of warm skin under coarse fabric and the scent of yeasty bread had paled to nothing, and Dis hardly ever thought of the ones he had been taken from anymore.
Marten drew his dark eyebrows as he tried to remember. “I was young then, barely old enough to be allowed on the hunt. Perhaps…two thousand years ago, in human terms. Or maybe closer to three.” He shrugged, as if the time had no meaning for him. Given how long the fae lived, it probably didn’t. “It was easier to enter the human’s world then. They hadn’t yet mastered the smelting of iron, so there was little to fear from them.”
Whereas now there was much to fear. The fae who currently ventured into the human realm did so with extreme caution. The Erlking could hunt in any era, and restricted most of his activity to earlier times, when humanity was less of a problem. Dis knew that one of the reasons he himself was still alive was because it served Oberon and Sable well to have him under their thrall, a living reminder that humanity was beneath the fae, even though the courtiers knew in their hearts that it was becoming less and less true. Dis might be a slave, but he was always observant.
“The boar will go to ground,” Marten continued. “The hounds will have to flush it out of the underbrush. We hunters will use pikes to take it down, but you must keep a good distance away from the main hunt. There is nothing you can do to hurt the creature, and it will be fast and savage. You would be killed.” He said it very seriously, capturing Dis’s gaze and holding them to make his point. “Do not let that happen.”
“I’ll be careful,” Dis assured him. He leaned into Marten’s hand when it cupped his cheek, a thumb sliding roughly along his jaw. His face was prickly with new growth, nothing the fae ever had to worry about, and Dis was ashamed of it even as he accepted the touch. He didn’t know why Marten cared for him, when he was so coarse by comparison, but the fae seemed to like it, to the extent that he had taken no other lovers after he and Dis had begun their clandestine relationship. Sable mocked him constantly, calling him a eunuch and a hermit, but Marten ignored her. He had become an expert at ignoring his sister over the millennia.
“Beautiful,” Marten murmured, leaning in and running his soft, thin lips over Dis’s cheekand the end of his nose. Dis didn’t shy away from the lie, but he moved eagerly into the coming kiss, happiest when Marten couldn’t speak such things. Dis knew what he was—Sable told him every day—and despite what his lover said he couldn’t forget that every other Unseelie agreed with her. Marten was an anomaly, and his peculiar fondness was the only reason that Dis had survived for so long.
Dis let Marten push him back into the softness of the bed, easily shifting him up until his whole body was supported. Dis was nude, as he always was when Sable tied him down, but instead of feeling shame he was comforted by the sensation of Marten’s body against his, the fae’s elaborate clothes falling away as Marten sought to bring them together. Dis was warm enough that Marten’s body felt familiarly cool now, and like every time, it made him even hotter. Long and lean, slender and smooth… Dis arched up against his lover’s weight, eliciting a quiet laugh.
“Eager?”
“I’m always eager for you,” Dis teased, nuzzling into the hollow between Marten’s shoulder and collarbone. “I missed you,” he confessed, and was surprised when Marten stiffened a little.
“I’m sorry,” Marten said, and he sounded so genuine that it was almost disturbing. Unseelie did not apologize, especially not to a changeling. No matter how fond of him they might be. “I wouldn’t have left you alone with her for so long if there had been any other way.”
“I…” What did he say to something like that? “I know,” he settled on, feeling as if his words were entirely inadequate. “I know that. I wasn’t blaming you.”
Marten’s smile was twisted and strange. “Perhaps you should have been.” Before any more words could be said he lowered his mouth to Dis’s and kissed him savagely, possessively. Sharp teeth cut into tender skin but Dis didn’t care, he couldn’t even feel the pain when confronted with so much pleasure.
Kissing…that was another thing that almost never happened. It was personal, intimate, and he was seeing spots by the time their mouths broke away and Marten moved down his body, nipping and scratching him, leaving blossoming fire in his wake wherever he touched. So strange, when the fae was so cold, that he made Dis burn.
When he got to Dis’s erection there was no hesitation, no slow application of lips and tongue—Marten swallowed his cock and Dis cried out. A pinch against his hip warned him, reminded him that Sable was just one room away, and Dis bit down on his abused lower lip and tried not to make a sound as his lover devoured him. Marten didn’t touch him like this often, use his mouth on him like this, and he was slick and cool and sucked so perfectly. He rolled and tugged on Dis’s balls, keeping them from drawing too tight too fast and finishing it, but even with the help he was going to blow soon. Dis rocked his hips up and his eyes rolled back in his head as Marten took him deeper, to the back of his mouth until he was sliding down that perfect throat. Dis let out a strangled moan and a moment later Marten let go of his balls and pressed his fingers, hard, against Dis’s perineum, stroking forward the way he knew Dis liked.
He came down his master’s throat, straining and sweating and being so disgustingly human that he would have been embarrassed under any other circumstances, but this was different. Marten wanted him like this, wanted him human, wanted him giving. Dis wanted to give, and he did. He came until the stars were back in his eyes, until he was limp against the furs and Marten had released him, had moved back up to his face and kissed the blood away from his lips.
“Careful,” he murmured. “Don’t damage yourself, Dis. I prefer you whole.”
“I couldn’t help it,” Dis muttered, striving to open his eyes. There was the warm amber gaze and smiling, foxy face. “Thank you.”
“I love to touch you, you know that,” Marten said simply. He closed his eyes and his grin broadened when Dis ran his hand down his lover’s body and took a hold of his cock. Dis fought off his lassitude and rolled them over, smiling when Marten went easily, easier than he usually did. The fae was generally the one in control, as was his right, but sometimes he let Dis lead, and those were special occasions.
Dis didn’t have the energy for anything elaborate, but at the very least he could return the favor. He slid down the smooth skin until he got to Marten’s cock, then gently scraped his stubble against the shaft. Marten usually liked being reminded of what he was sleeping with, and tonight was no exception. His thighs quivered and fell further apart, and Dis settled between them and proceeded to drive his lover crazy with his human warmth, his human hair and, eventually, his hot human mouth.
Marten’s flesh was always cool, even when he was erect and leaking, but Dis knew he loved the heat. He wrapped his arms around the Unseelie’s hips to hold him still and to pass more of his heat on, then licked a glistening line from the base of the shaft up to the head, which was already shining with Marten’s seed. Sticky pearls formed and were licked away just as fast, and the taste was better than the fairy wine he had drunk earlier. He licked and licked, occasionally closing his lips over the head but mostly worshipping with his tongue.
Gradually Marten’s legs tightened against Dis’s shoulders and ribs, holding him rigidly, and Dis knew Marten was getting close. Dis wasn’t as good at swallowing his lover but he did his best, sliding his eager mouth down Marten’s cock and caressing it, sucking as hard as he could manage. A moment later his efforts were rewarded with a flood of sweet, salty liquid. It slid down his throat almost before he could taste it, and Dis made sure to capture the last few drops on the very front of his tongue before pulling back.
