The Seven Year King (The Faerie Ring #3), page 1
The SEVEN YEAR KING
Copyright 2013 © Karen Hamilton
All Rights Reserved.
Cover design by Kiki Hamilton
Map by Virginia Allyn
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.
Fair Wind Books
First Edition: May 2013
ISBN-10: 148124745X
ISBN: 978-1481247450
eBook ISBN: 978-1-63001-205-2
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012923779
CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
North Charleston, SC
For those of us who dare to dream remaining optimistic, against all odds moving forward, against all obstacles because we believe.
Always believe!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Author’s Note
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Also by Kiki Hamilton
YA Historical Fantasy
THE FAERIE RING
Book One of The Faerie Ring Series
THE TORN WING
Book Two of The Faerie Ring Series
YA Contemporary
THE LAST DANCE
Key to Pronunciation and Meaning of Irish Words
(With thanks to irishgaelictranslator.com and Irish Language Forum)
An fáinne sí (un FAWN-yeh shee)
The faerie ring
Na síochána, aontaímid
(nuh SHEE-uh-khaw-nuh, EEN-tee-mij)
For the sake of peace, we agree
Grá do dhuine básmhar
(Graw duh GGWIN-yeh BAWSS-wur)
Love for a mortal person
Óinseach (OWN-shukh)
Fool/idiot (for a female)
Nimh Álainn (niv AW-lin)
Beautiful Poison
Tánaiste (Tawn-ISH-tah)
Second in command
Cloch na Teamhrach (klukh nuh TYARR-uh)
Stone of Tara
Corn na bhFuíoll (KOR-un nuh WEE-ull)
Cup of Plenty
Samhain (Sow WEEN)
Festival marking the beginning of Winter, usually celebrated on October 31st
Dear Reader,
The story told within THE FAERIE RING series is a combination of fact and fiction. Known as ‘historical fantasy’, I like to think of the books as a ‘what if….’ kind of story.
Much of book one, THE FAERIE RING, is grounded in reality: Queen Victoria and Princes Leopold and Arthur were real historical figures. In fact, the story was set in the year 1871 because that was the year Prince Leopold was eighteen years old.
Many of the places referenced in the series: Charing Cross Station, King’s Cross Station, The World’s End Pub, St. James Park, the Birdkeeper’s Cottage, Buckingham Palace, Hyde Park, and the Great Ormond Street Hospital, are real and can be visited today—should you be lucky enough to find yourself in London.
Both book two, THE TORN WING, and book three, THE SEVEN YEAR KING, take you to other parts of England, including Glastonbury Tor and The Wychwood Forest, which are both real and have legends that associate them with faeries, and in the case of the Wychwood, tales of hobgoblins, witches and other creatures abound.
The British Isles are rich with faerie lore and there are many artifacts that exist today that are said to be associated with the fey. Introduced in THE TORN WING, the Hill of Tara exists in Ireland, the London Stone is displayed on Cannon Street in London and in THE SEVEN YEAR KING you’ll learn of the Luck of Edenhall – real and on display in the Victoria and Albert Museum in Kensington.
The Author’s Note at the end of the book contains additional information you might find interesting, regarding some of the people, places and things mentioned in THE SEVEN YEAR KING, though to avoid any spoilers, perhaps best read after you finish the book.
Now—on with Tiki’s story…
Chapter One
The Palace of Mirors, the Otherworld
Firelight flickered from wall-mounted torches in the small chamber off the Great Hall as the Winter King and his court of UnSeelie advisors—Bearach, Sullivan, Cruinn and Scáthach—gathered in a circle. Dark shadows filled the corners of the room, a reflection of the perpetual night outside the palace while the UnSeelie fey reigned in the Otherworld.
Within the center of the circle lay the prisoner—the Seelie spy. He’d been beaten and tied, his wrists and ankles roped together behind his back. The glamour of the black-haired and scarred Sean ó’Broin was gone and the young man’s natural features were revealed, but his eyes and cheekbones were so swollen and bruised that his face was almost unrecognizable. Dried blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth and dirt caked his hair, making the strands appear to be dark brown, rather than his natural blond color.
“You told her we had him?” Donegal’s voice was low.
Bearach nodded his great head, the copper locks shifting with the movement. “The cry of the Tara Stone still echoed in the room. The new queen seemed most distressed at my news.” One side of his mouth curled up with derision. “She wanted to trade.”
Muffled snorts of laughter could be heard among the others.
“And Larkin?”
“Arrogant as always. Denied knowing him.” Bearach’s voice tightened. “Asked if he was an UnSeelie who wanted to defect.” Behind him, as if sensing his animosity, one of his black hellhounds let out a low rumbling growl.
Donegal straightened. “I would expect nothing less from her.” He nudged the crumpled body on the floor with his boot, eliciting a low groan. “Yet, I have no doubt that she is the one who sent him here to his death—not this newfound queen.” He sneered the word. “We shall mark him as our Seven Year King and sacrifice him on Samhain as payment of the tithe due the Seelie Court—the very throne to which he vows his allegiance.”
Bearach spoke again, his beady eyes glowing with anticipation. “Larkin may think she’s clever, but she doesn’t realize she has sent us the very bait we need to lure this new Seelie queen to her own death.”
Donegal let out a low demonic laugh. “Or perhaps, that was precisely Larkin’s plan.”
Chapter Two
London, England
May 1st, 1872
Dusk settled over London like a sooty overcoat as a carriage left Westminster Abbey and made its way toward the wealthy district of Mayfair. The cry of TARR-UH! still echoed in Tiki’s ears with the rhythm of the horse’s hooves against the cobblestones. She clutched Rieker’s hand, grateful for the sense of security his touch always provided.
The teeming streets of the City, crowded with all states of humanity, gave way to genteel landscape as the pair of black, matched horses snorted to a stop inside the coach house of Number Six Grosvenor Square.
“All right?” Rieker asked softly as he leaned close. The shadows in the carriage emphasized the aristocratic features of his face: cliff-like cheekbones and dark, sultry eyes which too often in the past had been shadowed with secrets.
Tiki gave a shaky nod. “Shocked, still, I think.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Indeed. It has been a day of discovery.”
Tiki forced a smile, but her lips wavered. “Almost too much to take in at once.” She gripped his fingers tighter. “I’m so worried about Dain—”
The muscles in Rieker’s jaw tightened as he ran the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “I know. We’ve got to—”
The door to the carriage swung open on
Rieker let out a low sigh of frustration before he answered. “No need, Geoffrey. I’ll assist Miss Tara. Thank you.” In a low voice he said to Tiki, “Let’s go directly to my study. We’ve much to talk about yet.” In a graceful movement he stepped from the carriage. His frame held the height and strength of his eighteen years, emphasized by the contrast to the wiry build of the small, middle-aged man next to him.
Tiki clutched the fabric of her crimson gown to step down, happy to hold on to something real in a world that was shifting and changing like a restless sea. There were still moments when she had to remind herself that the young man before her, Sir William Richmond, a noble who had grown up with Princes Leopold and Arthur of the royal family, was also Rieker, the infamous pickpocket she’d met scavenging on the streets of London. He was like a chameleon, changing his skin to fit his environment.
As they walked into the house, the patter of bare feet echoed down the hallway in their direction.
“Tiki!” Clara’s high voice was tinged with excitement as the four year-old raced toward them. “Where’ve you been? You left without tellin’ us…”
“And you missed supper!” Ten year-old Toots interrupted. He hurried behind Clara, his red hair bright even in the shadows of the hallway. Perhaps it was the constant struggle to fill his belly after his mother had kicked him out of the house at age nine because she’d had too many other children to feed, or maybe it was the endless pangs of hunger that had wracked his young body for so long, but Toots never missed a meal if he could help it.
Clara threw her arms around Tiki’s waist, hugging her tight. “Don’t go away again,” she said, her voice muffled against Tiki’s skirt. “Fiona needs you and I want you to read that book Ol’ Potts gave me—the one about the lep’reecons.”
Tiki hoisted Clara up and propped the little girl on one slim hip. “I’m sorry. I won’t leave again, it’s just that—” she hesitated.
“We were called to Buckingham Palace on short notice,” Rieker finished for her. “But we’re home safely now. Not to worry.” He started down the hall in the direction of his study, beckoning Tiki with the tilt of his head.
“What were you doing at Buckingham?” Toots asked, his green eyes bright with curiosity.
“Did you see the Queen?” Clara chimed in, her small hand smoothing a lock of Tiki’s long, dark hair, a stark contrast to the little girl’s own blond curls. “Fiona told me Queen Vic has a doggie just like my Doggie an’…”
“How is Fiona?” Tiki asked, her forehead creasing with concern.
“She’s in ‘er room.” Clara’s smile faded as her voice dropped to a whisper. “I think she’s still cryin’.”
Tiki sighed. Fiona had developed more than a friendship with Johnny O’Keefe, a charming pickpocket they’d met at Charing Cross a few months ago. In an unexpected twist of events, Johnny had come to live with them at Grosvenor Square, but had recently gone missing when he, Fiona and the others had journeyed to Hyde Park in an unsuccessful attempt to contact Larkin.
Tiki tweaked the tip of Clara’s petite nose. “Well, I’ve got some good news for Fi.”
“You do?” The little girl’s blue eyes lit up. “Did you find Johnny?”
“Sir—” The butler appeared from the foyer. Tall and robust, he was immaculately groomed as always, in black trousers with a white shirt and grey vest, a black cravat neatly tied beneath his chin. His moustache was greased to fine points beneath a hearty nose.
Rieker turned. “Yes, Charles?”
“You’ve a caller. A young lady. Wouldn’t give her last name. Says she must see you—” his gaze moved to Tiki and his thick eyebrows rose, shifting his usually imperturbable expression— “and Miss Tara immediately. Shall I show her in?”
Rieker frowned. “Did she give you a first name, at the least?”
“Yes. Said it was Larkin—like the bird.”
“Larkin?” Toots squeaked and scooted closer to Tiki. Last December, Larkin had stolen a deathly-ill Clara, intending to trade the child in exchange for the Queen’s ring. Even more recently, the mercurial faerie had arranged for Toots to be taken to the Otherworld as a means to convince Tiki to do her bidding. Though Toots had been returned unharmed, his travels had left a significant impression and he now had a healthy fear of Larkin and her manipulations.
Behind the butler, a young woman swept into the hallway without waiting to be escorted.
“Ah, William—there you are.”
Long, blond hair cascaded over Larkin’s shoulders to frame an exquisite face. She was dressed in a fashionable gown, the color of ripe plums, and held a small matching purse. Her gaze paused for a long moment on Clara, held in Tiki’s arms, before she spoke to the butler in a haughty tone.
“Thank you—” her delicate nose crinkled— “Charles, is it?” She flicked her wrist as she sauntered past, as if dismissing the man. “We’ll carry on from here.” She came to a stop in front of Rieker. “William, I have an urgent matter to discuss with you and Tara. Let’s use the study.”
Tiki’s lips twitched as the butler’s jaw sagged at the impudence of their visitor.
Clara tightened her grip around Tiki’s neck and leaned close, her breath warming the skin of Tiki’s ear. “You’re not going to leave again, are you, Teek?” There was a hint of desperation in the little girl’s voice.
Rieker didn’t seem surprised by Larkin’s arrival or her arrogance. He lifted an arm toward the other end of the hallway, and raised his eyebrows at their visitor. “You know the way.”
Tiki’s heart quickened. Though her relationship with the faerie had been fraught with distrust and deceit, for once in her life she was glad to see Larkin. Recent events had raised many questions and the faerie was her best hope of getting answers.
“Don’t you worry,” Tiki said softly in Clara’s ear. “I’ll be here.” She let the child slide down to the floor. “Why don’t you and Toots go play upstairs while Rieker and I talk to Larkin? I’ll be up shortly.”
Clara clung to Tiki’s skirts as she stared up with large blue eyes. “You promise?”
Tiki cupped the child’s face and kissed her forehead as she breathed in the fresh scent of Clara’s skin. “I promise.”
“Yes, do send the children along.” Tiki started at Larkin’s proximity. She hadn’t heard the faerie approach. “We want to keep them safe, don’t we, Tara?” The beautiful young woman leaned down and smiled. “Though it’s nice to see you again, Clara.”
The little girl leaned against Tiki’s legs and stared at Larkin with no fear in her face. “Yes’m. Where’s Dain? I haven’t seen ‘im about lately.”
Rieker jerked around. “What do you know of Dain?”
Tiki frowned at Rieker as she placed her hands on Clara’s shoulders. “Shush, never mind about Dain right now.” She turned the little girl to face down the hallway and gave her a gentle shove. “Run along with Toots.”
Against her will, Tiki pictured Dain’s face. He was as handsome as Larkin was lovely—with a similar wild streak. Tiki suspected that like Larkin, Dain gave little consideration to rules before he broke them. In fact, not really so unlike Rieker.
Though often mocking and arrogant, Dain could also be charming. But there was something else about the young man—something Tiki couldn’t quite put her finger on—that pulled at her heart when she was around him. Perhaps it was the air of loneliness that permeated his smile at times or the longing that Tiki sensed just below the surface. She imagined the look on his face as he’d traced his fingers so gently over the palm of her hand and whispered ‘Have you kept my secret? Even now, her heart wrenched at the memory.
“C’mon, Clara.” Toots grabbed Clara’s small hand in his own. He cast a wary glance at Larkin, as if he expected the faerie to spring at him. “Bet you can’t beat me upstairs.”
“Yes I can!” Clara yanked her hand free to sprint for the stairs. “I’m going to tell Fi about Johnny.” Toots followed and they both dashed around the corner, their footfalls echoing on the wooden stairs. A pang of love filled Tiki’s chest as their giggles and shouts receded into the upper depths of the townhome. As she followed Larkin and Rieker into his study she vowed silently that she would never be separated from them.
