"The poison has stopped spreading for now."

"We have to cut off the contaminated area, otherwise-"

"Do it. Now."

Hands holding me down. Then pain. Excruciating pain. And I was back again in that underground hot cell with sharp teeth tearing through my flesh.

Blissful oblivion took me under after a moment.



I opened my eyes to a painting of half clad men and women, harps, cherubs and angels. The ceiling was high and domed, vivaciously colorful and heavily gilded, it was visible to my blurry vision.

"Is he still out there?"

"Yes, but he won't be held back much longer." Amanda's voice, I groggily realized.

The pain in my side was a dull throb. My throat was parched and my body felt as if it had been run over by a train.

"He will wait," Arthur's dark, deep voice replied, "until she wakes up."

I assumed I was the "she" they were talking about. Memories came crashing down. Of elliptical stairs, robed men, injured humans and birds and blood.

I shifted my head on the soft pillow. The room I was in was large and impersonal, a guest room, lit only by the fireplace's flames and the soft gray light of predawn coming through the window.

Arthur and Amanda sat on blue gilded armchairs next to my bed. Arthur's dark gaze was already on me.

Amanda looked from Arthur to me. Her eyes brightened as she jumped to her feet, "oh, dear! you're up!" she hovered over me, her hands not knowing quite what to do, "how do you feel? Does your side still hurt?"

"Fine," I croaked out, then cleared my throat, "I'm fine. What happened? Where are we?"

"Still in Venus' place." Amanda stabbed a straw in the water tumbler she picked up from the bedside table. "Here, drink."

The water soothed my throat. "Who's out there?" I asked, though I had a very good inclination.

"Your father." Arthur replied darkly. Amanda pursed her lips and shot Arthur a long look. He finally broke our eye contact to shake his head at her. "Give us a moment."

After pressing her soft hand to my forehead for a second, Amanda left the room. The door closed with a quiet snick.

Our staring contest resumed in silence once more. Ridiculous as it seemed under the circumstances, I remembered our last interaction before I ventured into the woods and he went back to the party with a flash of anger. It was not the time or the place, but I simply couldn't help myself. And that made me even angrier.

"How in the world," he finally broke the silence, his voice vibrating with his own anger, "do you always get yourself in these situations? Why couldn't you just stay put and wait for help to arrive?"

Wow. I'd never seen him so worked up before.

"There wasn't enough time," I replied, "did the humans survive? The birds?"

"Why didn't you use the damn gun, at least?"

I blinked. It took me a moment to realize what he was talking about. I had, to my embarrassment, completely forgotten about the gun. "I forgot."

He blinked, "you forgot?" he asked slowly.

Feeling heat rise to my cheeks, I pursed my lips. How in the world had I forgotten about that stupid gun? In my defense, I was not used to having guns on me, to fighting with them. Still. It was a horrible mistake that could've cost me so much. A beginner's mistake. Uncle Robert would have made me run until I fainted as punishement.

But it had happened. No point in moaning about it. I would learn from it and move on.

Arthur rose to his feet, walked to the fireplace and stood with his back to me. One hand braced on the mantel, the other tucked into the pocket of his pants.

He had shed the jacket and the vest, was dressed only in the white shirt that molded to his shoulders and arms, tucked into black dress pants that molded-

I swung my gaze upward. This was not the time to be ogling him. His white shirt, I realized, was streaked with crimson.

"The humans are alive. Barely," he said, "the birds fared better."

Anger and embarrassment forgotten, my heart hurt. For the humans who had to go through that horrible experience through no fault of their own, and for the beautiful birds.

The birds. Now that I thought about them, something was beginning to become very clear.

"Those birds...they're not normal birds, are they?"

"Phoenix birds," Arthur said, surprising me, "very young ones, too."

"Oh." I sat up, carefully. My side was so sore, but nothing I couldn't handle. "What happened to me?"

"Poison," he replied, "the magic of the witch who attacked you is poisonous. The healer could only stop it from spreading. We had to excise the contaminated area. You have a knack for finding yourself in situations where your flesh is severed from your body."

I ignored his jab. "Were they trying to open a gate?"

"Yes," Arthur said, his back still to me, "a pathetic attempt. Even if they had succeeded, it would've stayed open for a very brief window of time before closing. We got there in time."

But even a brief opening, we both knew, could have catastrophic consequences. Who knew what kind of creatures would have slipped in?

I took a deep breath, "is he out there?"

Arthur turned around. Standing tall and proud. The flames at his back gave him a fiery halo, enhancing the sense of danger he always exuded. Even more so at this moment.

"He is. I figured you would want to meet him on your own terms, when you are not unconscious."

He was right. Irritatingly. I would not want to meet him when I was vulnerable, no matter that he was actually my father.

"Yes, you were right," I cleared my throat, "thank you."

"You should prepare yourself," he said, "not just to meet him, but to meet everyone else. I would wager the entire world is now aware of the fact you are his daughter. He made quite a scene when we were still underground."

"Why? What happened?"

"Contrary to her appearance, Amanda can be quite blood thirsty. She is fiercely protective," he explained, "she made it clear he would go nowhere near you until you or I allow it."

"You?" I arched a brow, my temper rising once again. Arthur looked at me in silence for a long minute, until I thought he would not speak again.

"You know the story of my father, I assume?"

I blinked. It was so like him to suddenly change the subject. I played along.

"Yes, everyone knows it."

"Then you know that insanity and blood lust run in my blood. Yet, neither me nor any of my siblings have ever displayed signs of it."

He walked to stand by the window, his back to me again, tense. He looked so alone. I had the sudden realization that he must have been alone for years, decades, centuries even. Because even though he had his seconds, even though he surrounded himself with people on his island, Arthur always seemed apart, for some reason. It must be because, other than his siblings who all lived far away, no one would be able to comprehend the life of a man who has lived thousands of years, no one could truly see the world through his eyes. No one could truly understand him.

In a way, we were oddly alike. Because no one would ever understand my life; an immortal raised in seclusion for half her life, and then lived as a human for the other half.

I fought the urge to go stand by his side.

"For the longest time, we've thought that the five of us could not conceive. We have been alive for so long, we have indulged in several relations over the ages. But never have we worried- or hoped- that we would have an offspring," he paused, "It changed, three hundred years ago."

I sucked in a sharp breath. I had been right, then.

"Natalia was the mother of my first and only child. I had not been expecting much beyond casual enjoyment on both our parts from our brief relationship. But the impossible happened. She was with child."

The simple words were spoken with such cold precision that it would seem to anyone else he hadn't cared much for a child. But I had gotten to know Arthur more over the brief months we've spent together. And my magic, for whatever impossible reason, was attuned to him on a visceral level.

He was in pain, in so much pain. A lump formed in my throat.

"A boy. He lived ten years before the insanity took hold of him." Arthur said, and stopped speaking for several minutes. This time, I did not fight my instincts when the pull towards him intensified. Despite the pain in my side when my feet touched the floor, I stood up and walked slowly until I stood slightly behind him, his body a furnace of heat seeping through the sweatshirt and pants I wore.

"A blood crazed child is worse than an adult. He was-" a deep breath, "He had to be put to eternal sleep."

A tear slipped down my cheek. And because I knew Arthur, I knew that he would not let anyone else take care of something he viewed as his own responsibility, I knew the words he would speak before he did.

"I killed my own child."

I flinched. And then felt so selfish and idiotic for being mad at him earlier- or was it yesterday?- when he didn't want to share this with me.

I swallowed thickly and put my hand on his back, feeling his muscles tense further at the contact. There were no words, nothing appropriate with which I could express what I felt for him at the moment. To have a child of his own after believing he never would have the chance at parenthood. To witness that same, prized child go insane for blood. To take his own child's life. The very thought shredded my heart with sharp claws.

No one should have to go through that. No one should have to live with that for an eternity.

And to have the child's mother blame him for it, as Natalia clearly did if our earlier encounter was anything to go by, was inconceivable.

"Do you feel sorry for me, Elle?" he asked, his voice flat.

"Yes." There was no point in denying it, I did feel sorry for him, among other things. It was impossible not to.

I almost jumped out of my skin when Arthur laughed, the sound a dull echo of his rare heartfelt, amused laughter. But one that held a thread of genuine warmth.

An instant later, he'd turned around and was crushing me to him, careful of my side. He was all hard muscles and warmth and wilderness. He smelled faintly of blood, earth and fire. My magic fluttered in my chest, reaching out for something unfamiliar within me, something that felt like Arthur.

"Ah, Elle," his chin rested on my head while I stood frozen in the cocoon of his arms, "you do make it better."

"Make what better?" I asked, grateful my mind hadn't frozen as my body had.

But he didn't reply. His head dipped lower along the side of my head until his lips brushed my ear. I jumped out of the way, aware he let me do it. I glared at him, putting my hand over my ear.

"I thought you felt sorry for me," he said, eyes filled with mirth, "I could use some comforting."

"Not that sorry," I pushed my hair out of my scowling face. He grinned. And I watched as his whole demeanor transformed. He was once again the dangerous immortal who was playful and warm to his people, deadly and cold to outsiders. His pain buried deep inside for no one to see.

Except that I was now aware of it. I couldn't go back to not knowing. And I understood the man that was Arthur a little bit more.

I wanted to know more about his son, what had happened exactly. But now was not the time. Already, he had shared more than what I would've expected. It was enough for now.

He stepped closer to me, "now, let's discuss something you've been blatantly ignoring for quite some time now."

I did not like the wolfish look in his eyes. Inadvertently, I took a step back as he took one forward, then stopped myself and stood my ground.

"What have I been ignoring?" I asked.

"Me. And you. Us." he stopped mere inches from me and lowered his head. My finger on his forehead stalled his progress. I had to look up at him.

"No."

But of course he didn't listen, arrogant man that he was. "I want you."

"No."

"And you seem to have the wrong impression that all I want of you is a physical engagement."

I opened my mouth, closed it, then, "it's not?"

He straightened up and clasped his hands behind his back. "If you've been paying attention, you would've noticed that I am courting you."

He declared it like it was supposed to mean something. It didn't, at least to me. When I continued to stare blankly at him, he sighed.

"Please tell me you know how the mating bond is established for immortals."

"Surprisingly, uncle Robert did not talk much about mating and what it entails with me when I was a kid," I crossed my arms.

"No wonder." Arthur rubbed his hand over his face for a moment, "alright, then. Let's take this one step at a time. Do you want to meet your father?"

"Yes." It wasn't like I had a choice.

"His consort is with him."

"Oh." I didn't know how I felt about that, more importantly though... "and his son?"

"No, he did not come. Are you ready to go then? Or would you like to rest some more?"

"No, I'm ready." I rolled back my shoulders, winced when my side stung.

"It will be painful for a while."

"Poisonous magic? I've never heard of it." I lifted my top to check my side. My entire waist was bandaged. And I was not wearing a damn bra, I realized. I could feel heat creeping to my cheeks.

"Very rare, but it does exist." Arthur moved to pick up a duffel bag from the ground beside the bed. He took a black t-shirt and pants out then handed the bag to me. "Amanda put a change of clothes here for you. You can change in the bathroom."

I took the bag and went through the door in the corner of the room, hearing the rustle of clothes as I closed the door behind me.

The beauty of the checkered marble flooring, the gilded walls and the giant bathtub was lost on me. I changed into comfortable undergarments, a black long sleeved shirt and cargo pants. My mind was a jumbled mess with everything going on.

Much to my delight, the bottom of the bag was lined with my sheaths and a leather roll with all my blades. I put them all on with a smile on my face and pulled my hair back in a sleek ponytail. I felt more like myself now.

When I walked out, Arthur had changed to a black t-shirt and jeans. He pointed to my combat boots next to the bed.

"Where's my sword?" I asked as I pulled on my shoes, wincing whenever I pulled on my side the wrong way.

"Charles is keeping hold of it," he replied, running his eyes over me, "you can lose the accent, now."

He was referring to my North American accent.

I had had to lose my irish accent when I went to live with humans at sixteen. It had been difficult, very difficult, but I had done it with the conviction that I would never speak in its lilting words again. Not that my irish accent was strong to begin with; since uncle Robert had tried his best to not sound very Irish when he spoke to me.

Now, there was no need to keep pretending. But it was easier said than done. I was probably clinging to it as the last thread that connected me to the safe life of a headhunter, when my identity was still a secret, before I was thrown into this world of immortals.

I frowned, "It'll take time."

"Mhm," he nodded, "let us go then. There's much we need to discuss after we get the meeting with your father done with."

"Are they all dead? Those who were trying to open the portal?"

"Of course not. Those who lived are being held in a safe place until we can extract all the information they know, then we'll deal with them," he narrowed his eyes at me, "how did you know? I assume you did not simply find yourself underground by accident."

I grimaced, "you won't believe me."

He arched an eyebrow and waited. I sighed, "an owl. A white owl showed me the way."

His brows climbed further but he nodded. I continued.

"There were two men getting out of the underground passage. I was up in a tree, so they didn't see me. Which reminds me, they probably got away, didn't they?"

"We'll see. Later," he moved to the door, paused with his hand on the doorknob and looked over his shoulder at me for a long moment, "keep it a secret, for now. The owl, I mean."

"Why?"

"Just trust me on it," he said, "alright?"

I pursed my lips, but nodded. He would tell me later. "Alright."

Then he opened the door. I fell into step beside him. He led the way down a hallway as ostentatious as the rest of the palace. Truly, I had no idea how anyone could actually live here. It was beautiful, as a museum, but not as a home.

But then again, I grew up in a tiny cabin in the middle of nowehre, so what do I know?

We passed by a few immortals, mostly vampires, who tried not to stare but failed horribly. I could only imagine the gossip. The long lost child of the previous fae king. The eldest daughter whose existence was unknown. The gossip will flourish, indeed.

"Do you think I should tell him?" I asked in a whisper, "that my mother had asked uncle Robert to take me away?" it would give away the fact that my mother's murderers were part of the royal court, or at least very close to it.

"There's no point in hiding it any longer," Arthur said, "it would certainly speed things up. Tiptoeing around the issue will get us nowhere. I would like to witness his reaction."

I took a deep breath and wished for my sword's comforting weight at my hip. Arthur's hand closed on mine for a moment and my heart skipped. "Stay close."

He let go right as we turned where the hallway ended. A short flight of stairs led down to a vast, circular room with a high ceiling, an enormous fireplace with crackling flames, gilded wall panels and two massive chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and brightly illuminating the space. A few ornate chairs were set all over the room, unoccupied, despite the fact that the place was not empty.

Charles leaned against the wall on the far end of the room, away from the only other two people.

There was a woman, a fae, standing beside the fireplace staring into the flames, her arms wrapped around her waist. Glossy, light auburn hair fell in soft waves down her back and shoulders, her trim, tall figure encased in a green sleeveless gown that grazed the floor, her skin translucently pale. She met my eyes with large blue ones on a delicate face.

Then there was the man wearing a hole through the carpet with his pacing. He immediately froze when Arthur and I came into sight.

Dressed in a sharp clack suit underneath a thick red cloak. A brooch of two simple golden wings clasped the edges of the cloak on his shoulder. The famous royal crest of the fae.

I did not meet his eyes. Arthur and I descended the steps. Eight steps, I counted in my head. The crackling of flames was the only sound.

Charles came to hand me my sword before moving back to his spot. I was grateful to him, more than he could ever know. Gripping the sword grounded me somehow. Along with the comfortingly large presence of Arthur beside me.

Finally, I took a fortifying breath and looked at the man who was supposedly my father.

My father.

It was odd. And kind of funny. I would've thought my emotions would be all over the place when this moment finally arrived. But all I felt was... nothing. It was like looking at a stranger. No, there was no "like" about it. I was looking at a stranger, even if he was my father. I did not really know him.

He took several steps forward until he was within arm's reach. A very long arm. His green eyes were intense. He opened his mouth, closed it.

"You...you look exactly like her," he said in a low murmur, as if speaking to himself. His eyes ran over every inch of my face.

My gaze snapped to his hand when it lifted. It clenched into a fist before dropping back to his side, his jaw hardened to a breaking point.

"You are my daughter," he said, his voice still pitched low, "It was Robert, wasn't it? He took you away."

I nodded, once. He sighed, "I should've known when he disappeared. Where is he?"

"Dead."

"Robert?" The female fae approached to stand next to Orion, her hand slipping into his. "He's gone?"

Her voice was slightly high and thin, not in an annoying way, it was... vulnerable.

"Why?" Orion, my father, shook his head, his voice trembling with emotion. "I don't understand. Why take you away. I was- I am - your father. He had no right."

The woman, who I assumed was my father's consort, put her other hand on his forearm and looked at him with large, worried blue eyes. He covered her hand with his for a brief moment.

"He kept his word to my mother." I said, and heard the doors behind us close, no doubt thanks to Arthur's telekinesis.

Orion reared his head back, shocked, "Your mo- why would she ask such a thing of him?"

It didn't take him long to figure out the answer. The only reason why my mother would have me taken away from my father was because I wasn't safe with him. She loved my father to the very last breath she took, uncle Robert had often told me. But she did not trust his surroundings. And my father was too loyal to doubt his own people.

"That cannot be right," he said after a moment, "no. Robert must have misunderstood. Or simply lied to you. It is impossible."

Ah. And this was the reason my mother did not trust my father with me. It was heartbreaking to see it in truth. And maddening.

"He had no reason to lie," I said, angry that he would doubt the man who had raised me with as much love and devotion his warrior heart could muster, "why would he burden himself with the fate of an infant that was not his?"

Orion closed his eyes for a long moment, "was he there when she died?"

"He arrived too late," I said, "she was dying when she gave birth to me after a long fight. All she told him was to ... trust no one here and to take me away. She made him give her his word before she was gone."

My mother had held me for a split of a second before passing away. Uncle Robert had always suspected that the reason I was smaller than other immortals was because my mother hadn't nursed me.

Growing older, I realized how difficult it must have been for him, a man, a soldier, who had never had a child of his own, to care for an infant just born. But he'd done the best he could and more.

My father now shook his head. He lifted his hand again. This time he raised it to my face, and I froze as he ran his palm on my hair once, twice, then dropped it again. His green eyes shone with emotions too difficult for me to read.

"Have you always known?" he asked softly, "whose daughter you were?"

"Yes."

"And yet you stayed away. Not trusting that your father could keep you safe?"

I did not want to dwel on the note of hurt in his voice, on his face. "I loved uncle Robert, and he loved me more than his own life. He'd always done what he believed was best for me. You may argue that my mother wasn't in a sane state of mind, that uncle Robert shouldn't have taken her word. But I trusted his judgement. I still do."

His lips thinned. Maybe my words hurt him, but they had to be said. I continued.

"Even now, you still don't believe that your people may have had something to do with my mother's death, do you?"

"You are right. I cannot imagine that someone from my people, from my court, would have had a hand in killing my mate." he shook his head, "apparently we will not agree on that matter. Yet, here you are, in Europe. From where you were supposed to be kept away."

"Circumstances have changed," I said, "I need answers. And I plan to find them."

"Ah," his gaze softened a bit, a trace of a smile on his face, "and you have found the right person to help you."

He referred to Arthur. "A lucky coincidence," I said, "I would've been a fool not to take his help when offered."

Orion's brow arched, his expression turned stone cold in a heartbeat when he turned it to Arthur.

"And I suppose, Lord Arthur, this is the reason why your man has been sniffing around the entire evening."

Arthur smiled, a deadly threat, "Yes, and he will keep doing so. You see, I am very interested in this particular issue. It has brought many buried things to light up to date, and we haven't even gotten to the bottom of it."

Orion took a deep breath and looked back at me, "I suppose Robert has told you about your mother's condition. Have you been affected by it?"

"You're asking if I ever found myself in a blood craze. The answer is no. There are no side effects."

Yet.

He nodded, then looked at Arthur again.

"There are people who know about her mother's state when she was pregnant with her. Gossip will make those people more numerous. Some will take it upon themselves to rid the world of her, for they see her as a threat. She will be a target." Orion said, "I will put people on a security detail for her."

"She's one of my people," Arthur said, his voice deceptively soft, "And she will be under my protection at all times."

A knock sounded on the door. Neither Orion nor Arthur broke eye contact.

I scowled, "She is right here. And she's well capable of taking care of herself, thank you very much."

Arthur smiled, Orion and his consort raised their brows.

Okay, so I was a bit testy. I rather believed I earned it after everything that had happened to me.

The door opened, and in walked the rest of the Five. Along with two witches and three shapeshifters, all of whom felt incredibly powerful.

All eyes glanced at me at least once, before the immortals took seats around the room. Charles walked over with a nod from Arthur's.

"We'll resume our discussion later," Arthur said. Charles put a hand on the small of my back.

"Very well." Orion said.

"Let's go princess," Charles whispered, a mocking smile lurking in his eyes.

I glared at him, pulling away from his hand as we walked out, leaving the most powerful immortals in the world behind.

"Don't. Just don't."



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