Fae Dominance (14 page)

Oberon walked over to the Robin of my memories and cupped his cheek with his palm. “My dear sweet boy,” Oberon sighed before kissing my forehead. “No father could ask for a better son. You are wise and your heart is kind, no matter what others may believe. I truly wish I could name you my heir. You, the son of my heart, would make a wonderful king one day.

“What would I do without you, my Puck? The day I found you on the banks of that river was the most blessed in my long existence,” Oberon sighed deeply.

“Know this, my Puck. You are my son, and although this babe will be my heir—you will be its brother. You first had my heart and with you by my side, that heart will be big enough to share that love.”

The shadow Robin held the king’s hand to his cheek before turning his face into it. “I love you, Father, and I will give thanks every day of my life that you saved me that day long ago.”

“Puck,” the king exclaimed at the thanks as the memory faded and another took its place.

The darkness began to lighten as a babe cried. A female's voice could be heard screaming down the hall. The sound becoming louder the closer she came.

“My Lord, quickly, my Lord, arise,” the maidservant burst into Oberon’s palace chambers, startling the inhabitants in the best. Oberon rose from the bed quickly while three rumpled heads peeked from under the covers moaning at the disturbance. Their shrill voices rose to join the clamor.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“How dare you intrude on the king’s chambers?”

“Insolent, girl, do you have any idea who I am?”

“Silence,” Oberon demanded in a deadly calm voice. The three females in his bed began to open their mouth in protest when my past self slipped from the shadows.

“Ladies,” I purred. “Perhaps you would like to go back to your own chambers and refresh yourself.” I nodded to a couple of guards who stepped forward and hustled the beauties from the room.

My eyes had met the king’s and he nodded in approval before turning back to the maidservant. “Now, child, tell me what is wrong? What has caused such a panic,” Oberon raised a golden brow in amusement.

I remember that I silently chuckled along with him as nothing could possibly warrant this commotion.

“It’s a baby, my King! There is a new-born babe left outside the gates. I have never seen anything like it in all my years upon this world.”

“What,” Oberon gasped. My own breath caught in my throat. Could Mab have been so daft as to leave an infant on the steps of the palace? In a land where children were so rare…anything could have happened.

“Where is it now,” Oberon demanded.

The girl curtsied in her fear. “He is downstairs, my Lord. Isbeth has him. She still has milk from her own little one and was kind enough to nurse him while I fetched you.”

“My Puck, get to Isbeth now and watch over the babe. I will be there shortly.” His eyes softened as they met mine. “A son, my Puck. You have a brother.”

I folded from the room and the scene changed to the kitchens. Isbeth was a lovely Fae female. She was lesser Fae, but more gracious than most highborn Fae I had met.

I found them in the kitchens sitting on a stool by the fire. Herbs hung in dried bunches above the hearth and their aroma filled the air.

A soft suckling sound came from the blankets in Isbeth’s arms and I cautiously made my way to her before kneeling at her side.

She looked up at me with a winsome smile on her Brownie like face. For a hafling, she was striking in a wild magic sort of way.

Her mother was a Brownie and her father a Yarthkin. The mix seemed to have worked well for her. She looked almost human but with elongated features and a much smaller childlike frame.

At most, she would stand at nearly five feet in height, and she was colored shades of brown from her head to her toes. Chestnut brown curls fell down her back and over her shoulders. The Yarthkin ears poked long and sharp from between them. Isbeth’s eyes tilted like a cats and the heart of the earth shown from them. Her skin was almost a milky chocolate in color and if ever there had been a female born to mother, it was this one.

“My Lord,” she whispered. “A most precious gift has been left at the door. Do you think perchance it was meant for me?” Hope rang in her voice and I glanced down at her own toddling babe playing quietly by her side.

As gently as possible I broke this beautiful creature’s heart. “Sweeting, look at your feet. Your blessings abound. This one is meant for another.”

She looked down at her tiny Faeling and smiled sadly. “You speak the truth, Oberon’s Puck. This child is his father’s son and none would deny it. What I would give though to have a brood to run at my feet,” she sighed.

“You may yet,” I consoled her. “This one will need a mother’s milk and neither I nor his father can provide,” I chuckled.

Brown eyes lit up with hope and joy as she softly exclaimed. “Do you think it would be possible to nurse this gift? My wee Moss has already begun to give up her nursing for more solid fare.”

The voice of our king rose behind us and the tiny Moss jumped up and ran to him. She fell into a half-hearted curtsey before flinging herself into Oberon’s open arms.

At nearly two, she was as spry and bright as any child was at twice her age.

“Obron,” she shouted.

Her mother cleared her throat gently and gave her little one a speaking look. Moss looked abashed for a moment and twirled her nut brown curls.

“Lord Obron,” she clarified. “My mother has found a gift! I wants to keeps it.”

Oberon laughed at her attempt at his name and her lack of refrain.

“Little one, this one is not for you to keep, he belongs to me,” Oberon chucked the little one under the cheek before continuing, “However, my Puck has a point. He will need a breast to suckle and a woman’s loving touch. I know none better than our fair Isbeth.”

Tears glistened in the halfling's eyes and Isbeth nodded her head regally. “You do us a great service, my King. But come and look at your sweet boy.”

She pulled back the blankets she had wrapped him in and the tiny prince sleepily blinked electric blue eyes back at us. In that moment our hearts had been captured. It brought Oberon to his knees beside me. He gently sat Moss down by her mother and lifted the content babe from Isbeth’s arms.

“Blayre,” Oberon whispered. “He will be known as Blayre.”

The image faded and then they came at a faster rate. Years and years of memories. There were scenes of Blayre’s first steps and stumbles. His laughter ringing through the halls as he skipped down them with joy in his heart. Tears filled my eyes as I watched once again the young boy becoming a man. From infant to toddler to boy to youth.

I smiled sadly, it seemed only yesterday his laughing face took on a sullen pout while he argued with his father.

One particular scene slowed of its own volition and I found myself falling deep into the memory.

“Father,” an angry sixteen-year-old Blayre raged. “I am a man grown! It is ridiculous that you keep me here like an infant! Puck,” he gestured wildly in my past self’s direction, “gets to go, why not me? I am the heir to the throne; I should be the one going into the wild woods to speak with Lord Cernunnos.”

I watched as I laughed. “Dear brother, I have a few years on you,” I smirked at him. “Besides, it is because you are the heir to the throne that you cannot go. The wild woods is not safe for anyone, even me. You are too precious to risk.”

“Shite,” declared Blayre.

“Son,” Oberon growled. “You will watch your tongue.”

The young prince turned to his father and faced him head on. “It’s nothing but the truth, Father. I understand if it is too dangerous to go, but it is pure shite that Puck is any less precious than I. Is he not my brother and your son? However, by the cruel twist of fate and his lack of blood ties to you, he would be the rightful heir to the throne and not I. He is the one who leads and others follow. If your Puck fell, then this kingdom would find it hard pressed to recover. I am nothing in comparison. If I lost my brother then I would not want to carry on.”

I could remember how my heart ached in those moments. No one other than the king had ever loved me so. My hand reached out and cupped Blayre’s face and I kissed his forehead before pulling him to me.

“It does not matter that blood does not tie us. Our hearts and souls do. You are my brother in all ways that matter; nothing will ever stop the love I have for you.”

The sound of soft feminine laughter echoed in the hall and the two brothers pulled apart and looked at the entrance to the room. Flustered joy passed over Blayre’s face and Oberon and I watched as our little Moss ran into the room.

She was no bigger than her mother was with wild nut-brown curls corkscrewing down her back. At nearly eighteen years of age, she showed the promise of the female she would one day mature to be.

I looked at Oberon with a telling glance. Blayre felt much more than brotherly affection for the girl, and we both knew it. For now, they were still young enough the affection did not bother anyone.

Privately, I had spoken to Oberon about their future. There would be ideals on where Blayre could lay his troth and many would not see a halfling girl as worthy of a king’s son. Thankfully, the king himself did not agree with this train of thought but he believed it was years away as well.

However, looking back, and watching the way Blayre interacted with Moss, things would come to a head much sooner than any of us had planned.

“What is with the long faces you two? There is no need to be so serious,” Moss exclaimed.

The memory was so vivid I almost felt as if I were watching it happen for the first time again. The way Blayre’s face lit up and Moss’s gentle laughter.

“Mother sent me to get you, Blayre. She said to remind you that you had promised to help her in the gardens today.” Moss flipped back her hair and took on a serene expression mimicking her mother. “A great king knows his subject, young prince. To know those subjects you must first be one.” She giggled before slipping her arm through Blayre’s. “Come along now, my prince, and do as you are told. Surely you have learned by now it is much easier for you just to do what I tell you,” Moss exclaimed.

With a rueful shake of his head, Blayre bowed to his father and turned back to Moss. “As you wish, my lady, I am but your humble servant,” he murmured before following her out of the room.

The scene faded and I found myself back in the room with Kale and the king. Thankfully, my magic had held and Oberon still slept.

Unfortunately, I could feel the tears tracking down my face. I had a hand in the loss of that loving boy as much as Mab did.

Kale pulled me closer to him and kissed the top of my head. “How the hell did that boy turn into a murdering psychopath?”

I turned pain filled eyes to him and whispered, “Simple, my wolf, we did not pay attention and when he was at his weakest his gods be-damned mother poisoned him against us. All he wanted was to prove himself and be with Moss. The courtiers belittled his choice and whispers constantly found its ways to his ears of how the king would never approve.

“Suitable females were paraded in front of him. The court treated Moss poorly. Never while in the king’s hearing, but it was done. By the time we realized what was going on, Mab had weaved her lies and convinced him that he could have it all by following her. Now here we are,” I shuddered.

“And there isn’t any hope that we can get him back?” my wolf asked me.

“None,” I sighed wearily.

Kale held me tighter before he said with quiet determination.

“Then we will do what we must.”

Chapter Fourteen

We had left Oberon to rest. I had made sure that he would not be disturbed and if somehow Blayre did make it past my defenses then we were only in the next room. I would leave nothing to chance until this was over with. Kale had taken it all in and accepted it with quiet reserve.

I had become accustomed to the rash and impulsive young Alpha. He now showed me why he held the position of power he did. When it was required, he was deadly in his determination to do what was necessary.

“How do you propose we draw him out?” Kale was asking me. I quickly had to pull myself back into the game. These lapses could prove deadly. I knew that one day Blayre would have to be dealt with. I had just not expected it so soon.

“Moss is the key,” I mused.

“The girl he was head over heals for? I did not realize she was still around. Are they an item?”

“They love each other, Kale, they always have. The courts are a cruel place for young love. It derides it and there are those that will use it for their own gain. It is why we are in the situation that we are in now. By the time we realized how deeply Blayre’s feelings ran for Moss,” I shrugged, “Mab had already dug her insidious claws into the boy and twisted his mind. He still loves Moss and she him. Somehow, she still sees the boy he was and swears that he is still in there.

“Is he?” Kale asked.

I just shook my head sadly. That day had passed long ago. It was only with Moss and sometimes Isbeth that Blayre showed any emotion other than hate.

“Do you have a plan on how to stop him? We need to get him to come to us. I know nothing of Faery and the last thing we need to do is to chase him halfway across the world.”

“Moss,” I said sadly. “She will bring him to us. We just have to feed her false information and she will take it to him.” I held up a hand to stop Kale’s next question. “She isn’t a part of this. Moss is a good and sweet soul, just like her mother, and it burdens me to use her in this way. But, my wolf, we do what we must.”

Kale stood from the table we were sitting at and came to stand behind me. His hands grasped my shoulders tightly and began to knead the tense flesh there. The casual intimacy was still such a new thing and I reveled in it.

“It’s hard being in charge, Robin. We have to make the tough decisions and hurt those we were meant to protect at times.” Kale bent over and nuzzled my cheek before he continued, “We do what we must, just understand I will be with you every step of the way and when it’s over, together we will put the pieces back together.”