They entered from every wall, their forms gliding through rock and wood as though neither existed. A hundred sluagh it seemed formed from near nothingness. Pale and wraithlike, their bodies showed the way each had died. Wounds on a sluagh were like jewels to a high-born lady, an expression of beauty. Even to the Unseelie, who understood the horrors of the planes, sluagh were monstrous.
And yet, Lach saw an odd beauty to them.
“We seek the king.” They spoke as one, their voices sending a fresh wave of chilled air through the hall.
His father stood, along with Beck and Cian Finn. They each nodded to the group of sluagh, not an ounce of fear showing.
“The Kings of the Seelie Fae welcome you.”
His father nodded as well. “As does the King of the Unseelie.”
A single sluagh floated to the front of the crowd that had now moved, coalescing into a single mob. The sluagh had obviously been a sidhe at one time, the long lines of his body a dead giveaway. The flesh at his throat was mottled and gnarled, signs of the rope that he had hanged from.
“The sluagh are grateful that such high-born men would stoop to speak with us. King Beckett and King Cian, you might be the rightful owners of the Seelie throne, but you do not sit upon it. King Fergus, you rule the Unseelie, but we have no use for you.” His head whipped around, eyes locking firmly on Lachlan. Every one of the sluagh turned in one motion, a great flock of wicked birds of prey. “We seek the King of the Dead.”
Duffy tugged at his tunic. “Damn me, Lach. I think they’re talking about you. Should I get me axe?”
“Hush, Duffy.” For once Shim sounded serious.
“What are you talking about?” His father’s voice boomed through the hall. “Leave my son alone. He isn’t well. Guards, take the princes out.”
Lach stood. He wasn’t about to be hauled out like an idiot child who didn’t know his place. He did know where he belonged. He hated it, but the dead called to him. He turned his eyes on the guards coming in. “Touch me and I’ll kill you. Once you’re dead, I’ll take control of your corpse and turn you on everyone you love. Do you understand?”
“Prince Lachlan, we must do as your father requests. He is king.”
The sluagh leader was suddenly right in his ear, a cold whisper across his flesh. “He is not the king of us, Your Highness, and you know this to be true. Your power is not whole yet without your bondmate at your side. Take power from us. We give it willingly. Show them. Show them all.”
He looked down at Shim, seeking sound counsel, but his brother’s face had turned cold and hard. “I feel it, too, brother, though it is not my power to take. Take it. Show them. ’Tis the only way to prove it.”
Ice edged through him, the sluagh pushing death power his way. He could command this. This was no flare of uncontrolled talent. This was raw power, and he was the master. He reached out to call the dead to him.
A loud wail went up. A grunting and then a scream as the boar that had been roasted and laid out on the table for feasting struggled to its legs. A headless fowl, plucked and covered in sauce, unfurled grotesque wings and tried to fly. The group of sluagh shimmered, their bodies humming with power.
“Enough!” His father roared through the hall. “Enough, son.”
Lach shut the power off with a wink and a great deal of regret. He could have gone further. He’d felt them all in that moment. He’d felt all the dead things of the palace rising again. He’d felt the animals lying dead in the fields and around the palace courtyard, small and large. He sensed the goblins who had died in a recent sickness. He’d felt the ogre they’d killed but days ago stir. He’d felt them all and realized he could have an army.
And then he’d felt a softer stirring and a gentle whisper.
No, Lachlan. Let the dead rest, son.
His mother. He’d reached out and caught his mother asleep forever in her tomb.
Lach fell back into his seat, his hands shaking with fear. Fear of what he could become.
The sluagh smiled, a ghastly thing. “You begin to see, Your Highness.”
His father was suddenly at his side. “What have you done to my son?”
Beck Finn was there, too, studying him. “How has your power manifested without the bond? We were told you refused to bond.”
“We bonded long ago, but our mate is trapped on the Seelie plane.” Shim stared at the Seelie king, waiting to be laughed at.
“Fuck me, they’re powerful,” Cian Finn said, his eyes wide. “They couldn’t have taken on the full bond, yet they’re able to do all of this.” He frowned. “Could you leave supper alone next time? I don’t think I can eat that thing now.”
Lach had to smile a bit. “I’ll try.”
Beck got to one knee. “They want to deal with you, Prince Lachlan. Can you handle them?”
“Yes. I can handle them. I know them well.” He’d always been fascinated by the sluagh. “Duffy, grab the box, please.”
The gnome hopped down and retrieved the box filled with trinkets. Gifts for the unshriven dead.
“Go on then.” Lach nodded to the sluagh leader.
Duffy flushed, standing there with the box in his small hands. “You want me to give it to him?”
“If you’re scared, I’ll do it.” It was said with a harsh edge. Duffy wanted to be a warrior. A warrior should be able to handle the simple passing of a box.
The gnome’s face firmed into a stubborn pout. “I ain’t scared of nothing, Lach.”
He marched to the sluagh and held up his box. “Gifts from the princes.”
A wicked smile crossed the sluagh’s face as he opened the box. “Treasures. Come and take your part.”
The group descended like a pack feasting on a kill. There was shuffling and the pressing of shade to shade, but finally they broke up, each holding some small piece in their hands. And one by one they faded away until only the leader remained.
“You are wise, King of the Dead.”
Lach shrugged. It had been a good bet he could thin the herd with a simple gift. “I listen to my people.”
“And they will listen to you.” The sluagh cocked his head, taking in Cian Finn. “I don’t like that one. Send him away.”
Cian. The Green Man. Light to his darkness.
“No.” Lach wouldn’t let a sluagh control this. If he was the King of the Dead, then he was king. He could feel his brother’s support. “The king stays. Now, sluagh, I’ve given you your gifts. I’ve allowed you to feel my power. Tell me your secrets. It’s why you’ve come.”
If there was one thing the sluagh loved more than small trinkets, it was secrets. They listened in, hiding always, to hear the great secrets of the planes, hoarding them like diamonds until the time was right to trade. And then they would whisper, a little touch here or there, sending one country into war and suggesting another go down a path that led to famine. Both would benefit the sluagh.
Lach knew he was walking along the razor’s edge.
“Torin is gathering power.” The sluagh waited.
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Lach stood again, Shim at his side, moving as one. “Only today the Seelie kings have come with this news. This is nothing I can use. Be gone.”
He could feel the sluagh’s shock. “I have more, Your Highness.”
“Then you should tell me more or I will cast you from my kingdom.”
The sluagh frowned. “Fine. We have heard the plans of Torin and his hags. They mean to kill all the non-sidhe on their plane and then they will move on to this one. They will attempt to control the Vampire Council with fresh consorts, but each one will be spelled to turn on his or her master when the time is right.”
Beck Finn went white. “He’s promised a hundred consorts to the royals. He’ll bring down the whole plane.”