Sophie Oak: Bound

Rhys of the Gentle Hills walked in and placed a large platter of food on the desk between them. “I thought Your Highness might join me in the noon meal.”

Beck’s stomach rumbled at the sight and smell of so much good food. Gnomes knew how to cook. He nodded, trying not to betray his excitement at the thought of being full for once. “I will. I thank you for your hospitality, Rhys, but you have to get out of the habit of calling me by titles that no longer have any meaning.”

He picked up two slices of dark bread and made a huge sandwich of thick venison and a pleasant-smelling cheese.

Rhys poured water into two mugs. “You’re giving up, then? You are content to allow your Uncle Torin to remain on the throne of your father? The very throne he slew your father on?”

Just like that, the food turned to sawdust in his mouth. Beck took a long drink and forced himself to continue eating. He would need the energy for the battle to come. He needed to maintain control.

“There is nothing of contentment in my life. There hasn’t been for the past thirteen years.” Beck’s mind started to go back to the terrible night when he lost both his parents and his sister. He had only been able to save his twin, Cian. He chose, as he had since that day when he was seventeen, to look to the future. “It is not that I don’t dream of taking back what rightfully belongs to me, Rhys. It is simply a matter of practicality. My loyalists are gone.”

Rhys shook his bearded head vigorously. “That is untrue, Your Highness. There are many here, and many more on the home plane. Tir na nÒg is full of Fae longing for Your Highness.”

Beck sighed because he would have to put this to the gnome in blunt words. It would likely ruin the man’s illusions of him, but then, Beck no longer had use for illusions. “Peasants, Rhys, you’re talking about peasants. While I am thrilled to have the love of the people, money is needed to wage war, and I have none. I am barely able to buy my way into this tourney. I have no idea how I’m going to clothe my mate after I’ve won her. She’ll be roaming the forests in one of my beat-up old shirts. If I can’t even take care of my mate, I’ve got no idea how I should go about fighting a war.”

Rhys leaned forward. His small, ruddy face was fervent. “The loyalists heard that Cian was fading. They know that if Cian dies, you will be half a man. Symbiotic twins are very powerful, my liege, but everyone knows that if your intellectual half fades, you will not be fit to rule.”

“Hence my long ride through that bloody forest to get here,” Beck admitted. “Cian is fading because he has no female. We are long past the age when a suitable bondmate would have been found and our triad formed. He has lost hope. He is dying. Your summons could not have come at a better time, old friend. We are desperate.”

Beck polished off his second sandwich and thought about a third. It seemed rude to eat the majority of the meal.

Rhys pushed the plate toward him. “Please, Your Highness. I am not the richest man, but allow me to aid you. Our food is plentiful. My wife will make sure your mate has suitable clothing. My son has ensured that your steed is stabled and well-fed. You will find your saddle bags filled with everything you need for the journey. I am pleased to serve my king.”

Beck was aware of the great sense of gratitude he felt for the small gnome. Rhys’s family had once served the King of the Seelie Fae, and Rhys and his family had preferred exile to serving Torin, the Pretender. “I do not know how to thank you, old friend. If you ever have need of a sword, I trust you will call on me.”

The gnome grinned. “I know who to call, but no one bothers us. The deal we made with the Planeswalker clan protects us.”

Beck knew the deal well. The Planeswalkers came from a plane many called Hell. They were a demonic clan and very mercenary, but easily controlled with an ironclad contract. Demons could access all planes and were great believers in contracts. Rhys and his tribe of ex-patriots served as salesmen for the demons’ wares. The demon tribe would gather items of interest. Rhys would sell them and take a cut. It had worked well for both sides.

Beck finished the last of the food and took a deep breath. It felt good to be full. Now he needed to take a nap. He had several hours before he would fight. He just had to be sure of a couple of things before he found a corner to curl up in. “I want my mate covered.”

He couldn’t stand the thought of her beautiful body on display. She was his. He should be the only one to enjoy her loveliness.

Rhys frowned. “You know I cannot, Your Highness. The female must be properly displayed. If the Planeswalker discovered I was treating you differently, he would accuse me of breaking our contract.”

Beck didn’t like the answer, but he had to accept it. He’d had to accept many unsavory truths since the day his world fell apart. “Do the vamps know she’s here?”

“Yes,” came the quiet reply. “I had to inform the Vampire Governments as well. I gave them very short notice, but fifteen have already shown up. You know they can move very quickly when they want to. You were the first to see her. I have to open her to public view soon. I must have at least ten warriors in the tourney to see a profit.”

“Well, you’ll have that if fifteen vampires are here. They’ll all fight for her.” It was a sad coincidence of fate that bondmates were so alluring to vampires. Since his uncle had closed the Seelie mounds to all outsiders, it had become difficult to find a bondmate, and the practice of vampires wooing faery bondmates had disappeared. Luckily it wasn’t all vampires, just the ones of royal blood, who required a woman like Meg as a mate. He had asked a vampire once why they needed Fae bondmates to procreate. Beck had been told that there was something about their blood that strengthened the vampire. They called the women “consorts.” A vampire of royal blood could form a psychic bond with the female, much as Beck intended to form with Meg. “The vampires will fight. They will all lose.”

Rhys nodded his head. “Yes, sire, they will. I will make you a deal. I will personally ensure that no one else is allowed physical access to the bondmate. The other suitors will only be allowed to view her. I will tell the other Fae that we’ve had an expert prove her ability to bond. You are certain she can form the bond? The demon seemed very sure. He said she glows to him, and that is how he knew.”

“I am certain,” Beck said, remembering how it felt to reach out to her with his mind and have her respond. “The vampires say our bondmates glow, as well. I can’t see it, but I feel her. She is perfect.”

“Perfect enough to form a true triad?” Rhys asked speculatively. “You know what the legends say.”

Beck laughed long and hard. He knew the legends. They were ridiculous. They were stories to tell children at bedtime. The legend claimed that one day, a pair of symbiotic twins would be born of royal blood. They would form a triad with a mysterious bondmate, and she would allow their true powers to flow. The intellectual half, who the people called the philosopher king, would become a Green Man, bringing prosperity to the tribes. The warrior king would gain the strength of a Storm Lord. The threesome would usher in a time of great joy for the Fae. It was a nice story, but Beck had stopped believing in legends a long time before.

“Don’t pin your hopes on that, my friend. Meggie is just a bondmate. She is beautiful and suits my purposes. She will save my brother and balance us. I am not immune to the effects of not bonding at a proper age. I feel it, too. Meg can reverse the effects.” He hoped everyone wasn’t as prone to believing old stories as the gnome. “You mentioned a deal? What is my end of this bargain?”