The Bastard Queen (Viciously Yours #2)

Chapter Six: Walk Away?

I wasn't sure how long we'd spent clutching each other as if the other would suddenly disappear but I couldn't bother to be embarrassed. Not with Dougal. He was possibly the only person in the world who truly knew me. He'd seen me covered in my own shit and piss when Mab denied me showers, saw the way my bones had almost broken through my skin some months, and had witnessed my breakdown after Mab ordered my head shaved in one of her last attempts to dehumanize me. He saw it all and hadn't given me pity; instead he would fiercely whisper through the bars, 'Hold on, Fahbt Siucra. This won't always be your life. Don't let her win.' It had asked everything of me back then, not even three hundred years old at the time, but I had clung to my rapidly disappearing sense of self with a frenzied hope that his words inspired.

"I missed you dearly, Fabht Siúcra." Dougal murmured, rubbing circles over my spine. "I cannot express how sorry I am for not being there that day. I knew something wasn't right but I still left."

"I forgave you a long time ago, it wasn't your fault. Besides you did more for me back then than anyone else, Grimmy." I replied, falling back on the name I'd given him as a child unable to pronounce Grymes.

He sighed heavily, "I could have done more."

"Not without dying."

"Nevertheless, it will always remain my greatest shame. You didn't deserve what she did to you then or now."

"No, I didn't." I agreed, pulling away so we were face to face. My chest warmed as I realized what the pale green streaks in his hair meant and grabbed his shoulder, "Would you look at that, Orlaith finally took pity on you. Congratulations."

Shifting on his knees, he gave me a bright smile, "Took me several thousand years to capture her free spirit but it was well worth the wait."

With his presence still ringing alarms in my mind, I got down to business,"What are you doing here, Dougal?"

"What do you mean?" He questioned before gesturing to the C on his chest. "I thought it was obvious, Fabht Siúcra. I'm here to help you win the war and reclaim your throne."

Following my will, the metal of my swords slithered down the back of my raised arm to gather at my fingertips. "They told me you resigned as Mab's Commander."

"That's correct."

I shook my head with a heavy heart, "You and I both know that no one just resigns from such a high position. Especially, a Commander. You're too dangerous for her to let go." The short throwing knife grazed his throat at an angle pressing against his carotid. The threat to his life was clear, he wouldn't survive the slash to his throat.

Humans got it wrong in their little fairy tale books. Though it was said that the extinct Divine Fae, who were the closest beings we had to gods, could only be killed by iron. It wasn't the only way to kill a Fae, it was just the nastier way. Fae metals that were produced from the mines of Tir Na Nog and then crafted into weapons by the Unseelie, who could wield metal, also did the trick. Cut a major artery or chop off a Fae's head with Fae metal and they'd die before their enhanced healing abilities could kick in.

Although, the human hunters and a few Fae stuck to using iron for three different reasons. First, Fae metal was impossible to hold unless you were Fae. Second, binding us in iron robbed us of our magickal abilities and our naturally enhanced strength, speed and healing making us human. Third, It's a great metal for the torture of all Faekind. When iron pierces our flesh it burns and tingles like a son of a bitch. And if it's injected into the bloodstream, it's a very slow and painful death drawn out over days. It was like you could feel the iron physically eating away at the magick in your soul.