The Seven Year King (The Faerie Ring #3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

him and roared, “GET OFF MY THRONE.”

Chapter Six
     

    “I t is Beltane, Donegal.” Larkin’s silky voice sounded from close behind Tiki. “The roar of the true Stone of Tara was heard throughout Faerie. It’s time for you to take your darkness and return to the Plain of Starlight.” She waved her hand through the air is if to erase him. “Be gone from here.”
    Donegal walked slowly down the steps toward Tiki, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “So the rumour is true. A new Seelie Queen.” There was something deadly in his words. “Where have you been all these years, my pretty?”
    Tiki returned his stare. “I’m here now.”
    Bearach, Donegal’s tánaiste , came to stand behind him, arms crossed over his great chest, his red hair as bright as the flames that lit the torches. “It’s the same girl,” he said in a low voice.
    Tiki pointed at Dain. “I want that prisoner released.”
    Donegal swiveled to see where she pointed, then slowly turned back to Tiki, a calculating look on his face. “He’s a spy. Deceitful.” He raised his black eyebrows. “Untrustworthy.”
    “I’ll negotiate.”
    A smile played at the corners of Donegal’s lips, revealing teeth yellowed and blackened with decay. He shook his head. “Just like Larkin. You haven’t even sat on the throne and already you want something of mine.” Rings glittered on his fingers as he drew his black cape closed and stepped toward Tiki. “Surely you know there are no trades for spies. Only death.”
    He stopped so close Tiki she could see the pock marks on his face, the jewels embedded on the gold crown he wore, the malice that glittered in the utter blackness of his eyes. “Your friend has been declared our Seven Year King.” His voice grew deceitfully mild. “On Samhain, I’m going to feed his heart to the liche. ”
    A laugh erupted from deep within Donegal’s chest. With a smooth sweep of his cape, the Winter King disappeared, leaving only a handful of black feathers that drifted lazily to the floor. Along with Donegal, most of the occupants of the room also disappeared, including Dain.
    A STUNNED SILENCE filled the air after Donegal’s departure, soon replaced by the cheering of those who remained.
    “Sit on the throne,” Larkin said, urging Tiki up the steps.
    “She’s right, Teek,” Rieker added, sliding his hand under Tiki’s arm. “Claim what is yours.”
    Tiki turned to Rieker. “But, what about Dain? Did you see—”
    “I saw him.” Rieker’s expression was grim. “There’s nothing we could have done, while Donegal had him surrounded by his guards. At least we know he’ll keep Dain alive until Samhain. That gives us some time to form a plan.” He urged her forward. “Take the throne.”
    Still surging with anger, Tiki marched up the steps and sat on the seat protruding from the belly of the golden dragon. She turned and her jaw sagged in amazement at the change in the Great Hall.
    The shadows and darkness were gone, replaced by light and warmth. The black and gold fluted columns were now white and gold, sparkling in the shafts of sunlight that poured in through diamond-paned windows. Verdant vines, loaded with luscious looking blooms, grew in wild abandon along the columns, the succulent scent of honeysuckle thick in the air.
    Tiki lifted her head. Instead of the macabre and disturbing scenes of death and mutilation that had covered the ceiling before, now there were paintings of pastoral scenes and friendship. Her eyes riveted on one picture in particular—a well-dressed young man, clearly a mortal, held his hand out to a beautiful blond girl with an almost ethereal appearance, a pair of wings shimmering from her back.
    She recognized the picture immediately. It was a depiction of Sir Thomas’ Folly , a painting that hung in Buckingham Palace. The same painting where she’d first hidden the ring of the truce. Rieker had told her the scene was named after a play where a prince fell in love with a