They turned to the now open doorway to see Fer-Diorich close the medieval-styled door behind him.
A bad feeling settled in her gut. Seeing the evil Fae again so soon could not be a good omen, and the smirk on his handsome face proved it, at least for her. She wasn’t sure what Émilien thought, but given his recent reaction to the man, it probably wasn’t good.
“What are we doing here?” Émilien asked, all tenderness gone from his tone, his eyes glistening in fury.
“I changed my mind. You still have a job to do for me, and to make certain it’s completed this time, your woman will remain here as my guest.”
Hel reached out and discreetly laid her hand on Émilien’s back, letting a cold stream of magic flow into him. His muscles relaxed, the tautness dissolving.
“I owe you nothing, FD, so you can forget it. I will not sacrifice Hel.”
Fer-Diorich scowled. “Who said anything about sacrificing anyone? I said she would be my guest. The last thing I need is for Loki or Fenrir,” he gave her a quick glance, “Yes, I know about your dear brother.”
His gaze returned to Émilien. “As I was saying, the last thing I need is for them to exact vengeance for her death so, for now, she won’t die. However, if you fail, then it won’t matter because we will all be dead.”
Hel’s gaze darted between them, an ache beginning between her eyebrows and spreading, morphing into a throbbing headache. “Wait,” she said, pushing past Émilien. He tried stopping her, but she sidestepped his reach and glared at Fer-Diorich. “If you want either of our help, actually, Émilien’s help and my cooperation,” she corrected herself, ignoring the low chuckle behind her. “It would be best if you explained what you need and why, instead of just taking it.”
She crossed her arms and tilted her head to one side, studying the Celtic god. “Why is this so important that you would risk your life and your world’s, because when my brother gets here, and he will get here whether you want him to or not, he will tear it apart looking for me. Is your life and those of everyone else here, whereverhereis, worth that?”
“In a simple word, yes.”
Pursing her lips and trying not to grind her teeth, she raised one eyebrow. “That’s a non-answer.”
“You have no right—”
She dropped her fists onto her hips as a wash of heat swamped her body, her anger mounting. “I have every right, you imbecile! You are asking the guardian of the Shadow Lands to stop doing his job, which is to care for the gods of all pantheons and their magical creatures when they can no longer stay in their homes. Émilien is the strongest person I have ever known and the most just. He considers both sides of every situation and arrives at a solution that bonds people together instead of pushing them apart.”
She blew out a frustrated breath, calming herself as her anger continued to increase, which was never a good sign. “What do you think happens to pantheons when people stop believing in them? I’ll tell you what happens. They cease to exist. The entire pantheon disappears, gods, goddesses, and creatures alike. Not to mention my dead are disappearing! Do you have any idea howbadthat is? Your little plan is so insignificant in the grand scheme of things.”
“It isn’t for me.” Fer-Diorich’s silver gaze darkened. “I am trying to save all Fae, not just to get what I want. Having the Seelie and Unseelie courts divided is a travesty. Those who worshiped us, through their ignorant and misguided attempts to understand basic life, were the ones who tore us apart. Do either of you know who has been sentenced to the Unseelie Court? Soldiers, women who had children out of wedlock or who had lost their husbands for one reason or another, and even unbaptized babies, according to human religion, are those sentenced to the Unseelie Court.”
For the first time, Hel saw the Fae’s demeanor crack and caught a glimpse of a very feeling man hidden behind a shell of ice. Something she knew about intimately. “We are one people and should live and work together,” Fer-Diorich continued. “The Unseelie Court has become the prison for those in the Seelie Court. Why? Because our queen and king can’t get along and hate one another. Who suffers from their whims? All Fae.”
His silver gaze speared Émilien’s. “I created you to help me solve this problem. I chose you for the same traits Hel has just named. You are strong, just, and methodical in everything you do. You are the perfect general for my army.”
“What army?” Émilien interjected, his voice filled with frustration. “I think your belief in the courts is a bit jaded. After all, aren’t you living in the Unseelie Court as a prisoner because of not only what you created but also how you used that creation? Your recipe for these creations fell into the hands of a madman, and the war on Midgard turned more devastating than it should have been. Hitler and his circle were determined to take over the entire world. Sound familiar?”
Fer-Diorich nodded. “Yes, it does, because I made sure he had the recipe.”
Émilien scowled. “Why in Hades would you do such a thing?” He held out one paw and shook his head. “No, I don’t want to know. It would just piss me off more than I already am. If the Seelie and Unseelie courts should be together, tell me why they were split apart to begin with?”
“Ever since the Fir Bolg warred with the Tuatha de Danann against the Fomorians, this animosity has only grown, resulting in constant discord. The true rift began when Christianity and the Britons invaded. While the humans believed their religion to be one of spiritual kindness and love, that is far from the truth or the history.”
Fer-Diorich ran his fingers through his long hair, each strand slithering back into place like a million snakes. A bit repulsed, Hel shivered as he continued the history lesson.
“It is a religion of power that, in Midgardian history, has been obvious since the popes and bishops ruled through kings, queens, and lords across Europe. These supposed leaders sowed the seeds of mistrust and even hate by pitting the king against his loving queen, turning their union into one of malice and vengeance. That is the world in which I live.”
He dropped into a chair in frustration. “This court has become the monsters of nightmares and evil that everyone believes. I see so much more that it could be and should be, but to accomplish that, I will have to break a few rules and have a little help.”
Émilien crossed his arms. “You mean break every rule, and I’ll be the one doing it while you sit in the background pulling the strings. I haven’t forgotten your modus operandi, FD. I wasn’t birthed yesterday. Even after being poisoned, I retain all my intelligence and memories.”
Hel studied the Fae’s every movement and expression. From the pinched line of his mouth to his shuttered gaze, he was hiding something—something important. If asked, she would wager her entire realm on it. What was he concealing? More importantly, why? If all he needed was Émilien’s help, why take them both? Why would he hold her hostage?
If his mission was true, and it may still be, her ex-husband would give his all to what he believed in, no matter who asked it of him. Fer-Diorich, on the other hand, was very much like her father. He was a trickster and used extreme methods to get his way. After a lifetime dealing with Loki, she knew the signs well.
“If your reasons are so altruistic, why resort to basically kidnapping me and holding me hostage?” she asked and immediately noticed his gaze. A shadow swirled through their depths, like dark paint being stirred into the bright silver. A frisson of fear mingled with excitement zinged through her, then settled deep in her gut. The sensation reminded her of how it felt just before a hunt, like she used to do with Fenrir when she was much younger, maybe close to her daughter’s current age. Hunting with their father had been a mixture of never-ending games and fearing for your life. Just what every little girl wanted, wasn’t it?
“I trust no one, especially those who have betrayed me before. I learned that if Émilien does not interact with the last group of werewolves I created, Midgard will fall at the hands of the German Führer. If they fall, the one person who can sow the seeds of trust and reunite my people will die. She may already be lost, but at the least, I must try.”