Faith is Fallen (Broken Fantasies Series)

Chapter 5

Beathan returned home in high spirits, marking into the throne room with a big grin on his face, pleased with himself.

"Ah, Beathan. Come to me," his mother, Queen Caiomhe said, motioning him towards the throne she sat on.

With a sagging of shoulders, he sighed, turned on his heel, and attempted to give her a warm smile while in his head he wished her seven kinds of death. "Yes, mother?"

"Have you seen your sister?"

He gritted his teeth, pushing the anger down that rose up every time his mother's clear preference for his sister rose to smack him in the face. One day, he vowed. One day I'll make her suffer for her favoritism. "Not recently, mother. Last I saw her was when she was heading to the Seelie Gate. I haven't seen her since."

His mother looked at him pensively, and he tried to determine if she suspected him. But she looked away before he could decide.

"Thank you, Beathan. That will be all."

He gritted his teeth again as she dismissed him like some servant, and it took all his willpower to keep from storming out of the room in a rage. He would not give her the satisfaction.

#

Cara lived in a sea of pain and darkness. When the physical pain no longer overcame her, the emotional pain took over. The parting words of her brother haunted her, repeating back to her in a litany in her nightmares.

Time meant nothing, and a nagging thought kept hinting at her that this was the human definition of hell. Agony that never ended.

But of course it did end. There were bouts of blissful nothingness, but of course nothingness had it's disadvantages in that it went by entirely too fast.

The only positive thing she could remember from those times was a single voice, a deep rich brogue that seemed to rumble through her body like wild cat's purr. It made her want to surface to the painful world of the living even when nothingness beckoned to her so lovingly.

#

The woman from the woods had survived the night, a miracle in and of itself. He sat in a chair off to the side, watching over her to allow his healer some sleep. The bloodstained gown she'd been wearing still graced her body, though it did a pitiful job of covering her back.

It was the gown that caught his attention now. He had never seen its like. Made of what he could only assume was finely woven silk, it was of a design he had never seen before. Intricate Celtic knots decorated them hems, at least the ones that he could see. The sleeves hung down off the bed, touching the floor with their length.

He couldn't help thinking that with the intricacy of the patterns on the hems and the delicacy of the fabrics she wore, she must be some form of noblewoman, maybe even royalty, though she certainly wasn't Scottish.

The door at his back creaked open, and a servant came in with a tray of food, Duncan at her back.

"My lord," she said as she bowed to him, handing him the tray.

"Thank you." He absently picked at the food, his focus on the occupant of the bed.

Duncan walked in, maneuvering around the bed, and leaning in close to the sleeping beauty's face. "She is lovely."

The comment unnerved Conall, sending alarm coursing through him. All he could think about when he looked at her was sympathy at her pain, anger toward her attacker. True, he'd been mesmerized by her beauty the night before, but he'd attributed that as much to avoidance of certain truths as anything else. Somehow, he doubted his brother capable of that type of emotion.

And he certainly didn't look like he was suffering. He looked all too contemplative for Conall's peace of mind.

#

Each time Cara surfaced from nothingness, it brought her a little bit closer to reality, a little bit closer to consciousness. Though the words escaped her, that distinctive voice taunted her, tempted her. So foreign, and yet so familiar, it made her want to rise up through the layers of pain and despair.

But the sweetness of nothingness called to her once more, a siren's song that drowned out the much elusive voice.

#

The next time Cara rose out of the nothingness, she actually achieved consciousness. She opened her eyes, and got her first glimpse of the room. Next to the opulence of Faery, and specifically the castle that served as seat of power for the Seelie, the room was plain. A bright colored fabric glared in her vision, blocking half of it out. The fabric's texture itched her skin, making her want to move away from it, but she couldn't. Her body wouldn't respond to her commands.

So instead, she took in the rough hewn furniture, the way the light caressed the patterns in the wood. Her gaze followed the places where stone met stone in the walls, moving in patterns that was both mind numbing and entertaining before her mind drifted off to sleep.

Author's Note: If Faith is Fallen receives 2 additional votes by 9pm EST today, I will post Chapter 5 today as well. That's 15 total votes for the book. I really loved being able to post Chapter 4 early.  It just made my day.  Keep up the good work, guys!  ;-)