The Lethe Stone (The Fae War Chronicles Book 4)

by Jocelyn Fox

  Tess looked up and met her brother’s eyes. She managed a tight smile. “You thought you’d find me here, or your Wild Court healers told you that I was here?”

  Liam shrugged. “Both, I guess.”

  She marked her page in the book with the slim ribbon sewn into the little tome’s spine and motioned to the space next to her. “Not much room, but I’m happy to share it.”

  “That’s certainly a departure from our childhood,” Liam replied as he took the offered seat. He moved with a smooth, sure grace, remarkable for a man of his size. He’d always possessed the surety of movement that spoke of his honed athleticism, but now he held his body with an added elegance that only underscored his strength. It reminded Tess with a painful jab of Luca.

  “You move almost like one of them now,” Tess said off-handedly, trying to keep her voice casual as she waited for the sting of memory to fade. “I mean, you were always more coordinated than me, I’ll give you that, but I guess being one of Vell’s Three has its advantages.”

  Liam made a noncommittal sound. “Or being healed by the fragment of a deity who was one of her Three…”

  Tess set the book aside and then didn’t know what to do with her empty hands. She rubbed her thumbs along the lacy edges of her scars. “I know I made that decision for you. And if you’re…”

  “Stop,” said Liam gently, his green eyes resting on his sister’s face. “We’ve already been over this, Tess. I’m not angry with you. How could I be? You made the best decision that you could at the time. And so far, I’m pretty happy that I’m not dead.” He smiled and leaned back on his hands. He glanced at Tess. “That was a joke. Or at least an attempt at one.”

  She managed a tight smile at his prompt. “I know. I’m sorry. I just keep replaying everything in my head.” She swallowed against the tightening in her throat.

  “Doesn’t do anybody any good to drown in guilt, Bug,” Liam said quietly, putting an arm around her shoulders, careful of the scabbard on her back and her line of stitches.

  “I know that,” Tess said with a sigh. “The rational part of my brain knows that, at least. But sometimes my mind gets away from me.”

  “Then don’t let it get away from you,” Liam suggested.

  “Thanks, I’ll take it under consideration,” she retorted dryly. “I really enjoy reliving the most terrifying day of my life over and over again, not sure I want to cut that short.”

  “Terrifying? I thought it was more epic and exciting.” Quinn stopped at the foot of Sage’s pallet.

  “That will make me feel better about my difficulty processing it too, thanks,” Tess said pointedly. Liam chuckled and Quinn smiled. The tattooed man was less exuberant and sarcastic than before the battle, his ebullient personality dampened by Niamh’s injury.

  “How is she?” Liam asked. None of them needed to say her name aloud to know that he spoke of the Valkyrie.

  Quinn rubbed at the stubble on his strong jaw. “I talk to her. I don’t know if she hears me. Maeve stops by at least once a shift.”

  “No better and no worse?” Tess suggested, thinking of Cora’s earlier words.

  “No worse,” agreed Quinn, “but that doesn’t mean that she’s not getting better and we just can’t see it.” The stubborn set of his mouth dared them to argue, but they didn’t.

  “As much as we respect our…distinguished…visitors,” said Cora from behind Quinn, “if you would like to socialize, please conduct your gatherings outside my ward.”

  Quinn turned to face the Seelie healer, standing almost a full head taller than slim, white-blond Cora. He bowed his head respectfully to her. “Yes, ma’am. Just saying hello to a teammate.” He gave Liam a parting salute, to which Liam replied with a choice single finger. Quinn grinned, gave Tess a nod and strode toward the exit of the healing ward. Cora eyed Liam with a mixture of forbearance and consideration.

  “I promise we’ll be quiet,” said the newest of the Vyldretning’s Three in a voice smooth and soft as velvet.

  “If you disturb any of my charges, I’ll ask you to leave,” said Cora, one pale eyebrow raised.

  “If I disturb any of your charges, I’ll escort myself out without another word,” agreed Liam. Tess observed the exchange between Cora and her brother with barely veiled amusement. Cora fixed Liam with an evaluating look, then nodded and swept purposefully away.

  “Well, now I know that both your sense of humor and your silver tongue survived the encounter with Arcana,” said Tess in a low voice when the Seelie had disappeared from sight.

  “Silver tongue? I can’t imagine what you mean, dear sister,” said Liam with a grin.

  “It doesn’t hurt that you’re a handsome mortal man,” she added, making a face. “Though it does make my head hurt to even think about that.”

  “You and I both aren’t quite mortal anymore,” Liam replied easily. “You know that.”

  Tess waved a hand through the air. “Right. Remnant of a deity for you, ancient weapon of power for me.” She shook her head. “Though I’ve been pretty much on my own since the battle.”

  “Maybe it needs to recharge,” Liam suggested.

  “If it was awake, it would reprimand you for that comment,” she replied, “but that’s proof of how deeply it’s sleeping. Hibernating. Whatever it is.” She glanced at Sage and watched him for a moment before turning back to her brother. “Do you feel Arcana at all? Anything left in there?”

  “Sometimes.” Liam blinked and then shrugged. “Nothing to write home about.” He motioned to the leather-bound book by Tess’s knee. “Speaking of home, research on the Gate?”

  “I have to do something to keep me…well, not even busy, but at least feeling like I’m doing something.”

  “Vell meant what she said, you know. She’ll help you.”

  “I know. I don’t doubt her.” Tess shifted. “I think Titania will offer her support, but Mab…Mab is the wild card. She doesn’t like me much.”

  “You never really explained that to me.”

  “Well,” Tess said, “there’s not really much of an explanation. She doesn’t seem to like anybody. She uses people. And I didn’t let her use me. I escaped Darkhill and became the Bearer when she had other plans.”

  “I see,” said Liam, though his tone made it clear he didn’t.

  Tess brushed one hand against her belt pouch, a movement now made unconscious by its frequency. The feel of the river-stone pressing against the supple leather reminded her that Malravenar had indeed been broken and bound. “From everything I’ve read, it will take all three Queens to open the Gate.”

  “There were only two Queens before,” pointed out Liam. “Why can’t it just be two Queens now?”

  “I don’t know all the answers, and I may be translating wrong anyway,” Tess replied edgily, “but from what the books are saying, the words mean something like ‘all those crowned.’” She shook her head. “There’s no incentive for Mab to open the Gate. It will require a good amount of her power, and from what I’ve heard, she’s already got her hands full with the reconstruction and her sister.”

  “What exactly have you heard?” Liam asked quietly. Tess looked at her brother and saw that his eyes had gone chillingly distant, an echo of Arcana’s inhuman stare.

  “Finnead has been over to the Unseelie camp,” Tess replied, vaguely proud of the steadiness of her voice. “Maeve and a few other of our healers have made the journey as well, but they haven’t been able to heal the princess.” She took a moment to watch Sage again. “And I’m sorry about the fact that it seems like they won’t be able to bring her back.” She paused, wondering how many of the supposed ‘rumors’ her brother had heard. “And I’ve been told that Mab is getting a bit paranoid,” she added softly. “She thinks that there are plots against her, apparently. But it still doesn’t sit well with me that Mab will most likely refuse to help in opening the Gate.”

  “First things first,” said Liam. “Have you spoken to Vell or Titania?”

  “No.
They’ve been…busy.” Tess shifted.

  “You know that the Queens are never too busy to spare a moment for the Bearer,” Liam said.

  “Not only do you move like one of them, you sound like one of them too,” she muttered.

  He smiled. “I’m one of Vell’s Three. I have an inside channel, I guess you could say.”

  Tess waved her hands. “Don’t want to know about it. Keep the details to yourself.”

  Liam’s smile widened into a grin. “Oh, because you’ve heard that Vell and I…”

  “Details to yourself!” Tess repeated in a heated whisper, lowering her voice quickly as Sage shifted restlessly on his pallet.

  Liam sobered as he glanced at Sage. They sat silently for a moment until he settled. Tess reached out and brushed an errant lock of hair away from Sage’s eyes.

  “Maybe you need to redirect your research,” Liam offered quietly.

  “What do you mean? We need to know how to open the Gate.”

  “Mab and Titania created at least part of the Gate before, didn’t they? They created the Seal, at the very least. So I’d leave that part to them.” Liam paused. “Maybe you need to find something that would make Mab more…agreeable.”

  Tess snorted. “I doubt that exists.” When Liam didn’t smile, she narrowed her eyes. “You’re serious. Did you See something?”

  Liam shook his head. “No. This isn’t part of Seeing or being one of Vell’s Three. It’s part of knowing people. Part of what I had to know to do my job well.”

  Tess shifted the scabbard of the Sword again until it rested against the latest patch of skin threatening to drive her crazy with the urge to scratch at it. She grimaced slightly. “So I have to find a bargaining chip powerful enough to lever Mab into cooperating with one of her least favorite people.”

  “I don’t think she dislikes Titania that much,” said Liam wryly.

  Tess chuckled. “I didn’t mean Titania and you know it.”

  “I can’t let your head inflate too much with your own importance,” he replied. “I’ve heard the word legendary being used in reference to you.”

  “Are you sure that isn’t just hurting your ego?” Tess grinned.

  “My ego is in no danger of being hurt, let me assure you,” said Liam with a Cheshire Cat worthy grin. Tess smacked his arm lightly.

  “I told you I don’t want to hear about you and Vell. And if one of the two of you wants to talk about it, I’d rather it be Vell.”

  “As you wish, Lady Bearer,” he replied with an affectionately mocking bow. “Just remember that I’ll always be your big brother.”

  Tess pushed down the sudden memory of Liam lying on floor of the throne room in the Dark Keep, a dagger in his side and his lips blue as he gasped for breath. She smiled and stood with her brother, giving him a hug as he said something about a summons from Vell. She sat back down as she watched him glide silently away, her brow creased in thought. Picking up her book, she thumbed it open to the marked page. Finding something to barter for Mab’s cooperation seemed like a task more impossible than crossing the gorge over the Darinwel without a bridge, but if it brought her closer to opening the Gate and finding Luca, she’d apply every waking moment to it. “I have a feeling I’m going to need more books,” she murmured to herself, settling down for a few hours of reading.

  Chapter 6

  Ross took another deep breath as she guided her truck down the main road through Cairn in the deepening twilight. The sun didn’t set until nearly eight o’clock, the daylight hours lengthening as the humidity and heat increased their summer grip. She’d held it together through the interview, but the moment that she’d shut the door of her truck and thumbed open the GPS application on her phone, her hands had started shaking. She refused to let her mind dig too deep into the phone call. She’d checked the location of the Exxon in Cairn and navigated her way across the traffic clogged bridge over Lake Pontchartrain. Nearly an hour to think about the sound of his voice, the way his words had shot like an arrow into her heart as though she had no defenses at all. She flexed her grip on the steering wheel. That hour had been whittled down to maybe five minutes. Five minutes and she’d either rain down righteous fury on some jerk who thought this was a good practical joke…or she’d be staring into the eyes of the man that she’d thought she was going to marry. That was before he was killed on his last deployment, with only unidentifiable ashes remaining, leaving her with just photographs, memories, and a crisply folded flag.

  The smooth, calm voice of the GPS prompted her to turn right onto a side road that could barely be called paved. She tapped the brakes lightly to avoid raising a cyclone of dust around the truck. The gas station rose out of the long grasses about half a mile down the road. She swore softly and pressed her lips together at the rapid hammering of her heart. It felt like the night before boot camp, or maybe the night that Noah had picked her up for their first date. Maybe even the moments before their transport had touched down on the airstrip first deployment.

  “Get it together,” she admonished herself in a low voice, coasting the last of the distance toward the gas station, tires crunching on the gravelly road as she turned the truck into the little parking lot.

  The gas station clerk glanced up as the black pickup truck parked in the far corner of the lot in front of the station. At first look, he would have guessed the age of the woman in the driver’s seat to be barely eighteen; she stared at the steering wheel and seemed to be trying to gather her nerve. But then her face changed, hardened, and he was suddenly unsure of his earlier guess. She looked like a person who had seen and done things far beyond her years.

  The woman wore a simple black t-shirt, but even so, the clerk could see the outline of the muscles in her shoulders and arms. Again he revised his assessment. This was a woman who could snap most men in two, either with the sharpness of her gaze, the strength of her convictions, or the power of her body. She sat for another long moment in her truck, pulled her shoulders back and killed the engine, opening the door and sliding down onto the hot asphalt with practiced ease. She wore her black hair pulled back in a sleek braid, had clean and pressed gray cargo pants and black Converse shoes. He couldn’t tell the color of her eyes from this distance, but he thought that maybe they were gray or green. It would fit with the exotic look of her face.

  Ross felt the eyes of the clerk inside the store evaluating her. The distance and the pane of glass between them didn’t dull her perception of his curiosity. He watched her like he was waiting for something to happen, like something had already happened and he was waiting for the logical conclusion. Her chest ached as her heart tried to batter its way through her ribs. She scanned the area around the parking lot. There was a stand of a few trees about a hundred yards down the road, and a one-story house that was most likely a converted doublewide trailer barely visible on the horizon beyond the stand of trees. A slight breeze stirred the thick air and brought with it the scent of the swampy river. She resisted the urge to shove her hands into her pockets or cross her arms. Then she saw him, and for a moment she forgot to breathe.

  Duke walked out of the shadow beside the farthest gas pump with his heart trying to climb out of his throat. God, either she’d gotten more beautiful or he’d just forgotten the stomach punching ferocity of her: the compact contours of her body and that sweet face aligned into such determined lines, the flash of her eyes, and the tightening of her shoulders as she struggled with the simple task of standing still. Constant movement, that was a part of his memories of her, a whirlwind of soft skin and hard muscle, delightful tenderness and iron will. He knew it the moment that she caught sight of him. Her whole body jerked as if she’d just absorbed a hit, and her eyes widened. He forced himself to keep his strides even, though a good part of his mind wanted to break into a sprint and cover the distance between them as fast as his legs would carry him.

  Ross didn’t move. She watched him walk toward her with wide eyes, her shoulders rising and falling with huge breaths. He cou
ldn’t tell if she was excited, or angry – hell, he couldn’t tell what he was feeling at the moment, so he closed the last few feet with two strides and stopped an arm’s length away from her, giving her enough space to choose her next move and interact with him on her own terms.

  Her dark eyes traveled over him once, then twice, her chest heaved, and then she threw herself at him. He barely had the time to brace himself before she was in his arms, head against his shoulder, hugging him so hard he thought that maybe she’d break one of his ribs, and he’d gladly accept it if it was the price he had to pay to feel her body pressed against his again. He felt her heart hammering against her breastbone as though she’d just finished a hard run. The pulse pounding in his own ears was no calmer. He could barely breathe, both from her grip and from the emotions raging inside of him, though he’d never willingly admit it. Except maybe to her. Except maybe to the woman in his arms.

  Ross drew back and kissed him hard, her mouth hot on his, her hands sliding up to either side of his face. The feel of the callouses on her palms sliding across his skin drew an incoherent sound of want from deep within him. If she kissed him any longer, he’d throw her over his shoulder and carry her back to her truck. His mind short-circuited, emptying of all rational thought, then suddenly she ended the kiss and his arms were empty. He barely had time to open his eyes before she slapped him.

  The grizzled clerk winced as he spit into his Styrofoam cup. Maybe not such a happy reunion after all. He’d thought for a moment that he’d have to fetch the water hose to spray the two of them down. It was the most exciting afternoon he’d had all week. Heck, maybe even all month at this rate.

  Duke took a deep breath, the hot sting of the slap still burning across his cheek. “Okay, I deserved that.” His voice came out a little hoarse. Ross balled her hands into fists, her glare as hot as the asphalt beneath their feet. He took half a step back. “But I don’t think I deserve a punch.”

  “Start talking,” Ross said without relaxing.

  Duke glanced over at the gas station and saw the clerk hastily lower his head over his magazine again. “Can we…I mean, this is kind of a very public place…”