The Poisoned Veil (Accessory to Magic Book 4)

by Kathrin Hutson

  “Tabitha had it easy.” Leandras’ smile was tinged with relief and surprise now, but he still didn’t look any less concerned. “She could see the possibilities. She didn’t question...”

  Raising her eyebrows, Jessica looked back and forth between his outstretched hand and his eager silver eyes. “Feel free to finish that thought.”

  “The scryer didn’t question who she was or what she thought she knew about herself. As surprising as it is, Jessica, I find myself doing just that.”

  “I mean, it’s called a mid-life crisis for a reason.”

  “Not after death.” He wiggled his fingers at her and chuckled. “When all this is over, I may be better equipped to explain what sounds like nonsense to you now. So let’s finish it and be on our way.”

  With a playful frown, she took the fae man’s hand and let him help her to her feet. “I kinda like this self-doubting version of you.”

  “Why? Because it makes you right?” He released her hand and headed back down the row of booths, studying her and smiling like he’d just won some kind of prize.

  “An hour ago, I probably would’ve said that was it, yeah.” Jessica looked him up and down and couldn’t stop herself from adding, “But this is more like...the real you.”

  He took a sharp breath and stopped to face her with a grin. “Then maybe this is the best time to tell you that I—”

  “Leandras.” The sharp bark of a voice didn’t belong to Brokar, but it sounded almost exactly the same.

  Blinking quickly, the fae man turned and straightened before stepping slightly in front of Jessica without blocking her completely. “Mitra.”

  Of all the magicals she’d fought, lied to, stolen from, or spent any amount of time with, Jessica found herself for the very first time in the midst of two fae standing in the same room together at the same time. And she’d never realized how odd that was until now.

  The other fae man emerging from behind a door on the other side of the circular bar wore a faded-maroon housecoat—or maybe some kind of ceremonial robe, if that was the thing in this world—his long white hair trailing over both shoulders and stopping at the middle of his chest. He spread his arms and leaned forward with a chuckle. “Leaving so soon?”

  Behind him, Brokar sneered and held the door open, as if he expected everyone to file willingly back into it for one giant party on the other side.

  Leandras plastered on his wickedly gleaming grin. Until a minute ago, Jessica hadn’t been able to tell the difference between that carefree expression and a genuine smile from the fae man.

  Now she knew it was fake.

  “I would never have left without sending word,” he called back loud enough for the half-dozen other patrons in the bar to hear. None of them looked up at either fae.

  “You didn’t come here to send word.” Mitra slapped a hand down on the bar and tossed his head back in amusement. His long, shimmering white hair slithered back over his shoulder. “If it’s time, then it’s time.”

  He nodded at the open door beside Brokar, and Leandras dipped his head.

  “Agreed.”

  With a smug satisfaction curling his lips, the much taller fae turned toward the open door, his gaze lingering a little longer on Jessica than she would have liked, and stepped back through.

  No amount of smiling, nodding, and friendly banter could mask the suffocatingly thick tension now filling the bar. All of it was fake.

  Jessica didn’t even have to ask what was happening to know this Mitra character couldn’t have possibly picked a worse time to summon the Laen’aroth into his back room.

  Leandras didn’t have to say a thing to get that point across after his smile vanished the second Mitra disappeared. But he leaned toward Jessica anyway and, in a voice so soft she hardly heard it, muttered, “This won’t go well. Be ready to run.”

  Chapter 30

  Be ready to run?

  Jessica bit down on her lower lip and held back the smartass retort about this being a never-ending string of one screw-up after another with Leandras.

  How many enemies could one fae have?

  A few centuries’ worth, apparently.

  Leandras brushed his hand against hers before taking off toward the door. Jessica followed close behind, casting a quick glance at the Umbál and the crimson-eyed cruorcian mage sitting together at the bar—except the cruorcian had an extra pair of arms sprouting from her shoulders and only three fingers on each of those extra hands.

  She forced herself not to stare, even when none of the other patrons looked up at her.

  Brokar, though, chuckled and graced her with another leering grin. “More business to discuss, eh?”

  “Are you coming with?” She had no idea what kind of stupidity convinced her it was a good idea to mouth off at the giant orc playing gatekeeper, but it definitely could have been the way he’d been staring at her since he noticed her sitting in a booth with the Laen’aroth.

  The orc’s smile disappeared, and he stepped in front of the doorway as Jessica followed both fae inside before slamming the door behind her.

  She spun around at the sharp bang and the gust of air from nearly being clipped by Brokar’s little fit, but at least he hadn’t joined them.

  And that was probably why she’d just gotten away with talking to him like that.

  However on-edge Leandras’ last comment had made her, she had to keep her mouth shut for this one.

  Because now the new fae Mitra was giving her the same look as the orc. His just reeked with a false sense of confidence.

  “The Guardian, I presume?”

  Leandras gestured toward her with a flourish. “In the flesh.”

  Grinning fiercely now, Mitra ran his tongue across the edge of his upper teeth and eyed Jessica over. “I expected you to send word before your arrival.”

  “As did I,” Leandras said before Jessica could clarify who the hell the white-haired fae was actually talking to. “Unexpected circumstances. You understand.”

  “Such as?” Mitra turned away from them and walked slowly across the gleaming floor made not of metal like everything else but of a finely polished white marble. He clasped his hands behind his back, his head dipped as if in thought.

  Jessica took in what looked like a receiving room, only instead of chairs and couches and tables, the place was lined with marble basins rising four feet high on thick pedestals.

  If they were standing in a secret fae bathhouse behind a bar, she was out of here.

  “A misunderstanding between acquaintances.” Leandras gently brushed his arm against Jessica’s as he followed Mitra down the row between the basins.

  That had to be a sign for her to stay close, but even if it wasn’t, she had no intention of letting two fae walk off without her. She did, however, sneak a glance into the closest basin to find a pool of liquid inside, glowing with a much more muted version of the bright-green sludge she’d seen in the ground when they’d first arrived.

  No way could that be a good thing.

  Mitra stopped where the rows of basins ended and another hallway crossed perpendicularly behind him. “Acquaintances of mine?”

  “Doubtful.” Leandras gestured toward the pools. “Otherwise, I imagine you would have already seen it.”

  “Indeed.” The white-haired fae bit his bottom lip and stared at Jessica. “I did not see her, either.”

  “She surprised me as well.” Leandras stopped five feet away from the other fae, who had to lean sideways to keep his gaze firmly fixed on the vestrohím standing his weird hall.

  “Well, it does help to keep things exciting.” He returned his gaze to Leandras, and Jessica approached the fae she kind of knew just in time to see the fae she didn’t know at all untying the belt of his robe-housecoat-thing. “I realize your purpose here, Vem-da’án, and why you’ve come. So tell me now. Am I deluding myself by hoping you have time to spare for a little entertainment?”

  Whoa, now.

  Jessica glanced sideways at Leandras to se
e that damn smirk playing on his lips, but he didn’t break away from Mitra’s gaze.

  There were a lot of ways the other fae’s question could have been interpreted, most of them way beyond the realm of what Jessica thought was possible. Until she realized Mitra was disrobing right there in front of them.

  He tossed the housecoat onto the floor, revealing a muscular chest and abdomen that was pretty much the norm in Jessica’s limited experience with fae. The massive scar in the shape of a spiral centered directly below his breastbone, though, was definitely new.

  Thankfully, he’d decided to leave his loose-fitting pants on for the sake of decorum. Probably.

  “I wish there were time,” Leandras replied, slowly tilting his head. He didn’t sound the least bit bothered by another fae man undressing in front of both of them, and Jessica wished she could be a fly on the wall in that moment. Because he actually sounded amused. “But you know how this works.”

  “It can’t hurt to try.” Chuckling, Mitra studied Jessica again and blinked slowly. Almost like he was trying to lure her into something, and that didn’t even make sense. “Will she be assisting you?”

  “Not at all.” Leandras rolled both sleeves of his illusioned tunic up his forearms and stepped toward the other fae. “You don’t mind if she watches, do you?”

  “One of us might as well enjoy ourselves.”

  Jessica stepped forward, stopped, ran a hand through her hair, and finally folded her arms. She had no idea what to do with them that didn’t make her look either uncomfortable or creepily interested. Generally, when someone said, ‘Be ready to run,’ it meant they were stepping over the line between civility and extreme violence that had to be avoided at all costs. Not...whatever the hell this was.

  And it just got weirder when Leandras set a hand on Mitra’s shoulder and turned to fix Jessica with the same weirdly excited smile. “Stand beside me, Jessica. It’s a much better view.”

  “Jessica.” Mitra’s grin widened, and he raised his eyebrows at her. “I’d accept the invitation. This isn’t something one sees every century.”

  “Um...” She pressed her lips together and jerkily shook her head. “I think I’m good.”

  When Leandras’ eyes widened slightly in warning, she did as he said anyway. This whole thing could have been a ruse to get whatever Leandras wanted from the other fae. Or to get them out of what she’d expected to be a trap, maybe with a few threats tossed around. But now she had absolutely no idea what to expect other than a shout to run after two fae men were finished with whatever this was supposed to be.

  “Good girl,” Mitra crooned, and she almost punched him for it. “Perhaps we’ll get to know each other a little better once the Roth’akán has his—”

  Leandras’ free hand lit up with a blaze of crimson light as he yanked Mitra toward him by the shoulder. Then he plunged his glowing hand inside the other fae—right through the swirling scar on the magical’s chest.

  Mitra roared in agony, his eyes bulging as he leaned into Leandras and didn’t even try to pull away.

  “What the fuck?” Jessica shouted.

  Blazing rays of red light burst from Leandras’ hand she could no longer see and ripped through the other fae’s back like skewers through a hunk of meat. Which technically this was, but that didn’t make it any more palatable.

  “Leandras!”

  He was too focused on his morbid rooting around through someone else’s guts to pay her any attention. Even while he grimaced and seemed to hold Mitra up by the shoulder, he tilted his head to fix his gaze firmly on the other fae man gaping in surprise and agony. The red lights flared brighter, and Jessica didn’t know if she was about to step in to stop the single most fucked-up spell she’d ever seen or if she’d rather turn around and puke.

  But his warning still knocked around in her head.

  Be ready to run.

  She had to let him finish this, then, right?

  Mitra jerked away from Leandras’ hand to no avail, and another wild bellow of agony broke free to echo endlessly in the weird receiving room.

  “Shit.” Jessica spun around to check the door at the end of the hall. Anyone else on the other side of it had to have heard the fae’s screams by now. “Leandras.”

  He hissed but didn’t look away from his victim—either that or he couldn’t. The blazing red light darkened into blood-red, reaching up his forearm still buried in Mitra’s chest. The other fae let out a choking gasp, and now the red light flickered up his throat to illuminate the inside of his mouth and the backs of his teeth as spittle flew from his lips.

  The door into the bar jerked open, and Brokar barreled into the marble hall before stopping short in bewilderment. It took the orc all of two seconds to size up the situation, and a flare of green fire blazed in his hand as he snarled and prepared to attack.

  “Time to go!” Jessica darted toward the struggling fae men just as Leandras jerked his hand from Mitra’s gut.

  The other fae roared again and dropped to the floor, his bare torso squeaking across the marble.

  Jessica caught a glimpse of Mitra’s chest and had just enough time to notice the complete lack of blood and guts—not to mention a gaping hole—before Brokar launched his fireball down the hall toward them.

  She tossed a wave of crackling black light at his attack, and the flames turned instantly black before she caught them in her outstretched hand and sent them hurtling back.

  A silver light pulsed in Leandras’ hand as he grunted and stumbled away from Mitra lying in a crumpled heap. “Jessica.”

  “What the hell did you just—”

  “Run. Now.”

  “Yep.” She darted around the white-haired fae, spun to head down the branching hall on the left, and ducked another fiery attack from the orc. It crashed into the wall behind her. Her feet slipped way more than they should have on the marble floor, but she righted herself and kept moving. Only then did she realize she had no idea which direction she was actually supposed to go.

  “Where—”

  “Move!” Leandras staggered after her, his silver eyes glowing fiercely as he clearly tried to gather himself back together after such a gruesome display.

  “Leandras!” Mitra howled. “If you leave this hall, you’ll never—”

  A spear of silver light from Leandras’ hand cracked into the marble a foot from Mitra’s head.

  “Leandras!”

  “Go!” he shouted, waving Jessica forward down the hall. “I’m coming. Just don’t stop!”

  “Well I’m staring at a dead end!” She spun around to face him. “You didn’t think this through, did you?”

  With wide eyes, he raced toward her and grabbed her wrist before hauling her along behind him again.

  More silver light flared around them, flickered, then sputtered out.

  “Leandras, there’s nowhere left to—”

  “Let me handle it,” he growled just before the world lurched around Jessica and she felt herself being torn to pieces by the instant nothingness of teleporting.

  Only there was something else there with her this time—a searing agony through the back of her right thigh that hadn’t been there during her wildly confused race down the hall. She probably would have screamed if her voice existed in this in-between space. Then her feet landed her back on solid ground.

  She did scream. It was a reflexive attempt, at least, before the effects of hopping around through space in any world did what it did on her stomach, and she heaved out a puddle of glowing blue hinwi. Her right leg buckled under the pain that hadn’t let up, and she heaved again.

  Leandras was right there beside her, pulling her hair away from her face, checking her over. “Where is it? I know he hit you. Tell me where.”

  With a groan, she wiped her mouth with the back of a hand and fell onto her left side, leaving her right leg extended fully behind her liked it was already in a brace. “I’m fine.”

  “I am so sorry.”

  She twisted around as far
as she could to study the back of her thigh. It sure as hell felt like a knife through her hamstring, but it wasn’t. Just a charred slice of fabric ripped through both her illusionary breeches and her jeans beneath, exposing a faint blue glow. “You’re not the one who attacked me.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He dropped to his knees and settled his hands over her searing leg. “I miscalculated. It could have gone a lot worse, but I’d intended it to be a much smoother affair.”

  “Affair.” Jessica tried to laugh, but the pain in her leg even beneath whatever healing spell he attempted there made it come out as a breathless grunt. “You stuck your hand through his fucking chest! That’s not an affair, that’s—”

  She bit back a scream when Leandras pressed both palms down onto her leg, but after that, the pain seemed to recede.

  Her hands slid forward along the grass, and she didn’t even try to resist her body’s descent toward the cool ground so she could just lie there for a moment in her belly and catch her breath.

  “And you don’t need to heal me,” she muttered. “In case you forgot.”

  With a heavy sigh, Leandras sat back and didn’t say a word for so long, she had to roll onto her side one more time just to make sure he hadn’t died again.

  Still weird to think of it like that.

  He was definitely still breathing, still sitting up, and he could obviously move when he ran a hand through his hair. “I have forgotten neither your abilities nor the extent of his.”

  She stared at his worn, haggard expression, then pushed herself up to sit in front of him. “He knows what I am.”

  “That’s highly unlikely, Jessica.” His eyes were closed, but he clenched them even tighter. “Though I imagine after the run-ins he’s had with a number of other vestrohím, he’s no longer willing to take the risk of asking before launching an assault.”

  “Look, I don’t like being hit by a magical blade any more than the next witch, but I do know the difference between assault and self-defense.”

  “Not self-defense.” Finally, he opened his eyes and looked up at her. “What you saw was completely consensual.”