by M. J. Scott
Glaring at me while her chest heaved.
Mine heaved too but right now that didn’t matter.
What mattered was getting my hands on her again. Though I was willing to wait until she wasn’t looking quite so murderous before I attempted it.
Gray eyes narrowed at me, looking like she wanted to kill me.
She looked beautiful.
Beautiful and deadly. I remembered suddenly that she was very well armed. And my gun was across the room locked in a drawer. Still, she could have stabbed me during the kiss and she hadn’t.
“I hope you’re not waiting for me to say sorry,” I said. “Because I’m not.”
“No. You’re just crazy.” She planted her hands on her hips, balled them into fists. Which at least was better than reaching for her stilettos.
“Not crazy, realistic. I told you there was another reason.”
“You want to risk everything for simple lust?”
“Whatever that was, it wasn’t simple, shadow,” I shot back. “And I doubt it was entirely lust either.”
“You are crazy,” she said flatly.
“We could be crazy together.” I risked a half smile.
Her glare intensified. “No. We will not be doing that again.”
“Ah. Well, maybe I’ll be able to change your mind about that.”
“You want me to be your pet.”
“No.” I was serious now. “No, I want you to be yourself. I want you to see the woman I felt in my arms when you look in the mirror. Someone beautiful. Someone worthy. Someone free. Someone who belongs to herself. Someone who chooses for herself.”
The anger faded from her eyes a little. And if I’d had to name the emotion that replaced it, I would have to choose fear. The same fear any caged thing might face when presented with a chance of freedom.
“How do you know what I see in the mirror?”
“Just a wild guess.”
The anger returned. Not unexpected. She was returning to what she knew. To her walls and ice.
“You know nothing,” she said.
“Then let me find out. Let me in, Lily. I can help you.”
She actually took a step backward. “No.”
“Would you rather stay in your cage, then?”
“No!”
I was pushing too hard. I could see it written on her face. She wanted to run. Her skin practically quivered with the need to flee. But I couldn’t help it. I wanted her to see. “Then what do you want?”
She bit her lip, hard enough I wondered that she didn’t draw blood. “I want to be left alone. I want to be free. Of everyone.”
Including me and that oh so inconvenient lust she felt. That was perfectly clear from her tone.
I spread his hands wide. “Letting someone help you isn’t an obligation. Nor is helping them.”
She shook her head. “Everything is an obligation.”
Time to withdraw. It seemed I was making things worse at this point. I let my hands fall, pretended to smooth my shirtsleeves. “I want you to think about it. What I asked. Regardless of anything that followed. If you help us, you can be free. You don’t owe me anything.”
“What?” she said scornfully. “You expect me to believe you don’t want to bed me?”
I looked straight at her. No pretending. “Oh no, I want that. I think that’s clear enough. But I don’t expect you to. I won’t force you to. I’ll still be on your side if you don’t.”
“Why?”
And we’d come full circle. “I don’t think you’d understand if I told you. But hopefully you will one day. Now I think I should let you be alone for a time. You have things to think about. You don’t have to decide straightaway. I’ll go talk to Bryony.”
She didn’t respond. Hopefully she was thinking about what I’d said. What I’d asked. What I’d done. Regardless, it was time to leave, as much as I wanted to stay and soothe her until she wasn’t so afraid.
But she was the only one who could set herself free. She had to choose. I schooled my face to casual and crossed the room, paused by the door. “Oh, and, Lily?”
“Yes?” Her eyes met mine and the confusion in their depths was hard to see. Being cruel to be kind wasn’t exactly my style. But I didn’t know what else to do.
“One more thing I know,” I said in my best know-it-all-just-like-a-Templar tone.
“What?”
“If you run, you’ll never be truly free.”
Empty, Simon’s office was a calm oasis. The plants and sunshine looked peaceful. Were peaceful. Unlike me. I leaned my head against the bookshelf and sucked in the cool green scented air, willing it to calm the turmoil in my head and body.
But I’d only taken a few breaths before the door swung open again, startling me. Bryony appeared in the doorway. I wondered how she’d avoided Simon. Hidden herself with a glamour, I imagined.
She stalked toward me. The Fae generally glide, not stalk. I felt a petty surge of satisfaction. Here was someone perfectly suited to exercising my temper on. I would be happy to fight if she tried her grand Fae attitude on me again. Fighting was easier by far than thinking about everything that had just passed between Simon and me.
Better yet, if I made her angry enough she might leave me alone again.
“You’re still here,” she said without any preamble.
“Did you think I’d leave?”
“No,” she said. “I thought you’d do whatever suited you, no matter the price to others.”
“I don’t see why it’s any concern of yours what I do.”
Bryony’s blue eyes turned thunderous blue like the depths of a cloud brewing lightning. “You—”
“Yes, I know,” I said impatiently. “I’m shadow kin.” Her lips thinned at the interruption. Good. She was mad. I made myself smile at her and perched on the edge of the desk, letting my legs swing.
She already thought I was worse than garbage. I doubted there was anything I could do to change that despite Simon’s urgings. So I might as well be myself. “In’sai’hal a’tan. Soulless. Abomination, whatever you wish to call me,” I continued. “You despise me. I’m perfectly clear on that. The feeling is somewhat mutual. But I’m not leaving.” Maybe everyone else here thought the sun shone out of her oh so perfect arse, but I’d grown up with a lot scarier things than a Fae healer.
“Every patient in this hospital is at risk while you’re here.”
She meant the Beasts. I chose to misunderstand her, in no mood to make anything easier for the Fae. The Fae who prided themselves on being so controlled and calm. So powerful. The Fae that Simon wanted me to convince to intervene for the better of the City.
As far as I could tell, the Fae should do it because it was the right thing to do. They could curb Lucius. The Veiled Queen could turn him to ash on the spot if she willed it. The fact that they chose to remain aloof—using the treaty as an excuse to avoid acting—only demonstrated how little they cared for anyone other than their own kind. “You think I’m going to hurt people? What exactly do you think I can do right now surrounded by sunlight?”
Sunlight. Simon. My feeling of having regained control slipped as suddenly as if the desk had collapsed beneath me. My mouth still burned where he’d kissed me. I could taste him. Feel him. Feel the fires he’d left behind, glowing and rich like liquid sunlight flowing through my veins.
As dangerous as sunlight to me.
And definitely something I didn’t want Bryony knowing about. Simon had said he’d felt me wanting him when he’d healed me. I was taking no such risk that Bryony could somehow sense it too. She already seemed to hate me without knowing one of her precious healers wanted to—
Help me.
That’s what he’d said. Yes, he’d also said he wanted to bed me, but that seemed the least of what he wanted. He wanted me to trust him. Trust him with my life.
Wanted me to help bring down Lucius.
Wanted to use me as a weapon, just as Lucius did.
He’d offered me Haven, told
me he could change my life. And even though I’ve always known that everyone has their own agenda, finding out that Simon did too left a bitter taste in my mouth.
He asked too much.
More than I could give.
Bryony didn’t answer my question.
“Well? What do you think will happen?” I repeated.
“I think Lucius will want you back. I think we’ll pay the price of that desire.”
Her tone cracked like the lightning in her eyes. Good. Her anger roused mine again. Giving me back my focus. “I didn’t ask to be taken from my world. Simon and Guy did that. Don’t blame me.”
She pointed at the door. “Go, then. Go back where you belong.”
“Like a good pet should? Return to my master? To the one your people sold me to like a dog?”
“You stayed with him before now. What’s changed?”
That one hit home. I sank down into the chair. A plant brushed my cheek and I pushed it away gently. What had changed?
Nothing.
Everything.
Nothing I wanted to explain to Bryony, even if I could.
But it was different now. Lucius had crossed a line when he’d fed from me.
And Simon had just drawn another line. Asking me to choose a side. To take a stand.
Did I want to cross it? Did I dare? Both of them wanted to use me. But for the first time I had a choice. I could choose a side. Or I could run. My head ached, thinking about it.
“Tchah.” Bryony’s delicate nose wrinkled. “You can’t even answer. Yet you bring danger to my hospital, to my people. Why should I trust you?”
“Your people?” I said. “I wasn’t aware St. Giles was under Fae control. Is that what worries you about me? That I might upset your pets?”
She recoiled from me as I’d drawn a gun. The chain round her neck jangled, its rainbow sheen dulling. “My—”
“It makes sense,” I said, taking far too much satisfaction in the discomfort in her face. I’d never had an actual conversation with a Fae before. Apparently I had some things to say. “That you see them that way, I mean. After all, that’s how the Fae deal with things. Assume they’re in charge. Sell their problems off to be dealt with by others. That takes a certain superior point of view.”
“Would you rather have been strangled at birth?”
“I’d rather have been treated as a person. Then again, given that would have meant growing up amongst your kind, perhaps I got off lightly. At least I do not see myself as superior.”
“You see nothing,” Bryony said. “You kill people.”
“Are you telling me the Fae have never killed anyone? What about all those wars?”
“You are not a soldier.”
I shrugged at her. “That depends on how you define war, I suppose.”
Her lips thinned and she shook her head. The sun made her dark hair gleam, crowning her with light. But she was Fae and they were creatures of illusions and darkness as much as beauty and light. She was no better than me.
She pointed at me with the hand that bore the heavy Family ring. It gleamed too, heavy with blue and purple gems. I didn’t know which Family they represented and didn’t particularly care.
“Then you’re worse, a soldier who would switch sides. A traitor. Untrustworthy.”
“You can’t have it both ways. I can’t be terrible for working for Lucius and terrible for not wanting to work for Lucius.”
The accusing finger jabbed at the air again. “For all we know, you’re still working for him. This could all be a ploy.”
“A ploy to do what? What is that you all suspect Lucius is up to?”
She shook her head. “We don’t know.” She pursed her lips, considering me. “Perhaps you do. Perhaps I should find out?”
My hand strayed down toward my dagger. “Oh yes? How exactly? Your enchantments don’t work on me. Were you planning to torture me?”
Her silence was telling.
I suddenly felt vaguely sickened. Simon kept making me believe that maybe the world was different from how I thought it was. Bryony was disproving his optimism quite neatly. I hadn’t expected that such a thing would upset me. “You know, I suddenly find the idea of the Brother House quite attractive. Guy gave me his word. I think I can rely on the word of a Templar at least. Unlike the Fae.”
“The Fae do not lie!”
“The Fae don’t do a lot of things.” I turned. “The humans are willing to give me a choice. For the first time ever. Which I think probably makes them better than either you or me.” I closed my eyes, picturing Simon for a moment. Something clean in all this mess. “So don’t worry. Once Simon returns I’ll be gone from your precious hospital. Maybe the Templars might loan me a dictionary. It turns out, Haven doesn’t exactly mean what I thought it did.”
Chapter Eleven
A sunmage to one side of me and a Templar to the other. If you’d asked me a few days earlier what my worst nightmare might be, I would have described something exactly like this. Not to mention the fact that we were in a tunnel heading to the Brother House and a second armed-to-the-teeth Templar walked behind me.
Add in the fact that they wanted me to help them bring down Lucius and it should truly have felt like a nightmare.
Right now, though, despite the fact that I’d refused to betray him to Simon, my worst nightmare would have fangs, iron and ruby rings, and a precarious grip on reality. It was the fear Lucius invoked that had driven my refusal. I had told Simon the truth. Betraying Lucius would be suicide. He would get his revenge. There was no way they could protect me unless I agreed to spend the rest of my life in the Templar Brother House.
Which I wasn’t about to do. Even now, when I’d chosen to come here, I was apprehensive about exactly what waited for me.
I wanted to trust Simon. The fact that he’d been honest about what he wanted from me, even if what he wanted was to use me, was both infuriating and oddly reassuring. I was still angry with him, but somehow, the presence of Simon and Guy at each side and Liam bringing up the rear, I found almost . . . comforting.
Which might just be the strangest thought I’d ever had.
Our route through the tunnels wasn’t exactly the same as the one Simon and I had taken earlier, but we still passed by the tunnel branch that smelled of iron.
As we came closer I watched both Simon and Guy closely. Neither of them so much as turned their heads in the direction of the entrance to the tunnel. But it was Simon who ignored it so studiously he might as well have held up a “Don’t look over there” sign.
I made sure I didn’t look either. Instead I sniffed softly, tasting the air, wondering what was down there. I couldn’t smell anything but iron and the same strange deadened air we were breathing. Which only spoke more strongly of there being something heavily warded at the other end.
“Do the tunnels go all the way to the Brother House?” I asked Guy. I wasn’t talking to Simon. Talking might lead to something foolish like wanting to kiss him again. Or punch him.
One of the two.
The need prowled restlessly as he walked beside me and I was trying not to pay any more attention to him than was strictly necessary.
“Yes. It’s useful for us to have a quick way to the hospital sometimes,” Guy said. He didn’t say any more, but I could only think of one reason for Templars to need access to St. Giles. To carry their wounded here for treatment. Treatment for injuries inflicted by the Night World. I hid my wince and Guy pretended not to notice. He moved as lightly as his brother, despite the half ton of chain mail he wore. I hoped I’d never have to fight him. Not in daylight anyway.
I was walking lightly myself. Nothing hurt, though I was beginning to feel as if I might fall down if I didn’t sleep soon. I had eaten and, thanks to Harriet and Simon, the wounds inflicted by the Beasts and Lucius had gone. The visible ones at least.
The other wounds were beyond help. With each step, the need clawed at me, fired by Simon’s kiss. It seemed any pleasure sparked its hun
ger for more. And I wasn’t so sure I could fight it into submission again. My whole body wanted. There was a constant whisper of Lucius’ name in my head. A treacherous voice telling me how easy it would be to leave in darkness. To go back. To get what I needed.
I was doing my best to shut it out, calling on years of practice. I was stronger than it. I had to be.
If I could last a few days until I could come up with a plan, then I . . . didn’t know what exactly. There was no cure for the need.
The humans wanted me to help them, to choose their side—a chance at something new—but that choice, even if I were willing to make it, didn’t offer a solution to my problem.
Don’t think about it. “Isn’t it dangerous?”
Guy looked down at me. “The tunnels?”
“Yes. The Blood could move through them in daylight.”
“The entrances are well guarded. And the tunnels themselves are not without defenses.” His tone made it clear he wasn’t going to explain what those might be.
I didn’t blame him. Not giving away secrets is a good survival strategy. But it stymied my attempt at conversation. It wasn’t as if the tunnels had any features of interest to remark on. Just yard after yard of marble tiles and walls that were either wood-paneled or painted in a bland pale green with very little to distinguish one branch from another. Here and there wards glimmered over the walls, but it wasn’t as if wards were unexpected in such a place.
It would be very easy to get lost down here if you had a poor sense of direction. But I had no doubt I could retrace my steps if I needed to. Knowing which direction I traveled, being able to orient myself to the earth, was a gift from my Fae mother.
It had come in handy over the years.
The tunnel took another right turn and we were suddenly faced with a massive metal gate. It didn’t smell of iron. Probably bronze fortified by a metalmage, though it was painted black.
The Brother House lay behind those bleak black bars.
Ready to cage me.
The Brother House itself was much as I had expected. Sparsely decorated, its gray granite walls spoke of discipline and strength. The floors were stone too, worn smooth by the many feet that had walked the corridors over the centuries. The Templar Order was a very old one. The thought of exactly how many holy warriors had lived here—how many might live here now—gave me an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
