by M. J. Scott
I paused for a moment, sucked in a breath. I was here to make sure Atherton was safe. I let my senses flick toward the wards protecting the rooms. They seemed whole, no indication anyone had breached them.
I relaxed, then swore as I remembered that wraiths don’t trigger wards.
Atherton was tending to the patients. He turned at my muttered curses. “Simon? What are you doing here?”
Before I could answer, his attention moved past me and he frowned. “Who’s with you?”
Suns. She was here. I didn’t turn. I didn’t know what I’d do if I saw her just now.
“It’s me, Atherton,” Lily said. She sounded calm. My gut twisted, doubts rising again. She shouldn’t be calm.
Atherton’s head snapped back to me. “The wraith is back?”
She came up beside me then and for a moment, I thought I saw something akin to hurt flash across her face. But she stayed silent, standing slim and straight. Her face was pale, only two spots of color burning in each cheek to show she wasn’t marble. She’d found a healer tunic somewhere and pulled it over her torn shirt. Her hair lay loose over the green cotton, fiery in the lamplight. I remembered the feel of it against my skin. Remember the taste of those lips that looked swollen from my kisses.
Don’t feel. Think.
“Yes,” I said. “And she has some bad news. Lucius can shadow.”
I’d never actually seen Atherton look completely taken aback before.
“Shadow? How?” He looked toward Lily. “Did—”
“He drank my blood,” Lily said. “Apparently there’s a reason that wraiths are feared.”
Abominations, that’s what the Fae called her kind. Maybe they were right after all. Gods and suns. Lucius with the powers of a wraith. But how? It had to be something to do with what she was, that her blood would do this to him. I swung back to Atherton. “Do you know how a wraith is made?”
Atherton shook his head. “No. I never found out. Lucius does and some of the older Blood might.”
“Fuck.”
“The Fae must know.”
The Fae who never lifted a hand to help unless forced to? Those Fae? Gods.
“We have to stop Lucius. If this is true, no one is safe,” Atherton continued.
Lily’s face grew fierce. “Stop him? We have to kill him.”
I cut her off. “No, we—”
“She’s right,” Atherton interrupted me in turn. It was unlike him. “Nothing else will stay his hand if he can shadow. Lucius is an infection in our race. One that should be cut out before it spreads.”
“He wants to rule the City. He told me as much,” Lily said.
“When?” I bit out.
She looked at me, not flinching. “When he fed from me.” Her eyes looked guileless, not a hint of guilt or lies. I wanted to believe her. But gods and fucking suns, Lucius had had his mouth on her skin and his hands on her body. Neither of which I could think about because I needed to stay in control.
“Maybe he was lying. Maybe he knew you’d come back.” If he hadn’t sent her himself. “Maybe he wants to provoke us into doing something foolish. Like breaking the treaty.”
Lily glared. “You’re already breaking the treaty.” She gestured around the room. “By doing this.”
“This is trying to help people. This is about saving lives.”
“We’ll save more lives by killing Lucius. At this point, does breaking the treaty even matter? If you don’t do anything, Lucius will break it for you. More than break it. He’ll make it as if there never was a treaty.”
“If you’re telling the truth.”
“Why would I lie? Why would I leave him if that’s where you think I want to be? There are plenty of other ways of provoking you humans into doing something foolish. You’re just angry that he fed from me.”
“Of course—” I broke off, biting down on the words. She was right, I was letting my feelings rule my head. I tried again. “If you’re telling the truth, then prove it. You said you’d try to find out about his informant. Did you?”
Her glare intensified. “I looked, yes.”
“Now you’re going to tell me you didn’t find anything? Another convenient story.”
She slid one hand down to her dagger. Spiked her temper, had I? Well and good.
“As it happens,” she said with edged precision, snapping each word off as if she’d like to bite me, “I did find something but I don’t know what it meant. Bryony might.”
That stopped me. She had found something? My anger subsided a little. Was I being cautious or just a complete bastard? “Bryony?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’ll go see Bryony,” I said. I wanted this over and done with.
Lily looked slightly confused. “I thought you came down here to check the wards.”
Gods. She was right. I fumbled in my trouser pocket, reached for the bundle of charms I carried there, fishing out the black metal circles Guy and I had worn at Halcyon. I pressed one of them into Atherton’s hand. “Wear this. If anything concerns you, touch it on both sides and I’ll know.”
“You think Lucius might come here,” Atherton said. His hands twined the cord of the charm nervously around his fingers.
“Yes. He might,” I said. “I’ll be back. Don’t worry.”
“He’s more likely to come for me,” Lily offered.
The thought didn’t improve my mood any. “Bryony,” I said shortly, and ushered her out of the room.
“Tell me,” Bryony said after Simon had marched us back to her office.
For once her voice wasn’t openly hostile. Though the words were closer to an order than a request. Across the room, Simon’s eyes were guarded as he watched me. It was as though he were two men. The one who’d loved me like we were dying in that dark room below and the one who didn’t like what he saw standing before him in the clear light of day. I gripped the back of the chair I stood next to, suddenly exhausted.
“Lucius had a letter in his office. Fae sealed. A woman’s handwriting. I also saw a woman in a carriage delivering another letter with the same seals to the mansion this afternoon,” I said. “She wore a veil but I thought she had light hair.” I watched Bryony rather than Simon. Light hair wasn’t very helpful. Half the Fae I’d met in the hospital were blond.
Her face clouded. “What color were the seals?” she asked.
“Green and gold.” I knew that the different ways various Fae Families worked their magic changed the colors observed by those who could see the traces of it. I didn’t know more than that. Hopefully Bryony would.
Her perfect black brows drew together. “That could be any number of Families,” she said. “What did the letter say?”
I rubbed my forehead, trying to remember. It seemed a long time ago. I pictured the letter, the elegant script. “Something about the work not bearing fruit and turmoils but that ‘his’ interests hadn’t changed.”
“That’s vague.”
“That’s hardly my fault,” I snapped.
“What else? A signature?”
I shook my head, leaning my weight a little harder against the chair as a sudden ache stung my belly. The need. I’d hoped that perhaps that stupid interlude with Simon—for it had been stupid when obviously it had done nothing to ease his doubts about me—would have sated it for a time. No such luck. The Lady had definitely turned her back on me.
“No. It was signed e’hai. That means faithful, doesn’t it?”
“Close enough. It has connotations of a sworn loyalty.” Bryony’s eyes were stormy and the chain around her next shimmered with a darkening sheen of purple. “Was that all?”
“There was a drawing. Some sort of leaf.”
Her gaze sharpened. “A leaf? Could you draw it?” She reached to one side and drew a piece of paper from a neat stack, nodded toward the inkpot and quill lying on her desk.
I took up the quill, tried to remember the leaf. Five rounded bumps, two each side and one topmost. My hand shook slightly as I tried
to trace it. Fatigue? Or the need? As if in answer, my stomach cramped, my fingers clenching with it. I bit down a gasp. Need, then. I gripped the quill tighter and finished the job, hoping Simon and Bryony hadn’t noticed.
“What does a leaf mean?” Simon asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Bryony said. “Maybe nothing.” She held out a hand as I put the quill down.
I passed her my drawing. “I’m no artist.”
Bryony frowned down at the image. Then she suddenly dropped it as though it were a snake. “Shal e’tan, mei,” she spat.
Even I knew that one. It meant something like fuck the Veil. Not the sort of thing I expected to hear from Bryony, though.
“What?” Simon asked. I shot him a glance. He looked confused rather than surprised. Either he didn’t know that particular curse or he’d heard it before.
“Ring the bell,” Bryony said.
“Is—”
“Ring the damned bell, Simon,” she snarled.
He did so. In a few moments, Harriet opened the door after two quick knocks.
Bryony’s furious expression didn’t improve at the sight of her. “Where’s Chrysanthe?” she demanded.
Harriet shrugged. “I haven’t seen her. I was close when the bell rang, so I came.”
“Fetch Chrysanthe.”
Harriet didn’t argue. She vanished with alacrity.
“Chrysanthe?” Simon asked incredulously. “You think it’s Chrysanthe.”
Bryony pushed the paper toward him. “That”—she tapped the leaf with a finger—“is a chrysanthemum leaf. Badly drawn but that’s what it is. You’ve seen Chrysanthe’s ring. What colors are the stones?”
His face turned thunderous. I fought the urge to shrink backward so as not to get between the two of them. I’d never imagined that my few meager clues would provide the identity of Lucius’ informant so quickly.
“Emerald and something yellow,” Simon said. “Gods and fucking suns.”
“Exactly,” Bryony said. “Chrysanthe is the only one of her Family who works in this hospital. And their emblem has several chrysanthemum leaves.” She bowed her head suddenly and I saw her throat working.
Simon sank into the nearest chair. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m not sure,” Bryony said after a pause. “But she’s the one who fits.”
“But why?” Simon said, shaking his head. “Why would she do such a thing? She’s a healer.”
Bryony shook her head. “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.” Her spine was suddenly razor straight again and her necklace blazed.
I took a cautious step backward, finding a seat myself. Another cramp—my back this time—hit and I bit my lip, determined not to show any pain. After what seemed an eternity, there was another rapid knock on the door.
“Come in,” Bryony said.
Harriet entered, looking wary. “I couldn’t find Chrysanthe,” she said. “No one’s seen her for a few hours.”
Which meant she’d vanished not long after I had returned.
Simon and Bryony seemed to reach the same conclusion. They exchanged a long look.
“Thank you, Harriet,” Simon said, in too calm a voice. “You can go. If Chrysanthe returns, please see that Bryony or I are informed.”
Harriet looked from him to Bryony; then her gaze darted to me, curiosity flaring briefly on her face. Then she looked back at Simon. “All right.” She apparently knew better than to ask any more questions and backed out of the room again.
“Do you know where she lives?” Simon asked Bryony.
“Yes. She has a flat not far from here.”
“Someone has to go see if she’s there.”
Bryony winced. “Yes.”
“Do you think she would go home?” I asked. “More likely she’s gone to Lucius to tell him where I am. Nothing else has happened to make her think her cover is blown.”
“Or else she’s just gone out on an errand,” Bryony said.
Simon shrugged. “Perhaps. But we can’t risk her slipping through our fingers. We need to take her to the Speaker. Lily can tell him her story at the same time.” He smiled suddenly, a vicious smile. “He wanted proof. Now we have it again.”
“I will send word to the chambers,” Bryony said. “But he may not grant us an audience today.”
“Tomorrow is soon enough,” Simon said. “We can hold Chrysanthe once we have her. And Lily isn’t going anywhere.” He cocked his head at me. “That’s right, isn’t it, Lily? You’ll still give your testimony.”
Unless Lucius came and killed me in the night. Unless I killed him first. I managed to nod, not wanting to rouse any of the anger crackling through him to further heights. Time enough to convince him that I was right, that Lucius needed to die, once he’d calmed down a little. “Of course.”
He nodded. “All right. Then the question is who goes to find Chrysanthe.”
Bryony rose. “I’ll do it. You have no way to make her return. I can.” Her face was implacable and I was glad that I was not Chrysanthe with the wrath of the Fae about to fall on me.
“Very well.” Simon paused, then frowned. “There’s something else I need to—”
I reached out, gripped his arm before he could say any more. “No, let her go,” I said urgently. I didn’t want him asking Bryony about wraiths. I didn’t want him telling her the truth of what wraith blood did to vampires. The Fae hated my kind enough already. I didn’t want them deciding that it was easier to eliminate one wraith than Lucius.
Simon scowled at me. “Lily—”
“Enough,” Bryony said, looking exasperated. “Whatever it is, Simon, it has to wait. I need to find Chrysanthe.”
Simon’s scowl deepened but he nodded agreement. Bryony left us alone and he turned to me, blue eyes snapping.
“You can’t ask her,” I said before he could start talking. “She can’t know.”
“Know what?”
“About me. About Lucius and the Blood. You were going to ask her about wraiths, weren’t you?” I searched his face.
He nodded. “Why shouldn’t I ask?”
“She’ll tell the Fae. Don’t you see? They’ll come after me.”
He stilled in the chair. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” I said. “Trust me.” My heart pounded. Would he listen? Would he protect me?
Simon pushed to his feet. “Fine. I won’t tell her. But we are going to talk to someone.”
“Who?” I asked, climbing to my feet, my legs shaky beneath me, whether from reprieve or the need weakening me, I wasn’t sure.
“Guy,” Simon said curtly.
Simon led the way to the Brother House, walking in silence. Do you believe me now? I wanted to ask. Do you trust me? But I stayed quiet. I knew very well there was one good reason for him not to trust me. Because I was still lying to him.
We entered the Brother House through the gate in the tunnels but had only gone a few yards farther when we met Guy coming the other way. His face was half blackened, smeared with soot or ash. He reeked of smoke.
“What in hell happened to you?” Simon demanded, reaching to clasp Guy’s upper arm.
“When did she get back?” Guy asked almost simultaneously, shrugging off the touch.
The brothers frowned at each other. “This morning,” Simon said. “We need to talk.”
“Yes,” Guy agreed. “I was just coming to find you. There was a fire at Mother’s town house.”
Lords of hell. Fear clutched my throat. “Was anyone hurt?”
Guy shook his head. “It was closed up. They’re calling it a gas leak.” His voice made it clear he didn’t believe it.
“Lucius,” Simon said at last, voice near to a snarl. “Making a point.”
“Something like that,” Guy said. “I’ve organized for Mother and Hannah and Saskia to be moved. They’ll be guarded.”
“It’s Lucius we need to talk about,” Simon said.
“I gathered that much,” Guy said. “We need somewhere
private.”
He led us back into the Brother House and up two floors to some sort of meeting chamber. Simon warded the room. When he was done, the three of us took up places around a small oak table, Simon next to me and Guy opposite. Simon briefed Guy in curt sentences.
“Son of a hell-sworn bitch,” Guy grated when Simon finished. “This is not good. What’s the plan?”
“Kill Lucius,” I said.
“Good plan.” Guy actually smiled. “How?”
Simon shook his head at both of us. “We’re not killing anyone. We get Lily to the Speaker, get the Fae to stop him.”
“No,” I snapped. “We’re past that point. Lady’s eyes, Simon, he just burned your house down. We need to end him. Some things you have to fight for,” I added, and saw him jerk as my shot hit home. I knew he didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to tap into whatever dark side of himself he feared, but mere resistance wasn’t going to win the day any longer. Lucius had changed the game. “And if you won’t help me, then I’ll do it alone.”
Simon shoved back from the table. “No.”
“Yes,” I retorted. Once upon a time, I had been willing to go along with Simon’s plan to see Lucius curbed, but now I didn’t need him curbed; I needed him gone. Both to end the threat to me and maybe, just maybe, to free me from the need. Free me before Simon had to know the truth. Killing him was the simplest way to achieve it.
“It’s too late for diplomacy, Simon. Lucius wants to kill you and he wants my blood. If you go to the Fae, the reasons for both those things will come out. Lucius will defend himself. Do you want to lose everything you’ve been working toward? Do you want every Blood lord hunting me? Or the Fae trying to kill me?” I willed him to see sense, to see that it was the only way. His eyes locked with mine and in the blue depths I saw grief and anger and denial.
Asking him to do this might just break him. Break anything he felt for me at least? But in order to live, I realized with a sickening pain that had nothing to do with the need tightening its claws, I had to be willing to pay any price.
Damn Lucius to the seven depths of hell.
“Please, Simon,” I said softly. “We don’t have a choice.”
