“Is that how you keep vanishing?” Skythia asked. “I thought your head was getting thick. Good trick. Is it something you can globe?” One of the many reasons crime was minimal in the Realm—it was next to impossible for perpetrators to hide once they’d been identified.
Unless the perpetrator was Embor Fiertag.
“I’ll have a preliminary report after the assessments. It’s enjoyable work but tiring.” When he presented the Torval agents to his cabinet in a nicely subdued bundle, their best weapon against the AOC’s chokehold, he doubted anyone would look too closely at how he’d achieved the feat. He’d tell them the censored version he, Jake and Talista had drummed up, but his staff’s forbearance did hinge on his success.
“Are you saying there’s truth to the rumors?” Gangee asked. “If your performance is affected, Elder, it’s time for a new hobby.”
“I haven’t pushed myself too far.” If he couldn’t rest well tonight, too far might be tomorrow. He couldn’t prop himself up with energy globes forever.
“You could take a vacation,” Skythia suggested.
Skythia usually retreated to Fiertaggen’s beach for long weekends, but she also had a hideaway in Key West. She used a simulacrum to cover her absence from the Realm like he did, although he’d dissuaded her from traveling to humanspace lately for reasons of his own. He found it ironic he used his simulacrum to conduct business while she used hers to pursue water sports and hideous clothing.
They all had their hobbies. His just happened to be bringing the Torvals to justice.
“I do have a request,” he said. “It occurred to me the real problem I’m having is a lack of hours in the day. As yet there’s no magical way to increase them. I’d appreciate it if research and development could get on that.”
At first, his staff goggled. Time magic was as impossible as a forced bond. Then Skythia snorted. “Now I’m worried. If you’re trying to crack jokes, you’re punch-drunk.”
Several cabinet members chuckled with relief, particularly R&D.
“Perhaps I am. I’ll take tonight off.” A thorough sleep was crucial at this juncture.
“If there’s nothing else?” Skythia asked pointedly.
“There’s nothing else.” Embor inclined his head and thanked everyone for coming. “Gangee and I will report our findings with the princess tomorrow. Sleep well.”
The other fairies popped out of the room so fast it doused the flames in the hearth. Embor returned to his chamber, set a shield and prepared for sleep. If resolve could make it so, tonight would be dreamless, and tomorrow Gangee would uncover the evidence needed to ensure the first set of Torvals got what they deserved.
All in good time, he’d take care of the other set himself—with a little help from some unorthodox friends. Well, acquaintances.
Brightness knifed through Embor’s vision. He shielded his face and squinted. A figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted by light.
He’d been waiting for so long. Years. He tried to tell her, but his throat was dry. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was drowsiness. Had to get up. Wake up. His limbs failed to respond. Prickles dotted his extremities.
But it didn’t matter. She was finally here.
“Anisette.”
“Shhhh.” She advanced through the darkness. A breeze pinned him to the mattress.
Mattress. He was in bed. Something sweet and flowery tickled his nose. She reached for him, two slender hands cool against his naked chest.
Her hands lingered at his throat, paused, covered his face. Her body brushed against him, blocking the glow of the doorway.
Small, firm breasts. A blanket of hair.
Anisette. Yes.
The crisp curls of her groin brushed his cock, and her fingers pressed his eyes shut. Summer flared inside him, and heat. When he tried to embrace her, his arms were too heavy.
“Shhh,” she said again.
Her satiny skin caressed him, but she was winter and snow. His heat flowed into her. He could feel it amass inside her like a beating heart. Yet with each beat it faded, chill and small and smaller still. He strained to reach it before it was too late.
He’d waited so long for this. Why wasn’t it working?
Her finger slipped between his lips, bitter and salty. Inside her. Inside him. Wake up. She’d taken his heat but she was too cold.
“Anisette?”
“Shhh,” she said a third time. Her body began to move. Rime crusted her skin, chafing him. He should roll atop her and into her, heat her up. Why couldn’t he move?
She squeezed two icy thighs around his cock and blew frost into his ear. Pain shuddered through him instead of ecstasy. He hadn’t told her about the prophesy. If he told her, she’d melt. Then she’d make the pain go away.
Wake up. Her body sizzled with icy fire, searing him. She was freezing without him inside her. She needed him, and he hurt so much.
Suddenly she was wrenched away, crying his name. White light flared, trapping her in solid ice. This wouldn’t be happening if he’d taken her, and now the ice would kill her.
He leapt forward, but wires cut his wrists. Fetid air entered his nose. He couldn’t breathe, he’d suffocate, he’d die before he could tell her—
No!
This wasn’t happening. Another nightmare. He couldn’t stop watching her die, watching them kill her. He couldn’t wake up. Break the cycle. Wake up!
Help me.
The cry roused Ani from hot, restive slumber.
She nipped up like a jack in the box. Heart racing, she stared into the darkness. Earth magic sharpened her hearing, her vision. Yet no matter how far she extended, the only sounds were the ordinary noises of the night.
She’d been dreaming. Good or bad? Fairies only had bad dreams if their psyche was imbalanced. The type of imbalance that could cause a woman to experience graphic, sexual dreams about the Primary of the Elder Court. That could cause panic attacks and instinctive agony spells.
What a mess. Ani collapsed onto the pillows and scrubbed her face. She had to regain control. Erotic nighttime fantasies like the one she’d been enjoying weren’t bad exactly. What made hers bad was that she’d been interrupted before the grand conclusion.
It had been so close to grand. His skin. His hands. His tongue. Whether or not it was a nightmare, it felt bad now. Her puss ached with frustration, but she had no urge to rub it. All the lust had been shocked out of her by the sudden fright.
Imbalanced indeed. Without Talista by her side, she’d grown too feeble to handle Court. She’d limped along for five years, but evidently she’d reached her limit.
She suspected her limit had something to do with Warran Torval. Or was it her mortifying desire to offer Elder Embor a proposition card—or proposition him outright?
While cowardice explained the first issue, lack of balance was the only explanation for the second. She’d lost her center and her sense. While Embor’s threat to report her had likely been a bluff, it didn’t erase the fact she’d throttled him—and soon thereafter tried to kiss him.
No, she’d not be offering Embor a proposition card.
Ani rolled in the tangled sheets until her cheek hit a cool spot on the opposite pillow. There was no place at Court for a half-twin with violent panic attacks and a yen for the Primary. What was she going to do? Ani pondered her options until a bar of orange sunrise splashed her face, waking her from the sleep she thought she’d never find.
The light was so concentrated it pierced her eyelids. She flopped away from it, or tried to. Something large weighed down the coverlet, pinning her to the bed.
Ani yanked at the covers. Her sister hadn’t sheet-wedged her in decades, but the sensation of being stuck by tightly wrapped blankets was a familiar one.
“Talista, not funny.”
A hoarse rumble answered her right before a multitude of needles pierced her thigh.
Ani screeched and kicked. The weight disappeared. A distinct thump sounded on the floor to her right.
Adrenaline blasted her system as her eyesight adjusted to the half-dark. She scrambled off the bed, groping for the alarm globe on the side table.
“Who’s there?”
She could see no one in her bedchamber, and she didn’t sense Tali through their sibling bond.
Cautiously she crept around the footboard, gripping her alarm globe. The fist-sized charms could wake one person or a castle depending on how one used them.
When she reached the corner, a black cat waited in the center of her damp rug with its tail tucked over its paws.
She looked at the cat. The cat looked at her. Its yellow eyes gleamed. Then it hiked its back leg into the air and began to wash itself.
Oh. Well. Himself.
“Hello, Fey.” Anisette glanced at her door and windows. Undisturbed, keyed to locks she controlled. She chose who could enter. The only other way in was via transportation.
“What are you doing here, Master Fey?”
The cat, in the way of cats, didn’t acknowledge her. He started on his tail.
Some Fey cats communicated with fairies. Some didn’t. They appeared and disappeared all over the Realm, cities to deserts. They also traveled to humanspace, possibly through things Tali called gnome holes and possibly by means of their own devising.
Fairies were the dominant primates on the Realm continent, the only civilized land in their world. Fairies outnumbered leprechauns, annishags, yeti, medusas and other sentient species, with the sentience of gnomes an item of some debate.
Cats were not primates.
“I hope it didn’t hurt when I kicked you out of bed,” she told the cat. “I must have heard you meowing last night. I thought I had a nightmare.” What a relief to know she wasn’t stricken with night terrors on top of cowardice, panic attacks and extremely naughty fantasies about the Primary of the Realm.
The cat extended his front paws, lengthening his body until he looked like a weasel. He was glossy black with tuxedo markings—white chin, chest, belly and paws. He was neither small nor large, longhaired nor short, striking nor drab.
When he finished his stretch, he ambled to her bathing room, his tail curved into half a heart. She followed. He batted the surface of her bathing pool before helping himself to a drink.
“I could fetch you some milk,” she offered. “Or an egg. Or both.”
The cat continued to drink—lap, lap, lap. Pause. Lap, lap, lap. Pause.
She felt uncomfortable taking care of her needs with him in the room so she waited until he left. Whenever cats appeared in a dwelling, the inhabitants were considered lucky, blessed by the spirits. It was tradition to pamper cats if given the opportunity. Ani enjoyed their company, even when the creatures had nothing to say.
What did it mean that a cat was in her chamber? Was she about to come into some luck? She could use it.
He was napping on her pillow when she exited the bathroom, his black fur a contrast to the pale pink sheets. Puzzled by the cat and anxious about her visit to the healers—and the person dragging her there—Ani dressed.
Had she heard anything about cats wandering the complex lately? They’d been known to show up during Court sessions, to the dismay of the Elders, but rarely anywhere else. Janelle might know. Anisette would ask when she dropped off her laundry.
When she was brushing her hair, a knock sounded on her door.
“Princess,” Embor’s voice called through the wood. Her stomach fluttered so hard she was surprised the cat didn’t wake up and chase it. “You have an appointment.”
“One moment.” She hadn’t chosen her prettiest blue dress because she was to see Embor today—it was because the yellow was dirty. She always combed her straight hair one hundred times; otherwise tangles overwhelmed her head. And she always dabbed perfume behind her ears and glossed her lips.
A bit breathless, she tied her hair back and opened the door. Outfitted in an off-white tunic and trousers, Embor appeared more and less intimidating than he’d been yesterday. More intimidating because his handsome face seemed drawn with displeasure. Less intimidating because she knew what he looked like naked. Courtesy of her dreams.
Much like her exchange with the cat this morning, she and Embor eyed one another without comment, the only difference being neither of them broke off to lick their behinds.
Embor finally dropped his gaze to his briefcase, adjusting his grip. “Have you breakfasted?”
“No, I—”
“Good. Gangee said you needed an empty stomach.”
“This isn’t necessary. I feel very much myself this morning.”
He examined her from head to toe. Ani resisted the urge to fidget. Her toilette had been pointless. She’d never seen him wear anything elaborate or trendy. He wasn’t the type to be impressed by fripperies, but looking her best imbued her with confidence. Yesterday he’d seen her looking her worst, and behaving worse than that.
“Have you remembered what happened before you took ill?” he asked.
Ani hadn’t thought about it beyond the generalities. “It could have been as minor as a forgotten appointment. A number of things conspire to trigger a panic attack.”
“Did you forget an appointment?”
“Well, no. But anxiety is hardly a rare condition in this environment.” She often cared for the triplets. She often suffered through meals with the Torvals. The only unusual element in her day yesterday had been running into Embor, but she could hardly blame him for her overset.
To his face.
His stern, handsome face with kissable lips and piercing grey eyes.
She was a silly goose. That’s what was wrong with her.
Embor shifted his case to his other hand. “Walk or transport?”
If they walked, it would prolong the awkwardness. Why was this man so hard to talk to? If he could answer a question in a monosyllable, he did. Sometimes he did even when he shouldn’t.
If they transported, she’d get to touch him.
“Transport please.” She held out her hand as something fuzzy bumped her ankles.
He’s keeping secrets from you, the cat said, his mind-voice a silken whisper.
When Embor reached for her, she snatched her arm back, peering at the cat. He seated himself beside the doorjamb and stared at the Primary.
“A cat,” Embor said.
“He was in my room this morning.” While cats communicated in mind speech, they couldn’t be addressed in mind speech, not that they’d acknowledged. Considering what the cat had just said about Embor, Ani didn’t want to respond aloud.
“Why are you here, Fey?” Embor asked.
Without taking his gaze off Embor, the tom began scratching the doorjamb slowly with one white paw.
Ani waited a moment before asking, “Did he tell you anything?”
“No.” Embor frowned. “I’ve seen that cat before.”
“Around Court?”
“Perhaps in a book. His pattern isn’t uncommon.” The cat’s paw raised and lowered. “Why is he scratching your door?”
“Maybe he’s marking it.” Warning to Cats: The Lady Here Kicks You Out Of Bed.
“There’s no mark.”
“I doubt we can detect it.” Cats often seemed to see things fairies couldn’t, staring at walls and chasing nothing across the floor. “Master Fey, I have an appointment. Can I get you anything?”
“Miaow,” he said, but it didn’t translate.
“Very well.” If the cat chose not to elaborate, she couldn’t make him, much like another man in her present company. “I hope to see you later.”
Embor again held out his hand to transport them to the healer’s ward when the cat said to her, He’s going to lie to you about the exam.
The cat’s timing was deliberate. So, too, his cryptic delivery. Cats were perfectly capable of being concrete. They chose not to be.
A little annoyed, she asked, “Would you like to speak with me in private, Master Fey?”
The cat quit scratching the jamb and began
to wash his face. She knew a dismissal when she saw one.
Chapter Five
Embor waited patiently while Gangee examined Anisette. He’d decided not to discuss his sleep issues with the physician. He felt more rested today than he had in weeks.
Last night wasn’t the first time Anisette had appeared in his nightmares. That seemed to be the hallmark of these latest terrors, failing to bond with her and watching her die. It was, however, the first time he’d sought help. It was also the first time he hadn’t crawled from bed in a haze of fury and impotence, so exhausted he needed an immediate infusion.
Was that the secret? Asking for help? He’d woken before the nightmare’s dreadful conclusion and slept the rest of the night undisturbed. Besides, if he told Gangee, the healer would want to know about the energy globes. No need to give his staff cause to watch his comings and goings more closely.
The glow from the final spell faded, and Gangee patted Anisette’s knee. “Princess Anisette, you’re in perfect health.”
“Just as I assured the Primary I was.” Anisette pressed open a flower sewn to the neckline of her dress and peeked at Embor. Seated on the exam table, her face was level with his.
“I’m pleased to hear it.” That being said, he failed to believe last night’s episode had ordinary causes. She wasn’t of the nature to be unhinged and hurt people. She’d borne Talista’s antics with dignity, even when she’d been punished for covering up shenanigans.
If Anisette hadn’t collapsed five years ago when Talista had gone missing, the stress of Court training was hardly enough to overset her. Some other force was at work. Something had affected her that she didn’t understand or wasn’t sharing. Why else would she have tried to strangle him?
“What about her mental health?” he questioned the healer.
Anisette answered first. “I’m overscheduled, not unstable.”
“No one’s questioning your stability,” Gangee assured her with a pointed glance at Embor. “Your panic attack was an acute episode.”
“And isolated.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I’m recovered.”
“We can’t be certain.” Embor considered how much to tell her. She’d been exposed to many Court secrets, including the fact spirit magic wasn’t so much criminal as it was a necessary evil.
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