by Jocelyn Fox
“Of course. Thank you, Haze,” said Tess.
Calliea rested her hand on her whip as they waited for Quinn in a small knot near the front of the healing ward. Life in the White City since they’d returned hadn’t had the chance to settle into any kind of rhythm yet. She’d visited her Valkyrie, and she’d even had the chance to take her faehal on a ride this morning, soaring above the City as dawn tinged the sky to the east with purple. Her Kyrim was one of the largest of those who had gained their wings with the High Queen’s sorcery, and in her opinion, he was the most beautiful of all the Valkyries’ mounts. His light gray coat shone with highlights of pale blue and silver, and his dark mane and tail almost looked like a deep cobalt color rather than true black. He stood half a head taller than the next largest faehal, and his well-muscled chest and magnificent, powerful hindquarters spoke to his war-horse ancestry.
After what Calliea knew was only minutes but seemed like an interminably long time to her, Quinn jogged up the main aisle and joined them. She glanced over him and noted that he’d finally exchanged his strangely patterned green pants for a pair of black trousers. He still wore his dust-colored boots, the likes of which Calliea had only seen sketched in some more recent histories detailing the development of the mortal world. She felt Merrick’s presence at her side and turned her attention to him, meeting his calm gray eyes.
“Does it feel as though we are about to have a war council?” he said to her in a low voice.
She shrugged. “Perhaps. If we are, then I will be glad to contribute my thoughts.”
He pressed his lips together, keeping pace with her as they followed the Bearer toward her quarters. “Do you think we will ever truly have peace?”
Calliea shrugged again. “The peace we knew when we were younger was only an illusion. We know that now.”
“True. But the fact remains that even during that illusion, as you call it, hundreds weren’t dying in battles with Dark creatures.”
“We had to go to war against Malravenar. Surely you’re not saying that there was any different way.” She glanced at him as they wound down the passageways of the cathedral.
“To question it now is to try to untangle a web so complex that I can’t even see the individual threads,” Merrick said.
“Have you been speaking with the Bearer’s brother?”
“I’ve had a few conversations with him,” Merrick admitted. “I’m interested in his perspective on time. His Sight gives him a unique vantage point.”
“I’d think it would be a very frustrating vantage point,” remarked Calliea. “I wouldn’t want the Sight. I wouldn’t want to know. It’s hard enough to make decisions in the moment without knowing the possibilities of the future.”
“It makes me think that perhaps there are possibilities that we have not yet explored,” Merrick said. “If we can Walk between two locations, why not Walk between two times? If I can scry for something that is happening in the present, why not scry for something that happened in the past or will happen in the future?”
“You’re making my head hurt,” said Calliea lightly, but Merrick’s words dropped a stone of unnamed unease into her stomach. Something about his ideas made her skin prickle with apprehension. “Those are rather large ideas.”
“Are you saying I can’t handle large ideas?” Merrick’s eyes danced with good humor.
“No, I’m saying you’re quite capable, and that’s what makes me nervous,” replied Calliea with a smile that she didn’t feel.
Their small group reached the tapestry depicting the river tree and the Sword within its trunk. Calliea felt the Caedbranr hum as Tess called a bit of her taebramh down her war markings to open the portal to her rooms for everyone. She had gotten used to the feeling of the Sword in her time spent close to the Bearer, but it still wasn’t wholly pleasant to feel the touch of the ancient weapon.
“Haze,” said Tess as they all entered her quarters, “would you please find Finnead and ask him to join us?”
“Might as well add Gray to that list,” said Liam.
Tess nodded her assent and the Glasidhe messenger bowed before disappearing back through the portal.
“Definitely more space than our quarters in the tent during the journey, eh?” Calliea said to Tess as she surveyed the well-appointed room.
“It’s probably more than I need, but I can’t complain,” replied Tess. She gestured to the table and chairs set by the fire. “Please, everyone take a seat.”
“I’ll make some khal,” said Calliea. She felt restless and wanted to occupy her hands. The confrontation in the healing hall had left her with a buzzing energy that needed an outlet, however small. She listened to the conversation as she found the kettle and filled it with water.
“Oh, let me light the fire,” said Tess, sending a spark of taebramh to summon the flames into life.
Calliea remembered a time when Tess hadn’t been able to summon her power so casually and with such control. And quick on the heels of that memory was the fact that she herself hadn’t ever anticipated occupying a position of such power and influence within any Court, much less the Vyldgard of the High Queen. She focused on measuring the khal into the finely woven cloth pouch as the water heated over the crackling flames. The room fell into an uneasy silence, and Calliea was glad that she had a task to complete.
“Quinn, do you need anything for your face? I could make a compress while we wait,” Tess said.
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine,” the large, tattooed man said.
“Hopefully the Unseelie healers take care of Donovan.” Calliea heard a hint of sadness in Tess’s voice. She glanced over her shoulder to see her friend staring down at the table.
“Did you know him from your time in the Unseelie Court?” Calliea asked quietly. Perhaps if Tess spoke about it, some of the unhappiness would recede from her face.
“Yes,” said Tess, her eyes still faraway but a small smile touching her mouth. “Mab had a feast to welcome Finnead back to Court…and to celebrate the fact that he’d found the fendhionne that she’d sent him to fetch from the mortal world.” She paused. “Some parts of that night were pretty terrible. Mab cracked open my mind and sorted through everything. Well, almost everything,” she amended. “But then Bren took me to sit with Ramel, Donovan, Emery and Guinna. They didn’t treat me like an oddity. They were all very…friendly.”
“I’m sure he’s a good dude,” Quinn said with a conciliatory note in his voice.
“But he hurt Niamh,” Tess finished for him. “I get it.”
“It’s good you do, because I don’t,” said Liam, looking balefully at his teammate.
Quinn stretched luxuriously, the tattoos on his muscled brown arms rippling. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. Calliea noticed that Quinn’s eyes, normally a pale blue-green that contrasted pleasingly with his tawny skin, had darkened to a stormy gray.
“You wanna hash this out here, let’s do it, brother,” Quinn said. Calliea recognized the deadly calm on his face. She’d felt it herself before a challenge, before riding into battle. Her stomach tightened. Would Quinn really fight Liam, here in Tess’s room? Steam escaped the kettle over the fire. It was hot enough to add the pouch of khal, but she didn’t want to take her eyes from the tense confrontation at the table.
“Liam,” said Tess in a low voice.
“Tess, this isn’t your problem,” Liam said stiffly.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” the Bearer replied. “You’re one of Vell’s Three, and I’m the Bearer. Here’s a piece of news for you: we don’t get to have personal lives that are completely our own anymore. Everything we do has ripple effects.”
Liam’s eyes flashed. Merrick was seated between the brother and sister, and he observed with his usual calm, but Calliea knew that he was prepared to intervene if necessary. If she was honest with herself, she’d rather he not place himself between the Bearer and the Seer who still bore a part of the First Queen in his head. But such were their lives now
. Now they occupied positions where their daily interactions intersected with powerful individuals, and being caught up in the conflicts between them was a unique but unavoidable hazard.
“How about you tell that to Quinn,” said Liam. “He might well have pushed Mab over the edge.”
“We don’t know that,” replied Tess. “And besides, he doesn’t owe allegiance to any Court. Vell placed the rest of your team under her protection after the battle at the Dark Keep as a gesture of thanks. But his assault of the Unseelie Vaelanmavar can’t be taken as a direct insult by the Seelie or the Vyldgard.”
Quinn said nothing, keeping his eyes on Liam.
“Why are you defending him?” Liam asked, a thread of frustration apparent in his voice.
“Because you’re too close to this,” said Tess quietly. “You think you still have authority over Quinn because of your past with him. But here, in Faeortalam…you can’t tell him what to do.”
“Oh, so that gives him the right to act like an idiot?” Liam shook his head. “I just expect more than that from him.”
Quinn smiled humorlessly. “The guilt trip ain’t gonna work here. You and I both know we’ve done much worse things than smashing a stool into some asshole’s face.”
“We’re not getting into that here.” Liam’s voice dropped into something near a growl.
Quinn shrugged and spread his calloused hands. “They’re all warriors. They’ve fought in a war. They know it as well as I do. Bad stuff happens. You make judgment calls. Choices. Stop acting like I just threw a grenade into a schoolhouse or something.”
“Not everything here has parallels to our world,” retorted Liam.
“Then stop actin’ like you’re still my lieutenant,” replied Quinn with quiet, deadly precision.
Liam stared at Quinn for a long moment and then sat back in his chair, the line of his jaw hard. Calliea turned back to making the khal, more assured now that the two men wouldn’t start an outright brawl. She heard Tess sigh, and then the Bearer said, “Finnead and Gray are here. Can we attempt to have a productive discussion?”
No one answered her. The wall rippled, Finnead and Gray emerging into the room.
“Heard we missed a dust-up,” said Gray brightly, tossing her golden braid over one shoulder.
“We’re not going to discuss the specifics,” said Tess, gesturing for them to take a seat.
“Welcome back, cousin,” Gray said to Calliea, who nodded as she took the kettle from over the fire. The earthy scent of khal filled the air as she poured small cups of the strong brew for everyone seated around the table. Out of all of them, Finnead looked like he needed it the most. If he’d said that he hadn’t slept at all in the time that they’d been gone in the mortal world, Calliea would have believed him.
Tess gave Finnead and Gray a concise summary of the confrontation in the healing hall. Gray’s brilliant blue eyes darkened even at the Bearer’s sparse description of the Unseelie actions. Finnead looked haggard. He ran a hand through his dark hair.
“They’re going to take Andraste,” he said raggedly. “When they leave. They’ll take her.”
“That would be logical,” agreed Merrick.
“Then the Vyldretning will not be able to use the Lethe Stone on the Princess,” said Gray, prowling restlessly around the perimeter of the table.
Calliea stood with her back to the fire, feeling the warmth of the flames and sipping her khal. Sometimes observing before leaping into a conversation was more prudent. She smiled to herself. No one could say that she hadn’t learned anything in her time with the Bearer and the High Queen.
“I still do not think that the Lethe Stone will be necessary,” said Finnead.
“You’ve been saying that since the beginning. I know that you don’t favor that course of action,” Tess replied, her voice almost gentle.
“I realize that it might be our only option at some point,” Finnead said heavily. “And I’ve prepared for that eventuality. I just cannot…” He shut his eyes briefly. Calliea glanced at Merrick. She had never seen the enigmatic Knight so worn down and distraught, his emotions showing so plainly on a face that usually bore no expression.
“I cannot advocate the Lethe Stone as the first course of action, but I understand that the decision is not solely mine to make,” Finnead concluded.
“So, what we’re really discussing here,” said Liam after a brief silence, “is what the movement of the Unseelie Court back to Darkhill will mean for Titania’s plan, and the Vyldretning’s plan.”
“Mab helped construct the Gates because I promised that I’d bring back the Lethe Stone to restore Andraste,” Tess said thoughtfully. “Healing her sister seemed like a priority for her. Something that she actually wanted. Why would she pack up and take Andraste back to Darkhill before she could be healed?”
“She is spiraling deeper into her own madness,” Finnead said.
“Our spies in the Glasidhe and among the Unseelie have sent gruesome reports,” agreed Gray grimly.
“Have you Seen anything, Liam?” Tess asked directly.
Liam leaned back in his chair, his expression guarded. “My visions are not reliable.”
“But they’re possibilities,” pressed the Bearer.
“They’re only possibilities,” said Liam, shaking his head. “I’m not going to contribute to instability by putting out potential scenarios that could sway us one way or the other.”
“It’s information that we can use,” persisted Tess.
“No,” snapped Liam.
His sister’s eyes widened at his harsh reply, storminess surfacing in her green gaze. “Fine,” she said stiffly. She paused. “It would be better if Vell were here. Can you get a message to her?”
“They are at least a day’s ride outside the City,” said Gray, “but I will let her know.”
“Perhaps it is for the best if the High Queen is not here,” said Finnead thoughtfully.
“And why is that?” said Merrick, his tone matching Finnead’s. Calliea recognized his intent expression: he was thinking through the possibilities, sorting reasons in his head, sifting until he found what Finnead was thinking.
“Because she will have plausible deniability,” said Liam. “Mab won’t be able to directly blame her.”
“Blame her for what?” Tess asked, her eyes traveling between the Vyldretning’s Three. Gray looked at Finnead and Liam flexed his hands on the table. They all seemed to understand the direction of Finnead’s thoughts. Even though she didn’t have the same connection to him, clarity flashed through Calliea’s mind. She stepped forward and spoke her first words of this informal war council.
“For kidnapping the Unseelie Princess.”
Chapter 13
Vivian heard the raised voices in the front of the house through the closed bedroom door. She pressed the bandage on her forearm back into place. Opening the cut again had hurt like hell, but she wasn’t sure that she’d be able to hide another wound from everyone else in such close quarters. Tyr needed more blood to heal faster. She knew that Ross would be furious with her if she found out that Vivian had given the Exiled man her blood without supervision, but what Ross didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Vivian looked down at the now-sleeping Tyr and delicately wiped away a trace of bright red blood at the corner of his mouth. The fact that it was her blood didn’t make her stomach turn as much as it might have only a few days before.
Their silent conversation – Vivian couldn’t bring herself to think of it as telepathic, not just yet, though she knew it fit the definition – had tired Tyr visibly. Somehow after hearing his voice in her head, she couldn’t see him as heartless and dangerous. He’d been an enigma, but now she felt like she understood him a bit more. Maybe that was all part of his plan, she admitted to herself, but if it was, it was working. So, she’d knelt next to him and peeled the bandage off her arm, wincing as the adhesive tugged at her skin.
You have already given me blood, Tyr said. And you are injured yourself. I cannot ask
for more so soon.
You didn’t ask, Vivian replied. I’m offering. And I feel fine.
It will hurt, he said, his gray eyes weary.
I can handle it, she’d said, making her mind-voice as firm as she could manage. And you need to heal. We need you to help us deal with whatever Corsica is planning.
When she mentioned Corsica, it was as though shutters came down over Tyr’s face. He didn’t speak to her again, just nodded and accepted her arm. She hadn’t been able to help the hiss of pain that escaped her as he reopened the wound, his grip on her forearm frighteningly strong, even though he looked like he’d barely be able to stand up on his own. Her heartbeat had roared in her ears by the time he was done, a cold sweat slicking her body. But she’d been able to push all that aside as she saw the immediate effects of her blood on Tyr: the blue tinge receded from about his lips, and the lines of pain around his mouth and eyes eased.
Thank you, he’d mouthed, his eyes heavy-lidded and drowsy. She’d helped rearrange the nest of blankets around him, checking the bandage on his leg for any fresh blood and finding none. He’d fallen asleep quickly, his head tilted to one side, his shaggy silver hair curling about his pointed ears.
Now Vivian pressed the edges of the adhesive bandage firmly to her skin and tried to distinguish words in the jumble of voices from the front room. She stood and grabbed the edge of the bed as she swayed, dizziness whirling about her head. Damn. Amateur mistake, she chided herself. She vowed to be more prepared for her blood donation sessions in the future as she scrabbled in the drawer of her bedside table, questing fingers finding a piece of her chocolate stash. She extricated the chocolate from its foil wrapper, popped the candy into her mouth and sighed as the sugar seeped into her bloodstream. Ross had offered her that tip when she’d confessed she got lightheaded sometimes during blood draws at the doctor’s office. Simple glucose like in sugary candy or soda gave a quick boost to blood sugar, helping stave off dizziness and other ill effects.
Vivian finished off the last two swallows of her ginger ale as she opened the bedroom door, grimacing at the combined taste of the soda and chocolate. She shut the door carefully behind her.
