by Jocelyn Fox
The tunnel sloped downward. It was wide enough for three men to walk abreast, but the raiding party kept their formation of two lines, spaced evenly. Calliea didn’t know who walked beside Merrick. She thought maybe it was Quinn. She tried to compare the distance they’d traveled to the distance that Finnead had told them the tunnel stretched before the second door into the Princess’s prison. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as the tunnel curved sharply. With a silent hand gesture, Merrick motioned for them to pause. He slid forward along the frost-rimed wall and disappeared around the corner.
Calliea heard the sound of blades clashing even as the thick fog rolled around the corner. She sprinted forward, raising her sword, and found Merrick standing in front of the icy door to the Princess’s prison, the two guards unconscious at his feet. One of the guard’s swords was stained with dark blood. Calliea grabbed Merrick’s shoulder, horror filling her chest.
“I’m fine,” he said dismissively, gesturing to his shoulder. A patch of wetness marked his dark clothing.
“None of these fit,” growled the raider holding the key ring, tossing them in disgust onto the ground.
Calliea helped search the guards, but they didn’t have any key rings.
“Guess we’ll do this the old fashioned way,” said another raider, stepping up to the door and running gloved hands over it again.
“If there’s no key, it’s probably warded,” said Calliea.
“I have tools for that too,” said the raider that she knew was Thea, blue eyes gleaming. She took out a silver stick from her belt pouch and began writing complex runes on the door, talking under her breath.
Calliea turned and helped one of the others tie the hands and feet of the guards. Goose bumps rippled over her skin. Were they just this good, or was this too easy? Were they lucky that they’d slipped in, taking advantage of Mab’s apathy, or were they going to encounter some hidden trap? She wanted to have confidence in her raiders – in herself – but some instinct told her otherwise.
“There,” said Thea. “Safe to pick now.”
Calliea glanced over her shoulder and saw one of her dark-garbed raiders standing before the great lock on the door, silver picks held at the ready. She frowned.
“Thea, are you sure?” she asked, her own distorted voice echoing in the tunnel.
Thea nodded. “Nothing on the door itself.”
“What about in the lock?” Calliea asked.
But the silver picks plunged into the lock, there was a silent suspended moment in which Calliea thought that perhaps they had made it this far out of skill rather than luck, and then the world exploded.
Somehow she didn’t impale herself on her own sword as the blast slammed her into the rock-studded wall of the tunnel. She felt something snap in one of her wrists, her hand thrown up instinctively to protect her face. The explosion wasn’t hot or cold, it was just force that crashed into them in a great sound-defying wall. But just as quickly as it happened, it was over. She heard a faint ringing in her ears that resolved into an otherworldly screaming beyond the door as she staggered upright, using her sword as a crutch.
Swallowing a cry of pain, she pulled her kerchief up over her face again with the hand attached to her broken wrist. She needed the other hand for her sword. Two of the others were already on their feet. Her command came out stern and deep-voiced.
“Everyone up!”
She looked desperately at the door, and a second glance told her it wasn’t her imagination. The door was open, a seam of light at one side. Her heart leaped even as she counted the number of raiders on their feet: all five. They were so close. The unearthly shrieks from behind the door must be the Unseelie Princess. It sounded like there were words in the high-pitched ululating screams but Calliea couldn’t make them out. She raised her blade and pushed through the heavy door into the Princess’s prison.
Mab’s Vaelanmavar stood from his seat by the crackling fire, his movements languid and leisurely as he turned toward Calliea. She stared at him, stunned. The others flowed into the room behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, Calliea saw the Unseelie Princess throwing herself against her chains again and again, screaming.
Robin threw his smoke orb into the center of the room. The fog curled out to cover the floor. The Vaelanmavar laughed, a sound that made Calliea’s skin crawl.
“Get the Princess,” she ordered, and she leapt at the Vaelanmavar.
He wore nothing over his nose and mouth but the smoke didn’t seem to affect him. He knocked aside her first blow easily, as though he were sparring a child. Calliea’s broken wrist throbbed sharply, sending tendrils of pain up her arm. She gritted her teeth and struck at him again. One of the others joined the fight, but the Vaelanmavar seemed unconcerned, countering both their strikes without any trouble. She couldn’t spare any attention to the raiders working on the silver bars of the Princess’s prison. Andraste’s screams reached a higher pitch, piercing and frightening in their intensity.
Another figure appeared out of the shadows, too quickly for Calliea to break off from her attack on the Vaelanmavar. She saw the mace as the figure swung it and felt the bone-jarring thud into her side. Her breath caught as the figure jerked the mace free. Her entire body went numb and she knew in the back of her head that it was probably a mortal wound. Incandescent rage filled her and with inhuman speed she thrust her blade through the mace-wielder’s torso, letting go of the hilt as she whirled. With the last of her strength, she smashed the glass smoke orb into the face of the Unseelie Vaelanmavar, morbid satisfaction bursting through her as she felt the sharp shards grind into his flesh.
His screams mingled with the shrieks of the Unseelie Princess in her ears as her vision wavered. She fell to her knees, her good hand hovering over her side. She couldn’t breathe. The frosted stone felt cold on the side of her face as she fell forward and the world went black.
Chapter 17
“So we’re supposed to just let Molly go meet Corsica without any backup at all?”
Vivian winced at the strident tone of Ross’s voice, evident even through the door of the study-turned-permanent-guest-room. Molly didn’t react to the argument, though Vivian thought that it was impossible for her not to have heard it. Being half-Fae, Molly would have the keen hearing of the Sidhe. Vivian pushed down a little stab of jealousy and focused her attention on Ramel.
She’d volunteered to sit with Ramel while Molly went to go meet with Corsica. To her surprise, the others hadn’t objected. Maybe they just thought it was a convenient way to keep her out of trouble while everyone else went off to meet the crazy Exile and the bone sorcerer. Jess was staying behind at the house, and they’d be leaving Mayhem as well.
“Don’t worry about being left here alone,” said Molly.
“Can you read my mind too?” demanded Vivian.
Molly chuckled. “No. I can just see the thoughts circulating behind your eyes. You’re thinking pretty hard about what’s about to happen.” She shrugged. “It’s not a bad thing.”
“Honestly, I’d feel a little better if Niall stayed,” said Vivian, deciding that Molly could probably read her pretty well anyway. “Not that I don’t trust Jess….and I know Niall doesn’t have his magic right now…but….” She ended her trailing sentence with her own shrug.
“Jess is a good fighter,” said Molly with a confidence that made Vivian think she’d seen Jess in action. “One of the best that I’ve seen who aren’t Sidhe.”
“But how many fighters have you seen who aren’t Sidhe?” pointed out Vivian.
Molly smiled. “Okay, maybe I should have just left it at ‘he’s a good fighter.’”
“Lady Vivian, I will keep watch as well,” said Farin solemnly from her perch atop the desk by the window.
“Thank you, Farin,” Vivian replied sincerely. Then she shifted her focus back to Ramel. No matter what everyone’s motivation to agreeing with her assignment as his nurse while Molly was gone, it was still a very real responsibility. Her eyes lingered
on his pale face. The underlying blueness of his lips hadn’t improved much.
“If only his healing was as simple as Tyr’s,” said Molly with a bit of an edge to her voice.
Vivian pressed her forearm to her side, acutely aware of the bandage that covered the cut from which she’d given Tyr blood not once, but twice since he was wounded the prior night. “If that were the case, I’m sure that we’d all be willing to help him.”
Molly’s catlike eyes softened. “I didn’t mean that as a stab at you. Sorry.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Vivian, though the smile she tried to force onto her mouth felt wobbly and unstable.
“At this point, caring for him is pretty simple,” said Molly, her voice brisk again. She motioned for Vivian to join her by Ramel’s bedside, showing her the supplies laid out neatly in a row. “You shouldn’t need to do any of this in the short time I’m gone, but just in case, I’ll tell you what is here. He might wake up once, maybe twice, and he’s not very coherent yet. His body is still working hard to heal itself.”
Vivian could hear the tightness in Molly’s words as the half-Fae woman struggled not to let her emotion show.
“If he does wake up, you can ask him whether he wants some water, and even some broth,” she continued. “The broth is in the fridge, in the Tupperware with the red lid. It’s labeled. A minute in the microwave and it should be good.”
“You didn’t forget any of the mortal world, did you,” said Vivian, making it more of a statement than a question.
“I did, actually, when Queen Mab obliterated all my memories of my life before coming to the Unseelie Court,” replied Molly.
“Oh,” said Vivian, her single word dropping into the silence like a coin dropping into still water.
“Anyway,” said Molly, “like I said, you shouldn’t need to mess with his bandages or anything. The salve for his burns is here in this little pot, you don’t need a lot, just enough to cover your fingertip. That’s only if he wakes up and seems uncomfortable.”
“Okay,” said Vivian. When would she stop feeling like an awkward kid in the presence of anyone from the Fae world?
“If you have questions, do not hesitate to ask me,” contributed Farin, flexing her iridescent wings.
“I will,” said Vivian with a nod. “How is your brother?”
“He is resting now,” said Farin, her small fierce face solemn. “I believe he is out of danger.”
“That’s good to hear,” said Vivian, and she meant it. Somehow, she felt like the Glasidhe accepted her without question. Perhaps it was because they were small and knew what it was to have to prove themselves constantly.
“Thank you, Farin, for helping,” said Molly. She turned to Vivian, who dragged her eyes away from Ramel’s still face. “I believe that Ramel is out of danger as well, but just sit with him, please, and it will ease my mind as I go to meet Corsica.”
Vivian felt her eyebrows draw together over her nose. “You know you speak all formal like Niall when you get serious?”
Molly stared at her for a moment and then smiled. “Actually, I didn’t, but now that you mention it, I do.”
“All right, I think I’m good,” said Vivian. Maybe she’d use the time to practice summoning her taebramh. She imagined the shocked look on Niall’s handsome face when she conjured an impressive fireball during their next lesson…if they had a next lesson. She sighed.
“Don’t worry about all the words that’ve been flying around,” advised Molly. “People tend to say outlandish things when they’re stressed or confronted with something very new.”
Her ears burning with embarrassment, Vivian ducked her head. “I know I didn’t…well, I haven’t been very fair to Niall.” She rubbed her hand on her thigh. “I just don’t want him to feel like he has to teach me, you know? I don’t want him to do it because he thinks it’s the only way we’ll have any defense against the bone sorcerer. And I’m not really sure I’d be much use anyway.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Molly in her smooth, inscrutable voice.
“Oh, I know, you’re probably going to be our defense against the bone sorcerer,” amended Vivian. Way to offend her and make her think you’re even more of an idiot, she chided herself.
“No,” said Molly, “I meant that you shouldn’t be so sure that you wouldn’t be much use.”
Vivian felt like a butterfly pinned to a piece of cardboard as Molly’s powerful eyes pinioned her. “I’m…not sure what you mean.”
“I think you are,” replied Molly with the unshakeable confidence of the Fae.
Vivian didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. After a few moments, Molly glanced at the closed door. They could still hear the vehement discussion taking place in the living room, though the others had lowered their voices enough that Vivian couldn’t make out individual words anymore.
“What time is the meeting?” she asked softly to fill the quiet.
“An hour after dusk, but it’s a rather remote location, probably near where Corsica is keeping the bone sorcerer,” said Molly. “Thank you for allowing us to use your car.”
“Ross should be getting a new one soon,” said Vivian with a shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”
“All the same, I would have had to run for an hour to get to the meeting location,” said Molly. “I appreciate not having to do that.”
Vivian chuckled. “Well, just make sure you bring my car back intact, because I definitely can’t run for an hour. Okay, maybe I could, if I really needed to, but I have to go to the shop tomorrow and I can’t really run over the bridge to get into the city.” She waggled the fingers of her good hand. “Laws against it and stuff.”
“I’d like to see your coffee shop,” said Molly. “It sounds charming.”
“Oh.” Vivian found herself surprised again. Ross must have told the others about Adele’s, though she couldn’t remember when Ross and Molly had ever spoken directly before the events of the afternoon. “Yeah, of course. Have you ever been to New Orleans? I have to drive in to look at the books for this quarter before our accountant verifies them, you can come along…if you’d like,” she added.
“I’m no good at math, but I’d love to see the city,” said Molly with a smile, and Vivian felt a little better.
“Well,” said Molly, standing and peering into the seam between the window and the blinds. “I’d better start preparing for this meeting.”
Vivian folded her legs under herself as she sat by Ramel’s bed. “I’ve got it. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not going to,” replied Molly with a half-smile as she picked up a black leather belt from the floor where she’d laid out all her clothes in neatly folded rows. Vivian watched her slide a short sword onto the belt and buckle it about her waist.
“Corsica didn’t say to come unarmed?” she asked, unable to resist the tug of curiosity.
“No,” replied Molly as she slid a dagger into a hidden sheath at the top of her boot. “Probably because she has no intention of abiding by her own rules.”
“I mean, I think she’s a little crazy,” said Vivian.
Molly’s humorless grin sent goose bumps down her spine.
“I’m a little crazy, too, so we’re a good match,” said the half-Fae woman. Vivian wondered whether the strange light in her eyes was from the rays of the sunset seeping through the blinds or something else.
After a long moment contemplating that question, Vivian said lamely, “Well, be safe.”
But Molly didn’t mock her. She nodded and walked over to Ramel, kneeling to press a kiss to the Unseelie Knight’s forehead. When the door closed behind her, Farin broke the silence with a rapturous sigh.
“I never thought that I would approve of a romance between Fae and human,” she told Vivian in a confessional tone. “But seeing them together has changed my mind.”
Vivian smiled. “Farin, you didn’t strike me as a hopeless romantic.”
The Glasidhe warrior drew herself up to her full height
indignantly. “I am neither hopeless nor a romantic, Lady Vivian.”
“Well, you were just sighing like one,” Vivian pointed out with a chuckle.
“Am I not allowed to make logical observations?” said Farin with a flick of her wings.
“If that’s what you want to call them,” replied Vivian.
“I am logical and I made an observation,” said Farin with a hint of haughtiness. “So yes, that is what they should be called.” Her wings fluttered in agitation and her aura sparked, though she’d been dimming it in the shadowy room so as to not disturb Ramel. “Hopeless romantic,” she repeated with a sniff.
Vivian couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. “I’m sorry, Farin, I didn’t mean to offend you. You are a very fierce warrior. I’m only a human, so sometimes I don’t understand what isn’t polite.”
Farin leapt off the desk and flew over to Vivian, landing lightly on her shoulder. Vivian stiffened at the feel of small feet and the brush of wings against her neck. She held carefully still as Farin patted her ear with a tiny hand.
“You are not only a human, Lady Vivian,” the Glasidhe said. “You are a Fae-friend, now and always, and perhaps more.” She hummed to herself. “Only time will tell.”
Vivian swallowed and nodded carefully. Happiness fizzed in her chest at the trusting, casual contact with the Glasidhe as Farin settled onto her shoulder, sitting with her back against the curve of Vivian’s neck, one of her small feet settling lightly on Vivian’s collarbone for added balance.
“Fae-friend,” Vivian repeated quietly. She liked the sound of it, even if she wasn’t entirely sure everything that entailed. Farin began to sing a lovely, lilting song in her own language, her voice quiet but still true as a bell, and Vivian felt the fizz of happiness resolve into a warm glow of contentment as she settled down to watch over the Unseelie Knight.
As the light slanted golden and then dimly red through the blinds, Farin sang and Vivian practiced summoning her taebramh. She didn’t actually create the fireball, but she pulled the blue fire from behind her heart and slid it down her arm to her palm. She could see it pulsing in her wrist, and then she’d slide it back up her arm and down again into the swirling mass of fire that beat in time with her heart. It was like flexing a muscle she hadn’t known she possessed. After a dozen repetitions, she blinked and relaxed, releasing her concentration. She realized that Farin had fallen silent.
