by Jocelyn Fox
Calliea cursed under her breath. Kyrim banked a tight circle around Guinna, but the baying hounds were closing fast, and the winged faehal couldn’t maintain flight without moving. With Guinna still lying on the ground, defending her from the air would be difficult. Calliea heard the Glasidhe’s shrill voice ordering the Unseelie woman to get back on her feet, but a quick glance showed her that the small woman hadn’t managed to stand yet.
“Ground it is then, my lad,” she said to Kyrim, who snorted in agreement. He wheeled again to face the hounds and folded his wings, his great hooves hitting the ground just as the first hound parted the long grass, its great white teeth bared in anticipation. Calliea unfurled her whip as Kyrim reared and struck the hound with one of his forelegs. She leaned to the right and sent her whip snaking around the hound closest to Guinna, catching one of its hind legs. She heard the bone snap as she heaved sharply on her whip, the hound yelping as Kyrim pirouetted and the sharp movement dragged the hound across the ground. With a flick of her wrist, Calliea untangled her whip as Kyrim surged forward, leaping to cut off the last hound as it stalked Guinna, who had finally regained her feet.
“Back!” commanded Calliea, a lash of her whip slicing through the grass directly in front of the hound. It snarled defiantly and Kyrim whinnied in challenge, arching his neck and pawing at the ground.
“Get on!” Calliea yelled at the Unseelie woman, holding out her free hand but keeping her eyes on the hound. After what seemed like an eternity, a smaller hand clasped hers and she pulled the smaller woman up onto Kyrim’s back in front of her.
As soon as Kyrim felt the weight of the woman on his back, he charged the hound, which dodged aside at the last second and whirled to pursue the galloping faehal. Calliea manhandled the Unseelie woman into a better position, grimacing as the woman’s long hair flew into her face. She unclipped one of her safety straps, looped it through the woman’s belt and clipped it back to the silver ring on her own harness. It pulled them uncomfortably close, but at least the smaller woman couldn’t just slide off Kyrim’s back when they were a fatal distance from the ground.
Calliea turned her attention to the hound that had caught up to Kyrim. She snapped it in the face with her whip and it turned aside with a yelp. A feeling of satisfaction warmed her as she retrieved the length of her whip, holding it coiled against her hip as Kyrim leapt from the ground and launched them into the air with powerful strokes of his great wings. The Unseelie woman – Guinna, Calliea reminded herself – shuddered as they climbed higher into the sky. Calliea thought that Guinna was shaking with relief until the other woman leaned over and retched. Calliea winced. Afraid of heights, then, or perhaps just overwhelmed with the experience.
The Glasidhe that had flown to warn Calliea huddled against Guinna’s neck, holding onto the Unseelie woman’s ear and hair for security. Calliea thought about trying to converse with them, especially as they reached the higher vault of the sky where only the wind and the sound of their own breath and Kyrim’s wings disturbed the silence. But the Unseelie woman kept shivering and retching to one side even when nothing else remained in her slim frame, and the Glasidhe looked to be in almost as bad of shape, curling miserably against Guinna’s neck and hiding beneath the Unseelie woman’s dark hair.
Kyrim stayed at a lower altitude than he typically enjoyed, but he didn’t restrain his speed. In less than an hour, they had covered the distance back to the great cathedral. Calliea refused to use the time to question herself. She’d done what had to be done. And besides, as the rush of confronting Mab’s hounds ebbed away, her whole body ached and tiredness began to pull at her limbs. Merrick and the Vyldretning would probably have some choice words for her. She wasn’t sure if they would be angrier at her taking Kyrim for a flight so soon after being released from the healing ward, or for her rescue of the Unseelie woman from the great black hounds.
Her body felt numb as Kyrim began the long, gently banking circles that spiraled them lower and lower toward the ground. She felt Guinna’s body heave again, but the Unseelie woman only grabbed a handful of Kyrim’s mane and cross her other arm over her stomach.
Sure enough, Calliea saw Merrick waiting by the paddock, speaking to one of the other Valkyrie who was pulling on her flying harness. He didn’t look angry, though, his slender body relaxed as he gestured to something on the Valkyrie’s harness. They’d all constructed their own gear a bit differently, so he was probably pointing out something different from Calliea’s harness.
“Kyrim is very good at landing,” she said to Guinna in what she tried to make a reassuring tone, but it just came out tired, and the Unseelie woman didn’t relax at all as the ground rushed up to meet them. Kyrim set them down delicately, flicking his tail as he smoothly transitioned into a canter and then slowed to a trot, then a walk.
The Unseelie woman lunged for the ground as soon as Kyrim came to a stop, but she hadn’t counted on the safety strap clipping her to Calliea’s harness. Calliea gritted her teeth as the woman’s movement jerked her to the side, but her hands found the release of that strap quickly. She knew her flight gear as well as her weapons, and she unclipped the dangling Unseelie woman from her harness without having to look. Guinna stumbled as her feet hit the ground, but she didn’t fall.
That’s right, only fall when the hounds are after you, Calliea thought unkindly, exhaustion settling over her like a lead cloak.
“Should I call Maeve?” Merrick asked as he walked toward her. He looked at the Unseelie woman and stopped, blinking.
“I’m fine,” Calliea said woodenly, though she wasn’t sure she could unfasten her safety harness with her shaking hands. The other Valkyrie, a golden-haired woman with a scar bisecting one eye from the battle over the White City, wordlessly strode over, gave Kyrim a pat and began to unbuckle Calliea’s harness.
When Calliea slid down from Kyrim’s back, the other Valkyrie kept a firm hand beneath her elbow until she was steady. “Thank you, Trillian,” she said in a low voice.
“Want me to take care of Kyrim?” Trillian asked.
Calliea shook her head with a hint of a smile. “No matter how tired, still my responsibility.”
Trillian flashed her a grin. “Aye, captain.” She glanced over at Merrick and the Unseelie woman, turning her head so that she could see them with her good eye. The healers had saved her slashed eye, but her blue iris had frosted over with a silvery film as it mended. Trillian had told Calliea that she saw strange shadows on that side.
“Seems like they know each other,” Trillian commented musingly. The two dark-haired Sidhe spoke in low, intense voices, tall Merrick leaning down slightly to listen to small, slender Guinna.
Calliea ignored the irrational stab of jealousy that Merrick had so easily shifted his attention to Guinna and forgotten her. “It would make sense,” she managed. “Merrick was Unseelie before he was Vyldgard.”
Trillian raised her eyebrows at Calliea’s tacit confirmation that the woman was Unseelie. Calliea moved over to Kyrim and began unfastening the buckles that held the harness to his back. He tossed his mane and pranced a little as she lifted the harness, straps dangling, from his back.
“Looks like you flew hard,” said Trillian neutrally, glancing at Calliea.
“Mab’s hounds were hunting her,” Calliea replied.
Trillian pressed her mouth into a hard line and shook her head. “May I help in any other way, Captain?”
Calliea let her mind sort through the possibilities. “If you would finish your flight with a quick survey of the borders of the City, that would put my mind at ease.” She paused. “And pass the word to any other riders taking their mounts up for a flight.”
“Would you like to establish a formal patrol?” asked Trillian, her good eye brightening. The contrast in her gaze, sapphire against opal, made it all the more piercing.
“No.” Calliea shook her head. “Nothing…formal.”
“Aye, captain,” said Trillian, but her strides took on a new sense of purpose
as she walked back toward her mount.
With Merrick still engaged deeply in conversation with Guinna, Calliea turned back to Kyrim. “Come on then, lad. Let’s get you cleaned up. You deserve a good rubdown with some warm water. I think I’ll head in that direction shortly, too.”
She kept one hand on her warhorse’s neck as they walked back toward the paddock, thinking uncharitably that Kyrim’s unquestionable loyalty eclipsed Merrick’s commitment at the moment. She took a deep breath and forced herself not to glance over at them as she gathered a bucket and grooming tools from the bin beside the paddocks. She’d done what she had to do – who in their right mind would leave anyone to be hunted like an animal, run down by Queen Mab’s hounds? All the same, she hoped that her good deed wouldn’t explode messily in her face. Her side ached and she used her opposite arm to carry the bucket with steaming water over to Kyrim. He flicked his tail and lowered his head, his eyes half-lidded in bliss as she bathed him with the soft cloth and hot water.
“You did well today,” she murmured to him as she cleaned the lather from his flanks, ducking down under his wings to groom his belly. He huffed in agreement and lipped her shoulder, eking out a grin despite her tiredness. She’d face the fallout of the rescue later, she decided, instead focusing on the simple pleasure of grooming her magnificent winged mount, thinking only of the future missions that would take them soaring into the reaches of the sky.
Chapter 25
Vivian’s phone chimed with an alert, breaking her concentration. She sighed as the little ball of blue light in her palm winked out like a snuffed candle. She really needed to remember to put her phone on silent before practicing her taebramh summoning.
“Well, I’m already back to square one, might as well see who it is,” she reasoned aloud as she reached for the phone. She sighed again as she read the text message.
“Everything all right?” said Ross from the chair in the other corner of the living room.
“Just Alex,” said Vivian.
“So that’s a ‘no,’” Ross said, marking her place in her paperback with one finger and raising her eyebrows at Vivian.
“Since Tyr rode along with us to pick up my Jeep, he’s been kind of…weird.”
“Do you think that maybe he sees Tyr as a rival for your affections?”
“First of all, Alex doesn’t think of me that way, and second of all, I don’t think of Tyr that way,” Vivian replied hotly. She felt the blush rushing into her face and hoped that Ross didn’t take that as an admission of guilt on either count.
“You’re blushing,” Ross observed, “and that means that either Alex does think of you ‘that way’ – ” Ross traced quotation marks in the air with her first two fingers – “or you do think of Tyr ‘that way.’”
“Thanks for breaking out the air punctuation,” Vivian retorted dryly. She sat back against the couch and raised her chin challengingly. “Just because I blush doesn’t mean anything. You should know that by now.”
Ross chuckled. “No, what I know by now is that when you blush it usually means you’re trying to dance around something you don’t want me to know.”
“My life is not subject to your approval,” said Vivian.
Ross looked a little surprised. “I know that. I’m just…”
“No.” Vivian cut her off, not caring that it was rude. “Sometimes you don’t know that, Ross. I mean, really. I get it, you have the protector instincts, we’ve gone over this before…but sometimes it would be easier if you didn’t try to stick your nose into everything.”
She grabbed her phone and stood, ignoring Ross’s sigh and carefully measured attempt to smooth things over: “Vivian, please just sit down. I was only trying to have a conversation.”
Vivian didn’t bother replying as she padded down the hallway toward her room. She wasn’t even angry, just vaguely annoyed that Ross felt entitled to pry. Tyr looked up as she pushed open the door. His luminous gray eyes filled with a silent question.
“Ross sticking her nose into things,” Vivian said. She tossed her phone onto the bed. Ross and Duke had suggested more than once that Tyr should sleep somewhere other than Vivian’s room, but with Niall in the study with Ramel and the Glasidhe there as well, Vivian didn’t think it fair to have a room to herself. Besides, she felt more secure with Tyr nearby, especially at night. He’d established the fact that he considered it his duty to protect her as part of their…relationship. She winced as she used the word in her head, and then quickly calmed her mind as she felt the courteous nudge of Tyr’s consciousness. She opened the channel for their silent communication.
I believe Ross is concerned for you, Tyr said.
“Yes, but it’s still annoying,” muttered Vivian. She sat on the bed and crossed her legs. “I almost wish something would happen. All this waiting around is…weird.”
Tyr smiled. You think it is always excitement and adventure when the Fae are involved?
“To an extent, yes,” she confessed. “After Molly left to join Corsica and the bone sorcerer, it just seems strange that nothing has happened.”
Just because nothing has happened to us does not mean that nothing has happened, Tyr pointed out.
Vivian pressed her lips together. “I don’t know if this is rude, but whatever, I’ll ask. I’ve been thinking. Since Corsica left, you seem much more…” She searched for the word. “Composed?”
You mean something more like sane, the white-haired Exile replied.
“Yes. Were you…helping her?”
Tyr looked away, his eyes veiled and his beautiful, savaged face dappled by shadows. Yes. I have helped Corsica keep what remains of her mind for the better part of two centuries now.
Vivian swallowed. “So, what’s happening to her now that you’re not helping her?”
Our bond is not so easily severed, Tyr replied enigmatically, lifting one shoulder in semblance of a shrug. But I can only do so much when she does not want me to help her anymore. He pressed one silver-scarred hand to his leg.
“Still hurting?” she asked.
He shook his head. I am fine.
“That’s not what I asked,” she said in gentle remonstrance.
Tyr lifted his eyes in what she thought might have been surprise. He held very still for a moment and then he nodded once. Yes. The wound still aches. But pain means that I am still alive.
“You’re not the first person who’s used that as an excuse not to be honest about how much you’re hurting,” Vivian said, raising an eyebrow. “Once, during the fire academy, Ross fell from halfway up the ladder practicing a drill after class. She didn’t tell anyone and toughed it out. Turns out she cracked a couple of ribs and she made it to the end of that week, but guess who had to take care of her that weekend?”
You, no doubt, Tyr answered seriously. He tilted his head to one side. I take your point. I will certainly inform you if I am in need of help.
“Somehow I’m not entirely reassured, but I’ll take it,” Vivian said.
How is your Paladin training progressing? Tyr asked.
“Slowly,” groaned Vivian. “Most of the time I feel like I should be able to pick things up faster, learn them faster…and it’s frustrating.”
You are fully mortal, even with your lineage, said Tyr. You are learning through sheer force of will and discipline. It will be slow at first. But oftentimes hard work outweighs natural talent.
Tyr’s words ignited a little glow of warmth in Vivian’s chest. “Thank you for the encouragement.”
I am only pointing out what any experienced teacher would tell their pupil, Tyr replied.
Vivian couldn’t decide if that was a subtle dig at Niall, but she felt the compulsion to defend the Seelie man anyway. She didn’t think Tyr had the right to critique her teacher, no matter how indirect and elegant the insult. “Niall is a very good teacher. He’s…very patient.”
Tyr’s voice in her head lowered in the way it did when Tyr was almost talking to himself. Perhaps too patient.
&
nbsp; “I think that’s because I’m so slow,” protested Vivian. Why was everyone being so difficult this afternoon?
Tyr looked at her and said deliberately, You are not slow. You are mortal. There is a difference.
Vivian shook her head, at a loss for words.
I could teach you, Tyr said, studying a shadow in the corner of the room.
“I…don’t think that’s a good idea,” Vivian said weakly. The quick, excited jolt in her chest undermined her attempt to be firm.
Why not? You may continue your lessons with Niall as you see fit, Tyr said, shrugging one shoulder again as was his habit. Vivian shivered as he locked gazes with her again. You will be the first Paladin in almost five hundred years. The Paladins were banished soon before I was, under the guise of protecting our world from their influence.
Am I being trained to become something that’s still outlawed? Vivian switched almost unconsciously to silent conversation. She didn’t want to chance anyone overhearing them.
There is a Bearer again, and an ulfdrengr was crowned High Queen, said Tyr. Many things have changed since I was cast out.
So, you don’t know, and neither does Niall, Vivian said. The realization dropped into her stomach like cold ice water. Could you be…going against the law, I guess, by teaching me?
Tyr flicked one hand dismissively. There is no law that binds me anymore. I will teach whom I please. The Seelie Knight would probably explain it as necessity to continue his mission here in Doendhtalam.
And what would you explain it as? Vivian asked. She didn’t really understand why, but her chest tightened with anticipation as she asked the question.
Tyr leaned toward her, a strange light shining in his eyes, his face at once mischievous and deadly serious. Part of Vivian thrilled to it and part of her shivered at the predatory gleam in his gaze.
I would explain it as indulging my desire to imbue someone unexpected with all my powerful knowledge, he said, his voice low and sinuous in her head. Then he leaned back and tilted his head. And it would be a shame if you were killed because you could not defend yourself. You are a pretty little thing, as far as mortals go.
