Reign of Rebels (Half-Blood Huntress Chronicles Book 4)

by D. D. Miers

  “How long will he be in there?” Tryst was whispering, but somehow, his voice broke through my focus enough for me to realize he was asking me.

  "Until I feel no pain until his heart and lungs are working in a rhythm I recognize. The plants will know. The goddess will release him when she's ready."

  “Are you speaking in the third person, or do you really believe some goddess is healing him? Because I’ve been alive long enough to remember who the gods really are.” He pinched my arm like I was still in a daze.

  "Ow. Neither, okay? In the Goddess' time is a saying among my human family. It just means it's done when it's done and worrying about when it doesn't, isn't going to make that happen sooner."

  “Uh huh.”

  “I remember when I thought your mirror worship wasn’t literal, too.”

  He rocked back on his heels. “I know you don’t want to be with me, and I can’t even fathom a reality where the goblins were a more palatable choice. But your hesitation almost got Gray killed. You must choose one of us. Or, I hate to say it, one of the sycophants currently licking your father’s slippers. If you want Gray safe, you’ve got to leave him.”

  “I hate you right now.”

  “Only because I’m right.”

  I sat cross-legged on the pavement and waited for Gray, but I knew Tryst was right. The only thing in the whole world that I wanted was curled up in the fetal position in a magic pod waiting to be rebirthed. When he was, could I put him in harm’s way again?

  We didn’t have to wait long for the answer. By the time Tryst was pacing and muttering to himself again, the pod was weakening and the plants withering away. As the magic melted away in the cracks from the roots, Gray was left in a heap on the smelly concrete.

  “Did I just get dumped out of a giant seed pod?”

  I blinked and cleared my throat. “Maybe.”

  “Huh. Well, now I know what it’s like. I was a little curious.” He chuckled and inhaled deeply. “I feel pretty damn good.” He stretched, cat-like, arching his back and lengthening his arms. “You should do that for me more often.”

  He chuckled, but I couldn't find the humor in it. Like a child, I sat on the broken alley floor and cried. Huge, body-wracking sobs shook me to my core, and I buried my head in my hands. I could feel Grays' warm hands on my shoulders, pulling me into his lap where he could cradle me until the crying jag wore itself out and my breathing was no longer coming in painful, strangled gasps.

  “It’s okay, baby. I’m sorry for coming out alone. I smelled something and thought I’d just stick my head out the back door to make sure it wasn’t a new attack.”

  "You, you could've died. You would have if I hadn't come looking for you."

  He held me tighter and kissed my temple. “That’s why we work so well together, Mo. It’s okay.”

  “No. I was looking for you to tell you I’d made my choice, but then…Gray, I can’t be the reason you die. We’ve fought powerful enemies before, but never anyone who could bring you so close to true death.”

  “At least you didn’t have to use Hunter blood to save me,” he quipped, then groaned as I tilted my head to meet his gaze.

  “Well, not directly, if it makes you feel better. The plants, they drank all the blood. Yours, the hunter’s, it all went into the magic.” I pushed away from him. “But you still almost died, because I was unwilling to make an alliance the Dark Fae would respect. I can’t let that happen to you.

  “Morgana…”

  “I will always love you, Grayson. I have had you in my heart since the first moment I realized you weren’t going to eat me.”

  He sighed. “It was touch and go for a bit…sometimes I’m still not sure how it’s going to end.” When I glared at him, he chuckled and pulled me against his chest again. “C’mon, Mo. Don’t give up on us now.”

  “I’m not giving up on us, Gray. I just want you to live for a long time and have babies that you teach to run and hunt and to love good traditions.” I struggled out of his lap and brushed off my pants. “I’m going to tell them that I will marry Tryst. The goblins don’t want to be tied to Fae tradition, and once we defeat Lothar, it will join our courts.” I scoffed, “I’ll actually be useful to the Fae for a moment…They won’t remember nearly as long as they will all the times that I was a frustration.”

  I kissed him on the forehead and ran my fingers through his hair, fresh tears I thought I’d already cried out stinging the insides of my eyelids. Tryst saw my face and, to his credit, tried to hide his ebullience at what he knew was his victory.

  “Don’t look so damned pleased with yourself, Broker. It’s what you do, after all…push people until they have no choice but to”

  “Marry the shifter and tell the world to fuck itself,” Gray finished before I could announce my surrender. “Sorry, mate. I guess I get to wear the, uh, ‘cat that got the cream’ face.”

  I spluttered out a protest, but Grayson ignored me, hefting me into his arms and carrying me toward the open back door to the club.

  “You’re an idiot, Grayson. What if you are killed next time?”

  “Then I will have lived exactly as I wanted to live and died the same way.”

  “And you will die.” Tryst had fallen back into his near-permanent scowl. “You will die, horribly, and since Morgan doesn’t know how to stay out of a fight, she’ll get to see it up close and personal…if she hasn’t already gotten herself killed in the name of her pride.”

  “Fuck, you’re a charming bastard, aren’t you, Tryst?”

  Komodor finally strode over to us, one of his soldiers reporting as they approached. “Ignore the Fae. He never got over the realization that he wasn’t the only dick worth riding in Arcadia…or out of it, apparently,” the goblin smirked. “The Ufasach bas are after you with a determination that can only mean Lothar had declared his intention to make you his.”

  "Or Tryst is right, and someone in my father's court is a traitor."

  One of the dancers poked his head out the door, and I jumped out of Gray's arms, crimson climbing into my face. The dancer winked at me and called Tryst over, whispering just inside the club, out of sight, and out of my hearing, at least.

  When he returned, his face was sober, all hurt feelings gone, as though he'd packaged them up and put them away for later. As though he really hadn't been upset by my choice at all. I watched him, wondering if I'd ever really know what he thought, or whose side he was really on, other than his own.

  If he were human, I could never have let him take a position of power over others. But among the Fae, everything about him that bothered me the most was on the list of ‘how to survive living among the High Fae.'

  I couldn’t say, which was worse, knowing he was a monster, or knowing that made him a perfect fit for the Unseelie Sidhe.

  Twelve

  “Look Tryst, you know I’m right.” Gray leaned over the desk at the broker as the staff cleaned around us. We were back in Tryst’s office, and he and Grayson were going rounds, again, about me…as usual.

  “I know no such thing, panther-boy.”

  “If she marries me, the pack must protect her, and her allies. You get more than just me and Niall for your little coup.”

  “I’d have them all anyway if you were a real leader.”

  I watched Gray’s back tense, then relax again. “Only the Fae think so little of their people that they don’t allow them the freedom to choose their battles. My people aren’t at war. I won’t force them to go. But tradition demands that when the alpha or his queen go to battle, the bravest join them.”

  Komodor leaned over and stage whispered loud enough for the bartender’s downstairs to hear him. “Those two should just marry each other. They fight like my wife and did after the first hundred years.”

  I snorted at the thought. “How’d you stop?”

  “I cut out her tongue and ate it in front of her.”

  His face was so blasé, I couldn't tell if he was kidding. The High Fae told stories abo
ut the goblins that could make your blood curdle in its veins. "What did she cut off as revenge?"

  He held up his arm, showing me a length of green, gangrenous looking muscle. “Every year on our anniversary she attacks me. But then she’s silent for another twelve months, and so far, it has been worth it for the silence.”

  “Thank you for reiterating why I didn’t choose to live among the goblins, Your Highness.”

  He threw back his head and roared in laughter, slapping me on the back hard enough that I grabbed the arms of the chair to keep from falling out. “You are stronger than the Light Court, but you would not have survived becoming a goblin.”

  “According to everyone, of every faction, I won’t survive no matter what I choose. And yet I’m standing, and my attackers keep falling.”

  He laughed again, and I braced for another shoulder-numbing blow that, thankfully, never came. Instead, I glanced up to see both Grayson and Tryst staring at me like I’d interrupted something important.

  “What?”

  Gray folded his arms and Tryst scoffed. “I pointed out to Alpha Xenos that he failed to let you speak. You made a choice, so let’s hear it. You name your choice and he, we, must abide by it.”

  I swallowed hard, staring up at Grayson’s pleading face. He glared at me with a ‘don’t be an idiot’ scowl furrowing his forehead, arms crossed tight, his back to Tryst as though the broker couldn’t tell how worried he was just by looking at his body.

  “If I choose you and the pack, Gray, you’re all fair game.”

  He nodded. "If you don't, you lose the support of the pack. I won't force them to fight in a war; they don't have a stake in."

  Behind him, Tryst scoffed, as though Gray was telling me to choose him or fuck myself. As if Tryst had ever been loyal to me, or to my causes. He’d sold me out to wizards and practically handed me over to a halfling witch like myself who betrayed me. He’d try to bargain for my power so he could sneak back into Fairy, even though it would’ve been a death sentence for me if he was caught. Tryst cared about Tryst…and sometimes his sister. I was just a toy to him. Occasionally he tossed me aside, and if he was really bored or irritable, would try to tear my legs off.

  But with him, I experienced the full power of sex among my kind, power that touched every cell in my body and made me glow like the moon. With Gray, I made love but knew he always held back because of his beast.

  Are you really making this choice about where you have better sex? I started to argue with the voice in my head, but stopped when I realized it was my own, not Caorach putting in her two cents. Great. Now you can’t even tell the difference between your own conscience and a demon-blade.

  “I know what you’re saying, but if you marry me, you could be attacked by the pack. I don’t know if you’re powerful enough to fight all the challengers who would assault you at once, and if I stepped in to help, they’d throw you out of the pack for that, too.

  “They must follow, and enough of the pack support the decision to make you more than an honorary member, that I wouldn’t fight alone. For once, Morgan…Trust me, please? Just this once, don’t give the Fae more respect than you do me, and remember that the only reason you keep assuming they know more than us is because they’re old.”

  “Right, they know because they’ve seen it.”

  "No. They're just old. Their wars brought the dark ages to humanity, and they didn't learn a thing, except to stay away from humans. Just think of what they could've done to make this existence better, safer, more beautiful if they were capable of learning from their mistakes."

  Komodor harrumphed. "You can't fix pride, Alpha cat. The Fae struggle is a monster of their own making that lives mostly in their own minds.

  “What of you, King?” Gray countered. “Are you wise enough to retain a worthwhile alliance if you don’t get a foot in the door to the Light Court throne?”

  The goblin's face twisted in disgust. "There is no beauty for me in Arcadia. My people want their freedom and the deep places. We don't care what you overlanders do. But you are right. The shifters have been good fighters, and the princess has thus far kept her word. That is enough for us. Stay with your mate, girl. No other man offering to take you on wants you as much as he wants your crown."

  I joined Gray at the desk, leaning forward like he’d been doing to put my face closer to Tryst’s. “I choose Gray, Tryst. I choose to marry him, and I will be watching for any sign of betrayal from you. I’m about to give you a kingdom or die trying. If that isn't good enough for you to finally be loyal to the people who have called you a friend…" I threw up my hands and stepped back. "If you can't accept that what we're trying to do for you, at great personal expense, is not ‘enough,' then fuck you. I'm through being manipulated into position by you so you can stand back and watch the dominos fall.

  He blinked fast, his hands folded on the desk blotter so tight his pale knuckles went from white to almost purple. “Do what you must, Morgan. I am what I am, and you’re a few centuries too late to mold me into a better man. But I know you are honest and despite the bad opinion you’re always eager to share with me, you trust me enough to risk lives to give me a kingdom. I will not betray you, at least not for this endeavor.”

  I knew, or at least I thought I knew he was being facetious because I’d stung his pride. But if he would stand by my choice, we might just all get through this alive.

  Gray put his arm around me as I looked at the two unlikely allies that held our lives in their hands. Komodor, while ugly and indelicate in his manners and opinions, was forthright, and his redcaps were nearly immortal, as proven again by the soldier who’d managed to execute two of the Ufasach bas and live to tell the tale.

  So, as usual, Tryst remained the wild card. It dawned on me that his impulsive nature might be out of his control. He no longer needed to broker power for favors, I’d felt the hum of his own magic as it returned, subtly coaxing people to throw more money on the stage, buy more drinks, and party like they’d just found a tween place between Fairy and the mortal world.

  Hell, he even has a magic portal.

  "I choose you, Gray. Overall the magic, and all the power, and all the promises of safety, I choose you. Whatever comes. Okay?"

  He kissed me on the temple, the pulse in his wrist pounding against my skin like we were just a normal couple, and he’d made it through a regular old, run of the mill proposal to his girlfriend. Just like that, I knew that for him, the situation was only an excuse, and the proposal was what was real.

  Because he loved me, not the princess, not the power, but the woman I was. Yet everything else, everything that had kept me from having a family who loved me, or a people who claimed me, was part of the package too. The part that made being with me a risk to his safety.

  “Stop worrying so much, Mo. Do I ever do anything, without a plan?”

  Thirteen

  I pushed the plate holding what was left of my fries across the laminate table to Prescot and gave Grayson my full attention. He picked at my leftovers and gently kicked the metal post that anchored the table to the floor, waiting for Gray to finish what he was saying. It was weird to see a sixteen-year-old who still seemed so childlike after taking care of my Fae kids.

  With a little wave, I called the waitress back over to add a second chocolate shake to his supper. I know shifters, and he wasn’t eating enough to make me feel comfortable that he could handle a change if it was necessary.

  “Okay, what’s the plan, Gray?” I asked the moment the bouncy young server headed away from the table.

  “We go to the aged one and get her to handfast us. No one can question her authority in the pack. If she blesses us, the pack must accept you.”

  “Why? Who is she, and why don’t I know her already?”

  “She’s, she’s like the spiritual leader of the pack. She was the queen, and then the queen mother, and now she’s quietly living out her life in a little house on the water.”

  “And who is she?”


  “Her name is Eloise Masters, and she’s what we call, the Jord Bjorn, or Mother Bear.”

  Prescot swallowed hard and stared at Gray, his eyes like saucers. “We’re gonna go see the Jord Bjorn? Damn.”

  "She can help gain Morgan, the support of the final members of the pack. She's ancient, and according to Gideon, she's got witch magic." Gray rubbed his hands together. "But there's a little snag in getting to her."

  I took a breath and counted slowly. “A, why am I not surprised. B, what’s the snag?”

  “We need the witches to get us to her. Gideon had them put all kinds of spells, wards, whatever, on her home to keep her in, and others out.”

  Because that's just the way, our lives go. Gideon had been a powerful alpha who probably expected a long life. But when he was assassinated by forces beyond him, and almost beyond Gray and I, in the end, he'd left a lot of loose ends for his successor, and they seem to crop up at the most inopportune times.

  A rock settled into my stomach as I forced my self to ask, “who set the wards for him?”

  Gray's look of apology was all I needed. My estranged aunt was the head of the coven, more powerful than she ever had been when she was my jailer and gleeful executor of my personal hell. We'd saved her life, and she might have been grateful if in doing so we hadn't exposed her daughter's hate and bigotry. With my cousin on the run from her and the coven, I didn't think Portia MacSolais was going to have a whole lot of motivation to help if I was involved.

  “How do you go to see her? Why haven’t you told me about her before?”

  “She’s a shifter, Mo. She made the decision to live and die alone, and we respect that. The witches assured us the wards would fall and we would be alerted if something happened to her, but I haven’t seen her since I told her that her grandson had been murdered.”

  Gideon's grandmother. That meant she was well over a hundred if Gideon had been almost eighty when he'd been killed. Shifters might be mortal, but they age well. It made me wonder if Grayson had told me the truth about his age, or if he just looked in his thirties, and he was really pushing the golden years, himself.