She really wished they’d let Ric accompany her. It was hard to maintain a mad when she missed him so desperately after only a minute. She was a big girl, had been on her own for a long time and was a fully functional, independent human being, damn it. So why did she feel so lost without him beside her? Probably because she had come to think of him as her guide through all the insanity. He was her anchor, her one link to what she still thought of as the real world. Without him, she was truly alone in a place she didn't understand.
“This is your apartment, my lady.” The elven woman had stopped in front of a door covered in intricately carved rosebushes. The petals were overlaid with rosetinted gold leaf, while the leaves appeared to be verdigris, either oxidized copper or bronze.
She reached out to touch it, but instinctively pulled back, as if waiting for the museum guard to growl at her.
She’d always had the urge to touch works of art, as if she could somehow absorb a sense of the artist’s genius through her fingertips. Who knew? She had all sorts of powers she knew nothing about. Maybe she had always been a touch psychometric and she’d never known. More likely it was just a whimsical feeling of connecting to the past.
Eada must have seen her hesitation, because she smiled.
“It is your door, my lady. You may touch it all you like.”
Of course it was. Meagan grimaced. And she had to remember she was in a place where mind reading was a matter of course. Hastily she re-erected the shields Blaine had taught her about earlier. The older woman didn’t seem to notice; she opened the door and motioned for Meagan to precede her inside.
“Your father was like that as a child. Always needed to touch everything he saw. I think he was able to read past emotions from the object, link himself to those who had touched it before.”
“Oh.” So apparently she had inherited that trait from him, along with her red hair and green eyes. She tilted her head and looked back. “You knew my father?”
The older elf stepped into the foyer behind Meagan and closed the door. The carvings were echoed on this side, as well, Meagan noted absently, her attention fixed mainly on the woman.
“Well, of course I did,” Eada replied. “Didn’t they tell you? I’ve been housekeeper for the family Rose for almost fifteen hundred years. I held your father in my arms the day he was born.” She burst into tears.
Meagan had no idea what to do. So she followed her instincts. She dropped her purse and wrapped her arms around the sobbing woman. Eada was taller than Meagan, but felt thin and frail. Meagan was afraid to squeeze, concerned she might accidentally break something. The servant obviously felt no such qualms. She hunched over to gather Meagan close and hugged her till Meagan couldn’t breathe.
“You’re so much like her,” the older lady sobbed. “But with his hair and eyes. We’ve waited so long, my lady, but we never gave up hope that one day you’d be found.”
We? Meagan glanced behind her and saw that several other elves had gathered in the room from elsewhere in the apartment.
The one in the center was a male, tall and thin like the other elves she'd met, but like the woman in Meagan’s arms, also older. He caught her gaze and bowed.
“Theobald, my lady. Your butler.” When she smiled helplessly, he came forward and detached the woman, who was now merely sniffling, from her arms. “There, there, dear. Let’s get our lady inside, shall we? Time for the rest later.”
“Of course,” Eada sniffed. The man handed her a handkerchief and she straightened her spine and blew her nose, before flashing Meagan a bright, determined smile.
“So sorry, my lady.”
“No problem,” Meagan assured her. And it wasn’t. Of all the surprises she’d had in the last few days, finding people who had known and apparently loved her natural parents was by far the best. She glanced around the huge, elegant and yet somehow comfortable room. Though this apartment was pretty cool, too. It lacked the baroque feel of the throne room, though it still screamed money and privilege. The rich patinas of natural wood and marble took center stage, while silk and velvet in various shades of rose covered the furnishings. A huge vase of multicolored roses dominated the wall by the door. Beautiful.
“Welcome, my lady.” One by one the others bowed or curtseyed. Meagan didn’t think she’d ever get used to that. But she gave each of them a tentative smile.
“We’re only a skeleton staff, of course,” Theobald informed her. “When the estate is reopened, you will have to hire more.”
“More?” A quick count told her there were seven people present. She didn’t know what she’d do with one servant, other than cleaning this place. What was she supposed to do with more?
“Here are Cian and Mairi, the caretakers for Rosemeade.” One couple bowed. “Liam is the master of stable and hounds.” She smiled back at the man in leather, with work-worn hands. Stable and hounds? She had horses and dogs? Wowsers!
Liam stepped ahead of the line and spoke. “If my lady will forgive me, I brought a pair of the hounds with me. There is some possibility that danger will threaten, and Gondor and Grendl are trained to guard.”
“Okay.” Calc was going to hate this when he showed up, but she wasn't stupid. Guard dogs would definitely help her sleep at night. “Thank you.”
He nodded his head and allowed Theo to introduce the last two individuals.
“Quinn is the captain of your personal guard. He is in charge of security.” Yeah, he looked like a soldier. She hadn’t missed the chain mail shirt or the functionallooking sword at his waist. She smiled and he saluted. God, she had her own army. “And this is Sinead. She was your father’s tutor and has agreed to act as lady’s maid, for the present.”
The last lady looked faintly disapproving, but nodded politely.
Meagan managed what she hoped was a gracious halfsmile in response. She hadn’t watched Pride and Prejudice half a dozen times for nothing.
They all stood staring at her expectantly. Sinead narrowed her gaze a tad. “We’ve all gathered to welcome you to your new home, my lady. Everyone here knew and cared for your father and most of us for his parents before him. A few words from you would be appreciated at this juncture.”
Oh, great, the schoolmarm was at it already.
“Of course,” she replied, trying desperately to think of something to say. Ric’s words from earlier echoed in her brain. Be yourself. So she took a deep breath and let it out slowly before she spoke.
“It really means a lot to me to meet people who knew my biological father. I’ve always wondered about him and now I finally have the chance to find out what he was like. I understand that some of you also met my mother when she was here and I’d love to hear your impressions of her, too.”
So far, so good. “I’m sure you’ve all heard that I only found out about my heritage a few days ago, that until I met Ric and Aidan, I didn’t even know that magic really existed. So this is all awfully new to me. I promise to do my best, but I know I’m going to make mistakes and I’m going to rely on all of you to help me make as few as possible.”
They were smiling. She took another breath and plowed forward. “So I hope you don’t mind a lot of stupid questions and please don’t be afraid to speak out if you see me goofing up. I’m not used to this whole lady thing yet, either, I’m afraid. Now before we go any further I have one really urgent question that I need answered right away.” She turned to Theobald and Eada.
“What is it, my lady?” Eada asked.
“Anything,” Theo assured her in the same breath.
“Where’s the bathroom in this place?”
Ric walked back to his room in a funk. It went totally against the grain to allow Meagan out of his sight.
The room was clean and comfortable, with enough luxury to suit, but without the gilded opulence of most of the palace. It was usually a pleasure to return here after any length of time spent Overhill, so why did it suddenly seem so lonely? Hell, there was only one answer to that and it wasn’t one he even dared to th
ink about.
He walked through the sitting area to the tiny, curtained-off alcove that held his bed and tossed himself, boots and all, onto the mattress. The coverlet was mink, the sheets silk, but it might as well have been a pile of moldy straw for all he cared. Without Meagan beside him, it didn’t feel right. His whole body ached to see her coppery hair spread out across his soft down pillows.
Hell. He had to snap out of this and fast. If he got any more depressed, he was going to start singing the blues at dinner tonight. Wouldn’t that surprise Her Royal Bitchiness? Of course, punk was always good when he was depressed. Maybe he’d crank out a few Sex Pistols or Ramones tunes instead. It was high time someone set these over-bred, self-important twits on their collective pointy ears. Maybe if he did something truly outrageous, they wouldn’t all be watching Meagan, waiting for her to make one wrong step so they could all laugh. That might even be the safest course for Ric himself. Because if they belittled her in front of him, he was liable to take somebody’s head off with his sword. And then the shit would really hit the carved ivory fan.
“Well, boyo, what can you do about it?”
Great, now he was talking to himself. But he was right, he definitely needed a plan.
Time to think strategically. What was the goal?
Protect Meagan.
Definite no-brainer.
Somewhere in the last few days, keeping Meagan safe from harm had become Ric’s first, last and only priority.
But protect her from what?
Duh, from everything. Owain. The queen. Humiliation at the hands of a bunch of supercilious elves. Himself.
Yeah, himself. The last thing she needed right now was to get dragged into his shit. Even if it meant he had to stay apart from her more than he liked.
Okay, that was the objective. What were his resources?
Resource number one: the queen needed Meagan. That was significant, though not without limits. Llyris would sacrifice Meagan in a heartbeat if the situation shifted and Meagan became more liability than asset.
Resource number two: Aidan would kill anyone who tried to hurt his newfound cousin. Slowly and painfully and with excruciating attention to detail, which was a characteristic Ric liked in his friend. But at the moment, Aidan was still tied up with problems of his own.
Resource number three: paybacks. Ric had been at court for a long, long time. He’d been in demand much of that time for both his music and his sword. He had a lot of favors he could call in and a pretty good idea of which players he could trust. And if he couldn’t be around Meagan all the time, he might be able to find someone who could.
He stood and strode over to the scrying sphere in the far corner of his room. There was a certain member of the queen’s personal guard who had once wanted to impress a lady with poetry, but was barely literate at the time. He’d been squarely in Ric’s corner since the sixteenth century.
So was his son, who was a direct result of Ric’s help with the poetry.
It was somewhere to start.
Once he finished his call it was time to prepare for his meeting with the queen. This was going to be maybe the most delicate mission of his life and he was more nervous than he’d been on his first, centuries before. He dressed with care, in full court regalia, making sure his doublet and hose were flamboyant enough to show respect for the occasion, but not flashy enough to look like he was reaching above his station. When it all came down to it, he was nothing more than another servant to Llyris.
He put his guitars away and pulled his favorite lute from its cabinet on the wall. He stroked the oak neck and ivory frets, feeling the centuries of history that connected him to the instrument. It was the first one his teacher had placed in his hands, when Ric had been a homeless young orphan thrust upon the court. The queen had assigned him a guardian, one who was too busy to be bothered with such an awkward responsibility and had fobbed Ric off on tutors and lesson masters. What Ric had lacked in the way of parental affection, he’d made up for in learning, receiving instruction in everything from swordplay to dancing and mathematics.
He missed Clyde, his music tutor and the closest thing Ric had ever had to a father figure. He could sure use Clyde’s sage advice right now. The old elf had been killed on a mission for Llyris during the reign of Richard III.
That’s when Llyris had decided to have his pupil take his place. With no one to turn to and nowhere else to go, Ric had agreed, especially since his first mission had been to avenge Clyde’s death. And the rest was literally history.
Ric strapped on his ceremonial sword and slung the lute’s strap across his shoulder. He forced himself to whistle a cheerful tune as he made his way through the corridors of the palace to the queen’s chambers, trying not to feel like he was off to the gallows.
He passed by the guards at Llyris’s door with relative ease, since he’d been expected. She waited for him in her private sitting room and she was dressed, thank the gods.
Ric had been having unpleasant visions of having to say no to the queen. The idea of having sex with anyone but Meagan turned his stomach. Besides, he was pretty sure that he wasn’t going to be able to get it up for anyone else. Falling in love was a bitch.
He swept into a full court bow in front of the queen who was reclining on a silver brocade chaise and waited until she told him to rise.
“Oh, do sit down, bard. I’ve no wish to strain my neck looking down at you. Or up,” she added as Ric stood. She waved him to a chair.
He sat carefully on the spindly straight-backed chair.
“You’re looking lovely, Your Majesty. Hopefully, now that we’ve recovered the missing heiress, all will be well.”
“And you look as though you’ve tangled with a giant.”
Her gaze was openly critical. “Lady Night Sky sent a message about your injuries. The assassins are dead?”
Ric nodded. “But Owain wasn’t with them. I wouldn’t be surprised if he went through Cleveland on his way here.”
“The guards are on alert.”
“He used blood magic to foul the portal in Detroit. He may well have a back door into this palace.”
Llyris nodded. “I expect he does. I certainly would, in his position. So we should continue to guard the girl.”
Ric bowed his head in ostensible submission. “You are wise, as usual, Your Majesty.”
“And I suppose you had to sleep with her to get her here. I expected as much.”
Ric went stock still.
“You may continue, if you wish. At least until the vote is complete.”
He inclined his chin in what he hoped was a thoughtful gesture. “If Your Majesty wishes.”
Llyris narrowed her eyes and stared at him. “And the geas remains, as well. Fail to produce her for the council meeting, fail to ensure that her vote is in my favor and you will become human. I have known you far too long to trust you entirely.”
“Of course.” He bowed his head again, though every cell in Ric’s body vibrated with fury. How dare she leave him under that threat after he had accomplished his task?
But of course, Llyris wasn’t going to answer. She waved her hand, indicating that their private conversation was finished and several of her ladies entered the room, giggling and chattering.
Llyris arched one eyebrow at him and drawled, “Play something, bard. Never forget that your primary purpose is to entertain me.”
Meagan stood as still as she could while Sinead put the finishing touches on her gown for the formal dinner.
Never mind that it was barely lunchtime in Meagan’s reality, she was about to be presented at a major court banquet. This apparently involved dressing like someone out of a stage production of Sleeping Beauty. She glanced down at her cleavage, which was on blatant display.
Okay, maybe an X-rated version of Sleeping Beauty.
The clothes had belonged to some distant ancestor, but since fashion here hadn’t changed much since the Middle Ages, it didn’t matter. The exquisite confection of a dress lo
oked and even smelled brand new. Magic did have a lot to recommend it as a moth and mildew repellant. It also made alterations a breeze. Sinead had made no bones about the fact that Meagan was far too short and chubby for an elf, especially an elven lady, but Meagan couldn’t do much about her size. Sinead could and did, however, modify the length and girth of the garment with a few words and some waves of her hands. Once the clothing met with her approval, she tackled Meagan’s hair, which she brushed and tugged and pinned until Meagan began to fear she’d show up at dinner bald. Finally, Sinead gave a brief nod that seemed to signify, if not actual approval, at least resigned acceptance that this was the best they were going to get.
Sinead made a gesture at the wall and an ornate silver filigree mirror appeared. The surface started out opaque and cloudy, but slowly cleared till Meagan could see her reflection. At least she assumed it was her. The face looked familiar, but she’d never imagined her hair could look like this, not in a million years. And the cream and gold, Cinderella-style ball gown accentuated her curves, sucking in her waist and pushing her breasts up and out, while the low neckline displayed them, right down to the edge of her nipples. It was probably no more revealing than a tank top, but even swathed in yards of fabric, she still felt naked.
“That amulet needs to go.” Sinead’s voice was bored and condescending.
“No!” Meagan’s hand flew up to grasp Elise’s gift before the other woman could remove it. She remembered Elise’s instructions to keep it on at all times, remembered Blaine agreeing that it was a powerful charm. “The amulet stays.”
“It’s all wrong with the gown.”
“I don’t care.”
“Hmmmm…” Sinead eyed it appraisingly and nodded, granting Meagan a hint of a smile. “I see. ’Tis warded. Not a bad thing, that. Let’s try a bit of camouflage.”
While Meagan watched in the mirror, the black silk cord changed into a fine golden chain and lengthened, till the warm green stone disappeared into the bodice of the gown, nestling between Meagan’s breasts.
Motor City Fae Page 19
