Beguiled

by Maureen Child

  “You took her to Inia, did you not?”

  “I did,” Devon admitted, lifting his chin even higher. “Only to show Eileen the beauty of Otherworld. Our Queen found us there. She was not pleased.”

  “I can imagine,” Culhane muttered, knowing that Maggie’s fury would have been a sight to see.

  “You must not go to Eileen again,” Culhane told him.

  “Father—”

  Culhane knew all the arguments he would face if he gave his son a chance to speak. So he didn’t let him. “This is as your Queen and your Chieftain wish it. You will stay away from Eileen Donovan. Do you understand?”

  Devon’s eyes looked tortured and his mouth twisted as if he were biting back words of argument. But centuries of training in the Conclave stood him in good stead. He nodded once. “I understand, Chieftain.”

  Culhane sighed again. He understood why his son was furious. Being kept from the one woman destiny has chosen for you was a painful thing. But there was nothing to be done about it. Until Maggie and her family had fully accepted the Fae way of life, they would not understand Devon’s need to be with Eileen.

  “Good,” Culhane told his son, and gave him an approving smile. “Return to your rooms and rest. I will see you at training tomorrow.”

  “As you wish it.” Devon nodded again; then he shifted out of the room.

  The next morning, Culhane swung the heavy sword in his hand like a Fae possessed. He couldn’t seem to burn off the fury riding inside him no matter how long and hard he trained.

  Quinn was his target, as he had been the last few hours. His fellow warrior was just as indefatigable as he, and the clash and clang of their swords coming together rang out like a cacophony of violence. The other warriors around them on the Conclave’s training field gave them a wide berth, as if they were all tuned to the Chieftain’s state of mind and had no wish to get too close to him at the moment.

  A wise choice, Culhane thought, again swinging his sword in a wide arc toward Quinn. His arms vibrated all the way up to his shoulders with the power of that blow and even Quinn staggered backward. The warrior lifted his blade, though, and parried the next blow, dodging to one side and coming up behind Culhane.

  But Culhane was too tense, too tightly strung to be slow that morning. He whipped around, sweeping the sword out and following it with a hard punch to Quinn’s jaw from his left fist. Pain jolted up through his hand and it felt good. Tangible.

  The twin suns shone down from a cloudless blue sky. A soft wind streamed across the battleground and from the surrounding trees came the catcalling and cheers from their always-present pixie audience.

  All was as it should be. Except, Culhane thought, for the rage bubbling just beneath his skin. His mind raced as his body slipped into the training it was so familiar with. Once more, he was thinking about the row he and Maggie had had the night before. The one where angry words had flown and he and his Queen had circled round and round and none of it had amounted to anything beyond another fruitless battle. Why was the woman so determined to be as un-Fae as possible?

  She’d accepted her role as the destined Queen, he told himself. Uprooted her family to Otherworld. Vowed to make her stand and defend both those closest to her heart and the Fae world she hardly knew.

  Yet she still managed to cling to her human values, to thoughts of happily ever after, of two people linked together through all time.

  He grunted and brought the blade down again. “Through time. She has no idea of the reality of time. Let her be immortal. See the centuries fly past and then I will listen to her thoughts on the passage of time.”

  “Cease!” Quinn shouted, and Culhane instantly halted his charge. When two or three of the closest warriors turned to look at Quinn, surprised, he jerked his head at them. Silently telling them to walk away. Give him privacy to speak to the Chieftain who was so far out of control that morning.

  Culhane didn’t even notice the others. He stabbed the point of his sword into the dirt and folded both hands atop the hilt. Leaning on it, he steadied his breathing and stared off into the distance. But he wasn’t seeing the trees, the cobalt sky, the pixies or the crystal spires of the city beyond. Instead, he saw, once again, the hurt and anger in Maggie’s eyes as she shouted at him. As she’d thrown him out of her room. She’d dismissed Culhane.

  By the gods, had he ever known such a humiliating moment? No. Not in an eternity of life.

  The woman was tearing him in two. Driving him to a state of desperate frustration he’d never experienced before. She’d even shattered his focus. Until Maggie had entered his life, he’d been a Fae with vision. Able to look at a situation and see several different outcomes. Weigh the advantages of one strategy against another. He’d led his warriors with a steely determination and fought for his people with a near-legendary concentration.

  He knew the course Otherworld should take and had set about arranging matters to suit that course. He’d found the destined Queen, shown her the world that could be hers and slowly eased her into accepting what had to be. Now she was on the throne and his focus was gone. She’d shattered something elemental in him and Culhane didn’t have a clue as to how to restore things to their proper order.

  And things were only getting worse.

  “Are you ready to speak now of what’s pushing at you?”

  Culhane turned his gaze to Quinn, his friend, fellow warrior, his brother. Gritting his teeth, Culhane shook his head no. There were some things a male didn’t speak of. Not even to another male as close as Quinn was to him.

  But his old friend didn’t give up easily. “What did Maggie do?”

  Culhane snorted. He should have known Quinn would insist on an answer. That he wouldn’t walk away from this. They’d known each other far too long. Fought side by side in too many battles.

  Surrendering to the inevitable, Culhane blew out a breath. “She tossed me out of her bedroom.”

  Quinn’s eyebrows went high on his forehead.“There’s a first time for everything, they say.”

  “Human sayings now, Quinn?” Culhane asked bitterly. “Is that what we’ve come to? Our race has been here since before man crawled up out of the muck.” He paused, then waved one hand out as if to encompass all of Otherworld. When he spoke again, his anger fired every word. “We were an advanced civilization when they were learning to make fire. We live as gods, never age, never die. And now, because we have a once-human queen, we are to give that up? Become human like them? Accept human rules? Their way of life? Are we to be no more now than a cheap copy of humanity?”

  Quinn’s eyebrows went even higher. “No one has suggested this, Culhane. We are who we are. That cannot change.”

  “Can’t it?” Culhane swept his gaze past his friend, scanning the training grounds that had been his home for as far back as he could remember. This was what he knew. This was his life. His calling. His destiny, as ruling was Maggie’s. He could not change that even had he wished to.

  “Even my own son has fallen under the spell of the Donovans,” he muttered, thinking back to his talk with Devon that morning. He’d told the boy to stay away from Eileen and as his Chieftain, he expected to be obeyed. And yet, if Devon were anything like his father, he would be hard-pressed to obey that order.

  “Devon? With Eileen?” Quinn frowned. “She is a child.”

  “Aye and so is he,” Culhane argued hotly. “Do you forget that?”

  “No,” his friend said, still frowning, “but she is new to our ways and she is my daughter now, Culhane. I will protect her.”

  This infuriated him beyond all measure.

  “I tire of hearing my son insulted. You think you must stand guard over your daughter because my son would bring her to harm?”

  Quinn’s scowl deepened. “No, but—”

  Culhane waved a hand in disgust, silencing his warrior before he could anger him further. “This is more of the human way of thinking, Quinn. It poisons us just as slowly and surely as an iron knife wound would.”r />
  Quinn grumbled something unrepeatable and Culhane almost smiled. At least his friend still cursed in the old tongue.

  “This problem with you and Maggie?” he asked. “It is more than your usual fight, then?”

  Culhane pulled his sword free of the earth, swung it high and tipped his head back to study the brilliant sunlight glinting off the edge of the blade. “Aye. It is.” Disgusted, he slid a sideways glance at his friend. “I told her we were married.”

  “Good.”

  “Not so very good, my friend,” Culhane said on a sigh. “Our Queen was not pleased. In truth, she was furious and used the fact of our joining as a needle to poke and jab at me. Told me she didn’t trust me.”

  Quinn huffed out a breath. “She is female. They think with their hearts, not their minds. That is why they will not make good warriors.”

  “Maybe,” he allowed, not sure of anything anymore.

  “It’s trollshit and you know it, Culhane.”

  Though he appreciated the support, Culhane wasn’t certain Quinn was right. Some of what Maggie had said still resonated all too clearly within him. He had used her to defeat Mab. Had planned to rule through her as soon as she was Queen. Had counted on her need of him to give him the leverage he required to set Otherworld on a course of equality for his fellow males.

  So how could he be insulted when she threw those very accusations at his head? He wondered if what he was feeling was shame. He’d never known that emotion before, so how was he to tell? Did he regret what he had done, or was it only her discovery of his true intentions that was bothering him?

  Now that she had discovered these truths, where did that leave him and Maggie?

  She still needed him, but would she be less willing to accept his aid now? More cautious of coming to him with problems and questions?

  He was worried he might have destroyed the very thing he’d sought to build.

  Had he ruined whatever chance he and Maggie might have had together?

  “You did what was right for Otherworld,” Quinn intoned darkly.

  Lowering the blade again, Culhane looked at his oldest friend. “Aye. I did. But now I find that Otherworld doesn’t matter to me as much as one redheaded former human does.”

  Quinn sighed and nodded with great solemnity. “I understand completely.”

  “There’s something else you should know.”

  Quinn waited for him to continue.

  “I told her about Leah.” His former wife’s name had come back to him late the night before. He refused to feel badly about forgetting it, either. Leah had not been his love. She’d been tall and strong and the perfect mother for his son. That was all. And during the time they had been joined, she’d made his life a constant misery with her eternal complaints and demands. The moment their union had dissolved, Culhane had felt as though he’d been pardoned from his own personal Casia.

  “That was so long ago, what could it matter?” Quinn countered, and Culhane took consolation in the fact that his friend knew his human lover no better than he himself did.

  “I told her about Devon as well.” He frowned to himself. “That is how I found out about him and Eileen.”

  “She should know about your son. He will be a fine warrior one day. And I am . . . proud he has seen how pure of heart Eileen is.”

  Culhane smiled to hear his friend try to recover from his first reaction to the thought of Devon seeing Eileen. “Yes. He is a fine warrior.” He didn’t see Devon much. It was the way of the Warrior clan. Those in training lived separate lives, away from their older brothers and fathers, so that they might learn and grow in seclusion. Training the younger fighters was all-important to the continued safety of Otherworld.

  “Maggie will ‘get over it,’ as the humans say,” Quinn said cautiously.

  “I wonder,” Culhane murmured, then looked at his friend again. “Maggie also knows that you and Nora are married as well.”

  Quinn laughed until his shoulders shook and the booming sound of his laughter rose up and seemed to echo off the high walls surrounding the training field. When he finally stopped to breathe, he shook his head and said, “That is no matter. Nora will be pleased to hear of it.”

  Culhane wasn’t convinced of that. Privately, he thought that his friend was going to discover that he knew his human woman as little as it seemed Culhane knew his.

  “Married?” Nora looked at Maggie, then laughed. “No, I’m not.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  It had been a long morning already and Maggie had been in no shape to face it.

  Her eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep. She’d been up all night, staring out the windows at the world that she’d chosen to call home. She’d even briefly considered changing her mind. Running back to the world she knew, the house she loved, the life she understood.

  But that hadn’t lasted long.

  Maggie figured any woman in her position would have thrown herself a little pity party. And she had thoroughly enjoyed hers. All that had been missing were the party hats. She had a good cry, kicked a few pieces of furniture, then planned sweet, savory revenge on Culhane, even though she knew she wouldn’t go through with it.

  What would have been the point? The big jerk didn’t even think he’d done anything wrong. Nothing wrong. Marry her. Use her to rule Otherworld. Make a baby, then dissolve their marriage and eventually forget her name as he had his first wife’s—all while still holding a key to the throne through their child.

  And he was already a father and hadn’t bothered to tell her that, either.

  It was about then that she decided she wasn’t giving up. Wasn’t running away. She’d made her call. Moved her family and accepted her life in Otherworld. So now all she had to do was forget Culhane before he had the chance to forget her.

  Shouldn’t be too tough, she had assured herself. All it would take was a few hundred years. Surely by then, she’d stop remembering how he made her body burn. How he laughed in the night. How he looked at her and made her feel invincible. How he . . . Damn it.

  “Maggie,” Nora said with sympathy, “you’re just tired.”

  “Oh, I really am.” She’d come downstairs that morning to discover that there were literally hordes of Fae waiting for an audience with the Queen. And though she’d really wanted Culhane at her side to help explain everything, she’d ended up muddling through on her own.

  She’d solved disputes, heard complaints and granted favors. When the crowd had finally dispersed, she’d met with Ailish of the female guard and assured her that she hadn’t forgotten her promise to have them join the warriors.

  And that had all been before lunch.

  This queen business was a lot more involved than she’d counted on.

  When starvation had finally sent her in search of food, she’d found Nora sitting alone in the dining hall.

  It was an actual hall, too, not a room. The table alone could have easily sat fifty people. The place was cavernous, though it was a lot less stark than it had been the day before. The table was now light oak. The sideboard running along one wall was made of the same wood and the matching chairs were covered in bright swatches of silk in all the colors of Maggie’s painting palette. The ceiling, at least two stories overhead, was painted much like Sanctuary’s ceilings, with an elaborate mural of Otherworld and life in the palace.

  Maggie told herself that now that she was getting better at flying, as soon as she had an extra minute—if ever—she was going to fly on up there and examine the painting more carefully.

  But for now . . .

  “Trust me on this, Nora,” she said, draining the last of the coffee in her cup and wishing for more, “you’re as married as I am.”

  Nora chuckled. “Quinn and I have actually talked about this and he said something about this but I didn’t pay any attention. Maggie, I would know if I was married or not.”

  “Yeah,” she mused, “you’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

  Nora smiled at the Fae server who bro
ught two silver urns to the table—one with coffee, one with a Fae version of tea. And when he was gone again, Nora poured herself a cup of that tea, leaned back in her chair and gave Maggie a superior, I’m-the-older-sister-who-is-much-smarter-than-you smile. “Honey, did you and Culhane have another fight?”

  “Oh, you could say that.” Maggie poured more coffee and nibbled on something that tasted a lot like Bezel’s famous Tarkian pot roast. “If you consider the Second World War a scuffle. Or I know, maybe the Revolutionary War was a spat. Yeah, that’s about right.”

  “So, what did he do this time?” Nora asked, still smiling that older-sister-superiority smile.

  “Oh, where do I start?” Maggie asked, sipping at her coffee. “How about with . . . you know the Fae boy who sneaked off with Eileen?”

  “Yes . . .”

  “Culhane’s son.” Maggie nodded as Nora’s jaw dropped.

  “He has a son?”

  “Oh yeah. Along with an ex-wife whose name escapes him at the moment.”

  “That bastard,” Nora said, in complete supportive mode now. “And he just dropped this on you all at once?”

  “He really did.” Maggie nodded and drank more coffee. “Then he said we should make a baby.”

  “A baby?”

  “Uh-huh,” Maggie took yet another gulp of coffee and with a grateful sigh let the heat slide through her system. “Said as long as we’re married, we might as well have a child to you know, secure my spot on the throne.” She paused and gave Nora a wry smile. “It was all very romantic.”

  “Unbelievable!” Outraged, Nora demanded, “He wants to have a baby with you so he can keep one hand on the throne?”

  “Just how I put it, thank you. And yes.”

  “And just when did this marriage take place?” Nora was hot now and getting hotter by the second. “Did you ask him that? Because I don’t remember a church or a priest or buying a new dress and eating cake!”