The Faerie Queen.
A NORN. That possibility had never crossed Con’s mind—primarily because as far as he knew, male norns didn’t exist. Clearly that was incorrect, though, although how it had happened—
But that was irrelevant. All Andy’s arguments about why their relationship wouldn’t work were based on a fundamental falsehood—that Con was a prince.
But he wasn’t. He never would be. Would Andy be willing to listen to Con’s suit once he knew the truth? Or would he be angry and humiliated that Con had hidden it from him? That even in their night of devastating intimacy, Con had still lied?
Con didn’t believe for one instant that Andy had influenced his choice—other than by being himself. Andy. The most wonderful man Con had ever met. Somehow, he’d have to convince him. Somehow he had to make things right.
But to do that, he had to make it through the rest of this hellish week, at least until Rey got back.
When he finished dressing and returned to the outer room, Talus was standing at attention in the center of the carpet. Which was odd—the two of them had a much more casual relationship. Talus had even been known to sit in Con’s presence, something he never did within a two-mile radius of anyone else. The only time he’d ever seen Talus in that particular pose was—
“Shite. Gloriana’s here, isn’t she?”
Talus nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Goddess, Talus, don’t call me that now by any means. She’ll know I’m not Rey as soon as she looks at me.” What retribution would she rain down on Rey if she found out he hadn’t followed her orders?
“Are you certain? The spell is impenetrable. No one has ever suspected.”
“She’ll know. It’s my mother’s magic. Gloriana made sure she could detect it after the unfortunate fertility spell.”
“Ah. Well, you should know that she’s not alone.” Talus nodded toward the french doors. Con strode over and looked out. There, tethered to a branch next to the fountain, was his father—the former Thomas the Rhymer, now Thomas the wyvern.
Con’s belly knotted at the way his father’s head drooped, just far enough from the water that he couldn’t drink—typical of Gloriana’s petty cruelty. “Why did she bring him?”
“I believe it’s because she’s touring several other realms and likes to display him as both a threat and an object lesson.”
“Oak and thorn, is she ever going to get over that?”
“Why should she? From her perspective, she was betrayed.”
Con studied Talus’s stoic countenance. “What about from your perspective? Do you think this is justice?”
For once, Talus didn’t immediately express his opinion. His brow wrinkled like crumpled tin. “Thomas had sworn a vow to Her Majesty, a vow as her consort. However, she constrained him to follow her to Faerie the day they met. His choice was compromised, something for which she has never answered.”
Compromised choice. That’s something Andy would understand. Something people accused him of doing. But Con was certain that hadn’t happened—not the way Gloriana had manipulated Thomas into virtual indentured servitude in Faerie, simply because he’d complimented her, and she found him fair.
“Do you think she ought to answer for it?”
“I don’t know.”
Con raised his eyebrows. “You don’t know? Talus, it was your calling. I’ve never known you to be uncertain.”
“Thomas and Emonie are soul mates. Anyone who saw them together would be able to tell. Yet they were parted because of Gloriana’s pride. If Emonie hadn’t panicked and cast the fertility spell when she did, knowing her time with Thomas was short, Gloriana would have severed the consort bond eventually. She always had before, when she tired of her partner. But when she transformed him, she tied her own hands.”
“What do you mean?”
“She transformed him before dissolving the bond. She’s still mated to him. Until she returns him to his human form and officially renounces him, she’s not free to take another consort.”
“Do you think she wants to?”
“She has never seemed inclined to do so. But the reasons for political matches are complicated. Perhaps being unavailable all these years was to her advantage.”
Con sank down on the sofa. “And now, after slighting Rey for so long, she’s finally found a use for him.”
“That may not be enough for her. Perhaps this procession of hers, through all the realms that have even a passing affinity for Faerie, is a way for her to evaluate her own marital state as well.”
Fear congealed in Con’s belly. “You think she’s trolling for a new consort for herself?”
Talus lifted his shoulders—with no accompanying screech of rusted joints. “It’s possible.”
What would happen to Thomas if Gloriana decided having an existing consort was inconvenient to her plans? Would she release Thomas, which would free him to be with Emonie? Would her implacable resentment allow that to happen, or would she be tempted to arrange a more permanent—and bloodier—elimination of his father?
Con stared down into the garden, at Thomas stretching his neck, trying and failing to reach the fountain when his ensorcelled leash refused to give. “I need your help, Talus.”
“You wish me to prevaricate. To hide you from Her Majesty.”
“That goes without saying. But I need you to figure out a way for her to leave Thomas behind. I don’t want to take the chance that she’ll offer him as a sacrifice for some blasted treaty. There are realms enough that consider wyvern flesh a delicacy.”
“I am not certain my abilities extend that far, but I will do what I can.”
“You know who can do something.” Con was suddenly sure of it. “Andy. He must know about Thomas—everybody knows that Gloriana turned her faithless consort into a wyvern. It’s part of her lore and serves to keep her enemies in line. Andy’s not the sort of man who’d let someone else be hurt that way.”
“Are you suggesting pitting an event organizer against the Queen of Faerie?”
“No.” Con smiled, not at all nicely. “I’m suggesting pitting Gloriana against the only male norn in existence. Will you help?”
Con waited, clenching fists gone damp with nerves. If Talus decided his request was unjust….
But Talus bowed, his hand on his chest. “It would be my honor.”
Chapter Fourteen
“ANDERS Skuldsson.” The Queen’s voice conjured up images of silver bells and birdsong at the same time it reminded Andy of a harpy’s shriek.
He looked up from where he’d dropped to his knees. “Your Majesty. We weren’t expecting you until the morning of the coronation ceremony. To what do we owe this honor?”
“I would speak with you.”
“Me? B-b-but why?” Does she know where I spent the night? Can she see the path of Rey’s kisses?
“Are you not seneschal of my son’s coronation and wedding arrangements?”
Andy gulped, trying to moisten his dry mouth. “I wouldn’t say seneschal, exactly. That’s kind of medieval. I’m more the—”
“Now.” Her voice shivered the windows. “Alone.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” He scrambled to his feet and stumbled to the sitting room door. “This way, please.”
The Queen swept in, her leaf-green gown picking up beige fuzz from the carpet. Oops. Once she’d installed herself in the wingback chair next to the window, Andy closed the door and stood in front of her, his hands clasped.
“You may sit.” She gestured gracefully to the wooden ladder-back chair against the wall.
He moved it so that he could face her without craning his neck. “What can I do for Your Majesty?”
She cocked her head, tapping one long scarlet fingernail against the chair’s arm. “I have read the reports you’ve filed with your leader.”
“You mean Mikos?”
“Is that not what I said? I am not accustomed to being questioned in this fashion.”
“Forgive me
, Your Majesty.” Don’t antagonize the Queen. Don’t antagonize the Queen. “I meant no disrespect.”
“I wish to know how we are down three candidates, yet only one of the required events has occurred.”
Andy tried to control his wince. Epic fail there. “As stated in the report, Johan was disqualified for poisoning all the other candidates.”
A faint crease appeared between her perfect eyebrows. “The candidate showed initiative.”
“He poisoned them.”
She waved her hand. “The effects were merely inconvenient, not life-threatening. I fail to see the problem.”
“The problem,” Andy said, trying to remember he was speaking not only to a client but to a Queen, “is that incapacitating rivals is in direct violation of the contest rules, as signed off on by each candidate and by Your Majesty yourself.”
“Really? Hmmm.” She flicked her fingernails and several books fell off Andy’s desk. “How foolish of me. What of the second incident?”
“Kjersti of the Stjarna clan attended the gala at the harpies’ gallery with His Highness as scheduled,”—mostly—“however, His Highness was not… impressed… by her and chose to invoke the early rejection clause.”
Her frown line deepened although her lips didn’t turn down. “There’s an early rejection clause?”
“Yes. Article 7 Section 3. As signed off by—”
“By me, yes. Clearly my counselors need to be encouraged to brief me more carefully in the details of these matters. Yesterday, however, my son and the ifrit of the Windrider clan failed to keep their appointment with Hephaestus. This appointment was a favor to me, and therefore the slight was personally embarrassing.”
“Well, you see….” Now they were getting to the tricky part. “Hashim withdrew from the competition yesterday morning, and—”
“Withdrew?” Her voice veered a little closer to harpy. “How can that be? Did his clan leader agree?”
“It hardly matters. The candidates can’t be forced to participate, not in this day and age.”
She gave him a wintery smile. “You are charmingly naive. At least I hope it’s naiveté and not stupidity. Very well. Clearly I can’t depend on my son to be sensible nor any of the candidates to remember where their loyalties lie. Therefore, it is up to you.”
“Me?” Oh gods, she knows. Nevertheless, he’d learned years ago how to skirt outright lies by careful redirection. “I assure you I’ll do everything in my power to make the ceremonies a success.”
“Yes, I’m sure you will. Therefore, you will cause Reyner to choose Nils of the Brynja clan as his mate.”
“I… I beg your pardon?”
This time, her scowl reached her mouth. “I am not accustomed to repeating myself. I believe I was clear.”
“You want me to… to manipulate the Fate lines? To force your son to choose Nils?”
Another wave of her hand. “Force? Nonsense. Let us say encourage, although it hardly matters. Reyner agreed to the political match, and this is the one that will best serve my—that is, Faerie’s purposes. See that it’s taken care of.”
“Your Majesty—”
She rose slowly, growing until she was as tall as the ceiling. Andy slid out of the chair onto his knees. “Do you dare to challenge my orders, Herr Skuldsson?”
“No. Of course not.” Yes. Yes, I do. “But you must be aware that I’m forbidden to use my powers on any person. The punishment for doing so would be my eternal enslavement in Asgard.”
“That’s scarcely my problem. I need Reyner to choose Nils, and you will see that he does so. My contract with your company, even though it includes far too many inconvenient clauses, at least stipulates that you will do whatever is necessary to guarantee my wishes are met. These are my wishes. Why do you think I demanded you as the event coordinator? It’s certainly not for your competence.”
Andy’s voice got stuck somewhere south of his throat. She’d chosen him because he was a norn? Chosen Enchanted Occasions not because it was the best at what it did, but because she didn’t care if she ruined it? Ruined him? Furthermore, she wanted to force Rey to mate with a man he loathed.
“Also, since you seem incapable of conducting at least a semblance of the consort culling, we will dispense with it. The coronation and wedding will take place this evening, as soon as I return from my meeting with the Brynja chiefs.” She shook out her skirts. “Now. Take me to my son. I need to remind him of his own obligations.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Andy managed to croak as he clambered to his feet. “If you will—”
The door burst open, and Brooke rushed in, wide-eyed. She dropped a deep curtsey. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, Andy is needed in the kitchen immediately. It’s a matter of life and death. And lunch.”
“Oh gods. Chef?”
Brooke nodded. “Yes. Please go immediately. I’ll escort Her Majesty to the garden to await you.”
Andy turned to the Queen. “If you will excuse me, Your Majesty. I am the only one who can intercede with our chef—”
“Why should that matter to me?”
Andy took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his nose. Don’t snark at the Queen. “Our chef is a goblin berserker. If you expect the wedding feast to be ready at less than eight hours’ notice, then I need to prevent him from slaughtering his staff—and possibly half the guests.”
“Oh, very well. You.” She pointed to Brooke. “A glass of morning dew. At once. I’m parched.”
“Of course.” Brooke jerked her head at Andy. “Go. Now.”
Andy went.
CON peered out of the janitorial closet, the overpowering scent of pine cleanser making his nose itch. When Talus clanked into view, he opened the door wider and motioned him inside.
“Did you find him?”
“Sir Andy, you mean? No.”
“Damn,” Con muttered.
“However, I located Lady Brooke, who promised to convince Sir Andy to come this way. Apparently….” Talus cleared his throat, which sounded like the muffled blatt of a trumpet. “Her Majesty is already sequestered with Sir Andy, giving him what Lady Brooke described as ‘what for.’”
Con sank down on an unopened bucket of the noisome cleanser and dropped his head into his hands. “It’s too late then. There’s no possible way he’ll be able to escape from her.”
“Sir Andy will not betray you.”
“You mean he won’t betray Rey. He still has no idea that’s not who I am. Why would he even consider that I need to hide from Gloriana? She’s supposed to be my mother.”
“Ah. A point. Perhaps you should inform Sir Andy of the deception.”
Not so easy, my friend. After Con had slept with Andy without telling him who exactly he’d allowed to make love to him? “No.”
“If you fear that Sir Andy’s feelings for you will undergo a change should he learn the truth—”
“How can they not? I lied to him. I pretended to be someone I’m not, and we— Never mind.” But if telling Andy the truth would save Rey from Gloriana’s wrath—wouldn’t that be worth it?
Who could he stand to lose more—Andy or Rey?
Be reasonable. Andy might never be yours anyway, but Rey is your brother.
He knew which direction his gift of responsibility was urging him—choose family, choose Faerie. But his heart was pointing him in an entirely unexpected direction—straight at Andy. Until this week, Con would have scoffed at the notion that he’d ever consider love a reason for anything.
But when he had to choose between his own wants and desires and the good of his realm, his people, his brother? Well, there was no choice, was there?
Talus set his eye to the crack in the door. “Lady Brooke said that her prevarication should send Sir Andy running by this spot in his usual headlong fashion. You need only ask to speak to him.”
“But if he’s trying to head off a disaster—”
“I shall tell him that the story was a fabrication to allow him to exit Her Majesty’
s presence.”
“Thanks, Talus. You’re a true friend.”
Talus blinked. Tink tink tink. “I—Thank you, Your Highness.”
“Don’t call me—” At the sound of approaching footsteps, Con pushed Talus into the hallway. “There he is. Wish me luck.”
“Luck is unnecessary when one has right on one’s side.” Talus strode to the center of the hall.
But is right on my side? Whose right do I choose?
Con took Talus’s place at the door. Enough of the hall was visible that he had a perfect view of Andy rounding the corner to skid to a stop in front of Talus.
“Oops. Sorry, Talus, but I’ve got to get to the kitchen.”
“His Highness would like a word, Sir Andy.”
“If this is about this morning—”
“It is a matter of utmost urgency.”
“I need to talk to him too, but if Chef is upset—”
“Your chef is proceeding with his normal duties.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Andy muttered.
“Lady Brooke’s message was intended merely to allow you to leave the Queen’s presence without unfortunate repercussions.”
“Wow.” Andy blinked. “She’s a better liar than I thought. I’m not sure how I feel about that. It’s hard enough for people to trust undines, or any aitcher for that matter. If anybody suspected—”
“Sir Andy. I believe time is of the essence.”
“Odin’s beard, you’re right. I need to talk to the prince, and then I need to talk to Chef.” He winced. “I don’t suppose you have a spare suit of flameproof armor around?”
“No. But I would be happy to accompany you and remind your chef of the consequences of unjust attacks.”
“You don’t know what I’m about to tell him. From his perspective, I think the attack would be totally justified.”
“If you please, His Highness awaits.”
“Right.” Andy turned on his heel, clearly ready to launch himself down the hall toward the elevator.”
“Sir Andy. His Highness is here.”
Andy turned back, scanning the hallway. “Here?”
Nudging Fate Page 13
