Adonis eyed the living ropes, a little uneasy at the way they writhed around Aiyana’s arms and behind her neck. Some of the thorns pierced her skin, drinking up droplets of blood and filling the air with the faint scent of copper. Aiyana seemed oblivious to the parasitic behavior, her eyes focused on Dubheasa.
“Be careful how you speak to me,” Dubheasa warned, a hint of anger warming her voice. “I was not hurting her.”
Aiyana ignored her excuse. “Marcela, are you all right?”
The air elemental glared at Dubheasa. “That depends. What would the consequences be if I opened her throat?”
“Dire,” Kirill said crisply.
“Why, because it would interfere with some alliance you’re dreaming of between you and the fey?” Patricio snarled.
Kirill met Patricio’s eyes, held them. “Dire because your wife is an air elemental and Dubheasa is the Queen of Air and Darkness.”
Ivy’s hand touched Adonis’ back between his wings. He turned his body to let her into his embrace, leaned down when she rose on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “Do you think he made that connection before he went to get her?”
Adonis opened his mouth to say no, Kirill would never have invited Marcela here without warning her of such a connection. Then he sighed. “Probably.”
Patricio was still holding his sword, and his intentions were plain in the flex of his biceps. The angel wasn’t one to waste time thinking his actions through, not when brute force served him so well. Even Etienne thought things through more than the sin-eating prince of Meropis.
“Patricio, think,” Kirill said, a thread of tension finally weaving into his voice. “Right now we are all bound by the contract of guest and host. If you offer her violence, that contract will be broken.”
“She broke it when she attacked Marcela!” Patricio bellowed. His knuckles turned white, the effort to keep from swinging his weapon at the Unseelie queen plain in every line on his face.
“I did not!” Dubheasa stomped her foot and planted her hands on her hips. “I did nothing to hurt her, I was just testing—”
“And now you are finished,” Aiyana said quietly. Her voice, though soft, reverberated through the room, holding the weight of her power and the promise of all the destruction she could bring down on them if she chose. She looked at Patricio with the firm stare of a mother facing down an unruly child. “Put the weapon away. There will be no bloodshed here. Not inside where there is no land to benefit from it.”
Adonis winced, remembering his visits to Aiyana’s kingdom before she’d broken her curse. Deep pits in the earth with teeth at the bottom, mouths opening and closing, wanting blood and flesh. Hungry. Thanks for the reminder, Aiyana.
“I will say when I am finished,” Dubheasa growled.
The air in the room grew heavier. Robin let out a soft groan and the hairs on the back of Adonis’ neck stood up. Dubheasa was raising her power, flexing her muscle to show what she was capable of. He swallowed hard, barely resisting the urge to rub his neck, massage it as if that would somehow help him get more air. It was getting harder to breathe.
“I am sure you are a very scary queen on your little island,” Aiyana said evenly. She took a step forward and the vines on her arms flowed down, spreading out like a nest of hissing snakes. “But here, in my home, you are like any other guest. And you will show some respect.”
Dubheasa narrowed her eyes and raised a hand. Marian pulled harder on her arrow, lining up a shot that would hit Patricio’s heart. Aiyana watched calmly, then held up a finger.
“Do remember, Dubheasa. I am no mortal to cower at your feet. I am a goddess. Cutting off my air will do you no good.” She smiled at Saamal, and it softened her features, made her even more beautiful. “Especially not when my husband is here to stand with me.”
“Always, my love,” Saamal said, rising and setting his glass of wine on the small oak table beside his chair. He came to stand by his wife and together they faced Dubheasa, not threatening, but very clearly presenting a united and immovable front. An immortal front. A divine front.
The tension in the room climbed up and up, impossibly high, until Adonis thought he would choke on it. He wanted to speak, but he had no joke, no witty banter to break the standoff happening before him. He gathered his power, drawing on the astral plane, ready to shield his wife and his guests if he had to.
Suddenly Dubheasa’s face split in a wide grin. “Excellent!” She turned away from Marcela as if the air elemental had ceased to exist and faced Etienne where he stood still locked in private conversation with Loupe. “Now you see why the women need to be here?”
Etienne didn’t look up. Against all common sense, he hadn’t taken his focus from his wife for a second. If he’d noticed the tension in the room, felt Dubheasa’s power, he gave no sign. Loupe was still speaking to him in a low voice, one hand waving about in animation, the other cupped protectively over the soft, fuzzy head of the wolf pup cuddled against her chest. Etienne nodded, raised his eyebrows, started to speak, stopped, and nodded again. This went on and on as one by one, everyone in the room turned to look at him.
Dubheasa rolled her eyes at the inattentive couple, then looked directly at Kirill. “I want an invitation to your realm.”
Patricio, who had sheathed his sword with obvious reluctance at Aiyana’s command, made a choked sound in his throat. His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword, fingers closing on the shining metal with a clear intention to resume his threat. Marian, who had lowered her bow when the sword had once again been tucked safely in its sheath, raised her weapon. Marcela lifted her spear from the floor and lowered the wicked tip at Marian. The sharp iron point rose from a nest of broken seashells that promised much more damage than a single puncture wound.
Aiyana sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Saamal, would you get me a glass of wine? I’m afraid this evening’s agenda may take longer than I expected.”
“Of course.” Saamal led Aiyana to the left side of the fireplace and settled her into the chair next to his before going to the drink table and pouring her a glass of red wine.
Irina slipped from Kirill's side and wandered to the fireplace as she addressed Dubheasa. “Your Majesty, you must know you don’t need an invitation.” She lifted a log from the basket beside the hearth and nestled it into the fire, her right hand reaching for the iron poker opposite the basket of wood. “You found your way here tonight, I’m sure you could find your way here again if you wanted to.”
Wood crackled, sap spitting as she poked at the logs, stirring the embers in a merry spray of sparks. She replaced the poker and stood, brushing ashes from her dress. “You could have come in and settled yourself in this land without any interaction with us at all if that was your wish.”
Adonis elbowed Robin and nodded to Irina. The rusalka knew how to play hostess, and thanks to her husband, she spent more than her fair share of time performing the role in front of creatures with more interest in blood than wine. She swept over to the table beside the fireplace and lifted a decanter with one hand and a bottle of whiskey with the other. She held them both up to Dubheasa with a questioning look. Dubheasa arched an eyebrow, but nodded at the whiskey.
Irina poured a glass of the amber fluid into a squat tumbler. “Why show up here, now? Why insist that all of us be present?”
Dubheasa put a hand on Marian’s arm, her fingers pale against the dark green of Marian’s dress. Adonis raised his eyebrows as again Marian visibly relaxed and lowered her weapon. He leaned closer to Robin. “Your wife gets along rather well with your mother.”
Robin nodded, his affection for his wife plain in the upturned corner of his mouth. “I think it will be good for both of them. Marian is still learning about herself and her heritage and what that means for her. My foster mother is the epitome of loving yourself and owning up to your desires and needs, so she’s exactly the sort of influence Marian needs right now. And she did save Marian from Herne’s court…”
Robin tr
ailed off and Adonis turned his head to see that Dubheasa was staring at them now. She pursed her lips and looked from Adonis, Robin, and Ivy to Saamal and Aiyana enjoying their wine with more attention on one another than the conversation, then to Etienne and Loupe who had yet to give any indication that they were aware of anyone in the room besides themselves. Adonis wrapped one wing around Ivy, instinctively getting between her and that darkening avian stare.
“I insisted that all of you be present because I was under the apparently mistaken impression that negotiations concerning inclusion in your new realm were important enough to warrant interest for all parties.” She faced Irina, crossing her slender arms. “You have invited two couples into this realm and to my knowledge, none of the women were present for either invitation.”
Irina’s lips spread into a tolerant smile as she returned to stand beside her husband. “I am in the middle of negotiations with five different goblin tribes. I have my hands full. I had thought that interviewing happily married couples to decide whether or not to let them live in this realm was a simple enough task to be delegated to the council—without my having to babysit.”
Kirill arched an imperious blond eyebrow at his wife. “I am humbled by your faith in me, my love.”
Irina patted his arm but didn’t take her eyes from Dubheasa. “And Loupe has her hands full seeing to the wolf repopulation in Sanguennay.” She glanced at Loupe, her expression softening at the way the blonde woman patted the fuzzy little head tucked against her chest.
Dubheasa gave Loupe another disparaging look. “One would hope she could spare a few moments to consider her kingdom’s future.”
“Loupe cares a great deal for her kingdom,” Irina said firmly. “Her attention to the wolves is an admirable attempt on her part to make amends for something—”
“I do not need you to defend me.”
Irina and Dubheasa both swiveled their heads to look at Loupe. The small blonde had finally broken from her conversation with her husband and was facing Irina with a look only a hair’s breadth from being a glare. The dark circles under her eyes betrayed her exhaustion, and she spoke with a harsh tone that contrasted sharply with the tender way she cupped one hand protectively around the wolf pup’s head.
“I can speak for myself,” she continued. “I’ve kept my silence thus far not because I was unaware of Her Majesty’s prodding, but because I don’t care what she thinks of me and I’m perfectly happy to let her believe whatever pleases her as long as I can continue my work uninterrupted. I don’t need you to defend me, and I’d prefer it if you did not offer up personal details about my life to a stranger.”
“Feisty,” Robin murmured beside Adonis. “Wouldn’t have thought it by looking at her.”
Adonis idly ran a hand down Ivy’s arm, his wing still cradling her against him. “She’s pushing herself too hard,” he said quietly. “I knew she’d been fostering the wolf population of Sanguennay to make up for her part in her stepfamily’s illegal skin trade, but now I can’t help but wonder if perhaps she hasn’t been taking on more than—”
“Careful, love, she’ll hear you,” Ivy whispered.
“No she won’t,” Robin spoke up. “I’ve taken the liberty of fixing a veil around us. As far as the rest of the room is concerned, we’re no more than an attentive and quiet audience. Unless they attempt to interact with us directly, the veil will hold.”
Adonis opened his mouth to congratulate his quick thinking, but Irina’s voice interrupted him.
“I’m sorry. Of course you can defend yourself. And I shouldn’t have spoken about your personal life.”
“Don’t apologize, Irina.” Marcela narrowed her eyes at Loupe and planted her spear firmly on the ground as if standing to attention. “Either participate in the conversation or don’t. Don’t just jump in when you have something unpleasant to say to someone who’s supposed to be your ally.”
“Should we say something?” Ivy whispered to Adonis.
Adonis gripped her arm and shook his head emphatically. “No. No, gods, no. Never get between fighting women. Even Etienne isn’t foolish enough to speak up right now.”
And he wasn’t. For once, Etienne was holding his tongue and letting a disagreement go on without him. His only contribution was to stand behind Loupe in a silent show of solidarity, his eyes once again human brown as they calmly surveyed the room.
The wolf pup in the sling around Loupe’s body whimpered. For a split second, the irritation melted from her face. She dropped her lips close to the soft little ear closest to her mouth and cooed to the pup, stroking its head with one hand and patting its bottom through the sling with the other. The pup sniffled against her hand and curled itself tighter to her chest. Its eyelids drooped and a moment later it was asleep.
Loupe waited, watching carefully to make certain it was all right, then turned her attention back to Marcela. “I have one hundred and twenty-eight wolves who have outgrown our forests and if I don’t find new land for them, they’re going to end up killing each other in battles for territory. I have not slept in three days. I am tired, and I am busy, and the last thing I needed was to be hauled away from my work by a vampire who thinks I have nothing better to do with my time than appease a political guest who throws a temper tantrum whenever she doesn’t get her way.”
Adonis’ mouth went dry, his skin itching as he waited for Dubheasa’s power to explode in retaliation at the insult. He glanced at Robin, hoping the fey would have some advice, or would perhaps step forward to intercede on their behalf. To his surprise, Robin was smiling, just a little, barely more than the corner of his mouth rising.
Etienne, for his part, looked a little too pleased at his wife’s condemnation of Dubheasa, probably still angry about her earlier display of power over him. Patricio too looked more satisfied than cautious.
Idiots.
Fortunately, Dubheasa seemed to be keeping her calm. In fact, she seemed…pleased? After one lingering look at Irina, whose face was schooled into a blank mask that Adonis was sure made Kirill proud, Dubheasa turned her attention to the only female member of the council who had yet to speak.
“And you, death goddess? What are your thoughts?”
Aiyana drew a slender finger down the stem of her wine glass. Her dark eyes flowed over each person in the room in turn like a black river lapping at hapless swimmers. “This council was not formed by accident. Each man here was chosen carefully, and each woman deemed to be his ideal match. We are each very powerful in our own right. It would be unrealistic to think that one could gather men and women of such strength and expect no…friction.”
The Unseelie queen looked around the room, her expression carefully blank. “All right then. So, Loupe is too busy with her wolves to have an active role on the council and Irina is busy with other contracts. Do the rest of you feel the same way?”
“I travel a lot,” Ivy offered, peeking from behind Adonis’ wing. “I was…homebound for a long time, so I have a great deal of catching up to do. I’m not usually around for these meetings.”
Marcela stared at Dubheasa like a solider overseeing the signing of a treaty, staring at an enemy she’d been robbed of the chance to retaliate against. Finally she let out a slow breath and shook her head. “I’m not a politician.”
“Abysmal,” Dubheasa muttered. She turned to Aiyana, her face rising with a wisp of hope. “And you, death goddess? Surely you would take a more active role in something so critical as the nurturing of a new land?”
“I’m afraid not, Your Majesty. My land suffered a great deal in my absence. I have much to do there to rebuild before I can even consider lending my presence to this realm.”
“Pity.” Dubheasa drummed her fingers along her biceps, brows knitting in silent contemplation.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Irina reminded the queen. “Why do you want an invitation?”
Dubheasa sniffed. “A lady likes to feel wanted.”
Patricio’s deep voice boomed through the
large space. “You aren’t wanted.”
Dubheasa met the angel’s eyes, the edges of her dress curling up into wisps of smoke that seemed more alive than they ought to. Tension buzzed in a sharp spike, raising the hairs on Adonis’ arms. The angel’s sword remained sheathed at his side, but he didn’t need a weapon to threaten the peace. His utter lack of political finesse and his inconvenient temper were more than a match for whatever efforts were made to keep things civil. Let him make himself a target if he wanted to. Perhaps a good smack from the Unseelie queen was precisely what he needed.
Adonis sank onto the couch, scooping up his abandoned whiskey and bracing himself for the final nail in the coffin of peace. He paused with the glass halfway to his lips, offered it to Ivy who had been pulled to the couch beside him by the wing he still held wrapped around her. She waved away the whiskey, her eyes still locked on Patricio, her breath still.
Kirill suddenly stepped forward, black cloak flaring gently behind him. “Your Majesty, do allow me to apologize for our utter failure to show you the welcome that you so deserve. I assure you, if I had known you would be visiting us, I would have taken steps to make certain everyone had a better understanding of the etiquette these rare and momentous occasions call for.”
He looked at Patricio, then glanced from Marcela to Dubheasa. The message was clear. If Dubheasa got angry enough, if the contract of host and guest was broken, it wouldn’t be Patricio who suffered most. It would be his wife.
Patricio clenched his teeth, but held his tongue.
A remarkable victory for the vampire. Adonis downed the rest of the whiskey and flopped back against the couch. I’m too old for this.
Kirill returned his full focus to Dubheasa. “Tell me, Your Majesty. What can we do to make you feel…wanted?”
Dubheasa preened under the blatant flattery, her hands fluttering about her dress like a virgin smoothing her nightgown on her honeymoon. “I’m so very pleased you asked—finally. What I want is quite simple. I want a position in this realm. Not just an invitation to live here, but a position with influence.”
The Archer (The Blood Realm Series Book 3) Page 39
