Storm's Heart er-2

by Thea Harrison

  Niniane nodded and let her head rest against Tiago again. He stroked her silken black hair. He heard footsteps as someone approached. He took Niniane’s shoulders to ease her away, so he could turn to face the tent flap unencumbered.

  Just outside, captain Durin said in a quiet voice, “Excuse me, your highness?”

  “Yes, Durin, come in,” said Niniane.

  Tiago noted with approval as Cameron shifted into a defensive position, mirroring his placement between Niniane and the tent opening. The tent flap lifted, and the Dark Fae male stepped just inside, his expression diffident.

  “What is it, captain?” Niniane asked.

  “With your approval, ma’am, I would like to set up shifts to guard your tent,” the captain said.

  Exhaustion made her slow to react. She looked at Tiago in tired surprise. He said in her head, I approve. You reached out to them, and now they’re claiming you for their own. This is a very good step forward.

  She nodded. She said to the captain, “It’s an excellent idea. Work with Tiago to arrange the details. He is responsible for security, and you are to answer to him from now on.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Durin looked at him. “Sir?”

  “Keep the shifts short and make sure rations are generous,” Tiago told him. “Everybody’s tired. I don’t expect we’ll be moving now until tomorrow morning. I’ll come by later today to see if there’s anything you need to discuss. That will be all for now, captain.”

  “Yes, sir.” Durin bowed his head to Niniane and left.

  “Speaking of tired,” Tiago said. He looked at Cameron. “Get some bunk time while you can.”

  “Good idea, if you’re sure you don’t need me,” said Cameron. She turned to go.

  “No, wait!” Niniane said, her pixie face filled with alarm. She grabbed the other woman’s arm. “Lie down in my bed.”

  Cameron’s face softened. “Niniane, you need your bed.”

  “I don’t need it any time soon,” she said, her expression turning stubborn. “And I don’t want you going off by yourself.”

  Cameron looked at him. He raised his eyebrows and said, “You heard her. Go to bed.”

  Cameron’s face creased with exasperated amusement. “Remember, I’ve also heard you two when you argue. I never would have guessed you could present such a united front.”

  Niniane smiled at him, and for a moment all the shadows in her eyes had vanished. She said, “We’re learning as we go.”

  “And we’re doing a damn-fine job of it,” he added.

  “And on that note,” Cameron said. She put an arm around Niniane’s slender shoulders for a quick squeeze. Niniane gave her a quick fierce hug in return, and then Cameron retired to the other part of the tent and they were finally alone.

  Tiago walked to the wooden chair where his steaming cup of coffee and the leather-wrapped package waited on the floor. He shrugged off his sword harness, placed the scabbard on the floor then sat and stretched his legs with a grunt. It was a good, sturdy chair of Dark Fae construction, with interlocking parts that could be disassembled for easier transportation. It bore his weight and size well. He approved.

  “I have a lap that requires a faerie’s presence,” he remarked to the room in general.

  Niniane’s tired face lightened. She approached, and he gathered her up, wrapping his arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and let her body go lax with a sigh. He rested his cheek against her soft, fragrant hair.

  I have been waiting quite patiently, he said. For which you may compliment me any time you like, but now I want to know what upset you before you went to bed.

  He felt the relaxation leave her body. His mood, already not the best, darkened further. His arms tightened.

  Silence stretched out. Then she said, “Can we agree that events have been moving at an extraordinary pace?”

  He nodded thoughtfully.

  “Have we not also agreed that we will trust each other to do our jobs?”

  His eyes narrowed. Another nod.

  She walked small fingers across his chest. “Shall we consider the possibility that our jobs might also entail assimilating all of these new events and decisions we have made?”

  “Yes,” he said between his teeth. “Faerie, you should know I am no longer enamored with this line of reasoning—”

  “No arguments,” she ordered. She tapped a finger against his lips. He sighed and pressed a kiss to the admonishing finger. “Perhaps we should then conclude that the troubles I went to bed with may not necessarily be of real concern at this point in time, especially with so many other urgent matters that require our attention.”

  “Nope,” he said. “That was a good try but it doesn’t fly. You promised you would talk to me about what upset you. I’m holding you to it.”

  Another silence, a tense one this time. Then she pushed upright to look into his eyes gravely. “I did promise, didn’t I?” she said. “I’m sorry, Tiago. I talked with Carling, who pointed out some unpleasant facts about you and me and this new life we’re trying to build with the Dark Fae.”

  “That crazy-assed bitch,” he growled. “I swear to God I’m going to—”

  She clapped a hand over his mouth before he could go further. She demanded, “Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?”

  He took a deep breath, made himself calm down and kissed the palm of her hand. “My turn to apologize,” he said. “I’m sorry, go on.”

  “There’s not much more to tell,” she said. “She just pointed out we can only hope for a certain amount of acceptance but no more. No one will believe that you don’t intend to share the throne if we were to marry. And nobody, not the Dark Fae and certainly not any of the other demesnes, will accept half-Wyr children as potential heirs to the Dark Fae throne.”

  He grew grim as she talked. “What was the part that hurt you the most?”

  Her gaze fell.

  Everything clenched inside him. Maybe you can’t make this better, she had said. Sometimes things just hurt. A ball of burning lava lodged in his chest. “It was the thought of never having children, wasn’t it?”

  She shook her head. “It started there, but you know, mostly I think I’m having a problem with the concepts of ‘forever’ and ‘never.’ I don’t want to think in absolutes. I’m not dying to have children, but I also don’t want to say I’ll never have them, especially just to placate other people. And I am not thrilled with the thought of committing to the Dark Fae throne for the rest of my life, especially today of all days.” She looked up, met his gaze, and the shock of the connection between them was deeper and more profound than ever. She whispered, “There’s only one thing and one person right now I am wholly committed to, and that’s you.”

  He made his lungs expand and discovered he could breathe again. He cupped her face in both hands and kissed her, savoring the texture of her soft open lips.

  “Only one person,” he whispered. Only one thing.

  She put her cheek against his and nuzzled him. “Would you like children some day?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. He ran his hands down her shapely back. “Maybe. I like children. I would like your children. I must confess, this is not a subject to which I have given much thought.”

  “Me neither,” she sighed. She switched to telepathy. You know, we might decide some day that I should abdicate. I would like to see how we feel about things after we’ve opened the Dark Fae borders and brought the rest of my family’s murderers to justice. I don’t think we need to stress too much over the long term when meeting our short-term goals is enough of a challenge.

  That is a good point, he said. One step at a time. Now, about marriage.

  She kissed him. What about it?

  Do you require this ritual for happiness? We can always marry in secret, if you like. He brushed a lock of her hair out of her beautiful eyes.

  She stuck out her lower lip and grumbled, I would like to point out I am actually much more Wyr than anybody has given
me credit for thus far. I mean, hello, I moved in with you all when I was seventeen, remember. I know to a lot of you geriatrics that’s not such a long time ago, but it’s quite a significant length of time to me. Tiago, are we mated or not?

  We are indeed, he said.

  She went nose-to-nose with him. And will you have me and no other?

  I will. He touched her delicate skin. And will you have me and no other?

  For the rest of my life. She smiled. “So I reckon that’s that.”

  “I reckon it is.” He smiled back.

  “Here, drink your coffee before it gets any colder.” She leaned sideways to pick up the cup on the floor by his chair and paused. She cocked her head. “What is this package?”

  He leaned over and looked at it too. “It’s the next thing on my to-do list after I talk with you.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a message from a dead woman.” Niniane looked at him quickly, and he explained how he had acquired it.

  “How could you not open it right away?” she exclaimed. She snatched the packet up and thrust it into his hands.

  “It has quite a high priority rating,” he said. “But making sure you were okay was the most important thing to me.”

  “I think that’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me.” She slid off his lap to kneel on the ground in front of him. She leaned against his legs and nodded to the package. “Hurry up, open it.”

  He turned it over in his hands, considering. It was roughly nine inches by six or seven, and more or less flat, wrapped in leather and bound with a thin length of cord that was firmly knotted. He pulled out a pocketknife and slit the strip. Then he folded back the leather cover. Inside was a manila envelope that had been folded in half. He opened the envelope and pulled out the contents.

  The message from the dead woman came in the form of corporation papers, owned by a dead man.

  The papers were for Tri-State Financial Services, complete with bank account and checkbook. The company supposedly had been incorporated by Cuelebre Enterprises, but the single shareholder listed was Urien Lorelle.

  Son of a bitch.

  * * *

  A little while later, Niniane lay curled in a pile of pillows on the floor near the brazier. Tiago had erupted out of the chair to prowl the confines of the tent when they had discovered the contents of the packet. After the stress of the broken night, her energy had already been at low ebb. He had far more stamina than she ever would. She couldn’t keep up with him and didn’t even try.

  He had paused in his furious pacing to drape a soft woolen blanket over her curled form. Then he opened one of the nylon coolers that he had tucked into one corner of the tent the evening before. He piled a variety of foods onto a plate, which included quintessential American fare like fried chicken, potato salad, and cherry and apple turnovers. Then he slapped the laden plate on the floor in front of her and ordered her with a glare to eat, the warlord mother hen at his finest.

  So she rested, watched him and nibbled.

  Then Aryal’s voice sounded just outside the tent. “So you two clowns are on guard duty now? Good for you. Move or I’ll break your legs.”

  Niniane choked on a piece of potato, coughed and swallowed hard. She exclaimed, “Aryal!”

  Tiago stopped pacing and turned to the front of the tent.

  “What!” Aryal snapped back. The harpy sounded even more bad-tempered than usual. “They’ve been taking the same trip we have. You would think they would know by now they don’t have to guard you from me or Rune.”

  Niniane let her head fall back on a pillow and covered her eyes with one hand. She said to Tiago, “Now is not the time for anyone to be working my last nerve.”

  “I feel you on that one,” he said between his teeth. His upper lip curled in a snarl.

  Then with exquisite politeness, a Dark Fae male said, “Your highness, forgive me for interrupting you at your rest. Wyr sentinels Aryal and Rune request an audience with you.”

  Close on the heels of that, Aryal’s sarcastic mutter was clearly audible. “Ding-fucking-dong. Ooh, what a surprise. Someone’s at the door.”

  Rune said, “This is why you have so few friends, dipshit.”

  Niniane clapped her other hand over her mouth. Don’t laugh. After a moment she managed to say, “Thank you for letting me know. . . .” She lifted her fingers from her eyes to squint at Tiago.

  That one is Bruin, Tiago told her.

  “Thank you, Bruin. Aryal and Rune may enter.”

  “Yes, your highness,” said the soldier.

  She muttered, “Although if they don’t start pretending to have some manners I’m going to kick them out again.”

  Tiago put his hands on his hips. “You’ll have to get in line, faerie.”

  She sat up as the sentinels stepped into the tent. Her exasperation faded as she got a good look at them. They were streaked with mud and dirt, and both looked tired. Aryal’s gaze fell on her plate. The harpy’s expression turned hopeful and she started forward. “There’s food?”

  Tiago smacked Aryal in the back of the head. It didn’t look like a gentle blow. “Touch her plate and die.”

  “Ow!” Aryal glared at him and rubbed the back of her head.

  “There’s still plenty in the cooler,” Niniane told them.

  Rune had already gone to investigate. He bit half the meat off a chicken leg in one bite and chewed as he stretched his neck first one way then the other. “We’ve done all we can,” he said around his mouthful. “Durin and one of Kellen’s attendants have treated Arethusa’s body with herbs and wrapped it, so it’s ready to be transported to Adriyel for a proper burial.”

  Wyr tended to prefer cremation, so when Rune mentioned a “proper” burial, which was more of a Dark Fae concept, it was clear he was speaking to the two sets of ears on the other side of the tent walls. Tiago shook his head and strode outside. Niniane, Rune and Aryal fell silent. They listened as he told the two guards, “We have too many guards and not enough off-rotation. I’ll send for the next pair when we need them. For now, go get some shut-eye.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Tiago reappeared. He scooped up Niniane, blanket and all, and settled in a chair again with her in his lap. Rune carried the cooler to the second chair, and Aryal sprawled on the floor beside him. The two sentinels divided the cooler’s contents between them.

  Niniane rested her forehead in the crook of Tiago’s neck and let her eyes drift half closed. Tiago told the other two, “Spill it.”

  Aryal licked sugar from a turnover off of her fingers. “Inconclusive. We’re Wyr on Dark Fae land. We can only request others’ cooperation; we can’t command it. We could only take things so far when we questioned people.”

  The growl started so low in Tiago’s chest, Niniane was probably the only one who heard it. She put her flattened hand against his heavy pectoral, stroking, and he quieted.

  Rune said, “Arethusa’s body has a wound behind one ear, caused by a blow made with some kind of blunt object, but her death looks consistent with drowning. Theoretically she could have slipped, hit her head and drowned, but it’s clear by how everyone is acting that nobody believes her death was an accident. The problem is, there’s simply no proof. Whoever killed her knew just what to do. They watched and waited until most of the encampment was asleep or in their tents. They had to have waded in the water because there’s no definitive scent in the immediate area.”

  “Don’t misunderstand, there are plenty of scents and plenty of tracks,” Aryal muttered. “We scoured every inch of the riverbank, and they’re all over the goddamn place. And almost everybody has something wet or damp in their possession. The whole camp has been down to the river at some point, to either wash or haul water.”

  Rune opened the container of potato salad. He took the fork Niniane had left on her abandoned plate and began shoveling food into his mouth. He said, “I think the killer did the simplest thing possible and bashed her
over the head with a rock, threw the murder weapon into the water and let the river take care of the rest. Maybe it was someone Arethusa trusted, or at least someone she discounted as a threat, or maybe it was someone capable of sneaking up behind her and catching her by surprise. It had to be one or the other. Arethusa wouldn’t have turned her back to just anybody.”

  The thought of such quiet, calculating malice made Niniane shudder. Tiago cupped her cheek. His fingers curled around the back of her neck, underneath her hair, and he stroked her face with his thumb. He nodded to the manila envelope on the floor and told Aryal and Rune, “Look at what Arethusa left for me, in care of one of her men.”

  Aryal pulled out the checkbook and papers. The harpy held them up so she and Rune could both stare at them. Rune murmured, “That’s motive right there, baby.”

  “Here’s how I piece it together,” Tiago said. “Someone works on Geril and gets him to try to kill Niniane. That someone also has access to Urien’s mansion, finds this bogus company in his files and decides to use it. If Geril succeeds, he gets paid. If fallout from Niniane’s death causes an investigation that uncovers the payment, the Wyr get blamed. Only Arethusa talked to us, so she didn’t stop digging when she was supposed to, and she found this file. She kept quiet because she knew one of the Dark Fae had done it, but she wasn’t sure who.”

  “She wouldn’t have had the authority to dig through Aubrey’s or Kellen’s belongings, not without creating a big stink,” Niniane said. “We would have heard if that had happened.”

  “And we didn’t slink off in disgrace the way we were meant to,” Rune said. He sat forward, his elbows on his knees. “So—what, you think maybe someone discovered this file had gone missing? I wonder where it was when Arethusa found it.”

  “Our someone wouldn’t have wanted to keep something so incriminating,” Tiago said. “The file was probably put back where it had been found in case it might be useful again, or better yet, it was hidden somewhere else, in a cubbyhole, or stuffed under towels in a linen closet. That was a big house. It had a lot of hiding places.”