“Our someone likes to hedge bets,” Rune said. “But he made another mistake by not destroying that file.”
Aryal yawned. She had stretched out on the floor, her long legs crossed at the ankle. She said in a drowsy voice, “I could start bitch-slapping people. Sooner or later somebody would squawk.”
Niniane was so tired. It had sunk deeper than her bones and become a cold ache that dragged at her spirits. It was exhaustion that made her eyes leak. It had to be.
She said, “I don’t know why you’re all being so circumspect. It’s not like you to dance around something instead of just saying it.”
Tiago’s arms tightened. He held her with his whole body, but it was Rune who asked, “What do you mean, pip-squeak?”
“Anybody who had been in that mansion could have found that file,” she said. “But the one who probably did was the one responsible for going through Urien’s financial papers, as well as for overseeing all the other Dark Fae financial matters.”
Aryal tilted her head to look at Niniane. The harpy wore a rare expression of sympathy.
Rune said, “You think the killer was Chancellor Aubrey.”
“I don’t want to think that,” she said. Her voice sounded small, and as cold as the rest of her had become. “But suspecting him without proof would have been more than enough reason to keep Arethusa quiet.” She tilted back her head to look up at Tiago. “What do you think?”
His hard-edged face was quietly savage as he looked at the pain in her face.
Aubrey had said to Niniane, If I had known you were alive, I would never have stopped searching for you. It had felt like the truth. What if the reasons behind the statement were much less benign than what Aubrey had inferred? Had he ever unequivocally refuted his distant connection to the throne?
Upon reflection, Tiago thought not. It disturbed him, especially considering how Aubrey was already centrally positioned in the Dark Fae government and secure in his allies and relationships. Now one of the major Dark Fae power brokers was dead, the checks-and-balance system built into their triad disrupted, and their army leaderless.
He kissed Niniane with lingering tenderness. Then he said, “I think we should get to Adriyel as fast as we can.”
NINETEEN
Change of plans.
They could not take Aubrey into custody without proof, not with so many highly placed witnesses present, and they could not allow him to reconnect with his power base in Adriyel and possibly gain control of the army. The same applied to Kellen. Without proof, they could not conclusively clear Kellen of suspicion. For all they knew, Aubrey and Kellen might have struck up an alliance and were now working together. Niniane had to leave, and quickly, but she also had to travel in the right way. If it were a simple matter of who reached Adriyel first, Tiago, Rune and Aryal could shift into their Wyr forms and carry her to Adriyel in a matter of hours, not days. But she could not be seen to take power through the Wyr.
She said to Tiago, “The troops need to go with us.”
“Agreed,” Tiago said. “Yesterday Arethusa told me the trip would take the group three days from this point forward. We had an easy day, so our horses are still fresh. If we travel light and push it, we can make Adriyel in a day, maybe a day and a half.” He looked at Rune and Aryal. “You need to stay behind and monitor what everyone does when we leave.”
Aryal stretched and sat up. “Should be interesting.”
Cameron pushed through the hangings, shoes in one hand, scabbard in the other, her hair tousled and face creased. She said in a sleep-gravelly voice, “What about me?”
“You come up with us,” Tiago said.
Cameron nodded. She looked unsurprised. She slanted a grin at Niniane and said, “My sore ass can’t wait.”
Niniane snorted. “Mine either.”
Tiago passed a hand over Niniane’s hair. “Do you need to sleep for an hour or two before we leave?”
She shook her head. “I rested and ate. I’ll live.”
“Right. Here’s packing made easy for you. It’ll be a food, water and weapons kind of trip.” He stood and set her gently on her feet. “I’ll go muster the troops and get our horses saddled. Plan to leave in half an hour. Less if I can manage it.”
“Okay.” She watched him leave then she looked at Cameron. “That gives you time to eat something.”
Cameron looked around at the empty cooler and array of empty containers. Her eyebrows rose.
Niniane picked up her plate of food and handed it to the other woman. “I just nibbled around the edges. Mr. Incredible served me enough food to last a week. Finish that while I make us some coffee.”
“You’re the coolest princess I’ve ever met,” Cameron said.
She filled a metal pot with water and set it on the brazier to boil. Then Rune and Aryal took their leave to wash and change into clean clothes and, as Rune said, prepare for mass consternation and misbehavior. They each gave Niniane a hard hug. “See you at the other end,” said Rune.
“Be careful,” she told him.
“You too, pip-squeak.” He smiled and touched her nose.
When it was her turn to say good-bye, Aryal said, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Niniane opened and closed her mouth. She said, “I have no idea how to respond to that.”
“Yeah, well.” Aryal’s hug lifted her off her feet. Then the harpy followed Rune out.
The water in the pot boiled. She set about the comforting, familiar routine of making coffee while Cameron ate everything left on the plate. Niniane tried to drink her coffee but it was too hot. She had a sense of time flashing by too fast as it raced toward an inevitable, deadly foreign place, like a curtain of water that spilled over a waterfall to shatter on jagged rocks. Her hands shook as she added cold water from a canteen to the steaming brew so she could drink the contents down.
Cameron did the same with her coffee. As the other woman drained her cup, Durin said from outside the tent, “Your highness.”
“Come in, Durin,” she said.
He lifted the flap and looked in at them both, his expression grave. “It is time to leave.”
“All right.” She stood, and Cameron grabbed her sword in its scabbard and shrugged into the shoulder harness.
Dawn had come and gone. In the full light of morning the area sparkled with melting frost. The area stirred with restlessness. Niniane could hear the jingle of horse harnesses and raised voices coming from the troops’ area of the encampment. Durin stepped close so that Niniane was sandwiched between him and Cameron. He gestured to one side of her tent, opposite the direction of the troops. Cameron frowned, and Niniane looked at him in quick inquiry. “The troops are garnering a lot of attention from the others,” Durin said rapidly in a low-toned voice. “We thought it would be faster and quieter to take you out this way. We must move quickly now.”
She nodded and turned in the direction he indicated. Cameron put a hand to Niniane’s back and turned with her, and Niniane felt the other woman’s hand clench in a fist in the material of her sweater. Cameron threw her hard.
Wait, what?
Niniane stumbled forward, trying in vain to correct her balance as she bounced off the taut material of the tent wall. Then she reached the dipping point and fell forward. She tucked her shoulder as she had been taught, hit the ground and rolled. As she fell, she heard a ringing metallic noise that was the sound of swords clashing. Her mind still stuttering, she came up on her hands and knees. She spun around to look.
Cameron and Durin were fighting. Cameron shifted to block the Dark Fae male’s sword thrust. Cameron’s movements were athletic and confident, but Durin moved with such deadly, accomplished style and grace, it was clear the human woman was hopelessly outmatched. Cameron said to her, “Run.”
She jumped to her feet, staring as she backed up.
An arm hooked around her neck, and she felt the cold, hard edge of a knife at her jugular. The blade bit into her skin. The sting came a moment later, and she
felt the wet trickle of blood.
“I might have known,” Naida said in her ear. “Nothing’s gone right since you crawled out of the woodwork.”
Ah damn.
Durin surged forward, his sword flashing in a complicated series of movements, and Cameron’s sword went flying. She spun and kicked, but he lunged forward, too close for her to land a proper blow. At the same time he reversed his hold on his sword and slammed the hilt into her jaw. Cameron dropped without a sound.
“Keep your hands where I can see them.” The warmth of Naida’s breath tickled her ear. “I have no intention of letting you poison me like you did Geril and his friends.”
She held her hands up. Naida turned her around and marched her rapidly toward the edge of camp. Durin fell into place beside them. He kept his sword unsheathed as he looked around them with sharp eyes. She gritted, “I can’t believe nobody is seeing this.”
“They’re all arguing and watching the soldiers prepare to leave,” Naida said. Within moments they reached the edge of the clearing, and Naida forced her to move faster until they were running. Naida said to Durin, “What is taking so long?”
“Ryle can’t get to the Chancellor,” the captain said. “The Wyr bitch is watching him too closely.”
Who was Ryle? Not one of the soldiers. One of Naida and Aubrey’s attendants? Niniane’s gaze slid sideways to Durin. The Dark Fae male’s face was bleak.
I have killed someone I liked before, Carling had said. I have killed someone and felt regret.
“You did it,” she said to him. “You killed Arethusa. She was your commanding officer. She trusted you, and you killed her. How could you?”
Durin’s red-rimmed gaze flashed to her, then he looked away.
“He did it for the greater good,” Naida said. They came to four tethered horses that were bridled but not saddled. Naida jerked Niniane to a halt. “Keep your hands up.” She said to Durin, “Search her for weapons.”
Durin sheathed his sword and ran his hands over Niniane. He was as fast and expert in searching her as he was in doing everything else. She sighed as he took her stilettos from her pocket. He tucked the small sheathed knives inside his shirt. When she was disarmed Durin tied her hands behind her back with a strip of leather as she looked at Naida for the first time.
Naida’s sophisticated, immaculate appearance was gone. Her sturdy travel clothes looked rumpled. She carried a leather pack slung on one shoulder. She looked exhausted, and her usually sleek hair was tousled. Lines of stress marked her pale skin. Well, good. She ought to look like shit.
Niniane said between her teeth, “I’m a little surprised you’re going to all this trouble. Why haven’t you already killed me?”
“I wish you’d died on the first attempt, but things are no longer that simple. Actually I wish you’d never resurfaced,” said Naida. Her indifferent gaze flicked over Niniane’s figure, then she looked away. “You should have stayed in the past, along with the rest of your family. It’s not enough to just kill you. We also need to survive so we can put my husband on the throne where he belongs.”
The utter callousness in Naida’s voice made Niniane’s breath catch. Durin had tied her hands so tight she was rapidly losing feeling in her fingers. She twisted her wrists in an attempt to reach the knots, but she couldn’t. But the binding was leather. Sooner or later, it would have to stretch. She worked her wrists back and forth.
Two of the horses had saddlebags slung on their backs. Why weren’t they saddled? She was willing to bet there hadn’t been time. Naida, Durin, Aubrey, Ryle and whoever else was working with them were reacting to the moment. Did they really think they had a chance of getting away free and clear from any pursuers?
She said, “This is not going to go the way you think it will.”
“Do you think not?” Naida shook her head. “We must improvise with the tools we find in front of us.”
She watched as Naida knelt and put her pack on the ground. “Naida, listen to me,” she said. “This has spun too far out of control. There are too many people involved. There are Carling and the other vampires, Kellen, Tiago and the sentinels, let alone the rest of the troops. They are never going to forgive or forget what Durin did to Arethusa.”
She saw Durin flinch out of the corner of her eye. Was that a weakness she could exploit? Warmth slid along the skin of her hands, and she realized she had rubbed her wrists raw. Good thing she couldn’t feel it very well. Maybe the blood soaking into the leather would help stretch it out. Okay, so that was a long shot, but she had no choice but to give it a try. She tucked her chin against her chest and kept twisting.
“The only two people we need to stop are you and your filthy animal,” Naida said.
Filthy animal. She tucked her chin in further and gave serious thought to some head-butting action. Apparently they didn’t want her dead right away. One really good crack, and she could break Naida’s patrician nose.
Naida continued. “If we kill the both of you, there is no succession to protect. Aubrey is the only real choice for the throne. He has cared for the Dark Fae people and worked on our behalf for far longer than you and I have been alive. His wisdom and experience in governance is unparalleled. The Elder tribunal will come to see his ascension as inevitable. And the Wyr have no right to stay in Dark Fae land, especially since your animal has cut all official ties with the Wyr Lord. They will have to leave. I doubt the Wyrkind will be interested in an alliance with us after this, but I am not concerned about that. The Dark Fae have done well enough without a Wyr alliance for the last two hundred years. We will succeed, especially when we place the right Commander at the head of the Dark Fae army.”
The right Commander. Gotcha.
“Greater good, my ass,” she growled. “Durin murdered Arethusa so he could become Commander, and if Aubrey becomes Dark Fae King, you get to rule by his side, which is all that matters to you, you psychotic bitch.”
Naida opened the pack. She said with edged calm, “You talk like the trash you have become. Speaking of tools, you know, exploring Urien’s house gave me a fruitful education and some unexpected opportunities.”
“If you’re referring to Urien’s fake company, we already know about it,” Niniane said.
“That tool is no longer useful. I refer to more than just that.” She reached into the pack and pulled out two sets of black chains with manacles. They radiated a kind of Power that raised Niniane’s hackles.
“What the hell are those?” she whispered.
“Urien made them,” Naida said. “He was such an expert metallurgist, and so gifted with Power. He was one of the most accomplished of us, and his notes on his research were meticulous.”
“You’ve got to be joking,” she said. “He was a treasonous mass-murdering, self-serving, Power-hungry bastard.”
Naida sighed. “Oh, get over it.” The Dark Fae woman regarded the manacles. Her gray eyes gleamed with admiration. “He designed these specifically to imprison Wyr. Apparently they worked so well they shackled the Great Beast himself. According to Urien’s notes, even though the Beast freed himself, he was not able to break these bindings.”
Oh shit. Niniane’s breath hitched and she grew still. She had heard of those shackles. They had been used when Urien had had Dragos and Pia kidnapped and imprisoned in the Goblin stronghold. They had blocked Dragos’s ability to shapeshift into his dragon form. Dragos had been able to gain his freedom only after finding the key to the shackles. Preoccupied with getting to Pia as fast as he could, he had lost the shackles and had been obsessed with trying to find them ever since.
A frigid gale-force wind howled through the trees, blasting into the clearing, and the bright sunlit autumn morning disintegrated as black clouds churned across the sky. Durin swore under his breath, and Naida looked up, her face blank with astonishment, as a massive bolt of lightning ripped the heavens. Thunder exploded.
Niniane didn’t give herself time to think. She took a step forward, lifted a leg and slammed the heel
of her boot into Naida’s face as hard as she could.
Bone crunched. Blood spurted from Naida’s nose as her head snapped back.
Durin lunged to grab her, but she knew she had no hope of getting away. She was only interested in inflicting as much damage as she could. Durin missed as she let herself fall back on the ground. Agony shot through her shoulders as she landed on her bound arms. She ignored it, rolled toward him and sent the most vicious kick she could muster to the side of his knee.
Durin hissed in pain and toppled sideways to the ground.
Holy cow. She actually managed to get in two good, solid hits in a row. The sentinels were going to be high-fiving each other at her funeral.
She rolled desperately, throwing all her strength into trying to get some distance between herself and the other two. Hey, miracles happened all the time. You never know, she might make it. She might—
An iron-hard grip clamped on to her ankle. Gasping hard for air, she flipped on her back again and tried to kick at whoever held her, but Durin pushed forward onto her legs, and though she screamed in rage and bucked and kicked as hard as she could, she could not dislodge him.
That was when the monster walked into the clearing. He moved with a speed that was shocking for one of his massive build. He carried a sword in each talon-tipped hand, and his teeth were too long and sharp. His eyes blazed white like twin stars, and oh gods, she loved him so much, and she knew why they had kept her alive for so long, because she was both bait and leverage, literally all they had to use against the onslaught of this nightmare.
Durin sank a fist into her hair and yanked her up until she was on her knees. He jerked her head back, and Naida moved up beside her to put the knife at her throat.
Naida said, “Stop.”
The monster’s blazing eyes fixed on Niniane. He stopped.
“Drop your weapons.” Naida sounded ragged.
No no no.
His hands opened. The swords fell to the ground.
Vaguely she was aware of other people racing into the clearing, and something lethal and winged soaring over the trees. A harpy’s enraged shriek sounded in the air overhead. Somewhere close, Rune swore and ordered people to stay back. None of them mattered. The world had narrowed to just her and Tiago, Durin and Naida, and the knife at her throat.
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