by Anya Bast
Elizabeth’s stomach growled at the prospect of food. She went for the pair of trousers and the man’s shirt, inhaling for any remaining whiff of her father’s scent, but it was long gone now.
Her mother spooned up stew into bowls and set the table. Elizabeth went to the refrigerator to get the cheese and butter for the thickly sliced bread already on the table.
“I was just out exploring,” Elizabeth finally answered her mother’s question.
She wasn’t very good at lying and hoped her mother wouldn’t press her. Her mother had ways of making people do what she wanted through the food she cooked, like tell the truth when they didn’t want to tell it. It was her strongest talent. If she didn’t do it with her strong intuition, she did it with her tea or baked goods.
They sat down and began to eat. Elizabeth buttered a piece of bread, keeping her eyes away from her mother’s face. These days she needed to be really careful around Thea since she was keeping a secret—an enormous life-changing one.
Her mother stared at her for a long moment, then the small laugh lines around her eyes creased. “You’ve met a man.”
The knife she held clattered to her plate and she glanced up. “What? Why would you say that?” She gave a laugh that sounded a little too tense to be genuine.
“You’ve got a glow about you I’ve never seen before, a glow of excitement. That’s got to be what it is. Tell me about him!” She leaned forward, her face beaming.
Thea wanted so much for Elizabeth to drag herself away from the hermit’s life that her mother was forced to lead because of her sprae dependence—the hermit’s life Elizabeth had grown up leading out of necessity. Thea wanted Elizabeth to meet a man, move to the city, have children, be happy. Above all, avoid the fate of losing her sense-of-self to water.
A life in the city and a family weren’t what Elizabeth wanted at all, despite the sheltered life she’d lived.
“A glow of excitement?” she echoed. Ah. Well, yes, of course. Her life had turned very exciting the moment the Summer Queen had entrusted her with two of the pieces of the bosca fabh and had ordered her to hide them. “I haven’t met a man, Mom. At least, not in the way you’re thinking.”
“Oh.” Her mother sighed and placed a slice of cheese on the heel of the bread. “That’s too bad.”
Elizabeth made a hmmm sound that was as noncommittal as she could make it, then swallowed a spoonful of stew. “Mmmm, good stew.”
Her mother waggled a finger at her. “Don’t change the subject on me, girl. It’s time we had a talk about your future, and this is just the moment to do it.”
She was familiar with this conversational opening. It had to do with the walls of Piefferburg falling and what that meant for the fae.
Elizabeth set her spoon to the side of the bowl and sighed. “Any future that doesn’t include you alive in the world isn’t a future I want to contemplate. Can we not talk about it tonight? Let’s enjoy our food instead.”
Even though she wasn’t hungry anymore.
The sprae provided her mother’s life force. If the walls broke, her mother would die. She’d watched her father and brother die; she wasn’t going to lose her mother, too.
Her mother looked at her sadly. “It’s coming, and everyone knows it. Even living way out here in the Boundary Lands I know it. What must be, will be, my girl. It will be good for you, and I’m thankful for that. The rest of it…” She shrugged. “I simply have to accept.”
Elizabeth steadied her gaze at her mother’s careworn face. The sprae dependent aged more like a human than the fae, and her mother was nearing sixty. “We’ll see about that.”
Thankfully her mother dropped the subject, and the two of them finished their meal making harmless small talk that had nothing to do with death or the betrayal of her people. Those were two subjects Elizabeth wanted none of right now.
After she’d helped her mother clean up, Elizabeth kissed Thea’s cheek and disappeared out the door, vanishing into the woods. As she walked, she shed her clothes. Then she ran, jumped onto a log and launched herself off it, diving through the air as though into a pool. In midair she became water self, splashing into the earth.
All the tension and stress of her life vanished immediately, along with the bulk of her personality. Feeling free, she gathered herself, seeking the underground water source that flowed under her mother’s property and joined it. The only time Elizabeth ever surrendered was when she transformed into water, giving up her physical self to the slow, cool slide of moisture and the path of least resistance.
She flowed through the earth, pushing through dirt and skirting rocks, her fae consciousness a bare echo at the very back of her water awareness. Finding the river that flowed near her mother’s cottage, she joined it and whooshed into the current, twirling and playing, dislodging the pebbles at the bottom and somersaulting along her way—reveling in flow.
When she sensed she’d reached the general area of her destination, she found the now familiar underground stream and rode it as close as she could get to the clearing, then pushed to the surface. She was tired from traveling; it was hard to get through the earth and find a way to break through to the top.
Re-forming near a tree, she lifted her head and shivered. It wasn’t from the cold, though it was really chilly at this time of the year—it was from her location. The place where she’d chosen to hide the pieces of the bosca fadbh was the same place all her nightmares had been forged.
She pushed to her feet and stepped through the underbrush, into the clearing. Every time she came here, she relived it. The flash of metal, the laughter, the bellows of pain. The blood. The bodies.
Finally, the burial.
The sounds echoed through her mind and images flashed. It didn’t matter how hard she pushed them away, they always came anyway. It was not easy for her to come here, but this place served as a reminder of the reason she was betraying her people.
The Black Tower had already taken too much from her.
She needed that reminder because she was very much aware of the treachery she was committing against her people. The guilt was strong, but her fear was stronger. She couldn’t lose Thea—she wouldn’t lose her.
She walked to the base of a tall, thin birch tree, moved a rock and dug into the earth. The ground was cold, but recently turned up, so the dirt gave easily under her fingers. This was where she kept the two pieces of the bosca fabh hidden. Taking the pieces from their hiding place, she unwrapped the fabric that enfolded them and touched their smooth surfaces by the muted, flickering light of the sprae that had gathered around her.
They looked so unimportant, all dull gray metal and uneven edges. They looked like hunks of junk, something to be thrown away or tossed in a bin at an antique store. Instead they were imbued with powerful magick, the ancient magick of her fae ancestors. If she laid her hand on top of the pieces, she could feel it pulsing faintly. It was possibility just waiting to be activated.
And it was her sad job to see that it never was.
That familiar mixture of regret and relief filled her as she verified the pieces were still safe. Slowly, she refolded the fabric and replaced the objects, the voice of the Summer Queen ringing through her ears: “I know you already have one compelling reason to keep these pieces out of the Shadow Queen’s hands, but you know you have another one…don’t you?”
The threat had been audible. If she refused the Summer Queen, she would be killed. But it wasn’t for that reason she’d agreed to hide the pieces. If it was just her life at risk, things would be different…easier.
The pieces hidden once more, she sat down near the base of the tree and closed her eyes, feeling with her senses for Niall Daegan Riordan Quinn’s location. She’d never deliberately sought him out, but after the glimpse she’d had of him today, she wanted another. Once she had a lock on his unique presence, she dissolved, her limbs going soft and her body once again finding its water self and traveling to him.
Re-forming, she found herself at
the edge of a campsite, a fire flickering merrily not far away. Standing, not making a sound, she moved from her place between two bushes and peered through the foliage at him.
She didn’t worry about being caught. Niall remained sadly deluded on this point, but he would never catch her. Watching him now she decided that was somewhat of a pity. Maybe being caught by this man wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to her.
He leaned up against a rock, blanket spread underneath him and the fire crackling and spitting near his booted feet. He had his eyes closed and his hands behind his head, looking restful…maybe just a little defeated. Her lips curled in a smile. His shirt was unbuttoned, giving her a glimpse of his muscular chest and a hint of his broad shoulders. This man was much stronger than her; no doubt about that—but she was faster and trickier.
He had dimples. She hadn’t noticed that before. They gave him a mischievous look. Her gaze traced the curve of his lips, and she wondered what his hands were like, wondered what his hands on her body might feel like.
She knew she shouldn’t be thinking about this man in that way. He was her enemy. He wanted the pieces she was guarding and therefore, by default, his success meant her mother’s death. Still, she couldn’t help fantasizing about this man. She’d been doing it from the first night he’d tracked her down and she’d heard his voice in the darkness, caught the scent of him on the wind. It was true she lived a sheltered life, but she’d met plenty of men, mostly nature fae—this man was different. This one called to her in a primal way.
This one made her wonder what it would be like to slide naked down the length of him, to feel the cup of his big hands on her body and the fit of him between her thighs. Maybe it was just because he was the one man she could never have, or maybe there was something more substantial to her attraction.
Either way, it didn’t matter.
This was just fantasy. She couldn’t have this man. Not even for one night.
NIALL opened his eyes, feeling the pressure of someone’s presence nearby. Elizabeth. It had to be.
He remained still, searching the area with his senses for her exact location. Once he thought he had it—she was right there, between those two bushes—he sprang to his feet and lunged for her.
A woman’s yelp. A flash of a long, peach-colored form. The softest brush of bare skin against his fingertips.
Then nothing.
He lay sprawled in the foliage, cursing under his breath, branches poking him in the side and leaves tickling his nose. Then he rolled onto his back. Sweet Danu, she’d been naked again. He rubbed his fingers together, recalling the lovely sensation of her skin.
He wanted more.
TWO
GIDEON P. Amberdoyal, archdirector of the Phaendir, stood at the window of his office and watched the military mill in front of the Piefferburg Gates a distance down the road. To one side of the gravel lane leading to the massive gates was the Church of Labrai and its cemetery, the roosting place of all the black vultures in this region. The birds swooped in the sky, playing in the air currents, blissfully unaware of the chaos below them.
The U.S. government had sent the two hundred and ninety-fifth Heavy Brigade Combat Team of the United States National Guard along with the state and local police. Not only were they creating a net to catch stray fae—a total joke that they even could—they were preventing the Phaendir from storming the gates and committing wholesale slaughter.
They were a buffer—with guns.
What the United States thought was going to happen here was beyond him. They lacked the stomach, Gideon suspected, to go on the offensive against the fae, yet their defenses wouldn’t be strong enough to contain the fae if the walls broke.
Idiots.
Something in his jaw cracked and he forced himself to unclench his teeth. It was not a pleasant sight—seeing those humans there.
He felt the presence behind him a moment before he heard a soft rustle of fabric and a knock on the doorframe.
Gideon turned to see Brother Cadwyr. He wore the traditional black cloak of a brother and even had a tonsure, worn only by the most devout. Brother Cadwyr was extremely dedicated to their cause and was currently Gideon’s second-in-command. Should he disappear, Cadwyr would be left in charge. Gideon trusted him to follow the Phaendir’s ultimate agenda in every way.
“Brother Gideon, everything is ready for your trip.”
Gideon nodded. “Thank you.”
“Good luck, my brother, and may Labrai be ever at your side.”
“And at yours.”
Brother Cadwyr bowed deeply at the waist and held the position for several moments, a mark of deep respect. Then he turned and left. Brother Gideon went back to gazing out the window toward the gates, trying not to think about what he was soon to do.
The wounds from his most recent flogging—a little more energetic than normal—ached sweetly with his every movement. Blood still seeped down his wrists, having soaked through the bandages he’d wrapped himself in.
The self-flagellation was more than just a prayer he made to his god, Labrai; it cleared his mind, helped him plan for the challenges that he now faced. Challenges unlike any that had faced a leader of the Phaendir before.
Clearly Labrai understood he could handle what was to come. He had chosen him to undertake these difficulties, after all. Pride swelled his chest. When this was over he would go down in history as the man who’d changed the course for Phaendir everywhere.
The time was so close.
Gideon lifted his chin a little and gazed past the magickal barrier surrounding Piefferburg that only the Phaendir and the fae could see. No inferior human eye could detect it. None of these ants scurrying around Protection City right now had any true idea of the power behind Phaendir hive magick. It was made of Phaendir faith—and that was unbreakable. Those walls would never fall. How could they?
The delay in storming Piefferburg chafed because he’d been dreaming of shedding fae blood for so long, but, luckily, it appeared he did have a little time to spare. Who had known that some of the fae inside Piefferburg actually wanted to stay there?
Namely, the Summer Queen.
His spies had told him that two of the three pieces of the bosca fadbh had gone missing. The Summer Queen had fled with them, and no one knew where she was hiding. The Seelie Court had been set adrift. The Shadow Queen sat in her Unseelie Black Tower with only two of the four ingredients for the recipe she was sure would grant her people freedom. Useless. All the fae were on edge, and whispers of another fae war were growing louder.
Clearly Labrai was shining down his love on the Phaendir. Gideon relaxed his shoulders a little. With such a powerful force on their side, they wouldn’t be able to lose. Life would be perfect if Watt Syndrome would reignite, but not even he could hope for such splendor.
Someone knocked on his door, and Gideon turned to find Colonel McGivens of the National Guard standing in the archway. His lip curled, though he tried to keep the sneer off his face. McGivens was a burly human with a meaty build and an even meatier mind. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, you can help me,” McGivens barked. “You can keep yer gawddamn brothers out from underfoot. They’re getting in the way of my men while they’re securing the perimeter.”
Gideon gripped the back of his chair and counted to five slowly. “While your men are securing the perimeter, the brothers of the Order of the Phaendir are securing the magickal barrier.” He paused and gritted his teeth. “You know, that thing that keeps the fae in Piefferburg?” He paused, tipping his head to the side and considering the colonel. “Which job do you think is more important, making sure the magick keeping the fae prisoner stays up or creating a net of flimsy humans the fae will rip through like aluminum foil should they escape?”
McGivens pointed a fat finger at him, and his flabby jowls turned red. The man never missed a meal. “I didn’t come here a newborn babe, Archdirector Amberdoyal. I know you people can do yer mojo from a distance. There’s no gawddamn
reason they should be out by the wall!”
There was a reason, of course, but Gideon wasn’t about to tell him what. Gideon shifted, as if unconcerned by his outburst, and adjusted his cuff links.
The general’s gaze strayed to the bloody bandages around Gideon’s wrists and his nose wrinkled in disgust. “We’re getting ready to call in the whole division. I won’t have the general annoyed by yer antics. The Phaendir are restricted, as of now, from entering a twenty-foot perimeter from the main gates and the wall. I don’t gawddamn want to see any gawddamn one of ya near it from now on. Understand?” The man’s limited swearing ability was rivaled only by his limited mind.
Gideon stared at him coolly.
McGivens didn’t wait for an answer, probably because he knew he’d be waiting for the next century or two. Instead he whirled and strode from the room.
The colonel could get snatched by a goblin and have his spleen eaten for all Gideon cared. He needed his men close to that wall. He turned and gazed out toward the gates.
He was going to have to get close, himself. Closer than he’d ever been. He shuddered.
But he was Labrai’s instrument, his hand an extension of His will. He would do what needed to be done.
NIALL stalked through the halls of the Black Tower, scowling at everyone he met and pushing past the individuals who didn’t have the good sense to stay out of his way. He was here to deliver bad news to the Shadow Queen—news of his failure—and that never put him in a good mood.
A week of hunting and he’d caught nothing but a handful of moonbeams, a whiff of flowered soap, and a whisper of silken soft skin. No stolen pieces. Only defeat.
He made his way through the glossy black marble corridors of the Unseelie Court, to the ornately carved door of the Shadow Queen’s quarters. The two black-and-silver-garbed Shadow Guard on either side of the entrance recognized him and gave him access immediately.
