Thief of Light

by Denise Rossetti

  Prue stepped neatly around him. “Don’t be ridiculous. More like a month, a fortnight if we’re lucky.”

  “Prue.” Erik snagged her elbow and she froze, glaring. “I don’t have that sort of time, neither does Caracole.” Slowly, he released her. “Tell me, in the old stories, what did the seelies do?”

  “Do? What do you mean, do?”

  “Mam, don’t you remember? You used to read me The Spotless Seelie.” Katrin smiled across the room at her mother. “And that other one, about the seelie who lost his polishing cloth. He asked everyone in the sea if they’d seen it, and it turned out the leviathan was using it to mop up her tears because she was so sad and lonely. And they became lifelong friends. Remember?”

  Prue’s tender smile illuminated her face in a way he hadn’t seen before. Suddenly, Erik was acutely conscious of standing alone in his skin, his abrasions singing an unlovely chorus. “Explain,” he growled.

  “Seelies are supposed to keep everything in the sea nice and clean,” said Katrin. “Like little blue gardeners, I guess, weeding and pruning and taking the rubbish away.”

  “Well, they aren’t, are they? Not under the Leaf of Nobility, at any rate.” All the small hairs rose on the back of Erik’s neck. “It’s dying,” he said slowly. “The whole Leaf is dying from underneath, that’s what they were trying to tell me.”

  “Assuming you’re in your right mind—” Prue stopped and started again, horror dawning in her face. “There are over seventy palazzos on that Leaf.”

  “How many people?”

  “Gods, hundreds.” Helplessly, she shrugged. “Maybe a couple of thousand in round figures. I don’t know. Those places need a lot of staff.”

  “What if it’s spread to other Leaves?”

  Now she blanched. Katrin came to stand beside her, and they stood, hand in hand. Prue wet her lips. “Disaster,” she whispered. “A hundred thousand people live in Caracole. Sister save us.”

  “Right.” Erik ran a hand through his hair. He’d do what he had to, he thought grimly, because this had to be the destiny for which the gods had saved his life. Even the divinities would agree the ends justified the means, as they had in the theater on Green IV. He hadn’t been shamed by his actions then, he’d been proud and grateful.

  “Let’s try someone else. What about the Queen’s Entertainment? All I need is a few minutes alone with him and he’ll get me a private audience with Sikara.” He paused. “I guarantee it.”

  “You’ll have to fight your way through the crowd in his antechamber first,” said Prue dryly. “Everyone wants to perform at Court.”

  “Brother and Sister preserve us.” Katrin made the two-handed sign of the Sibling Moons. “What are we to do?”

  Prue stared at her daughter. “The moons,” she whispered. “The moons!” Running to the window, she threw it open and lunged forward. Automatically, Erik reached out a long arm and grabbed a fistful of the back of her gown, acutely conscious of the rounded rise of her sweet bottom.

  As suddenly as she’d flung herself forward, Prue retreated and whirled around, her small hand clamped onto his forearm. “The Open Cabal! That’s it!” She was practically jigging with excitement.

  Nonplussed, Erik glanced at Katrin, but Prue reached up and wrenched his jaw around, capturing his undivided attention. “The day after Sibling Full Moons, the Queen’s Cabal sits in open session. Any citizen may speak before them. See?”

  The sense of relief was so heady he had to touch her cheek. “Clever, clever Prue.” Because he couldn’t resist the triumph shining in her vivid little face, he picked her up and swung her around, a sweet night breeze dancing all about them like a giddy child. He was sure he heard her chuckle, a deep, delicious sound. The dimple quivered.

  On the next breath, she went rigid in his arms. In complete silence, he lowered her to her feet and stepped back.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “I’m not a citizen of Caracole.”

  “I know,” she said, “but I am.”

  “You’ll come with me?”

  Once again she studied him, her expression unreadable. “Show me a seelie and I’ll vouch for you.”

  “Done. As soon as it’s light tomorrow.” Erik held out his hand and after a short, stinging pause, Prue placed hers in it. But when he drew it to his lips, she wrenched herself free.

  “No,” she grated. “Don’t.”

  Crockery clinked as Katrin hefted the tray. “Would you hold the door for me, please, Erik?”

  “Of course.”

  As he strode into the office toward the outer door, their voices dropped to a low feminine murmur behind him.

  The farewells made, Katrin walked past him into the passageway. Then she gestured with her chin. “Out here. And shut the door.”

  Erik did as she asked, bracing himself.

  “Rose likes you,” she said abruptly.

  “Good.” Erik raised a brow. “And you?”

  “I saw Mam’s face just then.” She was a little pink, still young enough to be uncomfortable with the rudeness of plain speaking. But she wasn’t her mother’s daughter for nothing. She stiffened her spine. “What have you done to her?”

  Godsdammit, he couldn’t prevent the betraying flush either.

  Immediately, Katrin went bright scarlet. “Actually, I’d rather not know.” Her nose wrinkled. “Gods!”

  Stepping forward, she shoved the edge of the tray into his stomach, not gently. “Rose says you’re strong enough to hold your own. Mam’s awfully bossy, you know.”

  He had to smile. “So I’ve discovered.”

  “Yes, but it’s all on the surface.” The girl’s intensity was palpable. “Underneath, she’s . . .” The blue eyes filled with tears. She dragged in a hasty breath and took the plunge. “Do you love her?”

  The spiky feeling in his guts had told him that one was coming. “What? Katrin, how could I possibly know that so soon?” He thought he managed it creditably enough, but in the back of his mind, he heard the Lady’s huge dark laughter.

  “Keep your voice down!” She glanced at the door. “That’s how it was with me and Arkady. One look and—boom!”

  “Arkady? Who’s—?”

  “Never mind,” said Katrin fiercely. “I have to go. Don’t hurt her, that’s all. Please don’t hurt her.”

  “I’ll do my best not to, I swear.” But he was speaking to the girl’s back as she hurried toward the stairs.

  When he went inside, Prue was standing in the middle of the office, her arms folded. “What was all that about?”

  “You. How old were you when she was born?”

  “Eighteen. And you have no right to discuss me with my daughter.” Turning, she walked toward the bedchamber, hips swaying en ticingly beneath the gown. Was she doing it on purpose? “Be here early tomorrow. You have a seelie to show me.”

  Erik glanced out the window at the moons high in the sky. “That’s only a few hours. Not worth going back to the boarding house.” He fiddled with the tie of the borrowed robe. “It’s been a hell of a day. I’d like to stay.”

  Prue lost a little of her high color. “I don’t want you anywhere near me,” she said through her teeth.

  “I know that. There’s a lock on the door to your bedchamber, isn’t there?” When she gave a curt nod, he said, “Use it.”

  Her chin went up. “Why should I?”

  “So we can go seelie hunting at dawn?” He let out a gusty breath. “Prue, I’m so bloody tired, I’ll sleep on the stairs if I have to, but I’d prefer the couch.”

  Twice now he’d compelled Prue without intending it—twice. He felt hollow inside, scraped raw by an appalling realization. Once he might pass off as an inexplicable lapse, bad luck, a moment of madness, but not twice. Something about Prue simply pulled the Voice out of him. It flowed forth, borne on the tide of his desire. The Horned Lord knew what he might command her to do the next time he kissed her, when he finally got her beneath him.

  The fact remained he could no long
er trust the discipline that had served him all his adult life. Shit, the Dark Lady had him exquisitely trapped. With Prue, he’d gone way beyond anything as pale as like or respect, into a realm of ironclad purpose and possessiveness. By all the gods, he was going to have her! But as himself, and himself alone. Walking a tightrope made of razor wire would be simple in comparison, but otherwise, he’d never know if she truly consented.

  In the process he’d do his best to heal the wounds he’d inflicted. Erik met a murderous glare that informed him in no uncertain terms how much ground he’d lost and how badly he’d hurt her. His gutsy Prue.

  He watched her watching his grip on the open front of the robe.

  “I’ve already said what I had to about . . . what happened. I’m not going to make it worse.” He steadied himself. “I know I’m a bastard, but I swear it wasn’t what it seemed. I swear. I don’t expect you to forgive me. Just don’t . . . shut me out of your life. Please? Give me a chance?”

  Prue shook her head. She walked straight into her bedchamber and closed the door firmly behind her.

  Erik pressed his fingertips to the wood, then his forehead. “Divine retribution, that’s what you are,” he said. “The challenge I still can’t resist. Gods, I’m a fucking fool!” But he didn’t speak above a whisper.

  Wearily, he kicked off his boots and curled up on the couch, trying in vain to accommodate his length. After an hour of tossing and turning and cursing, he rearranged himself on the floor, a couple of cushions under his head. Just before the dark tide of sleep washed over him, he reached out for the jade shawl. Bunching it in his fist, he held it to his nose and inhaled. Reminiscent of the warmth of her body, the fresh smell of the soap she used. Gods, that was better!

  He slept.

  She must be mad.

  “Your shoes, Prue,” said Erik patiently, setting aside the towels. “Take them off.”

  They sat side by side at the top of The Garden’s water stairs, alone in the early morning hush. Behind them, flowers tilted their pretty heads to the rising sun, emitting drifts of perfume, sweet or spicy, according to species. Before them, the water flashed and sparkled, so brilliant in the new light that it hurt the eyes. In the pavilions, the human occupants of The Garden slept the sleep of the well satisfied.

  Erik bent and slipped off one of Prue’s slippers. He rubbed her foot in his big warm hands, and it felt so good, she let him continue for a few moments before she came to her senses and jerked away. Her heart was beating its way up into her throat, choking her. How, in the Sister’s name, had sensible Prue ended up here—going seelie hunting with a singer? It was insane.

  “Can you swim?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Well, I’m competent, I suppose.”

  His lips twitched. “I expect no less of you, Mistress McGuire.” He slid an arm around her waist, hugging her into his body.

  Prue shivered, so preoccupied with what was to come she absorbed his warmth without thinking. “It’s going to be chilly in there.”

  “I know, but we need to do this now, before anyone’s up to ask questions.” He turned his head to gaze into her eyes, and she got lost for a minute in his serious smile. “Ready?” The stubble on his firm jaw glinted red gold in the sun.

  All he wore were his trews, muscles sliding fluidly under the smooth planes of his upper body. And the strange talisman around his neck on a golden chain. The bruises were flowering nicely. Why she should find the cup of his navel, surrounded by hard muscle and a swirl of silky hair, so irresistible, she had no idea. It was infuriating, and more than a little unnerving. Perhaps it was because she’d woken in the night and tiptoed to the door of the sitting room, drawn by the low rumble of his even breath. The light of the full moons pouring in through the window spotlit his massive form as if he were on a stage. He’d been stretched out on the floor, the contours of his long body like the rough undulations of a mountain range. One hand had been splayed over the jade shawl lying next to him, every fingertip in contact with the fabric.

  It took her back to Katrin’s baby days and the blanket she’d adored.

  Ah, now she was getting maudlin!

  Rising, she left him, marching down the steps to where the water splashed and gurgled. “Let’s do it then.”

  15

  “That’s my Prue.” Her spine prickled with the heat of his grin.

  Before she could retort, he’d launched himself past her into the water in a long, flat dive. Surfacing with a strangled yell, he pushed the hair out of his eyes and stroked back to the stairs, his face alight with excitement, the strength of his features only emphasized by his water-darkened hair. He still looked brutally tired. Prue’s heart lurched. Not only maudlin, but a fool in the bargain.

  She didn’t want to think anymore. She was as ready as she’d ever be—wearing her oldest nightgown because he’d warned her it might be messy under there, her hair braided and tied back out of the way. Sister save me, I’ve lost my mind. Prue sucked in a breath and leaped.

  The cold struck her like a fist in the chest, but as she trod water, watching Erik cast about under the stairs, her blood began to pump, her skin to tingle.

  He reappeared at her side with a couple of easy strokes. “It’s behind,” he said. “Just like the other one.”

  “All right,” she said breathlessly, sculling around the base of the stairs, acutely aware of eyes as blue as the water, watching her every move.

  At last he said, “You’re a bit more than competent, Prue.” Something warm bloomed in her chest.

  Beneath the stairs, water lapped at the tough outer skin of the Pleasure Leaf. Wonderingly, Prue touched it, solid as a building. She couldn’t make a mark on it, not with all her strength.

  Erik slid his arms around her from behind, giving her the shelter and support of his body. She wasn’t fool enough to reject it. Their legs brushed under the water, her nightgown billowing. He inhaled deeply, expanding his chest “There’s nothing wrong here, thank the Lord and Lady. No stink, no rot.”

  “The seelies?” She peered around.

  “Through there.” He pointed to an opening about ten feet in diameter in the Leaf. “With any luck.”

  Prue’s mouth fell open. “You mean we—? Gods!”

  “If it’s like the Leaf of Nobility, that passage leads down to all kinds of hollow chambers, inside the Leaf itself. I’ll go through and check first. Then I’ll come back for you.”

  “But—”

  “Shush,” he said sternly. “I can hold my breath much longer than you can. You wait here, understood?”

  Prue clutched his shoulders, the density of bone and muscle chilled and hard under her fingers. He was so big and strong, so vital, he seemed indestructible. But he wasn’t, no man was. “You’ll be careful?”

  “Of course.” He gave her a crooked grin. “Especially seeing you still care.” With both hands he grasped her head, pulled her forward and kissed her deep and hard, his lips cool, but his tongue hot and deft. She was still gasping with outrage when he released her, jackknifed into the water and disappeared down the tunnel. Her final view of him was the flex of powerful buttocks and the pale flutter of the soles of his feet, kicking.

  As the seconds ticked past, the cold rose out of the depths, climbing up her legs, caressing her belly, her breasts with slow, deadening fingers. Prue clung to the walls of the Leaf, her nightgown tangling around her legs like a shroud. First, she counted the seconds in her head, then out loud, her hoarse whisper no more than a thread among the lapping of the wavelets.

  She reached a hundred three times before she broke. Merciful Sister, he had to be dead, trapped in some small, horrible space, those beautiful eyes gone wide and dull, his lax limbs bumping against the walls of the tunnel as the current rolled—

  He burst out of the dark opening like the Technomage starship barreling toward the heavens on a plume of flame. Then he had the nerve to laugh out loud, a sound of sheer joy that echoed around the shadowed space.


  Prue thumped him hard on the chest with her fist. “I thought you’d drowned!”

  “Don’t be silly.” Erik dropped a kiss on her nose, then drew her close before she could gather her wits sufficiently to hit him. “This tunnel’s quite short. Hold on to me and you’ll be fine.”

  Prue searched his face, the moving shadows flickering over his features. She could do this, of course she could. He’d keep her safe. “Give me a minute.”

  Closing her eyes, she breathed deep, filling her lungs, calming her racing heart. Gradually, she became aware of Erik’s hands soothing up and down her spine in a hypnotic rhythm, his muscled chest, pressed against the softness of her breasts, vibrating with a deep, wordless croon. She suspected this was how he might communicate with nervous horses and small children, but if truth be told, she didn’t care, the comfort was too great.

  With an effort, she raised her head. “Ready.”

  “On a count of three then. Hang on tight, and let me do the work. It’s not far, Prue, I promise, but you mustn’t panic.”

  “I don’t panic.” She glared.

  “I knew that.” Another smile, a brief kiss pressed to her lips. “Here we go. One . . . two . . . three!” His arms banded around her.

  Together, they sank through the shadowed water and entered the tunnel. The light vanished, and Prue clenched her teeth so hard her jaw ached. In the darkness, Erik was her only reference point, and she burrowed into his warmth and strength, feeling the flex and release of his mighty muscles, his legs moving against hers as she added her kicks to his. She had the sense of an immense weight pressing down on her, her body brushing against a smooth, unyielding surface.

  Just as her lungs were beginning to labor, they broke through into open space.

  Whooping for breath, she clung to Erik’s shoulders. His palm cupped the back of her skull. “All right?”

  When she nodded, he loosened the arm he had around her waist. “Look, Prue,” he whispered, awe coloring his voice. “Look!”

  Secure in his hold, she leaned back, staring. Her jaw sagged. The world was made of a shifting twilight, illuminated by flashes of the most shockingly vivid yellows, blues and greens, as if the sea gods had decided to manifest their essence as captive light. The chamber was no more than thirty feet across, roughly oval, its sides curving in a pattern that was too organic to be completely regular. Every now and then, there were other dark openings, ledges and indentations.