Nora Roberts's Circle Trilogy

by Nora Roberts

  “The first didn’t count.” Niall sat up, rubbed his sore head. “But I’ll give you the two.”

  When he grinned at her, Blair knew she’d won.

  “Larkin, come take this pole,” Niall called out. “I’ll fight you for her, for this one’s a woman for certain.”

  Blair held out a hand. “He’d beat you, too. I helped train him.”

  “Then you’ll teach me. And them?” He jerked his chin toward Hoyt and Glenna. “Can they fight like you?”

  “I’m the best, but they’re pretty damn good.”

  She turned to the group of men, waited while money finished changing hands. Tynan, she noted, was one of the few besides Larkin that collected any.

  “Anyone else need a demonstration?”

  “Wouldn’t mind one from the redhead,” someone called out, and had more laughter rolling.

  Glenna fluttered her lashes, added a coy smile. Then drew her dagger from its sheath and shot a line of fire from it.

  Men scrambled back, en masse.

  “My husband’s is bigger,” she said sweetly.

  “Aye.” Hoyt swept forward. “Perhaps one of you would like a demonstration from me instead of my lovely wife. Sword? Lance?” He turned up his palms, let the fire dance above them. “Bare hands? For I don’t stand behind these women, but I’m proud and honored to stand with them.”

  “Down boy,” Blair murmured. “Fire’s a weapon against them. Powerful weapon, as is wood, if used right. Steel will hurt them, slow them down, but it won’t kill them unless you cut off the head. They’ll just keep coming until they rip out your throat.”

  She tossed her fencing pole to Niall. “It won’t be quick and clean like this little bout,” she told them. “It will be bloody, and vicious, and cruel beyond the telling of it. Many of them, maybe most, will be stronger and faster than you. But you’ll stop them. Because if you don’t, they won’t just kill you, the soldiers who meet them in combat. They’ll kill your children, your mothers. Those they don’t kill they’ll change, they’ll turn into what they are, or enslave them for food, for sport. So you’ll stop them, because there’s no choice.”

  She paused because now there was silence, now every eye there was on her. “We’re going to show you how.”

  Chapter 14

  Blair debated between the river and the tub. The river was very likely freezing, and that would be a bitch. But she just couldn’t resign herself to having some servant haul up steaming buckets of water, to pour them into what essentially would be a bigger bucket. Then after she’d bathed, they’d have to repeat the whole deal in reverse.

  It was just too weird.

  Still, after several hours working with a bunch of men, she needed soap and water.

  Was that too much to ask?

  “You did very well.” Moira fell into step beside her. “I know this must be frustrating for you, like starting over. And with men who feel, in some ways, they already know as much—if not more—than you. But you did very well. You’ve made a fine start.”

  “Most of those guys are in good to excellent shape, and that’s a plus. But the bulk of them still think it’s a game, for the most part. Just don’t believe. That’s a big strike in the minus column.”

  “Because they haven’t seen. They know of my mother, but many still believe—need to believe—it was some sort of wild dog. It might be if I hadn’t seen myself what killed her, I could refuse to believe it.”

  “It’s easier to refuse. Refusing is one of the reasons Jeremy’s dead now.”

  “Aye. That’s why I think people need to see, need to believe. We need to hunt down the ones that killed the queen, the ones that have killed others since that night. We need to bring at least one of them back here.”

  “You want to take one alive?”

  “I do.” Moira remembered how Cian had once pulled a vampire into the training room, then stood back so the rest of them would have to fight it. And understand it. “It will make a point.”

  “Not impossible to refuse what’s in front of your face, but harder.” Blair thought it through quickly. “Okay. I’ll go out tonight.”

  “Not alone. Don’t, don’t,” Moira said wearily when Blair started to argue. “You’re used to hunting alone, capable of hunting alone. But you don’t know the land here. They will by now. I’ll go with you.”

  “You’ve got a point, and a strong one. But no, you’re not the one for this hunt. I’m not saying you’re not capable either. But you’re not the best when it comes to close-in fighting. It’ll have to be Larkin, and I’ll need Cian.”

  In a gesture of annoyance, Moira tugged a blossom from a bush. “Now you have the strong point. I feel I’ve done nothing but matters of state since I’ve come home.”

  “You’ve got my sympathy. But I think that kind of thing has to be important, too. Statesmen—women—people—they raise armies. You’ve already taken steps to move people out of what’s going to be a war zone. That’s saving lives, Moira.”

  “I know it. I do. But…”

  “Who’s going to stir up the general population, fire them up into putting their lives on the line? We’ll train them, Moira. But you’ve got to get them to us.”

  “You’re right, I know.”

  “I’ll get you a vampire—two if I can manage it. You get me people I can teach to kill one. But right now, I’ve got to wash up. A vamp could smell me a half a mile away.”

  “I’ll have a bath readied for you, in your chambers.”

  “I was thinking I’d just use the river.”

  “Are you mad?” Finally, Moira’s face relaxed into a smile. “The river’s freezing this time of year.”

  It was never comfortable for Moira to speak with Cian. Not just because of what he was, as she’d reconciled herself to that. She thought of it, when she thought of him, as a condition; a kind of disease.

  At their first meeting he had saved her life, and since had proven himself again and again.

  His kind had murdered her mother, and yet he had fought beside her, had risked his life—or more accurately his existence—in doing so.

  No, she couldn’t hold what he was against him.

  Still there was something inside her, something she couldn’t quite see clearly, or study, or understand. Whatever it was made her uneasy, even nervy around him.

  He knew it, or sensed it, she was sure. For he was so much cooler to her than the others. It was so rare that he would spare her a smile, or an easy word.

  After the attack on their way to Geall, he’d swooped her up off the ground. His arms were the arms of a man. Flesh and blood, strong and real.

  “Hold on,” he’d said. And that was all.

  She’d ridden with him to the castle, and his body had been that of a man. Lean and hard. And her heart had been raging for so many reasons, she’d been afraid to touch him.

  What had he said to her then, in that sharp, impatient voice of his?

  Oh yes: Get a grip on me before you fall on your ass again. I haven’t bitten you yet, have I?

  It had made her embarrassed and ashamed, and grateful he couldn’t see the color flame into her cheeks.

  Likely he’d have had something cutting to say about her virginal blushes as well.

  Now she had to go to him, to ask him for help. It wasn’t something she would pass off to Blair, or Larkin, certainly not to a servant. It was her duty to face him, to speak the words, ask the boon.

  She would ask him to leave the castle, the comfort and safety of it, and go out into a strange land to hunt one of his own.

  And he would do it, she knew, already she knew he would do it. Not for her—the request of a princess, the favor of a friend. He would do it for the others. For the whole of it.

  She went alone. The women who attended her wouldn’t approve, of course, and would consider the idea of their princess alone in a man’s bedchamber unseemly, even shocking.

  Such matters were no longer an issue for Moira. What would her ladies think if th
ey knew she’d once fed him blood when he was wounded?

  She imagined they would shriek and hide their faces—those who didn’t swoon away. But they would have to look straight on at such things very soon. Or face much worse.

  Her shoulders went tight as she stepped to the door of his chamber. But she knocked briskly, then stood to wait.

  When he opened the door, the lights from the corridor washed over his face, and plunged the rest into shadow. She saw the faintest flicker of surprise come and go in his eyes as he studied her.

  “Well, look at you. I barely recognized you. Your Highness.”

  It reminded her she was wearing a dress, and the gold mitre of her office. And remembering, she felt foolishly exposed.

  “There were matters of state to attend to. I’m expected to attire myself appropriately.”

  “And fetchingly, too.” He leaned lazily on the door. “Is my presence required?”

  “Yes. No.” Why did he forever make her clumsy? “May I come in? I would speak with you.”

  “By all means.”

  She had to brush against him to step inside. The room was like midnight, she thought. Not a single candle lit, nor the fire, and the drapes were pulled tight at the windows.

  “The sun’s gone down.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Would you mind if we had some light?” She picked up the tinderbox, fumbling a bit. “I can’t see so well as you in the dark.” The quick flare of light did quite a bit to calm her jumping stomach. “There’s a chill,” she continued, lighting more candles. “Should I light the fire for you?”

  “Suit yourself.”

  He said nothing while she knelt in front of the hearth, set the turf. But she knew he watched her, and his watching made her hands feel cold and stiff.

  “Are you comfortable here?” she began. “The room isn’t so large or grand as you’re used to.”

  “And separate enough from the general population so they can be comfortable.”

  Stunned, she turned, kneeling still while the turf caught flame at her back. She didn’t flush. Instead her cheeks went very pale. “Oh, but no, I never meant…”

  “It’s no matter.” He picked up a glass he’d obviously poured before she’d come in. And now he drank deliberately of the blood with his eyes on hers. “I imagine your people would be put off by some of my daily habits.”

  Distress hitched into her voice. “It was never a concern. The room, it faces north. I thought…I only thought there would be less direct sun, and you’d be more comfortable. I would never insult a guest—a friend. I wouldn’t insult someone who welcomed me into their home when they have come to mine.”

  She got quickly to her feet. “I can have your things moved, right away. I—”

  He held up a hand. “There’s no need. And I apologize for assuming.” It was rare for him to feel the discomfort of guilt, but he felt it now. “It’s a considerate choice. I shouldn’t have expected less.”

  “Why are we…I don’t understand why we seem to be so often at odds.”

  “Don’t you?” he murmured. “Well, that’s likely for the best. So, to what do I owe the honor of your presence?”

  “You make fun of me,” she said quietly. “You’re so hard when you speak to me.”

  She thought he sighed, just a little. “I’m in a mood. I don’t rest well in unfamiliar places.”

  “I’m sorry. And I’m here to impose again. I’ve asked Blair to hunt the vampires now in Geall, to bring at least one of them back here. Alive.”

  “Contradiction in terms.”

  “I don’t know how else to express it,” she snapped. “My people will fight because it’s asked of them. But I can’t ask them to believe—can’t make them believe—what seems impossible. So they need to be shown.”

  It would be a good queen, he thought, who didn’t expect to be followed blindly. And see how she stood there now, he noted. So still, so serious, when he knew a war raged inside of her.

  “You want me to go with her.”

  “I do—she does. I do. God, I am forever stumbling with you. She asked that you and Larkin go with her. She doesn’t want me. She feels, and so do I, that I’m of more use gathering the forces, helping lay the traps she devised.”

  “Ruling.”

  “I don’t rule yet.”

  “Your choice.”

  “Aye. For now. I’d be grateful if you would go with her and Larkin, if you can find a way to bring back a prisoner.”

  “I’d rather be doing than not. But there’s the matter of knowing where to look.”

  “I have a map. I’ve already spoken with my uncle, and know where the attacks—the known attacks—took place. Larkin knows the land of Geall. You can have no better guide. And you know you can have no better companion, in leisure or in battle.”

  “I’ve no problem with the boy, or with a hunt.”

  “Then as soon as you’re ready, if you’d come to the outer courtyard. I can have someone show you the way.”

  “I remember the way.”

  “Well. I’ll go see to your mounts and provisions.” She went to the door, but he was there before her—without seeming to have moved at all. She looked up into his face. “Thank you,” she said and slipped quickly out.

  Those eyes, he thought as he shut the door behind her. Those long gray eyes could kill a man.

  It was lucky he was already dead.

  But he could do nothing about the scent she’d left behind her, the scent of woodland glades and cool spring water. Not a bloody thing he could do about that.

  “We’ll be watching.” Glenna laid a hand on Blair’s leg when Blair mounted her horse. “If you get into trouble we’ll know. We’ll do what we can to help.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got thirteen years of this under my belt.”

  Not in Geall, Glenna thought, but she stepped back. “Good hunting.”

  They rode through the gates, and turned south.

  It was a good night for it, Blair thought. Clear and cool. It would be easier to track them by night when they were active than by day when they would have gone to nest somewhere. In any case, she wouldn’t have Cian, which she considered an advantage, if they hunted by day.

  She rode between the two men at an easy trot. “I didn’t want to ask Moira,” she began. “But her mother was the first attack reported.”

  “Aye, the queen was the first death we know of.”

  “And there were no other attacks that night? No one taken?”

  “No.” Larkin shook his head. “Again that we know of.”

  “Target-specific then,” Blair mused. “They came for Moira’s mother—we assume. We don’t know how they got in.”

  “I’ve thought of it,” Larkin admitted. “Before the queen’s death, there would have been no reason to stop someone from coming in. A wagon of supplies, perhaps, or any reasonable bit of business. They would have been passed through.”

  “Plays.” Blair nodded after a moment. “Come in shortly after sundown. Stay in a bolt hole until everyone settles in for the night. Lure the queen outside, kill her.” She glanced at Larkin. “We don’t have more specifics?”

  “Moira won’t speak of it, really. I’m not sure she remembers the details of it.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t matter—for our purposes. So they kill the queen, then they stay. Maybe they can’t get back through except at specific times. But they don’t rampage,” she pointed out. “A handful of deaths in all these weeks. That’s pretty low profile for the breed.”

  “There will have been more,” Cian commented. “Travelers, whores, those not as quickly missed as others. But they’ve been careful, and avoided what we’re doing now. The hunt. I don’t think they’re only hiding from us.”

  “Who then?” Larkin glanced over and saw Blair was studying Cian thoughtfully.

  “He means Lilith. You think they’re trying to stay off her radar? Why?”

  “Because it could be you’re only half right in your theory
. Target-specific, yes,” Cian agreed. “But I doubt the target was the queen. It’s Moira who was chosen as a link in the first circle.”

  “Moira.” There was alarm in Larkin’s voice as he swiveled in the saddle to look back at the castle growing smaller with distance. “If they tried to kill her once—”

  “They’ve tried to kill all of us, more than once,” Cian pointed out. “Without success. She’s as safe as she can be, where she is.”

  Blair outlined it in her mind. “You’re thinking Lilith tried an end-run. Take one of us out before she was, essentially, one of us.”

  “It’s a possibility, a strong one. Why waste the time and what must have been some effort to send a couple of assassins here? If you’re going to buy in to the whole destiny business,” Cian went on, “it’s Moira and not Moira’s mother who was the threat.”

  “They screwed up,” Blair mused. “Took out the wrong target. So it may not be a matter of them not being able to get back, but not wanting to.”

  “Lilith isn’t particularly tolerant of mistakes. Having a choice of being tortured and ended by her, or going to ground, snacking on the locals here, which would you do?”

  “Door number two,” Blair said. “And if you buy in to the whole destiny business, her first mistake was in turning you all those years ago. You’re a more formidable enemy as a vampire than you might be as a man. No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  “Then you get Hoyt fired up, and start the whole Morrigan’s Cross thing.”

  Thoughtfully, Blair fingered the two crosses she wore around her neck. “You’ve got Glenna connected to Hoyt—maybe, if you want the romantic—destined to find and love each other. And by doing so, exponentially increasing each other’s power. You’ve got Larkin’s connection to Moira, and due to it, his coming with her through the Dance and into Ireland.”

  “So makes a nice, tidy circle,” Cian concluded. “Convoluted, but that’s gods for you.”

  “She was meant to die. The queen.” Larkin took a steadying breath. “Meant to die in Moira’s place. If Moira comes to this herself, it will hurt her immeasurably.”