“I’m starving.” Her stomach growled its empty state.
“Later. First, healing.” Therron caught Meg’s attention, and Rori felt rather than saw him tilt his head toward the bedrooms.
The next thing she knew, Tug lifted her into his arms. Indignant to be coddled like a child, Rori started to protest, but the giant rolled her against his heavy chest, silencing her objections.
“Let us help, Aurora.”
Tug’s soft voice held a note of concern and she relaxed into him. Who cared if the entire court saw her being treated like a baby. It wasn’t as if her reputation were at stake or anything.
“I’m actually surprised she’s not fighting you, Tug.”
“Shut it, Meg.” Rori tried for anger, but they were right—there was no need to fight them and she was in pain. The sooner she let them heal her, the sooner she could eat. Fighting them would only cause more injuries.
Tug laid her on a bed and her body immediately went limp, as if she could sleep for a year.
“That’s more like it. Therron, Tug, could you please give us some privacy?”
The men left, but not entirely willingly. Meg’s stern glare might’ve had something to do with it.
“Take this.” Meg handed Rori a vial and she sniffed it. “It’s the burdock root mixture you made yesterday. It will help with mending your broken bones.”
Rori propped herself up on the pillows and opened the stopper. “Gah! It smells like ass. I thought you said this was for curing blood in urine.”
“I told you that in case Acelyne was listening, remember? If she knew this potion could heal broken bones, she might’ve stolen it as well. Down it goes, that’s a good girl.”
The vile liquid coated the back of her throat as it slithered to her gut. A loud gurgle came from her innards and she would’ve retched the foulness up had it not been for the emptiness of her stomach.
“That was disgusting.”
The room tilted to one side, then the other, and Rori closed her eyes against the dizziness.
“Just relax, Rori. This might sting a little.” Despite the words spoken, Meg’s gentle tone lulled Rori into a sense of complacency.
She settled into the pillows, imagining they were puffs of clouds and she a goddess with hair of silver. The woman from her illusion.
“She’s not just beautiful. She’s life,” Rori murmured.
“Who is, darling?” Meg’s soothing voice came from far away.
A pinch against her thigh, then another, followed by several more, were disturbing her peaceful gliding upon the cloud. With each, she fought off a wince and forced her mind away from what Meg was doing to her leg.
“Taryn. Her name was Taryn. She said so much, yet so little. It was terribly confusing.”
“Is she someone from the human realm?”
Rori drifted on the cloud, happy to be off her feet. Relieved to be done fighting for the moment. “I don’t think so. She said she was in her mother’s palace in Talaith. I’ve never heard of such a place, have you?”
“Hmmm, I don’t think so.” Meg sounded closer now, but distracted.
Eyes still closed, Rori tried to recall the exact conversation she’d had with the silver-haired woman in the illusion. “I suppose I could’ve imagined it all. She called Arianna her daughter. Kind of like how the queen says we’re all her children. That must’ve been what she meant. Ouch!” Rori glared at Meg, who hunched over her leg with a needle hovering close to her skin. “What the fool hell are you doing?”
Meg ignored her and tied off a stitch. “There. Now, please, Rori. Be gentle. This was a deep wound and that man’s sword was poisoned. You really should be dead, you know. The amount of blood you lost alone would’ve crippled a giant like Tug. Promise me you’ll take it easy until this wound is healed.”
Tiny black threads crisscrossed the five-inch gash Dorchmeir had given her. Angry red skin surrounded the wound. Meg spread one of her tinctures across the infected area with the precision of a surgeon. When she finished with Rori’s leg, she poked and prodded the rest of her body to be certain there were no further injuries. Aside from the mostly healed cut she’d received when she broke out of the amulet, and her broken hand, and maybe some bruised ribs, she was fine.
“Well?” Meg gave Rori her best stern glare.
“Well what?”
“Do you promise to let your wounds heal before racing after your brother?”
“Yes. I promise.” Rori held out her hand, surprised to see it bandaged. “When did you do that?” She wriggled her fingers, the only part of her hand still visible. There was no jabbing pain, nothing to indicate the bones had been broken.
“While you were dreaming of goddesses with silver hair.”
She peered out the window at the shadows creeping toward the west. They must’ve been in the room several hours. “Thank you, Meg.”
Meg rose off the little chair beside the bed and faced Rori. “I don’t pretend to know what it is you and Cian do, and honestly, I don’t want to know. It’s for the good of Faerie and that’s enough for me.” She scooted onto the bed and ran her fingertips across Rori’s brow. “Your father was a good man. I used to treat him the same as I treat you now. Whatever is happening to Faerie, I have a feeling he’s involved. Mairead, too.”
“You think my father’s alive?” Hunger, fatigue, and the potion Meg had given her churned her thoughts into spirals of anxiety and terror. If her father was still alive, where was he and why hadn’t he tried to contact them?
“I don’t want to give you false hope. They’re just glimpses I saw in Acelyne’s mind. Fragments of images.” Meg took Rori’s hands in her own and squeezed. “Wherever they are, they aren’t in Faerie, this I know for sure. But Faerie’s future depends on you finding them. You and Cian.”
A sheen of sweat covered Rori’s skin, chilling her in the warm room. An image of her father in chains somewhere dark and musty lodged itself into her mind and tears stung the backs of her eyes.
“In the forest, when she was dying, Acelyne said I was perfect. Do you know what she meant?”
“I’m sorry, lass, I do not.”
Her accelerated heart rate burned away the last vestiges of Meg’s potion and her thoughts came quickly, too quickly to process. Questions, plans, and actions all twisted together until she was too overwhelmed to focus. Yet a single thought stayed clear—the silver-haired woman said to trust Therron. That she needed his help.
Yet how he could help if her father wasn’t in Faerie, she had no idea. It was riddles and conundrums. Bloody flippin’ hell.
Rori’s stomach gave a vicious growl, surprising both women.
“Before you do anything, I think a good meal is in order.”
Pain shot from her toes to her nose when Meg slid off the bed and offered her hand to help Rori stand. Her ruined jeans hung limp as she tentatively put weight on her injured leg. Fresh waves of hellfire raced through her blood and Rori bit back a scream.
“Why does it hurt so much more now that you’ve stitched me up?”
“I put medicine inside the wound and it’s seeping into your bloodstream. It’ll pass.”
Meg opened the door and there stood Tug and Therron, looking like two men expecting news of the worst sort. When they saw Rori, twin looks of relief swept over their faces. The care they displayed knocked her back a step. Meg steadied her, a fierce display of worry on her features.
“I’m fine, just recovering from the shock, I guess.”
“I was serious, Rori. Take it slow. Let your body heal completely.” To Therron, Meg said, “Whatever education she seeks at the Unseelie Court, make sure it isn’t physically demanding. Her body has suffered enough.”
Mortification, raw and pure, washed over Rori. She’d only meant to go to Midna’s palace to learn to control her emotions, but the way everyone was behaving, they must all assume she meant to become an álainn obedience.
She was about to rebuke Meg when Therron answered mildly, “I’ll mak
e sure the queen is aware of her limitations.” The fool man was grinning! And they called themselves her friends. Traitors, the both of them! Despite her better judgment, their amusement at her situation caused a stir in her heart.
Pretending otherwise, Rori brushed past both of them, ignoring the jolt of pain in her leg. Tug caught her and wrapped an arm around her waist for support. Thank goodness for Tug.
“Take me to the kitchen, please.” Her request came out more breathless than she would’ve liked, but Tug didn’t argue. He steered her to a large table set near Rowan’s kitchen.
Once certain she was settled, he lumbered off to find her nourishment. Therron joined her on the right, and Meg on the left. The pair wore identical smirks. She would ignore them until she’d filled her belly and could think of an appropriate response to their plotting. Right now, her mind was a flurry of confusion, and not just from what Meg had said. She had to find Cian before he left and warn him that their dad might be alive. But should she? Would that alter the course of his assignment? Would it alter hers? She chewed the inside of her lip. If their father were alive and in the human realm, Cian would drop his mission and go looking for their dad. Hell, she was half tempted to screw her healing and go with him. After she ate, she’d seek out the queen for advice. But first—food.
Rori ate whatever they placed in front of her, neither caring what the food was, nor how it tasted. After the bizarre few days she’d had, she was grateful for a hot meal and company to share it with. Although, Tug wasn’t eating much and Therron was too busy watching her to fill his own belly.
Spooning porridge into her mouth with a broken hand proved more difficult than she’d thought, but trying to feed herself with her left hand was like walking upside down while drunk. She could; it just didn’t feel right. A dribble of wet oats stuck to her chin and after several attempts to lick it off, Therron reached over with a cloth and wiped her face. The words that came to her lips never left them, but irritation simmered in her thoughts. She was more than capable of taking care of herself—hadn’t she been doing exactly that for over a decade? They really must stop babying her.
Two more bites of egg and she was stuffed. She couldn’t possibly fit another morsel in her belly even if paid to do so. With a satisfied pat to her midsection, she pushed away from the table. A pair of strong hands gripped her shoulders, helping her stand. Rori was about to let the insults loose when she realized Therron hadn’t stood, nor had Tug. Someone else had given her assistance. She turned to gaze up at her brother and immediately softened.
“Feeling better?”
The concern in Cian’s eyes melted her ire. She missed him.
“Much, thank you.”
“You missed a spot.”
“If you wipe my face, I swear I’ll dick punch you right here in front of everyone.”
The wince he tried to hide made her giggle. She bent to wipe her face on the hem of her shirt and it was then she noticed he wore a dark wool traveling cloak. Unlike her, he always wore Faerie clothes when home. Seeing him dressed for travel made her nerves tangle like a pot of noodles.
“You’re leaving so soon? I thought you’d wait to hear what the necromancer had to say.”
“I intended to, but that’s your job now.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and breathed deeply. “Please try not to get injured while I’m gone. Or kidnapped again.”
Her chuckle was muted by his close proximity. “I’ll do my best.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his chest. “Be safe. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
They’d never worked a mission together and the thought thrilled her. He was the best. She could learn much from him.
“Take the time you need to heal. For real, Rori. Meg told me of your injuries and limitations.”
“And I suppose you told Midna?”
“I did. Trust me, you’ll thank me later that I did.”
Rori pulled away from Cian to read his features. “If you have any reservations about me going to Midna’s palace, now’s the time to voice them.”
Several emotions flickered across his face, only one of which caused her concern: remorse.
3
Cian took in the cuts on Rori’s face, noted the pain lingering in her eyes. He’d never doubted his sister’s abilities. Far from it. He knew from a young age that she was a bigger badass than him and he’d quietly worked hard to prove to the world otherwise. The fact that everyone thought he was the more lethal of the pair was exactly the result he’d sought, but it came at the expense of outshining his sister. Even she bought into his superiority. She could take whatever Midna would give her—that wasn’t what caused his gut to pinch.
He kept his gaze trained on her, ignoring the others in the room. Especially that blasted elf.
Her eyes were pools of trust. Love. Despite her best effort, the love she had for Cian shone clear. He could see it in the slight crinkles of worry at the corners of her eyes. Saw it in the way she tossed her hair as if challenging him, but kept her gaze just as focused on him as he was her.
“You know, I can change my mind and tell Eirlys I’ll go to the human realm and you can return to the Unseelie Court.”
Just as he knew she had to go to Midna’s, he also knew she’d lose a part of herself from the training she’d receive. To be sure, it was sentimental to mourn that loss, Cian knew.
“I’ll be fine, Rori. You know me.” But something else lingered in her blue depths. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nice deflection, brother mine. What’s so terrible about Midna’s court?”
“I have no qualms about you going to the Unseelie palace. You’re an independent woman. You can do what you like. I just don’t ever want to hear about it. Agreed?”
A furious blush stained her cheeks, but she kept a scowl firmly in place. “Like I’d tell you anyway. Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t done.”
Now it was his turn to blush, but he hoped he kept his chagrin a little less obvious. Cian bent low to whisper in Rori’s ear, “I never slept with Midna, nor anyone at her court.” A slight gasp tickled his cheek. “Because I didn’t need the education.”
Rori whirled back and slapped his arm playfully. “You’re incorrigible!”
“I know.” He cocked an eyebrow and smirked at his sister with his best, most wicked grin. “I have to go soon. Take care of yourself, will you?” He brushed hair from her forehead and tucked the strand behind her ear. “Visit Mum. Wait until you’ve healed, but go see her.”
“I will.” A slice of indecision cut across her face, then she reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Cian, there’s something you should know.” She moved closer to whisper low, “Meg thinks Dad’s alive. That he and Mairead are caught up with what’s going on.”
If not for his training, Cian might’ve staggered at his sister’s words, but instead he remained upright, aloof. “Interesting. I’ll have a chat with her before I leave. Anything else you think I should know?”
Confusion flicked across Rori’s face. She still wore her emotions too easily. Yes, Midna’s palace would be good for her. The Academy could only train their agents so much; the rest of their education would come from life. Someday Rori would be hardened and able to school her features into a mask of indifference. For her sake, he hoped soon. Being vulnerable was only an option if it garnered information.
“Did you hear what I said? She thinks our father is alive. Not in Faerie, but the human realm. Don’t you care?”
“Of course I care.” He practically dragged her against his chest to crush her in a hug. “Tell no one what Meg said. If rumors spread about Dad being alive, just think how Mum will feel. She never got over the shock of losing him.” Cian hoped that would subdue his sister.
“You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. Will you look for him?”
He kissed the top of her head, holding back his reasons for hating having to return to Edinburgh. “Absolutely. If he’s alive, I’ll find him.”
“Take your time to heal. And learn.”
If she didn’t learn to quiet her emotions, she’d never make it as a spy in the human realm. The missions Eirlys had sent Rori on so far were simple enough. He’d done all the research he could in Faerie. It was time to leave and uncover what he could in the human realm. What Cian saw coming was nothing short of gang warfare between Faerie and the humans, if his intel and Meg’s predictions proved correct.
“I’ll miss you, Scrapper.”
“Yeah, well, try not to do anything stupid before I get there. And stop calling me that.”
Cian kissed his sister’s temple and motioned for Meg to join him. He left his sister in Tug’s capable hands and followed Meg to a small alcove off the kitchen. He adjusted the heavy traveling cloak, the only article of clothing he wished he could trade for human apparel. Not that he minded wearing Faerie clothes when home. The one thing he insisted upon was that the clothes were comfortable—and he refused to wear anything but his bespoke human-made shoes. He understood Rori’s affection for jeans and T-shirts, even if he didn’t share her clothing aesthetic. Movability was key in their profession, but so was blending in—which was why Cian chose to wear Faerie kit at home. Another lesson Rori would need to learn.
Meg waited for him to speak, her features calm, her lips soft.
“Rori tells me you think our father is alive.”
“As I told her, it was a fragment stolen from Acelyne’s memory. I believe Mairead is in the human realm, and if your father is alive, he as well. Both have something to do with what’s been happening in Faerie, but beyond that, I can’t give you more. I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t mention this to anyone else.”
“You have my word.”
Cian touched the healer’s cheek with his fingertips. “Mum misses you. Take Rori to see her, please.”
Meg’s eyes filled with tears and she nodded. He knew the mention of his mother would silence her from telling anyone else about his father. Without another word, he turned from the kitchen toward Rowan’s study.
Fatal Assassin (Fatal Fae Book 2) Page 2
