by Clara Martin
“I’m here for Prince Faolain,” I said shortly. My breath came from me in great gasps, as though I’d run a hundred miles.
“I will check and see if he is available. May I tell him what this is about?”
I laughed bitterly. “He knows. Tell him that. And tell him I’m ready.”
For the first time, the fae gave a shallow bow. “As you wish,” he murmured.
Chapter 8
It took almost ten minutes for Faolain to emerge. This time, instead of the small room to the right, he gestured me up the stairs. “Come,” he said shortly.
“I’m not a dog,” I snapped, following him. A grim smile touched his lips, but he said nothing.
He led me to a grand room at the top of the stairs. It was dominated by a four-poster bed, draped in a canopy of scarlet silk. A small table sat to one side of the room, surrounded by four wooden chairs. A giant oak dresser stood next to the bed. Other than that, the room was bare. Faolain stopped and gestured me to one of the chairs. I hesitated.
“If you prefer,” he said, his eyes raking over me, “we could move this to the bed.”
“No thanks,” I snapped, pulling out a chair with a jerk. I sat, staring at Faolain with challenge in my eyes. He looked back, that same grim smile on his face.
“So spirited,” he remarked. He gracefully drew out a chair and sat. “Now. You’re ready?”
I shrugged. “I want my boyfriend alive.”
“I see.” He was laughing at me, though no sign of it showed on his face.
“You realize,” he said, voice soft, “that you came here with no guarantee of safe passage. No guarantee of safe treatment. No guarantees at all. None.”
I looked back at him stonily.
“Such devotion,” Faolain murmured. He reached over and gently touched my cheek. “Would that Charles Talbot was worthy of it.”
“I decide whether he’s worthy of it or not,” I snapped. “I want him back.”
Faolain leaned back in his chair, throwing one hand gracefully over the back. “Why don’t you text Charles Talbot’s captors and see what they want you to do next.”
“Don’t play games with me!” I stood, knocking the chair over. It fell to the ground with a thud. “You’re the prince of Northern Sun. You tell them to let him go!”
“Alas,” Faolain said softly, “my father’s regime has not been terribly stable of late.” He smirked. “Pretenders to the throne. They try to undercut him—and me—at every opportunity.”
I swallowed. “So you don’t have him,” I said, beginning to understand. I stared at the cell phone in my hand. “So if they don’t support you, why did they send me to you?” I asked angrily.
Faolain sighed. “I expect that they’re going to kill all three of us and frame you as a spy. To protect their real spy.”
I blinked. “Wait—what?”
“Surely you don’t think that humans can’t be corrupted,” he hissed silkily. He stood up, smirking. “Who is jealous enough, angry enough, at Charles Talbot and you to have you killed?”
“Jenny,” I whispered angrily. “The bitch is dead.”
He raised one finger warningly. “There is one small problem. First, someone wants all three of us dead. Second,” his eyes flashed and his nostrils flared, “what makes you think I’ll let you go if we survive?”
I stared at him, swallowing. I could feel a thick ball in the back of my throat.
“Not to worry,” Faolain reassured me. “You won’t be a servant. What I have planned for you is much ... more ... pleasurable.” His nostrils flared again, and I stumbled back, horrified.
“Shocked into silence, are we?” Faolain took a step toward me. I retreated a step. “So that’s all it takes,” he murmured. “Good to know.”
I scrambled to recover myself. “I defeated you once,” I snapped. “I can do it again.”
“My dear.” He smiled sympathetically. “I am at the seat of my power, here. Do you truly think I can be defeated by a few punches and kicks?” I felt my feet fasten to the floor. Desperate, I tried to move them. They were stuck fast.
“You’re in trooubllle,” Joe and Sheldon sang from behind me.
Faolain approached me slowly, deliberately, his eyes flicking up and down my body. “That’s better. Now,” he said reaching up and tracing my face, “let’s see what we have.” He reached for my shirt.
I leaned away, as far as I could with my feet pasted to the floor. He chuckled. “None of that, now,” he said admonishingly. “Don’t worry. You might even enjoy it.” He grasped my shirt, trying to pull me back.
I grabbed my chair and hit him.
His eyes went wide, and he staggered back before collapsing on the floor. My feet suddenly came free. I sighed in relief, straightening up and pulling my shirt down. I felt dirty.
“Dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty,” Joe and Sheldon chanted behind me.
“Shut up,” I snapped. I looked at Faolain, unconscious on the floor, and felt like crying. What was I supposed to do now? I was no closer to saving Charles, and maybe now in even worse trouble. I’d knocked out a fae prince in his own embassy. I had no idea what the law was, but I couldn’t imagine it would end well.
A throat cleared at the door. “Well now,” it said, deep and low, just like Faolain’s. “You’re in some trouble, aren’t you?”
I jumped, whirling around. The second fae from McConnell Consultants stood there, looking amused. “Eamon of Northern Sun,” he said, bowing elegantly, one hand over his heart. “I believe you all at the Northern Virginia Rescue Association know me.” His eyes flickered, still amused.
I drew myself up. “Yes. We do. Aren’t you half-human? How do you justify hunting down your own kind?”
“Is this really the time to be asking me?” Eamon asked mildly. He gestured at Faolain on the floor. “You have very little time before he wakes up.”
“What do you want?” I asked, feeling defeated.
Eamon’s eyes glistened. “What if I told you that I could not only break your bond with Prince Faolain, but return your ... boyfriend ... to you, Eileen?”
“What do I have to do?” I tried to keep the eagerness out of my voice.
“It’s quite simple, Eileen,” he said with a smile. “Bond with me.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Allow me to transfer the bond, from my prince”—he kicked lightly at Faolain’s unconscious body—“to myself. If you do, I’ll release your boyfriend. You have my word.” He raised his hand, gold power streaming from it. “I’ll swear on my magic, if I must.”
“You must,” I said, staring at him. “But how will you transfer the bond? I don’t even know how it formed! I don’t know what kind of bond it is!”
“It’s a mate bond,” Eamon said impatiently. “Surely you figured that much out.” My mouth hung open. “Now, now,” he chided. “We’re running out of time.” Faolain stirred on the floor and moaned.
“Swear,” I demanded. “On your magic.”
Eamon held up his hand, which was still glowing gold. “I swear that after the bond with Eileen O’Donnell is transferred to me, I will release her, and release Charles Talbot—” he gave me a wicked glance “—who also happens to be my brother. So mote it be.” The gold glow died.
“Now,” he said, walking toward me, “hold out your hand.” Mute, reeling from the revelations, I extended my hand. “What do you mean, Charles is your brother?” I asked faintly.
“Now, now,” he said, shaking his finger, “I never get in lovers’ quarrels.” Eamon smirked. “He won’t talk about you at all—and believe me, he was asked many, many questions.”
“It’s you,” I whispered, staring Eamon. “You’re the one trying to seize the throne.”
“Yes,” he agreed complacently. “And with time, you might even come to support me.” He extended his hand. It gl
owed blue, this time. “Take my hand,” he whispered. “This won’t hurt.” Slowly, I placed my hand in his.
A jolt ran through me. It felt like the fire back at McConnell Consultants—running through me, enveloping me. I bit my lip, determined not to scream, and tasted blood.
“Good,” Eamon said, releasing my hand, breathing heavily. “It’s done.”
I glared at him. Faolain moaned again.
“You’d best move,” Eamon said delicately. “He won’t be happy if he wakes up and finds you here. As far as he knows, you broke the bond. I,” he smirked, “his faithful servant, tried to prevent you from fleeing and failed. If I might suggest, my dear, you might show your Anna the text messages you got from an untraceable source ... it might save your job. And if I were you, I’d keep this bond with me secret.”
I swallowed, staring at me. “Charles?” I asked, voice breaking.
“Yes, yes,” he waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll see him released. Remember, I swore on my magic.” He reached out and touched my face, almost gently. I felt a sting of magic and swore. “Better go,” he murmured.
“What did you do to my face?”
He smiled. “Better go,” Eamon repeated. Faolain opened his eyes. I turned and ran.
The guard wasn’t at the door. I ran outside, and the valet stood aside. I wasn’t imaging the smile on his face as I pelted into the car and frantically started it. I roared off, making straight for the NVRA.
My phone buzzed. It was from the same unknown number. It was a picture of an open cell door, and Charles leaving. I pressed my hand to my mouth to hold back a sob.
My phone buzzed again. I checked it. It was Anna.
“Unless you tell me you’re on your way back to the office, you’re fired.”
One-handed, I texted her back. “I’m on my way.”
“Good. We just got a Sending from one of our spies. Charles was just released. No word on the rest of his team.”
Horrified, I pressed my hand to my mouth. I’d negotiated for Charles’s safety and freedom. I hadn’t said anything about the rest of the team.
Frantically, I texted back to the unknown number. “What about the others? You have to let them go!”
There was no reply.
Shaking, horrified, I drove back to base, Sheldon and Joe chortling in the back seat the whole way.
I parked the car and slowly got out. Garrett and Anna were standing at the door, arms crossed. I walked across the parking lot, feeling as though I was heading to my execution.
“Let’s go,” Anna said, looking sad. We went to the War Room.
Anna sat heavily. “Why did you leave?”
I pulled out my cell phone and unlocked it, handing it to her. “Look at the texts,” I said quietly.
Anna and Garrett read the texts silently. They looked at each other, then at me. I felt a tear wend its way down my cheek.
“I couldn’t—” I choked. “I couldn’t leave him.”
Anna sighed. “This,” she said disgustedly, “is why I wish we had fraternization rules, like the military.”
“To be fair,” Garrett said, leaning forward, “they don’t outrank each other. They’re in separate departments. There’s no violation.”
Anna groaned, leaning back. “So what happened?”
I told them about going to the embassy. “Faolain—he told me he’d let Charles go if I went with him. But I hit him with a chair. Then Eamon came in. He told me he was behind the instability in the Kingdom of Northern Sun, that he wanted the throne, and that he’d let Charles go because it didn’t fit his plans to keep him there.” I put my hand to my mouth. “I just assumed he meant the rest of the team, too.” I felt another tear trickle down my cheek. “Also,” I said, voice breaking, “Faolain told me Jenny’s a spy.”
Garrett pushed his chair back sharply. “What?” He snapped.
“He told me that Jenny was working with him.” I swallowed, feeling another tear track down my cheek.
Anna and Garrett looked at each other. “Interesting,” Anna said, voice neutral. “Well, you’ve done your duty in reporting to us. We’ll take it from here.” She leaned back and crossed her arms.
“Eileen,” she said, voice neutral, “I’m not going to fire you. Not now. But you showed serious lapses in judgment by going to the embassy alone. I am going to write you up.”
“I understand,” I replied, heart heavy. “What does that mean?”
She shrugged. “Think of it as a counseling statement. If it happens again, you will be fired.” Anna met my eyes directly.
“I understand,” I said, feeling a little better.
“Also,” she said, pointing at me, “I want you to break it off with Charles.”
“What?” I squeaked.
“I can’t order you to do this,” Anna said heavily. “But I want you to think about what just happened here. You put yourself in serious danger because of something that happened to him. He may have been targeted because of your ... relationship ... with Faolain.” She paused. “Just think about it,” she advised me kindly.
Garrett stood. “I think that’s everything,” he said, exchanging a look with Anna.
“When will Charles be back?” I asked eagerly.
Garrett and Anna exchanged another look. “Eileen, he’s not coming back, not yet,” Anna said gently. “We just heard from him. He found out his team hadn’t been released and refused to leave the boundary area. He’s going to try to go back in and save them.”
“What?” I squeaked.
Anna sighed. “They were held in a guardhouse on the boundary,” she said, voice thoughtful. “It’s not the most secure facility. If the fae were serious about keeping the team captive, they’d have taken the team to the castle keep.” She tapped her pen on the table. “He might have a chance.”
I nodded, shaken. “He might,” I echoed. I’d stopped praying after my head injury. I was too angry—at God, at everyone. I bowed my head and sent a prayer up for Charles’s safety anyway, hoping He would hear me.
“Go home,” Anna said tiredly. “Come in tomorrow, nine o’clock. We’ll have more updates then.” She waved her hand to the door. I nodded, grabbed my phone, and beat a hasty retreat.
I unlocked my car and got in, weeping freely now. It was too much. I couldn’t handle it.
“No,” a voice said from next to me. “You can’t handle it.” I jerked and looked over. Eamon sat next to me, smiling mysteriously. “Not without help,” he continued.
“What are you doing here?” I asked angrily. “I took my medicine! I shouldn’t be having hallucinations!”
“My dear,” he said, still smiling, “I’m no hallucination. Unlike Faolain, I can actually use the bond the way it’s intended. I’m speaking directly to you—to your mind.” He paused. “In actuality,” he confessed, “I’m in the middle of a very boring palace meeting, where the palace guard is being heavily ... chastised ... for allowing you to escape. All to the good. It’ll just turn them against Faolain even more.”
I gripped the steering wheel. “What do you mean?” I asked, voice breaking.
“A prince of the Kingdom of Northern Sun, defeated by a mere human? Not once, but twice?” Eamon snorted. “It hardly bears thinking about. Especially since the second time, he was taken down in his own bedroom. With a chair.”
I gave a snort of laughter.
“That’s more like it,” Eamon said with approval. “My brother is a fool.”
“Faolain? Yes, he is.”
“Faolain, too,” he said enigmatically. “But for now, my dear—go home. Sleep. Take your medicine. You’ll feel better tomorrow.” He disappeared.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter. Either my schizophrenia was getting worse, or Eamon really had just talked to me, mind-to-mind.
Chances are your schizophrenia is just getting wor
se, Joe said in my head.
Agreed, Sheldon added.
I punched the steering wheel, accidentally setting off the horn. “The fact that I’m not seeing you, just hearing you,” I growled, “is a sign that my medication is working.” The voices were silent.
I pulled out of the parking lot and turned the radio on high. I put it on the pop channel, singing aloud—defiantly, angrily—to each song.
Charles would come back. That was all that mattered. I frowned, thinking of Anna’s advice. There were so many reasons this wouldn’t work. Maybe it was better to give up. I bowed my head, feeling the tears start again.
“How could he not have told me he was Faolain’s and Eamon’s brother?” I whispered to myself, clutching the steering wheel. “How could he have done that?”
There were so many reasons this wouldn’t work. Charles’s secrets. My illness. My brain damage. Anna and Garrett’s advice. Hopelessly, I pulled out my cell phone and stared at the picture of Charles in a cell, nearly swerving into the next lane. In the photo, Charles’s face was bruised, one arm clearly broken. He lay as though dead.
“But he’s free, now,” I said fiercely. “He’s free.”
Not once they catch him freeing his teammates, Sheldon pointed out.
Whom you failed to free yourself, Joe snickered.
My phone rang. I started, then picked it up. “Hello?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from trembling.
“Eileen?”
“Who is this?” I shifted my phone to the other hand.
“Eileen, this—this is Sarah.” The voice on the other end of the line took a deep breath. “You rescued me?”
I blinked. “Sarah? Are you all right?”
She didn’t answer. “Come to the Unity Shelter,” she said, voice almost robotic. “I need to see you.”
“Sarah? Are you all right?”
“Just come!” A sob burst from her, and she hung up.
Frowning, I crossed three lanes of traffic to turn left. Car horns blared. “Oh, shut up,” I muttered. I grabbed my pistol from where I’d stashed it under the seat and slid it over my shoulder. It hung there, a comforting weight.
