“They invaded us, how’re we responsible for diplomatic ripples caused by their actions?” Caelum said.
“And they ambushed us,” Quayla added.
“With few exceptions, it was Wyldfae that attacked us, and those exceptions are dead,” Summus said. “Neither Court will accept blame for the actions of the Anseelie.”
“I witnessed Dolumii give them orders,” Ignis said.
“Your word against his,” Summus said.
“He’s dead, he doesn’t get a say,” Caelum said.
“His honor in their Court, his reputation, perhaps even his kin all against the word of one phoenix,” Summus shook his head. “They took exception to Vitae’s possession and refusal to surrender their so-called Champion blades. To make matters worse, when Vitae and I revealed the theft to them, they blamed each other and declared war.”
“Great going Vitae,” Caelum said.
“We must proceed carefully,” Summus said.
“Kiss their Glamoured asses?” Caelum asked. “No way.”
“I will speak with Vilicangelus for guidance,” Summus said.
“What about the rest of us?” Caelum asked.
“They’re likely to bring their war into the mortal world,” Summus said.
“Sure, why mess up your yard when you can crap all over your neighbor’s?” Caelum asked.
“Be vigilant, and in the meantime,” Summus fixed Caelum with his gaze. “You and Aquaylae will attend to your studies while she recovers.”
“And everyone will move their nests back here,” Vitae said.
“I gave no such instruction, Shieldheart. This Shield determined together that this way best protects your charges.”
Vitae scowled. “Obviously, that decision was flawed.”
“Yeah, being reborn here really helped you stop the assault,” Caelum said.
“Caelum,” Terrance cautioned.
“Oh, right, it didn’t. Quayla had to risk True Death to save your ass,” Caelum seethed.
“Caelum,” Ignis said.
“Starting to see a pattern here, you like sacrificing Aquas—”
“Caelum!” Ignis, Terrance and Summus snapped in unison.
Vitae stood rigid, energy nearly crackling in the air around him. White knuckled fingers strangled the hilt of the Unseelie Champion blade. His eyes darted to Summus and his lips pressed into a thin line. “Shield Caelum.”
This whole situation is already a powder keg.
Summus glanced at Ignis for support.
“Vitae, a word?” Ignis asked.
Vitae ignored him, continuing on in a lofty, self-satisfied tone. “It seems it falls to me once more to remind you that it is your turn to clean our sanctum, including my bed chamber.”
“You’re the one that got blood everywhere,” Caelum said.
“Vitae is correct regarding the rota.” Terrance eased an arm under Aquaylae. “Come, little sister, you must return to bed.”
Aquaylae’s physical state proved out Anima’s claims, but it was her shredded emotional state that knotted Ignis’s gut, squeezing heat outward until it fogged his eyes.
We must seek out our attackers with haste, punish them and then tend to healing this Shield and all who serve it.
Vitae
I stormed away from the others and into my bedroom. The door hadn’t survived. I yanked the bloody coverlet from what remained of my bed, snapping it to dislodge clinging detritus. I pushed one corner of the fabric to the wall.
A moment’s concentration grew a slender spike of essence from the top knuckle of my hand. I punched the stiletto through the coverlet and wall, moving on to repeat the process several more times.
Cut off from my unreasonable shield brethren, I allowed myself a moment to drop my guard. We were birds of prey. Showing weakness to another predator enticed violence, and my brethren were already after my throat.
Rallying around Aquaylae against me.
Several deep breaths centered me. Invasion and battle, shocks and surprises had bombarded me nonstop since Ignis’s death. I’d been forced to sojourn surrounded by incompetence and sedition. I’d had to show the insufferable Sidhe Courts strength while resisting the desire to drive one of my new swords into their disrespectful hearts.
I’d prevented a truth that shook me to my core from vibrating me apart through it all.
Mare’s still alive.
I drew both Champion blades, discarding Gherrian’s to cradle the Unseelie blade stolen from Knight Dolumii. I gripped it with both hands, my right tightening around the blade until it cut into me.
“Vitae, you are cutting yourself,” Anima said.
“Leave me be. Cease monitoring this chamber.”
The troublesome automata didn’t respond. Unlike Aquaylae, it could be trusted to obey. Our new Aqua would cease to be a problem very soon.
Mare?
Nothing.
My whispers cracked. “Mare? Can you hear me?”
Silence.
I sniffed back tears. I’d heard her voice holding the Unseelie knight’s blade, the very blade that had torn her soul from her flesh. I had to free her.
Aquaylae had used up the essence transferred from Mare’s nest to the fountain, but there was another way to bring her back.
I rounded the bed to the far corner, snatching the antique table and hurdling it out of my way. I knelt, laying the sword on the ground to wrench open a secret compartment with bloody fingers.
Fingers shaking with anticipation, I drew out an antique key.
I slipped only my face through the coverlet’s folds, ensuring none of the others in sight or waiting for the elevator. Hasty steps brought me to Mare’s bedroom door.
The key shook violently enough that inserting it into the lock took several tries. The click of the latch releasing stole my breath. I pushed the door open, hesitant despite Mare’s centuries of absence. I stepped into a veritably separate world—a shrine.
No one but I had entered Mare’s bedroom in the many years since her death, and even I hadn’t dared to brave her chamber often. A preternatural chill hung in the air, opposite the warmth of our former Aqua.
A rough whisper escaped me. “Forgive me this intrusion, milady.”
“Vitae?” Anima asked.
“I told you to leave me be!”
No one except me had been permitted inside Mare’s room since her death. Even though the others refused to live within the sanctum, I’d conscripted the putti to rebuild other sections of our headquarters, carving out a small bedroom that eventually became Aquaylae’s chambers.
The others witnessed the construction, but never questioned me. They never attempted entry. They never requested the key.
An ancient fan hung from the ceiling. Huge leaf-shaped blades spun languidly propelled by a tiny whirlwind gifted Mare by Caelum’s predecessor. Handwoven rugs blended the greys and browns of a storm-tossed ocean, covering stained hardwoods. Royal blues befitting Mare’s character curtained the windows and the four-post bed.
I parted the gossamer, baby blue lace separating her bed from the room. Mare’s egg rested in the beds center, nestled between pillows of sapphire or ice blue.
A soft glow fainter than a will-of-the-wisp lit the egg’s interior. Without a heartbeat to match, the glow of Mare’s essence didn’t brighten and fade like other eggs.
With care not to wrinkle Mare’s quilts, I lifted her egg from its nest with exaggerated care. I cradled her egg to my chest, noticing blood from my cut hand marring the gorgeous blue.
Fury rose.
How could I be so careless! Soiling her egg is totally unacceptable.
Tears edged from my eyes. I laid my cheek against Mare’s egg, hoping they would cleanse away my unforgivable mistake. “I’m so sorry.”
Anger drained away into the soothing cool silver and sapphire pressed to my skin.
“Mare, please hear me.”
The egg had never answered no matter how many hours I begged it. Bringing the sword hilt to
rest against Mare’s egg, I whispered once more.
“Mare, hear me.”
No response.
My essence could rejuvenate an injured phoenix. I pressed sword and egg tight to my chest and transmogrified until I could press the two of them into the red and gold plasma of my body.
I called Mare to me, called with my mind and my voice and my heart. I pushed essence into the sword, fully aware the blade might take a liking to me and rip my soul from my body as it had Mare’s.
At least we’d be together.
I tried time and again, fed the blade essence over and over, begging again and again.
The blade drank down my blood, but gave nothing in return.
I wanted to hurl the blade from my sight, to break it once and for all. Doing so could conceivably destroy any chance to liberate Mare from her prison. I wouldn’t risk her nor let her go.
There’s a way to free her. I will find it. I will free her no matter the cost.
Caelum
Caelum entered the Goblin Market and handed each of the billy goat guards a case and three bars of Bit-O-Honey candy.
They took turns eyeing the gateway behind him.
“She’s not here,” Caelum said.
The guards snorted.
Caelum dragged the foldable cart filled with milk and candy bars to one side. He unfolded his ether silk handkerchief until it stretched to a shimmering constantly changing rainbow of colors the size of a throw rug. Above him colorful silks wrapped an ancient tree, serving as gangways and tents, boundaries and shopping stalls. Faeries of all kinds stood stock still where they’d been perusing shops on the ground and each of the five levels rising upon silk like his carpet.
He held up his hands. “I didn’t bring her along. I’m not here to cause a fuss.”
Faeries returned to their shopping.
Caelum sighed and sat on his rug. A few whistled notes tamed the ether silk like one might mesmerize a cobra. He rose slowly, taking extra care to offer right of way to every faerie around him if it was their due or not.
It took far longer than normal to reach Oshyn’s booth—long enough that his temper frayed by time he reached the first-tier shop.
You’d think a water phoenix would be calm and patient, not ruin my years of work building a rapport in the Market.
A half-sized elf garbed in silver and white silks eyed Caelum with wary unease. Behind Oshyn, high-pitched mutters coursed through a line of knee-high brownies. The miniature Cousin Its resembled a gaggle of decapitated old mob heads, arranged by hair color in ascending heights.
“I greet you, Oshyn, and hope I find you well and your endeavors profitable.”
“Well enough Shield Caelum, though it is my burden to inform you the Market’s current sovereign has decreed that you must pay thrice and thrice again in all the Market, even my humble shop.”
“Understood.” Caelum drew a crate of milk and several boxes of candy from the cart. “And I will pay thrice and thrice to honor your sovereign and the good work of your gentle brownie helpers.”
A visible shiver ran down the hairy ranks.
“I need a one-time cleanup performed.” Caelum added a half case of Bit-O-Honey. “Rush job.”
Oshyn raised his nose, pointedly not looking at the barter collecting in Caelum’s hand. “I see. We are very busy. Booked long into autumn, you know. Far too busy to clean up after anyone so dishonorable as Shield Aquaylae.”
Little disgruntled squeaks escaped the array of tiny living mops, rippling the hairs along their curl-toed boots.
Is that so, my little friend?
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Caelum tossed the candy back into the box and replaced his milk. “The job didn’t have anything to do with Quayla, but if you’re busy I understand. I’ll see you later, Oshyn.”
His whistle turned the carpet around the other way.
“A moment, brave shield, we might fit you in...for a small surcharge,” Oshyn said.
The Cousin It army sighed its relief.
“That’s okay. There are plenty of modern cleaning companies who won’t have to upset their appointment schedule.”
“Wait!” Oshyn bounced from silk to branch off a goblin merchant’s feathered hat and onto silks in front of Caelum’s carpet. “It was a jest, just a summer frolic. We have plenty of time to help Shield Caelum.”
Caelum frowned. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
“No, no, nothing of the sort. Perhaps I confused the good shield with my poor humor, a discount, yes, a discount, only one thrice.”
The army stiffened.
“That wouldn’t be fair to your brownies,” Caelum rubbed his chin in dutiful manner. “Far be it from me to insult your sovereign’s hard workers or her command. Perhaps only one thrice candy?”
Oshyn’s eyes widened. He squeaked. “One thrice candy?”
Caelum held up a hand. “You’re right. I should stick with mortals. They’ve got all those new chemicals and machines. Probably do a much better job.”
Oshyn stomped a foot, making the silk streamer beneath him ripple. “I insist you let us handle this job, full milk and one thrice candy. Declining this offer would dishonor the whole line of my ancestors.”
“The whole line?” Caelum smirked. “Nobody would be like, meh? Not even your sovereign?”
“The whole line, Shield Caelum.”
“Okay,” Caelum smiled. “If you insist, the job’s yours.”
Oshyn bobbed his head once in the affirmative. “Good, what is this rush job?”
“Shield Sanctum, standard full cleaning...oh, and a bit of blood.”
Oshyn stuttered. “Sh-shield S-sanctum?”
“Which blood?” a brownie asked.
“No witches, just Sir Dolumii’s, Sir Gherrian’s, our Vitae’s, a bit of wyvern and griffon blood mixed in... oh, Quayla might’ve bled here and there too.”
A wave of groans rippled hair along the line of brownies.
The rest of his trades went just as smoothly, slowly dwindling the boxes of candy. He traded whispers and secrets, gems and jokes, filling the empty milk crates with all the odds and ends he needed—including a pair of replacement karambit hilts for Quayla. One whisper seemed to pertain to the shelter thefts, but the slightest inquiry saw him sent away.
Too much scrutiny on me this trip. Next time.
Caelum returned to headquarters. He called out as he stepped off the elevator. “Ani? Is Vitae back?”
“Not yet,” Anima said.
“Good.” Caelum blew an elderberry whistle.
“Caelum, there’s an Arch forming in the foyer. We’re under atta—”
“Hey, hey, easy there, my beauty. It’s just the janitors.”
Brownies whirled out of the Arch like a flood of tiny, chittering carwash brushes. Their hair whipped round and round in all directions, scouring dirt and blood out of existence.
3: Unexpected Magic
Vitae
Burning sandalwood and white sage assaulted my nose the moment I reentered headquarters. A hint of taint undercut the other smells just at the edge of my awareness. The others might not have noticed under the other aromas, but the tickle of unnaturalness pricked my skin like gooseflesh.
A little voice whispered suspicions.
I strode up the stairs, eyes tracing walls far too clean. Caelum wasn’t anywhere near as troublesome as Aquaylae, but the wild wind shield also wasn’t what anyone would call thorough.
Only his goldbricking is this thorough.
My immaculate bedroom gave certainty to my doubts. Even my fighting canes gleamed with a fresh coat of polish.
There’s only one way Caelum did all of this.
I checked Aquaylae’s room, finding it empty of both mess and the untidy water phoenix. “Anima, where’s Aquaylae?”
“The library,” Anima said.
A flash of irritation increased my pace. She needed to be resting. The only other activity she should’ve been permitted was filling her nest. Instead, on
ce more she insisted on ignoring what was best for my Shield. She insisted on pursuing her own wasteful agenda rather than accept that only judicious employment of sleep, slurry and sacrifice would fill her nest in a timely manner.
It seems I must once more remind her of her priorities.
I strode down the stairs. “Anima, where is Caelum?”
“Shield Caelum departed an hour ago.”
No amount of old-fashioned elbow grease could’ve achieved the resultant scouring. Caelum’s departure so long ago meant he’d misused his essence to speed the cleaning. With the resistance I’d encountered earlier, I needed to ensure I had evidence of Caelum’s excesses to convince the new Praefectus to enforce stronger discipline. “How is it he managed to clean up with such alacrity?”
“He hired a troupe of brownies.”
I froze mid stairwell, shock and fury vying for supremacy. My teeth ground against each other, inhibiting speech. “He invited faeries into our sanctum?”
“I assure you, Shieldheart, I monitored their every action.”
“Did Caelum?”
“No. He entrusted the task to me since, as he pointed out, I would’ve monitored them even if he were supervising.”
“While that sounds like Caelum’s brand of reasoning, you’d do well to lend following his example less weight than your operating instructions.”
“If you so say, Vitae,” Anima said.
“I do.” I completed my descent and braced myself to enter the library. A sudden thought plunged me almost physically into a bog of despair. “Anima, did the brownies enter Mare’s room?”
“No, Vitae.”
Breath and heartbeat raced. “You’re sure? Absolutely certain.”
“Yes, Vitae. They cannot have entered without me knowing.”
Dealing with Aquaylae was trying at the best of times, but more so inside the library. Before I braced myself for the coming encounter, I hurried to Mare’s door.
It remained locked.
I breathed a sigh of relief and turned toward the library.
Aquaylae and the other shields needed to reside within the sanctum. Only under constant supervision could they be rehabilitated and the Shield returned to acceptable standards. Until I managed to free Mare, having Aquaylae under restricted to headquarters meant tolerating her underfoot inside the temple of knowledge Mare and I had built.
Ruled by Tainted Blood Page 3
