Poisoned Shadow: An Urban Fantasy Supernatural Detective Mystery (The Shadow Series Book 2)

by Candice Bundy

  A fleeting thought crossed her mind: this confrontation style was not in alignment with her poisoner.

  Also, Maura had directed her to wait before speaking with House Hawthorne, as her mother wanted to manage the talks. Becka swallowed hard, realizing Maura had missed her opportunity to control the narrative. What hope did she have to implore for peace against their steely gazes?

  Alain stepped forward, meeting Becka midway between the two groups. They stood for a moment staring each other down. She didn’t understand what he was doing, but the formality inherent in his actions gave her pause.

  Becka spoke first, hoping to deescalate the situation. “Duchess Maura informed me we’d be meeting soon. Would you like to walk with me to the council chambers to discuss reparations?”

  “The opportunity for civil discussion passed when you stripped my cousin of her powers.” He reached down and pulled a scroll from his waistband, held it between his fingers for a deliberate moment, and then held it out to her. Not as an offering, but as almost as if he were striking a blow.

  Becka had a moment of hesitation, looking from his eyes to the scroll, and then back to the cutting glare within his eyes. She held his gaze as she reached out and received the scroll into her gloved hands. She took it delicately, as if it might explode in her fingers if she mishandled it.

  Alain grasped one hand in another, his chin cutting toward Hanna, who came to stand beside him.

  “Becka of House Rowan, our engagement is broken. This document comes from Duke Eldinrod; I will deliver another one to Duchess Maura at the council chambers next, but I wanted to ensure you received the message first, and from me directly.”

  Becka’s heart leapt! She’d hoped for an out to this arrangement, and the moment had finally come. But it was only due to the harm she’d dealt Hanna, who stood, arms crossed, glaring at Becka.

  “I thought the engagement was a binding agreement and couldn’t be broken?”

  His voice was hard as honed steel. “There are provisions in most contracts that allow for one or both parties to cancel the agreement.”

  She shook her head. “I’m familiar with the agreement. Which section are you referring to?”

  “House Hawthorne has issued a statement declaring you unfit and has advised other houses to follow our lead and not permit you within their territories.”

  Heat flushed Becka’s face and Hanna smiled cruelly at her reaction. An aching sadness filled Becka, and although she didn’t want to believe him, the accusation in his words hit her so hard in the solar plexus that Becka had to take a moment before she could breathe in again. She’d once considered outcast a horrible term to own. Unfit felt even worse.

  Astrid had been wrong. Hawthorne’s declaration named Becka’s power a weapon and asked the other houses to take a stand. What fae would risk contact with her? Perhaps, as Astrid had said earlier, only the desperate.

  “Unfit? How…”

  He cut her off. “You’re a danger to your own kind. Your house appears too blinded by the potential of the unique nature and raw power of your gift to realize you’re an uncultured loose cannon who will destroy everything she touches.”

  Is he right? Was House Rowan so blinded by the monetary nature of her gift to see her potentially destructive power honestly? She did her best to keep her expression neutral despite the anger, frustration, and pain bubbling beneath the surface. All eyes watched her, waiting for her reaction.

  “All right,” she replied, endeavoring to keep her voice steady. “But how does this unfit claim break our engagement contract?”

  “House Hawthorne contends that since you are unfit, you therefore cannot be the heir to House Rowan.”

  Becka pursed her lips. What impact will Hawthorne’s declaration have with Maura? The council? Other houses? How many houses could House Hawthorne turn against Becka, and by extension, House Rowan?

  Becka thought she could see the specter of reconciliation give her the finger, turn, and then saunter off. Calder had been right, waiting for Maura’s oversight had been a mistake. Although even if she had acted promptly, Becka doubted the outcome would have been much different.

  Perhaps I can still reason with him? I have to try.

  “Alain, please. Let’s not act rashly.”

  He smirked. “On the contrary, our action is well-reasoned and grounded in evidence.”

  Becka tamped down a flare of anxiety. She was determined to try harder. “It was an accident, an awful one, and I harmed your cousin. I am sorry for the damage I have caused. Please, let’s find a way to move past this, for both our houses’ sakes.”

  He rolled his eyes at her. Actually rolled them! “This is standard diplomacy, Becka. Not that I expect you to be familiar with standard fae culture.”

  Becka’s composure shattered, she raised her arm and took a step towards Alain, pointing. “I am not…” she started, but a moment later Quinn and Brent grabbed her and pulled her back. Becka shook them off, confused, forgetting what she’d been about to say.

  Alain assessed Quinn and Brent, surprise clear upon his face. “I’d heard you both were fearless, which you must be to touch this volatile creature without hesitation.”

  “I can control my gift!” Becka’s raised voice carried the length and breadth of the long hallway. “I couldn’t have known I would be tossed onto Hanna while my gift was peaked.”

  “No. You can’t control it,” Hanna replied. “Or have you forgotten the irreparable damage you’ve done to me and my house by your lack of control?”

  “I haven’t,” she replied. “And I will never let myself forget the harm I have done to you. But throughout fae history there have been magical accidents, especially with potent gifts.”

  “After my injury, I convinced Alain that the dangers to his gift and his life were too great,” Hanna said. She leaned in, fearless as only those who’d already lost it all could be, and whispered to Becka, “What do you imagine will happen to your lovers when you lose control in the throes of passion? Have you no conscience?”

  Becka took a step back, Hanna’s words a frightening image she had yet to consider. “I have hurt no one! I mean besides you.”

  Hanna turned to Becka. “Who would mate or marry you, knowing the price might be the loss of their powers? Our gifts are the very heart of what elevates us above the other races. No wise fae would risk it.”

  “I swear, there have been no other accidents. I haven’t damaged anyone else,” Becka repeated, not at all liking the direction this conversation had taken. Yet the truth of Hanna’s words lingered. Who would want a partner who might maim them in a careless moment? “Haven’t any fae within Hawthorne had magical accidents?”

  Alain’s countenance softened. “But we’re here to discuss you right now, not them. It’s not your fault, Becka. None of us chose the gifts our bloodlines bestowed on us, and for a select few, it’s overwhelming. But others are due warning, and since your own house won’t do the right thing, it forces House Hawthorne to step up for the greater good.”

  Becka remembered stories she’d read from her childhood of gifts so powerful they drove their vessels mad. Not everyone learned to control or manage their gifts, no matter how much training they had. Some got drunk on their power, it was so potent. Some lamented away their days, unable to use gifts without fear of harming those around them. In those tales, some were locked away. They sent others to live in hermitages far away from those they might harm. And still others took their lives to protect those around them.

  She shivered at the thought. Astrid believed Becka had adequate control, but did Alain have a point? Were Astrid and Maura blinded, uncaring about what might befall those unaware within Becka’s immediate vicinity? But surely no! They’d sounded rational and reasoned over how to approach hiring her out and being cautious with the jobs she’d take.

  Or did I just hear what I wanted to hear?

  Seeing her lost in thought, Alain continued. “Calder warned me before we met that you were barely fit to
visit this manor, much less live here. If I had taken his warning more seriously, perhaps my cousin wouldn’t have suffered her injury. The least I can do is warn others, so they won’t face the same fate.”

  She wanted to grab Alain by the throat and shake him. Make him listen to reason. But it was no use. He believed he was doing the right thing, not just for his house, but also for all the fae-touched. She’d been mistaken to think there had ever been hope for reconciliation between them after Hanna’s accident.

  At least she didn’t have to marry this ass.

  Alain turned and left, the rest of the Hawthornes following close on his heels. Their next stop would be a ceremonial visit to Duchess Maura.

  Quinn stepped close to her, offering his arm once again. “For a moment there, I thought you were going to punch him.”

  Emotionally exhausted from the day, Becka barked out a humorless laugh. “I almost did! But now I’m going to nap. Hopefully, I can sleep straight through the bomb that’ll go off in this house when Alain talks to Maura.”

  “Would you care for some earplugs?” Quinn offered.

  Chapter 23

  Soft, fluffy clouds ensconced Becka in a warm, safe haven. Her toes flexed, silken threads sliding against her skin. Lassitude weighed her limbs. Her body. The most comforting scent of musk and vanilla filled her senses. She curled against the warmth, feeling reciprocal movements pulling her closer.

  Becka’s mind sharpened. A weight sat, settled over her calves. She opened one eye, peeking around. Quinn’s familiar form lay next to her, over the covers, propped up on a mass of pillows, his gaze focused on a tablet he held in his hands.

  She didn’t even know he had a tablet; most fae preferred not to depend on human technology and it was custom to not display such devices in public. He had kept the human-sourced tech hidden while within fae territory.

  Becka closed her eyes and breathed deeply, luxuriating in the feel of silken sheets against her skin with Quinn’s scent filling her lungs.

  “How long are you gonna laze around, pretending to be asleep?” his voice rumbled at her, intruding into her peaceful bubble.

  She opened her right eye, peeking again at his reclining form. He glanced at her and then looked back at his tablet.

  “Is it safe out there yet?” she asked.

  “Not even remotely.”

  She closed her right eye and curled against him more tightly, pulling the sheets up over her nose. The weight on her legs hampered her motion. She wiggled her legs and was chastised with a sharp squawk.

  Becka peeked down the bed to find Oriani glaring in her general direction.

  “Does your cat know he doesn’t sound like a cat? It’s more like an owl. Or dog. Dog-owl?”

  Becka chuckled, and then continued hiding under the covers, slowly undulating her legs in hopes Oriani would move off her.

  Oriani, tired of her movements, stood and stretched as he yowled plaintively. After a lengthy lecture explaining his displeasure, he wandered off the bed, likely in search of treats.

  Who’d been feeding him these past few days? Becka hadn’t been. One benefit of being a fae of standing, the day-to-day maintenance of things got almost magically handled.

  “He rules his empire fairly, but mercilessly.”

  “I’m impressed how you effortlessly overthrew his territorial claim.”

  “It’s one of the few areas where I excel at finesse.”

  Quinn chuckled. “That’s refreshing honesty.”

  Becka pushed back the covers, scooted up the hill of pillows, and then leaned her head near to Quinn’s.

  He set his tablet aside. “How are you feeling?”

  “Oddly, fairly refreshed.” She stretched again, relieved the soreness from yesterday had faded.

  “You slept long enough. Do you even remember Healer Illan coming by yesterday afternoon?”

  “I remember him giving me something foul to drink.”

  “Uh huh. He said it was for your own good.”

  “I’m sure, but couldn’t he make it taste better?”

  “The ways of healers are a mystery of foul potions. You’ll be happy to hear he’s coming back by this morning with another dose.”

  A shiver wracked her body, twitching to her fingers and toes.

  He chuckled, the rumbling coming from deep within his chest. “I see you do remember.”

  Memories from yesterday came flooding back to her. The cruel expression on Hanna’s face might haunt her dreams for some time, which she’d fully earned. “Ugh,” she groaned. “The Alain situation went off the rails.”

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  A wave of anxiety washed over her. She didn’t look forward to her next discussion with her mother after the falling out with Hawthorne. “Maura hasn’t been by?”

  “She stopped by last night. Said something like ‘It can wait, there’s no rush now. Let her sleep.’ And then left.”

  “Thank goodness for small mercies. I needed the rest.”

  “On the upside, you’re no longer engaged to marry that prick.”

  Becka smiled, reveling in the win for a moment. She rolled over towards him, crawling on her hands and knees until her face hovered over his. “That’s the best news. Wait, why are we alone? Where are the shifter guards?”

  “Right outside the door, I’d expect. I convinced them to back off a smidge.”

  “How did you manage that?” Becka asked.

  “It might have involved a bribe to Brent. But I doubt it would have worked if they didn’t already trust me.” He shot her one of his winning smiles, and her heart melted a little. At least she told herself it was her heart.

  An electric tension hung in the space between them. His heated gaze lingered over her, sending a thrill down her spine to her toes. He ran a hand from her shoulder down her arm. “I have even better news for you.”

  “Yeah?” She dipped her head down, brushing her cheek across his, the fine stubble on his chin tickling her skin.

  “I have two enforcers arriving shortly. With them here, we can crank through the interviews and find the poisoner within a couple of days.”

  “That is fantastic news.” She pulled back and shook her head. “Wait, how long was I asleep?”

  “Not counting the few minutes where Illan poured gunk down your throat? We got back here early yesterday afternoon. You slept through the evening and night. You didn’t even wake up to eat.”

  Becka’s gaze drifted between his eyes and his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

  His lips hitched with a smile, answering with a low, subvocalized “uh huh.” And then he leaned forward into her and captured her lips with his own.

  Becka pressed herself against him, reveling in the touch. The heat of his skin. The insistent hunger as his mouth danced against her own. The coarse feel of his shaved hair at the nape of his neck. The glide of his palms along the curve of her torso. The grip of his fingers on her hips.

  Her world might be on the edge of chaos, but this moment was pure bliss.

  A knock at the door brought them back down to earth with a hard stop.

  They both sat bolt upright, Quinn lingering a moment to run his fingertips along the line of her chin. Then he jumped up to get the door.

  Becka stood up, checking to make sure her pj’s were still on right. They were.

  He paused with his hand on the door handle. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  Quinn opened the door. Illan stood there, bag in hand. “I figured I’d drop by again to see my favorite absent patient. How are you feeling this morning?”

  “Like I finally caught up on sleep. And I’m not feeling sore and fatigued anymore, so that’s a big plus.”

  Lorelai and Shamus followed the doctor into the room, walking around, checking to see if anything was out of place. Becka told herself she appreciated their efforts, even knowing their arrival meant there wouldn’t be an opportunity to pick back up with Quinn after the healer left.

  She
needed a cool shower, and not just because she’d slept forever.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Illan set down his bag on the sofa table, opened it, and pulled out a thermos. “The last dose I gave you had a sedative, so that should have helped you sleep. This is full of detoxifiers to help your body continue to flush the rest of the poisons out.”

  “Does it taste better than the last one?” She shuddered.

  “I’m no chef, but it’s not as bad.”

  Becka steeled her nerves and then walked over, picked up the canister, and opened it. She plugged her nose and downed the whole thing in a series of forced swallows.

  Lorelai handed her a glass of water, and she downed that next.

  “Thanks.”

  “May I check your pulse?” Illan asked, and Becka handed over her wrist. He did his usual routine, checking multiple pulse points, acupressure points, and the clarity of her eyes and tongue. “You’re doing well, all things considered. Although your temperature is a little elevated.”

  Becka glanced at Quinn and then back. “I just got out of bed.”

  “It’s likely nothing more than that.”

  “Do we know what the poison was this round? It didn’t seem to be the same as the first,” Becka asked.

  “You’re right, it wasn’t. I know because you responded immediately to the tonic we use for accidental poisons.”

  “I thought Quinn had a special poison cure he brought in?” Becka asked.

  “Oh, I gave you that one too. One after the other.” He winked.

  Quinn brought his tablet over and handed it to the healer. Illan hesitated and then took it.

  “I know you did your own tests of the mints, but here are the results I got back from my labs,” Quinn said.

  Illan studied the screen for a moment, and then recognition dawned across his features. “Larkspur? Huh, I suppose it makes sense, but the concentration wasn’t potent enough to kill.”

  “Larkspur?” Becka repeated. “You mean the flowers that grow down by the river?”

  “Yes,” Quinn replied. “They’re common enough that House Rowan sends regular duty shifts to clear the area, as it’s a place the horses and goats commonly use for grazing.”