Rogue's Paradise

by Jeffe Kennedy

  She hesitated briefly, then took off.

  “Lady Healer, this is Mistress Nancy. She’s organizing the wounded by severity of their injuries. If you would—”

  “Excuse me?” she interrupted, then waved a languid hand at the array of suffering. “They should be put in order of rank. I don’t work on the lower fae. Or humans.”

  “Oh, is it beneath you?”

  She missed my sarcasm entirely. “Yes.”

  “You worked on me.”

  “Nonmagical humans,” she clarified. “I’m sure you understand.

  “What I understand is that you now work for me as much as for Lord Rogue. I’m telling you to treat according to Nancy’s order. If you choose to leave this employment, I’ll see you’re put out of the castle immediately. There are some nice playmates for you outside.”

  She whitened. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.”

  I must have looked mean with it because she physically flinched. “Agreed. I will treat according to that Nancy’s order.” She picked up her glamorous skirts and went to do my bidding.

  It’s good to be queen.

  Or, whatever my rank was.

  In the back of my mind, Rogue was still arguing with Falcon and some of the other nobles. Just as glad not to be part of that, I snagged a page and asked him to lead me to Larch. The Brownie was ably directing a crew of his fellows—or minions, I couldn’t be sure—in sealing up a breach in the hallway leading to the fallen tower.

  Several Brownies were manning buckets, dousing the fire spiders that streamed in. I asked Rogue to send me someone who could do magic and Fafnir appeared in moments, a sardonic twist to his hatchet face.

  “It appears I’m useful after all,” he said. “Enough to get me out of silver for a while.”

  “You and I can talk later. Meanwhile, stay here and get rid of these spiders.”

  He licked his lips. “With pleasure.” And he dissolved into his snake form, licking up great swaths of the swarming things with zeal. Wasn’t what I’d had in mind, but it would work.

  “And don’t eat any of the Brownies,” I told him. “Or anyone else, for that matter.”

  As Larch had told me this was the only breach in the castle defenses, I returned to the hospital hall. Still no Starling in sight. Now I began to worry, pacing up and down the rows. I caught sight of Athena’s distinctively spiked blue hair, a human man kneeling beside her so their heads were even.

  Walter?

  Oh shit.

  I ran, the voluminous dress that Starling had worked so hard to provide me with thankfully light as air. Athena gave me a pinched look, Starling on the floor next to her, bleeding from hundreds of blackening bites. “She ordered me not to tell you,” Athena burst out before I could say anything.

  I knelt down, too, brushing Starling’s shining blond hair—the color she’d wanted so badly—away from her face. Her skin felt chill and clammy, her breathing shallow.

  “She stayed back, on the drawbridge, making sure everyone got in,” Athena said. “Said it was her responsibility and you’d expect it of her. I told her she was being stupid, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  “You’re being stupid,” Starling muttered and half-opened glazed eyes. “Oh Gwynn, no! You’ll get blood on your dress.”

  I shook my head at her, half exasperated, half terrified. “Get Lady Healer.”

  “I tried. She said Starling’s not highest priority according to your orders and she can’t break her vow. There’s dozens worse off.”

  Dammit. It would be wrong to make an exception for Starling, right? Bad leadership precedent. Maybe I didn’t care about that.

  “I can help her,” Walter offered. Then ducked his head when I looked at him. “Hey, Gwynnie. Happy wedding, huh?”

  “You’ve learned to heal?”

  “Who knew? All those doctor shows maybe. Turns out it’s one of my best skills.”

  “How’s your control?”

  He both looked ill and proud—an odd combination I was one of the few who’d recognize and understand. “Perfect,” he said in a near whisper. “You know.”

  “I do.” And, following impulse, I gripped his hand.

  He looked surprised, then squeezed back. “Some club, huh?”

  “I don’t even want to see the T-shirts. Do it. Starling needs you.”

  Walt cocked his head and tapped the silver collar. “You’ll have to get the key.”

  I stood, scanning for Marquise and Scourge. Last I’d heard, they were at the gate, lasering any spiders that made it through. Heavens knew where in the castle the gate would be located right now. Mastering my discomfort, I touched Marquise’s mind. She responded with a mental kiss, a filthy suggestion—and offered me the silver key. With a precise wish that had her smiling like a proud tutor, I manifested a lead box for her to put it in, then pulled the whole thing to me and unlocked Walter’s collar, touching it as little as I could get away with.

  Walter looked much better than he had the last time I saw him. Of course it wouldn’t have taken much. But he’d lost the greasy chubbiness and certainly smelled better. Most of all, his former whining snarkiness had been replaced by a certain amount of steady character. With the silver removed, his personal magic welled up, full of browns and golds, distinctly human-flavored and earthy. Grounded. He’d never be a handsome man, but the discipline had given him a surprisingly attractive manliness.

  “Decent power,” I commented.

  He had his hands on Starling’s shoulders, looking into her. I tried to see what he did, but I slid into that mind-web world instead. Not somewhere I wanted to be with Titania waving her psychotic antennae outside. Odd that healing wasn’t one of my things, given my training in physiology. Sometimes I thought I knew too much and my brain got in the way.

  “You were right,” Walter replied absently. “A few days away from the dragons and off the silver-tainted cocoa, and I stopped feeling so damn weak and crazy.” His eyes flashed up at me. “The staff too. It works on you.”

  “I know.” I didn’t need reminding of that.

  Starling whimpered and concern creased Walter’s brow. “Hush, fairy-fly. You’ll be okay.”

  The blackened edges of the bites bubbled, poison edging out, oily black. “This stuff is slippery though. Hard to get a hold of.”

  “I might be able to help.” I’d encountered Titania’s trademark goo before, though mainly in memories. The physical stuff looked the same though. “Mind if I look in?”

  He snorted. “My head is an open playground these days. I have no secrets left. Come on in. Watch the land mines.”

  Knowing what he meant—I certainly had plenty of PTSD tucked away from my own training with Marquise and Scourge, though it bothered me less and less these days—I eased in, careful to stay in his surface thoughts, following the bright lens of his concentration on Starling.

  I caught my breath. Even gravely ill and covered with the unsightly wounds, she appeared radiantly lovely in his eyes. Almost not quite the same young woman I knew. But to him, she seemed almost like a goddess. Not the nasty kind, either. Somewhat abashed to witness the depth of his feelings, I pulled some clinical distance between me and that part of him.

  The poison did slip away from his healing grasp, tunneling deeper into Starling and also sending out waving tendrils, reminiscent of parasitic worms, seeking to spread their spores.

  Reaching for me and the child I carried.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  In Which I Let Go

  It’s tempting to classify the various fae as more or less advanced based on intelligence. However, I fear I’m applying anthropomorphic standards.

  ~Big Book of Fairyland, “Flora and Fauna”

  This was getting old.

  Though I had to give Titania credit for single-minded persistence. Knowing full well I must have some of the poison in me, from my few bites, and that nothing less than a full quarantine could protect us from the rest, I set the knowledge aside. Rogue migh
t be willing to burn everyone bitten on a pyre of incinerating magic, but I wasn’t.

  In the back of my head, he let me know we weren’t done deciding that.

  But neither did he interfere. Part of my mind registered his activities too. He’d been the one who knew where Marquise and Scourge were located. Now he’d retired from the hall to argue with Falcon and the other nobles about our predicament. They were worried that he’d made them all traitors in Titania’s eyes and weren’t listening to the possibility of shedding themselves of her yoke—most of them aghast that Rogue even spoke the words aloud.

  As if she hadn’t figured that part out already.

  I paid little attention. In our moment-by-moment division of labor, Rogue could handle the political shit. Never had been my forte and he excelled at it. At the thought, I felt the light touch of his hand on my cheek, an amused blush of pleasure, as if I’d inadvertently given him a great compliment.

  There would be no living with him.

  Focusing on the task at hand, I guided Walter’s mental touch as Rogue had done so often for me, showing him how, instead of wrestling with the oily stuff, to dissolve and weaken it. We got better at it, working more quickly, finally flushing the last of it from Starling’s body.

  By the time I withdrew, she looked much better to my not-crazy-in-love eyes. Her breathing came more easily, her skin warmer and she’d slipped into a real sleep. Walter worked painstakingly to heal each of her wounds, though I could see her own half-breed magic had taken over.

  Finally I stopped him. “She’ll be okay now. There are other people who could use your help.” I glanced at Athena, who’d stood by all this time, something that might surprise Starling. “Could you see that she’s taken to her rooms? Walt, you can go with her, but maybe after she’s settled, you could—”

  “No, Gwynnie.” He gave me his impudent grin, a shadow of his former cocky self. “I have a lot of karma to make up. I’ll stay here.”

  I sent him to help Lady Healer, and to show her what we’d learned about dealing with the poison—hopefully she’d pay attention—then surveyed the hall. It looked less ghastly than when we first arrived, with the lightly wounded weeded out and taken off to recover in other parts of the castle and the most severely wounded, or killed, similarly carried off. Still, the gorgeous wedding decorations provided a strange backdrop to the aftermath of our impromptu battle. The Stargazer lilies, with the satin glow of living flesh, in all shades of blue, gleaming in the candlelight, their sweet scent overpowering the smell of pain and death.

  Happy wedding, indeed.

  “Lady Gwynn.”

  I turned to find Officer Liam saluting me. The human officer usually in charge of General Falcon’s cannon fodder looked a bit haggard, blood-streaked and with varied bites. I hadn’t glimpsed him since that day they all arrived, at the other end of the drawbridge. For once, though, his thoughts toward me weren’t full of salacious attitude. I’d found that attractive once—enough to flirt with and kiss. Or, I’d been running so hard from Rogue that the man in my path had seemed to be pulling me toward him.

  “How fares the human population, Officer Liam?”

  He smiled, just a little. “Better than the fae, it seems. The bites are nasty, but the poison seems to hit the magic-bearers worse. You appear to be fine.”

  I gave him an arch look. “The blessing of being human in truth.”

  His gazed strayed to the left side of my face, where the silver lines no doubt gleamed in the soft light, though the cat had been mostly quiet through it all. He nearly made a remark—which, I heard in his head, of course—but decided against it. Rogue growled in the background. Then let me know he needed me. Better move this along.

  “What can I do for you, Officer?”

  “Begging your pardon, Lady Gwynn, but with the feast being held off and the seneschal wounded, people haven’t eaten for the full day and it’s well into night now. Some of the wee ones are growing quite hungry.”

  Oh, dummy me.

  When had I last eaten? Sometime the night before, though I didn’t feel it. The part of me that drew on magic took care of that, but it couldn’t be good for the baby. I’d become some sort of magical chimera, like Rogue’s spinning gate, switching from one to the next.

  Liam smirked, reading my dismay as clearly as I heard his distaste for my progression from purely human. Athena—bless her unerring timing—showed up then.

  “Starling is sleeping. What else can I do?”

  I put a hand on her shoulder with utter gratitude. “Could you go light a fire under whoever’s second or third in charge of the food around here? Nancy’s needed here, but surely someone else can handle getting everyone fed.”

  “Sure thing, Gwynnie.” She stuck out her tongue and made crazy eyes when I glared at her. “Ol’ Walt’s a piece of work, but he sure cleaned up okay.” She skimmed Liam with a look and shook her head. “Can’t say the same of everyone.”

  I smothered a laugh and started to go.

  “One more thing, Lady Gwynn.” Liam put a hand out to touch my arm, but dropped it before he made contact. “I know we have had our disagreements and you have reason to dislike me.”

  “Water under the bridge, Officer Liam. We both made mistakes.” I emphasized the last word. Talking to him felt like having to endure a conversation with any of a number of guys I’d gone out with once in college. Those one-off dates that ended in kisses and fizzled expectations.

  “True enough.” He had the grace to look abashed. “However, I still hold you in high regard. And I’m concerned for you.”

  I really couldn’t take anyone else warning me about my association with Rogue. “I’m afraid that ship has sailed.”

  “No, not that.” He grinned, some of his sunny nature showing through and he shook his head. “I knew you were out of my league even then. But you can’t blame a guy for taking a chance, right?”

  Rogue could, but I figured a little payback wouldn’t hurt him. He stopped grumbling in my head at the reminder.

  “No,” Liam continued. “I notice you don’t have your weapons about you. You should. Despite your many...gifts, you remain a mortal woman, yes? Sometimes the fight comes down to who doesn’t bleed to death. I’d hate to think I failed you in not reminding you of that.”

  “Good point. Thank you, Liam.”

  He bowed, grave now. “Keeping you alive may be the saving of us all, in the end.”

  Bemused, I watched him go, then went to find Rogue.

  I followed my instincts to the current location of the front gate, which felt easier than it had before. Probably Rogue’s long familiarity with the castle was leaking into my own memories. Certainly the place seemed less uncanny and spine-tingling than it had only a few days ago.

  When I found him, he was standing with Marquise and Scourge, surveying the great maw. I hesitated, but screwed down my courage and made myself walk up to them. He wrapped a long arm around my waist and drew me against his side, both comforting me and situating himself firmly as a buffer between us.

  “Titania’s forces are nearly to the moat and long-distance sight shows more on the way,” Rogue informed me. “We need to get the drawbridge up.”

  A team of human men stood by, ready to work the great wheels. I probably needed someone to send them food too. Athena cheerfully acknowledged the thought before I realized I’d projected it. Rogue, answering a question for Scourge about the drawbridge’s nonmagical properties, gave no evidence that I’d been too loud. Apparently I was getting better at this.

  “To get the bridge up, we need to stop the spin. Stopping the spin lets the spiders in. Besides, it’s draining you to keep that up at this speed.” When Rogue raised his eyebrow at me, I smiled. “Goes both ways, cowboy—I can feel it.”

  “We can douse or vanish the spiders at a certain range,” Scourge put in, black teeth gleaming against ebony skin, “but they replenish too fast for us to keep them out long enough to raise the gate.”

  “Goliath is
doing a positively heroic job of guarding the gate, but we can’t raise the drawbridge with his enormous self standing on it.” Marquise both spoke and projected the words at Darling and he mentally preened. Now there was a sucker for flattery.

  “What do you want me to do?” I asked Rogue, ignoring the other two. I could stomach being in the same room, pretty much. Friendly chat was beyond me.

  He looked down at me and pulled me a bit closer against him, wiping a smudge of something from my cheek. I probably looked like a wreck. The advantage of magical makeup, though—it never smeared or faded.

  “I thought you might have an idea,” he said. “You’re the inventive one.”

  “She always was, you know.” Marquise crooned.

  Scourge nodded. “So creative. Smart for a human. And responsive. Why, I remember—”

  Rogue gave him a scalding look that I felt but couldn’t see. Stopped Scourge in his tracks, for which I was hugely grateful.

  “If you’re up to it,” Rogue said to me, once again searching my face, no doubt feeling my weariness too. He certainly had a point—neither of us could keep this up indefinitely.

  “Yes. It needs doing. We need to get Goliath inside and the drawbridge up. The dragons will be fine outside. What about the Cylons?”

  “Will you worry about even them?” Rogue teased with a half smile.

  “Yes. Get used to it.”

  “They cannot be harmed.”

  “And the moat monsters?”

  “You can’t protect everyone, soft-hearted Gwynn.”

  “Then it’s not sympathy, but political. I’ve been hearing the discussions. You’re promising everyone protection. That means everyone we possibly can. Leave anyone out—even a moat monster—and it could come back to bite you. I mean that both literally and figuratively.”

  A look of almost comical exasperation crossed his face. “Where exactly do you propose to put them?”

  “It’s a big freaking place. You and I can make a lake to put them in—in the practice arena maybe. Can we poof them there?”