Stone Blood Legacy: A Shattered Magic Novel (Stone Blood Series Book 2)

by Jayne Faith

  I drew a shaky breath, and another. Then I turned and stumbled away from Melusine and nearly plowed into Jasper. He caught me by the upper arms and held me steady.

  “What did she say?” he asked.

  I looked up into his golden eyes. “You didn’t hear?”

  He shook his head.

  “Periclase is my father.”

  His eyes tensed, his golden gaze holding mine.

  I still had Jasper’s knife clenched in my fist. I pushed it into his hand. He glanced past me at Melusine, clearly hesitant.

  “We’re here,” I whispered. “If you have any doubt, you might as well do it.”

  As the blood on my wrist dried, I watched Jasper play out the same scene I just had. Melusine tasted his blood, but when she spoke to him, I heard only a grating hum. Her lips seemed obscured somehow, so I couldn’t even try to lip-read.

  When Jasper finally turned to face me, he was pale, but his eyes were intent with a faint spark of something that seemed . . . heightened. Surprised, and maybe awed. I was still too stricken to try to understand it.

  “Let’s go,” he mumbled in my ear. “She took what she takes. We don’t owe her anything more.”

  I glanced back at Melusine. She leaned forward and pushed her hands down on the armrests. The spider scuttled back over the chair right before she rose, and when she stood she somehow appeared taller than before. She seemed to be stretching upward, elongating until her head brushed the ceiling. Her face darkened, distorting with anger. I blinked, trying to make sense of it, but it was like trying to find the logic in a fever dream.

  And she was getting pissed.

  “That’s right, go,” she said, clenching her fists at her sides. “You only came to use me!”

  Jasper was pulling me toward the door, but something in the plaintive tone of her voice made me pause. I stopped in the doorway and turned.

  “We don’t have to leave,” I said calmly.

  She blinked at me.

  “We don’t mean to be rude,” I said. “Would it please you if we stayed for a bit, my lady?”

  She shrank down to her normal size and flopped back into her chair, slamming an elbow onto the chair’s arm and slumping to rest her face in her hand.

  “I guess you could warm up by the fire,” she finally said, her voice low and sulky. “And bed down in the barn. If you want.”

  I flicked a glance a Jasper. He didn’t look happy about it, but he gave a tiny nod.

  Something about Melusine reminded me of Morven. They were both dangerous in their own ways and both lived to take from others, but the difference was that Morven was always surrounded by people. He had his pub and his regulars, people who enjoyed being at the Aberdeen and weren’t only there for the other services he offered. In contrast, Melusine seemed very much alone. Perhaps she truly preferred it that way, but something in her childish outburst told me she didn’t necessarily relish her never-ending isolation. And I’d learned with Morven that it paid to show a bit of kindness, even if he wasn’t someone to trust and was happy to steal whatever you were willing to give.

  Kindness can be carefully offered. It can make a dangerous person, if not into an ally, possibly into someone slightly less dangerous.

  Melusine gestured to the high table in the small kitchen area. “Pull those stools over.”

  Jasper and I each carried a stool and set them near the hearth. I wondered if she ever had a guest at her little dining table with only the two seats, or if the other stool was always empty.

  My stomach grumbled noisily, and I pressed a hand into my midsection, casting a glance at the Fae witch.

  “There’s stew on the stove,” she said.

  I started to rise, but Jasper put his hand on my arm, gently pushing me back down. The look in his eyes said he preferred to get away from Melusine, so I let him go to the kitchen and rummage for dishes for our dinner.

  With Jasper across the room, the Fae witch leaned forward with her lips pursed and her pale-orange eyes gleaming.

  “He’s terribly good-looking,” she whispered. “Don’t you think?”

  My brows jumped up at her sudden change in demeanor. I tossed a glance at Jasper, but he was still busy in the kitchen. Either he hadn’t heard, or he was pretending for the sake of manners. Either way, the ancient Fae witch was looking at me expectantly, obviously wanting my opinion.

  “Yes,” I said. “He is a handsome man.”

  Her huge spider peeked over the top of her chair and then tentatively moved to perch on her shoulder again. “Mm, yes, look at his backside.”

  I didn’t.

  “You fancy him,” she said, narrowing her eyes at me and reaching up to pet her spider’s back with one finger. “I know you do. I felt it.”

  I shifted uncomfortably, and not just because of the reappearance of the enormous crawly thing. “I might, if, you know, we weren’t related.”

  She leaned back, laughed, and waved a hand. “Oh, that.”

  I thought she was going to say that being half-siblings shouldn’t stop us. Old Ones had different ideas of taboos, and it wouldn’t have surprised me if she thought it silly to be concerned about incest. After all, most of the Old Ones were related to each other in some way, if distantly.

  Instead, she leaned forward again.

  “You’re not related.” She raised her hand to her mouth and let out a little conspiratorial giggle muffled by her fingers.

  My eyes popped wide and my mouth dropped open, but before I could say anything, Jasper was there next to me holding out a steaming bowl. It smelled like heaven.

  Our gazes met, and I let mine linger longer than I meant to. Blinking hard, I looked down into the bowl.

  “Do you enjoy it here in the woods?” I asked Melusine. The question was awkward, but I wanted to get her talking about something else before she brought up Jasper’s ass again.

  “Well, why wouldn’t I?” she said, her former irritability returning. “I can live wherever I want to, and I chose this place.”

  I stuck a spoonful of stew into my mouth, as there was no good way to respond to her sulky words. The stew was fragrant, hot, and the only food I’d had in many hours. I was willing to put up with Melusine’s moodiness for a warm meal and a roof over my head for the night. I sorely needed a salt soak, having pulled armor so many times in the past couple of days. Being in Faerie full-time gave me a lot more stamina, but still, there were limits to my magic.

  “Do people come to you often seeking your expertise?” Jasper asked.

  I slid him a glance, surprised that he wanted to engage with her.

  A sly smile spread over Melusine’s face. “Oh, they try, but I rarely deign to speak to them.”

  “Why us?” I asked.

  For a moment her brows lowered, and I thought she would respond with another temperamental outburst. But then her expression turned considering.

  “The truth of your blood carries importance,” she said, looking at each of us in turn. “Equally so for both of you. As individuals and as a pair.”

  I shifted on my stool. A pair?

  “Can you tell us why?” Jasper asked quietly. “Or at least tell me why for my own situation?”

  I wondered what he meant by “situation,” but I didn’t even have a wild guess. There was clearly a lot more to him than just working as a high-level soldier in his father’s ranks. Scratch that—in King Periclase’s ranks. Not his father’s. I peered at him side-long, trying to guess whether his lineage was different than what I’d assumed. He had stone armor, so clearly there was New Gargoyle blood. He easily passed for part-Duergar, too, based on the square line of his jaw, his straight brows, pale skin tone, and wide shoulders. His mother lived in the Duergar realm, which meant she had at least some Duergar blood, so he could have gotten those features from her. New Garg, Duergar . . . and something else? If he’d ever had his blood divined—different than what Melusine did—he’d know his racial mix.

  Melusine snorted. “I’m not a fortune telle
r,” she said with a condescending twist of her lips. “I’m not here to tell you the future or what to do with yourselves after you leave.”

  “That’s not what I meant, my lady,” Jasper said with his signature mild tone. “Why do you believe the truth of our blood is important?”

  She drew in a slow breath and turned her gaze to the flames in the hearth. Several seconds of silence ticked by.

  “Because believing falsely about your respective lineages would lead you to take a . . . less desirable path,” she said finally. She seemed far away, almost as if she’d forgotten we were there.

  She’d said she wasn’t a fortune teller, but her response suggested she knew something of our futures, or at the very least had some opinion on the directions we took in our lives.

  Jasper and I exchanged a long look, the fire creating miniature dancing flames over his gold eyes.

  When my gaze returned to Melusine, I saw that she’d been watching us intently. For a moment, only a split second, her eyes were soft and vulnerable. Her face seemed to reflect regret and longing. But her expression quickly hardened.

  “The barn is out back,” she said. She flicked her hand dismissively and turned to stare into the fire again. “The moths will show you the way.”

  The Fae witch was clearly finished with us, so we silently rose, left our dishes in the kitchen, and moved our stools back to the little table.

  Once we were outside, I let out a long exhale. At the end of the breath, the truth that Melusine had revealed to me came crashing down like a ton of rocks. My feet slowed and then stopped. About a dozen lunar moths flitted in a moving cloud of pale wings and then peeled off to form a line. We were obviously supposed to follow, but my feet wouldn’t budge. A fatigue deeper than any I’d ever felt had taken hold, with invisible hands grasping my ankles and preventing me from taking a step.

  Jasper turned when he realized I wasn’t coming with him.

  “Petra?” He came back to where I stood.

  I pulled my palms down my face, as if that would wash away the weariness.

  “I think my mother was raped,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “She was Periclase’s captive. That’s what Oliver told me.”

  I shouldn’t have been saying such personal things, and it wasn’t like me to do so, but the echoing aftershocks of Melusine’s revelation had beat down some of my usual barriers. Oliver had prepared me somewhat, but the reality of it was still buffeting me from different directions. The more dangerous problem was that Jasper, who Periclase believed was his, knew I was Nicole’s sister. He knew that both of us were Periclase’s blood. That wasn’t good. Not at all.

  Jasper didn’t say anything. He only watched me with his golden eyes and a patient expression.

  “It doesn’t really matter,” I said, my tone too flippant to be convincing.

  I gave my head a shake and forced my feet to move. I brushed past him, following the moths.

  He caught up and walked beside me around the cottage to a trail leading away into the trees. I could just make out the roofline of what must have been the barn Melusine had given us use of.

  “It’s perfectly understandable to be upset,” Jasper said. “This is a shock. Periclase is an asshole. I thought so even when I believed he was my father, but I honestly don’t think he’s a rapist.”

  He was trying to be understanding, comforting even, but I wasn’t in the mood for heartfelt discussions about my newfound daddy issues and what might or might not have gone on between my blood parents.

  “No one can know about me, that I’m Nicole’s sister,” I said, my voice hard-edged. “That knowledge wasn’t part of our deal, Jasper. The broken vial and Melusine compelled me to reveal it. I trusted you to carry the vial, but it broke and forced my hand.”

  If I could get a binding promise out of him to keep my secret, it would be ideal, but I doubted he would agree to it. After all, he was sworn to the Duergar king. He was here as a representative of Periclase, to witness the information Melusine had given us.

  “I have no reason to tell,” he said.

  “Right now, maybe, but what if that information becomes useful at some point?” I pressed.

  “You want me to enter into a binding agreement,” he said.

  “Of course I do,” I burst out. “It was none of your business in the first place, and it’s—well, it could be dangerous. For me. On top of that, the last thing I need is for Periclase to start hounding me to swear to him, because that sure as hell isn’t going to happen.” My outburst trailed off into a string of cursing under my breath.

  He stopped and gripped my upper arm, forcing me to halt and face him.

  “Take a breath, Petra,” he said in that annoyingly calm tone of his. “I’m not out to destroy your life. I won’t tell.”

  “Swear to it?”

  He shook his head. “No binding agreements.”

  Anger shot through me. “Why?” I demanded.

  “I want you to trust me,” he said. “How about a secret for a secret, instead?”

  “Fine.” I peered up at him in the darkness. “Who’s your pops?”

  “Pick something else.”

  I folded my arms. “Not happening. Come on, Dad for Dad. It’s only fair.”

  He took in a breath and held it. I couldn’t really see his face in the dark, but I got a strong sense of his trepidation.

  He let out a long exhale. “Finvarra.”

  I blinked a couple of times. “King Finvarra? The ruler of legend? The High King of the Unseelie court?”

  “You think there are other Finvarras in Faerie?”

  “Okay.” I scoffed. “You’re trying to be funny. Who is it, really?”

  “You know I couldn’t lie,” he said quietly. “It was a direct question. I gave you the answer. It’s the truth.”

  I knew that, of course, but . . . the only response that would have surprised me more was if Jasper had said Oberon himself was his blood father. King Periclase was powerful and imposing, but he ruled only one court. King Finvarra was above Periclase, the unifying ruler of all Unseelie courts. And he’d been around for centuries. He wasn’t Oberon and Melusine old, but he was a living legend, much like Morven. Finvarra and his deceased wife Maeve had been responsible for the rise of the Unseelie courts to become on par with Oberon’s Seelie courts. Before that, the Unseelie had been inferior in every way—fewer numbers, courts that were constantly disrupted by coups and assassinations, and too much backstabbing and animal hedonism to ever change their position in Faerie.

  Finvarra and Maeve had organized the Unseelie, brought structure and some semblance of discipline to their courts, and created something that previously no one had thought possible—a High Court to rival Oberon’s. A Winter court to oppose the Summer court.

  But I couldn’t recall anyone speaking of an actual sighting of the Unseelie High King in my lifetime. At least, not when I’d been growing up and living full-time in Faerie. After I moved to the other side of the hedge, I only kept track of what Faerie news might help me in my job as a Guild mercenary.

  “How?” I asked, still dumbfounded. “How could Finvarra be your father?”

  “I believe you’re old enough to know how babies are made,” he said mildly. He seemed to be taking the news about his blood father with remarkable ease. I’d have been freaking the hell out if I’d just found out I’d been sired by a legend.

  I shot him a withering look. “You know what I mean.”

  He shrugged. “No idea. This was news to me.”

  “Do you think your mother knew it wasn’t Periclase?”

  He was silent for a long moment.

  “Yes,” he said finally. “She did tell me once that it was better to allow the Duergar king to believe what he believed. That it would be better for me, for my station in life. I’m not a Duergar prince, though. I’ve always been treated with only the bare minimum acceptance. In the context of Duergar royalty, I am formally recognized as his, but I’m still a bastard.”

>   “That’s better for your station in life than being Finvarra’s son?” I asked doubtfully.

  He gave me a sharp look. “Well, yes, if my mother was trying to keep my life somewhat normal. With Finvarra as my father, I’m in line to inherit the Winter Court. He’s not immortal. And he’s very old.”

  My lips parted as a new truth dawned on me. “Finvarra has no known living children. Until now.”

  I looked at Jasper with fresh amazement. The moonlight glinted off the planes of his forehead and cheekbones. He went quiet, suddenly seeming a bit shaken.

  “If Finvarra dies, every Unseelie ruler would go for your throat. Hell, they’d do it before he dies, just to have you out of the way when the time comes to fill Finvarra’s position.”

  “Now you know,” he said at a near whisper. “You must keep my secret too.”

  “I will.”

  We continued on in silence for a few steps, and I sank into thought, alternately considering what I’d discovered about my own bloodline and what Jasper had learned of his.

  “I tend to forget you’re Unseelie,” I said suddenly.

  He gave a quiet laugh, seemingly relieved to change the subject. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You seem like a decent person,” I said. “I know you’re trying to persuade me to help you bridge the rift between Duergar and the Stone Order, but you’re doing it . . . honorably.”

  That seemed to have shocked him into silence for a second or two.

  “That means more than you know,” he said, his voice pitched low.

  I pulled my jacket tighter around my torso, already regretting I’d spoken so freely. I was getting way too candid around Jasper. Maybe it was the fact that we’d been thrown together in so many strange ways over the past few weeks. Or perhaps it was having discovered unexpected truths about our bloodlines at the same time. It didn’t matter. I needed to be more careful.

  Yes, Jasper seemed like a decent man, but he suddenly had information he could use to hurt me. Not to mention the binding favor in his hip pocket that I was bound to pay him at some point.

  I felt agitated all of a sudden. My brain itched, and my muscles wanted to beat up something. I half-wished some of those servitors might find us here just so I’d have an excuse to draw Mort and slice off a head or two.