“In many ways, it won’t matter. Queen Tismelda is constrained by the Law, as are we all. If Frieda overthrows that, the fey will be able to act aggressively and openly to protect what we need.”
“We?” It wasn’t surprising that Caro, the former journalist, was the one who caught the word. “Do you agree with Tismelda?”
Here he was on safer ground. “Not me, but this is not an unpopular philosophy. Not many fey like humans.”
“It makes me wonder why we even have the Law anymore.” Michaela looked up from her laptop. “Does anyone want it?”
Eric nodded. “We do. I know you’re frustrated but the Law is what keeps peace. Don’t let Hanver and some disillusioned arcana stop what we know is good.”
“I know.” Michaela sighed. “I worry.”
Cormac ran a finger along her neck. A thrill vibrated his spine when she leaned towards him and lightly touched her hand to his.
“We need a plan,” she said. “Eric has laid out our orders. Hanver and the Dawning is our primary concern. Then Yangzei.”
“Could be one and the same,” warned Tom.
Michaela pushed a button to reveal a concealed whiteboard and flashed a marker. “Time to work it out.”
Chapter 32
“I’ve got it.” Stephan tapped frantically at his laptop as the images from the smartboard uploaded to his computer. Michaela clicked the button on the board to get a fresh screen.
“That’s our complete asset list. Any additions?” she asked.
The others shook their heads and she went back to her work, sketching a map of the eastern seaboard, the Dawning’s current location, and possible landing targets from memory. Stephan flashed up a map—the geography was a match.
Low whistles erupted from around the room, but Michaela was too focused to acknowledge them. She stared at the map, seeing only potentials. Frieda might go south. They had limited intel on her assets, though the mers were feeding constant updates to Evie, Eric’s data hound. Evie was too busy running analyses to come join them but she was watching Michaela develop the strategy on her desk screen and suggesting modifications as more information arrived.
You are Frieda. What are your goals?
Abruptly, she took on Frieda’s preferred masque, a blond bombshell of a woman. Behind her, Caro hissed. Not surprising, given that this was the face of one of her kidnappers. Knowing Eric would soothe her, Michaela closed her eyes and let Frieda’s persona permeate her. The woman was smart, cunning.
She wanted revenge. Michaela opened her eyes and stared thoughtfully at the map. Frieda wanted to strike back at Eric. It was personal.
Madden, though. He wanted power through the end of the Law.
“Frieda will win that struggle,” she murmured. Yangzei would be more likely to side with a fellow masquerada, or be under her control.
She shifted back to her own self with a sigh of relief and spoke into the wireless mic. “Evie.”
“Here.”
“I need you to run simulations based on the landing coordinates I’m sending you. Vary the troop strength.”
“Will do.”
Michaela paused. “Tom.”
“Yeah?”
“You need to map out all of the satellites in the area”—here she gestured at the map—“and match our embedded assets to them. We need to make sure every single one is covered. Madden will want humans to know what’s going on when they strike.”
Tom nodded. “I’ll get my team on it.”
“Good.” Michaela turned back to the screen, no longer seeing the room with the others. Now it was only her and the plan. She was immersed in possibility and it was her job to bring order to the chaos.
She began to write.
* * * *
Cormac had not realized how much intelligence turned him on. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to adjust himself without calling attention to how hot he was getting watching Michaela kick some serious strategic ass. Even Eric sat and listened as she created a complete campaign on the fly. Occasionally he or one of the others would ask a question or seek clarification, but for the most part they took notes and nodded. Michaela was the expert here, her generations of experience informing her every decision, and they knew it.
How different from his own methods. His success as a commander had been based on intuition formed by what he’d learned from the dolma. It wasn’t that he didn’t respect commanders who were able to formulate and then act on a plan; it simply wasn’t his way.
Perhaps if he’d thought like Michaela during the war, he wouldn’t be in this situation now. If he’d had Michaela during the war, Tismelda wouldn’t be queen.
Michaela put down the marker and stared at the fortieth or fiftieth board she’d filled. Stephan shook out his hands, wincing. He’d been in charge of making sure every one of Michaela’s points, maps, charts, notations, and plots had been captured from the smartboard and Cormac had seen his hands flying over the keyboard as he tried to keep up with Michaela.
His mate’s cheeks were flushed and her ponytail had slipped, letting her hair soften around her face. This was a serious moment. Michaela had laid out a plan so comprehensive it made his mind spin. Military commanders would sell their souls to have that level of insight and creativity.
Since Cormac was a crass bastard, all he could think about was getting her into bed.
“There’s only one thread we need to knot off,” Eric said. “Pharos. Can the councilors be depended on to uphold the Law?”
“No.” Cormac knew his answer was brutal but it was honest.
Eric turned to Michaela. “Do you agree?”
“Unfortunately. There were already divisions prior to Hiro’s death.” She looked at Cormac. “In some ways, I’d say his death was a release on some pressures that were previously hidden.”
A huge booming noise echoed through the house and Cormac leapt to his feet as devices on Eric and his team burst out in a flurry of crackling and vibrating.
“Intruder,” Tom barked. “Eric, I want you in the security room.”
“No,” said Eric calmly. “We’ll discuss this later but we have an Ancient in play now and the rules have changed. Caro, get to the security room.”
Caro was already on her feet and holding a nasty-looking knife. “No.”
“Intruder is heading for the medical bay.” Tom spoke smoothly into his phone. “Get all nonessential staff out.”
“Ivy!” Michaela was up and out the door before Cormac could even react.
“I want all security at the medical bay.” Tom ordered his team. “We have a human there. Repeat. After the Hierarch and his consort, the human is the priority.”
“Belay that,” Eric interrupted. “If they want Ivy, we need her safe.”
Cormac only heard the end of this as he sprinted out of the room with Stephan and Estelle at his heels. The sound of gunfire erupted from up ahead. Cormac burned around the corner and nearly fell back as a wave of heat burst out. “Michaela!” He and Stephan huddled against the wall, Estelle tucked behind them.
“He’s here,” Estelle whispered. The heat died down and her eyes had turned all black. “The Eye Thief. He wants them, the two of them.”
Cormac didn’t hesitate. In the room, a gigantic shadowy figure wrapped itself around two struggling women. Cormac’s heart dropped. Michaela had been caught mid-shift and her features were mixed with those of another. Ivy’s face was blank with terror and her mouth open in a silent scream.
Eric’s security poured in behind him and paused, uncertain. Cormac knew why: wave upon wave of ancient malevolence emanated from the constantly changing figure in front of them. Even Stephan and Estelle seemed frozen.
Fey magic was from a different realm. Cormac stepped forward. “Release them!”
The primeval masquerada twisted one of its heads to regard him,
then returned its attention to Michaela and Ivy. Michaela was still fighting. She needed help. Distraction.
The fey battle cry rose to his lips unbidden and Cormac dove towards the struggling trio. At first, his hands felt nothing, not even Michaela, but he focused and drove his hands deep into the darkest part of his enemy. Yangzei’s form slid over and around him, as ephemeral as smoke. Inside was nothing but swirling chaos, thousands upon thousands of Yangzei’s masques. Cormac’s entire body chilled as though cold fingers dragged along his flesh. The sensation was obscene.
Yangzei must have been diverted because Michaela managed to complete her shift, roaring as she rose to her full height. If Cormac had thought Yuri had been an intimidating masque, he was nothing compared to what Michaela accomplished here. Yangzei’s shadow grew as she did, but thinned when Michaela slapped a hand on her sigil.
Cormac groaned as the connection between them lit up. She was pulling something from him, dragging out the fey essence and using it against Yangzei.
Then Michaela quickly bent down and exploded her arms and legs outward, shattering the shadow that enveloped her. The force of Yangzei’s disappearance blew Cormac to the ground and for a moment, everything was black.
Chapter 33
“Ivy, come back. Ivy. Come back to me, Ivy.” Michaela sat on the floor next to the young woman, who lay on her back, breathing and with her eyes open.
Ivy, her smart, wonderful Ivy, was gone. The medic pushed her away for a series of tests that Michaela knew would be useless. Yangzei had come and taken what he wanted—Ivy’s soul, to join the multitude of others that he’d stolen over the eons, all clamoring for escape. The old myths about him were true.
Strong arms wrapped around her. In the aftermath of the attack, it had taken her and Cormac several minutes to come to their senses. Eric, luckily, had been further away and had started issuing orders instantly.
Get the medics.
Secure the house.
Find Yangzei.
The medic leaned back and pulled her stethoscope off her ears. “Physically, she’s fine. Breathing and heart rate are good. I’ll need to take her to the lab to do neurological testing. She’s catatonic.”
“I’m coming too.”
The medic frowned. “We need some time with her.”
“A full security unit will be with her at all times,” Eric said. He put his hand on Michaela’s shoulder and squeezed hard. “You’re hurting, but we need your help here to get her back.”
“I’m going with Ivy,” Stephan told the medic in a tone that brooked no dissent. “She doesn’t leave my sight.”
Michaela’s throat tightened with tears. “Thank you.”
Stephan looked fierce. “We’re going to get that bastard,” he promised. “Ivy will be well again.”
He followed the stretcher out, leaving Michaela staring at the empty place on the floor. All she’d wanted was to keep Ivy safe. Instead, she’d led her enemies straight to her. What defenses would a young human have against any masquerada, let alone Yangzei? Her heart fluttered in her chest as guilt weighed her down. She was the guardian of Yao’s line and she’d been the one to lead tragedy to it.
“Stop,” Cormac said softly.
She looked up to see him look stern. “What?”
“You think you’re to blame.”
Michaela’s entire body felt heavy and her very skin hurt. How could it not be her fault? “If it hadn’t been for me, they wouldn’t have found her.”
Cormac pulled her close. “I told you about the fey war.”
“I know. It led to your exile.”
“I had more than a thousand fey under my command. A civil war is hard, Miaoling. It kills the heart of you.”
When he called her by her real name, a soft relaxation ran through her body. She listened carefully, knowing that they didn’t have much time but craving a forgiveness she knew was impossible for him to give.
“There was a battle. I’d say it was a hard one, but by that point, they were all hard. Queen Tismelda’s forces were stronger and she’d supported them with a tougher magic than we could. I ordered my troops into a battle. I knew there was a very good chance they couldn’t win.”
“What?” She twisted to look at Cormac but he was staring at the wall. A muscle jumped in his jaw and one hand pressed hard against his leg.
“There was one last opportunity. The outcome on the war hinged on control of a single fortress. Tismelda had it and if we could gain it, her supply trains would be disrupted. We were outnumbered but there was a chance, a very small chance, that we could win. I ordered the attack.”
He looked down at her. “You know all fey have a special bond with nature.”
“Yes.”
“Did I mention that some fey are slightly more connected to the dolma?”
Michaela raised her eyebrows. “You may have forgotten that.”
“Good, because it would have been mostly a lie. They are very much more connected. They’re what we call caintir. Forest talkers.”
“All fey speak to trees, don’t they?”
“Not like this. I’m the last one I know of. My trainer Kiana was a caintir. It was her downfall. We’re feared because of our power.”
“What kind of power?”
“Other fey can sense aspects of the dolma, but only caintir can bend it to our will. I can speak with animals and trees, and get them to act for me.”
“The pigeons,” she said.
“That was a mistake. I can’t use it without Tismelda knowing and she would do to me as she did with Kiana. A slow, torturous death.”
“What happened in the war?”
“I might have been able to use my power to help the troops. It was possible. I don’t know. If I had, I would have doomed my sister and our forest. Had she known I was a caintir, and that I was willing to use it so openly against her, Tismelda would have stopped at nothing to end me. She would have killed Isindle as a precaution.”
“You needed to keep your sister safe.” She had been right to discount Rendell’s story.
“In the heat of battle, there’s often no good decision. I told myself I could bluff my way through but Rendell saw the weakness in my troop formation. I chose my family over my soldiers. You know how this ends. We lost. Most of my people were slaughtered. I heard their death cries in my ears for decades. In my sleep I listened to their accusations. I could have reached out to the dolma, caused the trees to form a barrier, the wind to rise. I didn’t.” He took a deep breath. “It was my fault they were dead. My fault that their children wept. My fault Tismelda was queen.”
He stood and pulled her to her feet. “I’m telling you this because it was my fault. I made that decision. You made the decision to guard Ivy for Yao and perhaps—not certainly but perhaps—led Yangzei to her.”
His every word beat into her like a drum. Her fault.
“However.” Now he placed his hand under her chin and tilted her head up so she looked him right in the eyes. “That doesn’t matter. Right now, stewing in fault and guilt are a self-indulgence you can’t afford. The question you need to ask isn’t whose fault it is.”
Michaela nodded, understanding pushing away her doubt. Cormac was right. “What can I do to fix it?”
Cormac kissed her hand. “What can you do to fix it.”
Chapter 34
A day later she was no closer to a solution. Cormac and the others had forced her to sleep but her dreams had been so tormented with nightmares she woke more exhausted than when she had gone to her rest. Cormac had been lying in bed beside her and had reached out to pull her close. They had lain silently and his touch had soothed her enough to at least calm her thundering heart.
Michaela stared wide-eyed at the dim shadows on the ceiling. The last twenty-four hours had been maddening. A masquerada had been sent to take Ivy’s place in her class
es and reply to her mother’s texts within the expected two minutes. This was in clear violation of the masquerada tenet of not taking on the masques of others without permission, but Michaela didn’t care. She would not complicate Ivy’s life more by creating an absence the young woman would need to explain if she became well again.
When. She cursed herself. Not if, when. Because she was going to find Yangzei and pull him apart until she found Ivy’s stolen soul.
They’d taken turns staying with the catatonic girl, each doing what they could to whisper assurances and tell stories to help bring Ivy back to them. Michaela had told secrets about Ivy’s parents, while Caro had brought in a dog-eared copy of To Kill a Mockingbird and settled down to read aloud in a soft Southern-accented voice. Tom had discussed military tactics of the Romans before Estelle displaced him to chat about how to create the perfect red lip. Cormac had told the still girl about Yetting Hill. He’d stopped when he’d caught sight of Michaela listening at the door.
“You make it sound alive,” she had said to him. Despite Cormac’s impressive storytelling ability, Ivy hadn’t moved.
“It is alive.”
Now he spoke into the darkness of their bedroom. “I didn’t get a chance to ask earlier. Any updates?” Michaela had been working with Eric’s team to try to understand what had happened.
Michaela sighed. “Not much. Eric has Evie working with historians to understand more about Yangzei but there’s not much hope.”
“Why not?”
“We don’t know enough,” she admitted. “Our archives were largely destroyed during the arcane war. Estelle is checking to see if the vampire historians can shed light on Yangzei and what happened to him.”
“I don’t know much about the masquerada, but Yangzei’s capabilities seem far beyond what any current masquerada is capable of doing.”
“They are, but I couldn’t tell you if those are what he could do initially, or if his powers have grown over time. We don’t even know where he’s been hiding, how he found us, or why he attacked Ivy. I can only assume it was on Frieda’s orders.”
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