Masked Desire

  Cormac put his hands on his eyes in a series of jerky motions. “You could have died.”

  “I didn’t, though. What’s our plan?” She tested out wiggling her toes and fingers and was relieved to find the life coming back into them. Beside her, Cormac did the heavy breathing of a man who was very obviously trying to cope with the woman in his life without going insane. She waited.

  “Fine. You win.”

  “It’s not a matter of—”

  “No. Enough. The Queendom is dangerous and I am an exile. I can be executed on sight. We are going to get back alive and to do that, you are going to listen to me. Am I understood?”

  He spoke to her like a commander and she nodded. This was professional now, and his tone had changed to reflect that.

  “I can’t send you back alone.”

  “Then what do we do?”

  “We stay here until we recover. It should take an hour for me and then if you are longer, I can at least hide you.”

  “Are we safe?”

  “We’re on the edges of the Queendom and in a relatively out-of-the-way area that has an alliance with Yetting. There are no guarantees, but this is as good as it gets for us.”

  “We need to get to Isindle.”

  “She lives in the magehood’s fortress and I would keep her safe there. We only need her astral body to come. When I’m stronger I can send her a message.”

  Michaela’s mind cleared and she sighed with relief. “Is there a way to speed up this process?”

  He snorted. “None. That’s why we only use this route in emergencies. It’s a bit like working out pins and needles. Keep trying to move. Speed is our friend here. We need to get what we need from Isindle and get out before we’re spotted.”

  A voice from behind them made Michaela’s heart drop.

  “Oh, I think you’re much too late for that.”

  * * * *

  Shite. Naturally the queen would send her most annoying lackey. She must have been monitoring the borders with an eagle eye. This was exactly why Michaela should have stayed at home. Now he had to worry about her. She should be safe and he couldn’t keep her safe here.

  Why. Did. She. Not. Listen.

  “Hello, Rendell.” Michaela greeted Queen Tismelda’s torturer with an insouciance that Cormac appreciated despite his anger. “How have you been?”

  “Councilor. I am astonished to see you. It takes great courage to illegally enter the Queendom, especially as the unlawful mate of an exile.” Cormac sensed a grudging admiration in his tone.

  “After Cormac told me so much of the beauty of your land, I couldn’t rest until I’d seen it.”

  “Then I can only apologize you will not see more of it.” Pleasantries complete, Rendell walked around until he stood in Cormac’s line of sight.

  “Rendell.” Although he had recovered some of the use of his limbs, Cormac didn’t move. Better to make Rendell think he was as weak as possible. It might give him an advantage.

  Rendell rolled his eyes. “Pathetic.” He snapped his fingers at the servants who were out of Cormac’s sight. “Treat Councilor Michaela with respect and make sure she is comfortable.”

  The stress on Michaela’s comfort was not lost on Cormac. Rough hands stripped his weapons off before rolling him onto a litter they wrapped with linen and attached to a pair of black mules. Michaela gave a gasp of wonder as she was placed in an open-roofed palanquin. Rendell rode a white stag with a rack of antlers so wide Cormac knew only magic was keeping the poor thing’s head up. “The queen wishes to see you both immediately.”

  “Cool.” Cormac didn’t have to see Rendell’s face to know he was pursing his thin lips in distaste. He hated all slang and particularly modern English vernacular. Cormac wasn’t a fan himself, but he was willing to embrace anything Rendell disliked.

  “I must say that I was surprised you brought your mate here.”

  Like it was his decision. “You’ve worked with her.”

  “Ah. I see. She didn’t ask your permission. The queen may like that. Or she may not.”

  To say anything to this would be fatuous, so Cormac lay back on the litter and relaxed despite the constant bouncing. The best way to recover from a rogue portal was mental and physical stillness to allow his mind and body to reconnect.

  But he’d never had to deal with Rendell before. The other fey kept talking, his voice a snake in Cormac’s brain. Rendell would edge right up to a topic that he knew would interest Cormac—usually for reasons of self-preservation—then veer off into a totally different subject. Thus, on the long ride to court, Cormac almost heard about Yetting Forest, his sister, and Rendell’s thoughts on Pharos and Hiro. It was like following a goddamn hummingbird.

  Then there was his fear for Michaela and how she would react to Queen Tismelda. Did she realize that the queen ruled the Queendom with an iron fist?

  Cormac? Is it true?

  Isindle. He went straight into his request. You need to find out how to defeat the Ancients, especially the masquerada known as Yangzei, the Eye Thief. He attacked a human, and she is alive but catatonic. Michaela was able to defeat him in combat, we think in part with fey magic. Bring your findings to the Hierarch, Eric. Every minute counts.

  What? She sounded stunned.

  The balance of the world hinges on this, sister. Please.

  Cormac, I need to talk to you.

  Suddenly her voice disappeared and Rendell’s smirking face appeared over his. “Having a private conversation?”

  That asshole. Rendell had somehow managed to interfere with his connection to his sister before he had a chance to ask her about finding allies to help him alleviate the queen’s anger.

  “Of course, the rumors about Madden are getting out of hand,” said Rendell casually as Cormac grit his teeth and stared at the canopy of golden leaves that shook in the wind overhead. “I even heard…ah, and here we are.”

  The litter dropped to the ground with a thump and Cormac rolled out and stumbled to his feet. Rendell and the others watched him without offering help, which he wouldn’t have accepted. Once the dizziness wore off, Cormac stood straight and went to assist Michaela. She was able to walk but leaned heavily on his arm.

  “Scenic,” she said.

  Cormac held on to her and gazed at a scene he’d thought was lost forever.

  The fey court was exquisite. Staircases formed from living vines led up to the upper branches of the great trees that formed the pillars of the main throne room. Fey drifted through, each dressed more beautifully than the others. He looked around, seeing familiar faces from years ago. Silana looked Michaela over curiously and gave him a small wink before tossing her lavender hair and strolling off. She was friends with Isindle and kind at heart but not even she would have the courage to greet an exile with a masquerada mate openly at court.

  Whispers passed through the court and more fey arrived, some coming out from rooms formed within the trees, others from the gardens that lay for acres around the throne room.

  “Lord Yetting.” The pure voice rang out and the court stilled.

  Cormac bowed gracefully. “Your Majesty stripped me of that name years ago.” The polite words rolled off his tongue. Beside him Michaela fielded the stares with aplomb and a faint superior smile worthy of a fey princess.

  Queen Tismelda stepped out to the tinkle of bells. Her flame-colored hair was caught up in intricate coils dressed with green leaves and her gown was a vibrant sapphire. She was lovely, but Cormac knew her beauty was no more than a glamour designed to awe. He bowed lower. He might not like the queen, but he still respected the throne she represented.

  Also, it was possible that he’d gotten wilier as he’d aged. The young hothead who chafed at the idea of bowing had been replaced by a man who understood the rules of the game. If bending his head ten degrees lower would help get him what he wanted,
then so be it. He would give what he didn’t prize in exchange for what he did.

  Not that even the queen was silly enough to swap his exile for a bow, but it might dispose her to be more generous than she planned.

  Before he could introduce Michaela, Tismelda turned and disappeared through a gated filled with a gossamer haze.

  “Let’s go,” Rendell said. “The queen doesn’t want an audience for what she wants to say to you.”

  That was somewhat cheering. Usually she loved a crowd to admire her authority. Cormac turned to Michaela and leaned down. His sigil had been unusually silent, and he was concerned about how she was coping with the tension. The Lilac Court was notoriously cruel, so ruthless there was a garden of tall trees in the very back with strong low-hanging branches. The courtiers called it the Grove of Tears, where those who could not bear the shame of the sharp, subtle ridicule of court left this life. “How are you?”

  The smile didn’t move. “I’ve had better days.”

  “This one’s probably about to get worse.”

  “Oh, good. I was worried. The queen seems charming.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Yes.”

  “Please don’t take on a masque,” he muttered. Scaring the hell of out the Lilac Court by turning into some monstrous giant was definitely a second-visit action.

  “Have they never seen a masquerada before?” she asked. “They’re gawking like I’m some rare animal.”

  “For them, that is probably a close analogy. Some have never been out of the Queendom.”

  “They should. Travel is mind-opening.”

  “No one accused the fey of being open.”

  Still with that smile she took his arm and they strode across the glossy stone floor. All eyes were on him, and he made a deliberate effort to look as many courtiers in the face as possible.

  Assailed by memories, it affected him more than it should. Leith, by the pillar, had fought beside him during the war and had saved his life more than once. Otero had been his first commander and had lifted a tree off him with her extraordinary strength.

  To his shock, he saw many of those he thought to shame and intimidate by his direct gaze were watching him openly and returned his look with a tiny, almost imperceptible gesture of recognition and…pity?

  Pity for what? A lead feeling settled in his gut as they moved through to the gardens. The Snow Field was Cormac’s least favorite of all the gardens at the fey court and Tismelda knew it. During the war it was here he’d been found unconscious, the white snow around him pitted with bright blood. It was here that she’d proclaimed his exile. This glittering, barren scene had been the last sight he’d had of his homeland.

  He pulled Michaela closer, both grateful to have her with him and wishing she was safe in Eric’s house. This was not going to be good.

  Chapter 36

  Michaela had seen many wonders during her journeys around the world. She had seen a bay of ships on fire, lighting the water for days with their hellish glow. She had seen miracles in medicine. Geniuses creating art that spoke directly to the soul. Priceless jewels and porcelain and sculpture had passed through her hands.

  None of it prepared her for the spectacle of the Queendom. Even though she hadn’t been able to see much from the litter she’d been carried on, the delicate scent of the breeze that flowed through the silken curtains had been intoxicating. Fuchsia birds sang songs of stunning complexity and golden fruit hung heavily on the trees.

  Then there was the court. The fey were physically magnificent, decorating a palace that looked like a filigree dream. She’d done her best to look as though all of these beauties were boringly mundane but she’d almost become dizzy as she tried to take it all in.

  At least Cormac was beside her, and her sigil had warmed and reassured her. She stepped cautiously through a causeway to what Cormac murmured was the Snow Field. He didn’t like it; she could tell from the way her sigil almost cringed back into her flesh. Without thinking, she pressed her palm on it.

  Cormac relaxed beside her and for a moment, Michaela accepted the power they had over each other. It was a responsibility she hadn’t wanted but now felt natural. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to continue being mated: being mated as a woman was nothing like being married as a child. They could discuss it if they survived the next hour.

  Queen Tismelda strolled over the ice path to stand near a crystalline frozen waterfall. Shards of sunlight lit the scene and Michaela had to stop from rubbing her eyes against the harsh white—it would be seen as a weakness and she couldn’t afford that here. Cormac remained silent and she followed his lead, conscious of Rendell standing near the gate with his bow in his hand. The threat was unmistakable—one false move and Rendell would shoot them full of arrows. It was clear Cormac respected Rendell’s aim: he walked slowly with his hands in sight and Michaela did the same.

  “You have brought your mate, Lord Yetting. Introduce her.”

  “Michaela Chui, High Councilor of the North American masquerada and personal friend to the Hierarch and his consort.” Michaela approved of his clear point: mess with her and Tismelda would have to deal with Eric.

  “Madame Chui.” The queen stared at her, unabashed. “You are inside the Queendom.”

  Michaela wasn’t sure if that was a welcome, but decided to pretend as if it was. “Thank you.”

  “Lord Yetting.” The queen paused and ran her hand down a long, gleaming icicle, then turned and pulled the hood of her white velvet cape over her head, draping it with supreme elegance over her crimson hair. “I do not know where to start. You broke your exile by mating without permission, and not even to a fey. I still cannot decide if that is better or worse. At least I have only one traitor to punish instead of two.”

  Mating broke his exile? That’s why he’d been looking at his decree. It wasn’t coming here that was the problem. It was her.

  Cormac said nothing. Michaela cleared her throat. Perhaps the queen was reasonable and she could fix this mess. “The mating was because of me.”

  The queen’s heavy red brows shot up. “Did you speak?”

  Bitch. “I was the one who insisted on the mating. Not Cormac. He is innocent.”

  Cormac squeezed her arm and was speaking before she even finished. “My mate exaggerates. I could not live without her.”

  What the hell was that about? Was his stupid male pride getting in the way of the out she’d given him? Now was not the time to hash it out. God only knew how many others were listening.

  The queen turned to Cormac, and Michaela had the distinct sense she was now dismissed from the conversation. When she spoke to Cormac it was in the silvery fey tongue.

  “My mate does not speak our language,” Cormac said smoothly. “Let me translate. The queen said that I have been much in the human world.”

  “Of course the masquerada would not know our speech.” The queen sounded pitying. “I will speak hers so she does not linger in ignorance.”

  Yes, a class-A bitch, decided Michaela.

  The queen continued speaking. “Tell me what you know of the outside world, Lord Yetting.”

  “I know much,” Cormac said airily.

  “As proud as always.” Tismelda sounded merely as though she was stating an observation and despite the situation, Michaela nearly laughed. The queen knew her man. Her sigil pulsed and Tismelda’s gaze went to her chest as though she could see through to the dark green design that was their claim on each other.

  “Only the truth. Tell me what you wish to know.”

  “Describe for me what you’ve seen since you’ve been there.”

  They were there so Cormac could give the woman a history lesson?

  Cormac didn’t react. “The world has transformed in the last centuries, but the beings who live in this altered world remain selfish and selfless, base and noble. They haven’t change
d.”

  “I heard an Ancient has returned.”

  “Ah?” He said no more. Michaela listened carefully. How did Tismelda know?

  “Lord Yetting, you should be executed where you stand, but I will give you a gift. A choice where there should be none.”

  Cormac stiffened and Michaela prepared herself to fight.

  * * * *

  Then, shockingly, Tismelda threw back her head and laughed. “But you disobeyed in such a fashion. Very impressive and not what I expected of you, Cormac Redoak. It made me wonder if I had underestimated you.”

  Cormac kept his face very still and prayed she hadn’t found out that he was a caintir. No, if she had he would already be in chains. Please let Michaela stay quiet. Better that Tismelda think it was a true love bond—she would feel that she had leverage on him, which might work to his advantage. “I merely live in exile, your majesty.”

  “Which is why I brought you here. Rendell, leave us. The mate as well.”

  Beside him, Michaela sniffed. “You may refer to me as Councilor Chui.”

  Cormac and Rendell shared a glancing look of disbelief. This was not how one spoke to the Blossom Queen.

  “I could,” said the queen indifferently. “Rendell, leave. Take the masquerada with you.”

  “I think not,” said Michaela.

  Cormac glanced over. The queen didn’t like challenges or strong women. Michaela’s mere presence might be enough to set Tismelda off. “Please,” he murmured.

  His mate tightened her lips but nodded. She ignored Rendell’s politely proffered arm and followed him out a side door. Cormac was grateful she would at least be spared the stares and whispers of the court.

  He’d have a lot of explaining to do when they got out of here, though.

  The queen looked pointedly at Rendell’s retreating back. “The perfect courtier, is he not?”

  He couldn’t help it. “Ideal. For a dog.”

  Again, she laughed. “I’ve missed your sharpness here, Cormac. I want you back.”

  Time to tread carefully. “Majesty?”

  “The world outside is changing and this time, the fey will not be able to stay detached. We are arcana, though of course not diluted by the root human stock. I mean to be on the winning side.”