Harlequin Nocturne May 2016 Box Set

by Susan Krinard

  No one answered. Everyone was staring at the small, bearded man at Moncoya’s side.

  “Have you figured out who I am yet?” Iago spoke directly to Cal.

  “I know who you look like. But you can’t be who I first thought you were.” Cal was gazing at Iago as if he’d seen a ghost. “Mordred died at the battle of Camlan.”

  “Who is Mordred?” Tanzi whispered to Lorcan, twining her fingers more tightly with his. The tension in the room was so thick he felt he might choke on it.

  “King Arthur’s illegitimate son with Morgan le Fay.”

  Tanzi wrinkled her brow in confusion. “I thought Morgan le Fay was King Arthur’s sister?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “You are very certain that Mordred is dead.” Iago seemed to be enjoying himself now he was the center of attention.

  “I should be.” Cal’s expression was grim. “I killed him myself right after he injured Arthur.”

  Iago’s smile turned nasty. “At least you are not denying the rumor that you were my father’s murderer.”

  “Iago, of course. That’s where I’ve heard the name. You are Mordred’s son?”

  Iago bowed slightly in acknowledgment. “I was raised by my grandmother Morgan le Fay and her half-sister Niniane—whom I think you know only too well—on the Isle of Avalon. Between them, they taught me everything they knew. In other words... I’m your worst nightmare, Merlin Caledonius.”

  “Wasn’t Morgan le Fay a faerie?” Tanzi whispered to Lorcan again.

  “Faerie. Witch. Or the worst possible combination of both. Whatever Morgan was—or possibly still is—none of us, not even Cal, would want to mess with her. If your man there really is her grandson, I’m thinking we’re all in big trouble.”

  “You sort out the faerie, Cal. I’ll take the new guy. Lorcan can have a rest and sit this one out.” Jethro was beginning to sound impatient.

  “You must be Jethro de Loix.” Iago turned to him with a smile. “I heard you liked to talk yourself up. It’s a shame we haven’t got all four of Niniane’s murderers here, so I can finish you all at once. But I don’t imagine your little necromancer star will pose too many problems once I’ve dealt with the three of you.”

  “Leave Stella out of this.” Cal’s features hardened further.

  “For God’s sake, can we all stop talking now and get on with kicking the shit out of these two?” Lorcan made a move to grab Iago by his shirtfront.

  To his surprise, the sorcerer sidestepped him. He hadn’t imagined Iago would be particularly brave when it came to a physical confrontation, but after all that bluster, Lorcan thought he might at least attempt to fight back. What happened next was even more bizarre. Iago and Moncoya moved closer together in a choreographed movement, almost as if they were about to embrace or step into an old-fashioned dance. When they were facing each other only inches apart, both men extended their arms to shoulder height and began to spin wildly on the spot, moving so fast that they became a blur of motion.

  “It’s obviously a private thing. Let’s give them a moment.” Jethro regarded the phenomenon in disgust.

  Gradually, the spinning slowed and then stopped. When it did, they were faced by two identical, smiling Moncoya figures, both clad in the same burgundy-and-white clothing. “Hell. Now we don’t know which evil bastard is which.” Cal ran a hand through his hair.

  “Go for the face. The one who squeals like a girl is the real Moncoya,” Lorcan said.

  “Ahem.” Tanzi gave him a you’ve-totally-said-the-wrong-thing look.

  “Sorry.” He grinned apologetically. “The one who squeals like a faerie king with chipped nail polish is the real Moncoya.” Becoming serious, he lowered his voice. “Take Vashti to Ailie’s cottage and keep her there. I want you out of this.” He hoped she’d understand the subtext, which was that he didn’t want Vashti adding her strength to that of Moncoya and Iago.

  She nodded. “Just be careful.”

  “I will. Now I have you, I’ve too much to lose to be anything else.”

  Cal waited until Tanzi had dragged a protesting Vashti out of the cottage. When he spoke again, his voice was as cold and hard as a steel shutter slamming down. “I don’t care which one is which. I’m taking one or both of you back with me to stand trial.”

  “Two against three.” One Moncoya grinned at the other. “I like those odds.”

  “Make that five against two.” Raimo and Ronab sidled into the room and arranged themselves on each side of Lorcan. “When our master fights, we stand with him.”

  “I didn’t know you had yourself a couple of imps.” Jethro regarded Lorcan in surprise.

  “Nor did I.” Lorcan’s tone held a trace of weary resignation. “Welcome to the team anyway, guys.”

  He was tired of waiting. With a practiced movement he knew Cal would follow, he lunged forward. He figured Iago would be the easiest target, and he knew Moncoya would fight dirty. But which was Iago? He took a chance, delivering a swift kick to the gut of one opponent while Cal brought his elbow up hard under the chin of the other. They both went down. Too easily.

  Raimo and Ronab rushed forward. “It’s a trick. Stay back,” Lorcan ordered, but the warning came too late.

  There was a flurry of activity, during which one of the burgundy-clad figures vanished. The other lashed out with a lethal-looking blade, striking Ronab in the neck. The imp toppled forward, hitting the floor with a thud. The Moncoya figure sprang back, distaste spreading across his features as the imp’s blood gushed over his white breeches.

  “That’s the real one.” Lorcan rushed him. “Take care of Iago.”

  “We would if we could see the fucker,” Jethro called back.

  Lorcan didn’t have time to respond. He threw himself onto Moncoya, pinning the faerie king to the floor with his superior size and slamming his fist repeatedly into the other man’s face. Moncoya writhed beneath him, but couldn’t break free. All the fury and resentment that had been burning through him toward Moncoya for his treatment of Tanzi found an outlet now that he finally had Moncoya in his power, and Lorcan was only vaguely aware of what was happening around him.

  Nearby Raimo was cradling Ronab’s lifeless body in his arms while the other side of the room suddenly erupted into a maelstrom of violence and cursing. Lorcan paused, his arm suspended in the air on its way to Moncoya’s face again as he assimilated what was happening. Cal and Jethro had found Iago. The sorcerer had transformed himself yet again, becoming a full-sized male tiger. He was tearing up the room in an attempt to get at Cal and Jethro, who were holding the table between them and using it as a makeshift shield.

  Lorcan dealt a final blow to the faerie king, rendering him unconscious. “Raimo, get Moncoya out of here and lock him up. Make sure he can’t go anywhere.”

  “I can’t leave Ronab.” The imp’s side-to-side eyelids fluttered.

  Lorcan felt for a pulse in Ronab’s neck. Raimo watched him, his hopeful expression fading pathetically when Lorcan shook his head. “There’s nothing more you can do for him.”

  With a gulp and a nod, Raimo released his friend’s body. Giving Moncoya’s unconscious form a sharp kick in the ribs, he grasped him by the wrists and dragged him out of the cottage. Lorcan grabbed the bloody knife that was still protruding from Ronab’s neck. With a sharp twist, he pulled it out of the imp’s flesh and wiped it on Ronab’s shirt.

  “Sorry I’m a bit late to the party, guys.” Lorcan sized up the situation. The tiger’s teeth were bared in a furious snarl. “One of us needs to get on its back.”

  “It’s not a fucking fairground pony,” Jethro muttered as the huge cat lunged again.

  Ignoring him, Lorcan tossed the knife to Cal before circling the tiger. The animal sensed his intention and followed his movement, snarling and lashing at him. Cal and Jethro distracted it by s
houting and banging on the table and, when it turned their way again, Lorcan threw himself onto it, clinging to the thick pelt of its back for all he was worth. The tiger roared in fury, lunging and rearing as it attempted to throw him off. Lorcan managed to stay on and get a hand up so he could reach for its eyes.

  Cal and Jethro smashed up the table and were coming at the tiger using the wooden legs as clubs. Cal also had the long-bladed knife extended in front of him. Slowed by Lorcan’s weight on its back, and his fingers gouging its eyes, the tiger promptly vanished, leaving Lorcan sprawling on the floor.

  “Tricky bastard,” he muttered. “What’s his next prank going to be?”

  They didn’t have to wait long to find out. Seconds later, Jethro jerked uncontrollably before dropping to the floor clutching at his throat. As Lorcan and Cal hurried to his aid, Iago materialized again. The smaller man was holding his hands around Jethro’s throat and, as they watched, their much larger, more powerful friend shook him off and grappled with him. As the two men rolled around on the floor, Lorcan struggled to see what was happening.

  “He’s doing it again,” Cal pointed out. “He’s transforming himself into Jethro, so we can’t figure out which one is which.”

  Sure enough, when the two beings on the floor separated, they were identical. Twin Jethro figures started to get to their feet, eying each other in horror. “This is taking showing off to a whole new level,” one of them commented in a long-suffering voice.

  That was good enough for Lorcan and he drop-kicked the one who had spoken in the side of the head before he could rise any farther. The fake Jethro toppled to the floor in a heap.

  “How did you know I was the real one?” Jethro pointed to the figure at his feet. “That could easily have been me.”

  “He looked like you, he even sounded like you. But he couldn’t do pissed off and sarcastic the way you can.”

  Iago groaned and then promptly disappeared. “For God’s sake, what next?” Cal asked. “Even Niniane wasn’t this slippery.”

  “Over there. That’s what.” Jethro pointed.

  A huge falcon, Cal’s own animal familiar, appeared on the step just inside the cottage. Spreading its wings wide, it cocked its head jauntily, as though mocking them, before taking flight. They watched it soar off into the blue sky, where it circled the village once in a defiant gesture.

  Lorcan turned to Cal. “Will he go after Stella?”

  “He might try, but she’s not at the palace. I didn’t want to leave her there without me, so I sent her away. He won’t be able to get at her.” Cal studied the sky again, watching as the falcon became a distant speck before disappearing. “Not this time. But something tells me we haven’t seen the last of Iago.”

  * * *

  Dusk had fallen when they finally sat around the open fire on the village green, eating Ailie’s delicious stew and drinking her home-brewed beer. Moncoya was securely locked up in one of the empty cottages, and the plan was for Cal and Jethro to take him back to be imprisoned in his own palace dungeons on the following morning. There he would stand trial for his crimes and, if found guilty, he would be executed.

  “I will arrange for Ronab’s funeral to take place here in the village burial ground.” Lorcan shook his head. “It’s hit Raimo hard. They were inseparable. He’ll find it difficult to commit as many crimes on his own.”

  Tanzi decided it was time to bring up the topic they were all avoiding. “What will you do about King Ivo’s heir?” she asked Cal.

  He threw her a grateful glance. “Now I know he exists, I can’t just ignore him. As the leader of the Alliance, I have to take that information back to the council members. I think we should make a push to find him. He may be the very person we need to restore peace to the faerie dynasty and, at the same time, to Otherworld.”

  With a furious sound, Vashti threw her plate down on the grass and stomped off into the lowering darkness. “It is harder for her to visualize the end of Moncoya’s reign,” Tanzi explained. “She has not been directly on the receiving end of my father’s villainy as I have. I know from experience she is best left alone in this mood.”

  “We still have the problem of how to find the challenger,” Lorcan said.

  “The Norn said you already know who the true heir is,” Tanzi reminded him.

  “But I don’t.” Lorcan ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. “I swear it. If I knew who he was, I would tell Cal. I learned nothing of him on my journey.”

  “Yet the Norn cannot lie.”

  “No, they can only bloody interfere.” Lorcan’s mouth thinned to a hard line and he slid his arm around Tanzi’s shoulders, drawing her close. “When I think how close I came to losing you because of them, Searc.”

  “Yes, they are good at meddling.” Cal nodded his agreement. “Nevertheless, because of them, we are slightly closer to the true heir. If we accept that the Norn must be telling the truth, then it has to be someone known to Lorcan.”

  “Could be anyone.” Lorcan shrugged. “Although there is something else. I almost forgot. Ailie told me he doesn’t look like a sidhe.”

  “Great.” Jethro started to laugh. “How old are you, Lorcan? We just have to get you to remember everyone you’ve ever met over the centuries and eliminate those who look like sidhes. Anyone who is left is a possibility.”

  “The Norn said the truth would be found on Avalon,” Tanzi said.

  “Oh, yes. I was forgetting. The most dangerous place in either world.” Cal’s voice took on a reminiscent note. “Home to Morgan le Fay and, if he’s telling the truth, our delightful new acquaintance, Iago the Trickster. I won’t be going back there in a hurry.”

  Lorcan held up his hands in a warding-off gesture. “Don’t look at me either.”

  Jethro grinned. “What you guys need is a mercenary. A powerful sorcerer who’s seen what Iago can do and isn’t afraid to stand up to him. Now, where will you get yourselves one of those, I wonder?”

  Cal laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll put it to the council. In the meantime, after all this excitement, I need a good night’s sleep.”

  Cal and Jethro made their way to the guest cottage Ailie had made ready for them. Lorcan rose to his feet, reaching down a hand to help Tanzi up from the grass. He held her against him for a moment, resting his cheek on her hair.

  “I don’t know where to start.”

  She tilted her head so that she could look at him. “You got it wrong.”

  “I know—”

  She silenced him by placing her finger on his lips. “I got it wrong, too. We don’t need to analyze it.” She stood on the tips of her toes so that she could replace her finger with her mouth, kissing him long and hard. “Let’s try not to do it again. Now, tell me how much you love me.”

  His laugh was shaky. “That could take some time.”

  “We’ve got forever.”

  “That’s just it. Before you, I had forever and it meant nothing. All those empty years, but I wasn’t really living them. You’ve shown me what it is to be alive, Tanzi. Other people would have looked at me and said I was happy. Although I put on a good act, I was dead inside. You’ve taught me how to smile, what to say, how to love. I found my heart again because of you.” His eyes were earnest as they searched her face. “I’m just scared all I have won’t be enough for you.”

  Sharp tears prickled the backs of her eyelids. “Until I met you, I was a china doll, caught up in a world where all that mattered were looks and status. I didn’t know how to feel even the simplest emotions. Now I have my love for you, and that means more than any material belongings. When you say my name, when you take my hand, when you hold me close at night...those are my precious possessions. Our future together, this child we have made...that is my silver and gold. All I want is you.” She took his hand. “Now take me home.”
/>   CHAPTER 22

  Vashti sighed. It was no good. She couldn’t sleep, and it wasn’t just because the mattress was hard and a quarter of the size of her own bed at home in the faerie palace. No, it was the thought of her father locked up like a common criminal just yards away.

  She accepted now that the stories about him must be true. Even if she hadn’t heard the accounts of his war crimes and atrocities against the faeries who opposed him, what he’d attempted to do to Tanzi proved beyond doubt he was a monster. But he’s my monster. Can I let him go to his trial, probably to be executed, without at least hearing what he has to say? She decided not. Throwing aside the blankets covering her legs, she slid from the bed and hurriedly threw on her clothes. Aware that Jethro and Cal were sleeping in the next room, Vashti tiptoed carefully past their door and out into the inky darkness of the Spae night.

  Tripping and stumbling over boulders and tree roots, she made her way to the isolated cottage where they had imprisoned Moncoya earlier that night. Aware that Raimo was guarding the front of the building, Vashti made her way around to the rear of the property. The wooden shutters over the window could be unlatched from the outside. Holding her breath in case the slightest noise alerted the imp guard, she found the window itself was easily pried open. Was Tanzi really considering coming to live in such a primitive society? The thought of her sister, feted and admired Princess Tanzi of the designer clothes and celebrity lifestyle, living in this backwater made Vashti choke back a derisive laugh. Love! They said it made you blind. She hadn’t realized until now that it also rendered you stupid.

  “My father?” Vashti whispered the words as she wriggled through the window and then dropped into a crouch in the darkened room on the other side. Had Cal posted a guard inside the cottage, as well? She could take out the imp or one of the Spae with a single punch. Jethro or Lorcan might be more of a problem. Either way, brawling with her father’s captors in the middle of the night wouldn’t look good. Remembering she was the faerie representative on the Alliance could be such an inconvenience at times.