Storm's Heart

by Thea Harrison

  She saw Durin flinch out of the corner of her eye. Was that a weakness she could exploit? Warmth slid along the skin of her hands, and she realized she had rubbed her wrists raw. Good thing she couldn’t feel it very well. Maybe the blood soaking into the leather would help stretch it out. Okay, so that was a long shot, but she had no choice but to give it a try. She tucked her chin against her chest and kept twisting.

  “The only two people we need to stop are you and your filthy animal,” Naida said.

  Filthy animal. She tucked her chin in further and gave serious thought to some head-butting action. Apparently they didn’t want her dead right away. One really good crack, and she could break Naida’s patrician nose.

  Naida continued. “If we kill the both of you, there is no succession to protect. Aubrey is the only real choice for the throne. He has cared for the Dark Fae people and worked on our behalf for far longer than you and I have been alive. His wisdom and experience in governance is unparalleled. The Elder tribunal will come to see his ascension as inevitable. And the Wyr have no right to stay in Dark Fae land, especially since your animal has cut all official ties with the Wyr Lord. They will have to leave. I doubt the Wyrkind will be interested in an alliance with us after this, but I am not concerned about that. The Dark Fae have done well enough without a Wyr alliance for the last two hundred years. We will succeed, especially when we place the right Commander at the head of the Dark Fae army.”

  The right Commander. Gotcha.

  “Greater good, my ass,” she growled. “Durin murdered Arethusa so he could become Commander, and if Aubrey becomes Dark Fae King, you get to rule by his side, which is all that matters to you, you psychotic bitch.”

  Naida opened the pack. She said with edged calm, “You talk like the trash you have become. Speaking of tools, you know, exploring Urien’s house gave me a fruitful education and some unexpected opportunities.”

  “If you’re referring to Urien’s fake company, we already know about it,” Niniane said.

  “That tool is no longer useful. I refer to more than just that.” She reached into the pack and pulled out two sets of black chains with manacles. They radiated a kind of Power that raised Niniane’s hackles.

  “What the hell are those?” she whispered.

  “Urien made them,” Naida said. “He was such an expert metallurgist, and so gifted with Power. He was one of the most accomplished of us, and his notes on his research were meticulous.”

  “You’ve got to be joking,” she said. “He was a treasonous mass-murdering, self-serving, Power-hungry bastard.”

  Naida sighed. “Oh, get over it.” The Dark Fae woman regarded the manacles. Her gray eyes gleamed with admiration. “He designed these specifically to imprison Wyr. Apparently they worked so well they shackled the Great Beast himself. According to Urien’s notes, even though the Beast freed himself, he was not able to break these bindings.”

  Oh shit. Niniane’s breath hitched and she grew still. She had heard of those shackles. They had been used when Urien had had Dragos and Pia kidnapped and imprisoned in the Goblin stronghold. They had blocked Dragos’s ability to shapeshift into his dragon form. Dragos had been able to gain his freedom only after finding the key to the shackles. Preoccupied with getting to Pia as fast as he could, he had lost the shackles and had been obsessed with trying to find them ever since.

  A frigid gale-force wind howled through the trees, blasting into the clearing, and the bright sunlit autumn morning disintegrated as black clouds churned across the sky. Durin swore under his breath, and Naida looked up, her face blank with astonishment, as a massive bolt of lightning ripped the heavens. Thunder exploded.

  Niniane didn’t give herself time to think. She took a step forward, lifted a leg and slammed the heel of her boot into Naida’s face as hard as she could.

  Bone crunched. Blood spurted from Naida’s nose as her head snapped back.

  Durin lunged to grab her, but she knew she had no hope of getting away. She was only interested in inflicting as much damage as she could. Durin missed as she let herself fall back on the ground. Agony shot through her shoulders as she landed on her bound arms. She ignored it, rolled toward him and sent the most vicious kick she could muster to the side of his knee.

  Durin hissed in pain and toppled sideways to the ground.

  Holy cow. She actually managed to get in two good, solid hits in a row. The sentinels were going to be high-fiving each other at her funeral.

  She rolled desperately, throwing all her strength into trying to get some distance between herself and the other two. Hey, miracles happened all the time. You never know, she might make it. She might—

  An iron-hard grip clamped on to her ankle. Gasping hard for air, she flipped on her back again and tried to kick at whoever held her, but Durin pushed forward onto her legs, and though she screamed in rage and bucked and kicked as hard as she could, she could not dislodge him.

  That was when the monster walked into the clearing. He moved with a speed that was shocking for one of his massive build. He carried a sword in each talon-tipped hand, and his teeth were too long and sharp. His eyes blazed white like twin stars, and oh gods, she loved him so much, and she knew why they had kept her alive for so long, because she was both bait and leverage, literally all they had to use against the onslaught of this nightmare.

  Durin sank a fist into her hair and yanked her up until she was on her knees. He jerked her head back, and Naida moved up beside her to put the knife at her throat.

  Naida said, “Stop.”

  The monster’s blazing eyes fixed on Niniane. He stopped.

  “Drop your weapons.” Naida sounded ragged.

  No no no.

  His hands opened. The swords fell to the ground.

  Vaguely she was aware of other people racing into the clearing, and something lethal and winged soaring over the trees. A harpy’s enraged shriek sounded in the air overhead. Somewhere close, Rune swore and ordered people to stay back. None of them mattered. The world had narrowed to just her and Tiago, Durin and Naida, and the knife at her throat.

  Durin bent, grabbed the shackles and threw them. They landed at the monster’s feet. “Put those on,” he said. “Run the chain behind your back.”

  The monster did not move.

  Naida pressed the knife harder against the thin skin of her neck. Another sting, another small wound and warm trickle of blood. Naida said, “She is one slice away from death. Do it.”

  “No,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

  The monster held her gaze as he bent to pick up the shackles.

  Durin and Naida meant to kill Tiago as soon as he put them on. She would throw herself on the knife if she could. Maybe they had not gone too far on mating. Maybe he would have a chance to survive if she did. Maybe—she strained forward, but Durin’s tight fist in her hair was rock-steady.

  Tiago snapped one manacle into place on one thick wrist, ran the chain behind his back, and snapped the second manacle on his other wrist.

  “My gods,” Aubrey said from across the clearing. He sounded profoundly shaken. “My gods—Naida, what have you done?”

  “As soon as we heard Urien had been killed, people started whispering,” Naida said. “You were going to be King. Didn’t you hear them? Everyone said there couldn’t be anyone better, and there was no one left with closer ties to the throne. Then she appeared, and she had become nothing more than a plastic Americanized whore who had been in bed with the Wyr all these years—”

  The monster growled, his face naked with hate.

  Aubrey shouted, “She is your rightful Queen!”

  “She is not Queen yet!” Naida shouted back. “Why can you not see—when she and her animal are put down, there will be nothing to stop people from supporting you again—”

  Naida pressed the knife harder into Niniane’s neck.

  The monster bared his teeth and plunged forward.

  Naida said to Durin, “Kill him.”

  Durin’s grip in her h
air loosened. She tried again to throw herself on the knife, but Naida shifted to take Durin’s place, holding her jaw in a bruising grip and forcing her head back. Durin strode forward, and time fell its inevitable fall, both backward and forward, toward that jagged place where everything shattered into pieces forever, and she screamed out her heart as the Dark Fae male impaled Tiago on his sword—oh god mother—

  And Niniane stared as Tiago thrust himself farther onto that murderous sword, all the way to the hilt, his powerful body the most real and dangerous weapon, as he snaked his head forward, and with one wicked-fast snap of his teeth he tore out Durin’s throat.

  Blood sprayed across Tiago’s face. It poured in a river from the sword in his abdomen. Tiago spat out flesh as Durin’s body collapsed to the ground. The twin blazing stars that were Tiago’s eyes fixed on her again. His face was slick and red. He went down on one knee.

  “My gods, he’s an abomination.” Naida’s breathing sounded in her ear, as harsh and ragged as her own.

  She said between her teeth, “I told you this was not going to go the way you thought it would.”

  His head bowed. He sagged forward. Tiago.

  Behind them, Cameron said in a hard, cold voice, “Drop the knife, Naida.”

  Cameron sounded so confident and her words seemed so misplaced, Naida actually twisted around with Niniane to look. Niniane tried to turn her head to keep her eyes on Tiago, but Naida’s hand was clenched so tight on her jaw she couldn’t move.

  Cameron stood ten feet away. One side of her face had already blackened from Durin’s blow. She had both of Niniane’s derringers, the gun in one hand pointed to the ground. She held the other gun aimed at Naida’s head.

  “Do you think I would give up my only leverage now, especially for such a stupid and ignorant bluff as this?” Naida said. “Your weapons technology does not work here, human.” She said to Niniane, “Get up. We will have to make for Adriyel, you and I, and then we will see what Urien’s old supporters think of you—”

  Naida started upright. Niniane didn’t move. She didn’t know if it was a smart thing to do or not. She simply could not leave Tiago.

  Naida screamed in her ear, “Get up right now, or I will gut you in front of everyone!”

  “Risk and benefit, huh,” Cameron said with a grim smile. She pulled the trigger.

  The gun exploded.

  There was too much blood, of course.

  The beast kept his face turned toward his mate as he fell to the ground. He kept his face turned toward her even though a haze came over his sight and blanked out the farthest reaches of the clearing so that he could no longer see her.

  Someone with a tawny head bent over him. He almost lunged upward to tear out this one’s throat too, but the tawny-haired one had a scent that was long familiar, and so the beast held back to watch and wait.

  “Goddamn, T-bird, look at what you’ve done to yourself this time,” said the familiar one. He took hold of the sword’s hilt and pulled it out. The beast hissed at the liquid burning slide as the blade left his flesh. The tawny male tore off his shirt and pressed the wadded material against the beast’s wound, and shouted, “ARYAL. Why isn’t he starting to heal? Here, put pressure here.”

  Another familiar one knelt beside him, her eyes blazing with fear and fury, but it wasn’t his mate. “Got it.”

  Then his mate was there, his beautiful, precious mate. His world had burst out of his chest when he had returned to the tent to find she had gone missing. Now she brought it back to him, and it was such a blessed relief to see and smell her—but she had bled from her wrists and neck—he snarled as he caught the fresh scent of her blood and struggled to rise up and slaughter the ones who had done this to her—

  “Somebody cut me loose,” his mate said. “Oh gods, Tiago, stay down.”

  He subsided and sighed as she bent close to press her cheek to his. “Only one person,” he whispered to her. “Only one thing.”

  “I can’t lose you,” she said. Rune cut her hands free, and she wiped the blood off Tiago’s face. She pressed her lips against his. She was trembling. “You have to fight for us. Fight as hard as you can, do you hear me? Hold on.”

  Always.

  “He’s talking to her but he hasn’t come out of the partial shift, and he’s still bleeding out,” said Aryal between her teeth. “What the hell is wrong? We’re going to lose him unless someone figures out what to do right now.”

  “It’s the shackles,” his mate said suddenly. “Urien made them to imprison Wyr—they suppress a Wyr’s Power. These are the ones that held Dragos and we need the key—” She pushed to her feet and raced away, and his world grew dim again. “It isn’t in her pack!”

  His mate raced back. She fell to her knees beside his head. She was crying.

  Rune surged to his feet. “Help him, Carling!”

  That was when he saw the other woman who stood nearby. She regarded the scene with an expression of mild curiosity, her gaze vague and unfocused. “That is not within my purview as Councillor of the Elder tribunal.”

  Rune grabbed Carling and shook her. She bowed backward under the pressure of his hands. He roared in her face. “What the hell’s the matter with you? Snap out of it.”

  The Vampyre’s gaze clicked into focus. She cocked her head and looked over the scene as if she had never seen it before. Her long almond-shaped eyes blazed with Power. She said to Rune, “If I do this, you will owe me. Not Dragos, not Tiago or Niniane. You. You will come to me in one week after we leave Adriyel, and you will do a favor of my choosing. Do you agree?”

  “Yes,” Rune hissed. “Just fucking do it.”

  Carling walked to Tiago. She bent over him with a Mona Lisa smile. “I’m told this might hurt a little.”

  He closed his eyes in resignation. Crazy-assed bitch.

  TWENTY

  Carling placed her hands on Tiago and spoke foreign words filled with Power. Niniane sagged in relief as she held his head.

  There was a flurry of activity around Cameron and Naida’s prone figures. Both women had fallen when the derringer exploded. Niniane couldn’t think about that right now. She didn’t care if Rune had to bargain for Carling’s cooperation. She was only grateful that Carling was helping now and everything would be all right. It had to be.

  Carling frowned, her gaze sharp. “The spell didn’t take.” Niniane’s head came up. Her gaze searched the strong, quiet features framed between her fingers. “Tiago?”

  He remained silent.

  “He’s gone unconscious.” Panic took her over. She switched to telepathy and screamed at him, DON’T YOU DIE ON ME!

  He did not respond. She hit the jagged rocks and shattered.

  The others were all speaking at once.

  “What the hell use are you, anyway?” The vicious question came from Aryal and was directed at Carling.

  Rune growled, “Cast it again. Make it happen now.”

  Carling ignored the two sentinels, her face intense with concentration. She spoke other foreign words that were so filled with Power, their vibration thrummed in Niniane’s body. Then the Vampyre sat back on her heels. She wiped her face with the back of one hand. “I caught him in time. I have put him in stasis for now.”

  Niniane gritted, “What’s wrong?”

  “His injury requires a healing spell that must act along certain shapeshifting principles. His torn arteries and organs must knit together in order to stop the hemorrhaging. Normally the Wyr are particularly adept at healing injuries. It is part of their inherent ability to shapeshift. I think the Power in the shackles is blocking the spell.” Carling’s gaze met hers. “He stands at the threshold. If we do not find a way to remove those shackles, he will die.”

  Niniane didn’t recognize her own voice. “You’re not going to let that happen to him.”

  “I will hold him as long as I can.” Carling regarded Tiago’s still face as if he were a cipher she could not read. “But part of that is up to him. If his spirit chooses to l
et go and slip away, there is nothing I can do.”

  Tiago’s face disappeared in a watery shimmer. She wiped her cheek on her shoulder. “He said he’d fight,” she whispered. “He’ll fight.”

  Rune and Aryal crouched, looking at each other. “Niniane checked Naida’s pack,” Rune said. “She didn’t check Naida or Durin.”

  The two sentinels sprang away. Rune landed by Durin’s body while Aryal launched at Naida’s prone form.

  You swore you would not leave me, Niniane said to Tiago. You made me believe in you. You made me love you. Promises are all well and good, mister. Now it’s time for you to make good on them. I can’t—I can’t take it if you don’t.

  Aryal gave a sharp, triumphant hawk’s cry. The harpy leaped to her feet, sprinted to Tiago and skidded on her knees as she landed beside him. Her long hands blurred as she unlocked the shackles. Then Rune rejoined them, and they all worked to ease the shackles out from underneath Tiago’s body. “Take those away,” Carling ordered.

  Aryal’s stormy gaze flashed up to meet Niniane’s for the barest instant. Then Aryal whirled from them, the shackles gripped in one hand, and she was gone.

  Carling said, “I have to remove him from stasis and then cast the healing spell. If you believe the gods take an interest in our lives, now would be a good time to pray.”

  Oh gods, please. Please. She threw the full force of her panic into the prayer. Then she pressed her lips to Tiago’s forehead and said to him, Tiago, you must stay with me.

  Carling spoke even more rapidly than before. The lowvoiced Power-filled words made the world shiver, made Niniane’s bones vibrate, made Tiago’s body blaze with golden light. His back arched and he gasped as his face contorted in agony. Niniane wrapped her arms around him, cradling his head. He turned to bury his face against her breast as his talon-tipped hands dug into the ground.

  She remembered the agony of her own healing. Her wound had been so much smaller than his. She suffered with him until gradually the tension eased from his body, and at last he rested against her, his face and body smoothing into their normal lines.