Old Dog, New Tricks

by Hailey Edwards

  I leaned my head against his shoulder, smiling when he stiffened. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

  Before Mac figured out where his hands went to make a hug work, I chickened out and shifted my weight, straightening before he got an arm around me. Awkward as heck, but it had felt right for a second, until we each had a chance to think about what we were doing instead of going with it.

  Ignoring his hurt expression, I mentally added this newest item to my to-do list.

  Sever the tethers. Annul my marriage to Rook. Rescue Shaw. Get the heck back home.

  An odd feeling bubbled up in me. Relief maybe. Shaw and I had been willing to ignore my wayward husband and move on with our lives. The fact Shaw had claimed me first meant, to us, that Rook’s marriage scheme was just that—verbal acrobatics—and he stuck one hell of a tricky landing.

  At the time, yeah, I was grateful. I wanted to live, and playing along with Rook meant I not only lived, but I got to go home. Now our circumstances had changed. I wasn’t the Unseelie princess, and I wouldn’t become queen, either. I was of no value to Rook, and he of no value to the Morrigan.

  We were square as far as I was concerned, pending the dissolution of our marriage.

  I retreated to the living room, and Mac did the same, pulling the door almost shut behind him.

  Feeling my internal clock ticking, I pressed, “Why do you think he’s here?”

  Mac shrugged. “Either he’s a spy, or he had nowhere else to go.”

  “With the Morrigan ruling Winter, he may not be able to return home.” It begged the question... “How long do you think he’s been hiding out here? His wounds look recent, but they don’t smell fresh.”

  “I would guess no more than a day or so for him to be half-starved and not acted on it yet.”

  I set my hands on my hips. “You’re thinking he got himself trapped in here.”

  Thanks to the hounds, the cupboards were bare. He might not have expected that.

  Mac nodded. “The Aves would have told the Morrigan he was here, if she didn’t already know.”

  “And if he has fallen out of favor with her—and was injured—he made an easy target.”

  “I doubt even they would have been brave enough to peck her son to death.” He shifted his weight. “But I understand if he wasn’t brave enough to risk the woods in his condition to learn if that was the case.”

  I snickered at the thinly veiled insult. Very thin. Like tissue paper.

  “Once he regains consciousness,” Mac soothed, “we will find out what he knows.”

  My foot started tapping. “It will take a while for Sleeping Beauty to catch forty winks.”

  Mac started toward the Hall of Many Doors, grasped the handle, and a soft pulse of magic lit the room. Holding the door open for me, he smiled. “I have an idea of what we can do in the meantime.”

  A burst of adrenaline sent me scooting under his arm. “Where are we headed?”

  “To Spring.”

  I rubbed my hands together. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Chapter Ten

  Three hours later, I slumped in a wingback chair in Mac’s office with my right leg propped on a matching floral footstool and a light-as-air cushion spelled with ice magic balanced on my kneecap. Cold muted the pain and the sip of brandy Mac offered took the edge off, allowing me to sit and rest.

  Spring had kicked my butt. That season’s primary tether was deactivated, but it had cost me torn ligaments.

  Head tilted back, I stared up at Mac through blurry eyes. “So that’s where you got the fur.”

  We had been ambushed by four saber-toothed cats the second our feet touched the ground.

  Mac could hop right back into the tether and ride it to his den. Me? Not so much. The first time I used a tether in the Hall of Many Doors by accident, I found myself standing alone in Spring with no clue as to how I got there or how to go back. The doorway I had walked through vanished, and there was no door back. Without a physical object anchoring the tether, I was stuck unless Mac guided me.

  And stuck had almost gotten me killed when the tigers decided we smelled tasty.

  “Yes.” He paused in his search for a charm of some kind. “Saber-toothed tigers in Faerie behave more like lions than tigers. The pride denning in Spring prefers the swampy area around the tether for raising their young. One of the older males became too weak to hunt for himself, and the younger males prevented the females from providing for him. Out of desperation, he snatched someone out of the tether and ate them. I was sent to put him down. He was such a beautiful animal, I kept his pelt.”

  I clapped my hands. “And thus the legend of Diode was born.”

  A dark flush rising in his cheeks, he cleared his throat. “How is the pain?”

  “Fine.” I gave my knee a test wiggle. “Another hour and I ought to be able to walk on it.”

  He bobbed his head, half-listening while searching drawers in the bureau by the door.

  “Ah,” he said at last. “Here we are.”

  He walked the tarnished amulet to me and placed the silver disc on my open palm. Flat and cool, it hung from a matching chain that coiled in my lap. I ran my thumb across the pale blue stone set in the center. Lilac veins flashed like lightning across the strange gem. I had never seen anything like it.

  It also reeked of magic...and Mac.

  I turned it over to examine the back. “What does it do?”

  “It’s a homing beacon I designed for myself when I was first learning to create and navigate the tethers. It requires a drop of blood to attune the spell to you, but it’s better than a compass for getting you where you want to go.” He leaned over me and adjusted my grip so my fingers eased into grooves on the sides of the circular amulet. “Grip it like this and speak the name of the place you want to go.”

  The ability to operate the tethers without knowing individual coordinates would help big time.

  He stuck out his hand, ready to invoke the charm now. I tucked my fingers under my armpits and wiggled back in the chair. “Do me a favor. Wait until we tackle the next tether to attune the amulet?”

  Laughing under his breath, he changed course and slid one hand under the back of my knees.

  “Hey,” I yelped. “What are you doing?”

  “I hear my guest bumping around.” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “I thought you would want to speak with him as soon as possible.” He snaked his other arm behind my shoulders and lifted me. “If you would stop squirming, I could get you into the living room. Or do you want to wait in here until you’re healed enough to manage the walk on your own? We both know this is no time for risks.”

  “Fine,” I grumbled, snagging the icy cushion before it fell.

  Being carried like a small child in Mac’s arms blackened my mood. He was right. I wanted to speak to Rook—the faster the better—and couldn’t afford to reinjure myself. By the time I put the screws to Rook, maybe we would have our first lead in finding and taking down the Morrigan.

  After settling me on a wooden chair in need of a cushion and elevating my leg by propping it on a low bookshelf, Mac went in search of his guest. Sniffing the air, he skirted the bedroom and hit the kitchen. Murmured conversation drifted to me, too low to hear, and then they entered together.

  Gone was Rook’s hip-length hair. Chunks of it were shaved to the scalp and others were missing altogether. His usually grayish complexion—healthy for an Unseelie—had turned bone white. Thick, pink scars marred his handsome face. During the hunt, he recovered from a broken arm within hours. Those raised marks should have healed smoothly. Whoever had done this had marked him on purpose so he would not soon forget his punishment. This cruelty smacked of his Mommy Dearest, and I shivered.

  My parents had issues, yeah, but this? His mother was whack-a-doodle.

  I crossed my hands over my middle. “Sleep well?”

  Rook ran a hand over his scalp, and clumps of hair came away in his fingers.

  “I apologize for trespassing
.” His head lowered. “I had nowhere else to go.”

  “Were you expecting us?” As in, had his mother sent him to spy on us?

  “No.” He shook his head. “Last I heard, Macsen was still missing. That’s why I thought I would be safe here. Thierry...” he shoved his hands in his pockets, “...I never thought I would see you again.”

  Unwilling to let myself soften, I snarled, “The Morrigan took Shaw.”

  “I know.” Rook’s head hung lower. “I saw him.”

  My heart beat hard once, and I wet my lips. “Where?”

  “In my home,” he admitted. “She kicked me out and put Bháin in charge of him.”

  A fraction of the tension left my shoulders. “That’s a good thing.”

  “Thierry...” he began, eyes finding mine. “Bháin is a servant of Winter.”

  I rolled my hand to encourage an explanation.

  “His people are only as kind as our current ruler demands they be.” A frown twisted down his lips. “It makes them unpredictable and impossible to control. That’s why Unseelie employ them—as a badge of honor—like breaking a wild horse and then riding it through the streets for all to admire.”

  The vise around my heart clamped tight. “He was good to Mom.”

  “King Moran was a good man,” he admitted with a hint of reluctance. “My mother...”

  “You broke Bháin. You’re here, comparing him to an animal. Of course he’s going to buck the system given half a chance.” Fear lent me strength. “Will he hurt Shaw? Why does your mother want him? Leverage? Give me something.”

  “Bháin will do whatever my mother asks him to without qualm.” Rook broke eye contact. “I doubt she’ll have anything permanent done to Shaw, not until she has a chance to speak with you, to bargain with you.”

  “Permanent.” I shoved onto my feet, wincing when my weight hit my tender knee. “If Bháin touches him, I will kill him. We’ve come too far for this—”

  Mac skirted Rook, got between us and pushed until I toppled backward into the chair.

  “Sit,” he ordered. “If you blow out your knee again, that’s another hour wasted.”

  Snarling under my breath, I shifted to get comfortable.

  “No one survives Faerie without making contingency plans. The front door to his home isn’t the only way inside.” Mac angled himself to keep an eye on Rook. “There are others. He didn’t use them because he knows his servant would kill him. Servants of Winter are proud people. Given the chance, broken or not, he could best a half-blood.” Rook stiffened until Mac added, “That is not a slur, but a fact.”

  This explained a lot. Bháin was kind to my mother and polite to me, but he clearly hated Rook.

  I understand completely.

  “Is he right?” I pressed. “Can you get us into your home?”

  After a short hesitation, Rook answered, “Yes.”

  Unconvinced, I rubbed my shin. “Will Bháin be a problem?”

  “Once I’m back inside,” Rook promised darkly, “Bháin will fall in line.”

  “Good.” I gave Mac a weighted look then turned to Rook. “You hungry? Thirsty? Need to pee?”

  The last option pinked his pale cheeks. “No.”

  “Grab what you need to entertain yourself and get back in bed.” I flicked my hand. “Go on.”

  Moving stiffly, Rook gathered three of the gnawed-on books from the floor and twisted them to show Mac the titles, asking permission to read them. Once Mac gave the okay, Rook scuffled his way back into Mac’s bedroom. He pulled the door flush, but didn’t close it, so Mac did it for him.

  Mac quirked his eyebrows. “Don’t trust him?”

  I scoffed. “About as much as I would trust one of those tigers with a baby púca.”

  Sudden pressure built in my ears, popping them. He had invoked another charm.

  He scooped up and pocketed the broken remains. “This will give us some privacy.”

  I dropped my head into my hands. “This is too easy, too convenient, isn’t it?”

  “I had the same thought.”

  I peeked through my fingers at him. “No one is stopping us from severing the tethers. The Aves gave us a hard time, but the Morrigan could have sent worse. The tigers, well, you said yourself they often den near the tether because they like the swamp. We’ve been hassled, but not hurt. Not really.”

  Mac leaned a shoulder against the wall, his gaze tagging the door to his bedroom.

  “Yeah, then there’s that. He shows up on your doorstep of all places within a day of our arrival? He was tossed out on his can, but he happens to know where Shaw is and who is in charge of him? It doesn’t ring true to me. Plus the fact he’s the only one who can get us in? No. I don’t like this at all.”

  A thoughtful expression crossed his face. “We must observe him and see what he does.”

  “He claimed Branwen was the reason he played nice with his mother. Do you think telling him I found her would win him to our side? Or—” this was more probable, “—do you think he was lying?”

  “His involvement might have started as a means of finding a beloved sister, but he’s moved past such innocent beginnings now. A taste of power leaves one hungry for more, and Rook is starving. A half-blood surviving in fae society for as long as he has is unheard of. Faerie shreds their humanity.”

  The hard edge in his voice woke my curiosity. “Is that why you didn’t bring me here?”

  “Yes.” His tone gentled. “I wanted you raised among humans, and your mother wanted you raised without my interference, limited though any visitation with me could have been. She and I struck a fitting compromise. I hoped you would soak up humanity’s kindness and wonder, their compassion. I wanted you to be true to yourself, to learn who you are and what you value, not conform to what this place would have made of you.”

  Compromise? The old me would have pointed out Mom didn’t care what Mac wanted. He had left us, and even though she had forgiven him, she had done what she herself thought best for me. But he was kind of growing on me, and it was sort of cute he thought his opinion on my upbringing carried weight with Mom where I was concerned. We might have had our differences, but she was one hundred percent ferocious momma bear when it came to her offspring. Love affair aside, Mac wasn’t her baby. I was.

  Still, I womaned up and admitted, “I do wish I had gotten to know you sooner.”

  Mac’s eyes shone, and he sat up straighter. “That means a lot coming from you.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head,” I groused. “I’m still a momma’s girl at heart.”

  “As long as you have room in there for me,” he said softly.

  Heat creeping into my cheeks, I changed the subject before it got too touchy-feely in here.

  “Rook must know what we’re doing.” I removed the icy cushion. “He hasn’t tried to stop us.”

  Mac caught the cushion when I tossed it to him. “We haven’t given him the opportunity.”

  Testing my knee, I found it held my weight with barely a twinge. With one last glance at Mac’s bedroom door, I headed for the Hall of Many Doors, ready to go again. “Let’s make sure we don’t.”

  Mac and I didn’t give Rook a heads-up before we ditched him, slipping back into Spring before night fell to finish the job of disconnecting its secondary tether. The lack of tigers was welcome. So was the lack of, well, everything else. The second tether was the one Rook had used to bring me here the first time, and I felt a twinge when the ornate arbor collapsed without its magical supports. But it had to go. With that done, we were left with three working tethers...and no sign yet of the Morrigan.

  A burst of inspiration led us to make a pit stop at the remaining Autumn tether where Mac warded the ground to prevent anyone from using it until we returned. Once fae started catching on to our demolition streak, they would start checking each tether until they found an active one. Most couldn’t operate them, and Mac would know instantly if anyone tried, but why take chances? Better to lock them away f
rom the escape hatch than risk having to hunt them down in the mortal realm later.

  Back at Mac’s den, we tucked into a hearty meal Rook had prepared with supplies Mac had brought into the kitchen before we left. Rare as company was for Mac, he didn’t own a dining table or chairs, so we made ourselves comfortable in the open living room while the chef fumed at being left behind and gnashed his teeth when Mac performed a spell to check the food for poisons and drugging herbs.

  I found it hilarious. What did he expect? That Mac and I would trust him? Where Rook and food were concerned, I had zero faith in any good intentions. I would have refused the meal altogether if I weren’t already hitched to the feather duster and reasonably sure that he wasn’t after Mac for a triad.

  Shudder.

  “You never said why you’re here,” Rook said around a piece of meat.

  No clue what it was, and yeah, no intentions of asking either.

  “You didn’t ask,” I demurred.

  He lowered his fork. “I just did.”

  I stabbed a hunk of chickenlike meat. “Can’t a girl want to visit her father?”

  “I thought you hated your father.” His gaze zinged to Mac. “No offense.”

  Mac chewed thoughtfully on a potato in answer.

  Enjoying needling him, I shrugged. “We have issues, but who doesn’t?”

  “Last I heard no one knew where you were.” Rook studied Mac. “Are you back?”

  “I seem to be.” Mac stood with a smirk and carried his empty plate to the kitchen.

  Conversation over.

  “I heard you talking about tigers earlier.” Watching Mac leave, Rook balanced his plate on his knee and reached for a cup of water on the floor. “Where is yours? I haven’t seen Diode since you arrived. Shouldn’t he be with you?” He sipped and smiled at me. “Or has he left now that Macsen is back?”

  I took another bite to buy me a minute to decide what to tell him. “We left Diode behind.”

  Folded in a box in my closet after Mac wisely decided to retire the skin.

  “We?” he echoed. “Behind where?”

  “Thanks for dinner.” I stood and gathered my dishes. “It was nice.”