Magic Unchained n-7

by Jessica Andersen

  Oh, hell. “How long have they been at it?”

  “Half hour, maybe.” Carlos gestured with the breakfast tray, which smelled of grease and salt, and for a human would’ve been a heart attack special. “You want this in here?”

  “I’ll get dressed and come out.” And eat fast. He didn’t like the idea of Dez and Cara closeted away together, not because he was afraid of what she would say about the two of them, but because he was afraid of what she would say about everything else. She was too brave for her own good, and so determined to prove that the winikin deserved to be independent that she lost track that they were vulnerable in ways the Nightkeepers simply weren’t. And that scared the crap out of him.

  He was out of bed in an instant, and three minutes later shrugged on a faded green T-shirt to go with his jeans and boots as he walked into the kitchen, where Carlos had laid out the goods on the breakfast bar. Sven couldn’t quite place the winikin’s expression; he wasn’t sure if there was a new disturbance in the force there, or if it was a continuation of the same distance they had been dealing with for years.

  As he started shoveling calories on board, he asked around a mouthful, “How much do you know about what happened last night?”

  Turning on the hot water to suds up in the sink for washing—which for him was a kind of therapy—the winikin leaned back against the counter, eyes sharpening. “Nothing, really. I was out back at the library helping Jade and Lucius with deciphering Anna’s latest prophecy and tracking down some lead on a cave in the middle of nowhere, Guatemala. I spent the night, caught a nap here and there, and worked straight through. I’d barely put a foot back in the mansion when Dez sent me to get you moving. Why? What happened?”

  Shit, Sven thought. Carlos didn’t know Cara had been in trouble, or that the two of them had been the source of the lead, never mind that Zane and Lora were under arrest, and the rebels undoubtedly pissed, maybe worse.

  But it also meant that Dez had somehow squelched the rumor pipeline… and probably had a plan for how he wanted things let out in public. “Hm. You should probably hear it from Dez or Cara.”

  Sharp gray eyes got way sharper. “I’d rather hear it from you, right now.”

  But Sven’s fealty oath said to keep his mouth shut, so he said only, “There was an incident. She’s fine, but there’s going to be some fallout. Let me take this meeting with Dez and find out where we stand.”

  The winikin didn’t ask, not even about his daughter. He just nodded. “The king will tell us what we need to know, when we need to know it.”

  It wasn’t the first time Sven had done the stop-and-blink thing over Carlos’s acceptance of—and, hell, defense of—the hierarchy. Now, though, there was a spark of frustration. Okay, more than a spark. “Don’t you want to know what happened to Cara?”

  “You said she was fine. And she’s made her choices.”

  “Some of them, maybe.” But she hadn’t chosen to take her marks in the first place, and yesterday she hadn’t chosen to once more wear the coyote glyph. They just kept getting handed to her. And even though Carlos wasn’t doing anything out of his norm, it suddenly pissed Sven off far more than usual. “It really gets you that she’s trying to find a middle ground with the rebels, doesn’t it?”

  The winikin’s lips turned down. “There shouldn’t need to be any compromise, no need to rewrite traditions that have served us for centuries. Especially not now.”

  “And you’re sure all of the traditions are right?”

  “I don’t think she should be the one deciding which ones to set aside.”

  “Who, then?” Sven pressed.

  “Jox wouldn’t have—” Carlos shook his head, scowling. “It doesn’t matter, does it? He put himself ahead of the winikin, ahead of the war.” He didn’t quite say the words “selfish bastard” aloud. “And he chose Cara as his successor… why? Four years ago she refused to do her duty and took off. Why would he figure she’d be any more reliable now?”

  Leave it alone, Sven told himself. She doesn’t want anyone fighting her battles for her. Or was it more that nobody had ever offered before? Either way, he couldn’t just let it go. Not when he’d spent the past few days—and, hell, the past twenty-four hours—seeing her strength and resourcefulness, and her dedication to the winikin. So he said, voice low, “She’s your daughter, Carlos. Yours and Essie’s.”

  A dull red flush said he’d scored, but the winikin’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t go there. You have no right.”

  “Maybe not, but nobody else is going to call you on it, are they?” Breakfast forgotten, Sven glared at the man who had raised him. “She’s your daughter, Carlos, your flesh and blood. If you don’t think you owe her some love—or at least some damn respect—because of that, then how about a little guilt for not giving her a choice, or, hell, some basic training, before you grabbed her, blooded her, and went, ‘Poof, there you go. Congratulations, I’ve made you into a servant!’”

  “I made her into your servant, you fucking ingrate,” Carlos said through gritted teeth.

  “I never asked you to. I didn’t want any of this, but I sure as hell didn’t want her waiting on me. For chrissake, that’s why I sent her away.”

  “Bullshit. You sent her away because you were afraid you couldn’t keep your hands off her, but you knew damn well there was no place for that sort of a relationship here at Skywatch with war on the horizon. You still know it.”

  “Then why the hell did you make her my winikin?” The question came out in an unintended roar. “Why did you warn me off her and then throw us together like that? Was it a test? Some sort of punishment? What? Jesus, Carlos.”

  “Language,” the winikin reprimanded, and for a second Sven was ten years old again and headed for the naughty corner.

  Only for a second, though. “Fuck my language and answer the question. Why did you do it?”

  “Screw this.” Carlos grabbed the tray of uneaten food and headed for the door, sloshing coffee on the floor as he went. “I don’t answer to you.”

  Sven didn’t point out the obvious contradiction. “Damn it, Carlos. If you didn’t want me around her, then why bind her to me?”

  The winikin stopped, slammed the tray down on the side table next to the door, and spun back. “Because it was the only way to get you back here, godsdamn it. When Jox called us all back to Skywatch, I had to be sure you would come. I knew if I asked you would tell me you were on your way, and keep doing whatever you were doing in the first place. Sure, I could have had them send someone out after you, but that would’ve meant… Shit, I couldn’t do that.”

  He hadn’t wanted to look bad, Sven realized. So he had sacrificed his daughter instead. He leaned back against the kitchen counter and felt the hard edge press into his kidneys while disgust coated his mouth. “You used her.”

  “Desperate times.”

  “You didn’t trust me to man up once I understood what was going on.”

  “Do you blame me?” The winikin’s raised eyebrow reminded Sven of his big apology and all those good intentions. Granted, he hadn’t repeated his old mistakes by doing a vanishing act when things started getting complicated, but maybe that would’ve been the lesser sin.

  “Yeah, damn it, I do blame you. I… Shit.” He paused, trying to rein in his bubbling temper, because he owed Carlos his life. But he didn’t owe him unquestioning acceptance, especially when it came to Cara. Not anymore. “You could’ve talked to me, told me the truth about the Nightkeepers and the situation. I would’ve come back with you.” He wanted to think he would have, at any rate. “You could’ve tried that first, at least, before using Cara.”

  Carlos’s eyes flared. “Do you think it was easy for me? Do you think I wanted to do it that way? For fuck’s sake, we were finally starting to get along. With Essie gone, we were eating together sometimes, riding out together. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. And then Jox called, and I didn’t have a fucking choice.”

  “There’s always a choice.”


  “Fine.” The older man lifted his chin to glare. “Then I made the choice. I ruined things with Cara, maybe even ruined things for her, in order to guarantee that the Nightkeepers got their coyote mage. Live with it. I know I do.”

  “You… Jesus, Carlos. Who does shit like that?”

  “A blood-bound winikin, that’s who. From day one, I was taught that the war is coming and the magi are the only ones who can save us, and that it’s up to the winikin to do whatever it takes—anything and everything, even if it means sacrificing our lives and families—to help them.”

  And he had sacrificed his family, Sven realized. Maybe not directly, but still. “Was it worth it?” The sudden twist in his gut said the answer mattered.

  “As long as you don’t let infatuation taint your powers, then yes. It was worth it.” And the damn thing was, there wasn’t an ounce of apology in the winikin’s eyes.

  Anger flared, roughening Sven’s voice. “How can you say that about your own daughter?”

  “The truth isn’t always easy. If the First Father had meant for the Nightkeepers and winikin to mix, he wouldn’t have forbidden them from mating.”

  “Did he? Seems to me that particular rule is a later addition.”

  “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? It’s easier than admitting that you’re risking your magic, sniffing around her like you’re doing.” Some of Sven’s flinch must’ve shown, because Carlos’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I noticed. Everyone has. So how about you do the right thing and stay the hell away from her?”

  The words echoed back across the years and left Sven staring. “That day. That summer… It wasn’t about her being too young. It was that you couldn’t stand the idea of a mage and a winikin together.”

  “It’s against the writs!”

  Sven didn’t bother arguing that one. “Jesus,” he said, shaking his head, “it wasn’t ever about her, was it? All along, I was the one you were trying to control. You couldn’t stand the fact that I cared about her. Still do,” he corrected. “And that’s driving you up a fucking wall.”

  “There isn’t room for sentiment when you’re fighting a war,” the winikin said darkly. “That is in the writs. Your responsibility is to the gods and ancestors, mankind, and then your king and the rest of the Nightkeepers. Lovers don’t make the list. They’re replaceable.”

  It seemed impossible that he could say that about his own daughter without blinking. “Are you really that heartless?”

  “No. I’m that scared.”

  “You’re… Wait. What?”

  “I’m scared of what’s coming. Fucking terrified. You were too young to remember anything about the massacre, and I used to thank the gods for that. But these days I’m not so sure, because I can’t help thinking you’d be taking things more seriously if you remembered what it was like…” His expression turned inward; his voice lowered to nearly a whisper. “Gods help us, it was awful. All the blood and the bodies, the screams, the children crying, running, being trampled. I… I stepped on them, ran over them carrying you, skidding in their blood and thinking that if I could just get away, we’d be safe.”

  Sven crossed the room to stand opposite the man who had rescued him that night, and who had raised him the best he knew how. That, of all of it, had never been in doubt. “I’ll never forget that you saved my life.”

  Carlos’s eyes came up, and his hand shot out and clamped on Sven’s wrist. His fingers dug in and held. “Good. Because now it’s your turn. I need you to save my life. I need you to save all of our lives, including hers. And you can’t do that if you’re letting yourself be distracted. You need to focus on what really matters.”

  And damned if he didn’t have a point, one that resonated deep inside Sven, tugging at his warrior’s magic. But at the same time, he couldn’t ignore the string of seeming coincidences that had put him and Cara together in the coyote cave, with the scene set for sex. More, he couldn’t ignore—didn’t want to ignore—the heat that flared through him at the thought of her. “What if she’s part of what really matters?”

  “She’s not.”

  “I think she is.” It was all he could say without coming up against his fealty oath, which was already buzzing at the back of his brain, warning him that he needed to get moving; the king was waiting. But that wasn’t the only thing banging around inside his head, not by a long shot. Duty was one thing, destiny another, and both were sacred to the gods.

  “Do you?” Carlos’s expression was hard, uncompromising. “Or are you looking for a sign that tells you it’s okay to do exactly what you want with no thought of the consequences?”

  Cara had asked him nearly the same thing. Hell, he had asked it of himself. “Not this time.”

  The winikin hesitated, then said slowly, “You made me a promise once. I’m going to ask you for another one.”

  “I won’t promise to stay away from her. I can’t.” It wasn’t until the words were out there that he realized just how true they were.

  “Promise me that you won’t do anything about it unless you’re absolutely certain of the gods’ plan… or if you’re not certain, that you’ll wait until after the end date.” Carlos’s lips turned up in an utterly humorless smile. “If nothing else, that’ll give you something to fight for.”

  “I won’t…” Sven began, but then trailed off, because fuck if that didn’t sound reasonable. But he wouldn’t—couldn’t—make a vow he wasn’t sure he could keep, or even if he should try, because the magi rarely understood the gods’ plans except in hindsight. “I promise I’ll do my damnedest not to compromise the Nightkeepers or winikin by my actions. That’s the best I can do.” He held up a palm. “You want it in blood?”

  “No, damn it, I want you to do the right thing.”

  Sven hated this. He was pissed at Carlos, but that didn’t change the fact that he owed the older winikin for his life, and for shaping him into the man he’d become. There was love there, if not always affection. “I’m trying to do the right thing,” he grated. “We just disagree on what that means right now. And the king’s waiting for me.”

  Carlos scowled. “Then go already.”

  “Do you want me to swing by later and fill you in?”

  The peace offering got an irritable shrug. “Dez will make sure we know what he wants us to.”

  “But Cara—”

  “You said she was fine. I’ll take your word on it.”

  Anger kicked anew. “Don’t you care about her at all?”

  Carlos looked away, throat working, and his voice was rough when he said, “Of course I do, damn you. She’s all I have left of Essie.” He picked up the tray and headed for the door, shooting over his shoulder, “But if you don’t save the world, it won’t matter what I care about.”

  The door closed behind him with a definitive-sounding thunk, making that a hell of an exit line. Or it would’ve been if he hadn’t been talking about Cara.

  She deserved a father who would’ve gone for his throat at the first hint of their fooling around, and not because of bigotry; a lover who would’ve taken her old man down for being a cold bastard when it came to her; family members who would’ve banded together rather than scattering to sulk in their own corners when things got bad. She deserved… Oh, shit.

  He stood there a moment, staring at the door as he got it. He freaking got it.

  She needed someone on her side, someone with an official don’t fuck with me title and the weight of the king behind him. And he could be that guy, though not in the way he most wanted. No, he wasn’t going to be her lover.… He was going to take Dez up on his job offer. It would piss her off, granted, but it would put him in a position to protect her not only from her enemies, but from herself. And right now that had to be his first and foremost priority.… Because despite all the signs pointing to the value of a quick and painless exit, and all the complications that were bound to come from his sticking way too close to her, he wasn’t going to walk away from her this time.


  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  When the door behind Cara opened and boots sounded on the tiled foyer of the royal suite, she gritted her teeth. First, because she had been on the cusp of getting Dez to agree to her strategy and now the moment was lost. And second, because she knew who it was right away, not just because she, Dez, and Reese had been waiting for him, but because the air changed, sending heated currents coursing over her skin and raising the fine hairs on the back of her neck.

  She hesitated a moment, then turned, playing it casual and hoping to hell that the king and his mate didn’t see her flush like an idiot teen.

  Sven was wearing jeans, boots, and a battered T-shirt, and should’ve looked like the beach bum he’d been when she first tracked him down to bring him back with her to Skywatch. But the clothes were where the resemblance ended. His body was bigger, his swagger tougher, and his eyes homed in on hers immediately, locking there for a moment and gaining a silent question, as if he wanted to ask whether she was okay, or maybe how much she had told the king.

  She sent him a small nod, not even sure what she was really trying to convey other than acknowledgment. She was okay on some levels, far from it on others, and her and Dez’s conversation wasn’t really his business. She had her own relationship with the Nightkeepers’ leader, her own agenda, and neither of those things had anything to do with her and Sven.

  “Sorry it took me so long to get here,” he said to Dez and Reese as he crossed the room. “I needed a few minutes with Carlos.”

  Cara stiffened. She had tried to find her father last night and again this morning, but he hadn’t been in his quarters, the greenhouse, or any of his usual haunts. Had he been avoiding her? Ire gathered, even though by the time she had awakened from five hours of restless dozing, she had all but talked herself out of asking his advice. She knew what he would say, after all: Don’t overreach; be proud of your heritage; don’t try to be something you’re not.

  Well, screw that. She would decide what she was and wasn’t going to do, and right now, she was doing her damnedest to keep the winikin on her side in the aftermath of last night’s blowout. And Sven was interrupting.