by Zoe Chant
“Safe...?” Poppy frowned, and then the realization caught up with her all at once.
Daniel had had a very specific plan to travel to Istanbul with the stones. He had been delivering them, or selling them, to someone. Someone who, if they could get in touch with Daniel, would know she had the stones. They might not know exactly where she had gone, but...
“I’ll protect you,” Tristan promised softly. “That’s what I’m here to do. We just need to get to the airport and get to Valtyra. You’ll be safe there.”
Poppy nodded against his chest, and Tristan added, “You should probably get dressed first.”
Poppy nodded, but she let herself cling to him for another moment before she got out of bed to do it.
*~*~*
Chapter 11 - Tristan
Before Tristan had persuaded himself to get out of bed, let alone Poppy, there was a loud, rapid knock on the door from Peter’s room. Peter’s voice accompanied it, sharp and urgent, “Tristan?”
Tristan got up immediately, and Poppy was already scrambling away, grabbing her pack and slamming the bathroom door behind her. Heart beating fast, from startlement and Poppy’s instantaneous reaction, Tristan called out, “What is it, Peter?” as he approached the door.
“I need to speak to you,” Peter replied, his voice lower, but Tristan still had no trouble making out either his words or the tension behind them. “About... work.”
Tristan unlocked the door and yanked it open, giving Peter a quick glance before turning away to find clothes. Peter was fully dressed in a suit, but he looked slightly disheveled, like he’d been wearing the suit for hours and all of them had been busy.
Tristan felt a twinge of guilt—he really should have been keeping a closer eye on Peter, he had no idea where Peter had been this morning—as well as a deeper unease.
Peter had inserted himself into the investigation into Daniel’s actions. Tristan had assumed it was to have something to do, to prove himself by keeping busy and pursuing the man who had endangered Poppy.
Now that Tristan knew what Daniel had been smuggling, though, it was hard not to make a guess at who would want the wisdom stones. Otto had to be at the top of the list, and it was only a few weeks ago that Peter had attempted to kill Princess Signy, had left the marks of his claws on Tristan and Kai, because Otto had told him to.
For the smuggling to be happening so quickly, when Otto had fled Valtyra only days ago, in what had seemed to be utter disarray...
Otto had to have known already how he could get his hands on the stones. He might even have been behind the original theft, years ago. A man who thought so far ahead, who laid such intricate plans, wouldn’t have had any trouble coaching Peter on what to say if captured to win the sympathy of the king and the rest of the Royal Guard. It was Peter who had brought them to London—not just in time to meet Poppy, but the night before the smuggling was supposed to be done.
Tristan was confident that nothing he was thinking showed in his face or body as he turned his back on Peter and walked across the room, but he still felt a little better when he had pants on. He turned back toward Peter as he pulled on an undershirt.
“What’s going on? I told Poppy about Valtyra this morning—we’re headed back there as soon as we can get a flight plan filed.”
Peter’s mouth tightened, and he folded his arms. Tristan planted his own feet at the sight of that unspoken resistance. He was between Peter and Poppy—between Peter and the stones. He would not be moved.
“I agree,” Peter said, leaving Tristan feeling a little off balance, though he showed nothing. “Miss Zlotsky needs to be removed from the country and safe in Valtyra as soon as possible. Some... precautions in transit may be required, though, and... questions have arisen due to developments in the case.”
Tristan stared at him. Peter was speaking English, whether out of habit from working with the English police for the last few days, or because he was just as aware as Tristan was that Poppy was directly behind the closed bathroom door, listening with all her might.
Still, it wasn’t the sort of English Tristan had ever heard him speak before. Peter was speaking Police.
“Tell me what happened,” Tristan directed firmly.
Peter blew out an irritated breath and for once didn’t shoot a guilty look at Tristan’s face. “Daniel was attacked early this morning, while being transferred from short-term lockup to a jail. By a bird.”
Tristan blinked, but took Peter’s meaning instantly. “By a shifter.”
Peter nodded sharply. “Went straight for the face and throat. He’ll live, but no one’s sure he’ll speak again.” Peter’s gaze did flick to Tristan’s scars then, but it was an oddly neutral acknowledgment of their presence, nothing more. “I found out about this when a new detective showed up—a shifter, some kind of stag, I think. We spotted each other immediately, obviously, and I had to call out the embassy to keep from being suspected of being involved, but eventually he let me in on what happened, and we took a look at CCTV footage from the airport.”
Tristan turned away, looking for a clean shirt. He knew how the rest of the revelation was going to go.
“He was smuggling something, Tristan. For shifters, who very nearly killed him for not delivering. And whatever it was he had, it looks like Miss Zlotsky took it. Diplomatic immunity will keep her out of jail, but it won’t protect her from whoever sent that hawk after Daniel—and he was heard to scream the girl took them before he ceased to be able to form words, so they’ll be looking for her.”
Tristan buttoned up his shirt very neatly and picked up his tie. He could sense Poppy in the bathroom, keeping very still. He hoped she was letting him handle this, and not asking the tiger stone for help.
“Tristan,” Peter said sharply. “Diplomatic immunity or no, Detective Sunderland is waiting downstairs to find out what the hell Miss Zlotsky took. You have to—”
“I have to keep her safe, and bring her back to Valtyra,” Tristan said evenly. “You were seconded to me to support that mission. Remember?”
Peter’s eyes narrowed. “So, what, I was supposed to sit here and twiddle my thumbs and wait for you to quit being too mate-blinded to step foot outside? That’s what I’m here for?”
“I have no idea what you’re here for, Peter.” Tristan turned fully to face him as he shrugged into his jacket. “I only know that you’ve said some things.”
Peter’s hands closed into fists, his face flushing with rage, and Tristan watched him, waiting for some sign he could be sure of.
“You think I—I—why would I still be here?” Peter demanded. “Why would you even—if you thought that I was really a traitor, why even let me out of that cell? Why would I surround myself with police—”
“Who don’t know the country you betrayed even exists,” Tristan put in.
“I was lied to,” Peter snarled, crossing the room in quick strides that wanted to be a single, furious pounce. “You heard my confession, Tristan. You—you said you—”
And there it was, a flicker of hurt in the anger.
“You said you thought I could start again,” Peter whispered, almost a hiss. In Valtyran, now. Nothing about this was habit, or intended for Poppy’s ears. “I’ve been doing nothing but trying to solve this, to make sure Miss Zlotsky and—and anyone else like her are never endangered by that man again. I’m telling you the truth, I’m telling you I’ll help get her out of England. Why would you doubt me now?”
Tristan watched his eyes, hoping his own instincts couldn’t really be as wildly mistaken as all that, and said, “Because I know what Poppy took. And I know who would want it.”
Peter’s expression turned to bafflement. “What, you think... Otto? What would he...”
Peter trailed off, and then his gaze sharpened all at once, going from Tristan to the door. “You mean—but—she’s human, she’d never even heard of Valtyra, how—”
The bathroom door opened behind Tristan, and he edged a little further into Peter’s spac
e. It was pointless to try to tell Poppy to stay back.
“Since we’re talking about me,” Poppy said, in flawless Valtyran. “I thought I’d join in. Here, look, this is what I took, okay? I was curious and then realized they were important. I didn’t have to know anything about Valtyra to figure that out.”
Peter’s jaw dropped. Tristan managed to restrain his own expression of surprise to looking to see which of the statues Poppy was holding. He didn’t feel anything pulling at her, the way the tiger had when it was unwrapped under her hands, and she seemed much too calm.
He stopped breathing when he saw what Poppy was holding in her hands, offering it to Peter like it was nothing. It was another Wisdom Stone—the bear, the stone—the heart—of the king’s own clan and the royal line.
Tristan forced his gaze to Peter. If Otto wanted any of the stones at all, he would want this one most. He would want to destroy it, or subvert it, use it to destroy the af Bjorn clan in Valtyra. There wasn’t much left of them anyway—the royal family coming down to Princess Signy was only one example. And Signy’s children would probably be lions, not bears, so that was another line extinguished.
What Poppy held in her hands could change all that, if it was taken home safely—or hasten it, fatally, if Otto got his hands on it.
Tristan saw a flicker of greed in Peter’s eyes. Dragons were always that way; they couldn’t help thinking of their hoards and what they could add to them all the time. Serving in the Royal Guard, Peter was allowed to declare, if challenged, I keep a king. It was vital to say keep, not own or even hold, but the keeping of the king was considered, officially, to outrank any other hoard regardless of its content.
I keep the Wisdom Stone of the royal lineage—or better yet, I own—would be an unimaginable temptation to a disgraced dragon, without family or clan or hoard of any kind.
Peter squeezed his eyes shut, blowing out a breath like a hiss, hot enough that Tristan felt its passage. “You need to be Valtyran to understand that you shouldn’t just wave it around in people’s faces, apparently. Do you have any idea—”
Poppy’s gaze darted to Tristan as soon as Peter’s eyes closed, and she made a face—apologetic and sure, all at once—and Tristan thought that he knew exactly why Poppy was waving the stone around like it meant nothing. Even if she had some particular connection with the tiger, the bear wouldn’t—couldn’t mean nothing to her, and she wasn’t that good at pretending. Not good enough to fool her mate, even if she might have fooled Peter.
The bear was fake. Empty. There was nothing inside to communicate with her.
“Clearly I have no idea,” Poppy said breezily. “Just like I have no idea who this Otto guy is and how you betrayed Valtyra. But I’d like to know both of those things before I listen to another word either of you have to say.”
Peter ran a hand through his hair, turning half away.
“Otto attempted to overthrow the king of Valtyra,” Tristan said quietly. “Your sister was instrumental in stopping him. Otto was a Count, and First Minister on the King’s Council. He had a lot of people fooled—including Peter. And at his urging, Peter attempted to stop your sister.”
Poppy frowned, and then her gaze dropped to Tristan’s scars and darted to Peter. “When you say stop...”
“Kai didn’t let him hurt her, and I didn’t let him get away,” Tristan said firmly, stepping smoothly between them when Poppy lunged, raising the bear stone as though it were nothing but a rock. She obviously intended to bring it down on Peter’s skull, but Tristan got his arms around her and bore her a few steps back from Peter.
The stone really had to be false; she never would have used the real one that way.
Poppy’s attention shifted from Peter to Tristan as soon as he thwarted her. “And you! Why didn’t you tell me Signy was in danger?! Why didn’t you tell me that he did that to you?”
Tristan raised his eyebrows enough for Poppy to know he was being pointed about it. “There hasn’t been much time, my own. And I didn’t think he was a danger to anyone. I still don’t. I think he is doing his best to make things right.”
Poppy pressed her lips together and then brandished the bear at him. “Fine. But you’d better give some serious thought to what secrets you’re still keeping from me, Mister, because I’m not giving you many more free passes on that.”
Tristan considered, for a split second, laying it all out right now—that Signy’s father had been a prince of Valtyra, Signy a princess from birth, now the Crown Princess, and likely Queen before very much longer, with Kai ruling at her side.
There was no time, not if someone knew Poppy had the stones, if they were sending shifters to attack. He glanced toward the windows, the drapes still drawn over them, and then met Poppy’s eyes again. “I understand. But we need to go. Now.”
Poppy nodded, and Tristan turned to find Peter watching him with an expression Tristan couldn’t read. More positive than not, he thought, and that was progress. He moved to lay his hand on Peter’s shoulder and squeezed. “Do you need more than that to tell your detective? Because I’d like to have his help as well as yours to get Poppy to the airport.”
Peter blinked at him, smiled tentatively, and then said, “I think I can work with that.”
*~*~*
Chapter 12 - Poppy
Poppy hesitated before returning the bear stone to her pack. She’d been willing to wave it at Peter because she was—mostly—sure that it was fake, but she couldn’t be entirely sure.
Tristan said she was a guardian and that was why she could hear the tiger, but it wasn’t like she’d had testing or training on it. She might not be a very good guardian, or it might take a different kind of skill to hear a bear rather than the big cats. Maybe the bear was hibernating.
Still, she could see that they were relying on Peter to get out of here and back to Valtyra safely with the tiger and lion, so she thought a show of trust was probably in order. She turned back at the door to the bathroom and held out the bear stone again.
“Do you need this one?” Poppy asked. “To show the police, or... whatever?”
Peter stared at the stone, and Tristan went very, very still. Poppy had a feeling she’d stuck her foot in it in some way she didn’t really understand, but she held her position, waiting for some cue from Tristan.
Finally Peter shook his head. “No. No, it... it belongs to Valtyra, and for the time being I...” Peter looked toward Tristan. “I don’t think I’m coming home anytime soon.”
Poppy turned her back and hurried to put the bear away safely with the others, still listening to the men outside.
Tristan spoke first. “Peter, if this is going to make trouble for you with the police here—”
Peter laughed a little, with a bitter edge. “No, it’s not that. If Otto was behind this somehow—I have to stay, don’t you see? I have to help with the investigation. I can help better than anyone else in Valtyra. And we both know I’d have been called home days ago if anyone in Valtyra had the slightest use for me. It’s better this way, Tristan. I can prove myself before I come home.”
Poppy finished rearranging everything in her pack to make it fit with the stones inside and closed it up, slinging it on her shoulder. But she hesitated until she heard Tristan sigh and say, “Well, I’m not going to tell you not to. Magnus approved you helping with the investigation for as long as we were in town, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” Peter said firmly. “So as long as I stay, I’m still seconded.”
Poppy stepped into the doorway before Tristan could feel compelled to try to say anything supportive. “I’m ready.”
Tristan gave her a tiny smile, like he knew that she had timed her entrance for him, and picked up his own suitcase. “Let’s go, then.”
Peter led them to a freight elevator, and when the doors opened there were already several people inside—four in police uniforms, two men and two women, and a man in a suit who introduced himself as Detective Inspector Sunderland.
“These
constables are on our in-the-know team,” Sunderland said, gesturing to the uniformed police. “So they won’t be shocked by anything they see. We’ll escort you directly to the airport.” Sunderland looked Poppy up and down and then looked at Peter. “As for the matter of the items in question...?”
“Sacred artifacts, now being repatriated,” Peter said briskly. “I’ll write up a full report, but suffice to say that Miss Zlotsky was acting on behalf of my country and shall have the full backing and protection of the Kingdom.”
Sunderland gave Peter a look like he was going to expect a lot of explanation for that, later, but in the meantime the elevator doors opened into a parking garage, where the Embassy car and three police cars awaited them. Tristan guided Poppy quickly into the Embassy car and Peter and Sunderland joined them while the police dispersed to the other cars.
Poppy put on her seatbelt and then wrapped her arms very firmly around her pack. Tristan put one arm over her shoulders, and murmured in her ear, “We’re not going to let any harm come to you.”
Poppy looked toward him, her eyes going to his scars. “Like you didn’t let anything happen to Signy?”
“No,” Tristan said, tightening his grip. “Because that was my duty, and you are far more than that.”
Poppy closed her eyes and leaned into Tristan’s grip for the rest of the ride to the airport.
She opened her eyes when Tristan’s grip on her tightened further, and she realized that they were driving into a different part of the airport than she’d ever seen before.
“We’re not walking through the terminal,” Tristan explained quietly. “They’re driving us direct to the plane on the tarmac. That means we’ll be in the open for a minute, going from the car up into the plane, so as soon as you come out of the car, you run. Understood?”
Poppy nodded, remembering what Peter had said: a bird shifter had attacked Daniel. There was no way they could possibly block birds from getting in.
Poppy wriggled out of Tristan’s grip, setting her pack down on the floor between her feet, and began digging through it. She pulled out the black scarf for her hair first, then her fleece and her raincoat. She was already wearing a sturdy pair of jeans, but she pulled out her hiking boots to switch for her sneakers.