The Magic Knot

by Helen Scott Taylor

  The truth sucker punched Rose. She pressed a fist to her belly. “I should have known Niall was involved with my father only because he had no choice. This is my fault, isn’t it?”

  Jacca touched her shoulder. “Easy, Rosenwyn. This is Niall’s choice. Come away. He didn’t want you to watch.”

  The two guards grabbed Niall’s arms, pulled them behind his back, and looped silver chains around his body.

  Niall’s choice? Impossible. He always wanted to be in control. She remembered the Justice card she’d pulled for him. He was the dispenser of justice, not the victim. He must hate this. Rose hated it. A thread of fire burned through her body like a fuse stuck in dynamite. Mentally she pushed outward, followed the sizzling wire toward Niall, smashed through the barrier he’d erected to keep her out of his mind, and fell into the churning nausea and pain of his humiliation.

  With a surge of determination that nearly turned her inside out, she willed him to stand. For a second he resisted her encouragement; then he yanked his arms from the guards’ grip. Silver chain whipped through the air as he sprang to his feet. A fiery thread of pure energy bound them at a level deeper than thought, deeper than intention, where instinct ruled like a primeval beast.

  At that moment, Rose knew Ana was right: Rose held a part of Niall. He belonged to her. She would never let Ciar have him, even if she had to fight the woman.

  Rose elbowed through the curious crowd, Jacca on her heels. He grabbed at her dress but she pulled away, ignoring the ripping sound. She jumped up on the dais beside Niall, glared at the startled guards, who backed away hastily, and slapped a possessive hand on Niall’s arm. “Maybe you didn’t understand me earlier,” she said, raising her eyebrows at Ciar. “Niall comes under my jurisdiction now. Five years in Cornwall makes him an honorary pisky.”

  A stunned silence swept around the room until the hall was filled with absolute quiet. Ciar gazed at Rose, her blazing eyes spitting angry sparks. “You…can’t…stop me.” She seemed to have trouble getting the words out. People obviously didn’t challenge her often.

  Rose shook her head. “He’s mine.” To emphasize her point, she stepped between Niall and Ciar.

  “No, lass,” he whispered, and pulled on her arm to move her back. She resisted.

  Something Michael had said about protection surfaced in her brain. “We’re bound in body, mind, and spirit. Harm mine; harm me.”

  Ciar blinked repeatedly. Her fire faded. Her forehead creased like crumpled paper. For a second Rose glimpsed a wrinkled old hag, her body withered and decrepit, her rheumy eyes smoky with malevolence. After a moment of gut-twisting horror, Rose leaped back and bumped into the solid reassurance of Niall. He grasped her waist to steady her.

  How the ancient queen still lived in that state was beyond imagination. Skin on bone. A living skeleton. She must wear layer upon layer of glamour to maintain her normal appearance. No wonder she was known as the Queen of Nightmares.

  Ciar’s glamour floated back, gradually altering her appearance until she looked young again, but her features remained twisted and bitter. She started to rise. Troy gripped her shoulder, and she sank back obediently.

  Troy scrutinized Rose and Niall with an intensity that seemed to press against her skin. Understanding flashed in Troy’s eyes. He inclined his head toward Rose. “Touché.”

  Lifting Ciar’s hand, he brushed his lips across her knuckles. “There are complications with protocol, Fearsome Goddess. Unfortunately, you must reconsider your plans. Perhaps the pisky queen will suggest another entertainment for you.” His eyes focused on some thing behind Rose. “Maybe the nightstalker will amuse you?”

  “I don’t want to be bitten.” Ciar pouted like a sulky child.

  “Maybe you’ like to watch him bite. It’s something we don’t often see.”

  Ciar brightened and straightened in her seat. “That would be an acceptable alternative, I suppose.”

  Rose opened her mouth, intending to refuse, when Jacca stepped up beside her and squeezed her arm. He bowed to Ciar, spread his wings, and snapped them dramatically, causing the crowd to jump back. “It would be an honor to entertain you, Fearsome Goddess. Whom would you have me bond with?”

  While Ciar scanned the crowd for a victim, Rose stared at Troy, mystified at his seeming control over the queen. His intervention had defused the situation and redirected Ciar’s attention. Who was really in charge here? Slowly he turned his head. He and Rose studied each other. Creases formed between his eyebrows, and she sensed that he was reassessing her.

  Michael swaggered up beside Jacca, grinning at everybody. “Ready, willing, and able. Where do you want me?”

  Niall tensed against her back. She remembered him berating Michael, Have your tryst in private. It looked as though Michael was about to have his little session with Jacca in as public a place as possible.

  Ciar jumped up and clapped her hands. “On the chaise longue.” She pointed to a blue-and-gold brocade seat against the wall to her right.

  Gathering her thoughts, Rose looked at Michael and Jacca. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Jacca arched an eyebrow and his lips twitched. “I’m sure I can force myself to partake of the bard.”

  Michael grinned hugely and rubbed his bare chest. “Try and stop me.”

  Troy appeared beside Rose with a chair. “Sit, pisky Queen. I suggest the wisest course now is to remain silent and watchful.” As he seated her, his hand brushed her arm. The room faded. She stood alone on a desolate rocky peak surrounded by mountain air clear and cold enough to make her teeth ache.

  Rose gasped, and the vibrant colors and noise of the room returned. What was that? A warning? She glanced up at Troy and saw him exchange a look with Niall she didn’t understand. Niall moved behind her chair and placed his hand on her shoulder as Troy had done with Ciar. Support or restraint? Rose bit her lip. Either way Niall’s touch felt right.

  Michael wandered across to the chaise longue and leaned back, flexing his muscles. Jacca walked toward him. He paused and scanned the length of Michael’s body like a man admiring his lover. Rose swallowed, cleared her throat, and patted her mouth. She had gotten so used to Michael being virtually naked, she’d forgotten. Seeing him lying on the chaise longue wearing nothing but the tiny black jockstrap, he suddenly seemed to be showing an awful lot of exposed flesh.

  Looking down, Rose fiddled with the sequins on her dress. She’d imagined the two men would remain standing. But if Michael were lying down, Jacca would have to lie on top of him. Niall squeezed her shoulder, and her heart skittered.

  Maybe now was a good time to find the jeweled parlor where her meal was set out. Not that she would be able to eat anything, knowing what was going on in here. She glanced around. Everyone stood in rapt silence, the sparkling array of blue, green, and gold eyes fixed on the chaise longue. Ciar leaned forward in her chair, gnawing her nails like a rat.

  Rose glanced at Troy to see his reaction to his son’s role in this performance. While everyone else in the room stared at Jacca and Michael, Troy gazed longingly at Niall. Troy’s dark pupils glittered, sharp points of pain that stabbed her heart. Why had Troy rejected Niall when he obviously cared about him very much?

  Niall’s fingers dug into her shoulder. She glanced up at him, assuming he’d noticed her looking at his father, but his furious gaze was riveted on his brother.

  With a rush of trepidation, Rose looked toward the chaise longue. Jacca sat beside Michael’s hip and ran a hand across Michael’s chest. The nightstalker stroked his partner’s face, smoothed his hair—a cross between a lover’s touch and petting a cat.

  Wriggling to get comfortable, Michael closed his eyes. With gentle command, Jacca placed two fingers against Michael’s jaw and pushed his head to one side, exposing his neck.

  Rose heard Ciar squeal and tried to ignore her own guilty flush of excitement.

  Jacca leaned down, dark hair tumbling against Michael’s chest. He ran his tongue along Michael’s collarbone,
onto his neck. The low rumble of Michael’s groan slithered through Rose like an erotic stimulant. Part of her wanted to look away, but she was hooked on the rush of illicit pleasure.

  Michael reached his arm around Jacca’s shoulder and pulled him closer, as the nightstalker’s neck muscles corded, a predator about to strike.

  Niall’s fingers bit into Rose’s shoulder again, but she hardly noticed the pain. Transfixed by Jacca’s gleaming silver eyes, she imagined the dark mix of fear and pleasure Michael must be feeling as he parted his lips and bit down.

  Rose gasped with everyone in the room and clutched the arms of her chair. Michael tensed, his body bowed against Jacca, then released a lingering breath and relaxed.

  Continuing to feed, Jacca slid down and lay on the chaise longue. The nightstalker lifted his leg across Michael possessively before spreading his wings so the two of them were hidden.

  Ciar let out a frustrated huff. Troy crouched at her side. “He’s not blocking you out on purpose, my queen. The nightstalker instinctively protects his partner while he’s vulnerable.”

  “I know, I know.” Ciar screwed up her nose and threw her small body back in the throne. “I’d hoped for something more exciting.”

  “I doubt there will be any sex, Fearsome Goddess,” Troy said. “Michael doesn’t usually show interest in men. I don’t know about the stalker.” He lifted an inquiring eyebrow at Rose.

  Guiltily dragging herself back from the pleasurable voyeuristic haze, she shrugged. This was definitely one conversation she did not want to be involved in.

  After a few minutes, Jacca raised his head and folded his wings. He ran his tongue over the puncture marks in Michael’s neck, then lay with him and stroked his face and hair while he recovered.

  When Michael opened his eyes and smiled sleepily, Jacca stood, stretched, and ran the back of his hand over his mouth. He gave Rose a dazed smile and wandered toward her. “I think I’m experiencing secondary intoxication from the alcohol in Michael’s bloodstream, but the sensation is not unpleasant.”

  Worried he might keel over, Rose stood and offered him the chair. He shook his head and slapped his chest. “After taking blood, my body sings.”

  Niall shot a cold, fierce look at Jacca, which sent ripples of warning through Rose. Please don’t let them start fighting now.

  “Keep your prejudice to yourself, Irish,” Jacca said. “It was a willing giving on both sides. He gave me blood. I gave him pleasure.” He glanced over his shoulder to where Michael lazed on the chaise longue like a sated lover, and grinned. “Maybe you’re just jealous.”

  Troy strolled across to Michael. With one finger he tipped Michael’s head to the side and examined the place he’d been bitten. “The mark is healed, lad. Did you enjoy that experience?” Michael grinned up at his father, and Troy shook his head indulgently. “’Tis good to have you back, son.”

  Niall glared at Troy and Michael, checked his knives, and turned his back. “I’m going to have a look at the exits.” He stomped off, disappearing among the crowd.

  Rose stared after him and sighed. What would it take to repair the relationship between Troy and Niall? She had a feeling Niall would have to come to terms with what had happened between him and his father before he would open up emotionally and give her a chance of reaching him.

  She took Jacca’s arm and nodded toward Ciar. “Now that a certain person who shall remain nameless is looking happy, I’m going to try asking her advice on freeing the piskies.” This was the reason Rose had come. Much as she wanted to get close to Niall, that would have to wait until later.

  As they approached, Ciar’s eyes passed over Rose and settled on Jacca. She wrinkled her nose and smiled. “You’re welcome to stay and entertain us for as long as you like. We rarely get a visit from your kind these days.”

  Rose felt Troy’s eyes on her, and she glanced toward him where he stood behind Ciar’s throne. He met her gaze thoughtfully. “I believe you came here for a reason, pisky Queen. Will you share it with us?”

  How very obliging of him to give her an opening. But could she trust him? “I need the benefit of your experience.” She flicked her gaze from Troy to Ciar, including them both in her request. She hesitated a second. Admitting that her whole troop was trapped and she was queen of nobody and nothing would undermine her position, but she had no option. “The druid who worked with the Cornish court betrayed the piskies when I was a child. He broke the Magic Knot of each individual and trapped their bodies in paintings, and their minds and spirits in enchanted glass globes. I’ve come here in the hope that you”— she glanced at Ciar and tried for a genuine smile—“in your wisdom, will know how I can rejoin the three facets of each individual to bring the piskies back to life.”

  Troy scrutinized her with the same unreadable expression Niall often wore. Ciar gaped, eyes wide with outrage. “You allowed such a thing to happen to your own people?”

  “Hang on a minute. I was only a little girl when it was done.”

  “Irrelevant.” She slapped her tiny hand on the chair arm. “Your family allowed this atrocity. You’re culpable.”

  Thank heavens Rose hadn’t mentioned that it was her father who’d imprisoned the piskies.

  “My mother was tricked. I’m trying to save my troop.”

  “Your troop?” Ciar jumped up and burst into flames.

  Rose backed away from the heat. Although the flames were glamour, they were hot. Poor Niall must have suffered agony when Ciar touched his head.

  Fire crackled in Ciar’s hair and clothes. She pointed at Rose. “You have no troop. You deserve no troop. You are no queen.”

  Troy’s face froze with the pale perfection of marble carved by the hand of God. He touched Ciar’s shoulder. “Fearsome Goddess, I suggest—”

  “Not this time!” She shrugged away his hand and glared through wicked slits of fire. “Human impostor. I see no evidence of fairy blood. I’ll not reveal fairy lore to a human. Get out!”

  Desperation filled Rose, pushed out her fear. She couldn’t leave without discovering how to free the piskies or the trip to Ireland would have been for nothing.

  Jacca moved closer. She sensed him, tense and ready to protect her. His steady presence gave her focus, kept her calm. There must be a way to reason with the woman. “Queen of Nightmares”—she cringed inwardly as she said the name, but it had to be done— “my mother was a pisky princess and my father human. I’m as much fairy as human.”

  “If so, your fairy essence is buried beneath the mire of humanity. You come in here and speak to me as no fairy would dare. You understand nothing of our ways.”

  Rose jammed her fists on her hips. “No, and I never will unless someone helps me learn. I have seventy-two piskies who’ve spent the last thirty years in limbo. If I don’t free them, they’ll be there for the next thirty years and the next”—Rose threw out her arm in frustration—“ad infinitum. Is that what you want?”

  Ciar tensed to leap forward. Rose cringed. Jacca stepped in front of her. Troy grabbed Ciar’s shoulders before she could move, and she hissed a smoky breath.

  “Perhaps if the pisky queen were to awaken her inner fairy, it would be more acceptable to share our knowledge with her,” he suggested in the same low, musical tone he’d used the first time Rose heard him speak.

  Ciar’s fire faded. She pouted and plopped down in her seat. “If she can dredge it up from beneath the sludge of her human ignorance.”

  “I suggest she runs the light with a fairy,” Troy said.

  “Ready, willing, and very able.” Michael’s voice sounded from the chaise longue. He stood and scratched his chest. “I’m horny as hell after that session with Nightshade.”

  Warning bells sounded in Rose’s head. She leaned closer to Jacca and whispered, “What’s ‘running the light’?”

  “It’s a way of channeling spiritual energy.”

  “How?”

  “Usually via sex.”

  She’d suspected as much. Where was Nia
ll when she needed him? Her heart picked up, and she chewed her lip as she glanced around. Opening her mind, she tried to sense him and found the empty void of his withdrawal. Damn him. She grabbed a breath and faced Troy. “Isn’t there another way to activate my fairy half?

  He gave her a steady look. “Intense suffering can also work. If you’re exposed to enough pain, your instinct for self-preservation might activate your fairy powers.”

  Rose looked at her feet. Sex with someone she didn’t love or intense pain. She wasn’t keen on casual sex, but she wasn’t stupid either. “Okay, that one’s a no-brainer.”

  Michael ambled toward her, his lips tilted in a seductive grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

  Troy frowned at his approach. “Perhaps, Michael, there may be another….” Troy scanned the room from his raised viewpoint on the dais and focused his attention on the back of the hall.