The Magic Knot

by Helen Scott Taylor

  He stared at her, his eyes razor-sharp slits of blue. “Do you not realize what happened?”

  “What sort of question is that? Of course I do. We had great sex. I enjoyed it. You enjoyed it. It was special, Niall. And don’t you dare try to tell me it wasn’t.”

  He shook his head. “It didn’t work.”

  Rose smacked her hand on her thigh, ready to scream with frustration. “It worked pretty damn well for me. What the hell were you expecting?”

  “It did not work, Rose,” he said with exaggerated patience. “We failed to run the light. If you want to keep Ciar happy, you need to find another man.” He strode toward the door and wrenched it open. “’Tis obvious I’m not up to the job.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Niall slammed the bedroom door behind him and strode away from his chance of a happy future. He heard the door yanked open again, but he didn’t pause to look back. The hurt and accusation in Rose’s eyes had ripped at his heart. If he stayed to placate her, he might weaken. Anger roiled through him at the unfairness of life. He could not risk letting it fade or the despair lurking in the shadows of his mind would consume him.

  “Niall,” Rose shouted after him. Her tone demanded he come back now or never return. As if he had a choice. Didn’t she realize he’d failed her?

  “I’m no good to you,” he tossed over his shoulder. “I’ll be sending Michael or Nightshade.”

  As he rounded the corner at the end of the corridor, she shouted, “Lover to pimp in one evening. Good going, Niall.”

  Once out of sight he jerked to a halt, his breath coming in fast, tight gasps. Bloody Troy. Why had he believed his father’s lies? Niall slammed his fist into the wall, sending a spider’s web of cracks across the plaster. Pain shot up his arm. Grimacing, he shook his throbbing hand. He needed to regain control.

  Niall ran down the wide stairs, along the corridor, and yanked open the east door. He turned his face up to the chill night air and drew in three deep breaths. The cleansing energy of his element, earth, flowed up his legs and gave him strength to do what must be done.

  Although he wanted nothing more than to return to Cornwall, Troy had been right about one thing: Niall shouldn’t abandon the others. Especially Rose. Now that he’d touched her Magic Knot, he was fully bonded to her. If he couldn’t raise enough energy to run the light, he wasn’t worthy of her, but he would protect her, as he’d promised.

  With eyes closed, he opened himself to her and gritted his teeth at the twisting whip of vivid emotions beating at him: confusion, anger, love. Niall’s eyes flashed open and his breath caught. The link between them was more than the binding of the stones. She loved him—and he’d let her down. He didn’t deserve love.

  Rose must bring her fairy half to life. Not only would Ciar refuse to reveal any fairy lore otherwise; she might even decide Rose was human and punish her for the deception. Niall couldn’t take that risk. He had to send another man to Rose to make up for his failure.

  Michael was the obvious choice. But it seemed likely that, as he was of the same blood as Niall, he might also have trouble running the light with Rose.

  That left Nightshade.

  Niall pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and yelled, a primal burst of anger and pain that left his throat raw. His muscles trembled as he fought to banish the image of the nightstalker’s dark body against Rose’s pale skin. Fisting his hands, he stared into the night. He would conquer this weakness and put Rose’s needs first if it killed him.

  Niall straightened, stilled, controlled his breath, and composed himself. What ever happened, he would maintain his dignity. It was all he’d ever had.

  For the third time that evening he yanked open the east door and strode inside. After he’d sent Nightshade to Rose, he’d have a quiet father-son chat with Troy, and find out what in the Furies he was playing at. Niall flexed his wrists and felt the reassuring grip of his wrist sheaths. There was nothing like a blade in each hand when you had something important to say.

  Anger possessed Rose like a malevolent spirit. She stomped around the bedroom, snatching up her clothes.

  Bloody Niall. What was his problem? She’d never hated a man and wanted him so much at the same time. Something inside her had definitely changed when they made love. Before anger had burned it away, she’d been filled with a dreamy tingling. Maybe her fairy half had started to activate but needed more energy to be completed. They could have tried again. If only he’d asked how she felt before he ran away.

  There was no doubt that Niall had had a tough time as a kid. Well, her childhood hadn’t been a cakewalk either, but she didn’t behave like a martyr. She was getting a bit tired of his whipped-dog routine every time something didn’t go his way.

  She yanked on her underwear, then forced herself to stop, calm down, take care as she stepped into her dress. Any more rips in the delicate fabric and she’d look like a scarecrow.

  After slipping on her shoes, she turned toward the door and paused. She glanced at the decanter on the dresser. If she’d ever needed a drink, it was now. She strode across, sloshed some whiskey into a glass, and downed it in three rapid swallows. Her throat exploded with fire and she coughed.

  Despite the awful taste, a welcome warmth crept up from her belly, numbing the pain in her head, smoothing the edges of her anger into a manageable shape.

  If Niall thought he could climb out of her bed and send another man to service her as though she were a broodmare, he had another think coming. And Ciar didn’t like her being half human. Well, hard luck. The ugly little hag would have to get used to it. Rose was fed up with the lot of them. She’d come for information and she was going to get it. Demand answers in the same way she did when she conducted an investigation. Then, when she was happy, she’d leave.

  Rose marched down the magnificent staircase. When she threw open the double doors into the great hall, she stiffened her spine before striding forward. The bustle and noise in the room faded. People stepped aside to let her pass. The crowd around Ciar’s throne melted back.

  A man with long hair gleaming like polished oak knelt before the Irish queen, kissing her feet and calves. Rose stopped behind him and gave the tiny queen a don’t-mess-with-me look. “I’ve done what you wanted. Now, are you going to tell me how to save my people or am I wasting my time?”

  Ciar narrowed her eyes and wrinkled her nose. “You don’t look any different to me, human.” She bobbed a foot, kicking the man. “Liam, touch her. Tell me what you sense.”

  The man turned apologetic green eyes on Rose. He brushed his fingers around her ankle. Frowning, he cast Rose a sideways glance. “I’m not sure, Queen of Nightmares.”

  “Is she fairy?”

  The man stared at his hand. Poor guy, what could he say? Stuck between two queens, one of whom wouldn’t like his answer. Rose wanted to touch his bowed head, reassure him.

  “She is fairy, but it’s shrouded,” he whispered.

  Ciar flashed a vicious grin full of small, sharp teeth. “You haven’t changed. Maybe you can’t.” She jumped up. With the extra height of the dais, she stood face-to-face with Rose. “Maybe you aren’t really fairy at all and you’re tricking us. It’s been known for humans to masquerade as one of the Good People.”

  “I can assure you my mother was one hundred percent fairy.” This announcement would have shocked Rose to her foundations a few weeks ago, but now it had a reassuring ring.

  “There’s an easy way to prove your claim. An ancient test.” Ciar pinned Rose with a gaze that jabbed icy needles down her spine. “Humans have used it for centuries when they suspect we’ve taken one of their babies and replaced it with a changeling.” She sneered. “As if we’ want their feeble, ugly spawn.”

  A frigid lump of foreboding solidified in Rose’s stomach. She glanced around the room for Troy. Now would be a good time for him to show up and put his queen back on her leash. There wasn’t a friendly face in sight. Michael was probably holed up for the night in one of th
e bedrooms with a woman, and Jacca? Who knew what a nightstalker did in the dark. Stalked around, she supposed. They probably both thought she was safely tucked away with Niall.

  Warily, she turned back to Ciar. “Not a problem. I always ace tests.”

  Ciar gave her spiteful little pinched-face grin. Tongues of gold and blue flame licked across her skin; fiery snakes slithered through her hair. Rose raised a hand to shield her eyes and stepped back, gagging on the foul smell of scorched fabric and charred flesh. The man at Ciar’s feet leaped away to a safe distance. Deep inside Rose trembled, her confidence shaken.

  “Fire,” Ciar crooned like a lover. “My element.” She stroked her skin, gathered a ball of blue flame into her palm, and held it up. “Those, like Troy, whose element is air are unharmed by it. Fairies such as the piskies and leprechauns who are of the earth feel the pain of its touch, but none of the Good People suffer injury. Pass through my fire unscathed, and I’ll reveal the fairy lore you seek. If not”—she uncurled her fingers and flames burst from their tips—“you’ll burn.”

  “Hold.” At the shout Rose swung around, relief flooding through her at what she thought was Niall’s voice. With surprise, she watched Michael push through the inquisitive crowd, Jacca on his heels.

  Jacca stopped at Rose’s side while Michael went forward and dropped to his knees before Ciar. “I entreat you, Fearsome Goddess. Surely the test of fire isn’t necessary.”

  Ciar reached out, her hand dripping flames, and gripped the naked skin of Michael’s shoulder. He hunched and whimpered like an animal in pain. Shock darkened the edges of Rose’s vision. Before she could do anything to help Michael, Ciar released him.

  “You see? No injury.”

  The Irish queen was right: Michael’s shoulder was unmarked.

  “You did feel pain, though, didn’t you Seanchai?” She reached a flickering finger toward Michael’s face, and he cowered away, his expression pale and taut.

  “You bitch,” Rose whispered, her gut tight with a mix of anger and fear.

  Ciar raised a tiny foot and pushed Michael aside. “The pain will serve as a warning to this earth elemental to mind his own business in the future.”

  He scrambled to his feet and slunk back to Rose. “Where in the Furies is Niall?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Michael rubbed his shoulder and screwed up his eyes. “Shit.”

  Jacca leaned toward her, his silver eyes mirroring the dancing golden flames. “Niall was here a few minutes ago. He asked me to go to your room.”

  A fresh stab of pain spiked Rose’s heart. Although Niall had told her he’d send another man, she’d hoped he wouldn’t go through with it.

  “What in the Furies has gotten into the idiot?” Michael asked, and turned to Rose.

  “Not now.” She couldn’t think about what had happened with Niall, or she wouldn’t be strong enough to deal with Ciar.

  The Irish queen walked into the center of the room trailing a cloak of red and gold flame. The crowd swam back like a school of fish around a shark. “Give me a circle.” Everyone retreated to the edge of the room, dragging the furniture along to leave a clear space. Ciar raised her arms at her sides like a dancer and tiptoed around, forming a ten-foot-diameter circle of fire in her wake. She halted, leaving a gap large enough to pass through. “Come here, pisky Queen, and prove you’re more than a human fraud.”

  Rose stared at the tongues of flame leaping from the marble floor and wet her parched lips. Her whole body throbbed with her heart. Would she burn? Or would her fairy blood protect her? Even if she weren’t injured, it would hurt.

  “Don’t go,” Jacca said, and started to move in front of her.

  “I’m half fairy. Theoretically, I should be okay.”

  He frowned. “You’re human as well.”

  “And it hurts like crap,” Michael added.

  They both cared about her. Probably more than anyone other than her mother had ever cared. Except for Niall. She was certain he cared, despite his behavior. The connection between them when they’ made love had been…bliss. Rose reached out a tentative psychic touch and sensed something cold, hard, and impenetrable. He was close. Would he come if she needed him? Rose blinked back tears and laid a hand on Michael’s arm. “Thanks for speaking up for me. Y o u were very brave.”

  Michael grimaced. “If I’d known she’d go hurting me, I’d have kept me trap shut.”

  She squeezed his arm, met the glint of concern in his eyes, and made herself smile. “You’re brave, believe me. And I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.”

  Michael covered her hand with his. “I’d say let’s make a run for it, but ’tis not an option.”

  “I’ll make it an option,” Jacca said.

  Rose scanned the packed hall. She glimpsed the vicious anticipation on Ciar’s face and knew Michael was right: if she didn’t pass this test, Ciar wouldn’t let any of them go.

  Fear quivered inside her as she stared into Jacca’s silver eyes. “Promise you’ll try to free the troop for me if I can’t.”

  He blinked as if it hurt, then took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “You can count on me.”

  Her gaze fluttered to the ring of fire, then back to Michael. She tried to give him a smile, but it felt tight, like a grimace. “I’m going to pass this test, but just in case…” Tears tightened her throat and she swallowed them back. “Just in case something goes wrong, tell Niall I love him.”

  Before either of the men could say more, Rose walked forward, head high, placing one foot in front of the other by sheer force of will. She clenched her teeth to still her trembling lips and entered the ring of fire. As soon as she was inside, Ciar took three more dainty steps, sealing the flaming circle.

  Wheeling around, Rose searched for a spot where the flames were weaker, but the blaze was even. She’d heard of people walking over hot coals unscathed. If she jumped through the fire quickly, it couldn’t be too bad.

  She clenched and released her fists, psyching herself up. Come on, woman. Courage. Through the shimmering heat of the fire, Michael’s and Jacca’s encouraging smiles looked like a mirage.

  “Hurry up and I’ll reward you with a kiss,” Michael shouted. He beckoned her, frantically waving his arms. Where was Niall? If he were on the other side calling her, she’d be through in a heartbeat.

  God. Stop wasting time. She slapped her thighs, chewing her lip. She could do this. Rose took a step toward the flames. Then another. She drew a calming breath, filling her lungs with the hot air. As she approached the blazing wall, the heat grew nearly unbearable. Ignore it. Do it quickly. Jump. Rose leaned on her back foot as if preparing for a high jump. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ciar raise her hands. The flames roared, doubling in intensity.

  The bitch. Rose scooted back to the middle of the circle and shielded her face. The bitter stench of burning hair filled her nose. A searing knot of terror pulsed in her chest, sizzling around her icy heart. She’d believed she’d come through this alive, but now the fire was too hot to jump through.

  She was a coward. She’d let all her people down. “Niall.” She screamed his name, hoping he was near. They’ parted so angrily, but that didn’t matter anymore. She wanted him. More than anything else in the world, she just wanted him.

  The heat stung her exposed skin. Sinking to her knees, she covered her head with her hands. With a crackling burst, the fire became even more ferocious, sucking the oxygen out of the circle. Her eyes watered; her lips dried and cracked. Unless she got out, she would be cooked alive.

  Why hadn’t she gone back to London when she had the chance? Left the fairy stuff to fairies? She was just an accountant.

  No, she was more than human, but her human half was going to be her downfall. Not because she’d burn, but because she’d hung on to her humanity and denied her true identity. Rose pressed her palms against her eyes and wobbled onto her feet.

  Niall. She screamed his name in her head. Don’t give up on
me. I love you. If she’d really believed in herself, running the light with Niall would have worked. She took a step toward the fire. She wouldn’t give Ciar the satisfaction of watching her die like an animal, curled up, petrified of the fire. She must escape and give herself the chance to live the life she’d really been born to.

  Rose faced the roaring flames and braced herself to run.

  Niall leaped onto the massive round walnut table in the dining room and dropped into a fighting stance. Gripping a blade in each hand, he watched Troy raise a weary brow, shake his head, and jump up to face him. Niall attempted to follow his precombat routine, quiet his mind, ready his body, but agonizing images of Nightshade touching Rose blocked everything else. A red haze circled his vision, screamed in his brain. Revenge.