“I…” She blinked, obviously startled by the question. “He told me to find you.”
“Who?” He approached the car warily. “What do you know?”
“Please, get in the car. I promise I’ll tell you, but hurry.” She glanced behind her, her fear so obvious he was reaching for the handle before he even realized. “I don’t know how far behind me they are.”
“Who?” Damn it. Why wouldn’t she tell him?
“Get in!” She leaned over and pushed the door open, her panic so real, so consuming, he had no choice but to do as she asked. He climbed into the passenger seat, ignoring her sigh of relief, and buckled the seat belt as she took off into the cold, dark night.
He gave her a few minutes to calm herself before he began his questions. She knew what was going on, that much was clear, and something in him demanded he trust her on some level. Whether she was worthy of his complete trust remained to be seen, but he decided to heed his instincts until she proved herself unworthy.
He frowned, the certainty that she would do just that ratcheting through him. Had she betrayed him in the past? Was that why he was both drawn to and loath to spend time with her? “Tell me what’s going on.”
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but her attention remained where it should, on the icy roads. “A seer sent me for you. He told me where to find you.” He jumped, that term bringing back odd feelings, some pleasant, some not. “I’m to bring you to him as quickly as possible, but I’ve been told only to reveal what happened to you in bits and pieces.”
“Why?”
“It has something to do with why you’ve lost your memory, and how to return it to you with the least amount of injury possible.” She shrugged. “I can sense the damage the poison has done, but the effects are complicated to heal. If I try to do it all at once, I could do irreparable harm to your psyche.” She patted his knee, her touch inflaming him. Such a simple thing, yet his cock had hardened instantly. “I give you my word I will get you to Shane safely.”
Shane. He jolted at that name. Another familiar, unremembered name.
Something about her tone, the odd, echoing quality, shivered through him. An oath, then, and binding. The tingle of…magic?…reassured him as nothing else could.
“Who are you?”
She grimaced. “Cassie. I’m…a friend.”
Somehow he doubted that. His reaction to her was far too visceral for mere friendship. “Who am I?”
Again, that sideways glance, that glimpse of turquoise beautiful, haunting. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.” This was it, the moment she would lie and betray him.
She bit her lip before sighing. “Your name is Oberon.”
Oberon. That name, so familiar, settled around him like a cloak. Yes. He was Oberon, and he was…something more as well. Damn it. Whoever had poisoned him would pay dearly. “My last name?”
“I don’t know it. No one does. You never speak it.”
That was odd, but he’d let it go for now. It certainly proved they were not friends. Any friend of his would be gifted with his surname.
Right?
He frowned. Gifted? Why would that, rather than his first name, be considered the gift? “Where are we headed?”
She grinned, her whole face going from plain to utterly devastating. Such a smile could blind the sun. “Nebraska.”
“Why there? Why not Kansas, or Oklahoma?”
“Because the man who can help you most is there. In the meantime, relax. I’ve got you now, and I’ll keep you safe.”
Oberon scowled. “I think not. Despite my lack of memory, I am perfectly capable of defending myself.” He knew that without a doubt. He could sense the magic, potent and intoxicating, answering the call of his will.
“But would you know who to defend yourself from?” She shook her head, her brows lowering, that blistering smile gone. In its place was an equally dazzling determination. “No. Let me deal with the bad guys. You heal, work on getting your memories back.” She glanced around, taking the off-ramp to some highway that seemed vaguely familiar. “I can take care of things for now.”
He very much doubted it if the fear that flashed across her face again was anything to go by. Whoever was after him, had poisoned him, must be very dangerous for her to fear them more than she did him.
Oberon braced himself against the window, the car’s heater finally driving the chill from his skin. “How did you break your nose?”
She shrugged. “I was healing someone, and he accidentally hurt me. It happens sometimes.”
“Getting your nose broken?”
“Getting hurt by a patient.”
He wanted so desperately to reach out and stroke the broken bridge, to see if there was pain though he knew, deep down, there was not. “Why not heal it?”
“It’s a lot harder to heal yourself than it is someone else.” She patted his arm, putting the questions to an end. “Rest now. You need it.”
As if he could. He kept a covert eye on the rearview mirror, ready to do whatever it took to make sure Cassie remained unharmed. The thought of her bleeding, wounded, fueled an astonishing rage within him. The wind outside the car picked up, Cassie growling and gripping the wheel tighter as she fought the elements. Strong though she might be, he suspected there was very little she would be able to do against his enemies in a real fight. It was up to him to make sure the strange, alluring woman did not come to harm.
Oberon would protect her, whether either of them wished it or not.
“Call Lord Raven MacSweeney to us.”
Raven nodded once to Harold, the Gray Court’s majordomo, as the summons came, the man sweeping open the door at the sound of Robin Goodfellow’s command. The courtiers appeared stunned as Raven swept into the room and bowed before the throne. “My liege.”
Robin Goodfellow, aka the Hob, nodded once to Raven.
The Hob stood tall and proud before a throne he’d never been meant to take. The Goodfellows were warriors, not rulers, but Oberon must have chosen Robin as his regent for a reason. As scary as the Dark Queen was, even she was frightened of the Hob. If anyone could stop her from making a move on the White or Gray courts, it would be him.
And she had good reason to be afraid of the Hob. Raven hid his shudder at the memory of the…thing his father had become when Michaela had nearly died.
Raven wasn’t frightened by much, but that pulsing, amorphous ball of pure, sharp-edged fury had terrified him. His father had become the living embodiment of chaos, the swirling mass of anger and pain vibrating with death and destruction. Only his eyes, those glowing, green eyes had remained centered within the pulsating cloud, constant, furious and deadly.
Raven had wanted to piss his pants. Anything that touched that sphere without permission would die in horrible agony, ripped apart both from within and without. He’d watched his father destroy the man who had almost killed Michaela Goodfellow, tearing him apart piece by tiny, blood-soaked piece.
He’d seen some pretty hellish things during his time with the Black Court, but the each uisge’s screams still haunted his nightmares more than any other.
But now Robin stood before him in his human Seeming, his healed mate by his side. The crown of the High King was perched on his head, marking him as the Prince Regent. “Your oath, if it pleases you.”
Raven took a deep breath, ready to sever all ties to the Black Court. It was beyond time, and the Dark Queen would feel his wrath as he gave his allegiance to the Gray. Unfortunately, there had not been time to bring Raven before Oberon as planned, therefore Raven would give his oath to Robin as the Regent. It would be equally binding, and the courtiers would be forced to accept it.
Raven knelt before the throne, aware his life was about to change forever more. The Dark Queen would hunt him now with all-consuming fury, eager to des
troy the man she’d once lain with. His betrayal would ensure it.
He stared up at his father, the point where he could change his mind long gone. The moment Robin accepted Raven as his own, the moment Raven had known his mother had died, had cemented his fate. Raven gave his oath with all his might, praying it burned the Dark Queen’s ass. “I hereby renounce all ties to the Black Lady, Queen Titannia—”
The court’s whispers intensified at that name as his father winced ever so slightly. Raven barely saw it, and only because he was staring straight at the Hob.
Interesting.
“Queen of the Black Court, Lady of the Unseelie. I declare myself Oberon’s man from this day forth, in honor and in faith, having no other oaths to forswear. By the gods, I pledge my loyalty to the Gray Court, High King Oberon and his descendants. I declare myself the sworn servant of the Gray Lord, High King Oberon, King of the Gray Court, Lord over the Fae. I pledge my sword and my honor to uphold the laws of the Court. I and my house will abide by the laws handed down by the High King. I will faithfully perform all services required by Crown and Court. So swear I, Lord Raven MacSweeney.”
Robin’s eyes twinkled as Michaela nodded beside him, a serene smile on her face. “I, Prince Robin Goodfellow, the acting Gray Lord, Lord of the Fae, hereby hear your oaths and accept them in the name of Crown and Court and High King Oberon. I declare you our loyal servant, sworn to our bidding. From this day forth my sword shall defend you, my magic protect you and my wrath be mighty should you fail of your duty.” Raven hoped his father didn’t see the fear he tried desperately to hide. “All former oaths to the Black are hereby null and void, by my power as Prince Regent. So swear I, Robin Goodfellow, the Hobgoblin.”
Raven shivered as the weight of the oath’s magic settled over him. He was now Gray Court, bound to Oberon, and thus to Robin.
“I hereby recruit you into the Blades, Lord Raven. Do you accept?”
“I do.” Raven’s blue eyes flashed green for just a second. He’d hoped his father would recruit him into the Blades. Ruthless, cunning, brutal and subtle all at once, Oberon’s Knights were whatever they needed to be.
The position would suit him to a T.
“Very good. Now.” Robin steepled his fingers together and stared at Raven with a vaguely amused expression. Michaela laid her hand on his knee, her gaze serene despite the whispers of the courtiers who surrounded the Gray Throne.
The man was up to something, something that didn’t seem to faze his mate in the slightest.
Robin smirked, either aware of the direction of Raven’s thoughts or just to fuck with the people watching them. Raven was willing to bet it was both. It’s what he would have done, after all. “I have a job for you.”
Of course he did. Raven stood and grinned, knowing what was coming and looking forward to the challenge. He’d prove himself to Robin, and the court, and repay his father’s belief in him. “Find the High King, my prince?”
Robin’s grin was vicious, his blue-eyed gaze glazing over with green light. It was a look Raven knew all too well. “Exactly.”
“Prince Robin, you can’t expect an ex-Black Court to—”
Robin languidly waved his hand and silence fell over the Gray Court as his power rolled through the room. Not one fae present could bear the heat of the Hob’s anger, his fury sweeping over them and driving most to their knees. Surprisingly, only Lord Blackthorn remained on his feet. Even his mates, Duncan and Moira, were driven to their knees.
A flash of green in Blackthorn’s eyes gave Raven the surprising answer to why he remained standing. Somehow, the vampire was blood of his blood, a part of Robin’s family.
Shit. Now he’d have to be nice to the fucker.
“My son, my Blade, will find the High King, and take his rightful name of Goodfellow.”
Raven bit back a shocked gasp at his father’s pronouncement. “Father?” He hadn’t expected that level of acknowledgement, not openly. Hell, he’d given his oath as a MacSweeney.
Robin winked. “It was your stepmother’s idea.”
Raven grimaced. Not once had he ever thought of Michaela Goodfellow as anything but the woman he’d lost. Michaela made a stunning Tuatha Dè Danaan, and Raven mourned that he hadn’t been the one to meet her first. He would have loved to experience her passion just once before her truebond swept her off her feet, but his father had not only found her, but claimed her.
Raven would have hated him for that, except Robin had claimed him as well, declaring Raven his son to anyone who would stand still and listen, and even some who wouldn’t. It was a heady experience, being wanted. Growing up in the Black Court hadn’t exactly been Lovapaloosa. His mother had been too terrified to defy the Dark Queen, leaving her son to the not-so-tender mercies of the court.
She had been the only bright spot in his life, and now she was dead. Raven wanted the Dark Bitch’s blood for that alone.
At least his father could keep Michaela safe, even in the shark-infested waters of the court. But he bit back his first, bitter reply, aware Robin was not fooled for a moment. The man saw far too much for Raven’s comfort. “I am honored, Father.”
Robin leaned forward, his gaze blazing with green light. “Find our king. Find out what that bitch is up to, and stop her. Bring him back safely to me, my son.”
Raven saw the fear in Robin’s eyes, and wondered. What was the relationship between Robin and Oberon? Rumors, thick and black as tar, had slithered through the Dark Court for centuries. “I will, my prince.” Raven shivered. The consequences if he did not find Oberon didn’t bear thinking on. His father had been kind…so far. But the Hob was not known for his kindness, and his son paled at the thought of failing him. “I will.” He closed his eyes, and finished the vow silently.
Or I will die trying.
Chapter Two
Gods above, she couldn’t believe it. She had Oberon in her car.
Oberon.
How the hell was she supposed to keep him safe? He was the High King, more powerful than anyone, even the Hob. He could decimate whole armies, command even her parents to bow down before him. The Black Queen and the White both loved and hated him, not that he cared. From what she’d seen and heard, the Gray Lord was ice cold through and through.
Even now, when he was without his memories, that icy, regal air hadn’t diminished one bit. He accepted her commands simply because he wished to do so. If he’d fought her, refused to get in the car and allow her to take him to Shane, things would have been far different.
She shuddered, remembering the image Shane had once shown her. Oberon, his face cast in black glass, his expression ugly, hungry.
Fanged.
He’d had fangs, and she’d known. Two paths sat before the High King, and one of them led to him becoming the plaything of the Black Queen.
Cassie would do anything to prevent that from happening. Oberon, while cold, was a fair ruler, one who’d created a safe haven for those the other two courts had rejected. More and more White and Black Court citizens had turned to the Gray, giving allegiance to a king who would treat them the same as every other citizen. He had no favorites, unless you counted Robin Goodfellow, and had gone so far as to create the first clan run by a vampire, giving that race a clan they could finally call their own.
All of that paled beside the fact that the man was her truebond, the one being on earth who completed her. The contracted mating she’d been running from was null and void once she contacted her parents and let them know what had happened. A truebond always trumped an arranged mating, period, but only if it was completed. So until she bore Oberon’s mark, she was still bound by the contract.
Oh, she doubted her parents would be happy. They’d been far too eager to hand her over to the Pacifica court, the ugly duckling daughter who’d never fit in with the others. She’d overheard her father more than once accuse her mother of cheating on him,
but Cassie knew the truth. She was the spitting image of her great-great-grandmother on her father’s side, the woman most of the court of Atlantis considered one of the most controversial queens to ever have ruled. It had been a truebond between the daughter of a selkie and the King of Atlantis. Confined to the palace, she’d been denied the ability to drop her Seeming and swim with the court, her lower status considered a blight on the royal family. She’d been shunned, mocked and attacked more than once. Only the love of her truebond had kept her in the underwater city of Atlantis.
In the end, not even that had been enough. She’d pined away, lost to the hatred of her court, taking the King with her. The court of Atlantis, who’d denied the truebond between them, had been shocked by the loss, but refused to grieve. The man placed in charge of raising her children and grandchildren had seen to it that they felt shame at their selkie heritage. Her children and grandchildren had denied her selkie blood until all but her immediate descendants forgot that she’d never been a siren at all.
Cassie refused to do that. She, and she alone, remembered the Selkie Queen, and honored her. She knew what it was like to be different, shunned, and refused to bow to the dictates of the court. It was why she’d run rather than accept the arranged marriage, willing to forfeit her immortality rather than become a pawn in her parent’s political games.
“Tell me what happened to me.”
Gods, the man was stubborn. “I can tell you a spell was cast on you, probably through something you ate or drank while you were in a weakened state.” And she knew exactly what had caused such a powerful man to become susceptible to that kind of spell. He’d gifted Robin Goodfellow’s mate with his own power, not only returning her to life but marking her as of his bloodline. She glowed now, her mortal shell shed, her silver hair and golden eyes standing out when she dropped her human Seeming.
As a healer, Cassie knew that what Oberon had done was only possible because somewhere in Michaela’s ancestry a fae had lain with one of her family members and gotten her with child. In truth, her whole family could become fae, with the right touch.
Siren's Song: The Gray Court, Book 5 Page 2