Emerald Fire (A Blushing Death Novel Book 6)

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Emerald Fire (A Blushing Death Novel Book 6) Page 8

by Suzanne M. Sabol


  He gave me a smile, small and still unsure but it chased the gloom from his navy eyes. “Okay.”

  “Ev, can you take the tray of drinks out? I need to talk to Konstantin,” I said, handing him the tray.

  “Sure.”

  I turned and strode to the French doors leading out. Konstantin followed into the darkness, a silent sentinel at my back. The soft glow of solar pathway lights gave everything an angelic blue sheen. Konstantin closed the door behind him and the click of the lock thundered in my ears as a heavy silence settled between us.

  “I assume you heard the conversation,” I said.

  “About going back to Faerie?” he said, sounding almost sad.

  “Yes.”

  Sorrow etched deep in the lines across his brow and the stiff set of his shoulders made my gut tighten with regret.

  “I’m sorry to put so much on your shoulders,” I said. He was mine, just as much as Milagra was mine, and guilt made what I was about to do difficult.

  “It isn’t that, My Queen,” he said, bowing his head as his shoulders slumped.

  “What is it then?” I asked with a kindness in my voice that wouldn’t have been there several years ago. I was different. These people had changed me in ways I could never have imagined. Just as often as I thought they’d changed me for the worse, something would happen and I’d realize it was for the better too.

  “Faerie was not kind to me—” he said with a reluctance that said how hard that admission had been. By his hooded expression and the stiff lines of his shoulders, I knew this was perhaps the worst thing I could ask him to do. No matter how guilty I felt, I was still going to ask him to do it. He and Milagra were our best chance.

  “I understand.” When he wouldn’t meet my gaze, I said, “Look at me, Konstantin.” I wanted him to see my eyes, to know I meant what I said, and that I wasn’t asking this of him lightly. “Patrick and I need this for a couple of reasons. First, you represent Patrick and have a special connection from the blood oath with him that Milagra does not share with Dean. The wolves will not have access to Faerie in the same way and we need to know what’s going on there.”

  Konstantin nodded, his large dark eyes still boring into me as if searching for an answer I hadn’t yet given him.

  “Second,” I said with a firm voice. “Don’t mistake our intentions. Something isn’t right with the fae and I want to know what. I worry about her,” I said, glancing over my shoulder to the two women huddled together in my living room. “She’s been so wrapped up in her own survival for so long, she doesn’t see the mechanisms working around her. She thinks she’s safe with them.”

  “Milagra?”

  “Yes. But Milagra still thinks of Riona as she did at the age of 11. None of us are the same after Likho’s castle. Only Pack. Only Colony can be trusted.”

  “You speak of us all together but we are two different groups of beings. One cannot trust the other,” Konstantin said.

  I watched him for a very long moment, staring up into deep brown eyes that had seen more pain and disappointment than any man should.

  “Do you trust Milagra?”

  “With my life,” he responded instantly.

  “She is wolf and you are vampire, as are Alex and Niyati. We are a family, all of us. You are part of our family. We would protect you as we do her. There is no difference in my eyes,” I said.

  “Thank you,” he said, dropping to one knee before me.

  Really? Why did people keep doing that? It creeped me out.

  “Keep your eyes open, your ears open, and watch her back as well as your own. Once you’ve crossed over, her protection is in your hands,” I whispered to him.

  “I understand, My Queen,” he said, forcing his shoulders back and holding his head high. “I will do my best to be sure we both come back to you alive and well.”

  “I expect nothing less of you.”

  “I will be sad to leave here.” He scanned the back yard, the sky, and the house before finally meeting my gaze. “I have been happy here.”

  “You will be back,” I said, grabbing his hand in mine and squeezing “Relay all you hear, important or not.”

  He loved Milagra, had for a very long time, and the desperation in his dark eyes told me he would do anything for her, even sacrifice himself. He was doing just that by going back into Faerie.

  Konstantin bowed at the waist and retreated back in the house, leaving the French doors open. Dean stood on the other side, watching and listening to everything. As Konstantin passed, he said, “Can you anchor Milagra?”

  “Gaoh?” Konstantin asked, obviously confused at Dean’s request.

  “She needs your strength before the memories overwhelm her and the euphoria of her reunion wears off,” I finished for Dean.

  “She hates him still,” Konstantin offered. “She cries when she believes no one is watching. She believes Saeran never searched for her, abandoned her to Likho’s cruelty.”

  “Can’t say for sure what he did,” Dean said. His bright, Caribbean blue eyes shimmered in the darkness, reflecting the anger of his wolf at Milagra’s pain and suffering.

  “It almost doesn’t matter. The hurt is there regardless,” I said, understanding all too well the suffering and hurt a parent could cause. Konstantin nodded and closed the French doors behind him as he left.

  “Feel better?” Dean asked.

  “Yeah,” I said on a breath, releasing some of the tension from my body.

  “They want to talk about Ciro,” he said, nodding over his shoulder toward the rest of the house. “You up for it?”

  “Do I have a choice?” I whined.

  The corner of his full, kissable lips turned up at the corners just a little but it was enough to send my pulse racing through me.

  “Not really,” he answered, sounding happy.

  I wondered when the last time he had been genuinely happy was? When was the last time Patrick had been really happy? What would happen if I couldn’t keep it up, keep them both content? It didn’t matter. We were happy now. Now was all that mattered.

  “That’s pretty much what I thought,” I huffed in resignation. “All right, that’s one train on track. Only about a thousand more to set in motion.”

  “Toot-toot,” Dean said in a deadpan voice that made me snort in laughter.

  Chapter 12

  “Ciro has finally noticed the fae no longer side with him,” Saeran said hotly. His multicolored hair swung loose down his back as he paced across the living room. His hands were clasped at the small of his back, turning the moss-colored skin over his knuckles a pale green from tension.

  “What caused his sudden realization?” Patrick asked, lounging comfortably on the sofa as if none of this was very trying.

  I stood next to him along the arm of the sofa, envying his calculated cool demeanor. His power was an arctic wind, chilling the top layer of my flesh, so nothing scary, not yet. His confidence sat easy in the pit of my stomach, calming my racing heart. It sure as hell made me feel better when Patrick was confident and on top of his game.

  “We did not attend his annual Death Day Celebration,” Riona scoffed from her perch on the window seat in the bay window. Her back straight and her chin high, a vision of haughty indifference. And I just wanted to punch her in the face for it.

  “He always was an overly dramatic bastard,” Alex sneered with distaste.

  “Has he contacted you? Made any demands?” Patrick asked, ignoring Alex’s outburst.

  “He has,” Saeran said, finally standing still. “He has demanded an explanation of our absence and our presence at his council meeting at the new moon.”

  “Or what?” I asked.

  “I don’t understand,” Riona scoffed. Her face scrunched up in disgust like I’d stepped in dog shit and
was tracking it all over the house. It was my house, she could shove it. Riona irked me and I couldn’t put my finger on why but I had the urge to bloody her. Go figure.

  “You do what he wants or what?” I asked.

  I lived in a world of threats and demands. If you didn’t make good on them, they weren’t worth the breath to say them. Riona clearly didn’t understand the cost/benefit analysis of threatening people and of following through on them.

  “The threat was not expressed but it was implied. A threat nonetheless,” she snipped back at me. She really didn’t like me either and I got a warm fuzzy feeling all over from that knowledge.

  “This will push up our time table if Ciro decides to advance,” Patrick added.

  Patrick was ignoring Riona and me. He was too smart and too observant to be oblivious to a power play going on right under his nose. The heat prickling along my skin was Dean’s power surging across my body at Patrick’s comment. From Dean’s reaction I knew that Patrick hadn’t been speaking to me.

  “We’ll be ready,” Dean huffed, his tone annoyed.

  “Ciro has much at his disposal,” Riona said, almost chastising us. She held herself too straight, too stiff, and breathed in and out in a controlled manner that kept her heart rate down. The fae had too many secrets for my liking, too slippery by half. Milagra and Konstantin in Faerie with their eyes on everything seemed like a better decision all the time.

  Riona watched Saeran as if she didn’t want him out of her sight. Aoife, however, sitting next to her seemed the picture of calm. They were both beautiful, one a tree—strong and serene—the other, a storm on the horizon.

  “You fear him,” I whispered in realization.

  “I fear no parasite,” Riona snapped with a flash of venom.

  Thunder cracked outside from a clear summer night’s sky and the wild tickle of fae magic breathed across my body. I glanced out the window and then back at Riona, cocking my eyebrow in question.

  “Careful, Your Majesty, your prejudices are showing,” I patronized.

  “How dare you?” Riona hissed.

  I reached down for the gun in the holster at the small of my back. The fae queen pulsed her magic through the room, making my skin prickle with the flare of mischief.

  “Baby, don’t push it,” Dean growled as her magic touched him.

  I could almost see the haunches of his wolf rise in aggression at her threat.

  “She insults us,” Alex bit out.

  “I’m sure we can discuss this,” Patrick soothed. His voice filled with his vampiric powers, intending to calm everyone down.

  I was calm. Very, very, calm. Maybe that was the problem.

  “Yes, of course. I’m sure my lovely queen did not intend to offend anyone. Especially when you and The Blushing Death have been so gracious as to grant Milagra such an important and mutually beneficial assignment,” Saeran said, nodding. Not quite a bow but definitely showing some deference to Patrick and myself. I could read between the lines just as well as anyone, especially Riona. Telling the Queen of Faerie to shut the fuck up probably came with consequences. A war with the fae was not in our best interests, at this time.

  Riona breathed deep, filling her slender chest with air. Her jaw tightened and her gaze narrowed on me with contempt.

  “We are friends, Saeran. We have been through too much to let petty misunderstandings come between us and our vision,” Patrick said.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Saeran answered, the muscles along his jaw jumping at Patrick’s tone. “Do not concern yourself with Ciro or his threats. I will address him personally.”

  “The North American Sidhe is now under my protection,” Patrick enunciated, making it perfectly clear who was more powerful between the two. “I will deal with Ciro. It is my responsibility to protect all under my purview.”

  “You are too gracious,” Saeran said with a touch of sarcasm.

  I didn’t dislike Saeran. I just didn’t trust him. I’d grown too much like Dean. If a person wasn’t one of us, they couldn’t be trusted. Maybe one day the Sidhe would be one of us, maybe not.

  “Were there other matters to discuss?” Patrick asked, stretching his arms along the back of the sofa where he sat, the picture of sophisticated calm.

  “When will my Milagra be permitted to enter Faerie?” Saeran asked, his gaze darting from Patrick to Dean who stood at his back between the living room and den.

  “Soon,” Dean growled.

  “The exact time table is still uncertain but we will not delay it any longer than necessary.” Patrick’s tone was firm and final.

  “Aoife will remain.”

  “As a messenger, if needed,” Aoife added, her soft lilting voice a placating calm in the political storm brewing in an increasingly shrinking room.

  “We will make sure her every need is met,” Patrick said, inclining his head toward the breathtakingly stunning woman. “Alex, could you see to Aoife’s accommodations?”

  “Consider it done,” she almost cooed.

  Saeran nodded once, reluctantly accepting that control had neatly been plucked from his grasp.

  “If there is nothing else . . .” Patrick said, his expression full of superiority.

  “No,” Saeran bit out. “We have concluded our pertinent business. All other matters can be tabled.” He stepped forward, holding out his hand for his wife. “Riona, My Queen, it is time we leave for home.” His tone had become much more formal in the last few moments, his shoulders rigid with the tension that set his square jaw to stone.

  The Queen of Faerie rose, her long, lithe form moving as if made from liquid silk. She placed her pale hand in his and both strode from the living room, their entourage following in a single-file line.

  We remained quiet until the tingle of fae magic dissipated from the air and I was sure they were well and truly gone.

  “What were you doing?” Dean snarled at me.

  “What?” I asked, sounding a little too innocent, even for me. I’m not sure I’d ever been innocent.

  “Do not try and play coy,” Patrick said with a sexy little half-smile. “As adorable as the attempt is, you are not capable of such pretense.”

  “Fine,” I capitulated. They were right anyway. “Ev couldn’t pick out their scents, one from the other. They were using a spell to mask themselves,” I said, plopping down on the couch next to Patrick. “I wanted to know why.”

  “So you started picking,” Dean said, trying to hide his smile.

  “To get her blood flowing,” I said.

  “Why Riona?” Patrick ran his fingers through my hair. I almost purred in contentment.

  “I know what Saeran and Fergal smell like,” Ev offered for me.

  “Process of elimination,” I finished.

  “And what, Sweetheart, did you find?” Patrick asked, sliding his fingers down my neck like cool fire shooting through my veins.

  “Whatever magic they used to mask their scents didn’t alter with the added adrenaline,” I groaned.

  “Why hide?” Dean growled.

  “I do not know,” Patrick answered.

  “If Baba Yaga is planning something and one of those fae are with her, I don’t know that we can win.” I said, feeling Baba Yaga’s darkness percolate in my blood. It ran hot until the tips of my fingers burned to let it out.

  “There’s that licorice scent again,” Patrick whispered next to my ear as he stroked his fingers through my hair.

  “I can’t seem to control it,” I groaned, breathing deep and reaching for any magic that wasn’t tied to the ancient witch.

  “How long until the full moon,” Patrick asked Dean, rather abruptly.

  “Four days.”

  “How long until we’re ready?” Patrick turned to Alex, still in the doorway
.

  “Two days, three at the most,” she answered.

  “We’re running out of time,” Dean growled.

  Patrick gazed at me and dismantled the shield we both kept up between us so the empathic bond we shared didn’t swallow us whole. Instantaneously, I was flooded with his love for me, his fear for all of us, and his certainty. He was very confident this path was the only one left to us and it was the right one.

  “With Ciro, Isidro, the Lebensblut board, Baba Yaga nipping at our heels, and whomever is animating corpses around town, we need all the power we can generate,” Alex said, sounding almost defeated. I’d never heard her defeated, not even when Midnight Ash had threatened to kill us all. Pissed. Yes. Defeated. Never.

  “Isidro?” Patrick snapped. “Isidro Grimaldi?”

  “Yes,” Alex answered simply.

  “He’s the one I’ve been catching around town for a few days now.”

  “This is a wrinkle we don’t need.”

  “Who is he?” Dean asked.

  “He’s a member of the Lebensblut board and if he’s in town gathering intelligence on us”—Patrick turned to me with obsidian eyes brimming with malice—“on her. Then we are most definitely running out of time. He will have a plan. The Game Maker never moves without knowing he can win.”

  “Okay,” I said simply. “No more procrastinating.”

  “Does this mean you agree to become my servant?” he asked with too much excitement.

  “In name only!” I snapped, teasing. “You know I serve no one!”

  “Of course,” he said. His eyes lit with an emotion I couldn’t describe. Pride. Joy. Excitement. Eagerness. The combination turning his usually austere face into a boyish grin was breathtaking.

 

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