by L. A. Banks
Hunter and Shogun shared a look as the deadly silent court gave Kiagehul its full attention.
“My love knew your weaknesses from your sister, Lei, before she died, Shogun. Lady Jung Suk, as you recall, was shunned by your self-righteous lineage. Don’t pretend to be shocked. She told me the whole story of how, just because her own Snow Leopard father never stuck around to legitimize her lineage in the clan, leaving your grandmother temporarily disgraced until the baby could be sent back to the mountains as a stillbirth and an acceptable royal marriage could be arranged, your people acted as though Lady Jung Suk didn’t exist. They called her a stillbirth, but she is very much alive. Southeast Asian Were politics are always complex, I suppose . . . but please do not act as if you are a sudden stranger to political expediency and mitigating scandals.”
“We will find her and bring her to justice, too,” Shogun said, his voice containing a low, threatening promise. “She was given a lineage allowance—but that was obviously not enough for the twisted and ambitious evil thing she’s become.”
“She, like me, was a hybrid,” Kiagehul said with a satisfied smile, “a being caught between worlds, and she knew what it was to live in shunned duality—it was easy to trick Sir Rodney; he, like Shogun, is arrogant. Who would suspect Kennan MacDougall, the faithful, the overlooked, on errands to do the king’s bidding? I was a step ahead of you at every turn, because, as your investigation progressed, I received full reports and knew how best to hide, and when to increase my magick to turn up the maddening heat. Even Sir Rodney’s top advisors were blind to the malcontent within your own court! It was no different than Shogun’s blindness, thinking he could shun his aunt, thinking there’d be no consequences, sharing nothing but the crumbs from his table with her . . . She is perfect . . .”
Kiagehul’s gaze roved over the stunned courtroom before it returned to his queen’s rigid back. “I, alone, would have broken Sir Rodney’s court, as well as the Wolf Federations. My Lady Jung Suk would have had her body restored into whatever nubile young one she chose—perhaps Sasha Trudeau’s . . . Yes, yes, I would have accomplished that for her, once it was all complete . . . And I would have been able to support her, since I would have been wealthier than my wildest dreams—Vampires would have owed us, my queen. Had this unfortunate turn of events not occurred, I would have also had revenge on the baron for killing my family member . . . Dugan.”
Rubbing his hands together with insane glee, Kiagehul turned to the Vampire box, mocking Elder Vlad. “I would have set Baron Geoff Montague up to take the fall—his arrogance also made him blind enough to discount me . . . What Vampire would think that a small Unseelie, low in the court, would craft such a plan to hang him out to dry? I was almost successful, that counts for something—I still got his lair breached, ha! The she-Shadow still firebombed his Oasis!”
Kiagehul laughed a shrill, mad laugh and stared at the shocked baron. “You think that Vampires are the only ones to carry a grudge? We, the Unseelie, are remarkably known to redress an offense!” Kiagehul wiped his oily face. “What say you, Queen? Do you see my plan, how it could have helped your empire, as well as built one for me? It was all so perfect, had the wolves not been involved. Who knew Sir Rodney, a monarch, would break with Fae secrecy—he is the heretic, the blasphemer of our culture, not me!”
Queen Blatand turned and blew Kiagehul a kiss that immediately formed blades of ice in the air. The second she lowered her hand, the blades took off after him like heat-seeking missiles, severing his head from his shoulders. She looked at her advisors with the coldest blue eyes Sasha had ever seen.
“Sometimes, in the interest of alliances, there are sacrifices.” The queen turned to Elder Vlad and lifted her chin. “All of this jockeying for position was done without my express knowledge or consent, therefore I sacrifice the fool from my court. Outright war is costly.”
“Indeed,” Elder Vlad murmured, instantly sending a black lightning bolt toward a stunned Baron Montague to fry his black heart inside his chest cavity. “A new alliance, Your Majesty, requires that both parties put in equal weight. Consider the Vampire Cartel’s portion . . . several pounds of worthless, resource-squandering flesh. I am glad that we are of the same accord.”
“Good . . . We will hunt down this disembodied Snow Leopard together then, to clean up this unfortunate mess.” The queen smiled as the Elder Vampire gave her a gentlemanly nod.
No one moved or spoke for several minutes as the new alliance was clearly forged. Sasha looked at Hunter, then Shogun, her gaze finally locking with Sir Rodney’s. This wasn’t over by a long shot. Sasha shivered, feeling the chill in her bones left in the icy queen’s wake.
If anything, the Unseelie forging a power bloc with the Vampires—and both having lost face as well as key men—was going to mean they could all expect revenge to be served ice cold. That fact was as plain as day and written all over Sir Rodney’s worried face.
“I know,” Hunter murmured and squeezed her hand. “I’m bracing for winter.”
Finally, the gavel came out of hiding and timidly tapped on the bench.
“Court adjourned.”
Clarissa sat up with a gasp and began choking. Hospital staff immediately rushed to help Doc begin removing tubes from her throat while the rest of the team held Bradley up as he sobbed into the folds of her sheets.
“The general wants to have a meeting, ASAP,” Doc said with a smile.
“Yeah, I know . . . This was really, really bad.”
Sasha sprawled out in a chair in the lounge. The whole team was gathered around, except Bradley and Clarissa. Doc had insisted on them running a battery of tests and another series of CAT scans and MRIs before she could go home; Bradley wasn’t leaving her side for a minute.
But at one in the morning, Sasha was so tired that she could barely lift her head and was glad that Hunter’s quiet, solid presence remained just behind her. All the Shadows were in the room; she didn’t even have to open her eyes to feel them.
“But, since you’re still dark,” Doc said with a sigh, throwing up his hands and smiling. “And since tomorrow is your birthday, as well as the Seelie Fae ball . . . and under diplomatic circumstances, you really are supposed to take a team deep undercover to be sure all threats are secured . . .”
“Yes!” Winters whispered, and squeezed his eyes shut.
Sasha opened her eyes and glanced around at the expectant faces in the lounge. “Doc,” she said in a quiet, hopeful voice. “Are you serious?”
“What’s the general going to do, fire me?” Her secret father laughed and shook his head. “Then he’d have to hire me back as a supernatural consultant making ten times what I make now for the Feds . . . And, anyway, the real meeting isn’t until next week.”
Sasha leaned forward and hugged Doc. “What real meeting?”
“The one on Air Force One. Seems our new Commander-in-Chief is thoroughly fascinated by the concept of anything new—and they’ve even got a defibrillator on board for the general.”
EPILOGUE
There had been a solemn memorial to bury the slain Phoenixes and a full Fae wake and service for the soldiers that had fallen, and now the Sidhe was simply taking the wakes to the next level by celebrating the lives of those lost by making the Midsummer Night’s Ball an extension of it all.
This time, her suite was muted shades of forest green . . . And it had one lovely addition: Hunter. She smiled as he stood in front of the armoire on the opposite side of the room, with only a towel casually slung low around his hips, deciding.
“I’ve never worn a tuxedo in my life.” Hunter peered into it and held out the shirt. “C’mon, Sasha . . . French cuffs?”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she said, going over to the other armoire. “Just close the closet door, think about what you want, say it, and then reopen the door.”
“I cannot get used to a bewitched suite,” he said, dragging his fingers through his damp hair.
“Betcha it has som
e serious advantages . . . But get dressed,” she said, laughing as he looked at her over his shoulder. “Later, later; it would be too tacky not to go downstairs for a few hours.”
She turned back to the armoire to extract the little black dress she’d brought, and the only thing that was there was the gorgeous ensemble that had been there before. She let out a short huff of annoyance and then opened the white velvet box. But the note it contained made her smile.
This time I’m not under a dark spell and this gift is not for you, it’s for my friend, Hunter. You will look ravishing and I hope he takes full advantage of you tonight. Enjoy, my darling, and thank you for giving me my castle back and not making me go to war with my ex-wife.
Your friend and comrade in arms,
Sir Rodney.
Please accept my humble gift in the spirit of the Fae alliance.
She now understood why the ice queen had melted, even if for a moment; Sir Rodney was a living doll. She took her fashion loot behind a dressing screen, laughing as she felt her hair twist up into a bun and delicate brushes dust her face. “Oh, Sir Rodney,” she whispered, “you guys sure do bibbidi-bobbidi-boo the best.”
“What’s that, baby?” Hunter said from across the room.
“Nothing,” she called out, laughing. “Have you decided what you’re wearing yet?”
“No . . . Working on it. I don’t do fancy affairs; you know I’m a beef and beer kind of guy, Sa . . .” Hunter’s words trailed off as she stepped out from behind the screen. “. . . sha.”
“You like it?” She turned around and then beamed at him. She couldn’t help it, it was such a contrast with the normal her.
“You look . . . wow,” he said, at an obvious loss for words. “I’ll put on the tux.”
“You don’t have to.”
“No, seriously. I’ll put on the tux.”
The grand ballroom made her heady as she looked around. Despite the tensions and sad losses in the Seelie Court, people seemed to have come to bury the dead through celebration. Food and drink of all kinds were so plentiful that there was simply too much to choose from. Her guys were having the time of their lives, and it warmed her heart to see Clarissa all dolled up and in Bradley’s arms, dancing a waltz as though a thousand other beings weren’t in the same room with them. Those two had found that magical place all on their own.
Shogun had challenged Hunter to shots, and as she watched, the brothers laughed and talked to each other, while three very beautiful she-Werewolves openly vied for Shogun’s attention.
“May I fill your champagne glass, milady?” Rupert said with a humble smile.
“Thank you so much,” Sasha said, allowing him to pour. “In fact, thank you for everything.”
He bowed. “No, you are our guest of honor, thank you. It is nice to have the castle back and put to right with everybody’s head on straight . . . Well, except for those who’ve committed treason, but we shan’t discuss such nasty business on gorgeous Midsummer Night.”
She smiled and lifted her glass to him, but his change of focus over her shoulder made her turn.
“Might I redeem my former bad behavior by asking a lady for a dance?” Sir Rodney bowed, but then stepped back a little. “Unless that would be out of line and your life mate would take issue? I would not ever want to jeopardize such a firm alliance, nor make you feel uncomfortable”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Sasha murmured, handing Rupert her glass. “I would love to dance, and my life mate is having the time of his life.”
“Good,” Sir Rodney said, leading her out onto the dance floor, but holding her with a little space between their bodies. “Thank you for coming back to my castle for the ball. I thought I might have chased you off for good.”
“I’m harder to scare off than that,” she said, chuckling.
But as his face grew serious she began to worry.
“Thank you for wearing the dress and the shoes,” Sir Rodney said quietly, moving her around the dance floor and never missing a beat. “Happy birthday.”
“You really, really—”
“Ssssh . . . It’s all right. The enchantment that we were all under wasn’t wholly evil . . . it worked with what was always there. Hunter is a lucky man. Shogun and I are old enough and wise enough to remain friends and philosophical about some things . . . but do know that you are completely bewitching.”
They danced on for a bit in silence and then he looked down as the song almost ended. “I do hope that the truth doesn’t make you sad.” He smiled at her and inclined his head. “I am Fae . . . Shogun is a Werewolf, the room is bedazzled—we gentlemen shall recover.”
She laughed and shook her head.
“Enjoy your mate, Sasha. We all want what you two have . . . someone loyal and kind in our corner.”
He let her go with a gallant bow and was off to find a pretty damsel that was available. She stood where he’d left her for a long time and then suddenly she had the urge to find Hunter.
It wasn’t just a “huh, I wonder where he is” urge. It was something akin to panic that made her quicken her steps and dash across the ballroom floor. She found him joking around with Woods, Winters, and Fisher, and their newfound dates, talking about how Bear and Crow had abandoned him in the game of shots with Shogun and his men.
“Hey,” Hunter said, obviously feeling no pain. “I was wondering where you were.”
Sasha laughed and put her arm around his waist. “You won the bet with Shogun, I take it?”
Hunter threw his head back and howled, gaining howls and laughter from his men and all the other wolves in the ballroom. Fae gave him jaunty thumbs-up as he pulled her onto the dance floor.
“You having fun?” She stared up into his face and touched his jaw.
“The most fun I’ve had in a long time,” he said quietly and then kissed her.
She hadn’t expected it, wasn’t prepared for it, but was glad that he did it.
“We’re always working,” he said as he broke the kiss. “After what just went down in New Orleans, who knows when we’ll get to do this again . . . especially after you meet the president.”
“That’s why I’m glad you came . . . why we got to do this.”
She snuggled in close to him, breathing in his fantastic scent, not caring that it was laced with whatever Fae shots he’d done. She didn’t care if a tux was foreign to him—he looked damned good in it. Didn’t care if he was a man of few words and didn’t possess the eloquence of some of his rivals. He was hers and she was his.
“With all this insanity going on,” he said after a moment, nuzzling her hair, “I never got to get you a birthday present. I had it made . . . but never got to go back and get it. I know that sounds lame, but you know I am no liar. Baby, I’m sorry . . . Happy birthday anyway. I’ll make it up to you.”
“I know you are no liar,” she said, cupping his cheek and looking up into his eyes. “This, right now, you being alive and laughing and dancing the night away with me, is the best birthday present in the world.”
“There were a lot of times I didn’t think either one of us would make it . . . I feel like Bradley did at the hospital all the time. I just never tell you how broken I would be if you never came out of the shadows.”
She brushed his mouth with the pad of her thumb and inclined her head. “There’s a really big bank of shadows over there by the pillars. Wanna get out of here and really celebrate my birthday?”
A slow half smile tugged at his cheek as he spun her around and danced her into the nothingness.
Read on for an excerpt from the next book by
L. A. BANKS
NEVER CRY WEREWOLF
Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
Hunter stalked away from Sasha and punched the wall, taking out a huge chunk of plaster with his fist. “This is bullshit, Sasha—complete bullshit!”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” she said. She knew her apartment was being monitored. “Care to discuss thi
s somewhere else?”
She opened the coat closet door and said, “After you.”
Hunter shook his head. “Ladies first.”
Sasha stepped into the shadows within, and two seconds after they’d entered the Shadow Lands, “I cannot believe it! And the pure tragedy of it all is that you told me one day this would happen,” she shouted, walking a hot path back and forth in the misty cavern. That arrogant sonofabitch colonel they replaced me with—he’s going to get an entire squad slaughtered, not to mention however many innocent civvies in the streets of New Orleans!”
Sasha whirled on Hunter and folded her arms over her chest, breathing hard. “Go ahead. Say it. You told me so. Said that I couldn’t live a double life—being a part of a Shadow Wolf pack and being a part of the human military. Just go ahead and get it out once and for all.”
“First of all, I’m not the enemy.” Hunter looked at her, his eyes blazing. “I have no interest in saying those things to you, Sasha,” he added in a low tone. “My only interest is with those who have injured you. Give me their names—starting with the colonel.”
Sasha quickly realized that her mate had gone into hunt and protect mode. She held out her arms in front of her. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—I was just metaphorically talking about ripping out the guy’s throat.”
“And you know I don’t deal in metaphors, Sasha,” Hunter said in a low rumble. “Give me the bastard’s name, and I guarantee you he won’t ever disrespect the alpha mate of the North American Shadow Wolf Clan again.”
Perverse gratification flitted through her spirit for a moment, before logic overruled it. “Thank you,” she said, more calmly, now not nearly as enraged as she’d been. “But I can’t let you do that.”