“You’re the pixie from Ferra’s camp,” I said, and she nodded. “Will your wings heal?”
“They’ve healed as much as they will,” she replied, waving her hand as if the disfigured state of her wings hardly mattered.
“Why were they torturing you?” I remembered how she had been chained to a wooden plank, manacles around her wrists and metal spikes through her wings, and how I had used my ability to loosen her restraints. She had leapt into the air and flown away, and I hadn’t seen her since, not that I’d expected to, especially not dancing in a bar. Or rescuing us from yet another iron warrior.
“They did it because they are beasts,” she replied. “Filthy, reprehensible beasts. Iron warriors have taken many of my kind. I’m one of the few who ever returned home.”
Just when I thought the Iron Court couldn’t be any more terrible, I learned that they were trapping pixies like lightning bugs. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
She inclined her head. “Since you freed me, I’ve learned the metal warriors’ weakness, and how to exploit it. They’ll not trap me again. And I’ve told all I’ve encountered to spread the word of how the new Inheritor of Metal saved me, and how she will be the one to restore order amongst the Elementals.”
“I’m not the Inheritor,” I protested. “My sister, Sadie, is.”
Her brows furrowed. “But it was you who freed me, you who destroyed Ferra. Surely—”
“She’s right,” Max interrupted, levering himself to a sitting position. “Sadie, not Sara, is the Metal Inheritor.”
“No matter,” the pixie said. “I have owed you a favor since you freed me. We are now even.”
“I feel like I owe you now,” I said, but she shook her head furiously.
“In our world, it does not do to owe another,” she said. “If it pleases you, I will call on you if I am ever in need. But do not think that you are obliged to answer.”
“It does please me.” With that, the pixie smiled and flew away, leaving me and a slightly battered Max in the square. Since his burns had been caused by hot metal rather than fire, his chest was already healing.
“Well, that was interesting,” I said, watching her fly away. “Do you think anyone else feels like they should be doing us favors?”
“Us? No—you.” I looked quizzically at Max, so he continued, “I’m here every day, getting beat on, shoved in the dirt, and no one has ever offered me anything. Not once, not ever.” He made an awful noise in the back of his throat, then spat. “Yet they all talk about you, the copper girl that lives in a house of silver.”
“Huh.” I took this in for a moment. “But—”
“But nothing.” Max stood, wobbled a bit, then dusted himself off. “C’mon, it’s not even lunchtime. Let’s see how much more trouble we can get into.”
As it turned out, Max and I had already reached our quota of trouble for the day. After an uneventful afternoon and evening spent in the village, mostly in taverns (all devoid, to Max’s disappointment, of barely clad pixies), we returned to the manor. I’d just gotten myself washed up and into bed when Micah returned, shedding articles of clothing as he neared the bed; I suppose, when you’ve grown up with an army of silver critters constantly picking up after you, it’s an unavoidable habit. Then he was beside me, wrapping his arms around my waist as he kissed the back of my neck.
“I missed you,” he murmured. I didn’t roll over just yet; the feel of his warm belly against my mark was amazing, and I think he knew it. “Tell me about your day.”
“I went to the village with Max.” Micah withdrew my hands from underneath the blankets and made a show of counting my fingers. “What are you doing?”
“Ensuring that he returned you to me in one piece. Toes next.” Micah dove under the blankets and proceeded to count my very sensitive toes. He was lucky I didn’t kick him in the head. When he emerged, after much shrieking on my part and laughter from both of us, he was serious again. “If you travel with Max again, take the silverkin to guard you.”
“Max wouldn’t let anything hurt me,” I protested. I left out how, if it hadn’t been for the pixie, that would have been a moot point.
“He does not have to let them,” Micah replied. Then he gathered me close in that way of his that made it nearly impossible for me to remain angry with him. “I cannot bear the thought of you harmed. Please, for my sake, take them along.”
“Micah…” I looked into those silver eyes, so wide and accepting of me and my wackadoo family. “I can’t.”
“Why?” he asked softly, tracing my cheekbone. “Why can my Sara not promise to be safe?”
“Max is looking for Dad.” Micah’s brow furrowed, and I misinterpreted his expression as anger. “I’d have told you, if I knew before today,” I babbled. “It’s what Max has been doing, raising hell and—”
“Hell?” Micah repeated, alarmed.
“Not real hell,” I soothed. “When Max started brawls or gambled all night or—”
“Or destroyed parts of my home?”
“He was looking for Dad,” I finished in a small voice. “He…he thinks that if he makes a spectacle of himself, word will get to Dad, and that Dad’ll come find us.” As I said it out loud, I realized how stupid Max’s plan really was. Of course I’d known it was a foolish endeavor from the get-go, but I’d ignored my misgivings, hoping that Max was right. He wasn’t, and we were just two stupid, stupid kids.
“You think this plan is sound?” Micah inquired, and his soft, nonjudgmental tone made me break down in tears. After much holding me close and stroking of my hair, I was calm enough for him to ask, “So, not sound, then?”
“No,” I snuffled. “Not sound.” I didn’t offer any more, and Micah didn’t press. I stroked Micah’s mark, and in the process found hard knots in his neck and shoulders; he always carried his tension there. “How was your meeting?’
“Curious,” he replied, rolling onto his back. “I saw Oriana.”
“She’s well, then?” I asked. The last time I’d seen the Gold Queen she’d just been lifted out of the Iron Court’s oubliette and was little more than a cadaver. A screaming, filthy, furious cadaver.
“Well? No.” He brought my hand before him, playing with my fingers. “I suspect her captivity has driven her to madness.”
“She can hardly be blamed for that,” I murmured, shuddering as I recalled the stinking hole of darkness she’d been hauled from; Micah and I had the honor of attending, being that we’d caused the Iron Queen’s demise and had thus inadvertently restored Oriana to the throne. Ha. Some honor. “What did she do?”
“First, she proclaimed that we were all sent to kill her. Then, she announced that she suspected one of us of sewing poison into her clothing, so she stripped naked. Then, she danced and laughed, quite pleased with herself that she’d thwarted her poisoner.”
Can you sew poison? I kept my musings to myself and prompted him to continue. “Then she demanded that we all expose our marks to her, to prove that we are, indeed, Elementals. Shapeshifters cannot duplicate Elemental marks, you know,” Micah added, then laughed mirthlessly. “She went so far as to touch each mark, to prove our authenticity.”
“She touched your mark?” Jealousy rose like bile in my throat. Micah was mine, his beautiful silver mark off-limits to everyone but me.
“For the barest moment,” Micah replied. “She was far more interested in the Inheritor of Fire.”
Ayla was the Inheritor of Fire’s name; I’d made a point of meeting her, since she was human like me. She was tall and lean, with a head of hair such a bright shade of red she made me look like a mere brunette. “Why was Ayla there?”
“Oriana requested her.” Micah rolled again, now onto his side as he pulled me into his cocoon of Micahness. “I do not know how we of metal should proceed, if our queen proves mad. Our queen is meant to symbolize wisdom, not weakness.” He fell silent, his fingers caressing my back in long strokes.
“She doesn’t sound mad,” I said. “So she’s
a little shell-shocked from her ordeal. That’s to be expected. And, after what the iron warriors did to her, I’m not surprised that she’d prefer a woman’s company. Maybe…maybe she just needs a little more time,” I suggested.
“Time. Yes, perhaps time is the proper balm for her ills.” Micah considered my words for another moment, then he drew my face to his. “My wise consort,” he murmured, his gentle caresses becoming a bit more urgent. “Truly, your words soothe my mind. Now, let me soothe you.”
I bit my lip; I’d taken my last contraband Mundane birth control pill yesterday. Since I couldn’t exactly tell Micah that, mostly because I’d never told him about them in the first place, I let him roll me beneath him and concentrated on loving him.
5
Micah had learned pretty early on in our relationship that I was liable to say anything at any moment, regardless of present company or future consequences. Much to my well-mannered consort’s chagrin, he had witnessed me unintentionally insult everyone from Shep right on up to Old Stoney, though neither of us had really minded pissing off the old rock. Shep, though, that was another story; all I had said was that the stairs weren’t as shiny as the main floors, and Shep took that as an insult against his housekeeping skills. I hadn’t meant anything like that—in fact, I liked that the stairs were a bit duller, especially for those occasions when I was wearing a dress—and I’d felt so guilty I’d ended up helping clean the manor for weeks. However, what I asked Micah the morning after my trip to the village with Max surprised even me.
“Can you teach me to fight?” By the time I’d gotten up the nerve to ask that, we’d been up for almost an hour, lounging away in bed. Micah hated mornings nearly as much as I did.
“Fight?” he repeated, one silver brow halfway up his forehead.
“Yeah. With a sword,” I added. For the past few weeks, Micah had been offering me and Sadie instruction on how to better utilize our power over metal. He had also offered his services to Max, who had snorted and stomped out of the room. Nothing like being an ungrateful ass to the man who fed and housed you.
Micah took my hands, examining my knuckles before carefully turning them over. “Have you ever used an edged weapon in the past?” he asked, grazing his thumbs over my palms.
“No,” I admitted, “but I’d like to learn.”
“You are able to halt any foe with your Elemental abilities.”
“But what if something happens, and I can’t use my awesome Elemental powers?” Micah began protesting, but I kept going, “What if I’m out somewhere, without you, without any silverkin to protect me? What if I’m captured and put in a place like Max was, and all that’s nearby is concrete and plastic? Then I’d be helpless.”
Brows now deeply furrowed, Micah mulled this over. “I do not like that my consort may need to fight.”
“Neither does your consort, but if I’m forced to defend myself, I’d at least like to know what I’m doing.” For a few heartbeats Micah just looked at me, and I thought I’d have to appeal to Max for help, or worse, to Shep. Then Micah sprang upward, leaping out of bed as he threw the blankets over my head.
“Your first lesson is to never, ever drop your guard,” he said while I clawed my way to the surface. “Not even in our home, where I personally guarantee your safety. Always remember, love, that a foe’s best hiding place is in plain sight.” Undaunted, I climbed out of bed and affected my best fighter’s stance. Okay, it was a yoga pose, but whatever. I was learning. Amused, Micah dropped into a stance that looked slightly more effective, and we began circling each other.
“Got it. What’s my next lesson?” I’d asked a perfectly reasonable question, and wouldn’t you know it, that elf responded by throwing a silver teacup at my head. Arms flailing, I knocked it away just as Micah tackled me. We landed on the bed in a heap of limbs, the teacup lodged under my back.
“That anything—everything—is a weapon,” he answered. “Never think you are helpless, my Sara. Always use your surroundings to your advantage.”
“What if there’s no tea service nearby?” I yanked the teacup free and tossed it behind my head. “Will a plate do?”
“Certainly,” he murmured. “You have passed your second lesson,” he said, nuzzling my neck. I laughed, as much from the absurdly simple lessons as his ticklish breath.
“Did I pass the first one, too?”
“You did,” he murmured.
“So, when do I get a sword?” Okay, I hadn’t meant that as a joke, but from Micah’s laughter you’d have thought I was the headline act on a comedy tour.
“Love, one does not begin with a sword,” he said once he’d calmed himself. “One begins with simple hand-to-hand techniques.”
“You just showed me hand-to-hand,” I pointed out.
“No, I put a blanket over your head, then I threw a teacup at you,” he corrected. “You do not know how to disarm another, or how to incapacitate an attacker.”
“Then teach me.”
“Very well.” He sat up, and I followed suit. “Hit me.”
“What?”
“Assume that I am an attacker. Hit me.” I moved to whack him with the back of my hand, and I would have if Micah hadn’t snatched my wrist from midair. “Sara, assume your life is in danger. At least make a fist.”
“I—I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” I don’t know if it was his smug words or his even smuggier grin, but one or the other or both got my dander up. I clenched my fist and swung at Micah with all my might, convinced that he’d be the one apologizing from behind his swollen lip.
And then I was beneath him, pinned immobile to the bed.
“That wasn’t fair!” I shouted.
“Wasn’t it?” His silver eyes danced, but I’d had enough.
“Why can’t you take me seriously?” I burst out. “This isn’t some kind of joke!”
Instantly, he relaxed his hold. “My Sara,” he murmured, “I am not treating it as one. But you must understand, lo—”
Using what I’d just learned, I took advantage of Micah’s distracted state and bucked my hips upward. As Micah fell forward and tried to steady himself with his left arm, I pushed his right shoulder and flipped him onto his back. I don’t know who was more amazed: me, because that little move had worked, or Micah, for the exact same reason. As I looked down at him, his confused expression quickly gave way to indignation. Not trusting those sinewy arms, I set my knee close to his throat. “Understand what, love?” I purred. Micah didn’t reply and man, did he look peeved. I leaned down and kissed him, at first just as an apology, but I didn’t protest when he had me beneath him again. I considered it a well-earned reward for showing up the teacher.
Later, we snuggled while my fingertips sketched patterns on his chest. “So, I can have a sword?”
“You may have a sword,” Micah replied, pressing a kiss to my temple. “We shall visit the smith in the village and order one.”
“Can’t you just magic one up?”
“I could, but if you are to be armed, I would rather it be with a sword made by one with an intimate understanding of weaponry.”
“A special sword, then? Just for me?” Before Micah could reply, there was a knock at the door. Micah called for them to enter; it was a group of silverkin, of course, greeting their master and informing him of his impending day. As Shep chattered away, I noticed some of the other ’kin readying Micah’s fancy clothes. “Are we going somewhere?”
“I must meet with the Elemental lords,” he replied, without meeting my eyes. I understood why he was uncomfortable; this was obviously a meeting of some import, and as a mere consort, I wasn’t invited. Little did Micah realize, I liked not being invited to over half of these boring events. I much preferred being bored at the manor.
“Is it about the Gold Queen?” I asked, trying to distract Micah from the fact that I wasn’t going. Or from him getting the bright idea to take me along anyway.
“Yes,” he replied. “Oriana’s well-b
eing is at the forefront of all our thoughts.”
“Oriana, what?”
Micah looked up, his head tilted to the side.
“Oriana has only one name? No family name?” I asked.
“Monarchs are usually only known by a single name,” Micah replied.
“But, you’re a Silverstrand,” I pointed out.
“And, as you may have noticed, I am not a queen,” he replied with a wink. I blushed at that and forced a laugh to hide it. “Raintree. Oriana’s family name is Raintree.”
“Oh,” I murmured. “That’s a pretty name.”
“Oriana’s situation illustrates why heirs are so important among Elementals,” Micah continued. Great. Back to babies, and before breakfast, at that. “A large family can help one gain and hold the throne.”
“I thought all those of metal would stand together,” I said. “Or at least, wouldn’t all those of gold support Oriana?”
“One can turn upon their own nature to support another, such as what occurred when Ferra captured Oriana,” Micah explained. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, but none of Oriana’s children survived to adulthood. That tragedy was one of the many reasons Ferra, along with her supporters, sought to overwhelm the Golden Court. If Oriana and Eurwynn had had any living heirs, those of their bloodline would have defended them. Eurwynn might not have been executed; perhaps they wouldn’t have been dethroned at all.”
“Why didn’t anyone support you?” I asked, since, as silver, he was next in line. Micah sighed, pain creasing his features. I began apologizing, but he waved it away.
“No. You should know.” He sent the silverkin away with a look, then he perched on the bed. After he took another deep breath, he stared at the floor as he told me how Ferra had committed the ultimate betrayal.
“Those of earth, specifically the greater stones, were always the ruling element.” He shook his head. “No, not always, but for many generations. Then we of metal had the grand idea that we were somehow more suited to rule than those of stone, and we plotted a coup.” I sat beside him and slipped my fingers against his palm. Micah smiled at that, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “While we plotted against stone, Ferra plotted against gold. She gained the support of not only the lesser metals, such as wolfram and zinc—”
Copper Ravens Page 4