by Jayne Faith
“We’re not expected to go talk to them, are we?” I asked my page.
She shook her head. “It’s not required, no. Only if you’d like to.”
“Thank Oberon.”
Lochlyn and I watched as Maxen spoke to the royal couple and then moved off to the side. A petite, very slim young woman with silver-blond hair approached him. She’d been standing near the royal throne as if she’d been waiting for him. There was something about her that seemed familiar.
“Who’s that?” I asked Lochlyn.
“No idea,” she said. “You’re not jealous she’s talking to Maxen, are you?”
I shot her a glare, and she snorted a laugh.
“She’s King Periclase’s daughter, but not Queen Courtney’s,” Emmaline supplied. “She’s not on the royal family registry because Periclase never officially claimed her as his, but she’s sworn to the Duergar kingdom. Her name’s Bryna.”
My pulse thumped hard in my temples. Lochlyn and I locked eyes for a second.
“Bryna, as in the Duergar-Spriggan bitch who tried to kill you?” Lochlyn hissed.
“Got to be,” I said. My jaw clenched as I watched Bryna smile and chatter with Maxen. “It’s probably a good thing I’m not holding Mort right now.”
My muscles pulsed with the desire to do some damage to Bryna’s delicately pretty face. But then I considered the situation in the larger scheme of things. I could use Bryna to prompt my early exit from the Duergar kingdom. I liked the idea of getting things rolling. I shoved my champagne flute into Lochlyn’s free hand.
“Petra, wait,” Lochlyn came after me as I began to stomp toward Periclase’s bastard daughter. Lochlyn grabbed my arm.
“I know what I’m doing,” I whispered to Lochlyn and then shook off her hand.
Chapter 16
BRYNA’S GAZE FLICKED to me as I approached, and then she did a double-take. Her eyes widened, and she stopped talking mid-sentence. I stepped in front of Maxen, so close to Bryna I could see her quickening pulse at the side of her pale neck.
“Surprised to see me here?” I asked. “Does Daddy know about your wraith? Does he know you tried to kill me? Maybe we should tell him about how you violated the sanctity of the netherwhere.”
Her fingers flew to her mouth as she affected a shocked look.
“Oh! You must have the wrong person,” she said loudly. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she backed up a step as she pressed her other hand to her chest. “Please, don’t hurt me!”
Maxen was at my side, trying to tug at my arm. “Petra? What in Oberon’s name are you doing?”
I shot him a pointed look, and he seemed to get the idea that this was part of a plan. He backed off.
“Don’t you play dumb,” I growled at Bryna. “I know it was you, and I’ve got someone who will back me up. You’re going to pay for trying to murder me in the netherwhere.”
She shrank away, holding up her hands as if to fend off an attack. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I knew it was an act on her part—it was on mine, too—but it was working. People were crowding around. Hands grasped my arms. Someone hauled me backward.
Maxen kept pace with me as people inserted themselves between me and Bryna.
“Petra, get a hold of yourself, right now,” he said loudly enough for his voice to carry a little. He was getting in on the act.
Maxen continued to talk to me as I was escorted out through a side doorway into a service corridor. Lochlyn, Jasper, and Maxen all stared at me. A couple of Duergar guards hovered nearby. The door to the reception hall stood open, and I could see Periclase up on his throne. He hadn’t moved, but he was watching us. Jasper waved the guards back, and they retreated into the reception hall.
“What’s this about?” Jasper demanded.
“She tried to kill me,” I said. “She sent a wraith after me in the netherwhere. It tried to paralyze me there with cold iron; I barely made it out alive. And it came after me again.” I held out my arm. “I’ve still got the iron burns.”
They all looked at me with varying expressions of concern. Violating the netherwhere was a dishonorable and serious offense in Faerie.
“How do you know it was Bryna?” Jasper asked. His jaw clenched, and I got the brief but distinct impression that he wasn’t Bryna’s biggest fan.
“She’s connected to a mark I was after for a Guild assignment, a drug-dealing vamp she’s been escorting into Faerie. Morven identified her for me. He also named her the owner of the wraith.”
Lochlyn let out a little gasp at the mention of Morven’s name. Everyone in Faerie knew who he was, and Morven’s word was universally trusted.
“Pursuing a problem through bureaucratic channels isn’t my style, and there’s nothing that requires me to do it that way,” I said. “I killed the wraith. I planned to deal with Bryna after I caught the mark.”
“I believe you, I do,” Maxen said, playing along. “But unfortunately, that little display was the last straw as far as this trip is concerned. You can’t stay here.”
I huffed out a loud breath. Getting booted out of the Duergar realm was my plan. But it struck me that we hadn’t gotten to the part about how I was getting back in.
“I know,” I said. “For what it’s worth, I don’t blame you.”
I hoped I wasn’t laying it on too thick.
Emmaline had been standing in the doorway, and I beckoned her over.
“Lady Lochlyn and I will be departing this evening,” I said.
“Actually, Lochlyn is scheduled to perform later,” Maxen said quickly. He lifted his brows slightly, trying to signal something. He wanted Lochlyn to remain behind. Maybe he just didn’t want to do anything further to irritate Periclase.
“Fine. Just me, then,” I said and tried to look dejected.
Jasper was watching us, and I could almost see his brain working as he tried to read the subtext of what we said.
I caught a flash of something pass from Maxen’s hand to Lochlyn’s, which Jasper didn’t see, and then she came over to embrace me.
“I’ll be home soon,” she said. I felt her slip something under my dress at my shoulder blade.
I gave a forlorn little sigh. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”
Maxen and Lochlyn turned to go back into the reception hall.
“Ready?” Jasper asked.
I nodded, and Emmaline walked beside me as he led us back toward my room. I could feel the small object Lochlyn had slipped to me, and I itched to see what it was. It felt like a small scrap of paper. As we walked, it started to slide lower. I was so focused on trying to surreptitiously work it to a more secure place under my bra strap at first I didn’t notice the change in the air when we entered the empty courtyard at the center of the guest quarters.
The area was in shadow, with the sun having set. All of a sudden, it was like the shadows were birthing moving forms.
“What the—” Even as Jasper was voicing his confusion, he was drawing his sword from its sheath and a magi-zapper from his belt.
As soon as my eyes locked on one of the diminutive, black-clad figures, I knew what was happening.
“They’re servitors,” I said. “With poisoned throwing knives and daggers.”
I threw myself to the ground to avoid one of said knives, which went whizzing by my temple. I hollered at Emmaline to get down and armor up, and she went sprawling behind a ball-shaped hedge.
I pulled magic, summoning my rock armor. “Jasper, my sword!”
He glanced back at me just as a servitor launched himself at Jasper with a wild yell. These servitors moved with blurring speed, much faster than the ones I’d faced before. Jasper barely managed to bat him to the side with a swing of his arm, the one that was encased in stone.
“Damn it, come on!” I hollered as another servitor rushed at me, brandishing a dagger in each hand.
I kicked him in the ribs and felt one knife scrape across the armor on my thigh. He didn’t go down. Regaining hi
s footing, he sprang up, reached out with the other blade, and nearly nicked my bare cheek.
“Petra!” Jasper twisted to toss my scabbard at me before whirling around to cut down two more servitors with his short sword and then kneel down to shoulder away another that dove at him. He had exceptionally quick hands, especially for a man his size.
I caught the scabbard, grabbed Mort’s grip, and connected with the weapon’s magic as I freed it from the sheath. Power zinged between me and my weapon as Mort seemed to relish the impending violence. Automatically moving near Jasper to fight back to back as the attackers came at us, I quickly got into a rhythm of blocking and mowing them down. They were fast, and we only just managed to hold them off. But it didn’t take long for them to change their approach.
The remaining servitors retreated and formed a ring around us.
“Oh, shit,” I growled.
Then, moving in unison, they began hurling their knives at us. We took cover at a huge tree trunk, but that only protected us from one angle.
I ducked and winced as one knife pinged off my shoulder and another hit my wrist.
Jasper reached around to shove something into my hand. It was a piece of his armor, a shoulder plate.
“Protect your head,” he said. “They’re going to run out of shit to throw at us at some point.”
“Well, aren’t you just cool as a cucumber on ice,” I remarked, trying to match his casual tone.
Not certain whether he was capable of summoning full stone armor, I shot a glance at him to make sure he hadn’t compromised his own safety by giving me some of his regular armor. He looked every bit as encased in rock as I was. Apparently, he hadn’t inherited King Periclase’s faulty gene.
“On the inside, I’m screaming like a pretty little princess,” he said.
I cracked a grin and nearly laughed as more knives assaulted us.
“Emmaline, you okay?” I hollered.
“Thumbs up,” she yelled back, sounding shaken.
“You’ve seen these guys before, I take it?” Jasper asked. He was using his breast plate as a shield for his head.
“Twice before. Once at a nightclub, when they seemed to be trying to take out the Spriggan king, and the other time at the stone fortress.” The assault stopped, and after a moment I lowered the shoulder plate I’d been holding in front of my face. “Watch, they’ll disappear.”
Jasper looked around just as the servitors began to wink out of existence. First, the ones we’d killed disappeared. Then the ring of knife throwers faded out of sight.
“I heard about the assassination attempt on King Sebastian at Druid Circle. You were there for that?”
I raised a shoulder and let it drop. “Yep.”
He shook his head. “Why did they come?”
For a second I debated about whether to tell him Marisol’s theory but figured it wouldn’t hurt to repeat it. “We believe they aren’t sent for the primary objective of killing, but for some other purpose.”
“What?”
“We don’t know. But when they disappear, they’re returning to their master, their task done.”
He looked troubled.
“Creepy, eh?” I said, skirting a look around at the places where the bodies had been.
“I have to inform King Periclase.” He started to stride away but then stopped and wheeled around.
I let out a withering sigh. “But you can’t leave me alone.”
“I’ll go.” Emmaline had crept out from her hiding place and was brushing off the front of her dress.
Noticing that she’d released her stone armor, I did the same. As it disappeared, the familiar ache spread over my skin. It was one of the costs of possessing such powerful magic, and all who could form the rock armor suffered it. I couldn’t help wondering if the constant armor around Jasper’s forearm caused him pain.
Jasper nodded. “Do you have a weapon?” he asked her.
She shook her head. He pulled out a short, curved knife and flipped it around in his palm so he could hand the hilt to her. She gave him a small, grateful smile and then hurried away, going back the way we’d come.
His gaze tipped downward, and for a moment I thought he was looking at Mort with the intent of demanding I hand over my sword. But when I glanced down, I realized in the course of the fight I’d ripped a high slit up the center of my dress. Another couple of inches and he would have known the color of my underwear.
“It’s a good modification,” he said, completely straight-faced and in that mild tone of his.
I snorted a laugh in spite of myself and went to pick up my scabbard.
“You’re a very solid fighter,” I said.
“Is that a compliment or a subtle put-down?”
I thought for a second. “Compliment. But one that implies there’s room for improvement.”
He chuckled, but his mirth was short-lived as we caught the sound of pounding boots. A moment later, the courtyard flooded with Duergar guards. Jasper went to talk to the one in the lead, leaving me standing there in a ripped dress, holding Mort.
I started to head to the stairs to go up to my quarters—after all, I had some packing to do—when King Periclase swept in, cape and all. His personal guards had their short swords drawn, and they moved into the space in half-crouches with their weight shifted forward, ready to fight. They all straightened when they realized the battle was done. The Duergar king scanned the courtyard, his face grimly set. But then, he always looked grim. His eyes lingered on me as Jasper went to speak to him.
I swung my scabbard over my head and settled it across my body, feeling once again whole with Mort on my back. Crossing my arms, I stayed where I was, figuring Periclase would want me questioned. Emmaline returned, slightly out of breath, and came to my side. We both watched the Duergar king.
“He say anything?” I asked her.
“Not much,” she said. She glanced at me. “But he looked a little shaken.”
My brows rose. The stone-faced king was rattled? I didn’t really blame him. These servitor breaches were unusual. And the fact that no one seemed to know who was behind them or why they were sent was unsettling, even to a mercenary Fae who lived on the other side of the hedge.
“Are you all right, Emmaline?” I asked quietly. She’d probably never been in anything resembling a real combat situation, where she actually could have been killed.
Nodding, her face took on a fierce look, her nose creasing between her eyes as if she were looking at something far-off and she wanted to stab it through the ribs. “I just wish I would have had a sword. I hated lying there, useless and helpless.”
I smiled with grim appreciation. She’d be fine.
“Good girl,” I said approvingly. “I’m sure it was frustrating, but you held yourself together and you didn’t die. That’s always a good outcome. Next time, maybe you’ll have that sword you want so much.”
“You think there will be a next time?” she asked, sounding more intrigued than fearful.
I frowned. “These servitors seem to be able to go anywhere they please without permission, so until someone figures out who’s commanding them, they’ll likely keep cropping up.”
After another couple of minutes, Jasper joined us.
“What, no inquisition?” I said, spreading my hands.
“King Periclase asked me to convey his approval for aiding me in defending the palace.”
“Approval?” I snorted. “He ain’t my daddy. I don’t need his approval.”
I wasn’t about to admit I was relieved. After the day I’d had, a grilling from the Duergar king was the last thing I needed. I was ready to get the hell out. At least, out of all the courtly nonsense.
I tipped my head at my door on the second floor. “C’mon, let’s get this eviction over with, shall we?”
Just then, Maxen and some of the New Garg dignitaries entered the courtyard. He flicked a glance at me, accompanied by a brief, relieved-looking nod, before going to Periclase.
Jas
per, Emmaline, and I went upstairs. She and I went in to quickly gather the few things of mine that had been unpacked, while Jasper stood outside.
“You should stay here,” I said. “You’re not the one who got in trouble. You can attend to Lochlyn.”
Emmaline closed the lid of my trunk. “I can’t officially attend to her, since she’s not New Gargoyle. But I’m sure Lord Lothlorien can find another assignment for me.”
Suddenly I remembered the piece of paper Lochlyn had slid between my dress and my shoulder blade. While Emmaline was looking down at her tablet, I reached back and worked the folded scrap out but kept it concealed in my hand.
“I’m going to find someone to carry your trunk,” Emmaline said and went out onto the balcony to speak to Jasper.
I turned toward a wall, and keeping the paper close to my body, I unfolded it. On it were hastily drawn marks. I recognized them immediately as sigils, the symbols which were part of the secret Fae code for using doorways. There was also a set of coordinates I recognized as being located in Duergar territory. The whole note was written in Maxen’s hand. He’d slipped it to Lochlyn to get to me. I was pretty sure Maxen had given me the key to get back into the realm through a restricted doorway. How he could have come by such information, I had no idea, but maybe diplomats knew how to get through some of the more secret doorways.
I refolded the paper and tucked it into a pouch on my scabbard, behind my phone.
A sad little procession of Jasper, three Duergar guards, an attendant bearing my trunk, and Emmaline accompanied me to a doorway located under an arch of trees just outside the palace. It was dark, and there was no fanfare, only the soft cooing of night birds.
“Well, it’s been . . . interesting, Petra Maguire,” Jasper said after the attendant shoved my trunk up to the edge of the doorway.
I crooked a half-grin at him. “That it has.” It suddenly struck me that Jasper seemed decidedly unlike most of the Unseelie I’d come across.
He gave me a little salute, and I turned to the arch.
I grasped a handle of the trunk and stood at the gnarled root half-buried in the dirt that marked the edge of the doorway. With my back turned, I stepped over the line as I whispered the words and used my fingers to draw the symbols that would take me back to the stone fortress. A second later, I was drifting in the void of the netherwhere.