Blood of Stone_A Shattered Magic Novel

by Jayne Faith

  “It’s Jasper.”

  I frowned as the name plucked at my memory.

  Oh, damn it to Maeve.

  “Not Jasper, King Periclase’s son?” I winced as I said it, as if the answer was going to cause me physical pain.

  “See? I knew you were sharper than you were letting on.” He had a very faint brogue—too subtle to tell if it was Irish or Scottish—indicating he must have spent some portion of his childhood in the Old World, unlike me. I was New World born and raised in the San Francisco-anchored fortress.

  The zap wasn’t wearing off as quickly as I’d hoped, and Jasper and the other guards had brought me to a wing that appeared to be offices or some other rooms where official business was conducted. The Duergar seal and colors seemed to be everywhere.

  Jasper halted and rapped on a door. A moment later, I heard it unlatch.

  “The others can go,” said a male voice.

  I tried to twist around to see who was speaking, but my torso muscles weren’t up to the task yet. Jasper carried me through the doorway. When he turned to close the door, I caught an upside-down glimpse of an armored guard, like one who’d stood beside King Periclase in the forest. He was dressed differently than Jasper, who looked more like a military man than a royal guard.

  With much jostling, Jasper muscled me into a chair. My head bobbed a little before I could control it, and I ground my teeth—this whole rag doll thing was not exactly putting me in a position of influence in this situation.

  Jasper moved back to stand near the door. He held a magi-zapper casually at his side, and his other hand rested on the pommel of the short sword at his waist. I cast a quick look around. The room was about fifteen feet square and windowless, and I seemed to be positioned at the back of it.

  When I saw that the armored guard held my scabbard, my hands twitched with the desire to snatch Mort away.

  “Watch yourself,” I growled at him. “That’s a shadowsteel spellblade you’re holding.”

  He didn’t react but just gazed coldly at me through his barbute-style helmet, which had an open T that left his eyes, nose, the center strip of mouth, and chin exposed. Then he slowly lifted his other hand and stroked Mort’s grip in a lewd gesture. Wrath and adrenaline spiked through me. There was a sharp pulse from Mort—from my own blood infused in the steel—as if the broadsword protested being touched by the brute. It was a reaction that only I could feel.

  I leaned forward as if to stand. “I’m warning you, asshole.”

  Jasper stepped forward, his neutral expression tightening just a hair. “You’re in no position to be warning anyone,” he said to me. “For your own good, stay where you are.”

  He turned his hand, showing me the magi-zapper. At first I thought he was threatening me with it, but he was gesturing at something.

  I tipped my gaze down. There were a couple of metal loops bolted to the floor. Attached to each was a short chain with a shackle. My jaw tightened as I sensed something faint but distinctly malicious emanating from those innocuous-looking lengths of metal. Sky iron. The rarest and most poisonous type of iron. This was an interrogation room. My New Garg blood was decent protection against lesser types like cold iron, but no Fae was resistant to sky iron. I suddenly became aware of the same dark impression coming from either side. I slid my eyes to the right and caught sight of a length of fine chain. More sky iron. I didn’t have to look to the left to know that an identical chain hung there, too.

  I only had a few seconds to contemplate the implications when the door swung open. King Periclase strode in. He was flanked by a couple of guards who were nearly identical in stature and uniform to the one who still clutched Mort in his meaty paw. The Duergar king was dressed in his courtly best. Leather trousers, a white tunic tucked in to show off his narrow waist, studded leather boots that hit just below his knees, and a cape. A floor-length fricking cape. It should have looked ridiculous, but somehow Periclase made it look badass.

  The guards hung back while Periclase came to loom right in front of me. I planted my feet and pushed off my thighs with my hands to stand. No way I was going to sit there on my ass and look up at him, even if my muscles still felt like al dente linguine. My knees wobbled. I locked them out and leaned back just enough to brace my legs against the edge of the chair. I lifted my chin and returned his unblinking gaze. There was no way in hell I could curtsy without collapsing, but the Duergar king didn’t seem to notice my violation of decorum.

  Periclase tilted his head ever so slightly, regarding me. “So. Oliver’s daughter. Not even here an hour, and already causing trouble.”

  Inside, I relaxed just a little. He was irritated but didn’t seem in the mood to torture me with sky iron.

  “I simply got lost, that’s all, Your Majesty,” I said coolly. I raised a palm to gesture at the guards. “This seems unnecessary.”

  He smiled, and the stone side of his face remained unmoving. There was absolutely nothing warm or friendly about his expression.

  “One can’t be too careful in the current political climate,” Periclase said. He lifted an arm and flicked his finger, and Jasper moved to stand just behind his father. “I’ve spoken to Lord Lothlorien, and he agrees that we mustn’t risk you losing your way again while you’re here. For the remainder of your visit, my battle captain will accompany you everywhere you go.”

  My eyes flicked over to Jasper. He looked neither pleased nor irked with his assignment.

  “Oh, I assure you it won’t happen again, Your Majesty,” I said. “My page has maps, and I’ll make sure she’s with me whenever I leave my—”

  “You will have a special escort for the remainder of your visit,” he repeated, cutting me off.

  His voice was even, but his brows rose almost imperceptibly. I snapped my trap shut as I realized what it meant. He was challenging me to argue again. He would relish taking more severe action, and if I provoked it, he’d be able to justify it to Maxen. For once, my better judgment actually kicked in, and I restrained myself. Instead of arguing, I inclined my head.

  “As you wish, Your Majesty.” I nearly sounded as if I meant it.

  I needed to make nice. I’d figure out how to lose Jasper later.

  King Periclase turned neatly on his heel, making his cape billow out a bit, and he strode toward the door. One of his personal guards opened it for him. Suddenly feeling a whole lot steadier, I stalked toward the guy who still held Mort, ready to rip the scabbard from his hands.

  Just as I reached for it, Periclase paused in the doorway and pivoted around to look at me.

  “And Jasper will carry your broadsword,” the Duergar king pronounced.

  I saw red. It was a good thing Periclase left immediately because I couldn’t contain myself. I turned my back on Jasper and Meat Hands, planted my fists on my hips, and let out a muttered string of swearing that cursed the Duergar three generations backward and forward. Then I took a deep breath and faced them.

  “I’m sure my page and my roommate are wondering where I am,” I said sweetly to Jasper. “Would you mind if we returned to my quarters?”

  His lips twitched. “Certainly, Lady Maguire. And rest assured, I won’t take you on a single wrong turn. Pay attention as you go, and maybe you’ll become better equipped to navigate the palace.”

  My hands clenched into fists as Jasper took Mort from Meat Hands. My personal escort swung the strap of the scabbard over his shoulder like a bag. Having Jasper carry it was slightly less offensive, but only by a hair.

  Meat Hands opened the door, and Jasper nodded at me. “After you.”

  I was too pissed to try to make any conversation on the way back to my quarters. I went in and slammed the door in Jasper’s face. Well, I wanted to think I did. In actuality, he hadn’t tried to come in.

  Emmaline rushed at me. “Where have you been?” she demanded. “And where’s your sword?” She gave me an alarmed look.

  “Long story,” I grumbled.

  “Well, you need to change,” she said.
She pushed the blue dress at me. “I found out after you left that formal dress is required, and we’re twenty minutes late to the cocktail reception. This is not making a good impression.”

  “I don’t think Periclase is going to care too much about my impression at this point,” I said.

  With irate, sharp movements, I took off my blouse and riding pants and pulled on the dress. Having to change back into that outfit somehow added insult to injury.

  Hands on hips, I stood before Emmaline two minutes later. “Okay, let’s go.”

  “Your hair?” She gestured.

  I shook my head. “Not happening.”

  I took a slow breath to compose myself and then pasted on the best fake smile I could manage. I opened the door. Jasper pushed away from the wall, and the faintest surprise registered in his colorful eyes as his gaze flicked down over my dress.

  “Emmaline, this is Jasper,” I said over my shoulder to my page with exaggerated brightness. “We’re going to see a hell of a lot of him while we’re here, so the two of you might as well get acquainted.”

  My fake smile slipped, trying to curl into an irate sneer, before I snapped it back into place.

  Jasper had the audacity to let out a little chuckle. I glared at his back the whole way to the reception hall.

  Chapter 15

  THE RECEPTION WAS in full swing when we arrived. Jasper moved aside, allowing me to choose where I wanted to go. Suddenly Lochlyn was at my side, grasping my elbow.

  “What did you do?” she whispered loudly at my ear. “Maxen has already asked me three times if I’ve seen you, and he’s ready to spit nails.”

  Before I could respond or even get my bearings in the swirl of fabric, perfume, chatter, and candlelight, the milling crowd shifted and I caught sight of Maxen stalking toward us.

  “Save yourself,” I hissed to Lochlyn, and she let go of me and melted away into the guests.

  “Lord Lothlorien,” I said regally, and dropped into a deep curtsy.

  “Cut that crap out right now, Maguire,” he said, his voice urgent but low enough that his words wouldn’t carry to anyone nearby. “You owe me an explanation. Now.”

  I straightened and flicked a glance over at Jasper. He was watching, but was out of earshot, I was pretty sure.

  “I can totally explain,” I said. “I swear I didn’t do anything wrong. Huge overreaction on the part of the Duergar. Huge. Seriously, so massive.” I sometimes tended to backslide into adolescent-speak when I knew I was going to have to try to talk my way out of a bind.

  He tipped his head, indicating we should move off to the side of the room. Jasper followed, and Emmaline hovered nearby, too. This was not at all how I imagined it would be to have my own entourage. Maxen stopped near the wall.

  “What in the name of Oberon is going on?” he demanded. “I get a messenger telling me that you’re in a Duergar cell and they want to accuse you of spying.”

  I scoffed. “We’re in Unseelie territory! Everyone here is a spy.”

  His mouth drew into an angry, tight line. I shut up.

  “I just went out to, you know, look around,” I said pointedly. I dropped my voice to a whisper and put my hand over my mouth to keep anyone from reading my lips. “For the changeling.”

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him so tense. “You have to be more discreet, Petra. This business with the Duergar is too dire to screw around. We can’t be openly pissing them off.”

  I blew out a frustrated breath. He was probably right. I should have been stealthier. But I was on a mission on behalf of the Stone Order, and it wasn’t an easy one.

  He sighed heavily and beckoned me to lean in.

  “Petra, things are more escalated than I thought. If this changeling disappears while the New Gargoyle convoy is here, it will throw our talks into chaos. Periclase will think this trip was just a front for taking the changeling. I’m sorry, but I have to call it off. You can’t do it. Not while we’re here on a diplomatic visit. The Duergar will use it as an excuse to start a war.”

  “But Nicole belongs to us,” I protested, my tone thick with alarm. The thought of leaving my own sister here made me feel ill. Maxen didn’t know Nicole was my twin, but I couldn’t help my reaction. “She’s New Gargoyle, and Periclase has no right to detain her. If anything, we should be the ones initiating war against his kingdom for kidnapping one of our changelings. This should make him look bad, not us.”

  I wasn’t sure exactly when I’d gotten so fully behind this rescue mission. I’d wanted to get Nicole out from the start, but I realized I also wanted to show Periclase that he couldn’t screw with New Gargoyles—he couldn’t screw with me.

  Maxen pulled back a bit and closed his eyes for a beat.

  “I know,” he said. “Logically, you’re right. But this is Faerie politics. Logic doesn’t necessarily apply.”

  I dropped my arms to my sides and ground my teeth. I wasn’t upset at him, but at the stupid politics of Faerie kingdoms.

  “We can’t just leave her, Maxen.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “But we can’t do it like this.”

  I perked up at his tone. He seemed to have something in mind.

  “I’m going to send you home,” he said firmly.

  I frowned. I’d thought he had something in mind. “Wait, what?”

  “As far as the Duergar are concerned, you’ll be going home,” he said. “It would be uncouth to do it now, in the middle of a party. I’ll wait until tomorrow morning, and then I’ll officially dismiss you.”

  “But then I’ll . . .” I left the question hanging, hoping he was implying what I thought he was implying.

  “I’ll have to figure out how to get you back in,” he whispered quickly. A cloud of officials had started creeping closer and closer to us, hovering in a way that made it clear they wanted to whisk Maxen back into conversation.

  He moved away, leaving me standing alone by the wall.

  Jasper strolled over.

  Inside, I was revved up with the prospect of what was to come, but I couldn’t let on that anything was amiss. The sight of Jasper’s hand wrapped around Mort’s scabbard made it easy to pull a sullen face.

  I crossed my arms. “Oh. It’s you.”

  “Get a little lecture and wrist slap from the stone prince?” he asked cheerfully.

  I looked off to the side, ignoring him.

  “Aw, come on,” he cajoled. “No need to be unfriendly.”

  I sighed and then slid my gaze over to glance at his forearm. The one holding my scabbard had the sleeve pulled up slightly, revealing a couple of inches of stone. “Can you form full armor? How much New Garg blood you got, anyway?”

  He blinked, seeming caught off guard by my question. His hand reflexively tightened around my scabbard strap.

  “Aye, I can summon full armor. As for New Garg blood, about half. Not that it really matters,” he said. He pointed his thumb at his chest. “You may have heard. I’m a bastard.”

  It was true. Periclase was his father, but his mother wasn’t the Duergar queen.

  “At least you know who your parents are,” I said absently. I was scanning the room for Lochlyn or Emmaline. I spotted both of them near one of the buffet tables.

  “Unknown lineage?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know who my blood mother is,” I said. I smirked at him, suddenly realizing that he and I were of similar build. “Hey, maybe we’re related.”

  “That’d be a terrible pity.”

  I turned to give him a sharp look. The corners of his mouth twitched as if he held back a grin. Otherwise, his face remained stoic as he watched me with those unblinking tri-colored eyes.

  Variegated eyes.

  For some unknown reason, I suddenly remembered the term for Fae irises like Jasper’s that displayed at least three distinct colors in a concentric pattern. They were unusual and very striking.

  I dropped my arms to my sides. “If that’s your idea of flirting, you’re kind of shitty at it.”

>   I turned on my heel and strode away, and his soft chuckle followed me.

  Lochlyn was talking to a gray-haired Duergar official, and when she caught sight of me, she brightened and lifted a finger in a just-a-minute gesture. I grabbed a champagne flute from a server and pretended to sip it while I waited. Alcohol dulled my senses, but a drink in hand was useful for blending in.

  Lochlyn hurried over. “What’d Maxen say?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” I said with a glance over my shoulder at Jasper, who stood a couple of feet away.

  “Who is that guy?” Lochlyn asked.

  I blew out a breath. “My babysitter,” I said grudgingly.

  Her brows rose.

  “I got in trouble with Periclase when I went on my little adventure earlier, so now I don’t go anywhere without escort.”

  Approval flickered in her eyes as she gave him a long look. “Well, you could do worse. A whole lot worse.”

  “He’s Periclase’s son.”

  “Ah, Jasper. I remember him now from my days at court years ago. He’s grown into quite a man. Those eyes,” she said, her gaze still lingering on Jasper. “This throws a wrench in things, though, doesn’t it?”

  “Yep. But there’s a plan in the works,” I said under my breath. “I’m going to have to make an early departure from this realm and then figure out a way to get back in.”

  There was a bright flourish of horns near the main doorway, and the entire room’s attention swung that way. King Periclase entered the reception hall with his wife, Courtney, on his arm. In their wake walked a few Duergar lords and ladies, plus a cadre of attendants.

  Everyone bowed and curtsied as the Duergar king and queen promenaded into the room. As they passed, Periclase slid a hard glance at me, and then his eyes flicked over to Jasper. The royal couple went to sit on ornate chairs positioned on a raised platform, and a queue of people formed almost immediately.

  I glanced over at Emmaline, who was standing inconspicuously off to the side with her hands clasped over her tablet. She walked over.

  “We’re not expected to go talk to them, are we?” I asked my page.