Black Night bw-2

by Christina Henry

  “Right,” Beezle said. “So it’s your job to convince her that having Gabriel’s kid would put her at a disadvantage, and then offer your services to her instead.”

  “Services?” I said. “Not the kind of services she wants Gabriel to provide?”

  “Get your mind out of the gutter. No, you offer yourself as a kind of soldier when she wants backup.”

  I could see a lot of problems with this plan. “First of all, I’m not a mercenary. Second of all, Lucifer probably would not be too happy if I allied myself with Amarantha, even temporarily. Third of all, having an extra hammer around to wield is nothing compared to having a tie of blood, even if that hammer is one of Lucifer’s.”

  Beezle crossed his arms grumpily. “So what’s your brilliant plan, then?”

  “To do whatever it takes to get Gabriel back.”

  Wade looked at me speculatively. “Be careful. You wouldn’t want Amarantha to know that. She is excellent at taunting you with what you most desire.”

  “And she’ll make you bleed for it in the process,” J.B. added.

  A little pain was nothing if it meant getting Gabriel away from the queen’s clutches.

  Amarantha wasn’t pleased with me at the moment, but surely she wouldn’t refuse an audience with her son.

  “J.B., do you think you could get me in to see your mom?”

  He looked troubled. “If that’s what you really want.”

  What I really wanted was to be at home again with Gabriel and Beezle and all of this court nonsense forgotten.

  “That’s what I really want.”

  Even if I had to bleed to get it.

  14

  THE WOLVES CLEARED OUT WHEN J.B. AND I LEFT FOR Amarantha’s rooms. It would look too much like we were ganging up on the queen if we all went. Also, I was hoping that in the privacy of her rooms and away from her courtiers, she would be more reasonable.

  Although I wasn’t holding out a ton of hope.

  “Where’s Nathaniel this morning?” J.B. asked casually as he led me toward the wing of the castle that held the family rooms.

  “Probably licking his wounds,” Beezle sniggered.

  I glared at Beezle, who was perched on my shoulder again.

  “So he’s the one who hit you,” J.B. said. “I thought so.”

  “Nobody said that.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I took care of it, okay? So there’s no need to go all manly about it,” I said.

  J.B. looked like he wanted to argue, but then closed his mouth. “Fine. I respect your ability to take care of yourself.”

  I looked at him, shocked. I was so accustomed to everyone treating me like a helpless idiot that it was both surprising and refreshing to hear J.B. acknowledge that I was neither.

  “You did survive Ramuell on your own, after all,” he said.

  “She did not,” Beezle argued. “She got her human heart torn out.”

  “Am I here or what?” I said crossly. “That constitutes survival.”

  “The queen’s private chambers are at the top of this flight of stairs,” J.B. said. “I’ve sent a message ahead for Violet to expect to receive us.”

  “And Violet would do just anything for you, Jonquil,” I said.

  He looked at me mildly despite the provocation. “If you’re going to go all gooey-eyed whenever Gabriel is in the room, then you have no right to act jealous if I’m with another woman.”

  I glanced down at the floor, properly chastised. “Point taken.”

  “But I’d still prefer you to anyone in the world.”

  I looked up, pleased and confused, which was the way I often felt around J.B. I smiled, but we had reached the top of the stairs. J.B. knocked on the door and Violet let us in, giving me a sideways glare.

  “I did not expect Ambassador Black to accompany you,” she cooed.

  “She needs to have a word with my mother,” J.B. said. “I thought I could speak with you in private while they did that.”

  Violet glowed with pleasure at the thought of some private conversation with the prince. She left us in the receiving room, which looked a lot like Amarantha’s receiving room downstairs, and went into an inner chamber to consult with the queen.

  I couldn’t tell if J.B. was playing it up so that I could get my audience with the queen or playing it up for his own sake, but as he’d pointed out, I’d no right to be jealous. Even if I was. A really tiny bit.

  I wasn’t sure what my plan of action was, but a few moments later Violet returned and indicated with a curt nod of her head that I was to enter.

  “The gargoyle, however, must stay.”

  “Beezle comes with me everywhere,” I said, surprised. Amarantha had never seen Beezle as a threat before.

  “The gargoyle must stay,” Violet repeated. “Or you may forfeit your audience with the queen.”

  Digging my heels in about Beezle didn’t seem the smartest way to begin, so I reluctantly let him fly off my shoulder to land on the fireplace mantel. He didn’t say anything, but his face had a scrunched-up, worried look.

  I entered the inner chamber.

  Amarantha had obviously arranged a little display for my discomfort. She was wearing nothing but a diaphanous negligee that left zero to the imagination and she had draped her centerfold body over a red velvet chaise. Her left hand picked at a small plate of fruit while her right held a black satin leash attached to Gabriel’s neck.

  She had arranged him on the floor like a dog at her feet. He had been washed, and oiled, and the black feathers of his wings shone with gloss. She had even put him in a loincloth. He looked up at me when I entered but then looked away, like he was embarrassed to have me see him that way.

  The overall effect was so cheesy, so obvious, that I would have laughed had it not been Gabriel attached to the leash. As it was, I had a hard time keeping my legs steady. Until I saw the smug look of satisfaction on Amarantha’s face. Then I was overwhelmed by a burning need to smack her six ways from Sunday.

  “Yes, Ambassador Black?” she purred, and popped a grape in her mouth. I saw her pull the leash a little tighter, as if assuring herself that Gabriel was still hers.

  I considered and discarded several plans of action, and then decided it was best to act like myself. I never did well when I tried to play the formality game.

  “You know why I’m here,” I said. “Gabriel is not yours to own, and I want him returned to the court of Azazel.”

  “I do not think you are in a position to make demands, Ambassador Black. You have insulted me by threatening a guest in my court with bodily harm.”

  She stroked her painted nails through Gabriel’s hair. I was mesmerized by the sight, and a little nauseated. When I looked up again, I saw that she had been watching my face, and that made me angry.

  “Look, your skin show might impress other people, but mostly I think it just shows how little class you have. It’s very difficult to take you seriously as royalty when you’re dressed like a stripper.”

  Her eyes flashed and she stood up from the chaise. Christ, she was even wearing teeter-totter strappy heels. All she needed was a pole and a few dollar bills.

  “Now you insult me to my face,” she said, and as she stalked toward me she pulled on Gabriel’s leash. He crawled forward at her heels, his head down. “I will be happy to inform Lord Lucifer that his granddaughter is obviously not interested in reestablishing relations between our courts.”

  “Don’t try to threaten me with Lucifer,” I said. “Especially since you’re the one who wants your relationship to be a lot closer than it is now.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me, and I wondered if it was prudent to mention that I was informed of her baby plan. Then again, it was a lever, and I didn’t have too many of those.

  “What are you speaking of?” she hissed.

  I smiled. “I am the Morningstar’s granddaughter. I know more than you think.”

  I could see the neurons firing behind her eyes as she rapidl
y calculated how much I could possibly know. She tried for bravado.

  “I do not know to what you are referring,” she said haughtily.

  “Yep, you want to be a lot closer with Lucifer.” I tapped her on the tummy, just to make sure she knew that I knew.

  Her teeth ground together as she realized I was onto her. I was sure she didn’t want word of this getting back to Lucifer before the bun was in the oven. The whole point of a secret plan is to surprise your enemies.

  “I cannot give up the thrall,” she said, trying a different tack. “He was a gift from Lord Focalor and it would be an insult to him to return such a gift.”

  “You could regift,” I suggested. “And by the way, don’t think you’re not playing with fire with Focalor. Lucifer is definitely not going to be happy with you for negotiating with one of his underlings.”

  “Then Lord Lucifer should keep better tabs on his own kingdom,” Amarantha shot back. “What I do in my own court is my business.”

  “Unless you’re rather stupidly being maneuvered into getting between Focalor and Lucifer. In which case your kingdom will probably burn to the ground while they work out their differences,” I said.

  From the look on her face I would say that this hadn’t occurred to her.

  “Look,” I said urgently, trying to take advantage while she seemed unsure. “Give me Gabriel and we’ll go—me, Nathaniel, everyone. Tell Focalor that you need to consider carefully before you cross Lucifer, but leave the door open for future relations. Then he’ll take his toys and go home, too, and you’ll be out of it. In the meantime, I’ll get Lucifer on the problem and hopefully this little rebellion will be squashed before it goes anywhere.”

  “And what if it is not, as you say, ‘squashed’?” she asked slowly.

  “You’ll still be out of the conflict by sending everyone away from your court and not openly allying yourself with one faction. If you still want to renegotiate a treaty between Lucifer’s court and yours, I can always come back after the smoke has cleared.”

  I watched her, trying not to betray my hope. Maybe she would buy it. Maybe all of this could be fixed with logic and very little bloodshed. Maybe we would all just be able to go home.

  Then she shook her head. “I agree with you in principle, and perhaps I will take your advice regarding Focalor. But I still do not wish to give up the thrall.”

  “Amarantha,” I said, and she looked mildly offended that I was speaking to her as an equal. But I’m not big on titles, and I wanted her to feel like I was her confidant. “If you don’t give up Gabriel, then it’s tantamount to accepting Focalor as your ally. You’re insulting Azazel, and Lucifer won’t be able to tolerate it. He will be forced to include your court when he goes after Focalor.”

  “By then he may have other motivation to spare us,” she said stubbornly.

  Fine. I would say it right out even if she wouldn’t. “You’re only going to piss Lucifer off if you have Gabriel’s baby.”

  “Everyone knows Lord Lucifer is irrational about his bloodline,” she said. “That will protect me.”

  “No, it will protect the baby,” I said, speaking slowly so that she would understand. “What makes you think that Lucifer won’t kill you the second the child is born and then take that child to his own court to live?”

  For the second time Amarantha looked unsure. “He would have the wrath of all the faerie courts on his head if he did such a thing.”

  “Not if he argued that you had insulted him in the first place by using his grandson as a stud. Not if he was able to convince the other courts that the insult could only be paid with your life. If you’ve done any reading over the last thousand years, then you know that Lucifer’s powers of persuasion are quite, well, persuasive.”

  I could see all my arguments playing around in her head, and I could see just as clearly that I would fail. Amarantha was used to getting her own way, and damn the consequences.

  Then something shifted in her face, and she gave me a crafty look.

  “There may be a way for all of us to save face in this,” she said.

  “And what is that?” I asked warily. I felt a dribble of cold sweat trickle down my spine. She looked way too pleased with herself all of a sudden.

  “There could be a competition between yourself and a representative of Focalor’s camp, with the thrall as the prize.”

  “What kind of a competition?” If it was a hand-to-hand combat situation, I was probably screwed, because Antares would definitely volunteer for sister-beating duty and he had already proven that he was stronger than me.

  “A test of strength and wit and cunning. If you win, I will return the thrall to you and formally reestablish relations with Lord Lucifer. If Focalor’s representative wins, then I will accept the thrall as my gift and establish ties with his court. This seems to me a fair way to settle the argument between the two of you without becoming embroiled in the conflict.”

  “Except that if you side with Focalor for any reason, Lucifer will not take it kindly. I’d advise you to think on that—again,” I said.

  “It seems to me that you are frightened to face Focalor. If Lucifer’s court is so strong, then surely my little test will be nothing for you, and you will be on your way home with your thrall in hand tomorrow,” Amarantha said.

  I knew she was goading me. I’m not stupid. And I also knew that I was going to undertake her test no matter what. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least try to get Gabriel back.

  “I’d like some more specifics on this test before I agree,” I said.

  “As I said, a competition of strength and wit and cunning—the Maze.”

  Gabriel looked up suddenly and jerked on his leash. “Madeline, no, you must not.”

  “Silence,” Amarantha hissed.

  He stood abruptly, yanking the leash from her hands. Amarantha looked furious. He put his hands on my shoulders and gazed intently into my eyes. I reached up and covered his hands with mine.

  “You must not do this. The Maze is too dangerous.”

  “I said, silence, thrall!” Amarantha shouted. She stalked back to her chaise and pulled out a short wooden rod of the same type that J.B. carried and pointed it at Gabriel.

  “No!” I cried as she shot him with a bolt of magic from the rod.

  He fell to the floor, writhing in pain. I noticed for the first time that he wore two slim silver bracelets around each wrist. The bracelets crackled with power. So they were some kind of binding, then—to keep his abilities suppressed, I assumed, and to keep him under control when he acted up.

  I gave Amarantha a furious glare. “He’s not yours to treat like a dog.”

  “He is mine for now, and mine to treat as I wish. Are you willing to participate in my competition, and win him back?”

  I was sure the Maze would be dangerous. I was sure that she didn’t care if I lived or died, and that my death might be preferable in the long run. I was also sure that while I was risking my life she’d be trying to get Gabriel’s baby anyway, so that no matter the outcome of the contest she’d still have her child of Lucifer’s bloodline.

  “Of course,” I replied.

  “No!” Gabriel shouted from the floor. He turned to Amarantha. “You cannot let her go there. She is human; she will never survive.”

  Amarantha’s only reply was to blast him again.

  “You have accepted my offer. It is done.”

  I looked at Amarantha. “Let me know if Focalor agrees.”

  She nodded, her eyes filled with glee. She definitely expected me to get pasted.

  I glanced at Gabriel. “I will come back for you.”

  He shook his head, and I could see he was already grieving for me.

  “I will come back for you,” I said again, and then I turned on my heel and walked out.

  It probably goes without saying that J.B. and Beezle were not happy with my decision. J.B. followed me back to my room with a clenched jaw and Beezle spent the whole time
saying things like, “Who’s going to take care of me when you’re dead?” and “Is that fool really worth your life?”

  J.B. slammed my bedroom door shut behind us. “Are you out of your mind?”

  I crossed the room and dug in my pack for a granola bar. I was suddenly ravenously hungry. I unwrapped the bar and chomped it down in a few bites, then dug around looking for something else to eat. Unfortunately, Beezle hadn’t left much behind after his nervous binge this morning.

  “Did you hear me?” J.B. asked.

  “I know exactly what I’m doing,” I replied, sitting on the bed.

  “I don’t think that you do. You have no idea what’s in the Maze,” he said grimly, running his hands over his head. Whenever he got nervous or upset, he would tug on his hair. He was starting to get that bedhead-y look, and that told me more than his tone that he was really unhappy.

  “Why is it that nobody has any confidence in my ability to survive this thing?” I said. “You told me just this morning that you believed I could handle myself because I beat Ramuell.”

  “Ramuell was nothing compared to the Maze.”

  I thought about that for a minute. “Okay. So tell me what I’m facing here.”

  “I can’t. It’s different for everyone,” he said.

  “How can that be?”

  “The Maze is enchanted. Each person who enters must face their worst nightmares, their most horrible monsters. And the worst your psyche can dredge up is far more damaging than anything that Amarantha can devise. No one, and let me emphasize this, no one in over a thousand years has survived the Maze.”

  “Oh.” This was not good.

  “Right. Oh.” J.B.’s fists buried in his hair.

  “The best we can hope for is that you will return alive but insane,” Beezle said.

  “Well, on the upside, this means that Antares will probably get eaten by something,” I said. “Because I know that if there’s a competition between myself and a representative from Focalor’s court, he will be jumping up and down to volunteer.”

  “Yes, but would Focalor be willing to waste one of his best lieutenants on a suicide mission?” Beezle said. “I know that if Lucifer or Azazel was here, he would not let you do this.”