by Gwynn White
Fae and faeries jammed the walkway along the main road. From every balcony and window, the Yatres flag fluttered. Laurel, dried oranges, and spices were strewn on the road to be trampled under the horses’ hooves. The heavy scent they kicked up almost drowned out the reek of sweat and latrines. Shrill voices rose as they caught sight of her.
Just yesterday, this same crowd had cheered for Ayda.
Soul-Forged flickered red in his sheath.
She swatted him. I don’t like the look of that.
What did Dominik’s ward help if the real threat was on her hip?
“Neither do I, Nasty Reaper,” he muttered. “Fickle-hearted Fae. They will cheer when you die, too.”
Any plans for that to happen today?
“Maybe. Just maybe. Our Bone. It’s—”
Dominik bumped her knee. “Sorry, Caeda, but you need to stand. The king will expect it.”
Couldn’t he see Soul-Forged glowing?
She gritted her teeth and stood, clutching the side of the carriage with one hand while she waved with the other. To Dominik, she said, “Soul-Forged is worried about the—”
Something dark and cold flashed before her. It blanketed out the street and the celebrating Fae.
She sucked in a breath, but tasted mildew and damp instead of orange, laurel, and spice. The air before her shimmered. It cleared, as if a silk sheet had just been ripped from her face.
A windowless space with one iron door lay before her. It looked new. Red and blue light flickered in the darkness. It seemed to be coming from her, although the form she occupied—hard and brittle—was nothing like her supple, fit body.
“There he is!” Soul-Forged screeched so loudly that her mind was pulled back into the carriage. She slumped onto the bench and clutched her head. “Look, Nasty Reaper, look,” he bellowed. “Our Bone!” He wailed. “He’s in the dark. And the damp. All alone. And weak. He’s so—”
The bolts on that iron door clicked.
The door swung open.
Someone dressed in black from head to toe, with a cloak covering their face, scuttled toward her.
Would he or she see her? She reached for Soul-Forged, but found no arm or hand to grasp him with.
Soul-Forged snarled, “A thief, a scoundrel, a lying little servant. Don’t hurt our Bone.”
Beyond the open doorway, dusty orange light spilled onto a moth-eaten stag’s head mounted on a filthy red wall. The stench of piss and ale would have made her retch if this calcified body had a stomach.
The door slammed shut.
The cloaked thief stroked the Bone.
A tongue of red light lashed out of Soul-Forged.
It struck a gargoyle the size of a youngling on an archway. The stone cracked, and the gargoyle tumbled just as the king’s carriage rattled beneath it.
“Oooh,” Soul-Forged gloated. “The king’s going to be crushed! What a laugh.”
She—and Dominik—yelled a warning.
The king roared, and fire flared from his fingers. It exploded against the gargoyle.
Debris peppered down onto the carriage.
The queen covered her head with her arms, but her gown was quickly powdered with golden dust. The four bay horses bucked and whinnied in their shafts.
The cries of joy from the crowd changed pitch as they scattered, pressing back against the walls or running down narrow alleyways.
Another bolt of red light cracked from Soul-Forged. The force of it lifted her a foot into the air and then tossed her off her seat. She crashed onto the floor between her bench and Dominik’s.
“Caeda! Caeda! Talk to me. Caeda!”
She opened her eyes.
Dominik’s desperate face was just an inch from her nose. “You’re alive! Thank everything good in this world.”
He rocked back on his heels in the narrow space between the benches.
She groaned. Never before had her head ever ached the way it did now.
He grabbed her arm, and together they struggled up. It didn’t help that the carriage veered and rocked through the streets. The driver’s whip cracked, and the racing horses sped up.
Dominik levered her back onto her seat. He sat next to her. Head throbbing, she lay back with her eyes closed to keep from vomiting. “I—Is… are the king and queen—”
“They’re fine. Heading back to the palace. As are we.” He brushed her hair away from her face. It stuck to her sweaty cheeks. “You’re as pale as all hell. Catch your breath, and then we can talk.” His caring voice hardened. “And if that Sword tries any more tricks like that, I swear, I will incinerate it.”
“Ha! Sad Fae could try, but not even he is powerful enough to destroy Soul-Forged.”
She patted Dominik’s hand, remembering his outrage at her suggestion that she cremate the Bone. “What kind of Yatres lord are you?”
“A highly pissed-off one.” He shifted next to her. “I promised—no, guaranteed your safety. I was a fool, and I hope you will forgive me.”
She patted his hand again. “If I speak, I will throw up on you.”
“Be my guest. It would be nothing I don’t deserve.” But he fell silent as they rocked back up the hill.
She must have dozed off. When she opened her eyes, they were back in the stable yard at the Round Palace.
King Kaist bore down on her. His brown hair, ruddy skin, and lavish tunic, surcoat and leggings were caked with dust. He stabbed a stubby finger at her. “Your thief attacked me in my own capital. My Fae will think they can’t rely on their king and their Soul-Reaper to protect them.”
She scrambled to her feet and bowed shakily. When she straightened, it was only Dominik’s hard body pressed against her that stopped her collapsing. She’d ever be grateful to him for his support. She cleared her throat. “Sire, Soul-Forged confirmed that the Bone has been weakened.”
“Do you think I’m stupid, Soul-Reaper?” the king snarled. “If it wasn’t, I’d be dead. That stunt with the gargoyle was nothing more than an attempt to sow panic and terror among my Fae, and to strengthen my enemies.”
“I caught a glimpse of the Bone, sire.”
Dominik sucked in a breath.
King Kaist leaned in close. “Where was it?”
She wasn’t going to say that she’d been in the Bone. Not yet, at least. Not until she was sure of what had happened. She understood now why Fae who didn’t carry the weight of the Sword and the Bone could mock that the Soul-Reaper was crazy.
“In a dark room, sire. In a tavern, I think. I saw the thief, but can’t identify him other than to say he was big.” She spread her hands to the sides of her shoulders. The Fae she’d seen was broader and taller than any of the suspects on her lists, but that didn’t mean anything. Soul-Forged had mentioned a servant.
He hummed with approval. It didn’t stop him hanging on her waist like a bag of rocks intent on dragging her to the bottom of a lake.
The king wiped a grimy hand across his face. “Dominik, work with Lady Caeda on this. Take the guard, search every tavern in the city. Go to every tavern in Yatres if you must, but find that Bone. Report back to me. In the meantime, I must meet with my council. They will need placating.” He stalked off.
“Well, that went well.” She sighed, then pushed back against Dominik.
He stepped away from her. “Let’s get you to your apartment. It seems there’s a lot we need to talk about.”
The carriage door swung open. Dain stood next to it with an outstretched hand.
Her shoulders sagged. “Never thought I’d ever be so pleased to see your ugly face.” She smiled wanly.
“Speak for yourself. You look like the morning after a bad night.”
“Gee, thanks.” She started to climb out on her own.
Dain blocked her path. “Don’t be a stubborn ass, Caeda.” He shoved his hand at her.
Too drained to argue, she took it. Heat burned her cheeks. “It’s the Sword,” she said defensively. “It sucks the guts out of me.”
Dain
leaned in close. “You don’t need to make excuses. I saw what it did to Ayda. I get it.”
He’d seen Ayda muttering crazily on the battlefield. That’s what he was comparing her to? Still, as much as it burned her to need the help, she let him pull her out of the barouche. He stood aside for Dominik.
“Thanks, lieutenant,” Dominik said crisply. “But I’ve got her.” He took her arm and started walking with her away from Dain.
She dug in her heels. “Wait.”
Dominik stopped, but a frown creased his perfect face.
She waved Dain over. “Dominik and I have to search the city for the Bone. I want you with me.”
Dain, at least, was one Fae she trusted implicitly, and she wanted him at her back.
He bowed to her. But instead of it being the sign of respect Dain probably intended, it knotted her stomach. “I’ll await instructions from Garrik, my lady.”
Of course, she would need to arrange it with their—his—commanding officer.
She dug her fingernails into his arm. “Stop the bowing and the ‘my lady’ crap. I’m still Caeda, the Fae who can drink you under the table and whip your butt in a sword fight.”
He smiled his beautiful, broad smile. “Just keep that particular Sword far, far away from me.”
“You and me both.” She nodded at Dominik. “Let’s go talk.”
They had a raid on the city taverns to plan.
12
A fire burned in the hearth in Caeda’s sitting room. She sloughed off her cloak and raced ahead of Dominik to reach it first. She stumbled to her knees before it.
Tucked in his sheath, Soul-Forged plunked onto the rug next to her.
Desperate to be rid of him for a while, she clawed at the buckle on her belt. Even when it fell loose and Soul-Forged tumbled onto the carpet, the weight on her mind—on her soul—didn’t ease. She clasped her throbbing head. Every soul in the Round Palace, in the city, in Yatres, seemed to call to her in a swirl of light so giddying she wanted to hurl.
Was she never to be free again?
A tentative hand pressed to her back. It rubbed small, gentle circles. “Just breathe,” Dominik murmured.
She leaned into him, wishing she could trust him the way she counted on Dain.
“Just imagine the weight sliding off your shoulders like silk,” Dominik crooned.
Nice idea. Instead, she turned her inward eye at him to distinguish his soul from the other brash colors. A kaleidoscope churned in him, sometimes red, sometimes blue, occasionally shades of purple. Even black.
It told her nothing, other than the world was a gray place, and the only way to really know Fae was to do what she’d always done: work with them until they revealed themselves.
She opened her eyes and let out a slow breath.
Dominik kept rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Better?”
She nodded, still not trusting herself to speak without wheezing. She turned to glower at Soul-Forged.
He lay dark and silent on the carpet.
Good.
She sat back on her haunches and looked at Dominik. All trace of his irreverent humor had gone, replaced by sharp-eyed stillness. What must it have been like for him to watch Ayda slowly lose her mind over the years?
She hoped she’d never find out.
“The Bone,” she said hoarsely. “I saw a stag’s head on the wall. And it was papered with red.”
“The stag’s head?”
“The wall, you idiot.”
His wicked smile twitched.
So he’d said that on purpose. She forced her shoulders to relax and smiled back at him.
He cupped her face with a warm hand. “Let’s keep our sense of humor, shall we? Or we’ll both go mad.”
Remembering Taliesin, she pulled away. “You mean you don’t want to join me?”
“Not today,” he said firmly. His hand dropped. “Spill. What happened?”
She told him every detail—excluding the part where she and the Bone became one.
“I would imagine mangy stags’ heads and tacky red wallpaper are all the rage in Woocerk.”
She nodded glumly. None of the classier establishments away from the gambling district would have smelled so bad, or looked so seedy. “I know. But—” She gnawed her cheek. He watched her expectantly. “The king said to raid every tavern, but if we go crawling through the city with the Royal Guard in tow—”
“The thieves will move the Bone.”
“Exactly.”
His eyebrows rose. “Which begs the question about taking the guards.”
A chill shot through her. “You want us to go alone?” Why was it that every time she was coming to trust Dominik, he said or did something like this?
He canted his head. “Think about it, Caeda. You had the vision. You have the Sword. The less conspicuous we are, the better. If you really want to take Dain, then let’s leave it at that.”
“The king was very clear in his instruction, Dominik.”
“The king was angry and scared. If he stopped to think about it, he would agree.”
Soul-Forged perked up. “Sad Fae is right, Nasty Reaper. Cruel Fae doesn’t think. He just commands. We can’t risk them moving our Bone.”
She gnawed her cheek until it bled. She’d never disobeyed a direct order before. Could she do so now? And if she couldn’t, what would happen when she was commanded to reap souls?
She sighed. “If I ask Garrik for Dain, he will insist that I take a whole contingent of guards.”
Dominik said nothing. Was he letting her work through it herself?
She changed the subject. “We need something more definitive than tacky wallpaper and dead wildlife if we’re to find the tavern.”
“You’re a soldier who drinks other Fae under the table, surely you know your way around the seedier parts of Upper Whaivag.”
As grateful as she was that he didn’t push her to make a decision, she punched his arm playfully. “Watch it, pretty boy. I’m a classy girl. But that doesn’t mean I won’t knock your lights out if you malign me.”
He laughed with her and stretched out before the fire like a cat.
A panther.
She stared into the flames so he wouldn’t see her drooling over his beautiful, powerful body.
He propped his head onto his arm. “There has to be someone we know who frequents Woocerk.” His other hand tapped out a rhythm on the rug as he watched her.
Could he possibly know about Zella? He seemed to know everything else about her.
Even the blood pumping in her veins seemed to still.
“Ah-ha,” Soul-Forged chimed. “Your sister in the Lotus and the Lady with a pocket full of coins, and a lotus tattoo on her palm.” His voice turned nasty. “My, my, what will your Sad Fae think of her? What will he think of you when he sees how much Zella despises you?”
That hit a painful nerve. Zella’s rejection had been a low point in her life. It doesn’t matter what Dominik thinks of me, she said, despite the heat staining her cheeks. All that matters is finding the Bone.
And it would be wonderful to see her sister again, even if Zella wouldn’t welcome her into her life.
Soul-Forged flickered dull blue. “And what will Nasty Reaper do when she finds our Bone? Cruel Fae will want her to wield it—and me. He’ll command you to steal souls and stars and light and force them into black, black pits.”
She dug her fingernails into her hair to shut him up. I won’t do it—
Soul-Forged barked a laugh. “You would defy your king? You can’t even make up your mind not to take Dain. Soul-Forged is old, Nasty Reaper. He’s wise. Oh so very wise. He says you will feed our Bone, same as every Soul-Reaper before you.”
A thousand images of her saluting flashed through her mind.
She snarled, Trickster! That’s low, even for you.
Soul-Forged cackled.
Dominik touched her face. “Unless he’s got something positive to contribute, tell him to shut up.”
&nb
sp; His touch anchored her. She said out loud, “Soul-Forged, you heard what Sad Fae said.”
Soul-Forged huffed, but slithered into the dark reaches of her mind.
In the quiet, Dominik stared at her—quizzically. “Do I even want to know why I’m ‘Sad Fae’?”
She shrugged. “He’s got a name for everyone. I’m Nasty Reaper. Taliesin is sour. Izanna, greedy. King Kaist, cruel. Elion, cheeky. I wouldn’t read too much into it.”
He sat up and stretched his long legs out between them. “I didn’t choose Taliesin. I don’t even respect her, let alone like her. Any more than she likes me. But she knows she needs a powerful mage to rule Yatres, so she’s accepted me the way I’ve accepted her.”
She picked at a thread on her sleeve. “It’s the why that I don’t understand.”
“Nothing complicated about it. I’m the oldest of seven siblings.” He laughed hollowly. “It seems all the magic went to me. Elion has a bit, but nothing special. My father expects me to make up for that failing by being everything everyone else can’t be.” His energy darkened, as if the weight of all those magic-less siblings crushed him. “The fact that I was—am—in love with someone else didn’t feature.”
No wonder Soul-Forged called him sad. Her insides writhed that his heart wasn’t free, even for Taliesin.
Not to mention herself. Whoever his love was had to be someone special.
Her stomach somersaulted as she recalled his touch when their skin brushed, the strokes of his massage, his breath against her skin.
Idiot. Get your head out of your butt and see reality, Caeda.
To think that Lord Dominik Dakar could possibly love her was not only stupid, it was humiliating. Nobility didn’t fall in love with their guards.
“So you agreed to marry Taliesin to make up for their so-called shortcomings.”
He smiled at her heated face. “It always amuses me to see you angry. And yes, my father considers a lack of magic a shortcoming. I don’t. But like you, Caeda, I just do my duty.” He ran his hands across his face. When his astonishing green eyes reconnected with hers, all darkness had vanished. “Now, we were talking about finding someone who knows Woocerk. Any suggestions?”