Cast in Balefire: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Mage Craft Series Book 4)

by SM Reine

  Benjamin watched over her shoulder as she primped. He was taller than she was, and his shoulders were a bit broader than Seth’s—more like those of his father, Abel. Once adulthood’s levels of testosterone kicked in, he was going to be an impressive man, though he’d never look intimidating with eyes that soulful.

  Eyes which were currently fixed significantly lower than Marion’s face. Was he looking at her butt?

  “We should return,” Marion said.

  Benjamin’s gaze snapped to her face when she turned around. “Yeah, right.”

  He was a lot closer than she’d initially realized. He didn’t smell like leather, as Seth did. He smelled faintly of apples. Benjamin’s lower lip also did not have that scar that Seth’s did.

  “Don’t leave the party tonight until I speak with you again,” Marion said.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Benjamin said.

  Gentry courtiers from the Summer Court had descended like a beautiful storm. Each new sidhe was uniquely stunning, from the feathery gowns to the men with bare chests patterned like leopards. Many had glittering gemstones glued around their eyes like shining beauty marks.

  Marion picked out the king and queen the instant she returned to the courtyard. Konig had the charm cranked up to a thousand, and it was all turned on one particular woman.

  Titania’s expansive butterfly wings were folded behind her, draped over the bench she sat upon like a cloak of spun gold.

  If that was the queen, then the angry man behind her was the king, looming like a bodyguard who’d been given a crown. His hair was shaved into a mohawk. Long hair swept down the right side of his face and brushed his shoulder.

  Konig spotted Marion’s entrance and gestured for her to join them. “Princess!”

  The sidhe of the Summer Court parted to allow her to pass. They openly stared at her dress, so unlike the gowns the seelie wore. The sparkling billows of white made her stand out from every sidhe in the castle.

  Marion wasn’t adjusted to seelie magic, subtly different from its unseelie twin. Some of the new gentry were so powerful that her brain could only process their appearances as spills of burning sunshine into which wine vanished.

  If they hurt Marion to look upon, then they should hurt to look upon her. She’d been preparing magic for such an occasion.

  Marion lifted her hands. Waterfalls of electric blue fountained from her palms, surrounding her in ethereal veils.

  It was ostentatious, this display of power. It was so obvious that she was grandstanding. But the sidhe responded to that. They knew how to speak in terms of the aesthetic, and they shone brighter.

  Marion reached Konig without ever being touched. She let the power empty from two fingers—just two—and offered them to her king.

  He kissed her fingertips. Her power glowed in his eyes as much as his admiration. “Thank you for joining us. I’m aware you’re busy.” She’d taken too long talking with Benjamin, and he’d known that she wasn’t in the bathroom. It wouldn’t be long before Wintersong reported her activities.

  Marion dipped her head in graceful acceptance of Konig’s thanks. “I make time for foreign royalty.”

  “Foreign?” Titania’s laugh was girlish. “We’re family.”

  Marion was sick of hearing the sidhe describe one another in that way as though it were an excuse for being awful.

  The visiting queen was fatter than Dana by far, although Dana’s weight was muscle, and Titania’s was the exaggerated curves of a fertility goddess. She was beautiful in her own way. Not worthy of being a high-fashion model, as Marion was, but radiant with all her spills of ruby-bright hair and her magically tattooed arms.

  “I was surprised to see how much Konig has grown in recent years,” Titania said. “You’ve grown too, Marion. I’m quite impressed.” She lifted her beringed finger, surely expecting Marion to kiss it.

  Marion didn’t move an inch. “Thank you for coming to my kingdom.”

  Titania’s gesture transitioned easily into brushing hair out of her eyes, as if she had never intended for Marion to kiss her rings in the first place. “Sit with me.”

  Marion wouldn’t be invited to sit at her own home. She still didn’t move. “Bring them drinks,” she said to nobody in particular. “Anything they want.”

  The servants didn’t shift until Konig nodded.

  That disrespect prickled up her spine. Her magic flared with it, and now that it was flowing freely, she couldn’t seem to make it stop.

  “Let’s adjourn to our chambers and talk privately,” Marion said. She swept past Titania and Oberon.

  It took incredible amounts of self-control not to look for Benjamin. She probably wouldn’t have been able to see him anyway. Dinner was turning to lovemaking, and that meant so many moving bodies and flashes of magic that Marion was blinded.

  “She’s very rude, isn’t she?” Titania said to Konig, just loud enough that Marion could hear it.

  “She does things her way,” he replied. Marion wished that she didn’t love how pleased he looked. She wished it didn’t fill her with relief. She wanted Konig to approve of her, gods damn it all—and it felt like she’d have done anything to make that happen.

  Cheese, wine, pillows, and incense waited for them in Konig’s room. It was everything that the former rulers would have needed to reunite with other noble sidhe.

  Marion lifted one porcelain bowl and sniffed it. There was infused coconut oil inside. Basically personal lubricant.

  Dear gods, the servants think we’re going to have a foursome.

  She set the bowl firmly back on the table. Its lid clinked.

  “That’s got to be giving you problems.” Oberon was looking out the far side of the tower, toward the chilly night that leaked from the Winter Court. The sparkling forest shriveled in that direction.

  “I see why you need us.” Titania sat herself at the cheese tray and picked a few pieces, delicately transferring them to her plump lips using fingernails.

  “We haven’t had trouble with any of the locals,” Konig said. “Our concerns are more infernal.”

  Titania looked confused. “No issues with the urisk?”

  Marion’s fingers tingled with electric frost. Konig had to respond for her. “Why do you think the urisk specifically would be an issue?”

  “I’ve heard tell of the tinkers seeping out of the Wilds when other Middle Worlds are weak.” In one breath, Titania had failed to reassure Marion that she didn’t know about the assassins, and implicated the unseelie as weak. Impressive. Titania could have given Ariane a run for her passive-aggressive money.

  “Our defenses need support to stand against future demon attack,” Marion said.

  “I see.” Titania popped another piece of cheese into her mouth. “Where’s Rage?”

  “He wasn’t ready to see anyone,” Konig said.

  “But he’s alive?” Oberon asked.

  “Is there reason you’d think he’s not?”

  “Cooper vanished not long after Ofelia died. Heartbreak ripped him apart.” Those were the names of the former rulers of the Winter Court—the people whose graveyard Marion now lived in.

  “Dad’s surviving.” Konig poured two glasses of wine and gave one to Titania.

  Oberon grunted.

  “What about you?” Titania asked. “Are you okay?” She brushed her fingers along Konig’s sleeve.

  “I keep too busy to think about it. There’s so much that needs to be done.”

  “Understandably. I’m sure that we can help with that. What do you need from us?”

  “I could write books on it,” Konig said.

  Titania laughed, pushing him gently as though he’d said something really hilarious. “Oh, honey, you don’t need to go to that much trouble. We can appoint a regent for the unseelie courts.”

  “That’s not why we’ve asked for you,” Marion said, perhaps a little too sharply.

  “Nobody expects either of you to assume leadership this young.”

  �
��I’m twenty now.” Her birthday had passed with no fanfare, but it had passed, and she was no longer a teenager. “Mundane queens have reigned younger.”

  “We need support, not replacement,” Konig said.

  Titania resumed stroking his arm. “You need time to grieve.”

  “I’m happiest when focused,” he said. “Your offer is generous, Auntie, thank you—but what we need is support from your army. If your army would protect us from Arawn until we get on our feet…”

  “That’s not an easy thing to give,” she said.

  “We’re in a time of peace. What are they doing?”

  “As you know, we have a long-standing agreement with the sanctuary to provide security to them,” Titania said.

  Marion almost remembered seeing seelie sidhe around the sanctuary in the past. They protected Rylie Gresham’s family.

  “You only send people who originated from the pack,” Konig said. “People who used to be Rylie’s werewolves before Genesis, like Trevin. There’s only a handful of them. What about the rest of your army?”

  “As you said yourself, we’re in a time of peace. We don’t have much more than handfuls of soldiers sitting around.”

  “Then it sounds like you wouldn’t be able to supply a regent to the unseelie courts anyway,” Marion said. “By your claims, we have more Raven Knights than you have army.”

  Titania’s lips thinned. “I may be able to send what we have to hold your borders.”

  “Under what conditions?” Marion stood behind Konig, resting a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

  Something about Titania smelled off to Marion. It was a bright, sharp, burning scent that was simultaneously familiar but offensive. Titania’s expression was the sourest thing about her, though. “Must we make this sound like business?”

  “Forgive my bride,” Konig said. “She’s grieving too, and angels respond differently to things than we do.” He rested his hand on Marion’s. The squeeze would look reassuring to Titania, but Marion understood it to be encouragement.

  They were playing good cop and bad cop here. Konig would be as charming as he was capable—which was very charming—and Marion would be the cold angel-bitch who’d seized a throne the seelie seemed to want.

  That suited her just fine.

  “What do you need?” Marion asked. “The answer had best not be regency.”

  Oberon stalked from the windows to stand behind his wife, mirroring Marion. “You’d be lucky to have us helping you that much.”

  “We’ll train a new army for you, but we want you to send us the Raven Knights to protect us in the meantime,” Titania said. “We can’t go without personal security. You’ll have an actual army standing between you and all threats, so you won’t even miss them.”

  When she spoke, that unpleasant aroma wafted toward Marion. What was it? Burning wood?

  “That is such an incredibly generous offer,” Konig said, as if it would be a good idea to send the Raven Knights away.

  “Our army must be restricted to Myrkheimr and Niflheimr proper for the sake of their safety as well,” Titania said. “No operations in the Wilds, for instance.”

  Now that was the real reason that they were here.

  They didn’t want to help. They wanted the Wilds unguarded.

  And Marion thought she knew why.

  That smell coming off of Titania was familiar because it was similar to Marion’s own scent—the smell of angels.

  If Marion wasn’t mistaken, she thought that specific burning odor was Leliel’s.

  Konig was talking to Titania and Oberon, but Marion barely heard it. She was staring into the shining moon-face of the queen and feeling nothing but her heart pounding in her temples.

  Leliel hadn’t been sighted since her failure to sway the summit in her favor. Before she’d vanished, however, she had tried to murder Marion. She’d buried a knife in Marion’s gut personally. Only Konig’s intervention had saved her life.

  Wintersong had mentioned that the sidhe considered themselves God’s chosen people. Angels were as close to the gods that had come before Genesis.

  Leliel controls the Summer Court.

  “Let’s try different terms,” Marion said. “Don’t send us your army, but your strongest witches.”

  “Sorcerers,” Konig corrected softly. “Sidhe who specialize in spellcasting are sorcerers.” He shot an apologetic look at Titania, as if embarrassed by his wife.

  Of course, Marion already knew that sidhe spellcasters were sorcerers, just as demons who wielded magic were warlocks, and she was a half-angel mage.

  Marion huffed. “Very well, then send your sorcerers. They can ward us against threats until we can come to a consensus with our army.”

  “The only sidhe capable of remaking wards on any of the palaces is sitting in front of you,” Oberon said, stroking his fingers through Titania’s hair.

  “She may be the only one who can remake from scratch, but the unseelie courts recognize me, and they’re forming around me,” Konig said. “I don’t need the nuclear method. I need time.”

  “We’ll give you that if you meet our terms,” Titania said. “Our army trades with your knights, and nobody goes into the Wilds.” She fanned herself, on the brink of swooning. “Gods, I hate it when things get all political. I don’t want to negotiate. Why can’t we do this nicely?”

  “Wonderful question,” Marion said quietly, fixing Titania with a hard look. “Why can’t we?”

  “You wouldn’t need to if you’d made the diadem glow,” Titania said.

  Marion stiffened. Her fingernails dug into Konig’s shoulder.

  Once that blow was delivered, all the fight drained from Titania. The other queen wouldn’t hold Marion’s gaze. “I’m so tired.”

  “We can leave, kitten.” Oberon was looking intently at Marion, even if Titania wouldn’t. “If you hope to rule the sidhe, you’ll find your job a lot easier if you learn to work more as we do.”

  “You may believe you’re God’s chosen people,” Marion said, “but I am the chosen person of the gods. I am their Voice. If I were to become like you, I’d be diminishing myself.”

  Oh, the silence was so bitterly cold, colder than the Winter Court on its worst days.

  After some time, Oberon said, “Well, this will be an interesting affirmation.”

  “It will.” Titania extended a hand and Oberon pulled her to her feet. “You know what we need if you’d like help. Konig, have words with your wife before reaching out again.”

  With a gesture, Oberon made them both vanish.

  Konig laughed and laughed. The silken blossoms of flower petals parted as if to absorb his amusement. “That was amazing.”

  He swept Marion into his arms, lifting her feet from the floor.

  It had been so long since she’d been touched like that—and by a man, no less—that she stiffened instantly.

  Konig was oblivious to her discomfort. He held her so tightly that she couldn’t slip out of his hands. “Affirmation?” Marion asked. “What did they mean by that?”

  “Princess, we’re having a beautiful night together,” he said, holding her at arm’s length. “We are an incredible team. Don’t ruin it asking questions.”

  Fine then. “We can’t work with them,” Marion said, trying to force her muscles to relax. “Surrendering the Wilds? Sending away the Raven Knights? Do they have any clue what that sounds like?”

  “It sounds like they’re the ones hiding Leliel,” Konig said.

  Marion was shocked he’d noticed. “Do you think that means that they’re the ones who put the bounty on me last year?” Leliel had taken credit for it, but Marion had always been convinced the angel was trying to protect someone.

  “Until we know for sure, we can’t cooperate with them,” he said.

  “I agree completely. Further, I think we should watch for attacks from their edges of the Middle Worlds. This was an attempt to probe how well they can control us, and now they know they can’t…”


  Konig pulled her into an embrace again. When she looked up at his face, there was no humor in his burning eyes. His laughter wasn’t amusement, but near-hysteria. “We’re going to fight against people who raised me.”

  11

  Meanwhile, in the courtyard, Benjamin Wilder was witnessing his first orgy.

  “Oh gods,” he said, staring into his wine glass. It didn’t help protect him from seeing all the naked people getting it on around him. The liquid was reflective, and the sidhe’s magic was powerfully distracting.

  A woman sitting on the other side of the press table chuckled. “Is this your first time here?”

  “First time since I came of age,” Benjamin said. Whenever he’d been in the courts before, he’d been younger than sixteen, and relegated to all the spaces that children were. The sex-free spaces.

  “It’s an interesting assignment for such a young journalist, isn’t it?” She looked like she actually belonged among the press, unlike Benjamin. She was a slender woman in a dove-gray skirt suit. Her charcoal hair was pulled into an elegant spiral at the nape of her neck. Older than him, for sure, but by how much? He couldn’t tell.

  “I’m not exactly a journalist.” He reached across the table. “Benjamin Flynn, writing for Heron-Hart Publishing.”

  She shook his hand. “Jaycee Hardwick.”

  He dropped her hand in shock. “Of Hardwick Medical Research?”

  “The same.”

  Jaycee Hardwick wasn’t press. She was unseelie sidhe. Her mate, Pierce Hardwick, had invented the cure for silver poisoning.

  “Oh my gods. It’s such an honor,” Benjamin said.

  “I know,” Jaycee said.

  A Hardwick. Wow. Benjamin couldn’t tell her how much he was indebted to their work on preternatural medicine. If not for the Hardwicks, Benjamin’s dad would have been killed by assassins years back. Half his friends would have been dead too.

  He settled for saying, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be…?” His gaze flicked briefly to the naked, moaning, thrusting people, and his cheeks caught fire.

  “We’ve never been those type of sidhe. I wanted an opportunity to speak with you.”