by Jane Godman
Cal’s laughter was hollow. “Persuaded? Is that what you call it? I don’t remember having any choice in the matter.”
“To think she still walks free after what she did to you. If I could get my hands around that lily-white throat of hers... Oh, have it your way. I’ll shut up, if that’s what you wish.”
Chapter 13
“Do we have a plan?” Lorcan asked the next morning as they ate breakfast.
Stella was silent. She had wondered if Cal would join her in the bed they had shared for the past few nights or whether the presence of his friend would bring about a change in his behavior. Several hours after she had gone to bed, however, she had felt the mattress sag as he lay down next to her. She had fallen asleep as his arms enclosed her with a hundred questions on her lips. They were still unanswered. Lorcan had just given voice to them.
“The plan is to get Stella to Otherworld, defeat Moncoya and fulfill the prophecy,” Cal said in response to Lorcan’s question.
“And, as plans go, that one sounds grand. I was wondering if you might have given any thought to the logistics of how those things were going to happen.”
Cal’s grin was rueful. “No,” he admitted.
Lorcan turned to Stella with an exaggerated sigh. “It was always this way. Yer man here—” he jerked a thumb in Cal’s direction “—comes up with the big plan. Let’s drive the dark witches out of Fen County. Why do we not assist in the battle of Camlan? The Dryads have a problem with the Satyrs. We should do something to help. You get the picture?”
Stella nodded. “You’re the good guys.”
“We are. We’re good at righting the wrongs. We ace the rescuing. But we don’t do subterfuge. We suck at strategy. Am I right?” He addressed himself to Cal.
Stella could tell that this was a well-worn theme. “We don’t need to be subtle.” There was a trace of stubbornness about the set of Cal’s mouth. “Not when we have the sort of combined power that can realign the planets.”
“I’m going to throw a mad idea out here.” Lorcan’s voice became serious now. “And you can challenge me if you wish. But I think we’re going to need something other than brute force this time, Cal.”
“We?” Stella looked from one to the other. “I don’t understand. I thought the prophecy said I was the one who had to do this.”
Cal laid a hand over hers. “Change of plan. I’m coming with you.”
Lorcan grinned. “Sure, and I wouldn’t be left out of an adventure like this. Not for this world or any other.”
Stella swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “Thank you.” The word came out as a croaky whisper.
Cal’s hand tightened briefly on hers. “I don’t do this very often, but on this occasion I have to admit it. Lorcan is right.” His friend made a gesture of mock surprise. “We need a plan that relies on something more than our strength. Otherwise, we will waste all our energy fighting every being we encounter from the first minute we enter Otherworld.”
“Can’t we just take Grindan and his warriors with us?” Stella asked hopefully.
“We can’t be the aggressors.” There was a touch of regret in Cal’s voice. “To ride in at the head of a vast army would only serve to alienate those elements within Otherworld who might otherwise remain neutral. No, Grindan’s role is to be summoned if you are threatened. He must be our defense, not our attack. What we need is to find a way into Otherworld that does not alert Moncoya to our real intention.”
There was that coldness again that she had seen before when he spoke of Moncoya. It made Stella shiver. “Remind me. What is our intention?”
“First, to destroy Moncoya. Second, to destroy anyone else who would harm Otherworld.”
“And then have lunch?” It was only with humor that Stella felt she could possibly listen to these schemes and retain a grip on her sanity.
“What we need is a plan that will enable us to outcunning the king of cunning,” Lorcan said, bringing them back to the point. They all fell silent. “Of course, we could just set fire to his wardrobe. That would finish the vain little...” he broke off, catching himself up on the word that was about to leave his lips “...sidhe off once and for all.”
Stella stood up. “Well, I need to bathe, so I’ll leave you two to think about it—”
“No!” Lorcan interrupted her excitedly. “I was joking, but that’s it. Don’t you see? Moncoya’s vanity is our way into Otherworld.”
“You really do want us to burn his clothes?” Cal regarded him in bewilderment.
Lorcan shook his head. “You said that Moncoya’s interpretation of the prophecy is that he has to win Stella’s love. We all know Moncoya. He’ll never believe for a minute that he couldn’t do that.”
“I don’t see where you’re going with this.” Cal frowned in an effort to follow Lorcan’s thoughts.
“That’s our way in. We give him Stella.”
“Have you gone mad?” It was Cal’s rugged velvet voice, the one that Stella imagined him using to pause oceans and flatten mountains.
“Ah, will you stop being the overprotective hero for one minute and listen? I mean we pretend to give him Stella. How do you feel about a spot of amateur dramatics, me darlin’ girl?” Lorcan turned his heartbreaking grin in Stella’s direction.
“I have a feeling you don’t mean singing and dancing.” Despite her misgivings, Lorcan’s smile was irresistible and his enthusiasm infectious. Stella resumed her seat next to Cal, feeling some of the tension ooze out of his body as her thigh connected with his.
“I mean you play the part of Moncoya’s besotted girlfriend.”
“Like hell she will.” Cal’s expression was as hard as granite.
“Have you got any better ideas? Ones that don’t involve storming in and starting a full-scale war?”
“Explain how me pretending to be in love with Moncoya is going to work.” Stella’s quiet voice cut across the strained atmosphere between the two men.
Lorcan dragged his eyes away from the staring competition he was having with Cal. “Easy. You’d get yourself into his Otherworld palace. Then you get me and Cal in there with you.”
“You don’t seem to be listening to me.” There was a knife edge of danger in Cal’s voice.
Stella laid a hand on his arm and he looked down at her. The darkness lurking in the depths of his eyes made her breath hitch. Tactfully, Lorcan rose and moved out of earshot.
“Cal...”
“No, Stella. It’s too risky.” Stella was shocked at the anguish in Cal’s voice.
“Do you think I’ll do what Moncoya wants? That I’ll become his weapon because I’ll be under his spell? Is that what this is all about? You don’t trust me to put the safety of Otherworld first.”
It was hard to believe that his muted eyes could burn with an inner fire, but Cal’s did in that instant. “Believe it or not, those concerns had not crossed my mind. My only thought was that I can’t allow you to place yourself in that bastard’s power.”
He made a jerky movement, as if to rise to his feet, but Stella forestalled him by placing her arms around him and holding on tight. For a few seconds he remained rigid in her embrace. Then, with a shuddering sigh, he relaxed. Stella reached up and, taking his face in her hands, kissed him long and hard. There was a hint of desperation in the way he kissed her back.
“Isn’t it better this way? As soon as I leave this bower, Moncoya will be waiting for me. If I am captured by him, then I end up in his power anyway. Lorcan’s plan at least ensures we stay one step ahead.”
“Whatever Moncoya’s other faults may be, he is no fool. And he is fey. His extra sense gives him a greater intuition. He will know if you are pretending.”
“You underestimate my acting ability.” Stella shook her head in mock sadness. “I was the leading light in many a sc
hool play, remember?” A slight reminiscent smile touched his lips. “I’ll be shy and a bit scared, confused about all this prophecy nonsense, utterly bewildered by this mad sorcerer who whisked me away from Barcelona against my will. I’ll throw myself on the mercy of my kindly employer.” The smile widened and Cal finally started to laugh. “Can we at least listen to what Lorcan has to say?”
He looked across at where Lorcan was seated close to the warded edge of the bower. Raising his voice slightly so that the Irishman could hear, he said, “I’ll listen, but that doesn’t mean I’ll agree.”
Lorcan strolled back to them. “Sure, aren’t you as stubborn as a demon hewn from the fires of Satan himself?”
“Is that meant to be funny?” Cal was on his feet before Stella had seen him move.
“Ah, Cal. I’m sorry.” Lorcan held his hands up in an apologetic gesture. “I spoke before I thought about what I was saying. Truly I did.”
“Stop being so touchy, Cal.” Stella tugged on his hand until he sat back down. “You get offended at me for thinking you’re an angel and are insulted when Lorcan compares you to a demon. We get it. There is nothing of heaven or hell about you.”
His laughter was shaky. “All this talk of Moncoya must be getting to me.”
“I can sympathize with that. A conversation about the faerie folk over breakfast is bad enough, but a man who wears eyeliner? That’ll turn your stomach for sure.” Lorcan shook his head. “I for one am going to need more coffee before we continue.” He lifted the pot from the fire and held it out. When he had replenished all their cups, they drank in companionable silence for a few minutes.
Stella broke the silence. “Supposing we decide to go with Lorcan’s plan. How will I contact Moncoya? I can’t just stroll back into La Casa Oscura as if nothing had happened.”
“Getting in touch with Moncoya won’t be a problem. When the falcon came to warn me that danger was on its way, I checked out what was happening in the surrounding area. It wasn’t only the wolf-man who was seeking you. There are sidhes here in Carmarthen, just waiting for the chance to get you away from me.” Cal’s lips thinned. “Even Moncoya himself has been seen close by.”
Instinctively, Stella glanced over her shoulder. “You said yourself he’s no fool. He knows I’ve been with you all this time, so he will be aware that you’ve told me all about him. I know what his motives are. I know exactly what he wants from me. Do I come across to either of you as the sort of power-crazed megalomaniac who would marry the faerie king so that she can rule over Otherworld as his necromancer consort?”
The two men studied her thoughtfully for a minute. She tried to see herself through their eyes. Short, slender and clad in one of Cal’s shirt’s that came almost to her knees. She had not yet washed her unruly dark hair, so it would be standing up in various directions. Her eyes would be greener than ever as they absorbed the colors of the surrounding forest. She knew they dominated her small, delicate-featured face. She didn’t think she was anyone’s idea of a delusional obsessive dictator. As if reading her mind, Cal and Lorcan shook their heads in unison.
“So how do I convince Moncoya that I am?”
“What you have to convince him of is that you love him so much you are prepared to do anything, even become that person for his sake. Throw yourself on his mercy.” Lorcan paused, casting a wary glance at Cal, who had clenched his fist hard on his thigh and drawn a hissing inward breath. When Cal didn’t speak, Lorcan continued. “That’s where we use the little feller’s vanity against him. Sure, doesn’t he love that sort of thing?”
“He does think he’s irresistible.” Stella nodded. To be fair to Moncoya, he had every reason to believe that. His allure was fairly potent. She didn’t voice that thought aloud. The look on Cal’s face told her it would be wise not to.
“So, having given it some thought, you’ve decided you can no longer resist him,” Lorcan said encouragingly.
“Do you really think he’ll fall for it?”
“Even if he doesn’t—even if he suspects it’s a trick—he gets his hands on what he wants.” Lorcan’s glance flicked across to Cal again then back to Stella. It was to her he spoke. “You.” The word hammered his point home.
“Since I seem to be outvoted on this, can someone explain to me how Stella acting like Moncoya’s besotted dupe enables us to achieve our objective?” It would not be fair to say Cal’s tone was resigned. It was just that he seemed to have more of a grip on his rage.
“Firstly, we don’t know who Moncoya’s allies are. Or even if he has any. If I’m right, some of our usual suspects will have jumped on the faerie bandwagon, but they may be biding their time in preparation for an attempt to get Stella onto their own side. This buys us time to find out what alliances Moncoya has made. It also gives Stella protection.”
“I am Stella’s protection.” There was nothing subdued about Cal’s fury this time. “It’s what I do.”
“And you can continue to do that in the way you have always done,” Stella assured him. “I think what Lorcan means is that, if I have Moncoya’s protection, I will be safe from rogue attacks like the one the wolf-man tried.”
Lorcan nodded. “You have to admit it. For a short, cosmetic-wearing fashion plate yon faerie feller has a fearsome reputation. Not many are brave enough to cross him. Once it’s known Stella is to be his bride...”
“Stop right there! No one said anything about marriage.” The mutinous thundercloud had descended on Cal’s face once more.
Lorcan backtracked quickly. “Once Stella’s sham engagement to Moncoya gets out, is what I meant. He’s told everyone the necromancer star will be his bride. He’s not going to settle for a bit of coy hand-holding and a promise to think about it. He will want to parade his prize before the great and good—or bad—of Otherworld. That’s where we come in.”
“Because you’ll be my guests,” Stella said, taking up the thread. “That’s how we’ll get the two of you openly into Moncoya’s palace.”
Cal’s beautiful mouth twisted into a scornful sneer. “There’s just one problem with this plan that hasn’t occurred to either of you.” They both turned to look at him. “Whether Stella invites me or not, Moncoya would rather wear an unfashionable shade of nail color than allow me within a ten-mile exclusion zone around his home.”
Chapter 14
“But I don’t want to fight with Cal,” Stella protested as she followed Lorcan toward Carmarthen.
“You two are made for each other, do you know that? Both as stubborn as all hell and neither of you prepared to listen to good Irish sense when you hear it.” Lorcan’s expression was long-suffering.
Stella cast a longing look back in the direction of the bower. If it wasn’t for that blasted prophecy, maybe she and Cal could stay there, shielded in their own bubble. What was so great about bloody Merlin anyway? Why did everyone immediately assume a long-dead sorcerer had to be right? It wasn’t a subject she had ever felt she could broach with Cal. She cast a speculative sidelong glance in Lorcan’s direction.
“Did Merlin ever get it wrong?”
He made a curious choking sound. “Get what wrong?”
“The whole prophecy thing. I thought I’d ask. You know, since my life depends on it.”
“Oh, that.” She thought he sounded relieved. “No, he never got a prophecy wrong.”
Interesting. The implication was that the great sorcerer may have got other things wrong. She stored that piece of information away for a later date. “There has to be a first time for everything, right? What if this is it?”
He shook his head. “It isn’t. Cal would not put you in the firing line if there was any margin for error.”
She decided not to pursue it. Lorcan was clearly as devoted to the memory of Merlin and the great man’s legacy as Cal. She supposed they thought of the legendary sorcerer as some sort
of founding father of their modern-day-equivalent guild. She might be persuaded to think of him in the same way over time. As long as there were no other cataclysmic predictions with her name on them lurking in the ether. Anyway, she was more interested in Lorcan’s comment that she and Cal were made for each other. It might have been a facetious, throwaway remark, but it had been made by the man who knew Cal better than anyone. She allowed herself a brief daydream in which it was true. In which Cal had no dark, centuries-old secrets that invaded his dreams and shadowed his eyes. In which he didn’t mutter that hateful word Darnantes and murmur disjointed, pain-filled phrases in a language she didn’t understand. And, if he was free of his past, perhaps she could find it in her to trust him with her heart the way she trusted him with her body. Too many ifs. Too many obstacles. Even if the obstacles had been of this century or this world...
“Is that clear?”
Stella came back to reality with the realization that she had not been listening to Lorcan. They were on the outskirts of the town now and he had been giving her some sort of instructions. “Run it by me once more,” she said, regarding the bustle of market day with misgivings. “Just so I’m clear about what we’re doing.”
“We’re going to browse the market stalls for a while. Once we’re sure there are sidhes about, you’ll wander away from me slightly. I’ll keep you in my sights, but you need to make it look like you are deliberately trying to get away from me. Then Cal will turn up and play the high-handed protector. He’s getting really good at that.” Lorcan grinned at her and Stella returned the smile. “You’ll have bit of a squabble so that the sidhes think there’s trouble between the two of you and then he’ll drag you away back to the bower. It’ll get back to Moncoya faster than you can say ‘evil faerie.’”
“What if they try to snatch me?” They were approaching the town square now and, although it was only midmorning, there was a throng of people heading for the market. Stella scanned the faces of those approaching them. So far, she had not noticed anyone who appeared to be extraordinarily beautiful.