A Tale of Two Kingdoms (Knights of Black Swan, Book 6)

by Danann, Victoria

  Rosie giggled. “You’re hopeless.”

  “And is that why you wanted to see me?”

  “No. I need to get out of town for a while, change of scenery. Maybe I need to broaden my experience.”

  “Get out of town,” he repeated drily. “What does your mother think of this?”

  “She thinks she can get in touch with you if there’s an emergency and that you’ll know where to find me.”

  The angel pursed his lips, stood and paced for a while. “Vacations are fun. Sabbaticals are informative. Quests are enlightening, sometimes cathartic. Retreats are rejuvenating. Treks are adventurous. This?” He stopped and looked at Rosie. “This sounds like running away. Hard to put a noble spin on running away.”

  “I’m not necessarily asking for your blessing, Lally. Just a place to…”

  “…hide?”

  Rosie flushed. “It’s a favor.”

  Kellareal looked at her for a long time. “I can’t decide without hearing the whole story. I want to know exactly what it is you’re running from and what you’re hoping to gain.”

  By the time Rosie finished spelling it out, she was sorry she had started the whole thing. Spelling out what had brought her to that mountaintop sounded spoiled, selfish, childish and silly, even to herself as she said it. She supposed that was one of the angel’s goals in having her connect the dots out loud. She hoped that the worst of it, humiliation-wise, was over.

  “Have you thought about how long you want to be away?”

  She hadn’t thought about it.

  “Do I have to decide that now?”

  “No. I suppose you can do a pay-as-you-go plan.”

  “Wait. What do you mean pay-as-you-go?”

  The angel took her elbow and pulled her to her feet. Standing several inches taller, he looked down into her face. “You’re right, Elora Rose. It is time for you to learn something of the world. First lesson, nothing’s free.”

  A few minutes later they were standing on the periphery of an enclosure – a crude, gray stone wall. From what Rosie could see, there were homes and buildings built around a park-like commons area with sparse gas lighting, but the overall impression of the place was of a fort. Through a break in the wall that formed a gate with iron bars, she could see that they were on a hilltop overlooking the lights of a large town.

  The air was scented with the welcoming smell of wood burning fires releasing white smoke into the atmosphere. The prominent feature of the compound was a long row of motorcycles, some of which had parts shiny enough to reflect in the cold moonlight.

  “Where are we?” Rosie asked.

  “It’s a project of mine, Rosie. A secret. You can’t ever tell anyone.”

  “Okay.”

  “Promise.”

  “I do.”

  “They’re what’s left of Telstar.”

  “Telstar? Isn’t that one of those worlds that went crazy with genetic engineering?”

  “I guess it depends on what you mean by ‘went crazy’.”

  “Okay. Let me put it this way. You start out with a wolf. You end up with a Shih Tzu or a Pug. You start out with a human, you end up with a ...”

  “The flaw in your argument is the owners of dogs like that would say they’re an improvement on the prototype.”

  Rosie blinked. “So you’re saying you’re taking me to a place where I should be prepared for…” She left the end of that sentence for him to fill in the blank.

  “Okay. Consider this your briefing in a nutshell. There were some experiments that went on for a couple of generations. People became concerned and even invoked religious invective to fuel a movement to eradicate all the produce of the experiment.”

  “Produce?” He nodded. “You mean the people?”

  “That is what I mean and I, ah, intervened. I saw an opportunity to solve two problems. There was a group of people here in need of protection, which is one of the ways Telstar skills might be used. This group was under threat of genocide. I knew the Telstar survivors would relate. So I paired them with the humans that needed them. “

  He waved his hand at the darkness. “It’s pretty here. This dimension hasn’t been ruined yet. Lots of everything. Gives them a chance.” He looked at Rosie. “You know?”

  “Wasn’t that against some rule?”

  The angel pursed his lips and heaved a big sigh. “Rules need to be placed in the context of knowing the rule makers. And their agenda.”

  Rosie studied his face in the darkness. “Lally, you’re an anarchist.”

  “Guess that depends on who you talk to.”

  “Are there others?”

  “Other elementals who think like I do?” She nodded. “Yeah. Anyway. They’ve been here for a while now. Some have started families. Their own take on culture is starting to emerge. Interesting to watch. The one in charge of the place is a nice fellow with a nice family. Owes me a favor. Simple as that.”

  “Does everybody in the multiverse owe you a favor?”

  His mouth twitched at the corner as he looked down at her. “Working on it.” His eyes drifted back to the settlement. Rosie thought she saw a hint of pride. Proud sponsor perhaps.

  “This could be a good place to get your thoughts sorted out. They’ll give you a job and who knows? Maybe a new perspective. So welcome to the EC. That’s what they call it, short for Exile Camp. By the way, don’t mention Telstar. They don’t like to be reminded. I don’t blame them. They left that behind to start a new life.” He turned to face Rosie. “A new world really.”

  She looked around again. “What’s with the motorcycles?”

  His expression was definitely sheepish. “Oh, they, the Telstar, like them. A lot. So they became part of our arrangement. I made an adjustment to the engines so they’ll run on water and threw tools and maintenance stuff in with the deal.”

  “Are you saying that there weren’t motorcycles here before?”

  “No. Every dimension develops differently. You know that.”

  “Well, yes… So how did you get motorcycles here?”

  He laughed. “Rode them.”

  “You did not.”

  He nodded, grinning. “One at a time.”

  “I didn’t know you could ride a motorcycle through the passes.”

  “For all I know, I’m the only one who knows it. Let’s keep it that way. Okay?”

  She shrugged. “Okay. What do they look like?”

  “Look like?” Kellareal laughed out loud. “Oh, sweet baby.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Song and Duff hopped along the route he had mapped out. They had lots of time to collapse a courtship into a matter of days, alone together in the cab of a private aircraft that would seat four, but felt perfect for two. They told each other their favorite autobiographical stories, their likes and dislikes, their opinions about everything from politics and ecology and economy to kilts and food. Song tried to carefully recall every detail of Glen’s account of the division of the Dana people into elves and fae so that she could repeat it close to verbatim.

  They were held over at the Igaluit outpost for an extra day because of bad weather, but they spent the day in bed and were glad of it. Since they had made it to the Northwest Territories and were officially under the protection of the Canadian government, they shed a world of stress and smothered each other in the carefree regard that mates normally share with partners.

  They would be surprising the world with their announcement on the fifth day of their elopement. When they arrived in Quebec, a crowd of reporters was waiting along with a full security team to escort them to the Fairmont Le Chateau Frontenac where they would give a joint press conference with the Prime Minister and then spend a day enjoying the oldest city in North America.

  Elora had finished her afternoon class and was looking forward to spending the rest of the day with her boys. She turned the key to the apartment and was overwhelmed by the marvelous smell. Ram must have decided to cook something wicked spicy for dinner. The TV on the kit
chen bar was turned on, but Ram wasn’t in sight. He must have been watching while he cooked.

  She stepped over to the stove and stirred flanked steak pieces with poblano peppers and she wasn’t sure what all else was in there.

  Ram came walking out of the bedroom saying something into the phone. He looked up at her with eyes gone dark just as he was saying goodbye and closed the phone. She could tell from a mile away that something was way off.

  “What’s wrong, Ram?”

  He came around the bar slowly and stood over the stove. “That was Dougherty. Remember him? Orderly from Edinburgh?”

  Elora shook her head. “No. Why?”

  “Works in the clinic. I got to know him when Helm was born, while you were recoverin’ from hypothermia.”

  “Oh. Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “Strangest fuckin’ thin’.” Ram gave the colorful concoction a stir, turned the heat down to low, and faced Elora leaning back against a counter. “He says he saw you in Edinburgh last Thursday. Says some fella drove you right up to Charlotte Square. Says you got out, said goodbye, got back in the car and drove it under the Headquarters buildin’ to the garage. Says the ‘gentleman’ walked off t’other way.” Ram’s nostrils flared just a little when he punctuated the word ‘gentleman’ with air quotes.

  He paused while he studied Elora’s reaction. “Said this was a nice lookin’, well-dressed, fae fella about your age, sandy hair, couple a inches over six feet. Course I would have liked to tell him he was sorely mistaken, but there’s no one looks like you, to be sure.

  “So tell me. This sudden shoppin’ trip to London you were needin’ so badly because of the strain of the baby and the battle and so forth.” He looked around for dramatic effect. “Where are the packages?”

  “Ram,” Elora began quietly, cautiously because she could see he was a lit fuse. “You can not be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting. I’m elf. Mated to you and utterly incapable of what I think you’re suggesting.”

  “Elf. Well, you’re… what was that? Ninety-six percent? Ninety-eight percent? Maybe the other missin’ percents are doin’ somethin’ besides roundin’ the points of ears.” She winced a little at that. “All I know is that you told me you were shoppin’ in fuckin’ London with my best friend’s wife while you were in fuckin’ fairyland doin’ what?” He paused for a breath thinking he could get control, but failed. His eyes flashed. “WHERE. ARE THE. PACKAGES?”

  “Being shipped. You know you can’t lug packages through the passes.”

  Ram searched her eyes and grew quiet. “Please tell me that’s no’ all you have to say to me.”

  Just as Elora opened her mouth, their attention was jerked away from the conversation by hearing a familiar name on the bar TV that had been left on. Princess Aelsong Hawking.

  When Ram turned and saw his sister sitting in between the Prime Minister of Canada and the fae prince, his jaw went slack and the color began to drain from his face. The Prime Minister was speaking.

  “Prince Torquil and Princess Hawking are a couple. They formally applied for political asylum and it has been granted. They hope that their families, their governments, and their people will accept them, but if that doesn’t happen, they’re prepared to become Canadian citizens.”

  Ram’s knees bent. He sank downward until he was sitting on the floor. “My sister is a traitor.”

  “Ram!” Elora gaped at him.

  He moved his face toward her, but was looking through eyes that were dazed and unfocused. “My sister is a traitor. My mate is no’ faithful. How can these thin’s be?”

  “Rammel. You need to snap out of it. Neither one of those things is true.”

  The unfocused look in Ram’s eyes seemed to clear just a little as he repeated, “No’ true.”

  As she watched, the haze then dissipated quickly and was replaced with a sharpness that was too sudden for comfort. He pinned Elora with a look.

  “No. ‘Tis no’ true, is it? You were no’ with that bugger because you were bein’ unfaithful to me. You were there because you were helpin’ them!”

  He exploded to his feet. For a moment Elora thought he might try to throttle her. She’d never seen him so angry. Then she remembered what Song had whispered right before she’d flown away.

  Elora reached out to touch him, but he stepped back.

  “Ram,” she said softly, “Tell me something. Did you choose me?”

  His brows drew together. “What?”

  “Did you choose me to be your mate?”

  His brows snapped together. “What in Paddy’s name does that…?”

  “It has everything to do with this,” she interrupted. “Answer. Did. You. Choose. Me.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and stared for a few beats with his scowl firmly in place. Finally he said, “No.”

  Elora nodded. She said nothing more, but watched the lines smooth away from his brow as the profound truth of that gradually sank in.

  “I did no’, but it feels like I did.”

  “It’s the same for me. I don’t know what love is. I don’t know where it comes from or where it goes. I only know it’s what I feel for you. And if somebody took you away from me, I would die. That’s not drama. It’s not exaggeration. It’s just a fact.” Ram stared. “So do you know what I’m going to say next?”

  “Aye. You’re goin’ to say, ‘What if I was fae?’”

  “Yeah. What if?’

  He slowly closed the three steps between them and pressed her so close she could barely think.

  “Nothin’ could stop me. No’ so long as I had breath.”

  She put her face in his neck and inhaled the comfort of his scent, musk and wild fern. “Do you know what I’m going to say next?”

  “Aye. You’re goin’ to say she’s my sister and I should bloody well be on her side.”

  “And what will you say to that?”

  He looked down and to the side. “I do no’ think I have any choice but to agree. My wife has an invisible, but permanent grip on my balls.” For that she blew a raspberry into the skin of his neck that she’d been nuzzling a moment before. “So you say, but ‘tis a shit storm the size of Ireland and Scotia combined. And I am just one elf. ”

  She had to chuckle at that. “Humility’s not a good fit for you, Rammel.”

  “No’ tryin’ to be cute. Elves are stubborn. Fae are pissy and unreasonable. Sortin’ this out, well, ‘tis goin’ to take more good intentions.”

  “It’s a good thing we have an inside man at the Irish royal house.” She squeezed his buttocks with both hands then looked around. “Where’s Helm?”

  Coupling the action with the question, his grin turned lascivious. “Elsbeth’s. Entertainin’ Finn.” That revelation was punctuated with a well-placed tongue at the base of her throat and fingers that worked their way inside the waist band of her pants so that he could give her a return squeeze hand to cheek.

  “How about this for a plan? You make sweet love to me to show me how you’re never going to doubt me again because, whatever those mystery percents are doing, they belong to you and only you and you know that all the way down to your beautifully formed toes. Then you can feed me yummy, spicy dinner while I tell you a story about your ancestors.”

  He smiled as he continued nuzzling her neck. “You like my toes?”

  Elora was thinking about whether or not to answer honestly when Ram’s phone rang. He paid no attention. He was on a mission working a path of alternating nuzzles, kisses and licks. Without thinking about it she glanced down at the bar and saw that it was his mother calling.

  “It’s your mother.”

  Ram stopped like a freeze frame, but only for a fraction of a second. “Ignore it,” he said in a raspy voice.

  She wanted to do exactly that, badly, but she pulled back instead. “Any other time. But I can’t. You can’t.” She picked up the phone and handed it to him.

  His shoulders slumped, but he took it looking resigned. “Mum.” Pause.
“Mum” Pause. “Mum.” He looked up at Elora with big pleading eyes. “Mum, I can no’ understand with you cryin’ like that.”

  After the press conference, the Prime Minister lingered for a private meeting with her country’s two newest celebrity guests to ask about their plans. The woman did not relax just because everyone else had left the room. Aelsong may have found the experience remarkable, possibly harrowing, but the head of the Canadian government took it in stride.

  “I am principle holder in a Canadian corporation that owns a lovely property east of Prince George. We plan to live there for now.”

  Madame Minister’s facial expression was a pleasant mask that gave away nothing, but she raised a brow slightly at that. “I see. What are your plans for security?”

  Duff was clearly not prepared for that question. “We did no’ make plans for security. We wish to live as private individuals, no’ as public or political figures.”

  She stared for a couple of beats before smiling in a way that almost looked like she felt pity for them. “If wishes were fishes.”

  Duff looked at Song, who shook her head slightly. “Pardon?”

  She took in a deep breath. “You must know that, while this is all very romantic, it’s also made a lot of people very, very angry. I can’t welcome you into my country and not give you any protection. If something happens to you here, how do you think that would make me look?”

  “Honestly, I had no’ thought about how it would make you look.”

  “Clearly not. Young people are always thinking only about themselves.” She shook her head briskly as if intending to appear firm. “No. Security is a mandate and, obviously, it shouldn’t be a financial burden on the Canadian people. So you need it and you need to pay for it.”

  Duff stared at the Prime Minister. “It would have been very helpful if you’d mentioned this before today.” She shrugged. “So how much security is bein’ mandated?”

  At the wave of a hand to the guard just inside the door, he opened for a suited man carrying a file. He walked briskly, with great economy of movement, to the oval table sitting at the end of the room inside a giant bay window. The Prime Minister nodded toward a chair next to her. He sat and laid the file on the table in front of him.