7
Fane could practically see the gears whirring in Marjani’s intelligent brain.
Gods, she fascinated him from the top of her shaved head to the tips of her cute little toes. She was so serious, so determined. He wanted to tease her, see her unbend a bit. Make her smile. So far all he’d seen was that twitch of her lips in the pub when she’d tried not to be amused.
Someday, he vowed, he’d coax a true smile out of her…but today was not that day. He was genuinely worried about her. The woman had no idea what she’d walked into.
She recovered quickly. “What’s this wolf’s name?”
“No idea. There was an earth fada hanging around the court last year. Corban. But I don’t know if it’s the same guy—I never saw him as his animal. All I know is the wolf in the cage wears an earth fada’s quartz.”
She worried the bottle label with her thumbnail. “He’s black? What color are his eyes?”
“Hell, I don’t know. I only got a quick look at him. He’s in a tower that belongs to one of the king’s top advisors.”
Her fine brows drew together. “It must be him. Corban.”
“You know him?”
“Yeah,” she said flatly. “He’s my cousin. But in a cage?” She shook her head. “We thought he was working with the ice fae.”
“He was,” Fane confirmed. “But things have changed. The only fada in the court are caged or under a geas.”
A geas was an obligation or prohibition, binding to the person who accepted it. Breaking a geas was almost impossible, and if you did manage it, you’d lose what mattered to you most—wealth, your magic, even your life. But observe a geas, and you gained power, or money, or whatever you most wanted…but especially power.
And power was everything in the ice fae court—especially since Lady Blaer had come of age.
“I see.” Marjani rubbed her forehead. He saw with a pang that she had bruised shadows under her eyes, and he could swear she’d lost weight in the week since he’d last seen her. “This…changes things.”
“Leave.” He leveled a hard look at her. “I’m telling you again—get the hell out of Iceland. You can’t save your friend.”
“Friend?” The corner of her mouth quirked. “You think I’m here to save that asshole?”
“Then why are you here?”
Her gaze slid from his.
“Tell me.” He set his bottle on the small table between them with a snap. “I stuck my bloody neck out for you. You owe me the truth.”
“Fine.” She leaned forward, cougar-blue mixing with the brown in her irises. “I’m here to slit his throat.”
“Ah.” He fingered his chin, his mind rearranging things. Part of him was fiercely glad that the wolf wasn’t her lover—or worse, her mate. The other part considered why she’d come so far to kill the other fada, risking her own life in the process—and he didn’t like what he came up with. He had the bad feeling the black wolf had been one of the men who’d attacked her.
Rage curled through him. He ruthlessly suppressed it. Not your fight, Fane.
“Then you’ll leave,” he said. “The wolf will be dead soon, anyway. For a while he fought to get out, battering himself against the cage until he was bloody. But now he just sits on the floor, staring at nothing.”
“I don’t know.” Marjani watched as the fae lights changed from gold to green, the colors swirling lazily around each other before the gold faded away. “I guess if he’s almost dead, there’s no reason for me to stay. You’re sure?”
“Yeah. But you can’t leave now—the goblins’ blood is up tonight. No one but the most powerful fae will go outside until morning. You can stay here, and I’ll sneak you out at dusk tomorrow.”
Her catlike eyes narrowed. “Why are you helping me?”
He gave her a truth. “In the human world, I’m known as Fane Morningstar.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re Evie’s dad?”
“I am.”
“So you knew who I was all along?”
He nodded. “Lord Adric’s sister. I was at Evie and Jace’s mating ritual.”
“The hell you were. We would’ve seen you.”
He spread his hands. “I’m a wayfarer, remember? No one sees me if I don’t want them to. Only Evie and her mate knew I was there.”
“But we would’ve smelled you. That silver in your scent—it marks you as fae.”
“The king gave me a charm that disguises my scent for short periods of time.”
She scowled. “So you can come and go in Baltimore as often as you please without us knowing?”
He moved a shoulder. “Don’t worry. The king has better uses for me than to spy on the fada.”
Except he had been spying on Marjani since she’d landed in Iceland. But that was different—Sindre’s envoys watched any fada or fae who entered his territory. And as far as Sindre was concerned, the entire island of Iceland was his territory. In fact, he claimed most of the land north of the Arctic Circle.
She stared back steadily. He had a feeling she knew damn well he wasn’t telling her everything.
“Now that you mention it,” she said, “I can see the resemblance to Evie. But you’re even prettier than she is.”
A chuckle rustled in his throat. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It’s not.” But a smile tugged at her mouth.
Warmth blossomed in his chest as if she’d given him a gift. He gave himself a shake—because allowing himself to like this woman was a damn fool thing to do—and rose from the chair. “Would you like food? A bath? The hot water is piped in from a geothermal well.”
“Both.” She made a wry face. “I’ve been traveling as my cougar for a week, although I did wash in a stream a few times. But you already knew that, didn’t you? I thought someone was watching me.”
He gave a noncommittal shrug. He actually hadn’t followed her the whole time because after she’d found the dirt track, he’d known she’d end up at the court.
“Take a bath,” he suggested, “and I’ll get you something to eat from the great hall.”
“Thank you.”
The huge, hexagon-shaped hall was large enough to hold a thousand dancing fae, but tonight it held only a few hundred diners. Fane had been a member of the court for sixty turns of the sun, but the ice fae still acted like he was one step up from a servant. For once, he was happy to be ignored. He strolled toward the serving table against one wall, hands in his pockets, just a mixed-blood minding his own business.
“Fane.” A large man with a beard and mane of copper hair rose from a nearby table. He was dressed all in black, and unlike the other fae, he wore no jewelry except for a heavy gold bracelet.
Fane muttered a curse. There went his plan to slip in and out of the great hall unobserved.
A pureblood fae, Roald was one of Sindre’s top warriors—and Fane’s grandfather, although the older man preferred to ignore the connection. Heads turned as everyone looked from him to Roald and back again like a bloody tennis match.
Fane pasted a smile on his face. “Roald. Peace to you and yours.” He refused to address his own grandfather as “my lord,” although Sindre had elevated him to a lord of the court after Roald had won a particularly important battle.
“Peace,” his grandfather returned in his gruff voice. “Come. I wish to speak to you.” He strode out the door, not bothering to see if Fane followed.
What now? And why did Roald have to choose tonight of all nights to speak to him, when Fane had a fada hiding in his apartment?
But you didn’t ignore a summons from Roald-the-mighty-warrior-Morningstar. Fane headed after him. Once he would have been thrilled by this public acknowledgment from his grandfather. Roald Morningstar was renowned in the fae world—in the six centuries he’d been alive, the man had never lost a battle.
During Fane’s first year at court, he’d tried to get to know Roald, but the older man had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with his mixed-blood grandson. So Fane h
ad said the hell with it. As far as Fane knew, Roald didn’t even know he had a great-granddaughter, Evie.
But recently, the burly redhead had unbent enough to nod to Fane in the hall. He’d even stopped a couple of times to ask how Fane was doing. Fane had been coolly polite, and that was how they’d left things.
Roald headed for his spacious apartment near the north tower. Fane had to extend his stride to keep up. His grandfather was one of the largest men at court, with long legs and shoulders as wide as a door. He made Fane feel puny, although compared to other ice fae, Fane was heavily muscled.
The door to Roald’s apartment swung open as they reached it, a throwaway bit of magic that only the most powerful fae indulged in. Fane had never been past the living room, furnished with severe Scandinavian furniture in white oak. The only touch of comfort was the blue velvet cushions, and Fane suspected those had been introduced by his human grandmother.
He glanced at her portrait, centered over a huge stone fireplace. His grandfather had mated with a human from Norway, a stunning blonde with a wide smile whom Roald had clearly adored. Saga had passed to the other side more than three centuries ago, but his grandfather had never taken another lover. In the portrait, Saga wore an emerald silk dress, her throat and wrists adorned with a fortune in jewels.
An elf couple—two mate-bonded men who’d served Roald as long as Fane had known him—offered them drinks. When they both refused, the slim, black-haired elves bowed themselves out of the room.
Roald folded his arms across his impressive chest and frowned down his beaky nose at Fane. His eyes were a fierce gold—hawk’s eyes, a perfect match for his aquiline features.
Fane crossed his arms and stared right back. His grandfather had requested this meeting. Let him speak first.
Roald gave a short nod, as if confirming something. “It’s been too long since you were at court.”
“The king keeps me busy.”
The older man allowed himself a faint smile. “You’ve done well as his envoy.”
Fane had to force his face to remain expressionless. Was his grandfather proud of him? “Thank you.”
“No thanks are due me. I’ve done little enough to help you.”
That was certainly true. Fane shrugged. “I prefer to make my own way.”
“As is right for a man.”
Fane shifted his weight, impatient to get back to Marjani. The gods save him from fae etiquette. At this rate, he’d be here half the night before his grandfather got to the point.
“Look, Roald, what do you want?”
His grandfather’s dark brows lowered. “Your father should have schooled you in fae ways.”
Fane shrugged. Arne had come and gone as he pleased, leaving Fane’s raising to his mom. Fane hadn’t even known he was part fae until he was an adult.
“So I’m a primitive bastard who doesn’t know his arse from his elbow. You think I haven’t heard that a hundred times?”
Roald glowered at him. Then he sighed. “You remind me of your grandmother.”
“Saga?”
They both glanced at the painting above the fireplace.
Roald’s gaze turned inward. “She was a lot like you and your father. A cheerful, easygoing woman—but she had pluck. Push her too far, and she pushed right back. But even that was done so tactfully I barely noticed I hadn’t gotten my own way.”
Fane uncrossed his arms. “I wish I could’ve met her.”
“She would have loved you—her only grandson. I’m sorry she didn’t live long enough to see you born.” Roald’s strong throat worked. “I think of her…more and more, as I age. I wonder if I’ll see her when I pass to the other side.”
“I—”
“But that’s an old man talking.” Roald’s fierce eyes fastened on Fane again. “I hear you sired a daughter on a human. Is it true?”
Fane went rigid. Evie was his secret. Only Arne knew about her, and he’d agreed that Fane should hide her from the fae world. You never knew when someone would take it into his or her head to use Evie against him.
How in Hades had his grandfather heard? But now that he had, Fane had to tell the truth. He couldn’t lie, and evading the question would be as good as admitting it.
“Yes. I do.”
Roald sighed. “What is it with this family and humans? I suppose she has no Gift.”
Fane moved a shoulder. “She’s mostly human.”
It was an evasion. Evie might be only one-eighth fae, but she’d turned out to be a Gifted amplifier who could boost another fae or fada’s Gift. It was a rare and very valuable talent, one the fae would prize as much as her mate’s clan did. Evie was now training with Baltimore’s healers to amplify their healing Gifts.
“They tell me she mated with a fada.” Roald’s voice was heavy with disapproval.
“She did. A jaguar shifter.”
“A jaguar.” Roald pursed his lips. “What can you expect from a woman? The fada have a certain animal appeal.”
Fane stiffened. “She’s happy with her mate, and he treats her like a princess.”
Roald shook his head, but changed the subject. “I have good news. Your father will be arriving in a few hours. I’d like you both to join me later for dinner.”
Harsh words rose in Fane’s throat. It was too little, too late. But this was his grandfather—and he hadn’t seen his father in years. They never seemed to be at the court at the same time.
“I can’t,” he said. “Not tonight. I’m sorry.”
And damn it, he was sorry. He’d thought he was done trying to win Roald’s approval, but apparently he wasn’t. Still, a formal fae dinner lasted for hours. No way was he leaving Marjani alone for that long.
“The king’s business?” murmured Roald.
Fane stared back expressionlessly. An envoy didn’t speak of what he did for Sindre.
“Tomorrow evening then,” his grandfather said. “I’ll speak to Arne when he arrives.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” Tomorrow night Fane would be sneaking Marjani out of the castle, but he’d fit in the drink somehow. It would be the perfect cover if Sindre got suspicious.
“And thank you for the invitation,” he added. “Please tell Arne I’m sorry I can’t be there tonight. Now if you’ll excuse me—”
The other man inclined his copper head. “Until tomorrow.”
Fane turned to leave and then halted. “My lord?”
His grandfather had already turned to gaze at Saga’s portrait. “Mm?”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention my daughter to the king.”
Roald turned his head and their eyes met. “No,” he agreed. “It would be best if he didn’t know.”
“Thank you.” Fane nodded to the two elves, who were holding open the door for him.
Back in the hall, he expelled a breath. For six decades, his grandfather had pretty much ignored his existence. So what had changed? Unless he suddenly felt a belated duty to his deceased mate, who after all, had been one hundred percent human.
With a shrug, Fane set the puzzle aside. He had a bigger problem waiting in his room. One he needed to get back to before she took it into her head to come looking for him.
Returning to the great hall, he heaped a large plate with food—cheese, herb-encrusted roast chicken, salad, whole-grain rolls fresh from the ovens. He popped a silver cover over the whole thing, pocketed a couple of apples, and wended his way back through the bluish-white maze to his room.
Stars, he was sick of all the unending white and silver and blue. He yearned for green grass and lush trees and flowers that bloomed longer than a few short weeks.
Back in the room, Marjani was fully dressed down to her boots, but she was slumped in the easy chair, eyes half-closed. One hand cupped the quartz on her chest, a pretty conglomeration of amethyst crystals in a soft gray and purple. The center glowed weakly.
His breath snagged. She looked so exhausted, her beautiful oval face drawn.
The earth fada d
idn’t share the secrets of their quartz with anyone, but he knew it was a symbiotic relationship. A quartz didn’t come to “life” until chosen by an earth fada, and the earth fada in turn drew life energy from the quartz’s crystals.
But both Marjani and her quartz looked depleted. He grimaced, helpless and not liking it.
He quietly eased the door shut, but her eyes opened. She straightened, her gaze on the plate. He passed it over and set the apples on the table.
“Sorry I took so long. I ran into my grandfather.”
“Your grandfather?” She paused in the act of lifting her fork and frowned. “He’s at the court?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry. He won’t be stopping by. We’re not exactly friendly.”
He tried to keep the bitterness out of his tone, but the way Marjani tilted her head told him he hadn’t succeeded.
“No?”
“He’s a pureblood.”
“Ah,” she said, a world of understand in that single syllable. Everyone knew how purebloods were about tainting their bloodlines.
Fane dropped onto the wood chair and picked up his ale. But he didn’t take a drink, just turned the brown bottle in his hands, unsettled by the encounter with Roald.
Marjani began eating with a delicate greed that reminded him of a stray cat that had adopted his family when he was a kid in Newfoundland. A sleek gray female, the cat hadn’t been able to look awkward if it tried—just like Marjani.
She was halfway through when she gave a rueful grin and offered him the plate. “I’m starved—sorry. Would you like some?”
He helped himself to some bread and cheese and then handed back the plate, telling her to finish it. “You need it more than me.”
“Thanks. I’ve burned a lot of energy this past week.” She touched the quartz, and then flicked him a look and hurriedly dropped her hand as if afraid to draw his attention to it.
Irritation spiked through him. What did she think he was going to do, rip the goddamn quartz from her neck? Then he remembered that she’d been attacked. Maybe some man had ripped it from her neck.
He took a gulp of ale.
She ate more slowly now. Her tongue flicked a crumb from the corner of her mouth, and he was reminded again of the graceful gray cat. He half expected her to swipe a tongue over her palm and use it to wash her face.
Charming Marjani Page 5