by Ann Gimpel
“I came to see if you could be healed,” I corrected whatever was talking to me. “The first bridge was an experiment. I can finish this, but you must allow me to pace myself.”
“You hold sufficient magic. I checked.”
“So did I,” I replied acidly. “But once you’re done, I will be trapped here.”
“Your magic will recover.”
“No. Not here it won’t.” I was panting. My heart beat like a tripwire as power cascaded from me. It wasn’t the magic leaving that ate at me, but my dread about sitting out the next several millennia in this wet, rocky cave.
“You are mine,” the voice repeated. “I will tend to you because you succored me. No one else cared. The ones who should have abandoned me.”
Before I could push my frantic brain to spit out an argument that might earn my freedom, the drain on my ability doubled and then trebled. The hand I’d been clinging to my roost with let go, but I was beyond caring. The next blast of wind tossed me into the void. At least I wouldn’t fall through the chasm into the river, but I had no magic left to cushion my fall.
I expected to hit hard enough to break bones. No magic left to fix those, either. Jesus. I was so fucked. Why hadn’t I listened to Cyn?
Because I’m too goddamned independent for my own good. Even my inner voice was weak, disconnected. I waited for impact, for the splat that would send pain ratcheting through my body.
I might have blacked out, but it never came. Instead, I floated on a blanket of air. The wind was gone, and the cave had warmed a few degrees. Didn’t matter, I shivered hard enough my teeth rattled against each other. Had the voice belonged to Faery? It almost had to.
Who else had a pony in this race?
The floating sensation was pleasant. I was empty, tapped out, worthless as a mage, but I didn’t care. For once I stopped trying to control everything. It would have been ridiculous since I wasn’t on top of anything. I should have been panic-stricken to be at the mercy of whoever had woven the soft blanket beneath my head and body, but I couldn’t locate even a shred of resistance.
“Thank you for not killing me,” I murmured.
“Thank you for healing me, daughter of my bones.”
The scene shifted so fast I had no idea what happened. The cavern broke apart. In its place stood the base of the rocky cliff where I’d first sensed this might be the spot to hunt for the rift.
My knees buckled, and I sank to the rock-strewn earth, breathing as if I’d just run a race. How in the hell was I not terminally broken? What had the voice meant by daughter of my bones? If it had been Faery, she’d have recognized me as anathema, as something to be snuffed out. And she’d certainly had plenty of opportunity. She could have stolen my magic and left me for the crows or the fish or whatever lived in that subterranean chasm.
I crossed my legs under me and rubbed my temples. I had a mother of a headache. Big surprise given all the power I’d burned through. Power. Did I have enough left to teleport, or would I be relegated to walking to the nearest road and hitchhiking? I had no other resources at my disposal. No purse. No phone. No money.
No need for any of those in magical worlds, but a person couldn’t get along without them here. I stopped thinking about what I didn’t have and focused my mind inward.
Yes! Fuck, yes! I wasn’t totally dry. My first stop had to be the in between place where I tanked up. It would take a while, but that didn’t matter. I was tired. I’d teleport there, open my tapped-out magical center, and take a nap. By the time I was done, there’d still be an hour or two to score a new spot to live. I wasn’t totally clear how I’d move my few possessions, but if I left them it wouldn’t be the end of the world. I’d started over so many times I’d lost count.
Oberon had probably posted sentries around my place 24/7. I hoped Midnight was okay. He was tough and had good instincts. From what I’d seen of Oberon’s flunkies, it wouldn’t be much of a contest. The thought made me smile, but it faded fast.
Cyn would know what I’d done, probably knew already. Or he’d realize someone had stepped in, and the most likely candidate was me. Breath hissed from between my teeth. At least I’d finally quit shivering. My clothes wouldn’t be dry for a while, but midday in northern Nevada was quite warm this time of year.
For a moment, I’d been flirting with covering up what I’d done. Ha! As if I could. Everyone’s power has a particular signature. Mine was bleeding all over this operation. Nope. I’d have to fess up. As regent, Cynwrigg had a right to know. Hell, as regent, I owed him.
The concept rocked me. Other than Mother, I’d never owed anyone jack.
Slowly, creakily, I got to my feet. Interestingly, the small amount of power left in me was actually expanding. It shouldn’t be able to do that, not without a trip to the in-between place.
Shaking my head, I set a spell in motion, taking care to be as sparing as I could with how I finessed it. I had boatloads of questions, but not a single answer. They’d have to wait. Once Cyn got through reading me the riot act—and he would—he might have an idea or two.
If he was still speaking to me.
I had a feeling most of his subjects were more compliant. The notion of me and compliant sharing the same clump of words made me laugh. I was still laughing as my spell swept me away from the cliffs to the soothing darkness of the in between.
10
Chapter Ten, Cyn
Court had lasted forever, but we were finally winding down when a jolt began in my toes and rocked me, nearly knocking me out of my chair. Certain we were under attack from somewhere, I leapt to my feet shouting, “What was that?”
“Don’t know.” Aedan picked himself up off the floor.
The unicorn and satyrs stamped their hoofs, and a satyr cried, “The vigilantes who murdered Rona might be back in force.”
It seemed remote, but I wasn’t discounting any possibilities. Faery was turning to shit under my nose. I couldn’t afford to make any more mistakes.
“We are done here,” I told everyone. “You have your assignments. I’ll scan for threats. I know where to find you if I need you.”
“Will you still be splitting your time between here and Earth?” a satyr asked.
“I will be here as much as I can. There’s still the rift to deal with. It didn’t go away just because we’ve been invaded.”
He nodded in understanding, and maybe sympathy, before trotting out of the room, hoofs clicking on the wooden floor. Eh, sympathy was a major exaggeration. Satyrs are many things, but empathy isn’t in their wheelhouse. I waited for another jolt, for Dubrova castle to devolve into a pile of rocks and glass, but it never came.
Meanwhile, I sent power zinging in a full circle, searching for hazards. Faery didn’t feel any different, but she might not, given my lack of a link with her.
Everyone had left. I didn’t blame them; we’d been at it for hours. For all the years of my memory the Fae court had been more pomp and circumstance than actual function. We’d heard the occasional case, and meted out rare punishments, but our meetings were more social than judicial. Planning the next festival was far more common—and pleasant—than strategizing to fix something broken.
After pulling my notes together—mostly lists of who was responsible for what—I walked slowly from the courtroom. I should check on Faery, on the rift, to make certain whatever rolled through hadn’t injured her further. Had Dariyah located Earth’s side of the schism? I hastened my pace. The shockwave might have been Faery’s fury at a hybrid daring to show her face in anyplace related to her enchanted world.
Dariyah had gotten away with her brief tryst in my chamber, but I keep my rooms swathed in spells. Between them and her glamour, it was quite possible Faery hadn’t questioned the Witch glamour and had placed her mark of acceptance on Dariyah. Unfortunately, the Fae-Sidhe hybrid wouldn’t have had my rooms’ protections on a solo endeavor.
It might have made a huge difference.
I’d broken into a run, and then I drew up s
hort. This was ridiculous. I’d teleport to the subterranean spot where the rift was and take it from there. Meanwhile, I had to be overreacting all over the bloody place. Dariyah had given me her word she’d only do a reconnaissance. If she found something, she’d let me know.
All that had been before we discovered perfidy within Faery’s boundaries… I cleared my mind of everything and set a course for the spot where I tried to talk with the land. My usual location shimmered into being. I glanced around and blinked a few times. How had I made such a monumental error. This wasn’t the right place at all.
Dirt spread beneath my feet in all directions. No hole. No rift. No chasm. Crap. I must be more exhausted than I’d thought to make such a rookie mistake. Shutting my eyes, I breathed a few times to center myself, and then cast the same spell.
Nothing happened. When I opened both my normal eyes and my third eye to double-check, I still stood in the same spot. The only reason that could have happened was because my first attempt hadn’t failed after all.
Where was the rift?
I darted forward, testing each step with magic. In case the smooth surface in front of me was an illusion, I didn’t want to fall through. My nostrils twitched as I scented the air, hunting clues. I walked the line where the rift had spread in both directions. Long before I was done, I recognized Dariyah’s hand in the miracle stretching around me.
Anger sparred with gratitude, creating an eerie, confusing mélange. She’d broken her word, which meant I could never trust her. But she’d cured the rift, sewed it together seamlessly from what I could ascertain. Faced with the extent of her power, I felt ashamed and petty. She’d turned her talents to mend a land that had spurned her.
By rights, she should have walked away. I still didn’t understand why she was helping me at all, but I’d never seen the like of her ability. The dragons’ prophecy about my lack of a bond with Faery—and its consequences—nagged for recognition.
Bowing low, I said, “It is such a relief to find you whole, my lady. I am here for you. You need only reach out.” So long as I was talking, I continued, “Your boundaries have been breached by wickedness. I am doing my best to ferret out the miscreants.”
A wave of unpleasantness flew through the cavern, followed by another. The sensation set my teeth on edge as I sought to interpret what was behind it. “Talk with me,” I pleaded. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
The next blast of air smelled like Dariyah. I inhaled hungrily, craving her and furious with myself at the same time. I couldn’t trust her. No matter how great a boon she’d performed for Faery, her word was meaningless. It was smallminded of me, but I couldn’t seem to move past it. My pride was hurt because she’d obviously decided she didn’t need me. At all.
Grasping at straws, I tried again to talk with Faery, “I know that scent, and I assume Dariyah was the hand behind your miraculous recovery. I shall thank her for you.”
The air currents stilled. No clues there. I waited, but once again the land had no interest in talking. Frustration twisted my empty stomach into a knot. I curled one hand into a fist and drove it into a rocky wall, skinning my knuckles. “I am not Oberon,” I growled. “I will never be him, nor do I wish to be. Beyond that, he will never return. You must sever the bond, so I can pick up the reins and be Faery’s regent in more than name only.”
“She will never do that,” a familiar voice echoed. “Because I won’t let her.”
“Oberon!” I shouted, scanning with magic and my eyes but not seeing him. “Your greed will be the death of Faery.”
“That’s for me to decide. She is mine,” he said smoothly.
“Show yourself,” I demanded. “Only cowards hide in shadows or behind magical shields.”
Harsh, bitter laughter pelted me, fading by the minute.
“That’s right,” I bellowed after his retreat. “Run, you craven bastard. The universe isn’t big enough to conceal you forever. When I find you, you’re a dead man.” I uncurled fingers that had fisted of their own accord, longing to bash his patrician face in. I could almost hear the sound of bones breaking, crunchy and satisfying.
One thing he’d spat my way sank in. “He said you’re barred from talking with me,” I tossed out. “If it’s true, do something.”
A disturbance rippled the currents blowing through this spot. I heard whistling and feinted left moments before a small boulder crashed to the ground. Alrighty, then. For all Oberon’s faults, with arrogance leading the list, I’d never known him to be a liar. Twisting the truth happened frequently, but not out-and-out lies.
“Thank you,” I told Faery. “I will do my best to sever the hold he has on you.” Insight banged home. “The rift. It was your way of flagging my attention, wasn’t it?”
Two more stones plunked down, coming to rest a short distance from my boots. Excuses crowded the back of my throat; I swallowed them all. Faery may have been a peaceful spot, a safe haven, for time untold. Because of its uneventful history, I’d expected it to remain so. The blinders were off. I’d been wrong to make excuses for every departure from what used to be normal. If I’d been quicker on the uptake, more alert to subtle alterations, I might have stepped in before events progressed to this point.
A big part of my problem was my failure to embrace my position as regent. Unlike many others, I’d never longed for leadership. I’d been disappointed when Faery voted to ratify Oberon’s line of succession. The way our covenant is structured, the people could have suggested other names to place on the ballot. No one did.
They liked me. I was a known quantity. No one ever thought they’d need a leader, and like the unicorn had said—out loud—many had been relieved to see Oberon and his heavy-handed ways depart.
A bitter laugh rattled through me. They’d been delighted to see him go, but I’d been half-hoping he’d come back and fix the rift so I wouldn’t have to spend so much time on Earth. I’d established détente with my role at Lady Luck, but the endless procession of hookers and gamblers and wannabe gangsters dragged at me. One thing about gambling towns, they attracted society’s dregs like moths clung to burning candles.
“I’ll do everything I can for you,” I promised Faery, “just as soon as I find the vigilantes and string them up.” I paused, gathering my thoughts. Talking with Faery was like talking to a sentient wall. She couldn’t answer, but she was the best of listeners.
“The traitors will be people I know,” I went on. “Ending them will pound stakes into my soul, but it will set an example for everyone else. Any of Faery’s residents who are inclined to sabotage the land that supports them can leave. It will be a one-time-only offer.”
Power bubbled around me as I left the hobbled land to her anger. Was it only me she couldn’t talk with? Or had Oberon stolen her voice with everyone? One thing was almost a given. Once she broke free, she’d flatten him and crush his link with her.
I’d been a fool. Events had unfolded in plain sight with me oblivious. I couldn’t rewrite history. No magic was strong enough to accomplish that, but I could institute solutions from here on. My rooms came into focus around me. After a quick shower, I donned fresh clothes. No one had reached out for me, which meant no new information to chase down. I raised my mind voice. “Aedan.”
He replied immediately. “Aye, Regent.”
I blinked a couple of times. He rarely addressed me by my title. Must mean he was rattled by the turn of events. Oberon had been far more of a father figure to him than to me. I’d never liked the old fucker while Aedan had appeared blind to his faults.
“Join me,” I told him.
He must have anticipated my command. Seconds later, a knock sounded on my door. I tugged it open and stepped aside for him to enter. His usual impeccable level of tailoring had slipped a little. Lines around his eyes suggested he was worried.
“No word from the court,” he said before I could ask.
“It hasn’t been very long,” I reminded him. “These things take time.”
A muscle danced beneath one of his silver eyes. “I want this to be over. I still can’t believe Oberon is a traitor. There has to be another reason Titania is missing too. She had a habit of going off on retreats. It’s probably where—”
“Spa days don’t last fifty years. Get over it,” I snapped, breaking into his tumble of words. “I was just with Faery. The rift is healed, and—”
“See?” Triumph underscored the one word. “Told you. Oberon fixed it. He’s the only one with power to manage such a feat.”
“Try again,” I suggested silkily.
“Fuck you, Cyn. You never liked him, and you’ll jump on any excuse to sully his name.”
Temper dangerously thin, I made a grab for his forearm. “Net me in a truth spell. Do it now.”
After rolling his eyes, a pallid excuse for a truth spell dropped over my head. “You can do better than that,” I told my cousin.
“This will do,” he mumbled.
After testing its sloppy construction, I bit back criticism and hoped to holy hell his magic wasn’t representative of the rest of Faery. When had his skills grown so slipshod?
I tightened my grip on his arm. “A woman I met on Earth, a mage, has been helping me. She’s who healed the rift.”
“You sent a stranger?” Aedan was aghast.
“Nay. Her task was to find the schism on Earth’s side, not to mend it, but I assume she experimented with something, discovered it worked, and finished the job.” I gave his arm a shake. “You’re missing the point. There is no more rift. Faery created it to get my attention. She can’t talk. Oberon stole her voice.”
“Pfft. How could you possibly know that?”
I grabbed his other arm, shook him harder, and stared him down. “Have you been paying attention to your truth spell? It pings a certain—”
Aedan tried to yank free of my grip, but I held fast. “I do not require magical instruction from you,” he gritted.
“You require it from someone,” I shot back. “I’ve never seen such sloppy spell-work from a grown-up. Kids, sure, but not a fully vetted mage.”