Old Dog, New Tricks Page 14

  Goose bumps lifted on my arms when a chill breeze greeted us on the other side of the tether. A few leaves whirled around my right ankle, swept off the floor in Autumn. Ice crunched under my left foot, and frigid winds howled in that ear. A barren wasteland sculpted by ice stretched past infinity.

  “Mac.” I wet my lips, and ice sheened them. “This is Winter.”

  Okay, so it was the border, but standing here was asking for trouble.

  Rook’s lips parted, eyes wild, and I began to believe him about his mother wanting to kill him.

  Mac raised a hand. “This is the farthest Daibhidh is willing to travel.”

  I jabbed Rook in the shoulder. “I thought you said consuls could project their likeness anywhere.”

  “They can.” He sidestepped me. “I don’t understand.”

  “Daibhidh is meeting us here.” A cunning glint lit Mac’s eyes as he removed a roll of parchment from his air pocket and tapped his temple with it. “Voices and projections can’t sign paperwork, and a verbal agreement isn’t as binding as blood. I want all traces of your bond to my daughter erased. It will cost me more this way, but I don’t see a choice. The Morrigan is too powerful to take chances.”

  Except trusting Daibhidh meant taking a chance too when I suspected one or both of the consuls had orchestrated my running in the hunt in an attempt to lure out Mac. Not to mention the matter of a traitor among the magistrates back home. Out in the open, Mac, even as powerful as he was, was in danger in this new fae landscape, so eager to break the shackles he had lovingly applied to Faerie and her people in an effort to foster peace and understanding in the realm.

  He was still powerful, but I had made him vulnerable, and his legendary neutrality was eroding.

  “Okay.” I toyed with the end of my braid to keep my hands busy. “When do you summon him?”

  “I already have.” Mac’s gaze skated over the icy landscape. “He should arrive in a moment.”

  A pinpoint of black caught my eye in Winter, and I backed into Rook. His heavy breaths hit my nape, and I elbowed him aside until I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Mac. Inhaling did no good. It was too cold, scents locked too close to the ground or stolen by the wind. Great. We were head-blind.

  I squinted through the flurries. “Tell me that’s Daibhidh.”

  Four more dots joined the first one.

  “I knew it was a mistake to come here,” a dry voice rattled behind us.

  Startled, I spun around, left hand thrust out and palm glowing.

  Faint green light illuminated a walking mound of black rags that hung in artfully tattered lengths like feathers. A gaunt face stared out at me, eyes black and merciless, lips blue and glazed with sleet.

  “Easy.” Mac clutched my wrist and lowered my hand. “It’s Daibhidh.”

  “That’s Consul to her.” He sniffed, eyes widening on Rook. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Not yet,” he muttered sourly.

  “Stand out here any longer, and you will be.” The consul shook his robes. “Follow me.”

  I spared one last glance behind us. A soft chirrup carried to me. “Aves?”

  “What else would they be?” Daibhidh glared at me. “Stop wasting my time and move.”

  The shuffling figure hustled into Autumn on spry legs, and we three jogged to keep up with him.

  “He’s fast,” I panted.

  “One has to be if one wishes to avoid being caught,” Daibhidh replied without a hint of strain.

  His hearing is top-notch too.

  As a stitch tightened my side, the consul glided to a halt beside a collection of boulders covered in damp moss. He strode up to the nearest, placed his palm on top of it and vaulted onto the next one.

  He turned back, taking in our awe with a wicked grin. “Well, are you coming?”

  Mac mimicked him exactly, but Rook closed his hand over my elbow and held me back.

  “Does this look familiar to you?” he whispered.

  A memory clicked into place. “No way.”

  Rook and I had tried to escape the hunt by climbing these very rocks. We got nowhere thanks to a nasty bit of glamour that made it seem as if we were moving when we had been stuck in an illusion while standing still—in easy reach of the hounds—the whole time. Daibhidh’s rock had almost killed us. Now I wondered if that wasn’t by design.

  “I don’t like this.” His grip eased. “The consuls never show themselves.”

  As much as I agreed with him, I trusted Mac to get us out of this in one piece.

  “We don’t have much choice.” I broke free of him. “Keep your eyes open, okay?”

  His lips compressed, but he nodded and gave me room to make the first jump. By the time I reached Mac and Daibhidh, they were standing in the mouth of a cavern. My skin crawled as I picked my way to them. The spell messed with my vision and caused me to stumble where magical feedback interfered with my sight. Sparkles cascaded over Mac’s shoulder, and I stifled a shudder.

  I did not like this. Not at all.

  Once Rook caught up, we entered the cave ahead, and Daibhidh sealed the glamour behind us.

  I went to Mac’s side and waited. “Will the Aves be a problem?”

  “They are welcome to try the walls of my home if they wish.” Daibhidh’s robes swirled, tattered edges slapping my legs as he spun and headed deeper in the dark. “All tire of the climb eventually.”

  Rook and I shared a glance tinged with remembered frustration.

  As much as I wanted to credit him with saving my life and cut the guy some slack, knowing him, he counted on it and was playing me like always. Warped as he was, kindness only confused him.

  Speaking of confusing, I was stumped. Daibhidh’s cavern left me scratching my head.

  Past the rocky entrance, down a short and murky hall, the space opened into an enormous living room with a glass wall straight ahead. The décor was black-on-black-on-red, typical Unseelie tastes. The floor-to-ceiling windows, though, were an unexpected relief. At least until I remembered what I had discovered about Summer earlier, that their light and crystal was nothing but glamour and deceit.

  “Take a seat.” Daibhidh’s hands flew over a series of hooks running down the front of his coat, and he shrugged out of his tattered fabric.

  Mac gestured toward a chaise butted against the wall, and I sat. He dropped down beside me. He jerked his chin toward a chair several feet away, and Rook ambled there and took his place. With all of us seated, Daibhidh towered over us. Judging by his preening, he was enjoying presiding over our impromptu gathering.

  “You requested a meeting,” he began. “The noble Black Dog asks, and I humbly provide.”

  I kept my eyes from rolling. It was a near thing.

  “You know why we are here.” Mac relaxed against the wall as if Daibhidh’s theatrics tired him. As long as they had known one another, perhaps they did. “Thierry would like her marriage to Rook annulled. We require a third vote, and yours is the one we desire. As the Unseelie Consul, you understand why we felt it proper to petition you instead of, say, Liosliath.” A bland smile complemented his posture. “The Morrigan holds the throne, but she is not the rightful queen. My daughter is. If Thierry reclaims her crown, you would be wise to curry her favor.”

  Denial hammered at my lips, but I pinched them shut. I didn’t want the blasted crown now that I was rid of it, but Mac had said if, not when. Mac was baiting him, and Daibhidh appeared willing to nibble.

  Brows sloped in a scowl, Daibhidh glared at Rook. “What of him?”

  “I want better for my daughter.” Mac brushed my cheek with his fingertips. “Rook is not worthy.”

  “Agreed.” Bobbing his head, the consul paced. “Two half-bloods do not a full blood make.”

  My lips parted on a snarl, but Mac tapped my chin hard, and my teeth clinked together.

  “She must be freed from her...mistake...before proper suitors may begin courting her.”

  Rook stared at the ground, brow puckered. Playing
along or deep in thought? I wasn’t sure.

  Daibhidh slid to a graceful halt. “Do you have someone in mind?”

  “Yes,” Mac said with conviction. “I do.”

  Knowing he meant Shaw gave me strength to play meek and mild. For now.

  Fingers tapping his pants, Daibhidh mused, “Ultram, perhaps?”

  A shrug from Mac neither confirmed nor denied the match to the sidhe noble who would be named the Unseelie prince upon my coronation.

  “Oh, I like this. I like this very much.” The consul’s smile darkened, and he laughed. “The Black Dog caught in a lie.”

  Mac didn’t as much as blink.

  Daibhidh’s amusement tapered. “Your daughter should be so fortunate as to land Ultram. He is the future of Unseelie House.”

  Mac still refused to rise to the bait.

  “I know why you want the marriage annulled. The true reason. Not these—” Daibhidh made a fist and shook it, “—lies you bring to me. You want to level the field so that your daughter has a chance to survive the Morrigan.” Spittle flew from his lips when he shouted at me. “I am not a fool. I know she has your mate. You are a mistake in birth and an error in the high court’s judgment. You are unfit to rule.”

  A growl rumbled up the back of Mac’s throat, and the consul paled but stood his ground.

  “Watch yourself,” Mac murmured, light pooling in his lap where his hands folded.

  “You ask much.” Daibhidh swallowed. “I will give you my vote, but I want something in return. I want you to promise me that if Thierry bests the Morrigan, that you will escort me into the mortal realm and grant me citizenship.” He wet his lips. “The tethers are broken. All but two. I want passage before you finish the job.” His gaze flickered to the ceiling. “The Morrigan can’t cross realms to come for me if the tethers die.”

  This explained how we rated not only an in-the-flesh consultation, but a visit to his home. The woods crawled with Aves spies, and the Morrigan would have kittens if they reported Daibhidh had sided with us.

  “No,” I snarled. “The whole reason we’re severing the tethers is to protect the mortal realm.”

  The consul’s tapping hand stilled. “I will swear a binding oath to do no harm to mortals.”

  I glanced at Mac. “What does that mean?”

  “If he gives you his Name—” Mac began.

  “I will not give her my Name,” Daibhidh blustered. “That is not what I agreed.”

  “I’m a conclave marshal.” I pushed to my feet. “I will not break our laws to let you skate.”

  A hiss passed the consul’s lips. “Not even if it costs you your life?”

  I spread my hands.

  The hiss turned to laughter. “Not even if it costs your mate his?”

  “Shaw made me the marshal I am.” I anchored my hands on my hips. “He would never forgive me if I compromised myself for him. It’s a fast slide after the first step, and I won’t be manipulated.”

  “Fine.” The gaunt man fussed with his cuffs. “I will give you my Name to hold, Thierry.”

  Unease whispered over my skin. A Name was a high price for passage to the mortal realm, but I had demolished all but two tethers, and Winter’s was next on my to-do list. Not that the Morrigan would let him use the tether—assuming he could without an assist from Mac. That left Autumn, which was our ticket out, and he must know that. Plus its wards would fry anyone who tried activating it without us.

  Maybe it was a fair trade after all. What good was a Name if it next appeared on your tombstone?

  I dipped my chin. “I want your signature on Mac’s paper first.”

  Rook scoffed at the proceedings.

  “I assume you have something to add?” Daibhidh’s eyebrows climbed. “Well?”

  Rook lifted his head, defiance glowing in his midnight eyes. “Thierry is my—”

  “Branwen is alive,” I blurted.

  Between one heartbeat and the next, his righteous fury snuffed. “I—I never told you her name.”

  Digging in my pocket, I tugged out the conch-shell charm she had given me to call her with news of her brother’s fate, and offered it to him. “She’s waiting for my call. Play nice, and I’ll let you do the honors.”

  His fingers shook when they brushed mine, lifting the delicate shell off my palm as though it were made from spun sugar and the sweat on his hands would melt it. He closed his fist over it gently.

  “I release Thierry from our marriage.” His voice grated. “It was initiated without her consent.”

  Shock that he accepted my word so easily struck me mute.

  Eyeing the shell, Daibhidh stuck out his hand. Rook clutched his fist to his chest, shoulders tight and gaze dangerous, but Daibhidh only offered him a charm. “You know what I must ask you.”

  Rook held the charm on his open palm and enunciated clearly, “Our marriage was never consummated.”

  He passed it to me, and I did the same. Daibhidh nodded and took the charm from me. Mac removed the contract he had shown me earlier from an air pocket and slapped it into the consul’s hand.

  The consul, not to be outdone, removed a pair of surprisingly modern, wire-rimmed glasses from his own air pocket and perched them on his long nose before unrolling the scroll and reading it.

  “This seems to be in order.” He pocketed the glasses. “Does anyone else have anything to add?”

  My head turned, seeking out Rook, but his knuckles were white and his mouth was shut.

  Good boy. He was learning.

  I clapped my hands together. “I think we’re good here.”

  “Indeed.” Daibhidh strode to a black lacquer desk and sat with a flourish.

  While he prepped his quill and ink, I locked gazes with Mac, who gifted me with a slight grin.

  We were okay. This was actually working. We would be ready to take Winter within the hour.

  A dull thump overhead brought my gaze to the ceiling, from which plaster dusted into my hair.

  Brandishing his quill with efficient strokes, the consul kept his head tucked until after he signed and sealed the scroll. He shot to his feet and slapped the roll hard across Mac’s palm before turning.

  “Come with me.” Daibhidh circled my upper arm and dragged me. “I won’t risk them hearing.”

  “Call if you need me,” Mac said simply as he settled in to skim the document.

  With his faith in me shining through, I straightened and jerked away from the consul. “Will do.”

  Daibhidh shoved me into a massive library and slammed the door behind us.

  I spun a slow circle. “Where are all the books?”

  Custom shelves lined the walls, carved with grape leaves and clusters, but not a book in sight.

  “Packed,” he grumped. “You can hardly expect me to leave them here, can you?”

  I shrugged. “Were you that sure I would show, or are you that desperate to leave?”

  “Both.” He dusted an empty shelf with his fingers. “I feared you would turn to Liosliath. He was the logical choice.” A genuine smile lit his face. “Then I heard you destroyed Summer’s tether—and half the Halls too. That meant I was the only choice you had left, and I finalized my preparations.”

  Another thud sifted dust into the air between us. I cocked my head to listen. “What is that?”

  “Trolls I’m sure. They tend to act as the Morrigan’s watchdogs.” A grin formed. “No offense.”

  I returned it with a toothy smile. “None taken.”

  Eyes narrowed, the consul swept closer. “I will speak my Name once, and only once. If you fail to hear or understand it, the fault is yours, not mine, and you will be held to our bargain regardless.”

  “That sounds fair.” Sarcasm dripped from my voice.

  Unfazed, the consul leaned close, his chapped lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispered. A burst of power fizzled through my ear canal and sparked through my mind as the Name was recorded.

  The pucker of his lips told me he felt it regist
er too.

  A muted scream lifted the hairs on the back of my neck, and my gaze shot to the ceiling.

  “We need to move.” I darted past him and made a beeline straight for Mac.

  His head was tilted back, gaze on the sifting dust. “Trolls.”

  “So I heard.” I checked to make sure the consul had followed. “Now what?”

  “The Morrigan is making her move.” Mac tucked away my annulment. “It’s time to face her.”

  I expelled a breath. “Why now? She hasn’t bothered us this whole time.”

  Rook gained his feet. “You haven’t tiptoed across the border to Winter yet either, have you?”

  I scowled at him. “No.”

  “The Aves must have seen us leave with Daibhidh,” Mac said.

  “Yeah.” I dusted off my shoulder. “I guess.”

  This didn’t feel right. The Aves had watched us for days. Besides our first encounter with them, they hadn’t tried to hurt us or stop us. They had watched and waited. So why throw trolls at us now?

  I rubbed my face, wishing Shaw were here. Mac was great, but Shaw thought like me. He got it. I missed that, him being two steps ahead until I tripped him up with an angle he hadn’t considered. As much as working with my father had taught me, I missed the way Shaw and I meshed on every level.

  Nerves jangling, I turned to Daibhidh. “How do we get out?”

  “There’s an exit—”

  An explosion knocked me onto my knees. Smoke billowed into the room, and I coughed against my shoulder to keep from sucking it down. Eyes tearing up from the magical discharge, I spotted three shadows.

  A sharp inhale from one of the bulky figures. “Smells like feathers, it does.”

  “The Morrigan said to eat it,” a deep voice rumbled, “and I will.”

  “It was I’s spell,” a third troll snarled, “and I get the first bite.”

  The air cleared, and Mac shifted to stand between me and the trolls. Palm bright, he shoved me toward Rook and turned to face our enemies.

  “We aren’t leaving you behind.” I gripped his arm in one hand and Rook’s in the other. “Move.”

  Daibhidh darted ahead, and I lurched after him, dragging the guys behind me.