Authors: M.J. Scott
“What else am I supposed to do, Guy? I’m a healer. Blood-locking kills hundreds of humans. It’s one of the few things we can’t fix. Of course, I want to find a cure. I don’t want anyone else to suffer what we did.”
“You think a cure will stop the suffering?” I said incredulously.
“Of course.”
“You
idiot
.”
Simon took a step toward me, fists clenched. “For fuck’s sake, Guy, could you get off your high moral horse for once in your life? How on earth can a cure be anything but a good thing?”
“Because,” I ground out, “it makes it easier for people to choose the Night World. What will keep them away if they don’t have to fear blood-locking?”
“Common sense,” Simon shouted. “People aren’t crazy, Guy.”
“No? Then why do so many of them become addicted in the first place? I promise you, for each person who has actually done it, there are others who are curious. Who would try a little Night World dabbling if they didn’t think the cost was too high. And you want to make it so there’s no cost at all.” I almost spat the words at him. Hell’s fucking
balls
. I’d known we had different views on the Blood, but I’d never thought my own brother would be so stupid.
“But they’ll be able to come back,” Simon protested. “They won’t die. They won’t be lost.”
“And how do you think the Blood will react to that?” I roared. “Why do you think they are trying to kill you? They’ll cause all sorts of havoc in the negotiations if this gets out. We’ll have to make all sorts of concessions to get them to agree to renegotiate any of the laws around the blood-locked. They’ll hold us for bloody ransom.”
And that wasn’t all they could do.
The pieces of it all suddenly came together in my head. Ignatius. Cormen—whoever the hell he was—and Ignatius. And the Beasts. Cormen was Fae. Why would a Fae be helping Ignatius, exactly?
It always came down to fucking power. “And they might do fucking worse than that.”
Lily spoke first. “What do you mean?”
I looked at Lady Bryony, as all the treaty law and Fae law I’d ever had drummed into me by the order swirled in my head. “Do any of the Fae apart from you know about Simon?”
“Not officially,” Bryony said. “Chrysanthe—well, she got herself killed but likely she was working for Lucius. We don’t know how he recruited her. We couldn’t find anyone else working for him. But there could be others who know. Here or in Summerdale.”
“But you don’t know for sure?” I asked. “No one from the court knows?”
“We spoke to the Speaker for the Veil about Lucius, after he tried to kill me,” Simon said. “But he doesn’t know about this.”
“As far as we know,” Bryony added softly. The chain around her neck was slowly turning gray. She was worried.
“But you’re High Family,” I said.
“Yes.” Bryony’s chain flickered as though a spark had run through it, whirling through multiple colors before returning to purple.
“Then it could be enough that you know. The queen is taken under your laws to know what her nobles know, isn’t that right?”
“Veil’s eyes,” Bryony breathed, eyes widening. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Hadn’t thought of what?” Simon said. “Someone care to explain for the rest of us?”
“Under Fae law,” Bryony said, “the queen is assumed to be responsible for the actions of the members of the Veiled Court—the High Families.”
“How does that work?” Simon asked. “I thought the queen administered justice in the Veiled World.”
“She does. If those crimes only impact the Veiled World, then those responsible are punished. But if there’s a treaty violation, it lies at her feet. She’s supposed to control the court, after all,” Bryony said.
“Holly”—I forced myself not to look over to where she lay”—and I were working together. I wanted to know who was ordering the Beast attacks on the order.” I flexed my hands, staring at the tattoos I’d defiled because I’d trusted Holly. “And she wanted to find her mother. Who’d been taken by a Fae.”
“The one who cast the geas?” Bryony asked.
“That seems a safe assumption.”
“Anyway, to cut a long story short, it all comes back to Ignatius Grey. Who is suddenly in funds. Funds enough to buy himself a pack of young Beasts to carry out ambushes perhaps.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Simon asked.
“I suspect the ambushes are a distraction, a way to scatter our attention,” I said. “They wanted the Templars to be drawn thin. And most likely, one of the reasons for that is to keep us away from St. Giles. So that they could get to you. To this—” I waved my hand at the room.
“I still don’t understand,” Simon said.
“We thought Lucius wanted you dead,” I said. “And maybe he did. Because if you were dead, this place would be far less protected. And if I were Lucius and I wanted to gain power, then I would want to destabilize the treaties. To do that, the best way would be to go after those who hold the balance of power.”
“The Fae,” Simon. “But what—”
“Oh, shit,” Lily said beside me. “They want to try and take out the queen.”
Everyone started talking at once, making it impossible to decipher any of it. “Shut up!” I said, trying to cut through the chaos.
It worked.
“Good.” I rubbed my head for a moment, where the ache seemed to start at the new scar on my forehead and carve a path like a blade through to the base of my skull. “Bryony, am I right?”
Bryony’s eyes were stormy, but she nodded, one hand toying with her chain. I’d never seen her look rattled before.
“Bryony?” I prompted.
“The Veiled Queen is the one who forged the treaties,” Bryony said. “She brokered the first deals with the humans and the Beasts and the Blood after the Templar Wars. She was the one who decided there should be peace in the first place. She dragged the Fae with her. Much like the Blood, we do not all agree. There are those in the court who might prefer a less constrained existence. But as long as the queen holds the throne, she will defend the treaty.”
“And how do you bring down the Fae queen?” I asked.
“If there was proof that she knew about a treaty violation—a serious one—and did nothing, then enough of the court might be swayed to act to remove her. If someone was already laying the groundwork—whispering in the ears of those who are unhappy with her rule—it might work.”
“And if Bryony knows. About Simon. About this. Even about me. Plus the Speaker for the Veil has reason to suspect. Either of those could be used to argue that the queen knew.”
“And that’s enough for the court to remove her?” Atherton asked.
Bryony shrugged. “Maybe not. It’s likely that most of the court would want proof of what Simon has been doing. We Fae can’t lie, but the rest of you can. There would have to be evidence when so many other races are involved. That’s why they need to get to Simon. If they had him—or Atherton—that may be enough to make someone bold enough to try and stage a coup perhaps. Who knows?”
“Someone might be bold if they had the backing of the Blood Lord,” Atherton said. “Didn’t I hear you mention Ignatius Grey? He has ambition, that one. And lack of sense enough to attempt something this reckless. He wants to be the next Lucius. An offer of assistance from some of the Fae would be very appealing if he thought that what they offered would increase his chances of becoming Lord. And he might be in the position to know some of what Lucius knew. Or suspect it, at least. Enough to be curious about Simon and find allies to help him turn the situation to his best advantage.”
An unholy alliance between the most ambitious of the Blood and those of the Fae who chafed under the treaty. Our worst nightmare.
“What we’re doing isn’t wrong,” Simon said. “There’s no treaty law against finding a cure for blood-locking.”
“Because nobody ever thought somebody would try it,” I said. “The law gives the Blood the right to feed amongst the Nightseekers and the right to do what they will with the locked. That’s not something they will want to give up. They will absolutely try and strike down a cure as a violation of their rights. If they don’t do something worse.”
“Such as?” Simon growled.
“If someone like Ignatius becomes Blood Lord, then this would give him the perfect way to break the treaty. Surely you can see that?” He
must
have thought about the implications of what he was doing? Or had he truly let his healer instincts blind him to the consequences?
“The question, then,” Lily said, “is how do we stop a plot against the queen and stop Ignatius gaining control over the Blood?”
“We can’t go after Ignatius directly,” I said. “Not so close to the treaties. Holly has evidence linking Henri Favreau to Ignatius, but we’d need more than that to prove he’s behind the ambushes. We have no real proof yet.”
“You need the one who set the geas,” Bryony said. “He has to be involved. Do you know who it is?”
“If it’s the one who has her mother and her sister, then his name is Cormen. That’s all I know.”
Bryony’s eyes narrowed. She turned and crossed to Holly. Bending to the bed, she jerked Holly’s pendant free from beneath her shirt. The light hit the gems, sparking black and blue. Bryony studied the jewels with the air of someone deciphering a code.
“Sa’Inviel,” she said. She looked down at Holly. “She must be Cormen sa’Inviel’astar’s get. These stones are sa’Inviel colors. Or closer to those than any other. And Cormen is not a common name among us.”
“You know him?” I asked.
Bryony nodded. “The sa’Inviel are a closemouthed clan. Traditional. I would not have picked them to be involved in this, but the ’astar line is a minor one, without real power. Cormen has always thought himself better than those around him.”
“We have to stop them,” Simon said.
I scowled at him. “We? You’ve done enough damage for now, Simon.”
He winced. “I’m not letting you charge off alone.”
“You don’t have any say in that,” I said.
“You’re not—”
“Guy’s right,” Bryony said. “Simon can’t leave St. Giles. Nor can Lily. It’s too dangerous. Plus they will only complicate things where you have to go.”
“And where’s that?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“You and Holly have to go to Summerdale. You have to find Cormen and bring him before the queen.”
Chapter Twenty-one
GUY
“No!”
The denial rose in my throat automatically. “I am not going to take her. She can’t be trusted.”
Bryony shook her head. “You need her. She can lead you straight to Cormen.”
“How?”
An eloquent Fae shrug. “We wake her up. We tell her what we just told you. And her geas will lead you home.”
“Why, in the name of all that is holy, would you tell her what our enemies want to know?”
“There’s no choice, Guy.” Bryony’s chain flashed red. “I cannot go into Summerdale. If I am questioned, I can’t lie. If you go alone, you may not even be admitted. Even if you were, you have no chance of finding a Fae who doesn’t want to be found on your own.”
“She’s a spy, a Night World spy. She was willing to betray Simon.”
“She was acting under a geas,” Lily said.
“Is that an excuse?”
Lily’s expression turned steely. “I think I know rather more than you about being forced to act against your will. You said this man has her family. Are you going to blame her for doing exactly what you would do in her place? For trying to save the ones she loves?”
“She lied,” I said flatly. Endangered my family. Took me to her bed, smiling sweetly. It was all a lie.
“Ah,” Lily said. She shook her head at me. “So merciless.”
“Bryony is right,” Simon said. “You need her—”
I opened my mouth and he held up a hand.
“You don’t have to trust her, but you do need her.”
“Says the man who is causing all this trouble in the first place.” My head pounded. I felt as if I had walked into a nightmare. Holly had betrayed me. Simon was working with a vampire. And they wanted me to just go on as though nothing were wrong. My hands curled. I wanted to hit something. Anything.
“You swore oaths to protect the City,” Bryony said. “Will you forsake them now? Become the forsworn knight everyone believes you to be?”
My fists curled tighter, tighter than the knots in my stomach. No. I would hold to my oaths. That much I had left to me. But I didn’t have to like it. “I will do my duty. Wake her up.”
HOLLY
I stayed silent while they explained the plan to me. They would tell me Simon’s secret so that the geas would lead me to Cormen. Guy would come with me. Bryony and Lily and Simon gathered around me, faces earnest. Guy was halfway across the room, back turned.
It was perfectly clear that he was not pleased with this development. I, on the other hand, felt relief. Here was a way to get to Cormen and to bring him down.
“I’ll help you,” I said. “But I want my mother and Reggie.”
“You’re hardly in a position to bargain,” Bryony said. Of the three of them, her manner was coolest. Simon was carefully professional. Lily was hard to read, but I thought I saw a hint of sympathy in her clear gray eyes. She’d been a slave once. Maybe she understood.
“We had a deal, Guy and I,” I said.
He turned at that. “You lied to me.”
I wanted to flinch away from the anger in his eyes. Instead, I lifted my chin. If I had lost any chance with him and if I was going to attempt this madness, then I deserved something at least. “I kept my end of the bargain. I found out about Henri and Ignatius for you. You swore to help me.”
Guy turned away again.
Simon started to move, but Lily put a hand on his arm. “I’ll do it.” She walked over to Guy, said something in low tones. Guy shook his head. Lily spoke again.
Guy turned back to me, face stone. “Very well. Your mother and Regina will be safe if it is in my power to see it so.” He spun away again and this time walked out of the room. The door to the outer chamber swung shut behind him with a horribly final sound. Like the cover of a crypt sliding home. Severing all light and air. Severing anything that had been between us.
Stupid. I’d known all along that he could only walk away from me eventually.
If he could be stone, then so could I.
“I’m ready,” I said to Simon. “Tell me what Cormen wants to know.”
* * *
“Could you at least look at me?” I held on to the grab strap as the autocab rattled around a corner and waited to see if Guy would finally respond. He’d yet to address me directly since we’d left the ward. He hadn’t listened when I’d tried to explain. To apologize. I needed him to hear me.
Slowly, his head turned and ice blue rage focused on my face.
I gripped the strap more tightly to resist the urge to flinch. He was angry. I couldn’t fault him for that. But I wasn’t going to cower to make him feel better.
“If you can’t talk to me, then this isn’t going to work,” I said, keeping my tone light, as if we were discussing nothing more complex than the weather. Which was hot. The sun burned high and fierce, turning the sky to a white-blue shimmer. Sweat dampened my prim white cotton shirt and long skirt. The sunlight only added to the ache in my head caused by too little sleep and fear and guilt.
“I’ll talk when it’s necessary.”
The cab jolted again. Unlike me, Guy simply braced himself with a hand against the door. The beasts on his hands were very black.
“It’s necessary now,” I said. “We have to plan what we’re going to do.”
“We have a plan. We’re going to Summerdale. We’re going to find Cormen and bring him to the queen. Make him confess his alliance with Ignatius. Then this will be all over and done with. And I won’t have to see you ever again.”
I flinched then, cheeks reddening as though he’d slapped me. There. He’d said it. The words I’d known were coming. I clenched my fingers tighter still, willed the bite of the hardened leather to keep the tears at bay. Guy’s face was perfectly blank, his eyes looking through me rather than at me.
“I can go to Summerdale alone,” I said. “You don’t have to come.” Even now, I could feel the geas tugging at me. West. Toward the Veiled Court. Toward a distant spark I assumed was my father. I could find him alone, if I could get myself admitted to the Veiled World. I didn’t rate my chances of rescuing my mother and Reggie very highly without Guy, but I didn’t want him there if he wasn’t on my side. At least for as long as it took to accomplish our task.
“Yes, I do. If I don’t, then you’ll run straight to Cormen and tell him what he wants to know.”
I sucked in a breath. He was angry. Angry with me, angry with Simon judging by the snarled interaction I’d witnessed between them back at St. Giles.
Angry with the whole hells-damned world. I kept telling myself maybe he would see reason eventually, but as each word he said to me turned more barbed, cutting deeper, I struggled to believe my own lies.
But I couldn’t afford pain and heartbreak right now. So instead I used something else. My own anger. At Cormen. At Simon. At the stupid, stubborn man beside me who could see nothing but black-and-white and didn’t care enough about me to give me even the slightest chance to explain. “You know,” I said, letting my own voice turn icy, “I was doing something I was forced to do. And if your brother hadn’t—”
“We’re here.” Guy cut me off with a gesture. He was out of the cab almost before it came to a complete halt. I climbed out on the other side. I didn’t think Guy would be coming around to assist me. I doubted he’d lift a finger to do anything beyond what he considered to be his duty for me ever again.
Don’t think
. I lifted my chin and smoothed my skirts while Guy paid the driver, pretending it was the glare of the sun making my eyes water.
When my vision cleared, I took in the sight before me. The Guild of Metalmages was a complex of redbrick buildings, surrounded by an ornate wrought-metal fence. It was said that each class of students added another layer of enchantment and decoration to the metalwork standing between the guild and the rest of the citizens of Silversdown.
I could believe it. The fence was a dense screen of curling and twisted metal. Leaves and flourishes and curlicues chased themselves over and around and between the spiked metal supports, looking like the product of the union between a lace maker and a possessed blacksmith.
But there was no time to admire the artistry of the work. Guy concluded his business with the driver and then marched past me, headed for the main gate.
No rest for the wicked, it seemed.
GUY
The gate guard recognized me and waved us through. I kept walking, not stopping to see whether Holly still followed me. I didn’t want to see her. Didn’t want to talk to her.
Her or Simon, for that matter. But I’d set out to stop those who wanted to hurt my brother, and I would see that task through. Even if I didn’t agree with what he was doing. He had, in a way, betrayed me.
That part made me feel as sick as I did when I thought about Holly. How I’d been taken in by big eyes and easy kisses.
Fool
.
But apparently being a fool didn’t stop just because you found out you were a fool. Because every time Holly tried to reach out to me, tried to apologize, I couldn’t completely ignore her. It hurt me when I hurt her, cutting her off. Shutting her out.
She hid her pain well, but I still felt it. Or was that my own?
Fool
.
We had to wait in the main hall as they sent for Saskia. She appeared quickly enough, moving with authority through the milling students and mages and visitors.
She looked at home here. My little sister fitted in with the other mages, her hair pulled back smooth against her head and soot smudging one cheek and several places on her plain gray dress. Certain of her power. I only hoped hers wasn’t going to lead her into the same sort of idiocy as Simon’s. But that was a discussion for another time.
“Guy?” She stood on tiptoe to kiss my cheek. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes were curious as they turned in Holly’s direction. “Miss Everton.”
“Is there somewhere we can talk privately?” I asked before they could get too far into polite female chitchat. We didn’t have a lot of time. So far, Holly was resisting the geas, possibly because we were moving toward Summerdale, but Bryony had said that the longer we took, the more likely she would lose control and run.
That only lifted Saskia’s eyebrows higher, but she nodded at me. “My workshop.” We followed her through the building and out the other side to a set of small one-storied structures set around the garden beyond. Each of them stood slightly apart from its fellows . . . probably to minimize the risk of fire spreading in the case of student accidents. Metalmagery gone awry could produce some spectacular results.
Saskia stopped at the last of the squat little buildings and unlocked the heavy metal door.
I followed her into the workshop. I had no idea what most of the apparatus scattered around the long wooden counters did: strange glass tubes and metal implements, piles of leather-bound notebooks, and two heavy copper sinks. The air smelled of smoke and steam and flames with an acrid tang of chemicals.
“We need weapons. For Summerdale. No iron or anything else that the Fae wouldn’t permit,” I said when Saskia closed the door.
Saskia’s eyes narrowed. “I seem to remember you having a fairly impressive arsenal of your own.” She crossed the room and unlocked a chest under one of the windows. She lifted the lid but then turned back to me. “What exactly is this about, Guy?”