Fields of Blood (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 2) (9 page)

A
few minutes later, the four of us were back in the parlor. Sadie had scrounged some dry towels, so at least no one was currently dripping on the floor. And Taeral had reclaimed his unopened bottle, like just holding it was enough to keep his demons at bay.

Apparently one of those demons was Reun.

“You do not remember,” Taeral said from his slumped seat at the table. “I suppose that does explain some of your recent behavior. It nearly amuses me.”

Reun stood by the window, arms folded across his waist. “Whatever I’ve done, I am truly sorry,” he said. “I cannot imagine forcing anyone into a
gealdht.
”

“Perhaps because you’ve not imagined what came before it.”

Sadie, who’d been standing next to me, sat in the chair beside Taeral. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk about this,” she said gently. “Sometimes the past should stay there.”

“Oh, but Lord Reun wishes to know. And who am I to deny him what he wants?” The vicious edge in Taeral’s voice could have cut through steel. “Only the son of the Unseelie Queen’s most favored noble, the Captain of the Guard. Something he should have perhaps discovered
before
he had me dragged in front of the Seelie Court and whipped until I could no longer stand. For speaking to his wife
.
”

A stunned silence fell on the room. I decided I’d better sit down, before my twisting gut made me fall. I’d seen Taeral’s back the first time we met. It was covered with scars, and I remembered thinking, at the time, it was the only thing we had in common. A lot of scars.

But it sounded like he’d gotten most of his all at once.

Reun’s jaw dropped. “I’d not have done that,” he said, his voice barely carrying. “It cannot be true.”

“Not true?” Taeral gave a cold laugh. “You had the whip soaked in mandrake oil and enchanted with the spell from Aeshara’s dagger, to ensure that I would always bear the scars. Do you want to see the proof of it?”

“No. I’ll take your word.” He closed his eyes. “Forgive me, but what dagger? I remember none of this.”

“It was a
drais-ghan
, a spelled dagger. Curved and serrated, etched with runes that increased the damage done.”

I knew that weapon. He had at least two of them, for some reason, and he’d given one to me. Now I was really glad he hadn’t stabbed me with it, back when he thought I was just a random human invading his tent. Being cut with a regular knife was bad enough.

Reun’s shoulders slumped. “I recall no such weapon.”

“As I said, it belonged to your wife.” Taeral leaned his head back. “My father admired weapons. He worked a great deal with them—collected them, trained with them. He’d always sought more, for himself and the Guard’s arsenal. Aeshara told him of the dagger, and he asked for it so he could duplicate it. She agreed. So he sent me with her to fetch it.” He looked at Reun. “When you found me in your home, with your wife, you asked no questions. You simply decreed punishment. And Aeshara said nothing in my defense.”

“I do not understand,” Reun said in unsteady tones. “Why would I have done this?”

Taeral’s lip curled. “You’d not shared your motivations with me.”

“I cannot...” Reun shuddered. “You said I forced you into a promise.”

“Aye, you did,” Taeral said. “After you had me whipped, someone informed you who I was. You feared retaliation from the Unseelie Court. A smear to your precious reputation. So you made me swear not to tell my father, or anyone who might inform him, what had happened. Which was everyone I knew.” He shook his head. “And now the
gealdht
is broken, because no one can tell my father anything he’ll understand or remember.”

After a long silence, Reun said, “If I’ve done this to you, this...unforgivable horror. Why have you invited me into your father’s house?”

I’d been wondering that myself—and now I was thinking maybe he just wanted to kill him somewhere dry. At least I understood why he’d hated Reun so violently since the moment Sadie told him the Seelie was working for Milus Dei.

“I’ve brought you here to atone for your actions,” Taeral said, and his voice was dangerously calm. “Is that not what you want?”

“Yes, of course,” he rasped, drawing himself straight. “Anything.”

“Taeral,” Sadie murmured. “Don’t....”

He silenced her with a look, and then stood and approached Reun. “Then you will swear to protect my father, and all who reside in this house, until I return. You will swear not to harm anyone. You will do this knowing there are many here who’ve cause to harm you, and who may do so. Do you understand this?”

“You can’t make him do that,” I said. I wasn’t exactly feeling the love for Reun, even though he really didn’t seem to know what happened. But if he wanted someone to take care of Daoin, this wasn’t going to work. Reun wouldn’t survive long enough. “Denei and Zoba, they’ll kill him. Grygg might too.”

Taeral turned his too-calm gaze to me. “My father is defenseless. I cannot leave him without absolute protection, and this is the only way to get it,” he said. “I’ll not allow anyone to kill the Seelie. But I cannot—and
will
not—ensure he’s not harmed.”

“I’ll swear it,” Reun said. “If I am harmed, it’s no less than I deserve. I hereby vow to—”

“Wait. You’ll vow this to Daoin.”

With that, Taeral walked from the room.

I’d never experienced a longer, more awkward silence.

If there was anything to say, I had no idea what it was. Sadie looked just as stunned as I felt, and Reun was a study in misery.

Eventually he roused himself and directed a haggard stare at the table. “For what it’s worth, you’ve both my apologies for what I’ve done. I...cannot imagine how this happened.”

“Well, it did happen. I’ve seen the evidence.” Sadie knuckled her eyes and drew a watery breath. “He never talked about the scars. Now I know why.”

“Mandrake oil,” Reun muttered. “Not once in my life have I considered using that as a punishment. This curse...if Aeshara meant to destroy me, she’s managed it. Three hundred years of fragmented memories, with all that she’d touched torn away.” He leaned back against the window. “Was I truly such a monster?”

“Three hundred years?” I blurted without meaning to. “How old are you, anyway?”

He laughed bitterly. “Nearly seven hundred. And I do not recall myself as being cruel, or quite so arrogant as this. At least for the first four centuries.”

Taeral came back in before I could decide how to react to that. Daoin walked beside him, back to his usual pale blue self and more alert than before. When he saw Reun, his expression tightened for a few seconds. But then he smiled. “Reun,” he said. “I remember your name. You’re...my friend.”

“Yes, Lord Daoin. I am.” Reun shuddered and stepped forward.

“Father, your friend would like to make you a promise,” Taeral said. “Will you hear him?”

“A promise,” Daoin repeated, his brow furrowed. “Promises must be...kept.”

“Aye, that’s right. And he’ll keep this one.”

Without prompting, Reun dropped to a knee in front of Daoin. “I hereby vow to protect you and keep you from harm, and to protect those who dwell in this house and keep them from harm, and to do no harm myself to anyone in this house, until such time as Taeral Ciar’ Ansghar returns from his journey.” He bowed his head and traced an X on his chest with a finger.

Trails of light appeared along the path of the X to burn briefly, and then fade away.

Daoin frowned a bit. “Are you going to live in my castle, then?” he said.

“Yes, Lord Daoin. If you’ll have me.”

“Sure. There’s plenty of room,” Daoin said. “You don’t have to call me Lord, though. It’s not really a castle,” he added in a loud whisper.

Reun looked up at him with a genuine smile. “But you are my lord. And I am your...knight. Here to serve you and defend your castle.”

“Then you are Sir Reun.” Daoin returned the smile with simple innocence. “Come, Sir Reun. I’ll show you to your room, and mine.”

Reun rose and gave Taeral a wordless glance of apology, then followed Daoin out.

“He’ll care for him,” Taeral said when they were gone. “And we must leave as soon as possible, if we’re to help your family,
a’ghreal
.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Taeral, I’m so sorry about—”

“Enough,” he said, not unkindly. “The subject needs no further discussion. As you mentioned, it is the past.”

She nodded. “All right. Give me fifteen minutes to pack, and I’ll meet you out front.”

“I’m going to assume we’re driving there,” I said. “Should be faster than trying to deal with the trains. I’ll go get the van ready.”

“Very well. Sadie and I will join you soon.” Taeral’s features twisted in exasperation. “I’ve a need to visit the fourth floor and threaten the Duchenes, so they’ll not kill my father’s...knight.”

I thought I saw him smirking as he walked away. But I probably imagined it.

C
HAPTER 13

T
aeral apparently didn’t know how to drive, and Sadie was a wreck, so I was elected. Not that I minded. No one but me had ever driven my van, and I wasn’t sure I wanted that to change. Besides, it was only about two and a half hours to Elk Heights—I’d put in more road time than that on a daily basis for years, moving bodies.

Sadie took the passenger seat, and Taeral sat on the floor just behind us. I’d offered him my bed, or the stretcher, but he declined for some reason. Even after I swore I’d never transported a body on the bed.

I wasn’t that surprised. Most everyone got squeamish about corpses and the places they might have been. My views were an extreme exception.

Conversation was nonexistent until we hit the Jersey Turnpike and the long stretch of I-80. A few minutes after we got through the toll booth and settled into cruising speed, Sadie shook herself to alertness and frowned. “I have to tell you guys something,” she said. “I don’t want to, but I need to warn you.”

“About what?” I said.

“My pack.” She stared out the windshield, tucking her hands under her arms. “They hate the Fae, obviously. Most weres do. But they hate humans who know what we are a lot more. I don’t know what they’re going to make of you, Gideon. The thing is, whatever you do…don’t let them get the idea that you’re involved with me. Either of you.”

I couldn’t see Taeral’s face, but I’d bet he managed to keep it expressionless. So I’d ask the obvious. “Is it a problem if I can tell you two have a…thing?” I said. “Or had one, anyway?”

Sadie looked at me. “You can?”

“Uh, yeah. You’ve got that love-hate thing, the whole ‘we got it on once’ forecast with a fifty percent chance of surprise angry sex.”

“That is not your business, brother,” Taeral said tightly.

“Trust me, I don’t want to know. I’m just saying I noticed.”

“Oh, God,” Sadie said. “Taeral, have you ever thought that me and Gideon…um, you know? Be honest.”

He didn’t answer right away. Eventually he said, “I suppose the thought had crossed my mind, on occasion.”

“Well, you were wrong,” I said. “Just so you know.”

Sadie drew a deep breath. “Okay, listen. We
can’t
let them get that impression. You’ve got to be careful. They’ll kill you.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Overprotective father?”

“I’m not kidding.” Something in her eyes shut down, and she turned back to the windshield. “I told you I left when I was seventeen,” she said. “I had a boyfriend—fully human. Lived in Elk Heights. His name was Michael Nelson.”

I didn’t like the sound of that
was
.

She swallowed briefly. “We’d been together a little over three years. I mean, we were just kids, but you know how it is. To a teenager, everything in your life is the most important thing ever. And…he asked me to marry him.”

“At seventeen?” I said. “That sounds pretty serious to me.”

“Well, it’s a small town. Kids marry young a lot, mostly because there’s nothing better to do. But I did love him,” she said with a shuddering sigh. “I thought I wanted to marry him, but I couldn’t see spending the rest of my life trying to hide the fact that I was a werewolf. I wouldn’t have been able to anyway—our time of the month is a real bitch.”