Old Dog, New Tricks (18 page)

“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 register 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.

Ready or not, here we come
.

Chapter Thirteen

––––––––

T
he consul’s escape route twisted us around and spat us out into merciless Winter. Thank God I had worn the spelled leather. The biting slap of frigid air stung my cheeks as I stepped from the protective stone tunnel. My lungs ached to breathe, and my eyes watered until a thin sheen of frost spiked my eyelashes. Behind us frustrated curses rose, and when I turned, black smoke blanketed Autumn.

“We had better get moving before the trolls locate the tunnel.” Daibhidh gathered his feather-inspired coat around him. “We will reach the Halls of Winter before sundown if we hurry.”

I put the question to my father. “Mac?”

Shaw was at Rook’s residence. The Morrigan and the tether were at the Halls.

“If we fail to subdue her...” Mac’s gaze lowered.

Then Shaw died either way.

A shake of my head rattled thoughts I didn’t want settled yet, and I threw out an arm, indicating Daibhidh should lead. “After you, Consul.”

Mac fell in behind him. Rook walked past me, and I let him go. All I needed was to miss something because I was looking over my shoulder every step of the way.

Our trek across Winter was aided by an odd trick of familiar magic. The more you dreaded reaching your destination in Faerie, the longer your journey took. The more eager you were, the faster it went. How it made adjustments for people traveling together... I had no idea. But I was eager enough for us all.

Not that I had a watch—or my cellphone—to check, but my internal clock was guessing the trip lasted two hours. That was it. That was all the space we got to mentally prepare, and it felt too fast.

To pin a name to it, I felt herded, rushed toward something I ought to circle before approaching.

No time
.

Our ragtag quartet was all in.

A shudder rippled through Rook’s shoulders, and his steps hesitated. “Here we are again.”

Knowing he was addressing me, I stepped beside him and suppressed my own shiver. The Halls of Winter rose bleak and ominous from the frozen ground. Blocks of ice taller than me built the walls. Spindly turrets rose in three of its four corners, and a snow-dusted platform hung suspended from cables over a quarter of the exposed interior courtyard. Frowning, I thought the cables must be important somehow.

I craned my neck to glimpse the icy peak, but heavy clouds obscured the upper level. Guards strolled along the high walls, and each held suspension cables in hand. That seemed important too.

Rubbing my forehead, I dropped my hand when I caught Rook’s eye. “Do you feel strange?”

A slight curl lifted his lips. “Is something the matter?”

“I feel like I’ve forgotten something. Like it’s right there—on the tip of my tongue—but I can’t find the words.” I smoothed the gooseflesh from my arms. “I have the worst case of déjà vu.”