Power & Majesty (42 page)

T
he scent of ferax overwhelmed Macready. He took a deep breath, forcing himself not to panic or to call out Delphine’s name. With his two skysilver lasses bared and ready, he moved further into the narrow alley.

A bright ginger ferax trotted out to greet him, and it was a moment before Macready realised it wasn’t Dhynar but an actual ferax. Just as cats clustered madly around Ashiol when his animor was in full bloom, and mice hovered whenever Velody was near, so the ratbag urban ferax liked to be near the Creature Lord who bore their shape.

‘Go on then, my fine furry friend,’ Macready said lightly. ‘Take me to your man.’

The ferax gave him one of those chilly ‘you are not important’ looks that animals were so good at, then turned and padded back the way it had come.

Macready followed, expecting an ambush. He wasn’t disappointed.

The first thing he saw as he rounded the curve of the alley was Delphine, limp like a broken doll on the ground.
Dead
, he thought, and his mind went numb at the realisation.
Oh, my poor sweet lass.

‘Haven’t you had enough of me, Macready?’ teased the voice of Dhynar.

‘Aye,’ breathed Macready, his hands loosening and tightening on the hilts of Tarea and Jeunille. ‘So I have, my Lord. Time to put an end to it.’

Brighthounds and darkhounds emerged from the shadows, staring at him. Golden stripecats and silver slashcats peered at him from various windowsills.

‘Sure about that?’ asked Dhynar. He came forward, stepping with distaste over Delphine’s crumpled body. He was clad in red leather, immaculate in his battledress.

The cats and hounds shaped themselves into their Court form—dark-eyed Shade and albino Lennoc, seasoned veterans of the Creature Court, with the young and hungry Grago and Farrier only just behind.

‘Only your own courtesi this nox?’ asked Macready. ‘Hardly seems worth the trouble.’

Dhynar smiled. ‘She didn’t scream, you know. Barely a whimper. They don’t build demoiselles like they used to.’

I’m going to skin you alive and feed you to Priest’s bird women
, Macready thought in a haze of anger. He forced himself to be calm. ‘Still the bully-boy tactics, my Lord? This is no playground. You think killing the Power and Majesty’s friend will win you points? She won’t be merciful when she sees the mess you made of that lass of hers.’

Dhynar laughed. ‘You think I care about that bitch’s regard of me? She makes a mockery of the Creature Court.’

‘She humiliated you and you can’t take it,’ Macready said in disgust. ‘You made a blood oath that Delphine and Rhian would not meet harm at your hands. So easily forsworn, boy?’

‘An oath to a demme means nothing,’ said Dhynar. ‘She is not my Power and Majesty.’

‘You broke a blood oath,’ Macready repeated. ‘No angels and devils for you, my son. No sweet saints to sing you into the afterlife. The city owns your soul now. Velody
owns your soul. If you think she’ll be kind with it, you’re more of a fool than everyone says.’

For a moment, something like doubt crossed Dhynar’s face. Then he laughed. ‘I don’t believe in fairytales. But my blood oath’s only half-broken, you know. I believe in doing things completely. There’s still a trembling florister with my name on her.’

Blood buzzed in Macready’s ears. ‘Stay away from Rhian, you ginger bastard.’

‘Oh, she’ll open up for me like a rose, petal by petal. If she doesn’t…I’ll tear her up by her roots.’ Dhynar sniggered.

The younger courtesi shared the joke, but neither Shade nor Lennoc reacted to it. Good men, both of them. Macready hoped he wouldn’t have to kill either of them to get to Dhynar. Not that he wouldn’t.

‘You won’t touch a hair on that lass’s head,’ he said slowly. ‘You won’t be touching any more women, Dhynar, Lord Ferax, this or any nox.’

‘Such fine words for a shortarse,’ Dhynar mocked. ‘What are you going to do on your own,
little
man?’

‘He’s not on his own.’ Kelpie rounded the corner of the alley, the hilts of her Sisters plain on her shoulderblades and the Nieces on her hips. ‘I’ve been looking all over this saints-forsaken city for you,’ she muttered as she came to a halt alongside Macready. ‘Tell me you weren’t on a date with the chickadee.’

‘Don’t joke about Delphine,’ Macready growled, voice cracking a little. ‘The bastard killed her.’

Kelpie turned her mouth to his ear, speaking so quietly that even he could barely hear her. ‘You always were blind when it came to women, Mac. The bint’s not dead.’

Dhynar and his boys moved in that instant, so Macready didn’t have a chance of finding out if it was true, but his mind cleared for the first time since he saw Delphine’s crumpled body in the alley. It was time—long overdue, in fact—to let his lasses do the talking for him.

It felt good to be fighting back to back with Kelpie, skysilver blades whirling as they fended off Dhynar’s snarling, swiping courtesi. The fight was a blur of adrenalin and blood.

Macready miscalculated against Lennoc and lost Jeunille when the albino kicked the dagger out of his hand and it went skittering across the cobbles. Macready used his bare hand to punch the courteso in the throat and then the face. Lennoc went down and was still.

Shade pounced, shaping himself into two darkhounds as he attacked, but Macready brought Tarea up and slashed both bellies. The hounds fell back, whimpering, and crouched over the unconscious Lennoc. Macready spun around to help Kelpie, but she was finishing off Grago in a haze of elbows and blades. Farrier already lay on the ground, dead or knocked out.

‘What were you saying, my Lord Ferax?’ Macready breathed.

‘So pleased with yourself, mortal,’ said Dhynar in a deadly voice. ‘I am a Creature Lord and you cannot touch me.’

‘Tarea begs to differ,’ said Macready.

‘You broke a blood oath to a Creature King—to your own Power and Majesty,’ Kelpie said scornfully. ‘That makes you a dead man walking. No one’s ever survived it for more than a day.’ She quirked an eyebrow. ‘You might want to think about asking the saints of Aufleur for forgiveness—you know what happens to the Blood Forsworn if they die without repentance.’

Macready extended his sword tip, close enough to Dhynar that the skysilver buzzed at the proximity. ‘I’d take a hint from the sentinel, so I would. Make your amends to the sky and the city, or so help me, I’ll make you share Tasha’s fate.’

Dhynar moved back in a sweep of red leather, grasping Delphine by the shoulders and hauling her upright in front of him. She gasped and her eyes opened wide,
though they were still dazed. Her face was bruised, and blood matted her hair on one side of her skull.

‘Ah, me,’ said Dhynar, ‘it seems I forgot to kill this lass of yours. This, my friends, is what we call leverage.’

Thank you, saints and angels. I’ll show you proper gratitude once I’ve a minute spare.
‘You’re still forsworn,’ Macready said steadily. ‘The oath was not to hurt either of Velody’s lasses, or allow them to be hurt at your will.’

‘You think I care about being forsworn?’ Dhynar demanded. ‘Once your precious Velody finds this one gutted on her doorstep, and what’s left of the shrinking violet when I’m finished with her, she’ll throw herself at my feet. Can you imagine how good the animor of a Power and Majesty will taste when I’m the one who ripped her heart out?’

Kelpie and Macready shared a look. ‘She’ll eat you alive,’ said Kelpie. ‘She’ll slice you into pieces and sew you back up as a
coat
.’

Dhynar stared back, bemused. ‘A demoiselle,’ he said. ‘How strong can she be?’

‘Oh, lad,’ Macready said under his breath.

‘Where’s Ashiol in this grand plan of yours?’ Kelpie asked. ‘Where’s Poet, come to that? Not to mention, where’s your frigging brain?’

Dhynar smiled cheerfully. ‘Better be nice to me, sentinel. I’m going to own this city by the time the nox is through. You’ll be serving me.’

Kelpie blinked. ‘I honestly don’t know what to say to that.’

‘I have a fair idea,’ said Macready, grinning hard. ‘How about this? I can run you and Delphine through with this skysilver sword of mine and only one of you will bleed. I wonder which one?’

Delphine’s dazed expression sharpened a little at that and she glared at him.

‘I can tear her throat out before you get near me,’ Dhynar said pleasantly. ‘So what’s our next move, sentinel?’

Delphine threw up. Vomit flew down the front of her dress and drenched both of Dhynar’s arms.

‘Bitch,’ he gasped, but didn’t let go of her. ‘You’ll bleed for that.’

She threw her head back, butting him in the face, then pirouetted and stabbed him in the throat.

Only then did Macready realise why he hadn’t seen his dagger Jeunille after Lennoc kicked it out of his hand. The lass he thought was a corpse had grabbed it for herself.

Dhynar opened his mouth, as if he still had something to say. He staggered to his knees.

‘Repent,’ Kelpie said urgently. ‘Voice or no voice, the saints will forgive you if you want it hard enough. Don’t die forsworn, boy.’

In all this, Macready had forgotten quite how young Dhynar was. No matter. He would get no older.

The light went out of the eyes of Dhynar, Lord Ferax and he fell back against the cobblestones of the alley. The body twitched and glowed for a moment. Macready knew what it meant. The animor was detaching, to scream itself through the city and be quenched by the Creature Court.

He had other things to think about. The sight of Delphine, alive and homicidal and stinking with her own vomit, was by far the most important thing in the alley right now. He went to her and caught her up in a bear hug. ‘Who the devils taught you moves like that, my lovely?’

‘Don’t take too much credit,’ Delphine shot back, but smiled shakily at him. Proud of herself, he hoped.

‘You’re fecking miraculous,’ he told her, and couldn’t think of anywhere to look but right there, into her bright eyes.

‘Hate to interrupt this moment of yours,’ said Kelpie acidly. ‘You do realise that when the Court finds out that some little garland-maker from the daylight killed a Creature Lord, she’ll be fair game.’ She gestured to the empty corner of the alley where the wounded Shade had
been guarding the unconscious Lennoc. Somehow, they had crept away while the attention of the sentinels was elsewhere. ‘It won’t have gone unnoticed. The blood oath not to hurt her is void now she’s taken one of them—they’ll rip her apart to make an example of her.’

‘She’s not a daylighter,’ said Macready, grinning fit to burst. ‘She’s a sentinel. Killing Creature Lords who betray their Kings is our solemn duty.’

He winked at Delphine, and she gave a startled little laugh, then threw up again. He was learning to recognise the signs and managed to skip out of the way.

E
very step towards Heliora told Ashiol that there was somewhere else he needed to be. Aufleur was calling him, trying to warn him of something important. For once, he ignored it. He had a responsibility to fulfil, and he was sick of dancing to the fucking city’s tune. If there was a real problem, Velody could handle it. It was her job, not his.

This late at nox, the Basilica market was quiet, though there were still some lanterns and chatter near the worst of the grease-trap food stalls and the pay-by-the-hour tents.

Ashiol stopped outside Madama Fortuna’s Pavilion of Mystery. If he concentrated hard enough, he could sense Heliora breathing through the thick fabric of the tent walls. Kicking himself for not remembering that the seer was the least nocturnal of any of the Creature Court, he didn’t recognise the significance of the perfumed smoke approaching him until Livilla was close enough to touch.

‘Hello, darling.’

He turned slowly, steeling himself not to make any sudden moves. No reason for her to know that he hadn’t smelled her coming a mile away. ‘Livilla. No boytoys with you this nox?’

She extended her black leather boot in front of her and wiggled her foot. ‘All better. I can look after myself now.’

‘Yes, because women walking alone in Aufleur dressed like that have such an easy time of it,’ said Ashiol sarcastically.

Livilla glanced down at her sparkling black dress. ‘What? It’s fashionable. It even covers my knees; it’s almost conservative.’

‘It shows everything else. That bloody jewellery of yours—how many daylighters have tried to jump you since you came above?’

‘Ten or twelve. I mostly let them live. You can’t be worried about my wellbeing…’

‘Old habit. Surprised your boys agreed to let you out though. That raven of yours is trying so hard to be an alpha male.’

Livilla smiled that sweet, bright smile that had somehow survived her years as Garnet’s moll. ‘They
tried
to stop me. Anyone would think they had forgotten who the Lord is. Men tend to do that, I’ve noticed, when a woman is in charge.’

‘You beat up your own courtesi?’

‘Of course not. I drugged their syrup and left them snoozing in a puddle together. Buy me a drink, Ashiol?’

This was getting far too comfortable. ‘I’m busy,’ he said shortly.

‘So predictable, my cat. If you must wake the seer, don’t you think you could wait an hour or two? She’s not going to kill herself in her sleep.’ Livilla indicated a nearby gin stall with a swish of her shiny black bobbed hair. ‘I’m thirsty.’

Ashiol gave up. ‘Do you know everything, Liv?’

‘I’m the only female Lord in a sea of men, darling. I hear all the gossip.’

They went to the gin stall together. He bought her a deep cup of something expensive that smelled of booze and pears and burnt sugar, and a single shot for himself. Livilla sprawled on the bench provided for patrons and
Ashiol sat beside her without thinking about it. She put her feet in his lap and he didn’t push her away.

‘So what pretty piece of poison did you come here to spout in my ear?’ he asked her.

She pressed her heavily painted lips together. ‘Oh, that’s right. I wanted to tell you that your sweet little Velody is frigging Mars and I’m not happy about it.’

Ashiol closed his eyes. ‘You’ve based this on the evidence of what? No, don’t tell me. He’s an hour late for an assignation with you.’

‘Two,’ she pouted. ‘I know he’s with her. He went to get his precious cup of blood.’

‘Not that fidelity has ever been an issue for either of you, but Velody isn’t likely to—’ Her words caught up with him. ‘His cup of what?’

‘Didn’t you know?’ She smiled wolfishly, and drank from her cup. ‘She promised him a goblet of her blood, as a bribe to take to the sky. Back when you were playing bondage games with Poet in that cage of his.’

Ashiol swore. ‘What is she thinking? Doesn’t she have any idea of what that blood of hers is
worth
?’

‘Obviously not.’ Livilla yawned and leaned back on her arms. ‘Anyway, you know how horny Mars gets around blood. If he didn’t tear the sky apart in his speed to get back to me, that means he’s between her thighs right now, showing her why Zafiran men are so very popular with the ladies.’

‘You’re enjoying this way too much,’ Ashiol accused. ‘You don’t care who Mars is screwing—you know he always comes back to you. You just want to see if I give a frig.’

‘You’re no fun,’ she sighed, and nudged his groin with the heel of her boot.

Ashiol leaped to his feet and handed his cup back to the gin man. ‘Game over, Liv.’

‘Don’t you want to know what gift Velody gave me?’ Livilla whined.

‘Hells, no.’ He thought about it. ‘Tell me. I’d better know the worst.’

Livilla stood, making the entire process a slinky, sensuous moment. She leaned into him, nuzzling her face into his neck. ‘You’re never going to have her, Ash.’

‘What?’

‘The wide-eyed little dressmaker. You’re not going to get to be the one who wakes her up to what the Court is
really
all about. One of us is going to slide her out of her daylight knickerbockers and unpeel those innocent layers until she cries for more, more, more! But it won’t be you. Maybe Mars. Maybe that adorable little boy sentinel. My money’s on Poet. There’s a glint in his eye I haven’t seen in a very long time.’

‘That’s the venom I’ve missed,’ said Ashiol with a grin, moving away from her. ‘Not everyone’s a succubus like you, love.’

‘Are you telling me you haven’t wanted her in your bed since the moment you first saw her?’ demanded Livilla. ‘Or maybe up against a wall—that’s more your style.’

‘I’m not having this conversation with you.’

‘Poor Ashiol. She doesn’t want you. Not even a little bit. If she did, she would never have made me that promise.’

‘What promise?’ He grabbed her wrists, and was annoyed to see that the violent gesture made her eyes shine and her breath come a little faster. She might be a vicious harpy now, but Ashiol remembered when Livilla had been sweeter than Velody and Rhian put together…

Livilla laughed delightedly. ‘When you frig her for the first time, I get to be there as witness. She swore a blood oath, Ash. You know what that means.’

A female scream cut through the Basilica.

‘Hel,’ Ashiol breathed, and started running.

Rhian’s bizarre little tisane party remained civilised for about ten minutes before Warlord cracked and tried to put Poet’s face through a window. It took all of the
animor that Velody could summon (short of changing to Lord form right there in the kitchen) to drag the two men apart, all the time wondering exactly what it was Poet had said to set Warlord off. It was remarkably easy to tune out Poet’s snark, and she hadn’t been listening to a word he said.

Warlord was literally glowing with rage. Velody shaped her power into a tight, cold burst and thumped him hard in the forehead with it. He sat down in a hurry on the kitchen floor. ‘Devils, woman. I would have killed Garnet for trying something like that on me.’

‘No, you wouldn’t have,’ she said firmly. ‘And you’re not going to raise a hand against me, my Lord. Get back to the table and finish your biscuit, or walk out that door right now.’

Warlord shot her a scorching look, but returned to his chair. ‘Good biscuits, demoiselle Rhian,’ he said politely.

Rhian gave him a strained smile. ‘I’ll give you the recipe.’

‘You,’ Velody said, pointing a figure at Poet. ‘Haven’t you ever heard that if you can’t say anything nice, you shouldn’t say anything at all?’

Poet looked faintly puzzled. ‘What’s the punchline?’

There was a knock on the kitchen door and it swung open. Priest stood there, resplendent in a bright scarlet waistcoat with gold cranes embroidered on it. ‘Ah,’ he said happily. ‘So this is where the best people are. I thought as much.’

Velody stared at the waistcoat for a moment. She had seen a few swatches of Isharo fabric in the markets, enough to recognise the style of the design, but it had never been fashionable in Aufleur.
Until now
, she thought, with a sudden blinding inspiration for the gown she had to make for the Duchessa to wear at the Sacred Games of Felicitas. Her fingers twitched, and she resisted the urge to throw everyone out of the house so she could get to work.

Too long a moment had passed. There was no getting rid of Priest now. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked belatedly.

The large man smiled at her. ‘There’s something in the air, my dear. Can’t you feel it? The sky is shivering. It’s all very ominous, and I felt the need for protection from my Power and Majesty. Ah, biscuits. Splendid.’

Rhian stood with great poise and fetched Priest a cup. ‘Mint or ginger?’ she asked politely.

Velody stared at her friend, not sure whether she was really getting better, or had just cracked under the pressure. Rhian was wary around these men and never allowed any kind of casual contact, even the brush of a sleeve against a hand, yet she seemed calmer than she had in months.
Perhaps we’ve frightened her so much, she’s come out the other side
, she thought, passing her own cup to Rhian for a refill.

Priest smiled around the table. ‘Isn’t this cosy?’

Something was wrong. Velody swayed, and flung an arm out to steady herself. Something burned hard in her throat for a moment.

‘Are you all right?’ Crane asked with concern.

‘I don’t…know,’ she gasped. ‘What is that?’ The others knew. She could see it on their faces. ‘Tell me!’

‘If you’ll excuse me, demoiselles,’ said Priest, moving towards the door, peeling off his clothes as he went.

Warlord said nothing, but shoved his way past Priest on the way out.

Poet gave Velody a courtly bow, face only slightly strained. ‘You’ll be wanting to join us, my lovely. One of us is dead and it’s time to lick the corpse.’

‘Stay with Rhian,’ Velody told Crane, then followed the Creature Lords out into her backyard.

Priest took to the sky, shaping himself into the flock of pigeons as he went.

Warlord folded down into the body of a sleek black panther and loped away through the gate.

Poet simply stood there, his arms stretched up to the sky. ‘I didn’t know he had that much in him,’ he said in surprise, and then tipped his head back as if expecting to be kissed. ‘Delicious.’

‘Who’s dead?’ Velody asked, the words choking in her throat.
Ashiol
, she thought for one awful moment.
Saints, what have you done to yourself now?
As soon as she asked the question though, she knew. ‘Dhynar.’ She could taste the absence of him in the air.

There was something else too—a tension that hummed and crackled under her skin. With a shiver, she remembered standing in the Forum, waiting for the Duchessa’s pavilion to pass by. She had felt something similar then, though she had not had any reason to know what it was. She knew now. Dhynar was coming to be quenched. His animor had been released into the air, in bursts and splashes like mud under the wheels of a cart. For a moment, it blanketed the entire city with a very thin film of his essence and power.

Velody found a thread of it and tugged it towards her. It came willingly.

They were all doing it, she realised. Even as she captured some of Dhynar’s released animor, she could feel the Lords and Court in their various positions above and beneath the city, gulping and chewing at strands of what was left of their fallen comrade. Only Livilla and Ashiol were absent from the feast.

For a moment, Velody fought revulsion at how easily the Creature Court cannibalised the dead.
Thimblehead
, she chided herself.
You let a man drink a goblet of your blood this evening. This is hardly the time to be prissy.

She remembered Ashiol talking about Garnet, and what a waste it was that his animor had been swallowed by the sky. The Court needed this—needed Dhynar’s strength to be shared among them instead of being lost to the enemy.

She pulled the thread of animor hard inside herself and reeled with the strength of it.
Saints and angels!
It felt like
sex and death all at once. Light burned inside her body as she swallowed Dhynar down. For a moment, she was overwhelmed by the scent of ferax, but she pressed her sense of self into the foreign animor and made it hers.

She wanted to break apart in an army of little brown mice. She wanted to go chimaera and tear the sky into fragments. She wanted to throw the nearest man to the ground and ride him into insensibility…

The fact that the nearest man was Poet brought her back into some semblance of control. Even as she did, he turned to her with fierce eyes and kissed her hard, pulling her body into his.

Velody sent him flying with a hard push of her animor. ‘Keep your tongue to yourself, Lord of Rats.’

Poet laughed at her. ‘Worth a try, my Power.’

She shuddered, still warm inside from the animor she had quenched from Dhynar. ‘Have I been doing that my whole life without knowing?’

‘You’re very good at repressing things,’ Poet suggested.

He wasn’t wrong there. ‘Has anyone been…promoted?’ she asked, with visions of a dozen brand-new Lords all powered up and ready to attack her.

‘You tell me,’ shrugged Poet. ‘Proximity matters. If any of his courtesi were close to the action, they might have been boosted up to Lord. We’ll have to wait and see.’

‘You could find out for me,’ Velody said, making her voice firm.

Poet gave her a look of disbelief. ‘Are you giving me a direct order?’

‘Yes, I think I am.’

‘Right, then.’ He grasped his ear in a mock salute. ‘Off I go then, my Power and Majesty. Your loyal servant.’

‘Why does that make me suspicious?’ she called after him, and heard his lilting laughter all the way down the lane.