The Dark Throne (11 page)

“She will always be
herravaldyr
, but now she is also
vyldretning
, and we must find a way to blend the two. Nothing will be as it was before, but we will do our best to preserve the culture of our people, even if it means teaching it to those who once scorned us.”

I narrowed my eyes. “The paint and the hair. That’s
ulfdrengr
, isn’t it?”

Luca smiled again. “No one may ever accuse you of being imperceptive, even though you are a mortal.”

“I
used
to be mortal. Now I’m something different,” I corrected him. The Sword added a thrum of emphasis, its power reaching out and caressing Luca. His grin widened.
Stop that
, I told the Caedbranr. Its chuckle vibrated through my ribs.

“In any case,” Luca continued, “yes. The golden-haired one of the new Three, she asked me what they could do to honor our people as they went out on the hunt.”

A sudden flare of jealousy caught me off guard as I thought of Gray talking to Luca. Her golden beauty outshone me effortlessly, and I realized in irritation that it wasn’t the first time I’d thought about her enviously that day. When had I become so petty? “I’m sure that was an interesting conversation.”

Luca stopped and faced me, raising his eyebrows. “Do you dislike her asking me a question?”

I fidgeted. “Maybe.”

He watched me with his ice-blue eyes. “What are you thinking, Tess?”

“I’m asking myself why I can’t be attracted to men who aren’t so damn
perceptive
,” I answered, raising one of my own eyebrows.

Luca grinned. “Tess, there is no need for you to be jealous.”

“Why is that?” I struggled to keep my voice even.

The big
ulfdrengr
chuckled and shrugged his magnificent shoulders. “I find no other female as fascinating as you, so you need not feel threatened.” He reached out one hand and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear in a disarmingly gentle gesture. “Though it does make me think more highly of my chances.”

“Your chances? This isn’t a contest,” I said with a hint of annoyance, batting his hand away with my own. But he caught my hand, gently, mindful of the bandage around my palm.

“No, it is not,” he agreed, his voice low with a hint of a growl. “It is a hunt, and it is what I am made to do.” His eyes danced playfully as I opened my mouth to argue, and I found myself grinning.

“I would rather hunt
with
you than be the object of the hunt,” I replied lightly.

“That is what makes it so exciting,” he said, raising my hand and brushing his lips along my wrist. I couldn’t stop the shudder that sent goosebumps racing up my arms, or the sudden hitch in my breath. Then I tensed. Finnead’s kiss still lingered in the back of my mind; Luca made my pulse race, there was no doubt about it, but I wasn’t ready to throw myself headlong into either of their arms. Without missing a beat, Luca began walking down the passageway again. Somehow his restraint made me want him more, despite the thoughts of misgiving that now vanished as suddenly as they’d appeared. But the moment passed, so I followed him again, the feel of his hand brushing lightly against my face imprinted in my mind as surely as the feel of Finnead’s lips. I resisted the urge to sigh—after all, I was reasonably sure that many of the Sidhe women in the Hall would be delighted to be caught between the affections of the darkly handsome Sidhe Knight and the fierce
ulfdrengr
.

Now you are starting to understand
, the Caedbranr said appreciatively as I contemplated the delicious taper of Luca’s torso, following the lines of his body from his broad muscled shoulders and chest to his slim yet still unmistakably masculine waist. I raised my gaze before allowing myself to look lower, suddenly sure that I would trip and fall if I did. I let the Sword’s remark pass unanswered, trying unsuccessfully to settle the whirl of my mind as we finished the walk to my room. We turned a corner, and Sage and Kianryk stood before us, the Seelie healer staring at Kianryk with crossed arms and one raised eyebrow. The tawny wolf seemed to think it was a contest of some sort, eyeing the Seelie healer with concentration, the tip of his tail twitching every now and again.

“Does your wolf fetch sticks like the hounds at court, or is he merely trying to inform me of your approach?” Sage asked without taking his eyes from the huge Northwolf.

Luca didn’t correct Sage immediately as Vell would have; for a moment, I thought he was offended, but he grinned and said, “You should try to make him fetch a stick sometime. It would be amusing to watch.”

“No insult intended,” Sage said easily. Kianryk held his gaze for a moment more and then without warning sprang past him, bounding down the hallway with explosive speed. Sage redirected his attention to Luca. “What happened? I think everyone in the Hall felt the cold.”

“There was a bit of a misunderstanding between the High Queen and her power again,” replied Luca.

“What, with the
Bearer
?” Sage said with affronted anger. He took a quick step forward and blatantly inspected me. “Was she hurt?”

“Thrown to the ground, but not injured,” Luca said.

“I’m standing right here,” I pointed out.

Sage looked at me. “No offense meant, Lady Bearer, but you have a tendency to downplay your injuries, when they occur.”

I sighed and held up my hands. “I reopened the right one, I think, and maybe bruised my ribs. But that’s it. The Sword protected me.”

“As it should.” Sage nodded. “Come on then.” He motioned to the open door of my room.

“I don’t want to go back to bed,” I said before I realized how much that made me sound like a child protesting her bedtime. Sage and Luca realized it too; I scowled at their grins. “Don’t let the hunt start without me,” I said to Luca.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied. He held my eyes for a moment. My skin tingled. Then he turned and strode down the hallway, following Kianryk.

“Let me see to your hand,” Sage said, “and I’ll even give you one of my books to read. You
can
read, can’t you?”

I sighed at him. “You don’t have to bribe me. And yes, I can read.”

“It wasn’t a bribe, it was an offer of exchange. You let me do my job, I’ll ensure you can do your job.”

“And what job is that?” I asked, crossing the room. I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off my boots, suddenly weary from the few hours that I’d been walking about the Hall. And, I supposed, from being thrown halfway across the room and the sudden fierce response from my
taebramh,
not to mention the Sword
.

“Defeating Malravenar,” Sage answered seriously. “And that means making sure you are strong enough to wield your full powers.”

I glanced up at his sudden levity. “All right. I’ll rest, you bring me the research you’ve been doing.”

“Deal.” Sage nodded. He held out his hand expectantly, and I gave him my right hand with its bloodstained bandage. As he began unwinding the bandage, I wondered, not for the first time, what it would take to defeat the darkness rising in the Fae world. I knew there would be more warriors who gave their lives, waking up one morning without the full knowledge that it would be their last, riding out into battle and falling at the hands of the hideous creatures of the enemy. But was that so very different than the lives led in the mortal world? I wondered suddenly. Most of us didn’t expect to die the day it happened. From what I remembered, my father didn’t have any warning that his trip down the street to the grocery store would be his last moments on earth.

The sting of salve on my raw palm brought my attention back to the present. I glanced down at my hand, held firmly in Sage’s grip as he examined the healing wound. Without comment, he finished applying the winter-scented salve and wrapped a new bandage around my hand. I relaxed under his sure but gentle touch; letting another healer care for my hands was actually a bit enjoyable after tending myself for a few days. Sage smiled slightly, as though he caught my train of thought. I slid up onto the bed before extending my other hand, leaning back against the headboard and closing my eyes, lulled by the crackling fire and my own weariness. My thoughts drifted. I thought of the Battle of the Royal Wood: the feel of Beryk beneath me as we raced through the forest, a swift shadow among the trees; the Sword’s new power circling behind my breastbone, thrumming through my veins, Gwyneth’s benediction still echoing in my ears. It had been almost easy, that first flood of power, unleashing devastation on the battlefield. I looked back now and realized that what I’d thought was a tremendous battle was truly just a skirmish, nothing more than a lazy flick of the wrist to the dark power that sought to rule the Fae realm.

The flood of power, the piles of ash marking each immolated Dark creature….and then the sight of the fallen Sidhe warriors on their pyre, pale faces carved with the absolute stillness of death, smoke wreathing their lithe lifeless limbs. I remembered the handsome young face of the Guard who had lent me his whetting-stone in the barracks, the night before he died. Then my heart tightened in sudden panic. I couldn’t remember his name. He had been Merrick’s sword-brother, he’d died fighting Malravenar’s forces in the Royal Wood, and I couldn’t remember his name.

“Something wrong?” Sage asked quietly, finishing the bandage on my left hand.

I realized I’d tensed, and I forced myself to take a deep breath, hooking a finger through the familiar circle of Gwyneth’s pendant. “Just thinking. Is there an armorer skilled enough to engrave letters upon a sword?”

“For the best engraving, that would be Conall,” Sage replied. “You’d have to ask the Captain of the Guard to release him to you—he’s been at his forge night and day crafting weapons for the riding-out.”

“I wouldn’t want to bother him, then,” I said.

“What would you like? It might do him some good to have a project requiring some skill to it, especially one requested by the Bearer.” Sage held up several books over at the large table, reading the titles gilded on their spines in shining gold letters.

I cleared my throat. “It’s…well, it’s just that I don’t have a good plain blade anymore. And I know I could have one from the armory that will serve perfectly well…which is what I’ll do if Conall is busy.” I smoothed the soft blanket with my fingertips. “But I realized I’m starting to forget the names of those I know who have fallen in battle. It’s not a long list, so I shouldn’t have trouble…but I want to have their names inscribed on my plain blade.” My cheeks burned in shame at my admission that I couldn’t remember the name of the young Guard. His face rose in my mind’s-eye. I could recall the look on his face as he asked whether I was truly mortal, and his confusion when I joked with him about vampires. The last memory brought a wistful smile to my face.

“I’m sure Conall would be happy to oblige,” Sage replied seriously. He hefted two large leather-bound volumes. “Now. You asked for my research, and here are two of the most useful books I’ve found. As I said before, the selection isn’t nearly what it was in the Great Library at Brightvale, but it will have to do.
A History of Native Creatures
, by one of our eminent Seelie Historians; and
On the Origins of the Worlds
, which draws together many shorter texts from both Courts’ Historians.”

“I think I’ve read part of
On the Origins of the Worlds,
” I said, taking the offered books and settling them in my lap. I thumbed through a few pages of the thicker text, noting with relief that they were written in what the Sidhe termed the Common Tongue. “Yes. When I was at Darkhill, Bren brought me some of these to read.” At Sage’s look of curiosity, I explained, “Bren was—is—studying under the Chief Scholar of Mortal History.”

“You’re certainly full of surprises, Lady Bearer,” Sage said.

“Tess,” I grumbled at him half-heartedly, already absorbed in the prologue of
A History of Native Creatures
. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sage watch me for a few moments, but I soon found myself fascinated by the origins and clans of mer-people. Apparently, the sirens I’d encountered in the Darinwel were the most vicious of their kind, and one of only four clans who preferred to hunt two-legged prey. Rather appropriate, I thought in grim amusement.

“Well, I know what to do if I ever want to convince you to stay in bed and rest,” Sage murmured, mostly to himself as he took his seat by the fire again. “Just provide you with a stack of books.”

I smiled and turned the page, eager to learn as much as I could in the time I had left before facing Malravenar.

Chapter 6

I
read
A History of Native Creatures
for the rest of the day. Sage held a conference in a low voice with Calliea when they turned over duties; Calliea brought me a large plate of food and a candle for my bedside table. I ate the food slowly as I reread the passage on dragons, trying to squeeze every ounce of knowledge from the text. Dragons were among the most dangerous of creatures, the book cautioned, in part due to their sheer size, monstrous strength and beastly talons; a dragon egg stood as tall as a man and was hard as granite, laying dormant until the blood of a fresh kill soaked its shell. The book was vague on what exactly was meant by “fresh kill,” so that left it to my imagination…and if the dragon was Malravenar’s creature, I had no doubt the blood would have been from Sidhe or Northfolk. I shuddered.

“You haven’t turned the page for nigh on an hour,” Calliea said from her customary seat by the fire, her blades laid neatly on a cloth for sharpening yet again.

“It’s the part about dragons,” I answered. Calliea’s question broke my concentration and my eyes ached sharply. I blinked and stretched, wincing as my ribs protested, sore from being hit with Vell’s power. “Or rather, the greater dragons.”

“Does it change each time you read it?” Calliea asked with a raised eyebrow.

I snapped the book shut and slid it onto the bedside table. “No. I just wanted to make sure I understood everything. I have some questions.”

“Such as…?”