Blade Dance (A Cold Iron Novel Book 4) (13 page)

“No,” said Garrett. Ann could hear the anger and frustration in his voice.

“That’s because you’ve been looking for a simple Druid, and he’s nothing of the kind.”

“Again, what is he, then?” asked Garrett sharply.

“What he is, is my business,” said the Prince. “It’s enough for you to know that I can track the boy, if you have something of the Druid’s that I can use.”

“If he’s your Druid,” asked Ann, “why don’t you have something of his to track him with?”

“Because the creature was cunning. He planned his defection well. He took or destroyed everything he had ever had contact with.”

“Why do you want to find this Druid so badly?” asked Garrett.

“Because I have unfinished business with him.”

“What kind of business?” Finn asked.

“Does it matter? You’ve never had any interest in my projects, Finn MacUmhaill. Indifference has always been your defining characteristic. You were indifferent to the Court before the fall. Even indifferent to me fucking your wife. You have been indifferent to my plans to bring down the wall. Don’t change now. You won’t like the results.”

“My concern is the child,” said Finn. “We want him back.”

“Then give me whatever you have been using to scry for the Druid, and once I find my treacherous mage, you can have the child.”

“No,” said Finn. “Tell us where to find the Druid, and we will go rescue the child. Then you may do what you like with the Druid.”

The Prince shook his head. “That won’t work. This Druid has the voice. He can control you, and all the Fianna.”

“Garrett is unmarked,” said Finn. “And he can cast a silence.”

“But Garrett has no right hand to protect him while he casts, and this Druid is trained in magic and swordplay. He’d cut your son down before he could utter a complete sentence.”

“Why can’t Garrett go with you?” asked Ann. “Why couldn’t you defend him while he casts?”

“Clever girl,” said the Prince. “But no. I won’t take Garrett with me. I have private business to conduct with the Druid first.”

“Business you want to conduct in front of a seven-year-old boy?” she asked.

The bitter expression that flashed across the Prince’s face was gone so quickly that Ann thought she might have imagined it. “Needs must,” he said lightly.

“No,” said Finn flatly. “We’ve got no way to be sure you’ll really bring back the boy.”

“I would take a
geis
upon it,” said the Prince.

His words seemed to suck all the air out of the room. Finn and Garrett exchanged a look, at once wary and hopeful.

“A
geis
of our devising,” said Garrett.

“If you like,” said the Prince.

“It won’t work,” said Finn, shaking his head. “His skin won’t take ink. And a verbal promise isn’t strong enough for something this important.”

“No,” said Garrett. “But he could sign a blood oath. I don’t know how to create them myself, but Miach does.”

“Are you really prepared to climb into bed with Miach MacCecht,” asked the Prince, “over one half-blood child?”

“I don’t know,” said Finn.

“You can’t trust him,” said the Prince.

“I don’t,” said Finn. “But I trust you even less. And I’m not sure I want to give you the objects that are our only link to the child.”

The Prince shrugged. “Do as you like, but decide quickly. The Druid has unusual skills. He has learned to cover his tracks well. If he senses Garrett’s clumsy scrying, he will bolt again, and if the trail grows cold enough, we’ll never find him.”

“We’ll consider it,” said Finn.

The Prince inclined his head. “Sean knows how to reach me,” he said. Then he
passed
from the room.

Chapter 10

F
inn rounded on his son. “Before you say anything else, before we discuss the Prince, I want wards on this house. I want Ann and the Fianna under my roof safe from the Prince and especially from this Druid. If you won’t do it for me, do it for Ann.”

Garrett nodded. “I’ll do it now,” he said. “Then we’ll talk about how we can bind the Prince to his word.”

Finn sighed. “We should call Miach. Casting on the Prince is no small undertaking. And if it goes wrong, you won’t want to be alone in the path of his anger.”

“I’ll call him,” said Garrett, over his shoulder, “but you know what the price will be.”

Then at last Finn was alone with Ann. Somehow she looked both fierce and vulnerable with her fiery hair escaping the knot atop her head and the soft slouchy textures of her sweater and her velour pants.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That won’t happen again. Once Garrett wards the house, the Prince won’t be able to just
pass
in here.”

“What did Garrett mean, about Miach demanding a price?”

“It is one that I’m willing to pay, to get the boy back,” he said. “It is one, in truth, that I should have paid long ago. Ann, I hope to Dana that when all this is done you’ll give me a chance to woo you properly, because you make me see things more clearly than I have for decades. I thought I was losing my grip on the Fianna because I wasn’t being Fae enough, but the truth is that I have been violating my
geis
. That is why the Fianna are dwindling. I have not led them to a worthy place. I’ve made bad choices. I’m going to try to make better.”

“I haven’t seen you make any bad choices,” she said softly.

“No, you haven’t, because when I’m around you, I’m inspired to be a better man. But before I met you . . . I was ready to reconcile with Miach twenty years ago. It seemed like the right time. Garrett showed promise as a sorcerer, and sending your son to another Fae house for fostering, if his inclinations do not follow your own family’s, is a time-honored Fae practice. And for many years Garrett thrived there under Miach’s roof. I denied responsibility for what happened for a long time, but I see now that it was my fault. I raised Garrett to be like one of the Fianna, taught him by word and example to take what he wanted by right, especially if what he wanted was a human woman. He wanted Miach’s half-blood granddaughter, so he took her. Far, far too young. And when she got pregnant, they ran away, and Nieve nearly died delivering his child. I blamed Miach and I blamed Nieve and I blamed Garrett, but the truth is that everything that happened was my fault. And in my eagerness to escape responsibility, I drove my son and his wife away.”

“That doesn’t sound especially Fae, really,” she said. “It sounds all too human.”

“There is more. I want to tell you because I won’t hold up a false idol to you. I can love you, Ann. I am not the battered wreck Nancy McTeer portrayed me as, but I’m not an entirely good man, and I want you to know the whole truth before you come to my bed. If, that is, you still choose to.”

“Go on,” she said, eyes full of the kind of understanding he didn’t deserve.

“I caught a Druid last year. The one who used her voice to crack the foundation of my house. I was going to torture her, as revenge for my wife’s murder. I’m still angry. Even after two thousand years. I will probably always be angry. But I know now that I was wrong. The Druid was born two thousand years after Brigid died. She bore no responsibility for my grief. And she was the lover of Miach’s right hand. When I realized that I would get no satisfaction out of torturing her, I tried to use her life as a bargaining chip to convince him to become Garrett’s protector, but it was a fool’s dream.”

“Or a father’s,” said Ann. “I know what it’s like to be driven to protect. I’ve lived with the urge my whole life, suffered through my spells for it. I expect that being a parent is the same.”

“That’s the other thing you have to know, Ann. I might not be able to give you that, ever. A child. And if, by some miracle at my age, you did fall pregnant, it wouldn’t be easy on you. Fae children develop fast in the womb, and even Fae women sometimes fail to survive the birth. I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to have a human child. I might even prefer it, because it would be safer for you.”

“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” said Ann. “At the moment I’m responsible for thirty children every day. One of my own isn’t something I’ve really started to contemplate.”

“You would be an amazing mother,” he said, knowing it was true.

Her face fell. She forced a smile. “I didn’t have a very happy childhood. I’m not sure I would know how to provide one for someone else.”

“Happiness in childhood is overrated,” said Finn. “I gave Garrett everything he ever wanted but very little of what he needed. And the burden wouldn’t fall on you alone.”

“I’m still not sure I’m cut out for motherhood. My own parents didn’t set the best example.”

“Tell me about them.” He wanted to know everything about her.

“No. It might change how you feel about me,” she said.

“Nothing is going to change how I feel about you,” he said. “And I know I’m right about the kind of mother you would be. Your children would adore you.”

“Provided I didn’t go berserk every time they failed to pick up after themselves.”

“Your berserk skills, it is true, need some work.”

“I wish they were more use in finding Davin,” she said, changing the subject. “The Prince said that he was Sean’s brother. That would make him Davin’s uncle.”

“It would, but that doesn’t mean we can trust the Prince. Whatever he was once, suffering has changed him, as it has Sean, and not just at the hands of the Druids. No one has seen as much of the Queen’s cruelty as he has. There is no way to stand in the eye of such a storm and not be shaped by it.”

“You think he’s only interested in the Druid,” concluded Ann.

“I think he is hiding something, that the Druid has something or is doing something that he doesn’t want anyone else to know about. That’s why he wants to get to the Druid first.”

“Before you arrived, he asked me what Davin was like. I told him. And he said that Davin was his father’s son. The idea seemed to please him.”

“That could have pleased him for reasons we can’t begin to fathom, Ann. There’s no trusting the Prince Consort, under any circumstances.”

“Except,” she said, “that we don’t have any choice.”

A
nn joined Finn in the
dining room for the conference he called to discuss the Prince Consort’s offer. Iobáth was already there, standing guard in the doorway. Nancy McTeer was there as well, face streaked with mascara and eyes bright with tears. Sean stood behind her chair, staring daggers at everyone present. Garrett had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his feet propped on a chair. A small dark-haired woman sat beside him unpacking a cooler full of picnic items. Ann knew her. The girl was Nieve, Garrett’s wife, the mother of the little boy who had been in Ann’s second-grade classroom last year and whose constant absences had instigated her first meeting with Finn.

Garrett reached blindly for one of the foil packages that Nieve was setting out and fumbled it, his fingers clumsy, his grasp weak.

“Let me do it,” she said.

“You didn’t have to make me a four-course meal,” he said. “Mrs. Friary could have fixed me something.”

Nieve rolled her eyes. “Your father only needs a cook because no one loves him enough to make him even a slice of toast without being paid for it.”

Finn said nothing. And the man seated next to Nieve, who shared her dark good looks and was unmistakably Fae, just smirked.

Ann stood on tiptoe to whisper in Finn’s ear. “Even if I loved you more than life itself, I can’t cook like Mrs. Friary.”

“Her job is secure, then,” said the leader of the Fianna, slipping an arm around her waist.

The dark-haired man who bore such a close resemblance to Nieve stood up. “You should have called me sooner. Garrett’s going to be good for nothing for at least another hour.”

“I wasn’t certain you would come,” said Finn.

So this was Miach, the sorcerer from South Boston.

“I’m here, but whether or not I’m willing to help will depend on your terms.”

“Name them,” said Finn, leading Ann to a chair and holding it for her.

The gesture caused Miach’s eyebrows to rise fractionally and made Ann think that chivalry had not been Finn’s strong suit in the past.

Miach laid out his terms. “You will stop trying to drive a wedge between your son and my granddaughter. They are married, for good or for ill, and only they can dissolve their union.”

“Agreed,” said Finn.

Miach seemed surprised at his easy assent.

“You should know that Nieve is expecting another child. And you must agree that Nieve and Garrett are free to choose how and where he shall be raised.”

“She, possibly,” said Nieve.

“Dana help us,” said Miach. “I shall pray for a he. I’m not sure I would survive another girl.”

Nieve snorted, and before Garrett could say anything, she spooned soup in his mouth.

“Agreed,” said Finn.

Again, too easily for Miach’s liking, it was clear. “You must also swear that Elada and the stone singer Sorcha Kavanaugh are inviolate. That you will never again attempt to kill, maim, or imprison either one of them.”

“Done,” said Finn.

“And I want fifty percent of your take in Somerville.”

“What?” asked Finn, incredulous. “Do you have any idea how expensive it is to repair a cracked foundation?”

“A one-time expense,” said Miach dismissively. “Dwarfed by the cost of raising children in this city.”

“Twenty-five percent,” said Finn.

“Done,” said Miach. “Now tell me what the Prince is offering.”

“He swears he will find the Druid and bring back the child. We can’t scry the Druid ourselves. The Prince is right about that. Garrett wore himself out trying. There’s something different about this Druid. Fortunately, we aren’t entirely without leverage. We have an artifact of the Druid’s, of a sort. Ann took photos of his work, of the tattoos he drew on the child. The Prince vows he will use these to scry the Druid and deliver us the child, but we want to make his vow binding, or else we fear that he will find his Druid, take back his property, and abandon little Davin wherever he may be.”

“Why can’t you just make him accept a tattoo like one of yours?” Ann asked Finn. “Why can’t he take a
geis
to bring Davin back?”

“Because the Prince’s skin cannot be marked,” replied Finn. “Did you see what happened when he pulled my blade out of his hand?”

“You managed to get a knife into the Prince’s flesh?” asked Miach, obviously impressed.

“To be fair, he was distracted by Ann, and she can be very distracting indeed.” He rested a hand on her shoulder, threaded his fingers through her hair. Another public gesture, another proclamation of his protection and regard. She was falling for Finn hard, but if they didn’t find Davin, she couldn’t say what would become of them. In her heart of hearts, she knew she couldn’t love Finn if the boy died. Not because it would be his fault, but because that tragedy would always lie between them.

“And it was a small wound,” added Finn, modestly, which caused eyebrows around the table to rise. Modesty was clearly another quality he was not known for.

“It went all the way through his hand,” said Ann. “And there wasn’t any blood.”

“That is the Silver Skin,” said Miach. “It’s the Queen’s enchantment. She cast it on him long before the fall, and it is unbreakable. The Prince’s skin cannot be marked. His wounds close instantly, as soon as the blade is removed. He can be immobilized, I’m told, with a blade through the heart, but it won’t kill him. Conn of the Hundred Battles chopped off his arm and flung the bastard into the Otherworld, and he managed to come back and put his arm back on, as easy as slipping into a fresh shirt. His skin can’t hold a
geis
because it won’t hold ink or scars. But he could take a blood oath. We could draw enough with an iron knife for him to write his vow.”

“It would have to be worded perfectly,” said Garrett. “And he would have to speak and write it faithfully.”