Bound to the Elvin King (18 page)

The advisor bowed his head. “It would be my pleasure.”

Avrin’s slight smile told Talion he was delighted to be up to his armpits in a covert operation. He’d never change. Talion resisted the urge to shake his head. But who better to head up their true committee than a person well versed in intrigue?

Talion nodded. “Very good. I’ll call a council once the committee has found something of importance. I’m sure I don’t need to say everything we’ve discussed should stay in this room.” He waited for the murmurs of assent to die away. “If there are no other pressing concerns, you are dismissed.” So the
real
meeting could begin.

Mecebrin, damn him, cleared his throat. Talion heaved a silent sigh. The need for diplomacy never ended. “Yes, Mecebrin, what is it?”

The councilman sent a nervous glance to Baltor, who managed an exasperated nod. So, Baltor was putting him up to this? Interesting, but not surprising. Mecebrin didn’t have two original thoughts to rub together.

“Some people aren’t happy about Prince Relian’s human woman.”

Wariness crept over Talion. He straightened out of his relaxed sprawl. “You mean the Princess Calantha?” His voice reverberated around the now quiet room with deadly precision.

“Ah, um, y…yes.”

“Then refer to her as such.”

Mecebrin’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Yes, Majesty.”

“Now, what is this about complaints?”

“Just rumors heard among the people.”

“Rumors can be insidious.” Talion shook his head. Did Mecebrin not realize the possible danger? “They can’t always be ignored, lest more discontent surface. But when you say “people,” it’s such an ambiguous, broad term. Please narrow it down.”

“The gentry are particularly vocal.”

A seed of worry sprouted in Talion’s mind. Though he hadn’t expected every one of them to approve, this news was troubling—if true, or at least, not overly exaggerated. “The landholders no longer support the bond?”

The councilor’s gaze darted from side to side before landing on Baltor, who gave him a frown. Mecebrin slowly turned back at Talion. “Some don’t.”

Talion linked his fingers and rested them in front of his chin, eying Mecebrin over them. His calm stance belied his thumping heart. Millennia of ruling taught him how to have an impassive mask in place during times of stress, and he’d never appreciated the fact more than now. “Define some.”

“Well, a few.”

“A few?” How many was that? Though tension roiled in his stomach, he merely shot a brow up. “That’s it?”

“It’s all I know of at the moment.” Mecebrin shrugged hopelessly, his gaze again flicking briefly over to Baltor.

What kind of answer was that? Talion tamped down on the urge to roll his eyes. Could the fool make it any more obvious he couldn’t take a breath without Baltor’s approval? This kind of blind obedience to anyone but him was troubling. Fortunately, Mecebrin wasn’t adept enough to hide where his true devotions lay. And they weren’t with Talion. Or the kingdom.

“Whom does this
few
consist of? And what do they say?”

“Aaeson and Morsen have voiced discontent. They say another heir should be named—one who can produce a pure-blooded elf.”

“Oh, do they?” Talion kept his voice even, but inside, he was boiling. Aaeson didn’t hold much clout, but Morsen did. What was worse, he’d always considered Morson an ardent supporter. Now, doubt flooded him, and he didn’t know truth from lie. “The only other blood relative I have is banished. Even if he were alive, he’d still be a traitor. Have the naysayers considered this?”

Mecebrin’s mouth opened and closed. “Well, I…um.”

Baltor’s tenor smoothly interjected itself into the conversation. “He was banished for trying to injure the princess, so to them he’s no traitor. But most have no wish to see the direct line of succession taken from your immediate family.”

Alarm flooded every nerve. He didn’t like where this was going. “Relian cannot remarry. He has a complete bond. It cannot be undone.”

“He can keep his human. The suggestion has been put forth that you bond again.”

Fury exploded within Talion’s veins, and he slowly stood up, his fists clenched. Nearly everyone gawked at the action. Let them. Not only was Relian’s position threatened, but also Maggie’s and his own. But no one knew of their bond yet. Or did they? All the different possibilities swirled in his mind like a whirlpool tugging him under.

He raked a scornful gaze over the assembled crowd. “Just because my son is elsewhere at the moment doesn’t mean you can malign him and his wife.” The barely leashed rage in his voice rumbled like thunder.

“I need no more heirs.” Even though fire sped through him, the image of a little boy and girl with Maggie’s spirit floated before him. He almost gasped. His heart threatened to burst from the intensity of the moment, but with a deep and steadying breath, he ruthlessly knocked the image aside. Children with Maggie would be a bonus. However, now wasn’t the time for such reflections, not with their future in jeopardy.

“I won’t bond to appease the court. The succession will remain with Relian. Anyone who doesn’t like this is free to leave.”

No one uttered a sound, not even Mecebrin or Baltor. Why would they? Talion felt a moment of satisfaction. His kingdom was the most prosperous and peaceful in the fae world. Not many would like what was outside of their borders.

“This matter is closed.” But as he said those words, he knew it wasn’t. The council members’ whispers broke the silence that had pervaded the room. By evening, news of his ultimatum would be rife throughout the palace and town. More whispers, good or bad, would spread until they encompassed his whole kingdom. He could command his council members to silence, but knew it would do no good. A traitor would make sure the right ears heard of what transpired.

If his fears were true, the spies in his court were funneling information to the enemy. Even though he was almost certain who the guilty party was, he couldn’t order them taken into custody without evidence. He didn’t rule that way. Unfortunately. In times like this, he wished he were more the dictator.

He closed his eyes as if doing so would stop the flood of rumors. The darkindred would surely try to use this to their advantage by sowing discord wherever they could. The magic that protected and separated the fey world from the human one would take a further plummet. The veil was already fragile. Could it experience another hit without tearing irreparably?

This all amounted to a monumental problem he had to handle with extreme care. He glanced over at Avrin and Kenhel. Both met his gaze unflinchingly, and support shone from their eyes. Talion took a gulp of air to calm the uproar in his body. They’d see a special force put together, far away from the prying eyes of the rest of the council. Now that he had a plan of action, his anger lowered to a slow simmer.

Anyone who hurt his family—specifically the two human women—would regret it. He and Relian could protect themselves. They couldn’t.

With a flick of his hand, he dismissed the council members. Many glanced at him uneasily before leaving. The one he had the greatest concerns about, though, didn’t even send a glance his way. Baltor merely bowed in his direction and strode toward the exit. Talion ground his teeth. He and that one were going to clash—and soon.

Avrin and Kenhel loitered around until everyone had vacated the room. He lost no time in telling them what he wanted as he paced the floor. “I want informants sent to Morsen and Aaeson’s landholdings. Make sure they’re the best—of the most trust-worthy caliber, with a subtlety that will allow them to go unnoticed.”

Kenhel nodded. “Both I and Avrin have men that will do.”

“Good. We also need to form a taskforce outside the council. We don’t know what snakes we harbor there. I won’t have Relian’s position or happiness threatened. Or mine.”

Avrin tapped his bottom lip. “Who do you see being on this force?”

“You, Kenhel, Relian, Sardon, the informants, and of course, me. We can add more members as we see fit.”

“May I suggest Alegrian, the scribe?” asked Avrin. “He’s young but infinitely loyal to you. He could be the eyes and ears around the palace. Not many would think to be quiet around him. He’s unassuming.”

Talion smiled slowly. “I think he could be just what we need.” His grin faded. “How serious do you think this threat is?”

Avrin’s solemn brown gaze looked back at him. “Until we know more, that’s a hard question to assess.”

“That was my thinking.” He raked his fingers though his hair, something he only did when he was really agitated. He grimaced and removed his hand. “We need information as soon as possible.”

Avrin laid a hand on his shoulder. “You will have it, my friend, even if I have to get it myself.”

That heartened Talion. If anyone could extract information from a person, it was Avrin. He had many talents that were largely unknown—a definite boon for Talion.

A wave of pain and bone-deep exhaustion hit him. He swayed on his feet, and grabbed onto the thing nearest him—Kenhel.

Avrin and Kenhel placed steadying arms about him. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Just a bit tired.” That was an understatement. All the emotions of the last hour had taken what little energy he had left.

Kenhel gave him a doubtful look. “You don’t look fine.”

“No, he doesn’t,” said Avrin. “Is there something you’d like to share?”

Talion glared at his friends. “I think not.”

Some part of him wanted to confide in them, but his promise to Maggie stopped him. In truth, he dreaded their possible reaction to the news, though he was most concerned about Relian’s. He knew they all liked Maggie. But as the wife of their king? For Avrin, she’d be taking the position his sister used to claim. As for Relian, she’d be his stepmother—one who happened to be thousands of years younger.

While he knew they would publicly accept her, that didn’t mean they would do so privately. Maggie wasn’t as tough as she appeared, and such a rejection would definitely wound her.

A realization socked him in the gut. If his friends and family couldn’t fully support them, how could he expect his people to do so?

***

Maggie glowered at the guitar she strummed. When she’d found one of the music rooms in the palace, she’d thought she’d hit a gold mine. The acoustics were great, not that it mattered with this headache from hell. She tilted her head back and rolled it around, trying to find relief for her tight neck and shoulders. Damn it. Nothing helped. Not even the oh-so-calming silver color of the walls could settle her down.

So much for music helping her relax. Exhaustion dogged her every moment. But sleep fled whenever she closed her eyes. Only
he
remained. He’d jackhammered his way into every crevice of her mind. Ha, maybe that was really the cause of her headache.

Now, she had Talion’s countdown to worry about. In only two months’ time, everyone would know. The ticking of that bomb buried its way deep into her heart. Every movement of the secondhand brought her closer to the doom awaiting her.

Pain lanced through her head and chest. She clutched at both areas, the instrument resting abandoned on her lap. Damn, she needed a dose of Talion. Only stubbornness kept her glued to the chair.

She rubbed at the dual ache with weary hands. How was she going to get out of this mess? No matter which direction she envisioned, Talion invariably waited at the end. Sometimes, it was a proposition that caused her heart to pitter-patter with excitement. At other times her heart froze in terror. If there was one thing she hated, it was a loss of control. And with Talion, this seemed to be the status quo of her life.

If only she could tell Cal, but the fewer people who knew, the better. Plus, how could Cal help her beyond giving a sympathetic ear? No, this was her problem, and she’d be the one to solve it.

But did she want to solve it? Resolve pumped away the uncertainty, and she sat straight in her chair. Of course, she wanted it to end. She didn’t need anyone in her life other than her friends. They filled any void that could possibly arise. And physical needs were easy to take care of by herself or with any number of eager partners. But the thought curdled her stomach. Other hands touching…caressing…her where
his
had been. Bile rose in her throat.

She buried her face in her hands. God, what was wrong with her? She was frigging nuts. When had she turned into such a prude? The answer lit like fireworks going off in her mind. Talion.

He’d messed everything up. Being reliant upon anyone was a bad idea. She’d seen this first hand with her parents. Such dysfunction shouldn’t be repeated, and she had no reason to believe she’d act any different than her parents had. After all, she was a lethal mixture of the two, as they’d told her
many
times.

Maggie ground her teeth. Screw them, and screw Talion—and everyone who tried to control and manipulate her. She didn’t need their crap.

The door to the music room crashed open, the boom reverberating off the walls, and Maggie’s head shot up. All anger evaporated, and her mind fell into a fog that narrowed down to one person. Talion. Disheveled. Fierce. He froze inside the doorway, his eyes devouring every inch of skin left exposed by her gown.