Copper Ravens (23 page)

“I understand that I love you, and I will rip to pieces anyone who stands between us,” I said softly. “More than anything, Micah, I am yours.”

He kissed me then, with far more passion than I imagined was normally seen in the Gold Queen's courtyard. After a few more moments of calm happiness, I said the other terrible thing that was on my mind.

“Micah, there's no one of copper here.”

His arms tensed around me. “I know.”

We didn't discuss it further, being that if Oriana, or someone close to her, really was ordering others of copper to stay clear of the Corbeaus, her courtyard during a gala event wasn't really the ideal place to examine her motivations. Micah kissed me once more, then we returned to the hall stuffed full of non-copper Elementals. Instantly my eyes landed on Old Stoney, who was hitting on my sister.

“Sadie!” I exclaimed, having crossed the floor in record time. Maybe copper shoes are made for speed. “I've been looking for you!” I plastered a giant grin across my face, alternately staring at her and Stoney.

“Have you?” Sadie countered, her irritation at being abandoned plain. “Grey here has been nice enough to keep me company while you two were wandering off.”

“Grey? Oh, yes. He knew Ferra, you know.” Old Stoney's face went stone cold, pardon the pun. I found that I liked irritating him, so I babbled on, “Yes, they were great friends. Allies, even. Do you know our father, Grey? A copper man by the name of Baudoin Corbeau?”

Old Stoney responded by trying to eviscerate me with his eyes. When that failed, he offered Sadie a shallow bow. “Good evening,” he muttered, then he stalked off to other rocky sorts.

“Do you think he knows what happened to Dad?” Sadie whispered.

“Very little about him would surprise me,” Micah replied, joining the two of us. “He is a devious man, loyal to no one. Ah,” he said, nodding toward the dais, “our queen has arrived.”

I followed Micah's gaze, and indeed Oriana was ascending the dais to her throne, looking like nothing so much as a fairy-tale queen. I remembered that cold morning three months past when she was hauled out of the oubliette; she'd been shrouded in darkness for so long she had been practically blind and had snapped and clawed at her rescuers like a feral beast. Since the gold had been stripped from her body after her capture, restoring her element was crucial to her recovery, physically as well as mentally. To my horror, the newly-free Oriana had been immediately bound immobile with golden chains and a cairn of gold built above her.

At first, I'd thought such actions foolish. How could a heap of metal cure one's crazed state, and wouldn't she suffocate? Well, cure her it had, as was well evidenced by the graceful being before me. Oriana's golden hair was loose, cascading down her back in heavy waves, her blue eyes reflecting the same sun-colored hue. Her arms and shoulders were bare, showcasing her mark from her golden fingers to the spiraling tendrils that glinted on her shoulders. Of course, Oriana wore her element in her clothing, her choice being a golden breastplate over a deep crimson skirt.

“She's so beautiful,” Sadie murmured. “I used to think Mom was of gold, what with her hair.”

“Me too.” I squeezed Sadie's hand, and Micah escorted the two of us as we navigated amongst the other Elementals. It was quite the daunting task, since everyone wanted to make the Metal Inheritor's acquaintance, toast her good health, and offer her their assistance in whatever tasks she might need. Imagine their surprise when all she asked for was donations to her nascent library.

Those who weren't immediately enamored with Sadie desired a few moments of Micah's time, inquiring about matters of silver politics that I hadn't even been aware of. Apparently, the Whispering Dell was one of the richest communities in the Otherworld, due in no small part to Micah's management of the land and its resources. I'd known that Micah was wealthy, but I'd never appreciated just how wealthy, or that Micah was what we in the Mundane world would call a shrewd businessman. While Micah talked shop, and Sadie talked books, I stood there with a smile on my face and tried to stay out of the way.

After an endless barrage of politics and well-wishers, and my cheeks aching from holding on to my false smile, an excited murmur rolled across the hall. Naturally, all eyes turned toward the queen. Upon the dais, Oriana rose from her throne, her golden breastplate melting away. With a flick of her wrists, her golden nails elongated and became ten wickedly sharp blades. Another flick, and she slashed herself above her heart. Sadie gasped and grabbed my hand while I tried to retain enough composure for both of us.

“What's going on?” I asked Micah.

“It is time to pledge ourselves to our queen,” he replied, loosening his shirt to expose his chest. I watched those closest to Oriana and discerned what sort of a pledge this was. Each supplicant approached the queen, also with a bared breast, and those golden nails slashed above the supplicant's heart. Oriana touched her own breast, then her subject's, thereby creating a blood bond with her people. As far as Otherworldly ceremonies went, this was a piece of cake.

“I can't do it,” Sadie said.

“It'll only be a minute,” I soothed. “No one's going to see you.”

“It's not that,” she said, taking a step backward. “The blood…all that blood.”

“Sadie.” She looked at me, her brown eyes full of irrational fear. “You must. You're the Inheritor.”

“I won't,” she whispered, though it was still loud enough for all those nearby to hear.

“What's the matter?” growled Old Stoney. He had fully opened his robe, showing off his gigantic stone member as it knocked against his thigh. “Afraid we won't keep our hands to ourselves?”

“Speak to my consort, or her sister, in such a way again,” Micah said, putting himself between the moronic boulder and us, “and I
shall
take issue.” While Old Stoney was still too incensed to reply, Micah turned to Sadie and me.

“Sadie, stand between Sara and me,” he instructed. “We shall pledge our queen as one.”

Sadie insisted that she couldn't do it, but Micah was unrelenting and practically dragged her through the throng of Elementals. The crowd parted for the three of us, murmuring of the implications of the Silver Lord and Metal Inheritor approaching the queen together. We were doing well, walking with our heads held high and not noticeably dragging Sadie, until we stood at the foot of the dais. At the sight of Oriana's naked blood-smeared breasts, Sadie squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face against Micah's shoulder. Only his arm about her waist kept her from running. Micah and I shared a look, then we locked hands behind Sadie's back and hauled her up the steps.

“This…this child, she is the Inheritor of Metal?” Oriana inquired, taking in the sight of the three of us as we knelt before her. Sadie was curled against Micah's side, protecting her breast as if Oriana sought her heart, not a few drops of blood.

“Forgive her, my queen,” Micah murmured. “She is young yet, new to our world and not accustomed to our ways. My consort and I will pledge ourselves now, of course.”

At that, I lowered my bodice and allowed Oriana to cut me between my breasts, much as Oriana had done to herself. She performed the movements of creating the blood bond like an automaton, first to me, and then to Micah, devoid of all emotion or comprehension. Where was the vibrant if unstable woman I'd lunched with? Where was the inappropriate touching, the insane commentary? I ventured a glance directly at her eyes and saw that they were clouded, lacking their typical warm glow.

Had someone drugged her?
Before I could alert Micah to my suspicions, Oriana cast a wary glance at the throngs waiting to bleed for her and visibly swallowed. She wasn't drugged, far from it. She was terrified.

My righteous indignation flowed away, replaced by no small amount of pity. “Perhaps, if it so pleases you, my sister may pledge herself to you once she is recovered?” I ventured. Stiffly, Oriana turned to regard me, her head cocked to the side in one of her odd, birdlike mannerisms.

“Yes. That would please me.” Oriana reached toward my trembling sister, first resting her golden fingers on Sadie's chin, then trailing them down her neck and breast, leaving a violent red ribbon in their wake. “I only hope it won't be too late.”

I nodded, both appreciating that Oriana had given us a warning and terrified that she'd felt the need to do so. One thing was certain—I needed to convince Sadie to play nice with the rest of the Elementals, and the sooner the better.

20

A
fter the near-debacle of Sadie's outright refusal to swear fealty to the queen, we left the Golden Court as soon as we could shove our way out the door. Due to Sadie's position sandwiched between Micah and me, it seemed that no one, save the three of us and the Gold Queen herself, had realized that the Inheritor of Metal hadn't completed her oath to serve Oriana, probably because the queen's bloodied fingers had left a noticeable red stain on Sadie's neck and breast. At least, no one had made mention of any lack of pledging on Sadie's part within our hearing.

Instead of levying accusations of indifference or worse, treason, as the three of us descended from the dais we were pelted with comments and well-wishes, along with invitations to dinners and dances and all sorts of glorious rendezvous. Well, Micah and Sadie were pelted; I might as well have been carrying the bags.

“It was like no one even saw me,” I grumbled. Once we'd returned to the manor, Sadie had gone off to boil herself in a bath, while Micah and I removed our formal attire and washed up in a much calmer fashion. Since we'd left directly after the pledging ceremony, it wasn't even time for dinner, and Micah had promised me another lesson in swordplay before nightfall. “And where were the others of copper?”

“We left quite early; perhaps they arrived afterward,” Micah murmured. He paused to dab a bit of ointment on the cut above my heart. “And, love, when an invitation is extended to me, it is naturally assumed that my consort shall accompany me.”

“Assumed.” You know what happens when…I shook my head, unwilling to explain why that was such a bad idea. I pulled on a T-shirt and sat on the bed in order to tie my shoes. “So, I'm expected to just follow you everywhere? Because that's what consorts do?”

“If you do not wish to attend a particular event, you may remain in the Dell,” Micah replied. “No one is forcing you to attend any functions, Sara.”

I don't know what was more irritating—Micah's blasé attitude or the fact that I really did want to go to at least some of the parties. I just wanted to be more than arm candy. “If I was your wife I bet I'd get my own invitations,” I pouted.

“Most likely,” Micah agreed, “but that has not happened yet.” Oh, yeah? I'll make it happen. I stood and grabbed the coverlet, shoving half of it into my shirt.

“See?” I turned to the side, showcasing my falsely burgeoning belly. “Wife here. Now people will pay attention to me, too.”

“This,” Micah murmured, stepping forward, “is unnecessary.” He withdrew the wadded-up coverlet, then smoothed down my shirt. “Soon enough, your belly will swell.”

“Micah.” I grabbed his hand, but I couldn't manage to say anything further. When he spied a certain blue glass bottle on my dressing table, it turned out that I didn't have to.

“Is this something new?” he asked, picking up the unfamiliar bauble, his eyes widening as he read the label. “Sara, where did this come from?”

“I bought it. In the village.” I dropped my eyes; even though I hadn't done anything wrong—hell, I hadn't even uncorked it yet—it felt like the bottle's very presence was a betrayal.

“Have you taken any?” he asked quickly.

“No.” He blew out a relieved breath, and I tried not to wince.

“Sara, my Sara,” Micah murmured, gathering me into his arms. “Please, love, you must be more careful. Whoever sold this to you did not explain its true purpose.”

Micah—trusting, genuine Micah—assumed that I'd bought the extract because it smelled nice, or because the bottle's color was pretty. “I know what it's for.”

“Sara—”

“I don't want a baby,” I said in a rush. At that his entire body drooped, and I regretted my words. No, no I didn't; the truth is better. More painful, but better. At least, that's what they say.

Who are
they
, anyway?

“Not ever?” Micah asked softly, his hand cupping the nape of my neck. I felt the disappointment in his voice; truly, Micah's strongest, most heartfelt desire was for an heir.

“I…Micah, I'm so young. And we really haven't really known each other for very long. And—” He turned up my chin, and I met those silver eyes. “Not never, but not now. Not for a long time, probably.” Micah sighed and leaned his forehead against mine. “I'll go. We'll all get out of your hair—”

“My hair?”

Right. “My family. We won't trouble you anymore.”

“Sara, you do not trouble me,” he murmured. “Max is troubling, yes, and your mother may yet be the death of me. But you,” he threaded his fingers through my hair, his eyes searching mine, “the only trouble you give me is when we're apart, and I can't see to the tasks before me.”

“Why can't you?”

“Because I can't stop thinking about you.”

“Oh.” When we were apart I thought about him constantly, too—what he could be doing, if he would laugh at this or that, when he would be home. When he would hold me again. Max and Sadie both thought that our closeness was unusual, unhealthy even, but I didn't. To me, nothing had ever felt so right as being with Micah. “But if you can't have an heir…”

I couldn't finish, not while he was staring at me like that. I'd had this conversation in my head a hundred—no, a thousand—times, and I knew exactly how it ended—me leaving the manor, off to fend for myself in the Mundane world. Oh, wait, I couldn't go back there, so I guessed I would just be homeless here in the Otherworld.