Hels's Gauntlet [Forbidden Legacy 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (19 page)

Helcyon envied the speed and ease at which Jacob adapted to the changing circumstance. But if he knew the Danae, it would be hours, not weeks. The pure gold of her eyes betrayed Cassandra’s power and her fertility. The Queen knew what she sought in her offspring and wouldn’t have to look hard to find it.

“Soon. Too soon.” He wasn’t ready yet. His powers woke, but they were still finite and his concern for Cassandra and their unborn child a wild distraction. The tension amongst the Wizards could leave them divided at a critical juncture.

Kyrian.

“Jude’s on his way to see Vanagan and our purple-haired prisoner.” Jacob walked back to the bar and poured himself another drink. “And before either of you fly off the handle, the kid was right. It’s his call. We trust him to guard Cassie. We can trust him to look after himself. Until we know otherwise, I’m going to suggest we let them handle the prisoner and their father. I’m not borrowing trouble, Hels, but we have our own issues and what we have right here has to come first.”

“Agreed.” Helcyon didn’t look up. The wave of surprise that jerked through Jacob translated clearly through the bond.

Cassandra threaded her fingers together, her troubled expression focused on them. “He will be fine. He decided to stay before we left, regardless.”

“Yeah?” Another note of surprise echoed in Jacob’s words. “He didn’t say anything.”

“That wasn’t because of me, was it?” Her question made her sound smaller somehow, self-doubt bumping the words. In the chair, bare feet pointing at each other and shoulders slumped, she looked so young, too vulnerable to the wily and corrupt ways of the world.

“No, m’lady. You were not successful in your attempt. We stopped the words and the intent by forcing you to sleep. I know you do not believe it at the moment, but I am sorry if that hurt you.”

“We both are.” Jacob piled onto his apology. “We just knew what would hurt you worse.”

“You were right. I feel like my skin is going to itch right off my body, everything is so mixed up inside. Some facts are crystal clear. I know I love you both. No question, not even a single doubt, but the rest—it’s like something jumbled up my insides and didn’t put everything right again.”

“Are you sick?”

Dread curled around the worry in Helcyon’s gut. He focused his attention on Cassandra, looking at her with magical and non-magical eyes. Her aura, the rich golden stream of it threaded with blue and green glowed steadily. Yet even as he watched, it flickered, the color dimmed and brightened at the oddest intervals.

He searched for any sign of tampering, tripped spells, or traps. Jacob nudged him aside and knelt in front of her. Through both, Helcyon felt their hands clasp. They might be determined to keep him out on some level as they struggled with the full comprehension of the bond, but he experienced no such reservations.

Particularly not if something was wrong.

“Did Kramer touch you?” Brisk professionalism failed to veil the concern in Jacob’s posture or voice.

“No. At least, I don’t think he did.” She frowned, canting her head sideways. “But even if he did, I was feeling this way earlier. I’ve been unsettled for days. It’s just the feeling is getting worse.”

“When did this begin?” Helcyon pushed deeper, looking at her psyche and trying to remain objective. The world tinged with gold, love, and welcome as he slipped into her mind. It seemed much as it always did, a riot of color, emotion, and focus. Utterly Cassandra. Through her, the sense of Jacob echoed. The Wizard’s bond with her was as strong as his own.

“Three—maybe four days ago? Right after you both left for your respective missions. I thought I was just missing you. But I am angry for no reason, exhausted more than usual, and every time I think I have my emotions under control, it all seems to spin out of control.”

“Maybe we should call the Brownie.” Jacob didn’t make it sound like a suggestion. “You were tired when I came home, sweetheart, starved for energy because we’d been gone so long. Is that it? Are you exhausted now?”

The destruction of their fight earlier, particularly after they forcibly drained her, should have left her in a deep sound sleep. Yet it hadn’t.
Was it possible…?

“Is what possible?” Jacob stared up at him. “And I’ve already made a note of the bedroom blasting. You two can explain that later.”

“Cassandra’s been changing. We know her Fae blood is strong. We know she draws magic from both of us. We also know that she returns it, stronger than she pulled it away. Is it possible she is finally generating her own magic? Has it kindled within her?” The thought bore consideration. Cassandra’s great-grandmother was a changeling, a child born of a Fae mother and a human father—a liaison forbidden by their laws because changeling offspring were dangerous to the Underhill.

The Underhill existed parallel to this world and filtered the magic, replenishing it, much like underground springs processed the rain and returned it to the rivers and lakes. But changelings absorbed magic, drawing it into themselves and leaving little behind in their wake. A changeling Underhill for too long could destroy it.

Four generations removed from her changeling grandparent, with human, Fae, and Wizard blood running through her veins, Cassandra was different. She could still shatter spells, drawing out their magic, or unraveling it, but she also spilled magic back to those around them.

She’d been Underhill many times, though the first crossings…

“She was sick.” Jacob stared at him steadily, following his thoughts. In this, the bond was extremely useful. “So maybe Underhill kindled something in her and it’s been changing her slowly ever since. Not implausible, but not enough to really explain this either.”

“But I haven’t been sick on a journey in months, not since we joined, or whatever we did.” It seemed the frowns extended. “How the hell are we supposed to figure this out? Everything seems to be happening for the first time or completely different from how it has ever happened. I haven’t been to Underhill at all except when Helcyon’s used it to take me to meetings since we got together.”

Helcyon straightened. The Danae insisted that he bring Cassandra to see her. He dismissed her sense of urgency to politics and plans, but what if she held in reserve Cassandra’s need for the Underhill. That need could act as a string by which the Queen could force Cassandra to her bidding.

“We will answer the question in two ways. We will take you Underhill to Leitha. She can examine you and you can be Underhill for a time, and perhaps that shall satisfy whatever craving your body seeks.”

“I thought Kyrian found you in the Brownie village.” Jacob hated the idea.

“He did, and it’s a risk. Unfortunately, there are no truly safe places Underhill. It is only a matter of time before someone reveals to the Danae that Cassandra is present if she doesn’t figure it out on her own. The Brownies, Leitha in particular, are loyal. They may not play politics or war, but do not discount them if pushed. Not even the Danae tries to bully them.”

They could protect her. Unless…

“No. No ‘unless.’” Jacob straightened, the gray fatigue fading beneath his determination. “We can protect her. If she needs Underhill, she gets Underhill and to hell with the rest of them if they get in the way.”

“Guys.” Cassandra held tight to Jacob’s hand and stretched out her free hand to Helcyon. “Maybe I don’t need to go. Didn’t we just travel via Underhill and home?”

“Not for any significant time. You need to see Leitha, regardless. We drained you to make you sleep, not to injure you.” He would never forgive himself if this were the case. Capturing her cool fingers in his, he bowed down and pressed a gentle kiss to the knuckles. The earlier argument faded under the snapping breeze of worry.

“Do you need any weapons Jacob?”

“Like I can take a gun Underhill.”

“More’s the pity.” Helcyon would have sooner cut off his own arm than take a gun to their last refuge, not when the iron could damage the fabric of magic, but this was their Cassandra. He would allow no quarter in her protection.

Together, they helped her to her feet. Adjusting so that Cassandra held his left arm, he summoned his sword and glanced at Jacob. “I will go first. Once through, stay with Cassandra. No matter what happens.”

“One step at a time, lord maudlin and martyr.” The sardonic note echoed as they stepped through the passage. It took but a thought for Helcyon to create them now. He no longer required the Danae’s protection or charms to find the safe routes she established in the maze of pathways in and out of the Underhill.

They stepped from the solarium into the wintry sun warming the Brownie village. It might be nighttime in the human world, but Underhill moved to its own clock. Harvest season lasted longer here than above. Considering the arduous task of growing things in the rocky, stubborn soil, it was a miracle that they managed to grow anything at all.

Leitha sat in front of her thatched-roof hut, a pipe propped between her teeth. “I wondered how long it would take you to extend my invitation to your Lady, my lord.”

“We would never wish to impose, Leitha. But Cassandra feels unwell and we worried that it was her need for Underhill.” Saying it aloud sounded ignorant and untutored. Helcyon’s gaze swept the landscape, but save for the occasional Brownie going about its task, no danger appeared.

“I invited your Lady myself, Lord Helcyon. It will never be an imposition.” Leitha rose from her step and her furred face wrinkled kindly as she looked over Cassandra. “Come inside and let’s see what is making the foolish men so tense.”

Jacob stiffened at the insult, but Helcyon shook his head.
It is her way to comfort Cassandra.

If you say so, but then I’m just one of the foolish men.

His mouth twitched with a hint of a smile and Jacob hustled after Cassandra, but Leitha shooed him back out. The door closed on them both.

“Well, now what?” Jacob shifted so that he could keep one eye on the cottage and one eye on the village edge.

“We wait.” The back of Helcyon’s neck tingled.

It wouldn’t be long.

In the distance, a hound bayed and a bridle jingled.

“Is something wrong with the baby?” Cassie demanded the moment Leitha closed the door. The Brownie wrinkled her Teddy Ruxpin face and gestured to the chair near the fire.

“Sit, my lady. I am certain nothing is wrong with your pregnancy. Were Lord Helcyon not so distracted by other, he would have seen that your aura shows no distress.” The kind words allayed the fear gnawing up her insides, but it didn’t explain the agitation.

Her agitation worsened in the scant moments since they arrived Underhill. Cassie didn’t want to sit in the chair, but she forced herself to anyway. “What’s wrong with me, then?”

Leitha moved sedately around the room collecting cups and a jar of herbs. She took her time, as though considering her answer as she measured out the herbs into the cups. “You’re pregnant, m’lady.”

“I know that.” Cassie scowled. “But what’s ‘wrong’ with me?”

The Brownie shifted her attention from the cups to pad on her furred feet over to the fire. She lifted out a tea kettle and added steaming water to each of the cups. Eucalyptus, rosemary, and mint rose along with the water vapor. Cassie’s stomach rumbled, and she bit back a sharper question as the Brownie mulled her thoughts. Pushing Leitha would be a mistake, but she wanted snappier answers.

“Nothing is ‘wrong’ with you, my lady. You are exhausted, extending yourself too much, and growing babies in your belly. It tends to be more taxing than most realize, particularly on the Fae.” Leitha set the kettle down and stirred the contents of the cups slowly.

Babies?

Cassie choked. “I’m sorry, what?”

Leitha set the spoon aside and carried the cups of tea over, shuffling around the plentiful clutter in the warm, lived-in little cottage. It should seem dark and dank with the windows shuttered, but the herbs growing along the earthen walls, coupled with the rich colors scattered about, gave it a homey feeling.

She took the cup Leitha pressed into her fingers, not even noticing the brush of fur to skin anymore.

“Pregnancy is taxing on the body, the mind, the emotions, and in the case of the Fae, the magic. You are pregnant. That is what is wrong with you. Now drink your tea and try to relax. Too much stress is not good for your wee ones.”

Ones. Multiple. She said ones.

Cassie didn’t drink the tea. “I got that part. You said ‘babies.’”

“I did.” Leitha leaned back in her chair, her glossy black nose twitching as she sipped her tea. “You did not think that with one child you would show so dramatically this early in your pregnancy, did you?”

“I’ve never been pregnant before.”
Babies. Did she really just say babies? As in multiples?
“How many? And how do you know?”

The Brownie rose with her teacup and walked over to a cupboard. She pulled out a small box and carried it over. Opening it, she pulled out a cookie and pressed it into Cassie’s free hand. “Eat that with your tea. Both should help settle your nerves. You should not go so long without eating.”

That was so not an answer. Irritation flared up, and she fought the urge to glare at the Brownie. She was a guest in her home. The Brownies were very particular about their laws where guests were concerned. That she’d invited Cassie to begin with spoke volumes, but Leitha was also nice. Cassie didn’t want to offend her.