One Thousand Kisses (39 page)

“I fixed that too.”

“Crap.” Milshadred’s perfect nose wrinkled. “That kind of sucks. You coulda left that old. I mean, not my beaver, just my eggs.”

“You wouldn’t have wanted that.” Ani decided not to tell her about the cancer she’d cured. The fairy was home now. If the Realm didn’t crumble around them, cancer wouldn’t be the death of her, but something else might. “Milshadred, listen to me. You don’t have to go after your brothers.”

“Oh, but I do.” Even Milshadred’s voice was beautiful, low and melodious. “Especially Mick. He’s the one that got us messed up with the AOC in the first place. Him and Skythia.”

“You have an opportunity to start over.” Who’d recognize Milshadred in her true form? Well, any healer. And anyone talented with DNA. And anyone who’d met her sixty years ago. But still. She had a fresh chance for happiness, free of the AOC. “Don’t start your new life with murder. More murder, I mean.”

“Are you going to stop me?” Milshadred pushed luxurious curls out of her perfect face.

They could find her if the Court decided to punish her, and Ani was tired of fighting. “I’m just telling you what I think.”

“Mrrrrrow,” growled Master Fey.

“Whatever, cat.” Milshadred sashayed toward the exit, her human clothing too tight on her curvaceous body. “See you in the funny papers.”

The cat’s ears twitched backward, and he tensed.

“What is it?” Ani asked him.

Something’s wrong. Time to purl.
The cat disappeared, yet for some reason the vision of his yellow eyes lingered after his body was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

After transporting the onesies to Vegas, Embor checked in at the Sun Tower. The tallest building in the Realm, the skyscraper’s origins had been lost. Skythia had gathered Elders, cabinet members and other individuals for an emergency meeting near the top.

Embor had checked in—and had yet to check back out. He understood he was needed, and Anisette understood as well, but their disconnect was uncomfortable. This reaction was standard with a new bond. Separation wouldn’t harm them, but it wasn’t pleasant.

He fidgeted as Skythia and Harald Braithwait argued Realm policy. Martial law had been approved by a majority of the surviving Elder Court. He’d stated his opinions and felt confident Harald would sway Skythia into agreeing. The elderly statesman and his brother had stepped up during this crisis. Whoever had described them as decrepit hadn’t heard them debate.

Refugees fled Cappita as magic loss expanded through the district. Because siblings could communicate mind-to-mind, news of the devastation spread fast. The leprechauns had arrived ten minutes ago, and the Seers were in trances, calculating outcomes. Jake and Talista, aided by Crissy, were searching high and low for the onesie Seer, Rae Ann. Embor hadn’t shared Jake’s abilities with rest of the Court, considering what the onesies had just inflicted upon their land. He had, however, shared his research into repository stones, and Nebibi Akabar’s science team was pouring over the data.

To Embor’s surprise—or not—the laundress Janelle Serendipity had inserted herself into the top-tier deliberations. Everyone knew Janelle, and her network provided her with a unique perspective and the ability to disseminate information. She knew who could get messages to whom and how they were likely to respond.

The rifts continued to pour magic from the Realm into humanspace where it caused a series of earthquakes. They’d thrown up an outpost on the other side, guarding the weak fabric. The area was prone to sudden transportations and spell skewing. Humans fled the destruction as best they could. Fairies on both sides had glimpsed gnome activity, which could only be explained by magical mirages. The vermin hadn’t been spotted in Cappita for decades.

But Anisette was still near the nucleus, contributing what she could. The science team was overjoyed to have a twin monitoring the fissures, but Embor wanted her out. If the ring committee needed an eyewitness, they could find someone other than the Primary’s bondmate.

That news hadn’t rippled through the assembled populace yet, though Janelle had, oddly enough, asked about it. When he’d confirmed the bond, she’d whooped like she’d just won the lottery.

Patience twitching, Embor rested his elbows on the table and broke into Skythia’s and Harald’s dispute.

“Skythia, we can’t assume the humans will remain ignorant.” The crack, along with the attendant earthquakes, was in a rural part of the United States. “Harald and Kamar need to lead a team to handle the humans’ media and government. Their involvement with the New Expansionist party makes them experienced in human politics. And now I intend to fetch Anisette.”

Skythia, slouched in her chair, raised an eyebrow. “You can’t leave. We need you here, and Ani’s a distraction.”

“That’s ridiculous. It’s not as if I plan to disappear.” Anisette wasn’t in physical danger, as best as could be determined. Warran, Ophelia and most of the AOC’s board of directors were in custody. The gnome sightings were hallucinations brought on by magical flux. But no one knew what the fissures would do.

“We all have to do our part, Embor,” Skythia said. “We need Ani watching the fissure, and Harald and Kamar on provisions and distribution.”

“Nebibi can assign an ether fairy to Anisette’s location.” There were a few experienced—and loyal—ring agents stationed near the fissures already and three rescue teams locating survivors. They didn’t need Anisette. “The Younger Court can handle the refugees.”

We can’t give the Braithwaits so much power
, Skythia chided in his head.
They’re our competition.

You’re worried about elections now?
Embor half-turned from Harald to conceal his features. Most fairies fell into a glazed expression when they mind-spoke, and it was impolite to do so in company.

Skythia had had enough practice in this particular type of discourtesy that her expression didn’t change.
I’m worried more than ever.

In a few weeks’ time, our world could be as dead as humanspace or worse. Elections aren’t my concern.
Nebibi, half of a twin set from Xerode, was their ring expert. Her team predicted a new Incident would commence in five hundred hours. Since they had insufficient knowledge about the last one, they had insufficient knowledge about how to stop this one.

The Seers had always asserted the Incident was connected to humanspace. Did this confirm or confuse it? If a fissure caused by a lost one was the origin forty years ago, the Realm’s magic would bounce back in three months.

At the same time, it seemed impossible they’d overlooked a fissure, no matter where it had opened. Areas of the continent far from the Court complex were demonstrating increased brownouts. They’d just sent a science team to verify the rate of attrition on the islands scattered across the rest of the globe.

Skythia pressed his foot under the table.
Do you really want anyone besides us in charge?

Harald cleared his throat. “Primaries, if we could finish our discussion?”

“Excuse us, Harald.” Embor inclined his head. “I vote we bring in repositories to create a perimeter around the fissures. I also vote we test each lost one and, if they prove stable, inform them of their ancestry. It’s not as if we’ll be able to hide their existence from our citizens any longer.”

“We can’t tell the loons,” Skythia said. “We shouldn’t tell the Realm, either. The more we stick to business as usual, the easier everything will be to handle.”

In his head, Skythia added,
We’re going to have enough trouble without the clans screaming baby-napper at us. They’d want to bring their kin home. We’re cooped up in the Tower of Rapunzel, running around like gnomes on speed, because the loons blew up our castle and, I don’t know, brought an end to the world as we know it. Thanks a heap, REM, but I don’t feel so damn fine.

What?

Nothing.
She rubbed her eyes. No one was in keen form after the past day.
We can’t cancel long-standing policies without more consideration. The babies have still got to go.

Jake’s proof our policies are wrong
,
Embor said.
Now leave me be and speak out loud like a civilized person.

She stiffened. Across the large table, Harald turned to his brother.

“Kids today,” he muttered. Aloud—because he was civilized.

Embor could feel his brain throb. Skythia liked to toss in abrasive mindspeech and nonsequitors when they disagreed to throw him off. Sometimes it worked.

Not today.

“I’ve cast my votes, and you’ve all heard them.” He scooted his chair back and rose.

Janelle, quill scribbling in a black book, glanced up. “I think we should tell the sadlings, too. They deserve the truth.”

“You don’t get a vote, miss.” Kamar Braithwait patted her hand. Where Harald was pragmatic and stately, his heroic actions during the disaster already being story globed, Kamar was occasionally distracted by women. The man was a hundred years past the age of fertility, and it hadn’t slowed him one whit. “But I do agree with you.”

Janelle smiled. “I don’t need an official vote. Yet.”

“Can’t you convince the cats to tell us what they’re doing?” Harald asked Embor. “They allied with you, Primary.”

Embor considered the white cat. “I wouldn’t say allied. I’d say they tolerate us.”

“The first cat helped you the whole time,” Harald pointed out. “Who was in charge of the sly ones?”

“I can’t begin to guess their legislative structure.” The white cat had seemed to be the speaker, but the rest weren’t deferential. “I did as they asked and returned the sadlings—lost ones—to humanspace.”

“I could come to hate cats,” Skythia said.

“They can be frustrating,” Embor said. “But I get the impression they’re saving our lives. And on that note, I’m going to fetch Anisette. She can do her part at the clinic,” he said, though his key motivation was having her at his side, where it was safe.

“Five minutes,” Skythia finally granted. “But she works in the clinic, at the opposite end of the tower from you.”

Embor didn’t need her permission, but he took it nonetheless.

In twenty seconds, Embor transported to Anisette at the Court complex. He took in the surroundings instantly and noticed a small fact she hadn’t seen fit to share with him.

“Where’s Agent Milshadred?”

Anisette startled at his arrival. Stars shone in the night sky, and a chillier breeze than he’d have expected this time of year blew dust around the courtyard. She’d built a fire near the dry fountain from what appeared to be decorative plants and chairs.

“I didn’t want to fight with her about staying, and we can find her if we need to. We have her DNA.” She pointed at the dentures on the fountain’s rim.

“Your sister sends her love.” Talista had yelled many things, none affectionate and most directed at what she’d do to Embor if he didn’t keep Anisette safe, but he figured the sum total was that she’d sent her love.

“Are you here for my reports?” Anisette glanced at the entryway of the complex, dark and ominous now that night had fallen. “I’ve been making record globes like Nabibi asked. The tremblers have gotten pretty frequent.”

“No, I’m relieving you of duty. Nabibi can station someone else here.” He was the Primary of the Realm. He could ensure his bondmate was by his side where she belonged. In his bed where she belonged. “Your place is with me.”

Normally when a bond was new, mates didn’t separate for weeks. He and Anisette had loved only once before throwing themselves into this conflict. It hadn’t been nearly enough to ease the compulsion, and Embor felt it rise within him.

She rose from the dusty courtyard and brushed off her trousers. With a faint smile she said, “Perhaps your place is with me.”

“Hm.” He concentrated, testing the magic. It fluctuated wildly, some areas thin and others seething. The fissures had widened beyond the initial tears in the session chamber. It seemed the science team’s calculations were accurate. “I’m with you now.”

“It’s about time,” she said, and walked into his arms.

His tension receded like an outgoing wave, and he bent his head to kiss her. Her lips clung and parted. The smells of dust and the metallic taint of the mineral springs disappeared in the sweet scent of her skin. The creaks of the palace, the hiss of escaping magic, faded as well. Lust and love stirred in a forceful mixture that threatened to prolong Skythia’s five minutes into an hour.

Knowing his sister, she’d transport here in four minutes to drag him and Anisette back to the Sun Tower by their ears. He reluctantly drew out of his lover’s embrace, adjusting his trousers to accommodate his erection. “Skythia expects us back.”

“How soon?” Anisette slipped a hand inside the neck of his tunic. “I don’t need long. Ritual one hundred and fifty six is—”

“We can’t.” He grasped her fingers. The fountain’s rim was the exact right height to seat her, spread her legs and push inside her wet heat.

“Three minutes.” She backed toward the fountain as if she’d read his mind, which she may have. “All the chaos and danger, the Realm’s future in tatters, and all I can think about is how much I want you inside me.”

Embor swallowed. He may have entertained a few lascivious thoughts himself in the past couple of hours. So many ways to make love, with or without a rule book. “That’s to be expected. Less than a day has passed since we joined.”

“Our timing is atrocious.” She bumped into the curved stone and leaned against it. “If only some impossible man would have seduced me ages ago, we could be well into the three hundreds by now.”

He gripped his hands behind him. Now he understood why Skythia thought Anisette’s presence would distract him. “The three hundreds are?”

She turned her wrists out, offering herself. Her long, red hair was snared in a dusty braid, her pants were dirty, and blood from her healed wound splattered her tunic. She was the loveliest, sexiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

“I could show you.”

The air sparkled as if the stars had descended to earth. Everything hazed into soft focus, everything but the woman in front of him. The woman he loved, who loved him. The woman whose kisses warmed his lips. The woman unlacing her blood-stiffened tunic. The woman who smelled faintly of carrion.

Something sharp latched onto his calf, and Embor lurched forward.

“Fiddlesticks.” Anisette wrenched her tunic closed and darted behind Embor. A shiver of power whizzed up his leg before the pain disappeared. She rose, a dead gnome in her grasp. “I was wondering when they’d show up.”

“Is that a gnome?” he asked stupidly. He peered around the courtyard with fire in his fingertips, but saw no red caps or evil faces.

Anisette threw it into the fountain with a shudder. “Master Fey warned me there might be gnomes.”