Siren's Song: The Gray Court, Book 5 (4 page)

She sighed. “I sincerely hope not.” She gestured toward the passenger seat. “Set me down, and if you don’t mind, grab me some pants from my suitcase in the trunk. We need to get out of here before more of
her
goons show up.”

“We need to have a serious talk when we stop for the night, Cassie.” He would not be denied, not after what had happened.

“Yeah, we do.” She sighed, plucking the headband from her hair to run her fingers through it. “But I want to be dressed when we do.”

He bit back his response. She was right. He couldn’t be distracted by her beauty while he questioned her. “He called me sire.”

She grimaced and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I know.”

“Cassandra.”

The sharp breath she drew in, the frightened gaze, told him she hadn’t expected to hear that name. “Yes?”

“You
will
tell me what I need to know.”

“Too much information too soon could cause damage.” She held up her hand, and he could see the way she shook. She wasn’t cold. She was terrified. “Please, Oberon. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

“Then swear to me you will not lie to me, no matter what.” He loathed lying above all else. “Give me your word on this, and I’ll grant you what you wish.”

They stared at one another, her imploring, him implacable, until finally she sighed. “Yes, sire.”

Those two simple, innocuous words filled him with dread.

Chapter Three

“All right.” Cassie took a deep breath. She’d been staring out the motel window, watching for any sign that the Dark Queen’s men had found their hidey-hole. So far the only suspicious thing she’d managed to uncover was the fungus currently living in the motel’s shower stall. “Your name is Oberon, but that isn’t your title.”

“I gather I’m a ruler of some sort.”

Of some sort. That was putting it mildly. “You are.”

“Then my memories were taken from me for political reasons.” He paced behind her, his footsteps soft on the cheap carpet. “Who is my successor?”

She laughed. “Trust me, your successor is the last person who wants the throne.”

He stopped behind her. She could feel his gaze boring into her. “Who?”

“Robin Goodfellow.”

He grunted. “My Hob.”

She swung around, startled. “You remember him?”

He looked distinctly uncomfortable, his brow furrowed in pain. Not surprising, if the nature of his illness was what she suspected. “He’s mine.”

A swift shaft of jealously stabbed through her. “He’s mated.”

He blinked, shocked either by her outburst or her revelation. She couldn’t tell which. “Oh?”

“It’s how you got weakened. It was his mate you saved from death. Trust me, the Hob is your most loyal follower. He’s killed for you, and now that you saved his mate he’s even more loyal. I’m willing to bet both our lives that he’ll do almost anything to see you restored.”

“I see.” He settled on the side of one of the double beds. “Tell me, Cassie. If he’s so loyal, why haven’t you turned me over to him?”

He would ask that. If it hadn’t been for Shane, she would have done just that. There was no one better equipped to protect the High King than Robin. But Shane’s instructions had been clear. Oberon
had
to be brought to the Dunne farm, and fast. His soul depended on it. “First, let me check you for wounds. It might help if I knew how you were bespelled. If it was injected rather than ingested, it might narrow down the list of possible suspects.”

“Can you speak while you examine me?”

She laughed. “Yes, in a way, but I won’t be answering any questions.” She gestured toward him. “Lay down and make yourself comfortable.”

He hesitated a moment before he obeyed. “I’m trusting you.”

“I’m honored.” And she was, truly. Oberon trusted no one but the Hob. That he obeyed her with very little question was an honor she would do her best to be worthy of. “All right. This might tickle a little.”

“That’s not what a healer usually says.” He watched her closely, following her hands as she placed them just over his chest.

Cassie took a deep breath. “Wait for it.” Cassie began to hum, soft and low, aligning her voice with Oberon’s energy signature.

It sounded so simple, the idea that you could hum or sing, and someone would be healed. But it was far more complex than that. Opening her mouth and simply belting out Lady GaGa’s latest wouldn’t do much beyond make her look ridiculous. She had to find a person’s song, their unique energy signature, underneath whatever it was that was wrong with them. She had to find the sour notes, sing in counterpoint to them and put them back in harmony.

It was why the task of healing Oberon would take longer than healing a simple wound, though she thanked the gods she could find none. His flesh had not been pierced, or even bruised.

The hum to find his energy signature was causing the curse to rise, to try and fight her from finding that which was Oberon and separate it from that which did not belong. She concentrated, humming under her breath, listening for the resonance that would show she was on the right track.

There. A deep, throbbing song echoed inside him, strong and deep and true. She’d never heard anything quite like the music of the High King. The more she sang and drew it out, the more complex harmonies she found. The drumbeat of his life thread was strong, steady, almost causing her to sigh in relief. Whatever had affected him wasn’t life-threatening, at least.

No. It was the harmonies that were being changed, overwritten, and until Cassie knew them all there wasn’t much she could do to fix them. She’d need to take the time to learn them or risk changing some fundamental core of his personality.

Cassie scowled as one of the disharmonies sounded, different from the others. This one was older, harsher, twining around the other harmonies as if it had been there forever. A scar on his psyche, it lent a series of minor cords to his song that had her shivering with discomfort. This was a deep wound, old, no longer separate from his song but an intrinsic part of it. Changing that, trying to heal that scar, would forever change the core of who he was now.

Cassie filed it away for later questions. She had the feeling she knew what that scar represented, because the High King had once had a soul-bonded mate who wasn’t Cassie.

Titannia. The Black Queen, the woman who had ripped apart the fae court with her lust for power, had once been the beloved of the man who would someday become Cassie’s. The Black Queen had made a pact with a demon, becoming the first
leannan Sidhe
, a vampire with hungers far greater than any fae could comprehend. The war she’d started had almost destroyed the fae. Only the intervention of the gods had kept them from fading away into the twilight.

The gods had declared that the courts were now—and forever would be—separate from one another. Gloriana was placed in charge of the White, Titannia of the Black, while Oberon was declared High King over both. Minor courts such as hers picked sides, Atlantis nominally White while Pacifica had chosen Black, following Titannia into darkness. The courts were set, the High King and his Hob ruling over them all with a sense of honor that Cassie had to admire.

And war between the courts was avoided, for the most part. The occasional skirmish would occur as either Titannia or Gloriana tested the boundaries of their hatred for one another, but neither queen was willing to risk either the wrath of Oberon or the gods. Instead, they all tread the delicate dance of one-upmanship without ever changing the tune.

But the soul-bond Oberon had once held with Titannia had been severed somehow, leaving behind the scar that now ran so deeply through him. Rumor had it that the gods themselves had separated the bonded pair, granting Oberon freedom from the evil creature his mate had become. Others said that Oberon himself had broken the bond, but in the process had ripped his soul in half. Still other, darker rumors declared that Oberon had not chosen to remove the bond, but that Titannia had when she’d bonded with her demon, offering her mate’s soul as part of the bargain.

Cassie could see the truth in the old wound. The rips and tears were worn down, old, but still there. Oberon had been forcibly removed from his mate, whether by his own hand or by the hand of the gods she did not know, nor did she care. The only thing that mattered was the taint of the Dark Court did not lie over the wound, thus Titannia had not been the one to free herself. Rather, Oberon had been the one who chose to leave his soul-bonded. The minor harmonics were too much a part of him for it to be otherwise.

So she left it alone. No, the discordant notes she sought were not the same as what had caused his soul to be wounded, so she listened further for those chords, the threads of their harmonies trying to change the overall song of his life.

It was pervasive, the overlapping song, almost drowning out the melody that made up the High King. No wonder he couldn’t remember anything but bits and pieces of his former life. He couldn’t hear any of it over the cacophony of the curse.

Cassie listened to the music she needed to restore, found where she needed to begin, and sang.

Oberon watched as Cassie’s brow smoothed out, the frown that she’d been sporting as she hummed gone. Her lips parted, and the most gorgeous sound he’d ever heard filled his ears—no, his very being, bringing him a peace he’d seldom felt before. The pain of loss that was such a part of him he’d barely realized it was there faded under the weight of her song.

For just a moment, another face superimposed itself over Cassie’s, a young face filled with laughter. Light brown hair was pulled up into a complicated knot. Sparkling hazel eyes gazed at him with affection so long gone he almost wept. Flowers adorned her hair in a fairy crown as she took his hand, following him to where they had agreed to speak their vows.

The woman had once been the light of his life, his bondmate, the one person he’d trusted above all others, and she’d ultimately betrayed him. Who she was, her name, he couldn’t remember, and wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Cassie’s voice rose, forcing him to remember, causing that bit of him he’d rather let go to rise to the surface.

Titannia.

Oh, Titannia. The pain, sharp and bitter, filled him once more as Cassie’s voice forced him to remember.

The Black Queen, the great betrayer, the one who’d torn everything he’d ever held dear apart and, in the process, created the three Courts. She had to be the one who’d done this to him, caused him to forget who he was,
what
he was. It was by her decree that he’d been poisoned, but why? Why did someone he’d once vowed to love with his very soul want him lost forever?

No. Not lost. Controlled. He was High King Oberon Airgeatine, once called the Silver Flame, and if Titannia could rule him she would rule the fae world.

Cassie sat back, her song quietly ending as she sighed. “Wow. That’s pretty… Whoa.”

“What is it? What did you sense?”

“The curse is trying to eradicate all of your harmonies.” When he gave her a blank look she grimaced. “It’s hard to explain, but every person’s self is made up of different harmonies, blending with the melody that is your ultimate self. It’s…” She licked her lips. “You are the sum total of what you have seen and learned, but underneath that is a core being, a usually untouchable being, that makes you who you truly are. It can make a person into a great peacemaker like Ghandi, or a serial killer like Ted Bundy, but it is immutable. That core holds both our deepest darkness and our greatest light. It’s the harmonies layered on top of that core melody that make us who we are from day to day.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” He sat up, tugging his shirt back into place. He felt mussed, as if he’d writhed on the bed, and his voice was hoarse. Had he spoken while she sang? How much had she heard, and how much had she guessed?

“You’re not the same Oberon you were a hundred years ago because your harmonies have been added to, changed by time and hindsight. The you of a hundred years ago was not the you of a hundred years before that, and so on. Each new experience adds to the harmony that you are.”

“I suppose that makes a certain amount of sense.” The gods knew he was not the same man who had loved Titannia with all his heart.

“But you, the core being, remains unchanged. While someone can alter your harmonies, make the you of now different from who you once were, changing that core melody should be impossible. You’ll never be a serial killer, because it simply isn’t part of your make-up.”

“But changing the harmonies can make me into a bad person.” Circumstances could turn even the best of people into hardened criminals or frightened children. He’d seen it far too many times to discount the possibility.

“Yes. By changing what you believe about yourself, removing those harmonies and drowning them out, it’s possible to reshape the you of now into what someone else wants.” Cassie bit her lip, watching him anxiously. “If the Black Court gets ahold of you, they will do everything in their power to convert you, make you one of them.”

“Titannia.” Whatever she saw in his gaze had her flinching back. “If she holds sway over me…” But he couldn’t finish that thought, couldn’t figure out why that would be so devastating. “This is because I’m a king?”

The slight hesitation before her answer was far more telling than the word she finally spoke. “Yes.”

“Can you restore my harmonies?”

She stared at him, her eyes unfocused, seeing or hearing something beyond his comprehension. “I think so, but Shane was right. This is very complex and will take some time to repair. Whoever did this planned it for some time, and it’s not a simple thing they’re attempting. Changing such a long life, altering your harmonies…this was meant to occur over months, not days.”

“Then it wasn’t a crime of opportunity, was it?” If this was something that had been planned for quite a while there was no way his weakness could truly be connected to it.

“No. And that scares me far more than your lost memories, because it means you definitely have a traitor in your court. One close enough to deliver the medium used to cause you to take the curse into your body without you even once questioning it.”

“It would require sympathetic magic.” That he understood that instinctively should have surprised him, but didn’t.

Cassie nodded. “A lock of hair, a fingernail clipping, even a used tissue would do the trick. Someone who has access to your inner sanctum either helped, or is the culprit.”

“You say my Hob is loyal, but are his men?”

“He hand-picks them himself, but there’s always a possibility that one might have slipped through the cracks.” She paused, her expression uncomfortable. “He did recently recruit someone who used to be Black Court, but from what I understand you met him and approved of him.”

“Who?” That recruit might be the answer to all of his questions.

“Lord Raven MacSweeney.”

The name didn’t ring any bells or set off any alarms. “Why was he taken in by Robin?”

“Because Lord Raven is his son.”

Oberon wanted to groan. “Wonderful.”

“If it helps, when Michaela nearly lost her life, Raven went with Robin to destroy the one who’d hurt her. Beyond that, and the fact that he’d once been one of the Black Queen’s favorite enforcers, I don’t know much about him.”

“Then he remains on our list of suspects. You say I met him. It’s possible he got hold of something of mine at that time, something to add to this curse that has taken my memories.” Oberon stood, paced toward the window to stare restlessly into the darkness. “I need to make a list of any other possible suspects, anyone who could have access to me. Could the Black Court have found a way to subvert someone else close to me?”