The Dark Throne (7 page)

“Everyone needs someone,” I repeated earnestly. “That’s what…friends…are for.” I nearly choked on the word as he leaned closer, the distance now halved, enough that I could see every one of his eyelashes and fall into the blue of his eyes. One corner of his lovely mouth tipped upward as I stumbled on my words and a flush heated my cheeks.

“We have always been more than friends, Tess,” he said softly. “We have both been fighting against it. Against each other.”

“I know,” I said, suddenly embarrassed at the memory of my childish petulance and hot-burning jealousy.

“Don’t look away. Please. It is not entirely your fault.” He smiled that small, enigmatic smile again. His thumb brushed my cheekbone. I echoed the motion with my thumb on the back of his neck. His voice became low and urgent. “I am a difficult man to love, make no mistake. I expect nothing. But know that I will always love you, no matter what the future holds. I am one of the High Queen’s Three, bound in blood to protect and serve her unto death, but though I am bound again to another queen, there is only one woman who rules my heart.” He pressed my hand to his chest, and I could feel the pulse of his heart.

I pressed my lips together. He blinked, and I couldn’t hold back my giggle. The emotions of the day spun the hiccup of amusement into a full-blown laugh, and I had to put my hands on either side of Finnead’s face again as he looked at me with incredulity. “I’m sorry,” I gasped, “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at what you—well, I am a little, I mean, not at
what
you said but how you said it…” I trailed off as another bout of laughter overtook me, silently shaking my shoulders, and to my horror I felt tears prickling my eyes again. “I’m sorry,” I said again, gulping in a breath of air and trying to push down the tears. Finnead’s eyes softened and an answering smile touched his lips.

“I would rather you laugh than cry,” he said gently, brushing away a tear with his thumb.

I gave him a watery smile. “Didn’t you ever watch romance movies when you were in the mortal world doing Mab’s bidding? That sounded suspiciously like something out of
Pride and Prejudice
. Don’t get me wrong, the delivery was...” At a loss for words again, I gave him a thumbs-up and giggled at myself.

He chuckled. I realized it had been a very long time since I’d seen him smile, or heard him laugh. I liked the sound. “Now that you mention it, I suppose that
would
seem rather cliché in the mortal world.”

I smiled. “But thank you for the sentiment. It was very courtly.”

He inclined his head in a very gentlemanly way, somehow still keeping that agonizingly small distance between us.

“I mean it,” I continued, filling the space with words, “when I say that I’ll listen, if you need to talk. I haven’t been through what you have, but I’ve seen enough, and I’ve talked to my brother about some of the things he’s seen…I know it’s difficult, and I’m not saying you
have
to talk to….me…” I trailed off as one of his long fingers touched my lips delicately, hushing me.

“I am very grateful for the offer, and I will surely keep it in the forefront of my mind,” said Finnead, his eyes suddenly flashing with the Fae-spark, “but I am quite finished with talking for now, Tess.”

And with that, Finnead took my face in his hands and kissed me deeply, sending torrents of fire racing through my veins and reducing all thought to nothing more than a primal want. My hand tightened on the back of his neck as his tongue parted my lips, gently but firmly exploring my mouth, flicking across my teeth and sending shivers down my spine. One of his hands traced the nape of my neck and cupped the back of my head, and he encircled me with his other arm, lifting me effortlessly back into my chair in one seamless graceful movement, kissing me thoroughly all the while. He remained on one knee in front of the chair, subtly giving me control, allowing me the freedom to draw away easily if I wished. But I leaned forward, the fingertips of one hand tracing through his midnight-dark hair, and with my two longest fingers of my other hand I pulled at the front of his shirt, drawing him toward me. My hands reminded me sharply of their healing burns, but the discomfort was nothing compared to the whirlwind of desire within me. I gently nipped his full bottom lip with my teeth, rewarded by his sudden sharp breath; I traced the hard outlines of the muscles in his shoulders and chest, reveling in the feel of him. The Caedbranr’s power stirred, circling lazily behind my breastbone. As if from a distance I heard a silvery humming, like a clear sweet bell’s tone drawn into infinity, and the Sword’s power rose and answered, adding a clarion note. I felt his hands echoing my motions, gliding over my shoulders and back, igniting a trail of goosebumps. I kissed him hungrily, gasped into his mouth as he lifted me again, this time to my feet. I bit his lip again, a bit harder, tipping my head up now to kiss him, and he groaned, a sound of want that thrilled me. He moved as if to lay me on the bed, but checked himself, drawing back gently from my seeking lips. I stared at him dazedly, not understanding anything other than the absence of his mouth upon mine. The humming from the two swords faded into silence, leaving us only with our own ragged breathing. My hands ached as I came back to myself.

Finnead gently set me on the edge of the bed, his hands lingering for a short moment on my shoulders before he stepped back. His eyes were still drowning-dark with desire, but he said huskily, “You are the Bearer of the Iron Sword, and I am a Knight of the Wild Court.”

“That doesn’t make us want each other any less,” I pointed out, trying to catch my breath.

He bowed his head for a moment, a smile curving his kiss-reddened lips. I forced myself not to reach for him. “No, it does not,” he agreed, “but…I shall observe the proper honors. You are not some common…”

I raised one eyebrow as he struggled to finish the sentence. “Mortal plaything?” I suggested.

“Ah, Tess, do not make me question myself,” he said, taking another step backward.

“It was only a joke,” I said quickly, smiling, my lips still tingling from his kisses. “Again…thank you for being a gentleman.”

He bowed his head briefly at that, and when he raised his head I saw the old familiar marble-smooth expression starting to slide back into place. A prickle of unhappiness stabbed at me, but I pushed it away. At least now I could understand a little more. “And,” he said, his voice regaining some coolness, “also understand that...I know I do not have any right to be the sole claimant of your favors.”

My cheeks burned as I thought about Luca. I wondered briefly what it would feel like to kiss the big
ulfdrengr,
and then I ushered the thought into the back of my mind. “If you don’t have any right, then I don’t think I can…impose any of my own limits.” I turned my mind’s eye to the sight of Gray, evaluating Finnead back in the forest clearing. Now that they were both bound to Vell, they would spend countless hours together, and only a blind man would not see her ethereal beauty.

“Even though you don’t ask it of me, I will not pursue any others,” Finnead murmured. Then the mask slid fully into place and he touched the hilt of the Brighbranr cursorily. “I must be going.”

I nodded. “Will you be helping with the choosing of the
vyldgard
?”

“Yes.”

“I hope to be able to observe,” I said.

“You will be well enough by then,” he replied firmly.

“Good. I can’t wait to see what challenges Vell sets before them.”

“It is not only Vell setting the challenges.” Finnead smiled a predatory smile that was much more wolf-like than I’d ever seen on his pale Unseelie visage.

“Careful,” I warned, “you’re going to take after the Northerners soon.”

He shrugged with one shoulder. “They are my people now,” he said simply. “We are not Unseelie or Northern or Seelie anymore. All bound to the High Queen are
vyldgard
. We are a Court apart.” He said the words as though he relished them.

“I’m glad to hear it,” I said honestly.

A brisk knock came at the door; after a slight pause, Calliea breezed into the room, copper kettle held jauntily in one hand. “I’ve never seen such a line for the well in the courtyard,” she said brightly, raising her eyebrows innocently at us as she hung the kettle over the fire again. She settled into the chair by the fire nonchalantly and took a block of wood out of her belt-pouch. Her whittling was a study in practiced indifference. I hid my smile.

“I shall be going, now that you are properly attended,” said Finnead.

“Will you come again tomorrow?” The question slid out from my lips before I could stop myself. Calliea’s dagger didn’t pause in her carving.

“You will be well enough to rejoin us soon,” Finnead replied with a small smile. Then he gave me a courtly half-bow, the picture of knightly courtesy, and strode from the room. I pulled my legs up onto the bed and leaned back on my pillows, and Calliea pretended very successfully that she didn’t notice the giddy smile lingering on my lips as I recalled in vivid detail the delicious feel of Finnead’s kiss.

Chapter 4

I
fell asleep still thinking about Finnead’s lips upon mine, still smiling that stupid smile. When I woke, Sage sat in the chair by the fire, studying a leather-bound book in the flickering light of the fire.

“One thing can be said about this healers’ watch,” he said without looking up from the page. “It does give me time to catch up on my reading.”

I smiled, which turned into a wince as I stretched my stiff body. “Glad to provide you some time for that at least.” I pushed myself into a sitting position with the heels of my hands. The pain nagged at the edge of my mind, but it was a constant companion now. I ignored it. There was already a plate on the bedside table: a simple meal of bread, a few slices of meat and a chunk of cheese. My stomach rumbled at the sight. I crossed my legs and settled the plate on my lap, leaning back against the headboard of the bed. I felt the runes sliding beneath the surface of the dark polished wood, their power brushing past me with a feather-light touch, whispering of healing and strength now that I was awake. As I chewed a piece of the fresh bread, I held my right hand up contemplatively. The swelling in my fingers was almost unnoticeable now, and no blood stained the bandages. The portion of my mind that had begun my training as a healer with Eamon back in the forest barracks noted the progress with a detached satisfaction.

“I fear my leisure time will soon be drastically reduced,” noted Sage drolly, raising one eyebrow as I slid my empty plate onto the table and began unwinding the bandage on my left hand.

“I’d think you’d be happy to get back to….well, whatever it is everyone is doing these days.” I set aside the old bandages and probed at my hand gently. The wound in the center of my palm still ached, but it had healed to a raw spot that I could cover with the tips of two fingers. White scars laced the tender pink skin of my hand. I found myself thinking with a strange clarity that the scars weren’t as ugly as I’d feared they would be. In fact, there was a simple beauty to their symmetry, their interlocking tendrils echoing the dancing flames that had enveloped my hands as I held the Crown of Bones.

“Training,” said Sage. “Sharpening swords and polishing armor, running foot-races and holding archery contests. Training, and waiting.”

“Waiting for the next battle?” I flexed my hand, watching the rough scab stretch and grimacing as my still-healing skin prickled. I reached for the jar of salve and began rubbing it into my palm, breathing in the scent of winter, the unmistakable signature of Vell’s wild magic. As I rubbed the salve into my skin, I felt her power seeping into me, thrumming through my veins, calling to my own
taebramh,
nudging it into wakefulness. I took a deep breath and stretched my legs, reveling in the return of some small feeling of strength and silently thanking Vell for her stubborn loyalty despite her new responsibilities as High Queen.

“Waiting for the next battle, but also waiting to hear of the Queens’ plan,” Sage replied.

“Does it matter?” I turned my attention to my right hand, leaving my left unbandaged, enjoying the subtle feel of air upon my skin.

“Why would you think it does not?” Sage asked the question lightly but I felt his sharp gaze on me, though he still held his book open and leaned back in his chair by the fire, the picture of languid relaxation.

I gave a little shrug as I worked the salve into my right hand. The spot in the center of my palm still bled a little, but it had been a more severe burn than my other hand, and it was still healing faster than I’d anticipated, even factoring in Vell’s help. “No matter what the plan, all the warriors of the Seelie Court will follow their Queen.”

“Of course,” said Sage, “but that does not mean we are mindless soldiers, ready to throw ourselves upon our swords if the Queen demands it.”

“Then the Seelie court must be a bit different than Darkhill. Mab seems to demand just that from her subjects.”

“There is a reason the two Courts have not joined to fight against the Shadow,” the Seelie healer said, firelight glinting in his hair and brightening his vivid green eyes. “The Dark Court holds to bloodier traditions than we of the Court of Summer.” He turned the page in his book almost lazily. “But do not forget that though the cold of a winter’s night freezes a bloom, the high noon sun of a beautiful day can scorch the earth just as easily.”

“I’ve endured both ice and fire,” I said, thinking of the frost that had crept over my body after I’d been poisoned in the barracks, and the cold of the river Darinwel numbing my limbs…and then the bright-burning gem in my hands, pouring bone-breaking power into Vell and her Three. “I don’t question the power of either. I know the pain they can inflict.” My hand reached up and found Gwyneth’s pendant of its own accord, my thumb brushing the rubies that had once been droplets of my blood.

“I do not revel in pain,” said Sage. “There are some who do, in both Courts. It is part of who we are, as creatures that feel so deeply, to become fascinated with the…extremes…of both pleasure and pain.”