The Magic Knot (15 page)

Niall pulled a small package wrapped in gold silk from his pocket and unfolded the fabric. The ancient Greek medallion, acquired from a contact in Dublin the previous day at a cost of nearly one hundred thousand pounds, gleamed in the moonlight.

The dark man’s eyes flickered like marsh gas beneath his hood as Niall held out the bribe. Ciar wouldn’t pass up a trinket from her ancient homeland. “I hold in me hand a gift for the Queen of Nightmares. We shall enter her demesne clothed as we are.”

After a few moments’ silence, the dark man said, “One must enter skyclad.”

Niall had expected that comeback. The queen couldn’t be seen to capitulate completely and lose face. He had only one option. “Michael. You up for this?”

His brother grinned.

Niall sighed, full of conflicting emotions. He really didn’t want Michael parading around naked in front of Rose.

“You know me, boyo.” Michael unfastened his leather pants. “I came prepared, so I did.” He kicked off the pants and posed, arms bent like a strongman, in only a black leather G-string.

“Grand.” Niall struggled to keep the grimace off his face. Part of him hated his brother’s lack of restraint, while another part envied it.

Rose stared at Michael, lips pursed and eyebrows raised. Niall had thought she might be embarrassed, but she looked anything but.

He twisted away, muscles rigid, ready to pound a few rocks to dust. Rose caught his arm. Reluctantly he halted, eyes fixed on the mansion, determined not to look at her. After a few seconds he relented and glanced down. A wicked smile danced on her lips as she nodded toward Michael. “I can imagine you’ look pretty good in that outfit.”

It took a few seconds for Niall’s befuddled brain to process her words. Heat gathered in his belly and tightened his groin. He grunted and pulled away. If Ciar sensed his bond with Rose, it would put her in danger, and above all else, he must protect her. “Come on. We must get inside.”

Michael strolled past them, an eager grin on his face. The house shimmered into view, and he stepped over the threshold of the east door.

Nightshade approached. “I’ll watch her back, Irish.”

When they reached the doorway, Rose nearly stepped on the wooden threshold. Niall jerked her back, his heart missing a beat. “Never, ever set foot on a join where one place becomes another.”

She turned wide eyes up to him. “Shit, Niall. You scared the living daylights out of me.”

“’Tis possible to fall through the crack in between, lass.” A simple precaution every fairy child knew, yet Rose did not. Fear ground like broken glass in his gut. She was so vulnerable. She needed watching all the time. He should never have given in to her demand and
brought her. Once Ciar got hold of him, he wouldn’t be able to keep her safe.

He glanced over his shoulder at Nightshade as Rose jumped the threshold into the house. The stalker’s silver eyes held understanding.

“What ever happens to me, you look out for the lass. Get her home in one piece.”

Nightshade nodded in silent assent.

They walked down the spacious marble hallway toward the great hall, where the troop would be settling in for the evening entertainment—tonight he’d probably become part of it. He clenched his fists, felt the reassuring pinch of his wrist sheaths, and pushed aside the knowledge that his knives would soon be taken from him. He would not let fear strip his courage.

Rose watched Michael’s naked back. Niall welcomed the hot rush of jealousy her look caused and let it fire his anger, readying him to face his nemesis.

The drumming and piping of traditional Irish music lilted gaily into the silence as they approached the double doors of the great hall. Michael made a sign in the air and the doors silently opened.

The rise and fall of conversation stuttered, then died. The music faltered, the last beats on the bodhran drum discordant in the uneasy silence. Every face in the room turned their way. When Nightshade entered, a murmur of surprise ran through the crowd. Niall had hoped the stalker would be a talking point to detract attention from Rose. Something was working to plan.

The crowds parted and Ciar approached, her delicate body dwarfed by those around her. She stopped ten yards away. Michael dashed forward, dropped to his knees, and kissed her feet. Sweet as a child, she smiled and ran a tiny hand across his hair.

“Good evening to you,
Seanchai
.” She looked genuinely pleased to see him. Maybe Niall had been wrong in thinking she would hurt his brother.

Michael backed away to be swallowed by an enthusiastic crowd of welcoming friends. Ciar tilted her face up at Niall as he and Rose approached. The tiny queen’s air of wounded innocence shot flashes of warning up and down his spine.

“By what right do you bring this human into my demesne, scald crow?”

Niall ignored the insulting name and fought to keep the satisfaction from his face as he extended his hand and played his trump card. “’Tis my pleasure to present Rosenwyn Tremain, the Cornish pisky queen.”

Ciar’s mask of control slipped. The wrinkled hag beneath the glamour scowled up at him for a few seconds before the beautiful fairy face shimmered back into place. If she’d known Rose’s identity earlier, she’d have denied them entry to the house. Now custom dictated that she must welcome Rose and offer her hospitality befitting royalty. Niall had done as he’d promised: gained Rose entry and given her a temporary advantage. He would pay for his audacity shortly, but it was worth it to show Ciar he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Rose stared in awe at the tiny woman before her. She had expected a statuesque queen. Ciar was little more than four feet tall, and petite as well. But she made up for her lack of height by her amazing appearance.

Her hair danced—a mass of golden flame—around her delicate face. Her skin glowed as if lit from within. Jewels glittered at her throat, fingers, and ears. She wore layer upon layer of diaphanous metallic fabric that appeared to smolder with heat.

Rose stared at her, slack jawed. Then it dawned on her that the effect was probably a glamour. Mentally Rose stepped back and tried to detach herself from her emotions. The fire faded from Ciar. Her dress no longer smoldered. A cascade of red-gold hair, only marginally less spectacular than the flames, flowed around her shoulders. Her delicate features should have been pretty, but they now appeared pinched and spiteful.

When Niall introduced Rose as queen of the piskies, she wasn’t sure what she expected Ciar to do, but she didn’t expect to be ignored.

Ciar made no comment about Rose, looking past
her toward Jacca and raising a delicate eyebrow. “I’m impressed, Niall. This magnificent creature alone is worth the price of your entry.”

She passed Niall and Rose with steps as dainty as a ballerina’s. Rose tensed when Ciar stopped before Jacca, scanned him critically, and skimmed her fingers across his chest. Her face level with his ribs, she resembled a child petting a monster.

Jacca eyed her warily, his stance rigid.

“Another proud one.” Ciar shot a malevolent glance at Niall. “Like attracts like, so they say. Don’t tell me he’s yours, scald crow?” When Niall didn’t answer, she glanced around the room and focused on Michael, who was downing the contents of a silver goblet. “Or maybe he’s blood-bonded with the
Seanchai
?”

The arrogant woman had purposely cut Rose. Anger throbbed, growing with each passing second. Over the last two days the men had drummed into her that she was a queen and Ciar’s equal. Rose was fed up with being ignored because of her human half, first by Lesidhe and now the queen.

Facing Ciar, Rose slapped her hands on her hips. To hell with the “don’t talk to her unless she speaks to you” instruction. Her professional success came from taking action, and she’d learned in school that nobody respected a wimp.

“He’s mine,” Rose announced in the don’t-mess-with-me voice she normally reserved for difficult clients.

The crowd around them caught a collective breath. Out of the corner of her eye Rose saw Niall’s warning look. She ignored it. He’d purposely sprung her identity on Ciar for maximum impact, and Rose had the
impression that the woman didn’t like surprises. Well, Rose didn’t like surprises either, and in the last few days she’d had enough to last a lifetime.

Ciar turned her head toward Rose, eyes narrowed. “Did I hear something?”

“If you’ve got a problem with your hearing, I’ll repeat it for you,” Rose said innocently. “He’s mine. Part of the Cornish troop. My bodyguard.”

Ciar looked Rose up and down, eyes burning slits of gold. “Well, human, you’ll need more than one bodyguard here. How—”

“I have.” Rose jabbed a thumb at Niall. “Bodyguard number two, present and correct.”

Ciar advanced on Rose, her nose scrunched up, her mouth an ugly pucker. “Niall belongs to me.” She invaded Rose’s space, bringing with her a sickly sweet smell of decay.

“Gently, now.” A compelling masculine voice floated out low and musical, charming and intimidating at the same time. Ciar’s expression relaxed, and Rose’s anger seeped away. Stepping back, she gazed around for the speaker. The crowd parted respectfully, opening a way for the owner of the voice.

Her first impression was of colors, jewel bright. Hair the color of spun gold trailed across ruby velvet. Eyes blue as sapphires, skin the pale perfection of a pearl. His appearance stunned her. Michael, Niall, and many of the fairies gathered around had a beauty that could pass as human. This man’s ethereal perfection could only be preternatural. He placed a hand on Ciar’s shoulder like a father gentling a child. “Do not distress yourself, my queen.”

Was he the king? Strange there’ been no mention of
him. The man gave Rose a brief, intrigued glance, then turned to Niall. “You choose to come back and make trouble, I see,” he said, regret heavy in his words.

The air sizzled with emotion as the two men locked eyes. Unspoken accusations shot between them.

“You gave me no choice,” Niall ground out, his skin pale, cheeks flushed with anger.

The man held Niall’s gaze for a few seconds longer, then blinked slowly as if the contact pained him and transferred his attention to Jacca. Niall’s jaw muscles knotted, and Rose heard his teeth grind. Whoever this man was, bad blood existed between him and Niall.

“Troy!” Michael’s joyful shout echoed around the room. He dodged through the crowd like a kid in a playground, threw himself at the man, knocking him back a pace, and gave him a bear hug. “I’m back.”

“I’d never have guessed, Michael.” The man’s eyes sparkled with pleasure for a moment before he disentangled himself gently from Michael’s embrace.

Troy. Oh, my God.
Rose pressed a hand to her mouth. This was Michael and Niall’s father. If she looked past the otherworldly gloss and golden hair, the resemblance was apparent. His enigmatic expression matched Niall’s, his easy charm reminiscent of Michael.

He returned his all-knowing gaze to Rose and gave her a courtly nod.

“It appears you have an eminent visitor, my queen,” Troy said to Ciar. “Have you offered your guest refreshment?”

Ciar huffed and wrinkled her nose. “She’s only human.”

Troy extended his hand toward Rose. She flushed as
his eyes met hers with subtle demand. “May I touch you, pisky Queen?”

Niall’s alarm sliced through her mind, breaking Troy’s spell. Rose blinked to clear her head. How could she refuse the request without causing offense? She shrugged helplessly. “I suppose so.”

Troy pressed two fingers against her wrist as if taking her pulse, and his eyelids drifted down. Mist filled her mind, soft as thistle down on a warm summer breeze. Rose sighed. Too soon he withdrew his hand and smiled. “Thank you, noble Queen.” He turned to Ciar and touched her hair. “Although the fairy characteristics are deeply hidden, her blood sings with the music of the Good People.”

Ciar scowled. “Huh!” She pivoted toward Niall and extended her hand. “If I must be imposed upon, I want recompense.”

Niall pulled a small package from his pocket and held it out. She gave him a self-satisfied smile, unfolded the silk wrapping, and held the gold medallion up to the light. “An original?”

“Of course. Only the best for my queen.” Niall uttered the correct words, but the steel in his voice cut the air.

Troy leveled a warning look at him, and the skin on the back of Rose’s neck crawled as the two men eyed each other. She sensed that, given half a chance, they’ tear each other apart. Was this why Niall had wanted to return? To settle old scores?

Troy instructed someone to provide Rose with food and drink, then guided Ciar across the white marble floor toward a dais beside the velvet-draped windows at the end of the room. As Ciar mounted the platform, everyone in the room paused and dropped to one knee
while she plopped down onto an ornate gold throne; then the chatter in the room resumed.

Rose eyed Troy as he positioned himself behind Ciar’s throne. “What’s your father to the queen?” she asked Niall.

“Her bodyguard, her champion. Offend Ciar, and ’tis likely you get to fight Troy.”

That tallied with what Michael had told her. But Rose was sure Troy had more power than Niall was letting on. She felt as though he’d mesmerized her with his voice, and Ciar had calmed down when he spoke.

“It was not a good idea to let Troy touch you, lass. If he sensed our bond, they may use the fact against you. You must have guessed I’m not too popular here.”

“I didn’t feel him in my mind,” she replied defensively. She glanced down and smoothed her dress. It would be embarrassing if Troy had read her thoughts. They contained fantasies about Niall that she certainly didn’t want his father to know about.

Niall beckoned to Jacca while the curious crowd surrounded them like spectators at a zoo. “Take Rose to a safe corner, and keep the lass out of trouble.”

He glanced at Rose. “’Tis too late now to be worrying what Troy sensed. Don’t talk to Ciar again until I’ve finished me business with her.” He stared at his boots. “’Tis possible I won’t be returning to En gland with you.”

“Niall—”

“Listen, Rose Tremain.” He squeezed her hand, for once a shimmer of emotion in his eyes. “I wish things could have unfolded differently.” He cast a fierce look at the watching crowd, and they backed away. “Promise me one thing. If I’m not able to return, when
you reestablish the Cornish troop, will you allow Ana to live among them?”

“Why wouldn’t you come back?” Rose reached out to him with her mind and sensed an endless abyss of darkness. They’ never spoken of their link, but they’ both used the connection. “You’re shutting me out.”

Pain grazed his face. “I’ve withdrawn, ’tis all. I want to spare you, lass.”

“Spare me what?”

Niall shook his head and glanced at Jacca. “Keep her busy for a while. You understand me meaning?”

Jacca nodded and draped his arm around Rose’s shoulders as Niall pushed through the crowd toward the dais.

Foreboding clutched her gut. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Before Jacca could answer, a young man bowed before them. “As Troy instructed, a feast has been laid out for the pisky queen in the jeweled parlor. Would you be so good as to follow me?”

“Come, Rosenwyn.” Jacca turned her toward the door. “Maybe Michael will join us.”

Rose shrugged away his arm. “Don’t treat me like an idiot.” She rubbed her temples and tried to clear her mind. Since Troy had touched her, she felt as though her brain were full of cotton wool. “Tell me what Niall’s doing.”

Jacca let his hair fall across his face and shrugged.

Michael sauntered up, a cigarette in one hand and a silver goblet in the other. When he stopped and grinned, he swayed unsteadily. “You’re looking grand to night, darlin’.”

“Snap out of it, Michael. I want some answers.”
Rose pointed toward the dais. “What’s your brother doing?”

Michael followed the direction of her finger, and they watched Niall drop to one knee before the queen.

Troy stiffened at Niall’s approach and adjusted his stance, hands ready at his sides in a posture she’d seen Niall assume when he expected trouble. She’d be willing to bet the wide velvet cuffs of Troy’s jacket concealed weapons.

Niall exchanged words with Ciar. Rose strained unsuccessfully to hear over the hum of conversation. Ciar smirked and glanced in Rose’s direction, her gold eyes flaring in triumph. What ever was going on, Ciar was too damn happy about it. Rose glanced at Jacca and Michael. “I’m going closer so I can hear what they’re saying.”

“No, Rosenwyn,” Jacca said.

Rose strode forward and halted a short distance from the dais, remaining among the crowd so Niall wouldn’t see her.

Niall bowed his head to Ciar. The fairy queen smiled, sharp as broken glass, and rested her hand on his head. Flames licked around her fingers, and the tendons in Niall’s neck stood out. Hot flashes of fear shot up Rose’s spine, and her scalp burned in sympathy. Surely if the fire were an illusion it wouldn’t hurt him, but it looked so real.

Rose twisted her hands together, mentally reached toward Niall, and hit a solid wall of darkness. This time he was definitely shutting her out. Desperate to know what Ciar was so pleased about, Rose glanced from the queen to Troy. Niall’s father was no longer braced for a fight. He gripped the back of his queen’s chair, knuckles white. His eyes were fixed on Niall.

Niall didn’t move, didn’t utter a sound. After a few minutes, Ciar huffed and snatched her hand back. “You’re no fun, scald crow.” She glanced behind her and beckoned to two guards stationed in the corners of the room. “Take Niall to my chamber and lash him to the bedposts.”

Michael wandered up. He sighed, and the mask of drunken fool fell away. Rose stared at the lines of tension around his mouth and wondered how much of his behavior was an act. “May the spirits of the old gods give Niall strength.”

“Why’s she having him tied up in her room?” The question sounded naive, but she really hoped Ciar wasn’t planning what she suspected.

The glitter of pain in Michael’s eyes as he watched the guards approach Niall sent shivers through her. “Even for me, submitting to Ciar is trying. For me brother…” He shook his head.

Ciar looked up; her triumphant gaze arrowed through the crowd and fixed on Rose. “The scald crow will sing me a pretty song when I place my hands on more delicate parts of his anatomy.”

Anger swelled inside Rose until her muscles vibrated at the thought of that horrible little woman touching Niall…hurting him. “Why the hell’s he letting her do this?” she snapped.

Michael pressed his lips together, and for a second his fierce expression made him resemble Niall. “This here’s what he came back for. If he doesn’t submit to the queen, she’ll keep threatening to hurt Ana. Tristan used to cast spells to hide the wee lass, but he won’t help us again.”

The truth sucker punched Rose. She pressed a fist to her belly. “I should have known Niall was involved
with my father only because he had no choice. This is my fault, isn’t it?”

Jacca touched her shoulder. “Easy, Rosenwyn. This is Niall’s choice. Come away. He didn’t want you to watch.”

The two guards grabbed Niall’s arms, pulled them behind his back, and looped silver chains around his body.

Niall’s choice?
Impossible. He always wanted to be in control. She remembered the Justice card she’d pulled for him. He was the dispenser of justice, not the victim. He must hate this. Rose hated it. A thread of fire burned through her body like a fuse stuck in dynamite. Mentally she pushed outward, followed the sizzling wire toward Niall, smashed through the barrier he’d erected to keep her out of his mind, and fell into the churning nausea and pain of his humiliation.