Carnal Magic: The Wraith Accords, Book 1 Page 8

  Niamh’s attention was focuses on Isabel, and after a moment’s study she smiled. Isabel had a horrible feeling that despite her best effort to appear nonchalant the princess knew that the idea of Aed being tortured panicked Isabel. Especially since it would be her fault—she’d paid too much attention to Aed and made him a pawn to be used against her.

  “Fenians are strong.” Princess Niamh beckoned Aed over. “I can make the game last for hours.”

  Chapter Seven

  Aed took a knee before the princess, resigned to the pain to come. He wished he’d had a chance to eat or sleep—both those things would help him control his reactions. It would not do to appear easily broken. He was a Fenian, son of Goll, and had a reputation to uphold.

  “Your Highness, before you begin, please designate another of the Fianna to guard the ambassador, in case I am not able after your…game.” He kept his head down as he spoke. He didn’t want to see Isabel’s face.

  Niamh sighed. “Fionn?”

  “Niamh, are you really going to abuse Aed?” The prince sounded pained.

  “Why not?”

  “He is a warrior of the Fianna.”

  “So? I’ve done it before, and the Fianna don’t really do anything anymore. I won’t hurt his arms or legs. He’ll still be able to fight.”

  Aed caught Prince Fionn’s wince in his peripheral vision. The princess was both coddled and vicious. The queen rarely allowed her outside the palace, and she knew very little about how the world worked. Like so many inside Tara, she was unaware of the dangers facing the Tuatha de Danaan.

  “Your insult the Fianna, sister. Watch your words.”

  Niamh slapped Aed. The blow was unexpected and Aed’s head snapped to the side. Slight as she was, the Princess of Winter wielded great strength.

  “I’ll do with him what I want.”

  The floor beneath Aed’s knees rumbled. He might have thought it was his imagination, or the effect of his still-ringing head, if Cairbe hadn’t jumped to his feet.

  “Get out, all of you.” The prince’s order had an instant effect. Everyone but the royal family, Aed and Isabel darted from the receiving room. In a matter of moments everyone was gone, the Tuatha de Danaan scurrying back to their homes. The high houses all had residences in the palace, and some of the lower houses lived outside the castle but within the walls, while others had chambers in the sídhe. Only a few had residences outside the walls on the cliffs adjacent to the one on which the castle sat.

  Aed got to his feet, hand on his sword. “I will take the ambassador to her room.”

  Cairbe’s face was pale. “Thank you, Aed. Please forgive my sister.”

  “Do not apologize for me. What’s happening?” Niamh was looking between her brothers.

  The ground rumbled again.

  Aed grabbed Isabel’s wrist. “My lady, we must go.”

  “Fionn, take care of Niamh.” Cairbe’s elegant garments melted away to be replaced by armor.

  “Brother, tell me what the threat is and I will help you.” A sword appeared in Fionn’s hand.

  “I can’t. Just keep Niamh safe.”

  The princes’ conversation faded as Aed and Isabel exited into the throne room.

  Isabel tugged her wrist from Aed’s grip. When he looked back, mouth open to demand that she hurry, she picked up her skirt with both hands, sliding the fitted part higher up her legs so she had greater range of motion.

  “I’ll move faster this way.”

  He nodded. “Do you have other clothes?”

  “I can’t create things from thin air like you do.”

  “Stay close.” At an intersection Aed peered around the corner before motioning her to follow. “We don’t create things from the air.”

  “Really? Because I saw it happen.”

  “We move things. They exist somewhere else in Tara. We only move them from place to place.” Aed opened his senses as much as he dared, hoping he’d feel trouble before they ran into it.

  “So when the banquet tables disappeared?”

  “They were sent to the kitchen workrooms.”

  “That certainly saves time in clearing the table.”

  The castle rumbled again.

  “Is it an earthquake?” Isabel’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

  “No.”

  “Am I in danger?”

  Aed hesitated. “Maybe.”

  “Will you protect me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you ordered to kill me? Is that why you let in the sunlight?”

  Aed stopped to face her, glad she’d asked the question directly. “No. But I let my guard down after we…uh…”

  Isabel’s lips twitched. “After we made love.”

  “Made love?” Aed cleared his throat.

  Isabel touched his cheek—the cheek Niamh had slapped. “What would you call it?” She pulled her hand back and her fingers were tipped in blood. Aed hadn’t realized the princess’s blow had split his lip, leaving a trail of blood on his face.

  “I…don’t know.”

  “Sex is too clinical a term for what we had.”

  Aed cupped her cheek, mimicking her movement. “I failed you. I did not protect you.”

  “And I did not listen when you wanted to explain.”

  He searched her face. “What made you think differently?”

  “I realized during the feast that burning was too clumsy and unpredictable a method of execution for someone like you to use. As I said, I’m sure that if you meant to kill me it would be something much more refined.”

  “If I needed to kill you there would be no way to stop me.”

  Isabel smirked. “You don’t know all my tricks.”

  “I know I have no desire to be bitten by you. Will Evon survive?” Aed would not forget the image of the boy writhing in pain under Isabel.

  Isabel ducked away from his hand, then carefully wiped her bloody fingers on the hem of her skirt. Something about the set of her shoulders made him think he’d hurt her feelings.

  “I’m not a poisonous snake. Of course he will survive.”

  Aed winced. “I’m sorry, my lady. I meant no offense.”

  When she didn’t respond, he motioned for her to follow and they resumed their trek through Tara.

  Isabel considered telling Aed the truth about what she’d done, but didn’t. Aed was the closest thing she had to an ally in this strange place, but anything she told him would in turn be told to others. Best to keep secrets, though she couldn’t prevent Evon from saying something. Considering how much saliva she’d forced into him, he might not remember her touch at all.

  They walked for several minutes in silence. The corridors were deserted, though unlike the first night each was well lit with evenly spaced torches. After seeing the crowd in the throne room, it was eerie that they hadn’t run across someone else.

  “It was kind of you to try to fix his hand.”

  Aed’s comment took her by surprise. “The bones are in place, but if the tendons are shredded what I did won’t help.”

  “Tuath can heal almost anything. I only hope Deocha doesn’t mangle the boy again out of spite.”

  “Evon is from one of the lower houses?”

  “Yes, and he is not the main line of that house, so he has very little protection.”

  “And Deocha’s house?”

  “A high house. They mourn the loss of the Tuatha de’s power, and their own.”

  “What power was lost?”

  The ground shook, this time hard enough that Isabel fell. Aed stumbled into the wall.

  A door appeared in the stone beside Aed’s shoulder. Brown furred hands came out of the darkness, grabbing Aed by the collar of his armor. He was jerked back through the doorway, which promptly closed and disappeared.

  Isabel
stared at the wall in shock. Aed was gone, simply gone.

  She scrambled to her feet, running shaky hands along the wall. The polished stone was smooth and cool under her fingers. There were no seams in the rock, no telltale drafts.

  She pounded against the wall. “Aed!”

  The trepidation she’d felt when she first realized how large and elaborate Tara was, how vulnerable she would be if she got lost in the dangerous maze, flared into full panic. But it wasn’t just panic for herself that had Isabel breathing fast—she was terrified for Aed. Had the princess grabbed him to torture him as a way of hurting her? Had he been taken by the unknown enemy who’d manipulated him into opening the door?

  “Aed!” She paced along the wall, her palms skimming the stone, hoping she’d find a way to follow him.

  “Do you know the way?”

  Isabel stilled, her hands planted against the wall, fingers spread. The voice had come from behind her, close enough that the whisper was easily understood.

  “Know the way to what?” Isabel asked, deceptively calm.

  “The way out.”

  This time she was able to pinpoint where the woman—the voice was definitely female—was standing. Isabel stepped out of her heels, balancing on the balls of her feet in preparation for a fight.

  She kept her back to the stranger. “The way out of the palace? I’m not the person you should ask.”

  “The way out of Fae.”

  Before the woman had finished speaking, Isabel was spinning. The speaker wore a long cloak with a hood. She stumbled back when Isabel moved. There was a blast of wind that buffeted Isabel, but it wasn’t strong enough to halt her forward momentum.

  Isabel caught the figure by the shoulder, shoving her back against the opposite wall of the corridor. Hissing, fangs bared, Isabel jerked the hood down, expecting to see one of the women who’d been lounging on the couches.

  The tie to the cloak broke from the force of Isabel’s movement, the heavy velvet falling to the floor and revealing the figure beneath.

  A dark-haired woman stared at Isabel with defiant eyes. She wore brown trousers, a long sleeved shirt and a brown lace vest with a silver crest on the breast. There were patches on the knees of the pants and the shirt was dirty—not recently soiled, but the kind of staining that came from long use and infrequent washing. Her hair was short, the ends uneven around her neck. She wore no make-up and a single tight-fitting gold bracelet.

  The woman’s face was lovely, but without the haunting beauty that seemed common here. She also looked older than the other females Isabel had met—if she were human she would have been forty.

  Human.

  Isabel leaned in and took a deep breath, inhaling the woman’s scent. With a start she jerked back. “You’re human.”

  The woman licked her lips, then spoke, this time in English instead of French. “You can tell?”

  “Who are you?” Isabel replied in the same language.

  “Please, is it true that the vampires know how to get out of Fae?”

  Isabel searched the woman’s face, trying desperately to understand. “I thought that there were no humans in Fae. I thought the Tuatha de lost their connection with humanity and that’s why they…” Isabel didn’t finish the thought, distracted by the rage that had transformed the woman’s face.

  “Lost their connection? Is that what they told you?”

  “Who are you?”

  “Is it true? The vampires have a way out?”

  Should she tell this unexpected human the truth? The portals weren’t secret—they were a main part of the Wraith Accords—so why didn’t this woman know that?

  “In the Vampire city there are doorways to the human world.” Isabel decided it was better to give some information in hopes of getting some in return.

  “And the human world, is it still at war?”

  “War? There are many wars—what war do you mean?”

  She frowned. “The Great War.”

  Isabel blinked. “The World War?”

  “Yes. Is it still going on?”

  “No. It’s been over for a hundred years.”

  “A…a hundred years.” The woman jerked out of Isabel’s hold. She closed her eyes, lip quavering slightly.

  “Who are you? When were you born?”

  The woman crouched and reached for the cloak, slowly gathering it to her, clutching it as if for comfort. She pressed her hand to the wall. A door like the one Aed had been pulled into appeared. “Please don’t tell them.” The human ducked inside, the wall sealing shut behind her.

  Isabel stared at the spot where the woman had been.

  There was a clatter and then Aed stumbled into the corridor. His hair was mussed, and there was a bandage over the cut at the corner of his mouth. He held his sword in one hand and a biscuit in the other.

  A biscuit?

  Isabel stared at Aed, who returned her baffled regard.

  With a sigh he looked down, then held out his hand. “Biscuit?”

  Isabel looked baffled. “Where were you?”

  Realizing Isabel wasn’t in any danger and probably didn’t want the biscuit, he popped it into his mouth. He needed his hand free to protect her, after all. Aed finished eating his cookie before replying. “There are hidden servants’ corridors running throughout the castle.”

  Isabel shook her head as if she were confused. “Why do you have a cookie?”

  “They gave me a cookie.”

  “The servants?”

  “Yes.”

  Isabel sighed. “I thought you’d been kidnapped and were being tortured.”

  “For a moment I thought the same thing about you.”

  “So you decided to eat a cookie?” Isabel rolled her eyes and laughed, then slipped on her shoes, which lay on the floor by the wall. “It’s a good thing I can take care of myself.”

  “No, I realized it was just a mistake. When I hit the wall, the aos sí must have thought I was knocking to be let in. They wanted to bandage me and then well…biscuits.” He would have immediately returned to Isabel if he’d thought she were in danger. But he’d been mobbed by well-meaning servants who were clearly excited that a Fenian had come to them looking for help. That and he was starving. He’d eaten a dozen biscuits and was feeling much better for it.

  “The who?”

  “The aos sí.” Aed motioned for her to follow. “I think today the humans call them fairies or fae.”

  “So fairies are real?”

  “What do your books say, Sage?” Aed smiled back at her, and when she returned the smile Aed’s heart gave a traitorous thump.

  “There are more stories and accounts than there are stars in the sky. Much of what is written about your people, and the fairies, was written by Christian monks. I know firsthand that they often took liberties and inserted their own god into the stories.”

  “It was not easy when the followers of Christ came west to the sea. Much of our history was lost, even to us. The battles that raged both here and in the human realm took their tolls.”

  “So who are the aos sí?”

  “They are from the human world—spirits of the trees and earth. Some have forms like humans, some have the forms of animals. When the first Tuatha de met them, they saw the magic in the aos sí and taught them to speak and use their skills. They became a part of us, and we of them. You asked before if we were seen as gods and we were, to both humans and fairy.”

  “If they’re from the human realm, and you still have a connection with them, then why do you need us?”

  “When we lost the battle and retreated to the sídhe—the mounds—the fairy were able to stay among the humans. They were part of the mortal realm in a way we were not, but soon they too had to seek asylum here. They were painted as ghouls by the new religion. Those that chose not to come to Fae were hunted down and
murdered. A few escaped, but time and distance from their true homes has taken its toll. They are not what they once were.”

  “In that case I’m very sorry, for all of you.”

  “Someday I’d like to see what the humans remember of us, what they wrote of us. You say they remember the Fianna?”

  “They do, as brave warriors, and I’ve heard that little boys in Ireland play games pretending to be members of your brave order.”

  Aed shook his head. “Then perhaps not so much has changed.”

  “The games of children seem ageless.” Isabel fell silent while he checked the next corridor.

  Though it was empty Aed’s senses tingled. The castle was pulsing with power and magic, making it hard for him to detect anything. It was like listening for a bird’s chirp while standing amid the roar of crashing waves. After a moment he shook his head slightly and motioned for them to continue.

  When Aed waved her forward, the tension that had radiated off of him a second ago disappearing, she asked the question she’d been holding in. “And there are no humans here?”

  “No. Humans cannot live in our world—the magic here is too much for them.”

  Isabel’s stomach clenched. Either he was lying or he was unaware of the human woman’s presence. It was clear that the woman had orchestrated Aed’s disappearance in order to talk to her, so the servants, the aos sí, clearly knew about the human. Was it possible that Aed was unaware, or was her connection to him such that she was unable to see through his lies? Less than two days ago he’d tried to expose her to sunlight, and yet she’d justified that away.

  Seeing Princess Niamh’s behavior toward Aed confirmed what he’d told Isabel—that among his people he was seen more as a servant with a sword than anything. She’d had to hold herself back from ripping the princess’s throat out when she struck Aed. Isabel felt strangely protective of the big warrior, and the panic she’d felt when he disappeared indicated that her feelings ran deeper than was safe.

  But Isabel was Vampire. Her allegiance was to her kind and to Duke Drakul. Whatever happened between her and Aed, she couldn’t lose sight of why she was here, especially now that she suspected the Tuatha de Danaan were far more unstable than the Vampire knew.