House of Curses, page 29
“I couldn’t even bond with Tieran.”
“I know,” he breathed.
Then, she met his gaze and felt all the love radiating off of him, and suddenly, she knew. She just knew.
“I’ve heard of this, but it’s an old custom with dragons, where soul mates are joined. They call it a mating bond.”
His eyes were filled to the brim with devotion as he pulled her into him.
“You’re my mate,” he said.
“I’m your mate.”
41
The Decision
CLOVER
Clover exited the tavern and lit a match. She brought it to her loch cigarette, inhaling deeply. She’d need the moment to regroup with the night she’d been having.
Darby had come with her and Hadrian and a huge group of others to flood the streets in celebration. For a while, it had felt just like old times. The three of them, surrounded by others, drinking and dancing and partying.
But things weren’t the same.
Darby, for one, should never have come with them out into the streets. She was Fae nobility and betrothed to another. Clover had decided to ignore it for the time being. When she’d watched Darby get to her feet and applaud Kerrigan despite Trask’s disapproval, she’d fallen in love all over again. That was the female she’d fallen for, and it was the one she wanted to be with.
When Darby had joined them in the city, she’d thought maybe it would happen. Hadrian was on her arm. Dedicated, confident, and as stable as ever. She could be happy with him. She was happy with him. But they both knew she wanted Darby too.
A hand slipped around her waist. Hadrian pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “You ran away.”
“Too much fun,” Clover said. “I should be dealing at the Wastes tonight. Not out like this.”
“Let yourself have fun, Clove. You’ve earned it.”
She had nothing to say to that. She’d earned nothing. Dozan would likely be pissed that she hadn’t come straight back. Though he’d had his hands full the last couple weeks. She’d been there when Kerrigan brought Wynter in, and ever since, Dozan had been spending more and more time in the princess’ presence. She didn’t know if it was for her rehabilitation or for some other reason. Dozan hadn’t take a keen interest with anyone like this since Red.
That was good for Clover at least. Maybe he wouldn’t notice her absence.
A throat cleared behind them. Clover withdrew from Hadrian as Darby entered the mix.
She looked up at the pair of them through long lashes. “Might I have a word?”
“Not having fun?” Clover asked.
“In fact, I am.”
Hadrian grinned. “That’s good to hear, Darbs. We like having you here with us.”
“We do,” Clover confirmed. Though her words were laced with more. They always had been.
“That’s what I wanted to talk about,” Darby said.
She fiddled with her hands. The fidgeting was adorable, but Clover couldn’t stand it any longer.
She put her hands over Darby’s. “Just say what you need to say. You can say anything to us. You know that.”
Darby swallowed and raised her chin. “I’ve thought a lot about what you suggested.”
Clover felt her defenses rising. “What’s that again?”
“Be nice,” Hadrian warned.
“I’m always nice, sweetheart,” she teased with the old nickname she’d used to get a rise out of him before their relationship shifted.
His smile shot desire straight through her. Her toes curled.
“You suggested,” Darby said, clearing her throat, “that we have a relationship. The three of us.”
“And?”
“I told you that was impossible because I was engaged. I’d made my choice.” She straightened her shoulders. “But I’ve changed my mind.”
Clover looked at her in blatant shock. “You have?”
“Yes. I … I want this. I want you.” Her gaze shifted from Clover to Hadrian and back. “I want everything you’re offering. I know it might be too late, but I can’t keep doing this. I thought I would be happy if I had everything I had worked for—nobility, a tribe, a husband. But I’m more miserable than I ever was. I can’t go on like this. Trask is … I hate him. I couldn’t ever imagine marrying him. Sonali is going to hate me, and maybe you already hate me for that choice, but I have to do what is best for me.” Darby looked up uncertainly. “Do you hate me?”
Clover tilted Darby’s chin up and pressed their mouths together. She tasted like cheap ale and the land of the gods. She was divine in every way.
Clover should have stopped her in the middle of her tirade to tell her that it was never too late. Never. But she had liked to hear her ramble about her decision. Plus, it had confirmed everything Clover had feared for Darby. That she was only doing it to please the nobility and that marrying an oaf of a Fae like that would be the end of her. She couldn’t stand by and let that happen to Darby. Not if she could help it.
And she had helped it. Now she was claiming her lips for her own. As they were always meant to be.
“Oh,” Darby whispered, touching her lips when Clover pulled away. “Oh dear.”
“I want you,” Clover said. She reached for Hadrian’s hand. “I want both of you.”
Hadrian turned Clover’s face toward him, and they kissed, deep and passionate. “I want this too.”
They turned as one to offer Darby their hands. Her eyes were wide and frightened, but finally, she put her hand in theirs, and Clover drew her in tight.
“I’ve got you,” Clover told her. “You’re mine now.”
“Ours,” Hadrian said.
Darby tilted her head up and met each of their gazes. “Yes, I am yours.”
Clover held her people close. She’d dreamed of this moment for longer than she could remember. Never believing it was possible for it to happen.
She knew the world would not be kind. Two Fae in love with a human. They would never allow it when it came right down to it. And she also knew that she would do anything to protect them.
Her father’s necklace seemed to pulse against her chest at that thought. As if it read her thoughts and her intention of protection and gave her strength to endure. Maybe Thea was right. Maybe it was worth pursuing the necklace—amulet—if it meant fighting for the right to love whoever she wanted. The right to keep these two safe.
42
The Snitch
ARBOR
The cell was tiny.
Only large enough for her to walk a half-dozen paces in one direction and a half-dozen paces forward. Worse, it was made from iron. Her throat constricted when she thought about it, and her magic sputtered before disappearing entirely. She’d never had the sort of magic that Fordham and Wynter could wield. That sort of power had always been beyond her. She had relied her on her schemes and pretty smiles and cleavage to get what she wanted. But now that it had buried itself so deep that she couldn’t access it, she missed it more than ever.
She couldn’t understand how she had gotten here.
This wasn’t her fault.
Fordham had gotten her out of Lethbridge. She was the one to get her and Prescott to the city. They had started new. The past was the past. She shouldn’t be here.
“Let me out!” she yelled again.
Her hands touched the bars, and she hissed, retreating.
“Arbor,” Prescott called.
“Pres!”
They’d been separated by the guards. She was thrown into this iron cell, and he was taken far away. She’d called for him and called for him. She hated most being parted from him.
“Everything is going to be all right,” he called.
He sounded about a dozen cells away from her. Maybe more. She had no real concept of the size of the dungeons beneath the mountain. But she had to assume they were endless. Maybe his voice just carried this far.
“How could Fordham do this to us?”
Prescott was silent for a moment before saying, “I don’t know. It’s a misunderstanding. Someone will come talk to us, and we’ll get out of this.”
She hoped he was right. But it had been hours, and no one had come for them. Not even to offer food or water. They’d left her a bucket. A bucket.
She shuddered.
“I miss you,” she called to her brother.
“I miss you too,” he said.
And then they both fell silent.
Hours passed. No one came for them. Nothing moved in the dark.
Then, a light appeared at the end of the hall she had come through, and four figures appeared before her. Two of them were standard-issue guards. The same sort who had dragged her into this cell. The other two wore official Society uniforms. The female she didn’t recognize, but the male had stood on the stage with Kerrigan at the ceremony—Master Bastian.
“Please,” Arbor said, rising to her feet and shuffling forward as close as she would get to the iron.
“You can leave us here,” the female said, dismissing the guards. “I am Mistress Corinna, chief of the guard. This is Master Bastian of the Society council. We have some questions for you. Will you comply?”
She nodded as tears came to her eyes. “Of course. This is all a mistake. It’s a huge misunderstanding. We shouldn’t be here.”
“So, you didn’t help King Samael and Princess Wynter Ollivier orchestrate the Battle of Lethbridge?”
“Of course not,” she gasped, letting tears come to her eyes. It was a simple trick that she’d perfected. Anyway, she was scared enough to say and do anything to get out of this.
“We have multiple witnesses who confessed that you were the brains behind the operation,” Corinna said. “That you pushed them to attack. That you committed treason. And then you showed up in the city. What do you expect us to think now that you’re in Kinkadia?”
“We just wanted to start over,” Arbor gasped. “Fordham was the one who got us out of the city.”
Bastian held his hand up. “We have already spoken with Master Fordham. He admitted to releasing you but assured us you were supposed to go into hiding. It is a problem we will address with him. It does not change the fact that we worry you were conspiring to harm the Society in our own city.”
“What?” Arbor gasped. “Why would you think that?”
“You were being followed,” Corinna said. “We have you at no less than three Red Masks meetings.”
Arbor’s face went deathly pale. Then, a thought occurred to her. “I have information. Information about the Red Masks. I will tell you everything that I know about them.”
“So you don’t deny that you were at the meetings?” Corinna demanded.
Arbor realized her slip too late. But she couldn’t back down now. She lifted her chin. “Do you want the information or not?”
Bastian’s eyes hardened. “And what do you want out of this?”
“Let me out of here. Pardon my crimes and my brother’s crimes. I’ll help you.” When neither Corinna nor Bastian seemed to jump at the chance, she threw out her trump card. “I met the Father.”
Corinna’s eyes widened at that. “The Father? The leader of the Red Masks?”
“Yes.”
“And you could identify him?” Bastian asked deathly low.
Arbor looked him in the eyes and smiled dangerously. She had them. Hook, line, and sinker. “Absolutely I could identify him.”
It didn’t matter that it was a lie. It didn’t matter what this Master Bastian thought. If it got her out of this cell, then she would tell them everything they wanted to know and more. She’d lie through her teeth to survive the day. She knew what the penalty was for treason.
Then, Bastian smiled. It was a cold, deadly thing. It sent shivers down Arbor’s back. No one had ever looked at her like that. As if she had issued her own death sentence.
“I think I’ve heard all that I need,” Bastian said. “She’s yours, Corinna. Get everything out of her that you can.”
“I intend to do just that,” Corinna said.
Then, Bastian ambled away. Arbor followed his gait with interest. She had never paid much attention to the way the man moved, but it was so familiar. Shockingly familiar. Why did it tickle at the back of her mind?
“Arbor, let’s begin,” Corinna said.
She let the thought pass.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
And Arbor divulged every scrap of information she had. Anything to save herself and Prescott from hanging. Anything to get ahead.
43
The Spy
Kerrigan woke the next morning in a feather cloud. Her arm was thrown over a muscled chest. Her head pillowed against his shoulder. Her body encased in the down of their bed.
Their bed.
The bed she shared with her mate.
She listened to his heart beat a staccato in his chest as she slowly came back to herself. She certainly could get used to waking up like this every morning. The mountain was nice. It had everything she could ever need … except privacy. This townhouse was their own microcosm, where no one and nothing could interfere.
“Morning,” he groaned, rolling toward her.
“Morning yourself.”
He kissed across her shoulders and down over her breasts. “I hate to say it, but we need to get back.”
They were both still naked, and Kerrigan had other ideas about what they could do other than return to the mountain.
“Later,” she pleaded.
He stopped at her navel and looked up at her with those mercurial eyes. She read every line of devotion in them.
“Your wish is my command.”
She pushed him aside, rolling her hips over his and straddling him.
He smirked. “What are you going to do up there?”
“You said that next time was my turn.”
His eyes lit up as she lowered herself down his body. She’d never done this before, but she didn’t care. As soon as she took him in her mouth, the sounds of his pleasure filled the room, and nothing else seemed to matter. He came apart under her ministrations, emptying into her mouth. Then, he flipped her back over and brought her to climax as well.
Both lay sprawled across the bed in the lull after, momentarily sated, hearts racing as one.
Then, a knock sounded on the front door.
Kerrigan glanced at Fordham. “Who knows that you bought this?”
“No one,” he said.
“Should we answer?”
The knock came again, more urgently.
Fordham growled deep in the back of his throat. He reached for his clothes, tugging breeches and a shirt on. It took precious minutes to get the shirt tucked in and the jacket back on. He gave up on the cravat and marched downstairs.
There was no hope of Kerrigan getting back into her dress alone. She gave up and yanked the sheet around her body, letting it trail behind her as she followed him down the stairs to listen to their intruder.
“I know she’s here,” Valia declared. “Let me in, or I will get past you.”
Fordham growled, all primal male. Kerrigan was uncertain what exactly he would do after the night they’d had. She rushed off the stairs to intercept him.
“Let her pass, Ford,” Kerrigan said.
Fordham caught sight of her, and relief flickered across his features. “Fine.”
Valia bypassed him and stepped inside. She didn’t seem surprised to find Kerrigan in nothing but a sheet. Fordham slammed the door shut with force, rattling the sconces.
“Sorry to intrude. This is safer than approaching you at the mountain,” Valia said.
“How did you even find out about this place?” Fordham demanded.
Valia arched an eyebrow at him. “You act as if it’s difficult.”
“Spy,” Kerrigan said by way of explanation. “It’s sometimes disorienting.”
“So I’ve heard.” Valia gestured upstairs. “Shall I help you into your dress?”
“That would be helpful,” Kerrigan admitted and gestured for Valia to follow them upstairs. “Why are you here?”
Valia shot Fordham a look. “I assume you trust him.”
Fordham growled, low and menacing.
“With my life,” Kerrigan said. “Anything you say to me can be said to him. Is this about the Collector?”
Valia nodded as they entered the room. Kerrigan stepped into her dress, and Valia worked on tying her back into the elaborate attire. She wished she had something else to wear. It would be obvious what they had been up to that night if she walked into the mountain, wearing the gown from the night before. A problem for another time.
“I told you before that I had narrowed it down to certain key members. I’ve since settled on one particular house. The owner is known to have a vault. He brags of it. Though refuses to say what the contents are. I believe we can make a good guess as to what it is.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“Then, we keep looking,” Valia said. “But we’re short on time. We need to break in tonight.”
“How do we know that you’re not sending us into a trap?” Fordham snarled.
Valia tied off the dress and stepped back.
Kerrigan walked to Fordham and put a hand to his chest. “You have to trust her. We’ve come this far together.”
“You don’t have to trust me,” Valia said evenly. “You can leave all of this behind. You can let the Father destroy your world as he destroyed mine. No one will oppose him when the time comes. If that is what you want, then don’t trust me. Return to your bed and do nothing.”
Fordham’s body tensed at those words. “That is not what we wish.”
“I thought not,” Valia said.
“Why don’t you break into the house? You’re a spy. Can’t you get into a house and open a vault?”
Valia tilted her head. “I can. But I have elsewhere I have to be tonight.”
