Cast in Faefire: An Urban Fantasy Romance (The Mage Craft Series Book 3) (4 page)

Nothing at all.

Yet the giant hole in his chest was hurting more than it had since he’d been eaten by the Hounds.

“
W
e’ll assassinate her
,” Konig said. “Assassinate, dismember, and display her head atop the walls of Myrkheimr. I’ll see her skewered for this!”

Marion reclined on the throne, massaging her temples to relax the headache holding her skull in a vise. It had started with the Raven Knights’ unsuccessful attempt to seize Deirdre, but it continued because Konig had been ranting about murder for the last hour.

Jibril’s arrival hadn’t helped assuage his temper, either. The normally calm angel was only feeding into Konig’s fire.

“You might have to settle for a less-favored appendage,” Jibril said. “I want her head on a pike in Dilmun.” That was the angel city in the Ethereal Levant. Marion had only ever seen it through Leliel’s memories, but if it was head-on-a-pike territory, she didn’t want to visit in person.

“We could bisect her head and each take half,” Konig suggested.

Marion rolled her eyes. “You can’t kill a phoenix.” Violet had explained Deirdre’s nature as soon as the shifter had departed.

“Actually, you can,” Heather said. She’d been summoned by Konig’s rage along with the Knights, and now she was skinning the dead Hound at the end of the hall. “A phoenix is rumored to be easier to kill than other shifters. The problem is that they have a nasty habit of coming back sooner or later.”

“Even coming back ‘later’ would be preferable to having her strip my title,” Konig snarled. “She only needs to be dead until the vote!”

Violet didn’t say anything, but the magic shimmering over her porcelain skin was distinctly smug. The fact that she’d resisted saying “I told you so” was even more miraculous than a phoenix shifter’s ability to be reborn from death.

“We can’t assassinate Deirdre,” Marion said, more firmly the second time.

“Heather can arrange it,” Konig said.

“It’s true, I can,” Heather agreed.

Marion lifted her head from her hands. “We won’t kill Deirdre over this—not least of all because it would be ineffective. She’d just be replaced by Jolene.” Jolene liked Marion as little as anyone else that she’d encountered. Worse, Jolene was, despite being described as “good people,” the kind of person who sneaked into the Niflheimr dungeons in search of the darknet.

“I won’t give up my title,” Konig said.

“You won’t need to,” Marion said. “We can lobby for votes the way that Deirdre will.”

“Let me remind you that ten of twelve of your ilk already think that Konig’s position as prince is something that should be voted upon,” Violet said. “The odds are hardly in your favor.”

“I can’t believe you signed such a thing on behalf of the angels without first consulting me,” Jibril said, turning his anger on Marion now. She was a much more convenient target than Deirdre.

“Blame Leliel,” Marion said. “She’s the one who made me speaker.”

Jibril pulled his wings tightly against his back. “Oh, I do blame Leliel. I blame her for a great many things.” The angels had been quick to disassociate themselves from Leliel’s attack on the Winter Court. Leliel was leader in the EL, and that leadership came with power, just as Marion’s stewardship came with ties to Niflheimr. It didn’t necessarily come with loyalty.

Jibril had been in the throne room almost daily to foster goodwill. He’d all but kissed Konig’s feet to avoid the wrath of the sidhe. No actual foot-kissing had happened, but Jibril had agreed to perform Konig and Marion’s wedding ceremony in a public display of peace.

“I won’t be bullied,” Konig said. “Especially not in regards to something so important to me.” He took Marion’s hand, brushing his lips over the knuckles. It reminded her of their long day in bed together. The mere memory of it weakened her knees. “We need to have Deirdre Tombs killed.”

Marion used his hand to help her stand from the throne. “We must do this the right way. I have connections among every faction—even if I don’t remember them. I’ll pull strings and convince everyone to vote in our favor.”

“I don’t know if that’s the better outcome,” the angel said. “What if Deirdre Tombs is right? What if your marriage makes the gods angry? What if this leads to another Genesis-like event?”

“We can risk gods who are meant to love me destroying the world over my wedding,” Marion said, “or we can be sure that the Winter Court will fall, and there won’t be anything to keep Leliel from killing us all. One is a gamble and one is a guarantee.”

“Lobbying for votes among factions who hate you is a hell of a gamble too, princess,” Konig said.

It was the truth, but it still stung. “We don’t have to be likable. We have to be compelling.”

Violet smiled bitterly. It looked especially vacant with her whited-out eyes. “In that case, I suppose I should get back to planning your wedding.”

* * *

B
efore entering
the weeks-long recovery that had followed bleeding into the soul links, Marion had made a few important wedding decisions. She’d explored Niflheimr for a location that was structurally safe, relatively warm, and distant from the carnage that Leliel had wreaked upon the courtyard. Marion had found a chamber in one of the towers adjacent that met all requirements perfectly.

Whatever role the room had served before the revolution, nobody seemed to know. It was vast and empty and connected to the visitors’ bedrooms by a hallway. Privately, Marion suspected the Winter Court had used it for orgies. The sidhe liked to use everything for orgies.

Violet had needed Marion’s permission to make substantial changes to Niflheimr, but a few drops of blood later, the chamber had yielded control to the visiting queen. She’d managed to make things grow in the ice. Trees. Vines. Even furniture. The mere presence of flora seemed to have brought humidity with it, and dampness clung to every corner.

After Jibril left, Violet threw herself back into the magical labor of modifying the wedding venue. Nori was helping—or so she claimed. For the time being, helping seemed to be following Violet around and keeping track of her executive decisions so she’d be able to update the happy couple on what was transpiring.

Marion watched with reluctant amusement, hanging back where several benches were stacked in a pile. She knew better than to get involved when Violet was urging the ice to turn into perpetual waterfalls flanking the altar where the vows would be exchanged.

“You can’t fault your mother for her vision,” Marion said, trying to force a smile for Konig. The trees shivered as he stalked toward her. Sidhe didn’t skimp on sex, and they didn’t skimp on temper tantrums, either.

“Maybe Deirdre Tombs is right,” Konig said. “Maybe our marriage is damned by the gods.”

Marion glanced at Violet, who was conducting more seats to grow from the floor near the front of the room. They were like wooden vines wrapping together, forming into the shape of seats more perfectly than any careful hand-carving could have.

She drew Konig further away, just in case his mother was listening.

“You don’t need to be afraid of losing your title as prince,” Marion whispered. “We won’t let it happen.”

“I’m not afraid of anything! But you must realize that we can’t leverage your relationships to lobby for votes. The wards on Niflheimr are already weak. If you keep leaving the plane to talk to people…”

“I’ll strengthen the soul links as many times as I need to. I’m feeling much better. I can spill a lot of blood again.”

“And need a wheelchair to attend your wedding?” He snorted. “That’s going to look fantastic on the cover of
Vogue
.”

“I won’t need to drain myself as much this time. We’re just a few days from the wedding.” Once Konig was married to the Winter Court’s steward, assuming the role of king, he’d be able to connect to the sidhe magic. He’d be able to recast everything. The wards would be strong, and neither of them would need to suffer major blood loss over it.

“If there will be any wedding at all,” Konig said.

“Are you reconsidering the wedding?”

“Not because of
her
, and what she might do to me. Because of what she said about the gods. Just because she’s an asshole doesn’t mean she isn’t also right. How do we know that this won’t make the gods come slamming down on us? When’s the last time you even talked to them?”

Marion could remember the exact moment she spoke to them—one of them, anyway. “When Seth brought me back here after Sheol. When he was in my bedroom.”

“You talked to the gods after that?”

“No, I talked to Seth when he was in my room.” She drew in a breath, clenched her fists, squared her shoulders. “Everything with the Canope was set up to force Seth to reveal himself as a god. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but it wasn’t my secret to tell.”

“Are you sure?” Konig asked. “You’re absolutely certain he’s a god?”

“I’d be the one who knows, wouldn’t I?”

She’d expected him to be angry that she waited so long to tell him. Instead, he looked relieved. “We’ve got a god on our side. An actual god! I knew I liked Seth for a reason.” Marion was confident that Konig hadn’t liked Seth until that moment. “That means we have another strategy for getting votes that doesn’t require you to leave Niflheimr unprotected!”

“We do?”

He was getting excited now. “What do you think Deirdre Tombs told ten preternatural leaders to convince them to this degree of control? She said this would protect them from the gods, and you’re not on the gods’ side anymore. But we’ve got one of them. We can prove her wrong.”

“He wouldn’t want everyone to know about him, Konig. He chose to live as a doctor for a reason.”

“He’s going to save us,” Konig said. It was like he’d gone deaf. “We should tell everyone. They’ll bend to us immediately.”

“No,” Marion said, appalled. “Don’t you realize how many people would blame him for Genesis? Please, Konig. Promise you’ll keep it a secret.”

His face fell. “Marion…”

“
Please
.”

“Only for you. Anything for you.” He kissed her temple. “I didn’t get a chance to ask you how things went with Geoff Samuelson.”

“Confusingly. He told me that the person who attacked me outside Original Sin was—okay, this will sound crazy. She had the head of a goat.”

“I don’t suppose your sister was fathered by a goat?”

Marion laughed. “No. It’s not my sister.”

“You must be relieved.”

Relieved wasn’t a strong enough word for it. Learning that her deity half-sister was out to get her would have been a much bigger problem than the one posed by Deirdre Tombs. “It’s confusing, as I said. Have you ever heard of a creature with the body of a person and the head of a goat?”

“I haven’t, but you might have a way to figure it out.” A sly smile crept across his lips. “If you were to lobby for votes, your first stop would be Rylie Gresham, wouldn’t it?”

“I hadn’t thought that far.”

“She’ll have computers with access to the OPA databases. Everything that they know can be searched through that. I’m certain that they’ve seen people with goat heads, if anyone has.”

It wasn’t a terrible idea, though it did have one major flaw. “I don’t know Rylie well enough to trust her with this information. Until I know who the goat-woman is and what, exactly, she did to me… I still don’t know who’s connected.” She twined her fingers through Konig’s. “You’re the only one I can trust with this information.”

His eyes warmed at that, and he squeezed her hand tightly.

The words he spoke next weren’t as warm. “Then don’t tell her about it. Just use her computer.” He brushed a kiss over her cheek, barely touching the corner of her lips. And then he went to Nori and Violet to help grow more trees for their wedding.

Gods.
Marion’s wedding. She was going to be married within days, and she was going to have to spend that time running around lobbying for votes.

To think Violet had told her those would be the happiest days of her life.

* * *

“
T
he ceremony will occur here
,” Violet said, lifting both hands in tandem. A new tree rose between the twin waterfalls. “You’ll stand here, and Marion will stand there.” Another gesture, and the icy floor turned to grass budding with flowers. “What do you think?”