Fire Kin (12 page)

“We will find out who did this, my lady.” His voice was savage. “No one can bring harm to one of the Family on our lands and not pay.”

I nodded. “I'll be interested to hear what you discover. Don't let my father kill them outright.”

Not until I had a chance to question them at least. For one thing, I was very interested in who the target might have been. Me? My father? Or Ash perhaps? As far as I knew, there hadn't been an attack on our lands for a very long time. And yet here we were, not yet a day after Ash had set foot back in the Veiled World, and I'd almost been blown to smithereens. Wonderful. Yet another benefit of his return. Though maybe that was unfair of me.

“Your father has been notified. He will meet you back at the house.”

“In that case, perhaps I can get the healer to give something to knock me out,” I said wryly. I wasn't looking forward to discussing these events with my father. He was likely to be in one of his rages. Even harder to deal with than usual. Not to mention that pulling him away from the discussions with the other Families wasn't going to do much for our appeal for assistance.

Dario nodded and then beckoned the healer forward. He was a young man I didn't know, but if he was in my father's guards, then he had to be skilled at his job. So I put my father out of my mind for a moment and let the healer do his work.

ASH

I had seen Bryony's father angry before. But I'd never seen him quite this angry. The ground, quite literally, shook beneath his feet the first time he slammed the point of his cane down and demanded to know what was going on as he appeared in the garden, having apparently taken one of the strange Fae ways back from the Court.

Each of the Families has a connection to the court that it can draw on for near-instantaneous transport if needs be. Most only use it in emergencies because the experience isn't exactly pleasant and it uses a hell of a lot of power.

But apparently Lord sa'Eleniel was in no mood to be delayed. I couldn't blame him for that. I was feeling somewhat enraged myself. Someone had tried to blow us up. It didn't matter who their target had been—though I had a strong suspicion it had been me—they'd been willing to take out Bryony and the others to get to me. And that, in my book, had earned them a one-way ticket to whatever hell they believe in and oblivion if they didn't.

Guy and Fen and I had waited for Lord sa'Eleniel, insisting that Bryony let the healers at the house look at her, and she'd taken Abernathy and Master Columbine with her. Guy had sent Liam as well. He was a sunmage after all and another layer of protection if someone had enough of a death wish to try something here in the sa'Eleniel's stronghold.

I didn't think they would—not unless the treachery had come from within the household itself. And that was enough of an unpleasant thought that I didn't want to even try to deal with it right now.

I'd seen Bryony in a rage before and it was akin to standing in the middle of a thunderstorm. Her father was doing a close impression of that now. If he struck the ground with his cane again, there was a good chance of lightning boiling down from the clear sky and frying something.

I hoped it wouldn't be me.

“You,” he snarled as he got close to us. “What caused this?”

“Someone laid some sort of ward on the road,” I said. I had puzzled out that much when I investigated the bodies of the horses and the crater the explosion had left. “It was designed to react to a horse, I think.” Though whoever had laid it had been careless and not figured in the time it might take for a carriage drawn by more than a single pair of horses to cross the ward after the first horse had.

Either that or the hastily flung ward I'd felt Fen send up when he'd yelled in the carriage had been the only thing that had stopped us from all being in pieces right now.

“Did you recognize the magic?”

“No, sir,” I said carefully. “There was no obvious trace of power. Nothing that felt strongly of any particular Family.” Which only meant that more than one person had worked on whatever they'd used to set the ward or that the working had been done by someone from a more obscure Family—a very minor house or a servant even. It wasn't a complicated spell after all.

Lord sa'Eleniel swore, then fixed his dark blue gaze back on me. “You almost got my daughter killed.”

“It may have been Bryony they were after,” I countered.

“No one,” Lord sa'Eleniel said, dangerously soft, “would try to harm my daughter on my lands.”

“I've only been back a few hours,” I protested. “How could anyone even know where I was?”

He cocked his head at me, then shook it disgustedly. “Anyone with half a brain felt you as soon as you stepped through the Gate. You need to do something about that. Or don't you know your own strength?”

“I—” I realized he was right. I'd been careless. I could've shielded my presence somewhat. But I'd never had to worry about such things in Summerdale. I knew the Veiled World carried the echoes of each Fae's power. The stronger the Fae, the stronger the echo. I'd felt the jolt of the queen returning after treaty negotiations or one of the rare other times when she left Summerdale. And I'd felt the comings and goings of other powerful Fae.

“Tchah,” Lord sa'Eleniel snorted, and waved his hand at me. “You always were trouble. You need to watch your back, boy. And I'll thank you to keep my daughter out of your idiocies.”

“Anyone who wants to hurt Bryony will have to get through me first,” I said.

His fingers tightened around the tip of his cane. “I'd prefer that it wasn't an issue. But that can wait. Just now I have to see to the security of my house.”

BRYONY

My father spent little time on niceties like knocking. He came charging into my room like a tornado, demanding to know if I was all right.

Saffron, the healer treating me, twisted to face him. “Be quiet, my lord. I need to concentrate.”

I hid a smile. Saffron sa'Namiel wasn't my favorite person, but she brooked no argument from anyone when she was performing her duties, and I respected that. I also respected anyone who stood up to my father.

Behind her my father looked as if he wanted to blow something up. I knew how he felt. Now that I was home and the immediate shock of the attack was wearing off and Saffron had nearly finished her work on my arm, what I was mostly left with was anger. How dare someone attack me on my own land? Attack me
and
my guests. If my father wanted to take his revenge on those who had planned the attack, then he was going to have to form an orderly line behind me. And Asharic, I suspected.

I had felt Ash's rage like a banked fire all through the short journey back to the house. I wasn't the only one. So far Saffron had refrained from trying to extract information about exactly what Ash was doing back in the Veiled World from me, but the curiosity practically rose from her like steam.

I ignored it. Saffron didn't need to know my business and anyway, she would learn soon enough as word spread of what had happened at court today. I saw no reason to speed that process just to indulge her taste for gossip.

She'd never cared for Ash anyway.

When Saffron finally released my arm, I flexed my fingers cautiously. No pain marred the movement. “I thank you,” I said.

“So you should,” she said tartly. “Whoever did that rushed job needs to go back to beginner classes.”

“I'll be sure to let them know,” I said, hoping Saffron would think that I was referring to someone within my father's household rather than figuring out that it was Ash who had healed me.

“Is anyone else hurt?”

“Only minor bumps and bruises. I took care of them.” I looked at her steadily, waiting for her to suggest that she should examine them too. She was older than me and fancied herself a better healer. And perhaps, when it came to healing Fae, she might be. But I was the one who'd spent thirty years working with the humans and I knew better than her how to heal them rapidly and well.

Saffron, perhaps with a weather eye to my father's mood and likely tolerance level, merely nodded. “Let me know if you have any further pain. It's unlikely,” she added as my father started to say something. “But still, send word if you need me again.”

She gathered up her supplies and then curtseyed. “My lord, I'll leave you alone with your daughter.”

Father didn't acknowledge the courtesy; he came straight for me. I waved him off. “I'm fine.”

“Your arm was broken.”

“Well, it's mended now.”

“I will find whoever did this,” he growled.

“Good,” I replied. “Just don't kill them until you find out what they were up to. Actually I'd like to help with that part.”

He smiled at that, as he always did when he thought I was being appropriately ruthless. “They were after the sa'Uriel boy, I'd imagine.”

“Ash? Why?” I'd reached the same conclusion, but I was interested in hearing my father's thoughts on the subject. He had a much better grasp of how exactly things lay in the court.

“He's a threat,” Father said bluntly.

I hadn't expected that. “Ash? A threat to what?”

“You must have felt it when he stepped across the Gate,” Father said darkly. “He's grown strong, that one. And there's a power struggle going on here at the moment. None of those who are jockeying for position will welcome any extra competition.”

“Do you include yourself in that category?” I asked.

He laughed, though there was an edge to the sound that I didn't entirely trust. “I doubt I'm likely to be the next ruler of the Veiled World.” He looked at me for a moment. “There are better candidates amongst our blood.”

“Oh no, you don't,” I said, standing to face him. “I have no interest in that particular prize. Besides which, I'm not powerful enough. So leave me out of your games, Father.”

“You don't know what you're capable of. You've never tested the limits of your power.”

“Nor do I want to. And anyway, the land didn't ring its bell for me like it did for Ash, so that should tell you something.”

“It tells me he's forgotten anything he might once have known about containing his power,” Father said. “He always was a fool.”

“Don't—”

He thumped his cane. “You cannot be defending him to me. He almost got you killed today. Not for the first time.”

“Ash didn't put me in danger. Your stupid politics did that.”

“That may be an explanation for today but not for what happened before.”

“What happened before is history. And Ash never knowingly put me in danger then either.”

“No, he just encouraged you to be as headstrong and foolish as he was,” my father snapped. He stared down at me. “Do not tell me you still harbor any of that childish sentiment for him. You cannot be that foolish. Not twice.”

“What I felt for Ash before is also history,” I said. It wasn't an outright denial. I couldn't speak an outright denial. But I could prevaricate with the best of them, thanks to the lessons I'd learned from the man before me.

“Good,” my father said. “See that it stays that way.”

I set my teeth. Answering any further would just worsen the argument. My father didn't like Ash. He likely never would. And in his current temper he would just do something we'd likely both regret if I kept the subject alive.

“Did the court reach a decision?” I asked, reaching for the only topic that I could think of that was likely to distract him from Ash. “Before you were called home?”

Father straightened suddenly, looking weary. “Yes, they did.” Something in his tone made my heart sink.

“And?”

“I'm sorry, daughter,” he said. “But they decided against you.”

BRYONY

Decided
against you
. My father's words were still ringing in my ears when our carriage halted in front of the Brother House. The journey home had been even more silent than our outward one. The dull, heavy silence of failure.

The Fae had said no.

They would not help.

They would leave the City to her fate.

Which left the question of what exactly we were going to do next. Take the fight to Ignatius or continue to play our waiting game?

I had a feeling that the Templars wouldn't want to wait. Which meant war. With all the death, injury, and destruction that would accompany it. Buildings would be ruined, families torn apart, and lives lost.

All in the name of peace.

It was a strange concept. Without the Fae, I wasn't even sure that there could be a lasting peace between the humans and the Blood. Adeline was more reasonable than Ignatius, and perhaps she could hold the peace awhile if we succeeded, but there would always be another Ignatius waiting in the wings.

What we really needed was the cure that Simon was working on. A cure for blood-locking. Because if blood-locked humans could be rescued, the humans would be far more ready to take the fight to the Blood. And the Blood would be more reliant on human goodwill for their food supply.

The trouble was that, so far, the cure was imperfect. Simon had roused some who'd been locked from their stupor, but none of them had returned to what you would consider normality. They were still damaged, still reliant on at least a small supply of vampire blood to function and the care of others to make sure they ate and bathed.

It was a start, but it wasn't the breakthrough we required.

I would have to press him—and Atherton—into working harder. See if they could find the missing piece of the puzzle.

Ash handed me down from the carriage after the others had descended. Guy, Liam, and Robert Abernathy were going to carry the unwelcome news to the Templars and the human council. Master Columbine would inform the mages.

Which left me to tell the Fae in the hospital.

I'd agreed not to take it further than them just now. Not that that was difficult. There were very few Fae left in the City who didn't work at St. Giles. Most of those were long reconciled to being away from Summerdale, choosing to remain here for their own reasons and generally keeping themselves to themselves. If they hadn't fled by now, they were apparently going to stay no matter what the situation might be.

The humans needed time to form a strategy before the news got out. Handled wrongly, it would just cause fear and panic. It could even trigger the conflict before we were ready. I could bind the Fae to silence if I had to, but I trusted my people. They would give me their word to maintain secrecy and they would keep it.

I watched the others head into the building, Asharic standing beside me. “Aren't you going with them?”

Ash shook his head. “No. I'll tell my men once we have a plan, same as the Templars will. Guy and Father Cho will need some time to consider their strategy.”

“You think they'll fight?”

“It's what I would do in their place. Ignatius isn't going to give up, and once he hears the Fae are out of the equation, then, if what I've heard of him is true, he won't waste time trying to press his advantage.”

“War,” I said softly. I hadn't been born when the last war with the Blood took place, but I'd heard the tales and those were bad enough.

“Yes.” He looked down at my arm. “You need to rest. Let me take you home.”

“I can make it back to the hospital on my own.”

“I know you can. But I'd like to see you safe. Indulge me.”

Bad idea. But I was tired and heartsick at the thought of what was to come and I couldn't find the strength to keep up my protest and send him away. “All right.”

The sun was nearly down, and the gardens around St. Giles were full of the sounds of birds finding their nighttime roosts and the wind speaking through the leaves. I was glad of the green darkness around me, the feel of the earth around my feet, strengthening me.

Leaving Summerdale was always odd, to feel the contraction of my powers as the miles between the Veiled World and the City shortened and the iron started to close in around me. I could feel it settling over me now, like a familiar cloak. One that I barely noticed, except at times like these when I'd been able to shed its weight for a time.

I stretched my arms to ease the ache in my back from too long in the carriage. First above my head and then out toward the setting sun. Westward. Toward Summerdale.

“Do you miss it?” Ash asked as I sighed and lowered my arms, pleased to note that the one that had been broken didn't hurt.

“Miss what?”

He gestured westward. “The Veiled World. The court.”

“Do you?”

“I asked first.”

I walked on and he kept pace with me.

“Well?” he persisted.

I didn't have an easy answer to the question. Missing Summerdale was the same as the weight of iron surrounding me. A familiar constant that I didn't think about often. “I miss the land sometimes. My home. But not the court.”

“You don't hunger for power? Your father must be disappointed.”

“He is,” I said tartly. “But I stopped worrying about what my father wants me to do a long time ago. What about you?”

“I won't say that it didn't feel good to be back there. To be . . . unconstrained. I'd forgotten what it was like.”

“There is that,” I admitted. “But this place has its good points too.” We passed a bank of Lily's flowers, scenting the twilight with a faint sweet perfume.

“Still, there's too much iron here,” he said.

“You should be used to it. You ride with an army.”

“It's different. Armies don't have buildings.”

“You must have been in other cities.”

“Yes. But they're not like this one.” He frowned. Turned back toward the Brother House. “It must be the Templars,” he said. “The iron feels even stronger here than elsewhere in the City.”

I thought of the hidden ward below the hospital and made an agreeing noise. Damn. Could Ash sense the iron doors that guarded the ward despite all the layers of magic that Simon and I had laid over it? None of the other Fae in the hospital had ever mentioned it to me.

“Is it the Templars?” Ash asked.

I kept walking. “It's almost dark. We should hurry.”

He stopped. “That wasn't an answer.”

“Well, it's all the answer you're going to get for now.”

“A mystery.” He smiled, his teeth a white gleam in the shadowed face. “I like mysteries.”

“Don't you have enough to do without going looking for trouble?”

“I especially like mysteries that involve trouble.”

“Veil's eyes, Father is right. You are impossible.”

“Yes, but you like me anyway.” He stepped closer. Too close. Too near in the falling dark and the soft air, with the first hints of starlight above us. This night was the stuff of lovers' trysts. Nothing that I wanted any part of when it came to Ash. Even if his nearness made the hairs on my arms lift and set butterflies floating idly through my stomach.

“Don't flatter yourself.”

“Deny it,” he challenged.

I stared up at him for a moment, then turned and headed for the hospital once more. There was safety there. Other people. Bright lights.

Ash caught up to me in a few steps, his expression shuttered, but he didn't press the topic.

Wise man. We reached the door of the wing that held my quarters and I set my hand to the warded lock.

The door yielded obediently and I pulled it open. Ash caught it and held it for me, making it clear that he wasn't going to stop at the doorway.

I blinked as I stepped into the hospital. The gaslights were burning and it was, after the garden, surprisingly bright. I hesitated, knowing that I really should head for my office, to receive the reports of what had happened during the day and what needed my attention in the morning.

And yet . . . nobody knew I was back. No one was at my heels demanding my attention. It was a rarity in my life and I was suddenly exhausted, having pushed myself past the tolerance for no sleep in the last few days.

Surely they wouldn't miss me for a few more hours if I just went upstairs and slept? Simon was here and the hospital seemed quiet enough. Just the usual gentle hum of activity echoed through the halls, not the sharper, more urgent sounds that would mean there had been another disaster or attack to deal with.

“You need to rest,” Ash said, as though he could read my thoughts.

I hoped devoutly that he couldn't. “This is my hospital. It's my responsibility.”

“And it won't fall down around your ears if you take a little time for yourself,” he said. “You sa'Eleniels are too damned stubborn for your own good. You were hurt today and I know that Saffron healed you, but you still need to rest. Isn't that what you'd tell one of your patients?”

I glared. “Yes.”

“Then why don't you take your own advice? Or do I have to carry you up to your rooms?”

“You don't know where my rooms are.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No,” I said hastily. Suspicion bloomed. Had he been asking about me? “Do you know where my rooms are?”

“I could take a pretty good guess.”

“How?”

“Do you think I don't know the feel of your magic?” He pointed upward and to the right, pretty much directly at my chambers.

“This whole place has my magic running through it,” I objected.

“Maybe. But that's where it feels strongest.”

I studied him, perturbed by this revelation. Just how strong had he become? The land had reacted to him as it would to one of the strongest Fae. My father had said that his return would bring trouble. I was beginning to believe it. If Ash was as powerful as I suspected, then the other Fae who sought the throne wouldn't leave him alone.

And the likely outcome of that was him leaving again. I couldn't see him wanting to be king, any more than I wanted to be a queen. If he stayed, he might just be too much of a threat to be left alive.

My heart squeezed. He would leave. When he'd just come back. I bit my lip, telling myself that I didn't care. But once again I couldn't believe the lie.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing that time won't fix,” I said. Which wasn't a lie. If he left again, then I would survive. Mostly. “You're right. I'm tired. I'm going to go to bed.”

“And I said I'd see you to your door,” he said. He offered me an arm. “So let me do my gentlemanly duty.”

“And then you'll leave?” I said hopefully.

He didn't answer and the butterflies quivered again. Stupid, foolish body. Why couldn't it see sense and realize that Ash was nothing but heartbreak waiting to happen all over again?

I sighed and tucked my hand through his arm. He wasn't going to leave until he'd seen me to my chambers, so I might as well just climb the stairs and then make a second attempt at getting rid of him when I reached the safety of my room. My wards were strong, and power or no power, I knew Ash wouldn't actually force his way through them if I turned him away. Not if he knew what was good for him.

The only question was, did I know what was good for me and could I actually close the door in his face?

•   •   •

The answer, it seemed, was no. We climbed the stairs and I unlocked my rooms and then Ash leaned against the doorframe, saying nothing but speaking volumes with his failure to leave.

“Tea?” I asked eventually. Tea was safe. I could still throw him out after tea. Feign—or rather not feign—fatigue and he would leave me alone. He was concerned with what had happened today. If I said I needed to rest, he would acquiesce and leave me.

And then I'd be alone.

The tea didn't take long. I didn't have the patience for a drawn-out ceremony, so I merely poured the water over the herbs with a basic blessing and left it to steep while I fussed with selecting cups. China, I decided, not silver. Make him think I had picked up bad human habits.

On the other hand, he might be perfectly at home with china. He'd traveled with humans for years, after all. I doubted many mercenaries carted silver tea services around to battles.

Maybe he would think I was trying to make him feel comfortable.

Veil's eyes
. I gave myself a mental slap and reached out for the first two cups that came to hand. Which were, in the end, a pair that Saskia had given me. Pretty silver and bronze holders with glass bodies. She had made them in her first year at the Guild of Metalmages. And the life in the odd angles and twists of their shape spoke clearly of her.

I poured the tea and then carried the cups across to Ash. He was standing near one of my bookshelves studying the rows of books. Mostly treatises on healing, though there was the odd story amongst them. Some of my favorites from the Veiled World and some of the silly entertaining tales the humans wrote. He ran his finger along the spine of one of them.