Rogue's Pawn (20 page)

Part IV

Hypothesis Testing

Chapter
Twenty-One

In Which We Pick Up Where We Left Off

The necklace from Falcon.

Even as I ran barefooted through the camp, dodging dancers and merrymakers who juggled flashing pillows, I knew what had happened. I should never have used it. It had been a trap, with the trigger somehow pulled on Darling.

I had been tragically negligent.

The brown page halted our mad dash, pointing the way to a knot of nobles and pages—some still spattered with dried blood and gore. At Larch’s booming proclamation that I had arrived, they opened up, forming an aisle for me. In the center of the group, Darling lay stretched out on a high table, on top of a glowing dark blue pillow, silent musicians standing around him in a doleful huddle. A page was diligently festooning Darling’s body with ivory flowers. He still wore his armor, an unnaturally stiff structure standing out around his lax furry limbs.

I pushed the page aside and swept the flowers off, running my hands over Darling, ignoring the indignant cries around me. He was still warm, but oh so limp. I felt for the femoral pulse in his leg, difficult to find in cats anyway, impossible with my own heart thundering in my ears and my hands shaking. I turned him over so I could lay my ear against his little chest, his limbs still so pliant. Maybe I could hear something. Maybe I only wanted to too badly. Around me discussions flared over Darling’s death, his brave deeds on the battlefield, what sort of funeral would be most glorious.

Snarling at them all, I gathered Darling up in my arms. “Clear the way, Larch.”

They all stared at me, shocked, but also delighted with the unexpected turn of events.

“Make way for the Great and Powerful Lady Sorceress carrying the burden of her dead Familiar!” Larch thundered.

I clenched my teeth on a sob and plowed through the titillated sea. Falcon waited for me at the end of the aisle. He still wore his blinding armor, flame-gold now in the reflected light of the torches borne by the pages who flanked him.

“Lord Darling is dead, Lady Gwynn. Won’t you let him rest in peace?”

“Murderer,” I whispered. As if this said anything pertinent.

“Oh no, lady. It was not I who placed the collar around his neck. So pretty, such lovely stones.” He brushed his finger over one and raised the eyebrow on the patterned side of his face, his blazing eye the same color as the jewels.

I hugged Darling to my breast, feeling where Falcon’s teeth had sunk in, pinned beneath his sharp gaze. Anger and despair, two sides of the same coin, burned through the mental and emotional barriers instilled in me.

Marquise may have been right to question the tightness of my bonds.

“So sorry you took out the wrong target, but I have things to do.” I slipped around Falcon and he let me.

“Don’t fret, lady,” he called after me. “I can have the stones reset into a necklace for you. You won’t be without it long.”

I buried my face in Darling’s fur, blindly following Larch. Noticing his fur was wet, I realized I was crying. Crying silently and effortlessly, like I had when my old cat had died of cancer. All that winter afternoon and into the night I’d held her, thinking each ratcheting breath would be the last. Waiting for her to slip away. Until she began convulsing, crying in pain, and I called the emergency vet in the middle of the night, going to that cold sterile room to buy that final shot for her. I hadn’t been sure which of us was being put out of her misery.

There was no one for me to call now.

When I reached the tent, Larch held the flap open for me, while Dragonfly anxiously bounced up, a solicitous pillow in each hand. My bath still stood, waiting for me. Cold.

“Night off, Dragonfly,” I said.

I strode past her to my workbench, tenderly laying Darling on the surface. I ran my hands through his fur. Think.
Think.
Something rustled, distracting me.

“Everybody out,” I ordered. “I swear, if anyone disturbs me, I’ll strike them dead where they stand.”

“Good threat,” said a silky voice behind me, “but can you back it up?”

I spun around, my body coiling.

“Rogue.”

He sprawled across the pillows in the otherwise empty tent. Languid, even indolent, he poured like ink over the gaily covered cushions, blue-black against their soft glow.

“I like your pillows. Cute idea.” He smacked one, making it glow brighter. “Aren’t you going to strike me dead? I’m agog to see your technique.”

“I don’t have time for you and your games,” I snapped. “Go torment someone else.”

I turned my back on him and ran my hands over Darling again, feeling his muscle tone, feeling for life. Cooler than he had been, but still limp. No rigor mortis. How long did that take in a cat? I laid my ear on his chest again. Maybe I could hear for a heartbeat better without the armor. I reached for the buckles.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Rogue breathed in my ear.

Proud of myself for not startling, I refused to look at him, knowing his face was right over my shoulder. The scent of cinnamon and sandalwood teased along my cheek.

“Why not?”

“His life is linked to it now. Without it, he’ll die in truth.”

A dry sob suddenly escaped me. I clamped down, digging my fingers into Darling’s fur.

“He’s not dead then?”

“Death wears many faces.”

I spun around to face him. Then stepped back, he loomed so closely over me. “Can you heal him?”

“What are you willing to give me?”

Nothing without a price. I stared at him, the green ribbon from my dreams flashing through my mind. From the sapphire flare in Rogue’s eyes, I knew he caught it.

Rogue cocked his head at me in acknowledgement, the long tail of his inky hair sliding over one shoulder.

“No.” But it came out a whisper.

“Then what?”

“This isn’t some kind of game of sex and power! We can flirt all you want after you deal with Darling.”

“I accept your bargain.”

Damn, damn and damn.

“And, lovely Gwynn—” Rogue trailed an elegant finger down my cheek, “—everything is a game of sex and power.”

I tried to compose myself. It didn’t pay to lose my temper. I slowly and pointedly removed his finger.

“I believe we just agreed to after we deal with Darling?” I was pleased with my arch tone. “Wouldn’t want to violate the bargain, would you?”

Rogue sighed elaborately. “Falcon gave you a pre-set trap. As soon as you invoke magic, it…grabs you. Not death, but not life either.”

“Some kind of stasis.”

He nodded thoughtfully.

“But Darling wasn’t with the wounded, what magic would he have invoked?”

“I thought you gave permission for him to facilitate the dancing?”

“What does dancing have to do with it?”

Rogue rolled his eyes dramatically and reached up to flick a long finger against the drying lily over the bench. We both watched it spin, its dusky indigos undiminished, a sweet crumbling scent wafting out with its movement. I tore my gaze away from it to find Rogue eyeing me, eyes glinting darkly.

“Despite your innovative little tricks, there is much you don’t understand.”

“No argument there.”

“Lord Darling’s gift is to offer freedom from pain, you do remember that?”

“Yes.” I was being patient.

“How do you imagine anyone can dance all night long without a little assistance that way?”

“Oh.” I glanced at Darling. “I hadn’t thought.”

“You never do.”

“Ha-ha.”

He was watching the lily again, its inverted dance dying out. He looked almost sorrowful. I felt the urge to apologize but clamped down on it ruthlessly.

“Why are you here, Rogue? How do you know what’s been going on—the necklace from Falcon and me saying Darling could help with the dancing?” I asked it softly.
How could you let them do all that to me?
I tucked that last question away where he couldn’t hear it.

Not something I wanted to hear the answer to.

“I pay attention to my investments.”

“Thanks for that illuminating response.”

He grinned at me, a bright flash of teeth twisting the sharp lines around his mouth. “Maybe I’ve missed you, Lovely Gwynn.” He stepped toward me, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “The black is ravishing, but you didn’t have to do it for me.”

“I didn’t. And we’re not flirting—we haven’t dealt with Darling.”

“He’s not going anywhere. And you failed to define ‘deal’—he’s been dealt with.”

I looked at the cat’s body on the table, inert, lifeless. Tears pricked my eyes and I stuffed them back. “But now what? What was Falcon’s plan if it had been me? Why not just kill me?”

“Falcon doesn’t forget what I am owed, even if you do.”

My eyes flew to Rogue’s—which were too damn close. I walked away, pacing. He leaned against the workbench, booted ankles crossed, an amused look on his face.

“That’s a little under six and a half years away.”

“Ah, my lady has been counting the days.”

I glared at him. “So I know how much time I have to figure a way out of it.”

He was at my side in a movement so fast I didn’t see it. I must have thrown up a hand to ward him off, because he seized my wrist and pulled the hand up over my head, while his other arm crushed me against his chest. Had I thought Falcon’s gaze was sharp? Rogue’s predatory eyes bored into me, midnight space, the sable lines stark against his skin.

“Don’t even imagine the possibility,” he whispered.

“Let me go.”

“That’s the point—my answer is no.”

“I won’t be your brood mare.”

“No, you’ll be infinitely more than that.”

He almost crooned the words. I closed my eyes against his proximity and I felt his lips, blazing hot against my cheek. I tried to yank my hand away but failed to move it even slightly. My whole body arched against him, thrumming with tension. Emotion rocked through me. The rollercoaster of the day had left me unbalanced. More so than usual, anyway. Rogue’s lips trailed to my throat, the light brushing singing through my nerves, burning through me. But I managed to hold myself still, as if uninterested.

I felt Rogue raise his head and I opened my eyes to find his, dark Pacific blue, nearly black and swimming deep. The three-three beat of his heart pounded in counterpoint to mine.

“You promised to flirt, Gwynn. This feels like resistance.”

“Doesn’t it bother you that I hate you with all my heart?”

“But I know you don’t.”

I had no response to that. Except to open that little door between us and let him feel the hot rush of it.

Rogue closed his eyes, as if savoring a fine wine. “The strength of your passion is enough for me. It’s connection enough for what I need from you. And—” he opened his eyes again, spearing me with their blue blaze, “—you are now failing the terms of our bargain. Which means you will owe me a forfeit. Are you prepared for that?”

“Oh no—we didn’t define the terms of the bargain. You failed to define flirting. And,” I repeated myself in measured tones, “we haven’t dealt with Darling yet.”

“Observe, darling Gwynn.”

His eyes darkened and I felt something gather in the air around us, like an electrical storm of the navy-black energy I’d pulled from the lily. I could taste Rogue’s magic in the air. I craned my neck to see Darling. With a subaudible chime, the topazes poofed into amber smoke, the armor following suit. Darling sat up, shook himself and meowed at Rogue.

“No—the lovely Lady Gwynn has paid for it. Now leave us so I can collect.”

Darling sent me a salacious image, but it felt tired. He sauntered out of the tent, all dignity, his tail drooping slightly.

“Perhaps I should—”

“Pay attention to your bargain with me? Yes. Anything else to deal with—regarding Darling, of course?”

I tried to think of something, shifted a bit to see if Rogue would release his grip, but it was like being held by granite. Really warm, satin granite.

Giddy relief that Darling was okay surged through me. My blood heated at the press of Rogue’s lithe muscled body. This was not good at all. “I could think better if you’d let me go.”

“No. Darling questions now or we…move on.”

Okay then. I tried to divorce my mind. Focus on what I needed to know.

“Why didn’t Darling know the stones were enchanted? He talked me into using them.”

“If Darling were perspicacious enough to avoid such traps, he wouldn’t be a cat now.”

“You mean he’s not really a cat—he’s a man? Or a faerie, I mean?”

“Both. Anything else?”

“Why wasn’t the spell in the necklace nullified when I transformed it into armor?”

“Because you’re an amateur. You didn’t properly stabilize the spell so it would stay itself.”

“Oh.” How interesting. “Like your chamber pots. How do you do that?”

Rogue’s eyes gleamed with an acquisitive light. “I could teach you—for a price.”

“Sorry, I’m clearly already in debt up to my eyeballs.”

Rogue nipped my ear lobe lightly. “You’re stalling. Do we have anything else to ‘deal’ with, in your estimation?”

“Define flirting.”

“It was your own offer—you define it.”

I frowned at him. “I can’t think in this position.”

“That would be your problem.”

“Acting like you’re interested in someone…romantically.”

“I can accept that.” Rogue trailed his lips along my cheek. “I look forward to your interest in me.”

“How could you do it?” I whispered. “Send me to that…place.”

“That is not a question about Darling.”

I caught his gaze. “Nevertheless, I need to know.”

“I told you. Not everything is within my power, lovely Gwynn. I knew you would survive it. And that you would come out stronger. I did what I could to make the terms bearable.”

“You made sure they couldn’t actually use me—sexually.”

“Yes.” He nearly growled the word. “That is only for me. I long for you. Let me have you.”

His eyes burned with an intensity I couldn’t face. I looked away and wiggled the fingers of my right hand. “My hand is falling asleep.”

“Pity. I’ll have to rub it for you.” He slid his body sinuously along mine in demonstration. My nipples chafed and peaked. Rogue’s eyes roved down to where the straight neckline of my dress threatened to drag too low. He tightened the arm around my waist, lifting me up a bit, which only pulled the dress lower. He bent, placing a trailing kiss along my bosom. I dragged in a breath, trying to still my response.