Rogue's Pawn (26 page)

Chapter
Twenty-Nine

My Dinner with Falcon

The short trek across camp was becoming familiar. Homelike, in an odd way. It felt good, too, to walk on seriously high heels again. A certain confidence came from that, from the gliding hip-swaying steps those heels required. I was glad now, that Starling got me to dress up. Armor came in many forms.

I had a pretty good idea how I wanted to play this meeting. And, no, it did not involve agreeing to him having all the power.

A group of giggling pages of indeterminate sex danced around me for a moment singing an ethereally high-pitched song, presented me with a flower and scampered off. In the varied light of the moon, campfires and flickering pillows, it reminded me of a rose. Smelled like a rose, too. I spun it in my fingertips as I followed Larch’s proclamations of my progress, and felt nothing more than flower in it. Green plant energy.

Sometimes a flower was just a flower, I supposed.

“Lady Gwynn.” Falcon swept a bow to me when I entered his tent.

“Falcon.” I nodded at him.

He raised an eyebrow on the clear side of his face. “Are you my superior, then, to neglect my title?”

“I’m not all that interested in titles,” I answered with a careless air, tossing my rose down onto the small square dinner table. Intimate and set for two, with the place settings on two adjoining sides, rather than across from each other. “Is this a date?”

“You refused Rogue’s offer. I assumed you had come to certain…decisions.” Falcon wore buff leather tonight, which clung to the long sinewy lines of him, the color one eerie shade lighter than his eyes.

“Did you now?” I flicked a glance at Larch, who stared steadily out the tent flaps, undoubtedly watching for marauding barbarians. Then I slid out the chair at my chosen place-setting and sat, crossing my legs, gathering my thoughts.

Falcon sat in the other chair, brushing my foot as he slid past. He filled my crystal goblet from a carafe, then filled his own. He held his goblet up, the faceted lines of it reflecting bloodred in the candlelight. “To us.”

“Happy days,” I answered with my grandmother’s traditional toast, lifting my own sanguine goblet and clinking it lightly to his. I waited for him to sip first before I tasted mine, and grimaced at it. Even sweeter than the white stuff. It didn’t seem possible. And I’d thought the Manischewitz wine at my college roommate’s Passover dinner was bad.

I leaned back in my chair, bringing my wineglass with me, and toyed with the rose lying by my plate, admiring its creamy warmth against the dark red cloth of Falcon’s table. I thought back to my first dinner here and the bargains I’d made that night.

“So, do you have a proposal for me?”

“You already belong to me. I’m willing to take you in, now that Rogue has discarded you.”

“Take me in?” I raised my eyebrows. Falcon leaned in, running his fingers down the inside of my wrist, his fingers long like Rogue’s but the nails a hard and pointed aged-ivory. The wine in my glass shivered with my trepidation.

“I don’t mind the filthy source of your power.” Falcon chuckled. “We can play games, you and I, that will keep you fully charged for battle. I know how to keep a woman like you on edge without draining the magic away.”

“I don’t believe my agreement with Rogue is void at this point,” I said with care. I sipped from my glass so I could slip out of Falcon’s touch. “What about his baby?”

Falcon waved a negligent hand. “You can pleasure me, pet, without danger of impregnation. And if Rogue survives until then, he can still claim you at the appointed time. As if that will save him.”

“Save him?”

“You were wise to refuse him.” Falcon laid his hand on my knee, inching the hem of my dress up a bit higher. “Even now the Black Dog escapes his control. The odds are against him surviving until your contract is up with me. You’ll be far better off as my pet than his.”

I studied the flaring triumph in Falcon’s yellow eyes. “You know, where I come from, sometimes people try to make pets of the wrong animals. They bring home a bobcat kitten or a part-wolf pup. At first everything is fine. Then they grow up and things change. One day, without warning, their cute little tamed pet is a vicious, savage beast.”

I held his eyes a moment, then shrugged and lifted my wine again and sat back, uncrossing my legs and recrossing them the other direction, again shaking off that clawed touch.

“Sadly, it often takes a serious injury or even death to open their eyes to the fact that Mittens the kitten is a wild and dangerous beast, with all the deadly power a true predator possesses.”

“Do you have a point, Lady Gwynn?” Falcon asked. I was pleased to see him drain his wine and refill the glass from the carafe.

“I thought you might enjoy debating the difference between a pet and a wild animal that is caged—” I touched my fingertips to my throat, “—and what happens when it is no longer restrained.”

Falcon seized my wrist, yanking me so the wine in my glass sloshed over the faceted rim, spilling down my arm in bloody rivulets. His pointed nails, nearly talons, dug in, drawing my own dark blood to the surface to join the mix. “Have a care, pet. Restraint can be immediately arranged.”

“I’m sick of your threats, Falcon,” I whispered, a sweet smile curving my lips. “I’ve endured more pain than this—thanks for that, by the way—and dealt with department chairs more malicious than you. With more power.”

I hurled a brief and pointed desire his way, connecting it to all that dull rage I’d accumulated over the years, from every totalitarian senior professor, every smug condescension from Clive, each of Falcon’s maneuvers to cow me. With a shriek, Falcon yanked his hand away as if burned, clutching his hand to his chest.

Burned he was. The hand that had touched me sizzled charcoal, visibly smoking. The smell of cooked flesh filled the air.

It turned my stomach. Too much like that poor dead page—should have thought of that. But I clamped down on my own horror. Sometimes power lay in seeming not to care. No weeping during major magical power struggles.

I sat back in my chair, poured myself some wine. At least the cough-syrupy scent of it was thick enough to screen the smell of burning fae.

Falcon was shrieking for his servants. His pages bustled around him, slathering his arm with something, then wrapping it in silk. I stood, idly wandering the tent while they worked, keeping one ear on Falcon’s thoughts. Startled birds wheeling through the sky.

One strawberry-smoothie-pink fellow trotted up to me and offered a cloth and bowl of water to clean my arm. I thanked him but declined. The wound helped focus my thoughts. I raised my arm, watching the dark crimson drops well up and ooze down my arm in slow spirals. The wine might have been going to my head, but the sound of Falcon’s whimpers, my strength in the face of his crushed swagger, gave me a dizzying sense of power.

I strolled over to watch the first-aid efforts, enjoying Falcon’s cringe as I stood over him.

“You know, they always say that wild animals are more afraid of you than you are of them. And that may be true. But when people get attacked? That’s because the animal decides it has no choice but to fight. When destruction seems imminent from every direction, there is no disadvantage to giving every drop of life to the hope of survival, or at least mutual destruction.”

“I told Puck, that idiot, that you weren’t trained,” Falcon hissed, kicking one of the pages away.

“Not mindless, anyway.”

“I can still summon Marquise and Scourge to re-collar you. In slavery to silver you’ll find yourself less cocky, human monster.”

I put down my wineglass. “Try it. Just know this—I’ll fight. With everything I have. To the death, rather than go back to that. Which means I’ll take as much as I can with me—and you’re first in line, Birdboy.”

“You would be an oathbreaker!”

I looked around the lavish tent in mock surprise. “You know, I keep hearing about the dire consequences of breaking bargains, but I’m not seeing it.”

“You are a fool,” Falcon hissed.

“It seems to me,” I continued, “that you and I need to come to some agreements. To set the flavor of our future working relationship. I’ll serve out my time with you, but I decide what magic I do and how. You tell me what you want accomplished and I’ll decide how to do it. And this—” I gestured to the table. “No more of this. I’m no one’s pet. Not Rogue’s. Not yours.”

“Agreed, Lady Gwynn.” Falcon began unwinding the silk from his arm. The silk slipped apart, sliding easily, no blood or gore caking it together. “Do your magic as you see fit—I’m not interested to interfere.”

A buff golden color showed through the folds of the silk bandage, banded with browns and blacks, a hint of cream. Falcon stood, shaking the last of the wrapping away, flaring the wing his arm had become, feathers snapping to with a whoosh like a parachute grabbing wind. The candles on the table flickered and went out in the sudden draft.

My wounded arm suddenly throbbed in sympathy.

Falcon’s eyes had lost their pupils, gone to the clear cadmium yellow of the raptor. “As long as battle goes my way. Consider me duly cautious of awaking the beast within you.”

His face lengthened, sharpened beaklike, his voice growing oddly strident.

“But, Lady Gwynn, exercise caution yourself.” His clothing morphed into feathers. “See that you keep your word in the next battle, or you will have failed to serve me. Then you will see what it means to break your oath to the fae.”

With a clap of air rushing into a vacuum, he collapsed into a small falcon shape, then disappeared.

Chapter
Thirty

In Which a Goddess Puts In an Unpleasant Appearance

The next day, Starling started organizing me.

She made it easy for me, I must confess. Her mother’s daughter, Starling brought a polished level of organization to the carnival atmosphere of the war camp. At least, to our little corner of it. She marshaled the Brownie forces to set her up a tent next to mine, seeming to know without me telling her how much I valued my privacy. She set up a little area for Darling, too, with a place for him to keep the souvenirs he picked up around camp.

And I found myself following Starling’s schedule without her telling me.

She even arranged for regular meals, with actual nourishing food rather than the endless supply of pastries and fruit Dragonfly had provided. Pillow-making was proceeding apace. Everybody seemed cheerfully occupied.

Even those of us sublimating our emotions into work. I should have been pleased with my little victory over Falcon, but his closing warning had left me uneasy. I’d been very careful to follow the letter of my agreements with Rogue, but admittedly not much more than that. However, he was not my friend or my lover, but my enemy. How that all fell into my personal code of ethics, I wasn’t at all sure.

Then Starling had to bring up Dragonfly.

“It’s a good thing you dismissed her,” Starling said.

She had acquired a standing wardrobe for me and was hanging up dresses the Brownies had laundered. I hated to bother them about it, but Starling had just shaken her head at me. “You have to give them work to do or they wither away.” The images in her head showed me she meant that literally.

“I didn’t, actually,” I replied from my workbench. “She took off with Rogue.”

“With Lord Rogue?”

“At least, so I believe.”

“She did not!”

“The circumstantial evidence is pretty compelling.”

“Tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” I tried to concentrate on the spell I was working up for the upcoming battle. I didn’t want to be winging it this time. Dancing along the line Falcon drew would make it interesting.

“Then it won’t take long.” Starling plopped her butt down next to my grimoire, like a kid waiting for a fairytale story.

“Why is it that you’re all ‘whatever my lady wants’ until you’re bugging me about something?”

Starling grinned happily at me and wiggled her rear farther back. “Mother told me my primary responsibility is taking care of you, whatever that takes. What happened?”

My gut clenched, thinking about it. I rubbed my hands over my face and into my hair, massaging my scalp. “No, we are not having this conversation.”

“Gwynn.” Starling reached out and lightly touched my wrist, a glancing touch and retreat. “Trust me. Maybe I can help you.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her I didn’t need help. The incident still burned bitterly in my heart. I found myself picking at it in my mind, replaying the images and waiting for them to hurt less. Remembering how I’d come for him like that. Wondering exactly what had happened. Why he left.

Was it the lightning?

And why the hell did I even care?

“Rogue was here…” Starling prompted.

“And he was mad at me.”

Starling nodded, biting her lip with one pearly eyetooth.

“Because I wouldn’t…we had this deal where…” I stood up, started pacing. “Look, it’s a long freaking story, Starling. Suffice to say that I chose not to put out and give in to whatever the hell his diabolical plan is, and Dragonfly stepped up to the plate, as it were.”

Starling held up a pale hand, as if to halt my tirade, though I’d already finished.

“You’re saying Dragonfly had intercourse with Lord Rogue?”

“I don’t know. I left the tent.”

“So you didn’t see.”

“Not exactly, but he made it clear what direction things were going. She was kneeling down, you know. All eager to…”

“Oh.”

“Exactly.”

“And then what?”

I sighed, rolling my shoulders. “Umm. I left, he came after me a while later, we talked about some stuff out by the oak tree. He left for good, and when I got back to the tent, Dragonfly was a gone Johnson.”

“I’m sorry.” Starling said it quietly, her chocolate-brown eyes grave.

“No. Not at all. I refused his attentions so he was free to go elsewhere. That’s how it works.”

“No, I’m sorry to tell you this, but…I think Titania took her.”

“Titania? As in a real person, or are you saying something like ‘she returned to the arms of the Lord’?”

Starling cocked her head at me. I could almost see her thoughts swirling around her head. “Dragonfly agreed to serve you. You must have said it was okay for her to make that offer to Rogue?”

Yeah, I guess I had. Starling read it in my face.

“But you didn’t really mean it—and it’s not your fault, really, because how could you? You were feeling all hurt and stuff…”

“I wasn’t…”

“But that’s what happens with true love. There are misunderstandings, and lovers fight. So you were feeling all hurt and you said it was okay, but it wasn’t, so Dragonfly—who was stupid, by the way, she should have known better—broke her agreement to you and now, well, Titania’s got her.”

I stared at Starling, flabbergasted. It took me a moment to get my breath back. “Okay. One, I am not in love with Rogue. You have no idea the kinds of things he’s done—and tried to do—to me. Two, he certainly does not love me, and I’d be a fool to set myself up for that. And three, what the hell does that mean, ‘Titania’s got her’? The image I’m getting in my head is like some kind of…what my people think of as damnation.”

Starling fiddled with the folds of her dress. “The consequences for oath-breaking can be dire.”

I dropped my face into my hands, digging my fingers across my scalp. “Fabulous.”

“Good morning, beautiful damsels!” Puck popped his tousled strawberry head through the tent flaps. “Anyone not decent—I hope?”

“You might have checked
before
you looked,” I answered drily.

“No fun in that, is there!”

Starling had already slipped off the table, and Puck gallantly bowed over her hand, kissing it with an elaborate flourish.

“Lady Starling of Castle Brightness, you grow more ravishing with every sunrise, surpassing even the glow of your ancestral home.”

I managed not to roll my eyes as Starling giggled at him.

“And Most Powerful Lady Sorceress!” Puck left Starling to sweep me a bow. “You grow more…absolutely terrifying. What have you done to your hair, dear lady?”

“Puck—do you have a reason to be here, besides being the fashion police?”

“Indeed. I am here to inform the Mighty Sorceress Gwynn, and her lovely attendant—” he winked at Starling, “—of impending battle tomorrow. There will be cavalry! Gore! Glory for all!” Puck performed an intricate box step, ending with a flourish. “Be ready at first light.”

He popped out again, as quickly as he’d appeared, leaving Starling and I staring at each other in bemusement.

Starling opened her mouth and I stepped in before she could say anything.

“No, let’s not discuss this any more right now. Just get it out of your head that this is some kind of love story here.” I found my voice unaccountably choked up.

Starling took a step toward me, her brow furrowed. “But I know Lord Rogue saved you after the Battle of the Birds. He performed great magics to save your life and, in return, you pledged him your eternal love. Everyone knows the story.”

I threw my hands up in the air. “Incredible how you people believe your own press! You need to grow up, Starling. There is no such thing as true love. It’s a fantasy. And what is going on between Rogue and me is all about power.”

“Well, I’m sure he’s not easy to love, but…”

“I. Do. Not. Love. Rogue.” I said it slowly and with as much intent as I could muster behind it so she could understand.

Starling blinked at me, worry clouding her eyes. “But you’re here for him. That’s why you brought yourself over from your world. You dreamed of him, loved him even then, and sacrificed everything to come here and be with him. To answer him in his time of need.”

“What need? His need to impregnate a human woman and make the baby into some kind of changeling? Starling, that is just not something a person signs up for.”

“But your magic! That’s why you’re so powerful, because of the intimate connection with him!”

I sighed. “Look around you, Starling. Do you see him? No, you don’t. Because I refused him and ran him off. I won. Do you see? It doesn’t matter what stories everyone is telling.
This
is the reality. My being here is an accident and I’m going back home. I didn’t come here to save anybody, least of all Rogue. It was just stupid happenstance. There are people I left behind who love me and need me.”

From his favorite violet pillow, Darling sent a question about Isabel.

“Yes, you would have liked her. Though she’s all cat with nothing…extra about her.” I picked up my hairbrush, working out the snarls I’d put in. I would get back to them. If they weren’t all dead. To Isabel and my mother. If I could face down Rogue and Falcon, then I could break up with Clive in person. Maybe I’d apply for jobs at another university, move up. Back in the world I belonged to, where things made sense. My heart felt satisfyingly hard again. Impervious. “And I’ll tell you what—if this Titania took Dragonfly and is punishing her because that silly little faerie let me down somehow, then I’d like her to come here and explain.”

A frisson ran over the room. If a wave of energy that felt like blistering drought could be called that. The cheerfully noisy camp fell silent.

Starling’s face whitened. “What have you done, Gwynn?”

I hadn’t meant to make the wish. I’d gotten caught up in thinking in my old ways. It wasn’t even really a clear wish, but I could feel it manifest. As if something had been waiting for the opportunity to pounce. Be careful what you wish for, all right.

We pushed out of the tent and into the deathly silent camp. Not a fae, pixie, page or Brownie was in sight. Only Titania riding up the velvety green hill to see me.

She rode a white horse with a cotton-candy-pink mane and tail. Titania herself—she could be no other—was naked, her voluptuous body featureless as a Barbie doll’s. Long silver hair flowed over the horse and trailed on the ground behind.

Her pale eyes fixed on me.

Parching heat flowed out of her, prickling my skin. I wished a protective wall between her and us, just in case. She smiled at me, sweet, charming, and canceled it. She tore the magic out of me, making me gasp out loud.

All around me, the thoughts had stilled. Like the endless buzz of cicadas ceasing before a storm, the eerie silence filled me with dread.

“Lady Sorceress.” Titania’s voice filled my mind, a symphony of bass chords and high flutes. Her pretty lips never lost their smile. “You asked for an explanation.”

Well, holy shit. I grasped for words that flew away. I reached for the silence Marquise and Scourge had taught me. Nothing. Everything in me wanted to scream and run away.

She put long fingers to her lips, as if to stifle a giggle. They had several extra joints, a spider’s hand.

“I’m missing my maidservant, Dragonfly.”

“She broke her oath to you. That makes her mine.”

“It was a mistake.”

The heat roared up. I tried not to flinch. Behind me, Starling whimpered. Darling pressed against my ankle, but not a whisper of thought came from him.

“I do not make mistakes, Sorceress. Oaths and oathbreakers are mine. Isn’t that so, Lord Darling? How do you enjoy your new body?”

Darling pressed against me, shivering.

“I meant that it was my mistake.”
Your highness.
How does one address a deity?

The heat dropped a little. My face felt burnt.

“You make many mistakes, Sorceress.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been watching you. I suspect you’ll be mine as well.”

“I’ve obeyed my agreements.”

That yellow gaze burned through the dark shadows in my mind.

“Barely.” Her doubt hummed through me. “Dancing the edge. Foolish human girl. Rogue is a fool, to rest so much on one so…unreliable.”

“I never asked to be here.”

“Didn’t you?” She spun her segmented fingers in the air and Dragonfly appeared on the horse in front of her. The girl stared at me in mute terror. “This game will be over too easily, Sorceress, if you lose so soon. So, here’s a caution for you.”

The spidery hand closed on one of Dragonfly’s silly wings. With a sickening crunch, Titania pulled it off, dripping goo trailing. She tossed it at my feet while Dragonfly screamed piteously. The second wing followed.

“A memento for you. To remember me by.” Titania stopped smiling. “Or do you require further explanations?”

I shook my head, too horrified to answer. Dragonfly sagged in Titania’s lap, held up by one spidery arm while Titania licked her fingers clean of the yellow ooze.

“I’ll see you soon, Sorceress.”

And she was gone.