Storm's Heart

SEVENTEEN

After his scouting venture, Tiago rejoined the party looking refreshed and invigorated. Niniane’s spirits took an upward surge as she watched him approach. He was a superb horseman. His black-clad figure astride the huge dappled gray gelding was eye-catching as they moved across the land with power and grace. He was easily the largest male of the group. The Dark Fae males who reached his height had lean whipcord strength, but they appeared willowy and almost effeminate by comparison.

Tiago approached to check on her welfare, his dark gaze searching her features as she smiled at him. His Power enfolded her in a brief, vibrant, invisible caress. Then he took his leave again. He consulted with Arethusa, collected three soldiers and went ahead on the road.

Then the party reached a bend in a wide shallow river, where Arethusa called a halt for the day. The area had been used several times as a campsite, and the underbrush had already been cleared away. Tiago and his group of soldiers were gathering kindling and chopping wood, so setting up camp became an easy chore for the new arrivals. The temperature began a sharp drop as the sun moved low in the sky. There would be a hard frost that night. Soon several large campfires were set and blazing.

Many of the party had modern nylon domed tents, but Niniane’s tent was a large, luxurious Dark Fae construction, warmed by woolen carpets and sectioned into two rooms by heavy, embroidered wall hangings. The outer sitting room had pillows, two cushioned wooden chairs, lamps and a campfire ring, where a small fire in a brazier chased away the damp and the chill. The second room contained her bed, a stool and a small travel desk, her saddlebags, another lamp that hung from a hook on a metal pole and the two trunks that contained her belongings. There was also, a Dark Fae female soldier informed her, a brass tub. If her highness would like, water could be heated for a hot bath.

Niniane almost groaned out loud when she heard. She and Cameron had hobbled into her tent to collapse in the chairs. They were among the worst off in the group. She didn’t know if the Vampyre’s human attendants also suffered. Cameron was a fit athlete but had never before ridden a horse for hours on end, and it had been many years since Niniane had.

“Is our pain that obvious?” Niniane asked. Cameron had sunk low in her chair and gave her a dour look.

“Yes, ma’am,” said the female soldier. The other Dark Fae female’s face remained impassive, but her gray eyes smiled in sympathy.

Niniane said, “I would be most grateful for a hot bath. Cam?”

“I don’t have a firstborn,” said Cameron. “But you can have mine if I ever do.”

“We will heat water,” said the soldier.

Soon she and two other soldiers brought in the brass hip tub and filled it with pails of steaming water. Niniane stripped without ceremony or self-consciousness and collapsed into the bath. As she soaked, Cameron brought her Aleve and hot spiced cider. Twenty minutes later she dried and dressed in fresh jeans and sweater. She was still sore, but at least she could move with more freedom. She left the other woman to soak and stepped out of the tent.

After the warmth of her tent, the air felt sharp and bracing. The camp had become well established. Her tent was in the most protected area, surrounded by others on all sides and well lit by campfires. The sun had dropped below the tree line. The rich evening light was beginning to fade. It had become diffuse enough that the Vampyres were able to shed their protective clothing.

Aryal sat on a log at the campfire in front of Niniane’s tent, tending several rabbits she roasted on spits over the fire. A couple of nylon coolers were stacked near her long, lean legs. Rune stood near the harpy, his hands on his hips, as he watched the activity around the other fires. Tiago would be around somewhere, Niniane knew, but she couldn’t see him at the moment, and his bag was nowhere in sight. Niniane frowned, crossed her arms and tapped her foot, thinking.

Rune caught sight of her. “Hey, pip-squeak. We’ve got supper here if you’re feeling hungry. There’s the fancy stuff in the coolers, and Aryal wanted fresh, hot meat.”

“About fifteen more minutes and the rabbit will be done,” Aryal said.

“Thanks. Where’s Tiago?”

Rune said in her head, He’s been interacting with the troops, working to build a rapport. They seem to like him. I think he’s trying to get Arethusa to loosen up. She said she would share whatever she found out on her end of the investigation, but then she went tight-mouthed on us. Maybe he can get her to talk.

She nodded and frowned at the leaping flames of the campfire. All she wanted was to take a seat at the campfire, relax her aching body among friends and stay in the protected bubble that had been created for her, but she knew she needed to reach out to the Dark Fae as much as Tiago, if not more. She looked up at Rune, “I should tour the camp.”

He nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

He fell into step behind her as she walked from campfire to campfire. She stopped to talk with the troops, learning each of their names, and she thanked them for setting up such a comfortable campsite. She left them smiling as she walked to Kellen’s site.

The Dark Fae male was eating a simple supper of stew and pan bread. He set it aside to stand as she approached. She raised a hand. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see how everyone was doing. Please, don’t let me interrupt you.”

“But your interruption is the highlight of my day,” Kellen said. He smiled and gestured to the stool beside him. “I’m so glad you came. Please join me. I have such a taste for my man Huwyn’s field stew. I ask him to make it every time we travel. May I offer you some?”

She sat on the stool he offered. She kept her expression bland. A traditional Dark Fae field stew was an autumn hunter’s dish. It consisted of whatever wild game one could catch, cooked with dried berries, herbs and roots. Kellen’s passion for the stew could very well stem from how safe he knew his meal was. She told him, “My supper is being prepared, but I would love to taste Huwyn’s stew. I haven’t had field stew in ages.”

She felt rather than heard Rune move behind her. Kellen’s smile widened. He gave her a knowing look. He offered her his bowl, from which he had already taken several bites. “I would be honored if you tried a bite of mine.”

“Thank you,” she said. She took his bowl and tasted the stew. It was a rich, hearty blend of sweet and savory. She took another big bite before she made herself stop, then she handed the bowl back to him. “That is delicious. Perhaps next time I can coax Huwyn to make a larger pot to share.”

“I know he would be transported with delight,” Kellen told her.

She talked with him for a few minutes about their day, letting the conversation develop a relaxed tone. Then she said, “I would like to run something by you, if I may.”

“Of course,” Kellen said, his intelligent gaze fixing on her expression.

She regarded the leaping flames of his campfire as she sought to find the right words. “I know how much tradition means to you, and how much it means to many of the Dark Fae,” she said at last. “It is important to me to honor our traditions while also looking for ways to open up Dark Fae society to new opportunities. I think striking a balance may be tricky, and I’m hoping to talk with you from time to time about my ideas, if you’re open to that.”

“I would be delighted and honored to talk things over with you,” he said at once. He gave her a smile that redesigned the tiny lines on his lean, spare face. “Sometimes I can be too hidebound. Your fresh ideas are just what the Dark Fae need right now.”

“I hope so,” she told him. “For example, while we were in Chicago, I looked around at that great big mansion and got to thinking. The property is fully staffed but for the most part it sits unused. I thought maybe it could be turned into a school. People could go to stay for six-week courses and learn about technology and take computer classes, that sort of thing. We have so many magnificent metallurgists. I wonder what they would make of computers and other electronic devices. We need to open up our borders and interact more with the outside world, and I thought that might be one way to stimulate innovation and economic growth.”

Kellen’s brows rose as she talked. As she fell silent, he said slowly, “I think that’s an excellent and very generous idea. I also like the fact that the property is so protected. Chicago can be quite a shock to the system after one has lived in Adriyel for so long.”

She smiled. “I’m so glad you agree.”

They talked about the idea for a school for a while longer. It was easy to avoid difficult topics by focusing on a positive subject. When she rose, he stood also and reached out to touch her arm. “This was exciting,” he said. “I’m glad you stopped by.”

“I am too,” she told him. “Let’s talk again soon.”

She wished him a good evening and walked toward Aubrey and Naida’s camp, Rune a quiet shadow at her back. Inwardly she was in more turmoil than ever. She wanted to bond with Kellen. Admittedly they did not see eye-to-eye on some important things like Tiago coming to Adriyel, and her truthsense was not all that evolved, but she liked him. Under more normal circumstances she would have stayed longer and enjoyed his company. She wanted to look forward to relying on his legal wisdom and experience.

Naida and Aubrey were relaxed at their campfire, drinking mulled wine. Nylon food coolers lay open at their feet. Apparently they had no problem with eating what the kitchen staff had prepared for them. They both rose as she approached.

“Niniane,” Aubrey said. He took her hands and kissed her cheek. “How nice of you to stop by. How are you doing on your first day out?”

She snorted. “After a hot bath and some medicine, I have achieved miserable.”

Naida smiled at her. “I think you did remarkably well. You’ll have your riding muscles back in no time. How was the mare?”

“She was perfect,” Niniane told them. “A real joy to ride.”

“Will you join us?” Aubrey asked.

She told them the same thing she had told Kellen. “I have supper waiting back at my campfire, but I would be delighted to join you for a few minutes.”

She was pleased to note that Aubrey looked behind her to Rune and made a special point to include him in the invitation. As far as Kellen was concerned, Rune had joined the metaphorical woodwork where all guards and servants existed. Rune sat, and the four of them talked about the day. Rune made an easy fireside companion. Niniane hid a smile behind one hand as she watched Naida grow brighter and almost flirtatious in the sentinel’s presence. It was easier to enjoy Naida away from the pressure and tensions of the rest of the group.

Naida said to her, “That clothing you’re wearing seems so wonderfully functional.”

Niniane laughed. “You mean my jeans? Yes, they are. They can stand a lot of wear and tear, and they’re quite comfortable.” She hesitated then said, “I didn’t bring much in the way of clothing with me, just some travel outfits and a few mementos. I’ve been noticing how elegant your clothes are, and I admire your sense of style. I hope you don’t mind if I ask you for advice on clothiers. I am interested in developing a more traditional wardrobe.”

Both Naida and Aubrey looked pleased. “I would be honored,” Naida told her. “Perhaps we can spend an afternoon together so I can get an idea of the colors you like.”

“I look forward to it.” Niniane smiled and stood. “Please, don’t get up. I’ve interrupted your evening enough.”

But no matter what she said, they stood anyway. “I’m glad you came,” Naida said, her voice warm. “Let’s talk again soon.”

Niniane nodded, gave them both a smile and turned away. As soon as her back was turned to the other Dark Fae, her smile dropped away, and she scowled. Rune fell into step beside her, moving with lazy grace, as she headed toward the Vampyre camp.

Rune said, “I notice our supper does not lie in this direction.”

“I have one more stop I want to make,” she growled.

“Perhaps you would enjoy your next visit with a sunnier attitude if it were accomplished after supper,” he suggested.

“Oh shut up,” she said.

“My case in point.” He raised his eyebrows and looked bland when she glowered at him. “I’m just sayin’.”

The evening still showed hints of the day’s golden sunlight, but shadows were deepening across the clearing and glowing lanterns had begun to appear in strategic places as she and Rune approached the Nightkind encampment. Rhoswen, Duncan, the other male Vampyre and their human companions (attendants? servants? food supply?) were gathered around a communal campfire. The group looked relaxed. The humans had made short work of their portion of the supper supplied by the Chicago kitchen staff. Perhaps their air of relaxation was an illusion, but Niniane envied them their ease in each other’s company.

She was amused to see that the humans were not prompt in rising to their feet at her appearance. They only did so after Rhoswen gave them a glare. She would miss modern Americans’ casual ease of manner.

She said to Rhoswen, “I was hoping to have a word with Carling.”

After a brief pause, the blond Vampyre said, “Certainly. The Councillor is down at the river. She invites you to join her.”

“Thank you.”

Niniane went in the direction Rhoswen indicated. She followed a short trail through bushes to arrive at the river’s edge, while Rune kept pace at her back. As the evening sky darkened, the brightest stars began to shine. The river rippled silver in the fading light, and the fiery foliage colors on both banks turned muted. At first she looked along the near bank for Carling. It was only when Niniane saw pale material draped on a nearby bush that she thought to look out over the river. She found Carling’s sleek dark head cutting through the water.

“Oh my God,” she said. She shuddered. The water had to be so frigid it was bone numbing. Anybody who fell into it would run the risk of hypothermia in minutes if they were, well, alive. “You don’t feel the cold?”

Rune looked amused as he parked himself by leaning against a nearby birch tree with his arms crossed. Carling’s husky chuckle sounded over the water. The Vampyre swam against the current. Her lazy-looking breaststroke made it look effortless.

“I feel it,” said Carling. She ducked her head under the water and came up to the surface again. “It just doesn’t affect me like it does you.”

“Is it the same as sunlight?”

“That is a different matter,” said the Vampyre.

“How so?” Niniane had been dying to ask ever since she had seen Carling step into the sunshine at the hotel.

“I cloak myself with Power so that I can walk in sunlight. Otherwise I would have to cloak myself with clothing and sunscreen, like the other Vampyres do, or the sun would burn me to ash just as it would them. I can step through sunlight and can look upon it, but I can no longer feel it on my skin and survive.”

“That must be exhausting.”

“I would not want to travel for weeks in the daylight without respite, but this short trip is fine.”

Carling swam toward the shore and walked out of the water. Niniane lost her breath. The Vampyre’s sleek, wet, nude body glinted with the silver edge of the fading light. Her full breasts, slim waist and strong shapely legs were perfectly formed and sinuously graceful, but there any pretence to perfection ended, for she was tiger-striped from shoulder to thigh, her body covered with dozens of long white lash scars. Someone had beaten her badly when she had been human, beaten her so badly she must have been near death.

Niniane clenched her teeth and grew teary. Carling gave her a brief disinterested glance as she stepped to shore. Then the Vampyre’s attention moved to Rune and paused for what could have passed for a heartbeat.

Niniane turned to Rune too.

He stared at Carling. His handsome face was carved into stark lines, the bones standing out. The lines of his body thrummed with tension, the muscles cut with rigidity. His golden lion’s eyes blazed.

Carling turned from the sentinel. She plucked her clean caftan from the bush and shrugged it on, her movements languid and unhurried. Her expression remained bored, and her face and body gleamed with radiance.

“Perhaps we should talk in my tent,” Carling said.

Niniane followed Carling back to the campsite. The Vampyre stepped inside her tent, which was a large, modern nylon affair with zipped-up windows. Niniane paused at the entrance. She said to Rune, “Please wait here. I know Tiago wanted me to stay with one of you at all times, but I’m only going to be on the other side of this canvas.”

Rune nodded without speaking.

She hesitated. She didn’t know what she was tempted to ask him, maybe just if he was all right, but his expression was tight, closed-in, and his body language warned her away. She sighed. Sometimes Wyr were inexplicable.

She stepped in the tent. Inside it was decorated with the damask silk hangings and the mahogany inlaid trunk from the hotel. There were no chairs, just a scattering of pillows on a rug. Carling poured two glasses of red wine. Her dark wet hair lay sleek against her head. She turned and offered a glass to Niniane, who took it. Then Carling sank down to sit cross-legged on a floor pillow. Niniane tried not to show her struggle as she eased her aching body down onto another pillow.

Carling sipped wine. “What do you need?”

“Some advice, if you can give it.” Niniane rubbed her eyes. There was no point in beating around the bush. She asked the Vampyre, “Do you know if any of the Dark Fae in this group tried to kill me?”

“No,” said Carling. “I do not.”

Niniane struggled to verbalize her next question. It was surprisingly hard to ask. “How do they—feel to you?”

Carling shrugged. “They feel like people.”

“I mean emotionally. Could you tell if one of them was feeling violent?”

Carling’s eyebrows raised. “Certainly. I can also tell when they are feeling sad or angry, and when they feel dislike or joy. None of these emotions have anything to do with whether or not they have committed, or have conspired to commit murder.”

Niniane ground her teeth and growled. “This is so frustrating. I just spent time with each one—well, except for Arethusa, who’s been busy this evening. I enjoyed each one’s company. They all acted like they liked me.”

“No doubt they do like you, and why wouldn’t they? You are an engaging person.” Carling smiled. “But I have killed someone I liked before. I have killed someone and felt regret. I have also sensed violent emotions from you, but you have not erupted into violent action. Emotions are like colors, Niniane. Thoughts and actions provide structure and purpose to a person. It is only when you put them all together that they begin to form a real picture. The Dark Fae are a complex people, with many years of memory and motivation to influence their actions and ambitions.”

“Okay,” Niniane said. She swallowed wine. “I guess I was looking for a shortcut, and there isn’t one.”

“I’m sorry, no there isn’t.” Carling paused then said, “But now that we have a chance to talk, I would offer you a word of advice about something else.”

“By all means.” Niniane drank more wine. “Please do.”

“I suggest you go carefully with Tiago. All of the Dark Fae are feeling threatened and aggressive about him, except perhaps for Aubrey, whose reaction has been surprisingly low-key.”

Niniane asked, “How has Aubrey reacted?”

“I would say he’s concerned, maybe even troubled, but I have not picked up feelings of aggression from him.”

Did that mean Aubrey was taking Tiago’s presence well, or did that mean he wasn’t too threatened by Tiago’s presence since he planned on killing her anyway? Argh. This kind of thing was going to drive her around the bend. She tossed back the last of her wine.

Carling continued. “I think there is only so far you can take your relationship with Tiago and hope to hold the throne in peace. No Dark Fae will ever tolerate a Wyr as ruler. In fact, I will take that statement further. No other Elder demesne will tolerate it. Power among the United States Elder Races is carefully balanced. The Wyr cannot be seen as taking more than their allotted share.”

“Tiago and I have discussed that,” Niniane said. “He has no interest in the throne.”

“I am not talking about just Tiago,” Carling said. “I am talking about any potential heir.”

Niniane went still. Even her mind stopped working. She said past a sudden rasp in her throat, “You mean any children I might have?”

“Let me be blunt,” Carling said. “You cannot take the throne, have children with Tiago and hope to avoid war, either civil war with the Dark Fae, or war with the other demesnes.”

The restrictive band around her chest was back. She moved carefully to set her wineglass aside and forced herself to take slow deep breaths.

“I take it you have not considered these consequences.” Carling’s voice was gentle.

“I’ve been busy,” Niniane said.

“You could consider a marriage of state,” Carling said. “Have an heir and perhaps a spare, and maintain a private agreement with—”

“No,” said Niniane. Everything in her reacted violently to the thought, and that was without taking into consideration how Tiago would react. He would never allow it. He would kill anyone she might try to marry. “That is not going to happen.”

Carling was silent for a moment. Then she rose to her feet and went to collect the half-empty bottle of wine. She poured more for Niniane and then herself.

“Perhaps you can take your cues from history,” Carling said. “Consider the English. Edward VIII abdicated because his government would never accept Wallis Simpson. To them, marriage meant she would ascend to the throne. Do you think the Dark Fae would accept a marriage between you and Tiago, and trust that he would not also share the throne?”

Niniane drank her wine and stared into space. “No,” she said.

“Then there is Elizabeth I,” Carling said. “I liked Elizabeth. She was a clever woman. She used the possibility of making a marriage by alliance as a diplomatic ploy, but of course she never followed through. If she had lovers, she was so discreet it could never be proven. And no matter how much her parliament pressured her to do so, she never named an heir, so she avoided making her throne vulnerable to a coup.”

At that last, Niniane’s gaze snapped to Carling’s face. The Vampyre’s expression was serene, Madonna-like. She grumbled, “Conversations with you never go as I expect.”

She finished the bottle of wine with Carling then said goodnight and stepped outside. Rune fell into step beside her, and they walked back to her camp. Tiago sat with Cameron and Aryal at the campfire, eating supper. Niniane drank in the sight of Tiago. He sat with his elbows on his knees as he inspected the contents of an open cooler between his feet. He was not participating in Cameron and Aryal’s conversation, but he was listening. He looked burnished. Vitality poured off him, yet he appeared more relaxed and at ease than she could ever remember him looking in New York. Adriyel seemed to suit him.

Then he looked up, caught sight of her, and his relaxation vaporized. He rose to his feet, and his face assumed a hatchetedged aggression. He said in her head, What’s wrong?

She looked at him, affectionate exasperation breaking through her tiredness. How did you know?

Your scent. In two quick strides he was in front of her. He cupped her elbows as he looked down at her in concern. Tell me what’s happened.

Her eyes grew damp. She put a hand to his chest and stroked him. I promise I will tell you all about it very soon, but I am not ready right now. I have to think about some things before I know how to talk about it.

Okay, he said. “Why don’t you sit and have supper? I heard you haven’t eaten yet.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said. “I’m going to turn in.”

His expression darkened. “Faerie.”

She closed her eyes. Don’t push me right now, Tiago.

He put his forehead to hers. I can’t make it better if you don’t talk to me.

Maybe you can’t make this better. Sometimes things just hurt, she said. His hands tightened, and she opened her eyes to be jolted by his fierce stare. She steeled herself and said, I will talk to you soon. Right now I am going to bed. I need to have some time to myself to think, so . . . I need to go to bed alone, please.

His lips parted to reveal clenched teeth, and his Power pressed down on her. She knew it had to go against all of his instincts, but after a moment he eased back. His hold on her elbows loosened. I will be in telepathic range, he said. You are to call me if you have the slightest need, do you hear?

Telepathic range. That meant he would stay within ten or fifteen feet of her. She relaxed and nodded. I love you.

We will have that talk, Niniane, he said.

Soon, I promise.

He let her go and stepped back. The others had fallen silent, appearing to concentrate on their own thoughts as they ate. She nodded to them and stepped inside her tent. It was warm from the brazier where the fire had died down to glowing red coals.

She went straight to her bed, stripped down to her T-shirt and crawled shivering onto the pallet. There she curled into a ball as she waited for the bed to warm. Tiago would have had it warm in seconds. He would have warmed her heart too, in almost every way except for the one that was hurting now.

Nature seemed to compensate for those who were long-lived, and children were correspondingly rare and precious. Added to that, she had never dared to consider having children when her life had been under such constant threat. The possibility of having a child was always a part of some vague, undefined “sometime” in the future.

She had not considered that she might never be able to have children.

She ran through everything Carling had said again. Niniane could not fault the Vampyre’s logic in the slightest.

The bed warmed but she remained curled in a tight ball. She fell asleep, huddled around that cold internal place.

A shout splintered the cool silence in her head. She bolted into a sitting position as someone shouted again. Heavy footsteps ran past outside.

She shrank back as Tiago tore past the wall hanging, his sword drawn. His face was savage in the shadowed tent. He said, “Get dressed.”

Her heart hammered. “What’s happened?”

“I don’t know.”

She leaped out of bed and slipped on jeans, boots and a sweater. Then she grabbed her stiletto sheaths and jammed them in the pocket of her jeans. As soon as she stood, he took her by the arm and marched outside with her. Cameron stood in front of the tent with a short sword drawn as well. The rest of the camp churned with chaos.

Tiago put an arm around Niniane’s shoulders and clamped her to his side. She put her arms around his waist. Aryal pushed past several frightened attendants who were milling about. The harpy snapped at them, “Get the hell out of the way. Go back to your campsites and stay there until you’re told to do otherwise.”

They took one look at the harpy’s expression and scattered.

Aryal strode toward Tiago, Cameron and Niniane, her raptor’s eyes blistering with adrenaline and anger. The harpy looked ready, even eager, for a fight.

“What?” Tiago barked.

Aryal came to a halt in front of the other three.

She said, “Arethusa’s dead.”