Carnal Magic: The Wraith Accords, Book 1 (7 page)

After spending time with the other Tuatha de Danaan, Isabel was sure she’d been right about Aed the first time. That coupled with the warnings he’d imparted before dinner made her think there was more to the story. She had a split second to regret the time she’d wasted sequestered in her room, and to make a decision—trust Aed, who’d already betrayed her, but who in her heart she felt was a good man, or stand alone, trusting no one.

“My apologies for not giving you time to explain.” Isabel was aware of everyone staring at them. It was not exactly an ideal time to have this conversation, but she needed an ally.

“I failed you. I should not have been so easy to manipulate.”

Isabel heard what was not said—
I was tricked into opening the door. I did not intend to harm you. Anyone strong enough to force me to act is powerful and dangerous.

Meeting his gaze, she nodded once, hoping to impart that she understood what he was saying.

Aed returned her nod.

Isabel was overcome with the need to see him smile. If she could take the image of his smile and hold it against her, she might keep herself from lashing out in what would come next.

“I expect that if you’re going to kill me, you would…” Isabel raised a brow.

“If I decide to kill you, you will be dead in a second.”

She smiled. “That’s much better.”

Aed frowned.

“That clumsy attempt was rather insulting.”

Aed’s surprised laughter was a merry sound in the otherwise grim room. He was smiling, and it was glorious.

Isabel turned away.

“Wait, Isabel.” Aed’s words were just loud enough to be heard. He stepped up behind her and bent to whisper in her ear. “Don’t play their game. No good can come of it.”

“I will play. And if I get in trouble—” She looked over her shoulder at him, “—you will have to get me out of it.”

Aed shook his head and stepped back.

“Lady Isabel, is Aed your choice?” Cairbe was looking between them.

“I’d thought to choose him. After all, what could be more impressive than bringing a member of the famed Fianna to his knees?” Isabel circled the couches around the fire. “But then I reconsidered. After all, Aed is my guard, and it seems foolish to abuse someone tasked with protecting me.”

“Surely you don’t feel you need protection in Tara. You are our honored guest.” Cairbe frowned in exaggerated concern.

“Of course not, Your Highness, but I haven’t stayed alive this long by being less than cautious. Instead, I think I’ll follow Deocha’s example.”

Evon still knelt in front of the fire, cradling his destroyed hand on his lap. Isabel picked up her wine glass and drained it, then laid her free hand on Evon’s shoulder.

Deocha smiled. “He’s already broken and not exactly a challenge.”

“He is the perfect candidate for what I have in mind. Prince Cairbe, do you have a cloth I might borrow? White, preferably.”

Cairbe closed his eyes, then reached out and plucked a cloth napkin from the air. Isabel took it, tucking it into her sleeve, smiling wide enough for her fangs to show.

“You’re going to drink from him?” Niamh asked casually.

Tension filled the air, though no one moved. It was the kind of studied casualness that indicated everyone was waiting for something.

Isabel
tsk
ed. “Princess, I’m surprised you are not more familiar with the treaty between our people. The Wraith Accords forbid a vampire from drinking the blood of one of the Tuatha de Danaan.”

Like air being let out of a balloon, the tension in the room released. Did they really think they would catch her making such a stupid mistake? Niamh was young, if not in years then in experience, and her clumsy conversation and attempts at manipulation were like fireworks and bombs compared to Caibre’s much subtler and dangerous machinations.

“I knew that.” Niamh crossed her arms.

“Well then, I’m sure that you and Deocha will appreciate the subtlety of the distinction I’m about to make. I cannot drink from Evon, but the Accords do not stop me from biting him.”

At her feet the man whimpered softly. Everyone else leaned forward, their eagerness to see a vampire at work comically obvious. Isabel grabbed the neck of Evon’s tunic and jerked him to his feet. He was slightly taller than her, his neck level with her mouth and chin.

She pulled back her lips, showing him her fangs. His ashen face couldn’t get any paler, but his eyes went glossy with fear.

“Evon, look at me.”

His silver eyes flickered side to side, then settled on her face.

“My name is Isabel. Say it.”

“My lady, please…”

“No, Evon. Say my name.”

“Isabel.”

“What color are my eyes, Evon?” Isabel reached up and laced her fingers through his hair.

“They’re brown and gold.”

“And my lips? What color are they?”

Evon’s gaze dipped to her lips. “They’re red.”

Isabel drew Evon’s head down until their mouths were millimeters apart. She couldn’t stop herself from looking over the injured man’s shoulder at Aed. His hand dropped to his sword, and there was fire in his eyes as he watched her with Evon.

Good.

Isabel ran her tongue over her lips, then dragged her mouth along Evon’s jaw to his ear. She could hear his rapid heartbeat, smell his blood pumping under his skin. Isabel licked his neck just under his ear, where the skin was thin.

She did not desire Evon—he was food. Food that needed to be wooed. Vampires excreted chemicals in their saliva that numbed human skin, gave them pleasure and helped the skin heal. The Sage in New York had even done scientific analysis and knew exactly how and why vampire saliva had those effects on humans. Isabel didn’t care how it worked, only that it did.

The danger was that Evon wasn’t human. He was something else and might be immune. If that was the case, her plan would fail.

Isabel inhaled the scent of his blood, and fresh saliva pooled in her mouth. She licked him again and again. Evon shuddered and started to relax.

“Evon, I want you to kneel down.”

Without hesitation he dropped to the floor. Isabel hid her satisfaction. He wasn’t immune, though if he’d been human he would have been in a trance by now.

Isabel tugged her skirt up a bit and then knelt behind the young man. She pulled him back until his head rested on her shoulder, his neck just below her mouth. Isabel fisted her hand in his hair, jerking his head to the side. Evon moaned, but it wasn’t in pain. Isabel licked his neck again, accepting the weight of his torso as he relaxed against her.

“Evon, do you want to please me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m thirsty. Do you want me to be thirsty?”

“No, Isabel.” His answer was almost singsong.

“I want to drink your blood. Would you like that?”

“Yes. Yes.” He turned to kiss her, but Isabel jerked his head to the side.

“No, Evon. You don’t touch me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I want you to do something for me, Evon.”

“Yes, Isabel?”

“Give me your right hand.”

Evon whimpered and tensed. Isabel licked his neck again. It would be faster if she kissed him, but she wouldn’t do that. She suspected that kissing someone like Evon, who clearly had very little rank, would make her look weak. He relaxed against her once more, raising his right arm.

“Evon, offer me your blood.” Isabel released his head, cradling his upper body in her left arm and grabbing his right forearm with her free hand. Her hair flowed over his shoulders and chest.

Evon tipped his head farther to the side and strained upwards, the lovely, smooth column of his throat hers for the taking.

Old as she was, she didn’t need the blood, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t hungry. Her breathing quickened to pants as she stared at the throbbing vein in his neck.

Isabel lowered her head. She savored the moment before penetration, anticipation sweet and dark on her tongue. With exquisite control, Isabel pierced his neck with her fangs, sinking them in deep enough to penetrate skin, dermis and the small vein that paralleled his jugular. Willing her fangs to retract, Isabel licked the wounds, forcing saliva into his bloodstream. Within seconds his beating heart had drawn in her saliva and pumped it out to the rest of his body. His breathing came hard and fast, his body arching up in what could have been either ecstasy or agony. Only Isabel knew that it was pleasure that caused him to thrash against her. She’d implied that her bite would hurt and cause him to suffer, and so that is what they would see—suffering.

With her mouth still on his neck, Isabel grabbed his right hand. Working by feel she forced his fingers back into place. Her own stomach rolled as she felt the shards of bone moving inside his palm, which was hot and swollen.

Evon screamed. No one but Isabel knew that though her manipulation of his damaged hand was surely agony, he felt ecstasy—the chemicals in her saliva tricking his brain so that he couldn’t tell pain from pleasure anymore. It was the blessing of the Vampire.

Isabel looked up, sweeping her gaze over the onlookers. Cairbe’s eyes were bright with interest. Niamh and Deocha looked alarmed. Fionn was braced, as if he were considering jumping up to stop her.

Holding Princess Niamh’s gaze, Isabel sank the tips of her fangs in once more, opening the punctures that had started to close. Evon reacted, his back arching, his good hand clawing at Isabel’s head.

With a flourish she released his right hand, which dropped to his lap. Isabel drew her mouth from his neck, sealing the punctures with one final swipe of her tongue. Raising her empty wine glass, she spat out the blood in her mouth, then took the white cloth and wiped her teeth and tongue, making sure that she didn’t swallow.

She rose, letting Evon drop to the floor. He was twitching in residual pleasure, but Isabel was sure no one but her could tell it wasn’t pain that wracked him.

Isabel held up the glass and cloth. “Prince Cairbe, are you satisfied that I did not drink from him?”

The prince nodded. “I am. I watched. You did not swallow.”

Isabel inclined her head, then turned and threw both the cloth and the glass into the fire. There was too much of her on the items.

Fionn laughed. Isabel wasn’t sure what he found funny.

The warrior prince snapped his fingers and a glass of wine appeared in his hand. “A fresh glass, Lady Isabel.”

Stepping over Evon, Isabel accepted the wine. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Deocha was staring at Evon. “You repaired his hand.”

Isabel shrugged. “Perhaps. You wanted a contradiction. What better juxtaposition than agony as the price to regain what was lost?”

Before Isabel could take a seat, Princess Niamh jumped to her feet.

“My turn.” She pointed at Aed. “I’ll abuse him.”

Isabel felt Niamh’s gaze on her. It was clear the princess was waiting for a reaction. Isabel had lingered too long speaking with him earlier, and Niamh had realized there was something between her and Aed.

Isabel took a sip of wine, forcing herself not to react. She took a seat and smiled. “If it takes a princess of the Tuatha de Danaan to bring a warrior of the Fianna to his knees, then I’m glad I did not attempt it myself.”

Niamh’s attention was focuses on Isabel, and after a moment’s study she smiled. Isabel had a horrible feeling that despite her best effort to appear nonchalant the princess knew that the idea of Aed being tortured panicked Isabel. Especially since it would be her fault—she’d paid too much attention to Aed and made him a pawn to be used against her.

“Fenians are strong.” Princess Niamh beckoned Aed over. “I can make the game last for hours.”

C
hapter Seven

A
ed took a knee before the princess, resigned to the pain to come. He wished he’d had a chance to eat or sleep—both those things would help him control his reactions. It would not do to appear easily broken. He was a Fenian, son of Goll, and had a reputation to uphold.

“Your Highness, before you begin, please designate another of the Fianna to guard the ambassador, in case I am not able after your…game.” He kept his head down as he spoke. He didn’t want to see Isabel’s face.

Niamh sighed. “Fionn?”

“Niamh, are you really going to abuse Aed?” The prince sounded pained.

“Why not?”

“He is a warrior of the Fianna.”

“So? I’ve done it before, and the Fianna don’t really do anything anymore. I won’t hurt his arms or legs. He’ll still be able to fight.”

Aed caught Prince Fionn’s wince in his peripheral vision. The princess was both coddled and vicious. The queen rarely allowed her outside the palace, and she knew very little about how the world worked. Like so many inside Tara, she was unaware of the dangers facing the Tuatha de Danaan.

“Your insult the Fianna, sister. Watch your words.”

Niamh slapped Aed. The blow was unexpected and Aed’s head snapped to the side. Slight as she was, the Princess of Winter wielded great strength.

“I’ll do with him what I want.”

The floor beneath Aed’s knees rumbled. He might have thought it was his imagination, or the effect of his still-ringing head, if Cairbe hadn’t jumped to his feet.

“Get out, all of you.” The prince’s order had an instant effect. Everyone but the royal family, Aed and Isabel darted from the receiving room. In a matter of moments everyone was gone, the Tuatha de Danaan scurrying back to their homes. The high houses all had residences in the palace, and some of the lower houses lived outside the castle but within the walls, while others had chambers in the
sídhe
. Only a few had residences outside the walls on the cliffs adjacent to the one on which the castle sat.

Aed got to his feet, hand on his sword. “I will take the ambassador to her room.”

Cairbe’s face was pale. “Thank you, Aed. Please forgive my sister.”

“Do not apologize for me. What’s happening?” Niamh was looking between her brothers.

The ground rumbled again.

Aed grabbed Isabel’s wrist. “My lady, we must go.”

“Fionn, take care of Niamh.” Cairbe’s elegant garments melted away to be replaced by armor.

“Brother, tell me what the threat is and I will help you.” A sword appeared in Fionn’s hand.

“I can’t. Just keep Niamh safe.”

The princes’ conversation faded as Aed and Isabel exited into the throne room.

I
sabel tugged her wrist from Aed’s grip. When he looked back, mouth open to demand that she hurry, she picked up her skirt with both hands, sliding the fitted part higher up her legs so she had greater range of motion.

“I’ll move faster this way.”

He nodded. “Do you have other clothes?”

“I can’t create things from thin air like you do.”

“Stay close.” At an intersection Aed peered around the corner before motioning her to follow. “We don’t create things from the air.”

“Really? Because I saw it happen.”

“We move things. They exist somewhere else in Tara. We only move them from place to place.” Aed opened his senses as much as he dared, hoping he’d feel trouble before they ran into it.

“So when the banquet tables disappeared?”

“They were sent to the kitchen workrooms.”

“That certainly saves time in clearing the table.”

The castle rumbled again.

“Is it an earthquake?” Isabel’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

“No.”

“Am I in danger?”

Aed hesitated. “Maybe.”

“Will you protect me?”

“Yes.”

“Were you ordered to kill me? Is that why you let in the sunlight?”

Aed stopped to face her, glad she’d asked the question directly. “No. But I let my guard down after we…uh…”

Isabel’s lips twitched. “After we made love.”

“Made love?” Aed cleared his throat.

Isabel touched his cheek—the cheek Niamh had slapped. “What would you call it?” She pulled her hand back and her fingers were tipped in blood. Aed hadn’t realized the princess’s blow had split his lip, leaving a trail of blood on his face.

“I…don’t know.”

“Sex is too clinical a term for what we had.”

Aed cupped her cheek, mimicking her movement. “I failed you. I did not protect you.”

“And I did not listen when you wanted to explain.”

He searched her face. “What made you think differently?”

“I realized during the feast that burning was too clumsy and unpredictable a method of execution for someone like you to use. As I said, I’m sure that if you meant to kill me it would be something much more refined.”

“If I needed to kill you there would be no way to stop me.”

Isabel smirked. “You don’t know all my tricks.”

“I know I have no desire to be bitten by you. Will Evon survive?” Aed would not forget the image of the boy writhing in pain under Isabel.

Isabel ducked away from his hand, then carefully wiped her bloody fingers on the hem of her skirt. Something about the set of her shoulders made him think he’d hurt her feelings.

“I’m not a poisonous snake. Of course he will survive.”

Aed winced. “I’m sorry, my lady. I meant no offense.”

When she didn’t respond, he motioned for her to follow and they resumed their trek through Tara.

Isabel considered telling Aed the truth about what she’d done, but didn’t. Aed was the closest thing she had to an ally in this strange place, but anything she told him would in turn be told to others. Best to keep secrets, though she couldn’t prevent Evon from saying something. Considering how much saliva she’d forced into him, he might not remember her touch at all.

They walked for several minutes in silence. The corridors were deserted, though unlike the first night each was well lit with evenly spaced torches. After seeing the crowd in the throne room, it was eerie that they hadn’t run across someone else.

“It was kind of you to try to fix his hand.”

Aed’s comment took her by surprise. “The bones are in place, but if the tendons are shredded what I did won’t help.”

“Tuath can heal almost anything. I only hope Deocha doesn’t mangle the boy again out of spite.”

“Evon is from one of the lower houses?”

“Yes, and he is not the main line of that house, so he has very little protection.”

“And Deocha’s house?”

“A high house. They mourn the loss of the Tuatha de’s power, and their own.”

“What power was lost?”

The ground shook, this time hard enough that Isabel fell. Aed stumbled into the wall.

A door appeared in the stone beside Aed’s shoulder. Brown furred hands came out of the darkness, grabbing Aed by the collar of his armor. He was jerked back through the doorway, which promptly closed and disappeared.

Isabel stared at the wall in shock. Aed was gone, simply gone.

She scrambled to her feet, running shaky hands along the wall. The polished stone was smooth and cool under her fingers. There were no seams in the rock, no telltale drafts.

She pounded against the wall. “Aed!”

The trepidation she’d felt when she first realized how large and elaborate Tara was, how vulnerable she would be if she got lost in the dangerous maze, flared into full panic. But it wasn’t just panic for herself that had Isabel breathing fast—she was terrified for Aed. Had the princess grabbed him to torture him as a way of hurting her? Had he been taken by the unknown enemy who’d manipulated him into opening the door?

“Aed!” She paced along the wall, her palms skimming the stone, hoping she’d find a way to follow him.

“Do you know the way?”

Isabel stilled, her hands planted against the wall, fingers spread. The voice had come from behind her, close enough that the whisper was easily understood.

“Know the way to what?” Isabel asked, deceptively calm.

“The way out.”

This time she was able to pinpoint where the woman—the voice was definitely female—was standing. Isabel stepped out of her heels, balancing on the balls of her feet in preparation for a fight.

She kept her back to the stranger. “The way out of the palace? I’m not the person you should ask.”

“The way out of Fae.”

Before the woman had finished speaking, Isabel was spinning. The speaker wore a long cloak with a hood. She stumbled back when Isabel moved. There was a blast of wind that buffeted Isabel, but it wasn’t strong enough to halt her forward momentum.

Isabel caught the figure by the shoulder, shoving her back against the opposite wall of the corridor. Hissing, fangs bared, Isabel jerked the hood down, expecting to see one of the women who’d been lounging on the couches.

The tie to the cloak broke from the force of Isabel’s movement, the heavy velvet falling to the floor and revealing the figure beneath.

A dark-haired woman stared at Isabel with defiant eyes. She wore brown trousers, a long sleeved shirt and a brown lace vest with a silver crest on the breast. There were patches on the knees of the pants and the shirt was dirty—not recently soiled, but the kind of staining that came from long use and infrequent washing. Her hair was short, the ends uneven around her neck. She wore no make-up and a single tight-fitting gold bracelet.

The woman’s face was lovely, but without the haunting beauty that seemed common here. She also looked older than the other females Isabel had met—if she were human she would have been forty.

Human.

Isabel leaned in and took a deep breath, inhaling the woman’s scent. With a start she jerked back. “You’re human.”

The woman licked her lips, then spoke, this time in English instead of French. “You can tell?”

“Who are you?” Isabel replied in the same language.

“Please, is it true that the vampires know how to get out of Fae?”

Isabel searched the woman’s face, trying desperately to understand. “I thought that there were no humans in Fae. I thought the Tuatha de lost their connection with humanity and that’s why they…” Isabel didn’t finish the thought, distracted by the rage that had transformed the woman’s face.

“Lost their connection? Is that what they told you?”

“Who are you?”

“Is it true? The vampires have a way out?”

Should she tell this unexpected human the truth? The portals weren’t secret—they were a main part of the Wraith Accords—so why didn’t this woman know that?

“In the Vampire city there are doorways to the human world.” Isabel decided it was better to give some information in hopes of getting some in return.

“And the human world, is it still at war?”

“War? There are many wars—what war do you mean?”

She frowned. “The Great War.”

Isabel blinked. “The World War?”

“Yes. Is it still going on?”

“No. It’s been over for a hundred years.”

“A…a hundred years.” The woman jerked out of Isabel’s hold. She closed her eyes, lip quavering slightly.

“Who are you? When were you born?”

The woman crouched and reached for the cloak, slowly gathering it to her, clutching it as if for comfort. She pressed her hand to the wall. A door like the one Aed had been pulled into appeared. “Please don’t tell them.” The human ducked inside, the wall sealing shut behind her.

Isabel stared at the spot where the woman had been.

There was a clatter and then Aed stumbled into the corridor. His hair was mussed, and there was a bandage over the cut at the corner of his mouth. He held his sword in one hand and a biscuit in the other.

A biscuit?

Isabel stared at Aed, who returned her baffled regard.

With a sigh he looked down, then held out his hand. “Biscuit?”

I
sabel looked baffled. “Where were you?”

Realizing Isabel wasn’t in any danger and probably didn’t want the biscuit, he popped it into his mouth. He needed his hand free to protect her, after all. Aed finished eating his cookie before replying. “There are hidden servants’ corridors running throughout the castle.”

Isabel shook her head as if she were confused. “Why do you have a cookie?”

“They gave me a cookie.”

“The servants?”

“Yes.”

Isabel sighed. “I thought you’d been kidnapped and were being tortured.”

“For a moment I thought the same thing about you.”

“So you decided to eat a cookie?” Isabel rolled her eyes and laughed, then slipped on her shoes, which lay on the floor by the wall. “It’s a good thing I can take care of myself.”

“No, I realized it was just a mistake. When I hit the wall, the
aos sí
must have thought I was knocking to be let in. They wanted to bandage me and then well…biscuits.” He would have immediately returned to Isabel if he’d thought she were in danger. But he’d been mobbed by well-meaning servants who were clearly excited that a Fenian had come to them looking for help. That and he was starving. He’d eaten a dozen biscuits and was feeling much better for it.

“The who?”

“The
aos sí
.” Aed motioned for her to follow. “I think today the humans call them fairies or fae.”

“So fairies are real?”

“What do your books say, Sage?” Aed smiled back at her, and when she returned the smile Aed’s heart gave a traitorous thump.

“There are more stories and accounts than there are stars in the sky. Much of what is written about your people, and the fairies, was written by Christian monks. I know firsthand that they often took liberties and inserted their own god into the stories.”

“It was not easy when the followers of Christ came west to the sea. Much of our history was lost, even to us. The battles that raged both here and in the human realm took their tolls.”

“So who are the
aos sí
?”

“They are from the human world—spirits of the trees and earth. Some have forms like humans, some have the forms of animals. When the first Tuatha de met them, they saw the magic in the
aos sí
and taught them to speak and use their skills. They became a part of us, and we of them. You asked before if we were seen as gods and we were, to both humans and fairy.”