Heir of the Dog Black Dog (12 page)

“I might take you up on that.” I was grimy, and I wanted to make a good impression.

That desire to impress had been what tipped the scales in his favor.

The consuls would look at me and measure me against my father. I wouldn’t stack up. I knew it. Right now I looked human, and fae didn’t esteem mortals. I needed their respect if I wanted them to bargain with me fairly. I had one way to get it, assuming all royal fae weren’t immune to my talent the way Raven was, but going that route meant someone had to die needlessly in order for me to make my point.

If clothes made the fae, then it was time I dressed the part.

Chapter Nineteen

Constant tickling on my throat finally made me snap. My fashion statement might have suffered, but I yanked four tail feathers from the mini epaulets attached to the leather straps on my breastplate.

Raven cut his eyes in my direction.

I pretended not to notice.

We had left his home what felt like hours ago. Though my outfit was thin, the heat-spelled lining kept me toasty. The worst damage I took trudging through the powdery snow on Raven’s heels was cracked lips and a wind-burned face. My cheeks must have glowed red and raw as much as they stung. His remained pale and smooth as always.

The farther we trekked, the more relaxed he appeared and the tenser I became. We traveled deep into the heart of his house’s holdings. The tingling in my scalp told me this was not a place I should ever have seen.

Faerie was divided into seasons that mirrored the mortal realm, except all four seasons coexisted here. This world wasn’t spherical like Earth. Faerie was more of a geographic map, and it was possible to fall off the edges. Though it was more likely you would be eaten before that happened.

Winter, with its darkly creeping longer nights, belonged to Unseelie House. Summer, with its brightly languorous days, belonged to Seelie House. Autumn and Spring were neutral ground, but Mable told me once that Autumn was in Winter’s pocket and Spring had ties to Summer. Considering their seasonal segregations, it seemed odd the Halls of Winter would handle negotiations, unless that was an admission of guilt in itself. Still, shouldn’t we head toward Autumn? It favored Unseelie, which ought to put Raven at ease, without alienating the Seelie.

The way I saw it, I was a neutral party. Autumn was neutral ground. Neutrality was what I needed in order to avoid being seen as having a preference for either side.

Arriving dressed to match with a dark fae prince to the Halls of Winter made a statement.

Freaking fae men and their games. Mom had been right to warn me about them.

“Look there.” Raven’s voice carried over the wind. “The Halls of Winter.”

I followed his line of sight to a fortress made of ice blocks, each rectangular brick taller than I was. Turrets rose in three of the four corners. In the farthest corner, an enormous platform hung suspended over a quarter of the exposed interior courtyard.

Snow hung dense in the air. Fat clouds covered the upper portions of the structure, obscuring it from view. What puzzled me most were the guards walking along the walls. Each held a black cable that stretched into the clouds. For all I knew, another tier of rooms were concealed high over their heads and those thick ropes hung from a... No. That couldn’t be right.

The men walked. The ropes moved with them. Not stationary so... “What am I looking at?”

Raven’s chuckle heated my ear. “You will see.”

Though I should have known better, the glint of mischief in his eyes heightened my anticipation.

What was I about to see? How was he so certain it would blow my mind?

Better yet, why did he care what I thought?

We crested a small hill and were met by an honest-to-God ogre. He was taller than most trees, and the ground rumbled under our feet as the creature’s lips moved. Boulders collided in his voice. His grumbled words sounded foreign to my ears, and they were beyond my comprehension.

Raven answered him in that grating language then lifted his hand, and a pulse of black magic whirled across his palm.

With a tight nod of acknowledgement, the ogre fell to its knees before him, knocking me onto my ass in the snow.

Raven hooked his arm under mine. “He won’t harm you on purpose, but stay on your guard. Accidents with ogres can prove fatal.”

My shoulders stiffened. Was he implying accidentally on purpose?

Maybe the ogre didn’t like playing gatekeeper. Or maybe he just didn’t like half-bloods like me.

I leaned against Raven. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He glanced down at me. “Hold on.”

“Why should I...?”

The ogre speared his fingers into the ground before us, shoveling the frozen chunk of dirt where we stood into his palm and lifting us to his shoulder height before his eye caught mine and he grinned.

My knees turned to rubber. Let him laugh. It would serve him right if I puked on his knuckles.

A strong arm circled my waist—Raven’s—and held me tight against his side. “You’ll be fine.”

“As long as I don’t look down?” I covered my mouth before I emptied my stomach.

“We’re almost there.” His thumb tapped my hip absently. “It will be worthwhile. I promise.”

I elbowed his hand. “You’re half bird, of course you aren’t scared.”

His lips were back at my ear, his breath hot on my throat. “I won’t let you fall.”

Terrified of testing his promise, I didn’t punch him again. Oh, but I wanted to.

I crushed my eyes closed and focused on breathing while the ogre hummed a tune and the world trembled in our passage. I had almost succeeded in convincing myself I wasn’t going to be eaten or flung to my death when the ride stopped and the hand beneath us began moving, threatening to topple me.

Raven squeezed my shoulder. “Look now.”

The cables were a few hundred yards away, and we stood higher than the guards’ heads. I let my gaze travel the length of one strand from a youthful fae’s hand up into the clouds and...my knees gave.

I knelt on a clod of dirt clutched in an ogre’s hand, and I stared up at the impossible.

My voice cracked. “Those are dragons.”

Raven stared up at them, wonder absent in his gaze. “They are.”

“Those don’t exist,” I explained to him very slowly. “Not even in Faerie.”

In search of richer nesting grounds, dragons had followed the first fae into the mortal realm where they were hunted to extinction by humans. All the history books said so. Yet there they were. Breathing. Flying.
Alive
.

The sleek lizards gliding over my head wore glistening metallic scales, and there were two beasts for each primary color. Their tails were streamers sailing in their wake. With serpentine necks, their heads were the size of entire horses with teeth the length of my arm. Wings extended from either side of their spines on nubby arms. Between finger-like striations, the skin looked as thin as silk.

Each wore a thick leather bridle clasped with a black cable.

“Mother has an affinity for winged creatures.” Raven swept out his arm. “This is her legacy.”

The edge of bitterness made me seek his face. “Not her son?”

“Heirs die.” His eyes hardened. “Bastards rise.” He glanced at me. “Legends are immortal.”

“How does no one know this?” A legend was only as effective as its reach.

“The Unseelie know, when it is important they should remember.” He made it sound like that was enough. “There is an enchantment on the beasts. Anyone may see them while on these grounds. Unless the visitor has been given the gift of recall, they forget the dragons after they leave, thus protecting their existence.”

I soaked in their ethereal beauty. “I will forget them.”

“For now.” His gaze went distant. “There is always later to consider.”

As the ogre’s hand swung past the landing pad, Raven asked, “Would you like a closer look?”

“No.” I turned my back on them. “That’s not why I’m here. I can’t play tourist with you.”

“Another time perhaps.” He called out to the ogre, “To the front gate.”

Gravity ceased to exist. The ogre lowered his hand so fast my feet left the ground, hair flew over my head. With sweaty palms, I clutched Raven’s arm. Unflustered by the free fall, he was my anchor.

Before the ogre’s knuckles brushed the pavers leading to the main gate, he slowed our descent. My knees buckled, and I sat down hard. He twisted his wrist and dropped us—dirt clod and all—onto the path. Still on my knees, I leaned forward on my hands and kissed the icy ground. While my churning gut settled, I braced my spinning forehead against the cold stones under my palms.

Raven took my arm and forced me to my feet. “It’s dangerous to show weakness here.”

I broke his grip. “I’m about to show what I had for lunch.”

“That would be unwise.”

“As unwise as wandering around this place with you?”

His face cracked into a smile. “As guides go, you could do worse.”

That circlet must be on too tight. This wasn’t a sightseeing tour or a vacation. This was a rescue mission. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself to stop dwelling on the part where I hadn’t exactly came here willingly either. Raven was the means through which my goals would be achieved.

Once the ink dried on the deals we were about to make, he would be my ticket home.

“We should get inside.” I stepped toward the door. “I don’t want to keep them waiting.”

Raven’s strides matched mine as we met the guards and gained entry. We were led through long halls that called Raven’s home to mind. Ornate fireplaces acted as centerpieces in every room we passed, warming the air to a bearable degree. Their fires lacked the friendly warmth of Raven’s. The dripping mantles and puddled hearths convinced me the fires were coaxed from wood and elbow grease, not the product of elemental magic.

More’s the pity. It was handy having a fire come when you called it.

“Wait here.” He eased in front of me. “I don’t want there to be any surprises.”

I nodded and stepped to one side.

When the door opened before us, he ducked inside a dimly lit room that smelled of rich incense. Myrrh undertones made my nasal passages itch.

Grateful for a moment alone, I straightened my clothing and smoothed my windblown hair with trembling fingers. I shoved all thoughts of dragons and ogres and elementals into the back of my mind.

When Raven returned, I was ready. One look at his formidable expression made me hesitate.

What had he gotten me into?

Chapter Twenty

Potent magic slithered over me, making my skin crawl as I entered the gloomy chamber. The enormous room was empty. Nothing decorated the space except for the massive tapestries depicting winter scenes. Straight ahead of us, built into the ice-block wall, was a low balcony. Two identical mirrors, both longer than I was tall, were tacked onto the wall behind the railing, and two matching chairs sat before them.

A path lined with flickering candles led us through the shadowy expanse to a small circle scraped into the frozen floor. Raven stepped inside it without hesitation. I did not. Circles were common symbols used by witches and other magic practitioners as a safety net while casting complex or dangerous spells.

Fae blood ran with magic. They needed visual aids as much as I needed an instruction manual on breathing. I waited, expecting Raven to offer an explanation, but he stared straight ahead with cold determination.

I followed his gaze. Two grotesque fae had materialized on the balcony and now sat in the chairs. Their bodies were humanoid, but their heads were...wrong. One eye the size of a basketball rose from the fleshy stumps of their necks. One had a red iris, the other’s was blue.

“No harm will come to you here, child.”

The baritone voice beat at me from all sides.

I turned a slow circle. “Who are you, and what right do you have to make such promises?”

Around us thunderous laughter boomed. A burly man limned in green light strode toward us, appearing out of thin air. Bare-chested, he wore leather pants and matching mud-brown boots. A wild nest of hair was drawn into a frizzy knot at his nape. His beard hung in tangles down to his navel with leaves and twigs and burs as accents. He stood two heads taller than me and was three times as wide, his muscles thick and smeared with dried mud.

“I am the Master of the Wild Hunt.” A breeze whirled around him smelling of fresh soil and wet dog. “As your father cannot be here, I have come in his stead. I will grant you my protection while you are on these grounds. That is a sight more certain and true than any offer this one can make you.”

“He’s right.” Raven set his jaw. “His word is good. Have no fear of that.”

The apparition that was the Huntsman waited until I stepped beside Raven.

Magic sizzled and popped, sealing us inside a protective bubble anchored to the floor by the circle.

“Thierry Thackeray,” a voice drifted from the balcony. “We have been expecting you.”

I glanced first at the seated fae before my gaze slid past their shoulders to the wall behind them.

Reflections now filled each of the mirrors. Both were sidhe males, both dressed in somber robes. They were visible to us from the waist up, the rest of their bodies obscured by the odd fae sitting before them. The crests above their frames luminesced, revealing ornate designs. One matched Raven’s, a raptor with a serpent in its claws, except it faced right-side up. The other showed a stag with enormous antlers wearing a serene expression.

The image in the frame beneath the stag smiled benevolently at me. “I am Consul Liosliath of House Seelie.” 

Under the raptor crest, Liosliath’s counterpart scowled. “I am Consul Daibhidh of House Unseelie.”

“You have been informed of our dilemma,” Liosliath intoned. “We are most grateful for your consideration in coming here to attempt a mutually beneficial compromise.”

Compromise.
Blackmail
. Poh-tay-toh.
Pah-tah-toh
.

“What you do not know,” Daibhidh said with a hint of a grin, “is that King Moran is dead.”

I jerked my head toward Raven. The king was dead?
Crap
. Now all the threats and secrecy made sense. A crown was at stake. Wars had been fought for much less.
Double crap
. The conclave didn’t know. If they had, they would have locked the threshold down so tight not even a pixie fart could drift through the wards.