Left for Undead (2 page)

“Thank you,” Queen Cerridwen replied in a tight voice,
keeping her unblinking gaze on her ex-husband.

“Aye.” Sir Rodney waved his hand before her to motion
for her to be seated at his round table. A chair drew itself away from the
table, waiting for her to fill it, but she declined.

“There is no need for me to sit here and break bread
with you, Rodney, as I am clearly not trusted. Should you cough from swallowing
your food too quickly or somehow accidentally choke on a quail bone, your men
would have my head thrust in the guillotine. Therefore, as long as my guards
are fed, I am fine. But the information I have brought you is vital to our Fae
way of life.”

She kept her eyes on her ex-husband’s back as he
walked away from her with a cup of ale in one hand and the other clasped in a
fist at his spine. Despite the years and all the raging water under the bridge
between them, it was hard not to study his regal posture and broad shoulders or
the way his dark brown hair spilled over them. That sight was almost as
compelling as his deep blue eyes and his strong jawline.

“You make me sound like such a lout, Cerridwen.  
and yet trust is hard to come by between us, for good cause.” He turned away
from the window and stared at her.

“Yes, it is, Rodney,” she said in a gentle tone that
lacked its usual bitter edge. “I thought we would live a long and passionate
existence together—you ruling the summer and I ruling the winter—but after the
first century you grew bored of me and the nymphs and human conquests were too
much of a temptation. I do know about trust becoming a difficult commodity to
own.”

“Back to that again,” he said, taking a slow sip of
ale and sending his gaze toward the window once more.

“It never left that,” she said more coolly than
intended.

“It never does.   but there were other
things, too.”

“Yes. Like your weakness for the human condition and
my disdain of it.”

He looked at her hard, ale held mid-air. “Have you not
learned from what we have recently experienced that there are those of that
species that have honor?” He paced to the round table and set down his ale,
waving Rupert to set down the silver-domed tray of refreshments he’d brought in
for the queen. “They are weak; they own no magic but rush in anyway to do that
which is heroic. Some of my men would not be here were it not for the humans
that Sasha Trudeau led into battle with us against Elder Vlad and the horror he
conjured up from the demon depths.”

“Time improves vision and perspective,” Queen
Cerridwen said carefully, and then released a weary sigh.

“Not understanding that, taking such an intractable
line against the humans.   allowing your subjects to harm them with
foul tricks for sheer amusement is what drove me from your bedchamber,
Cerridwen—not my so-called wandering eye. I do not claim sainthood, but I was
indeed yours without rival for a very long time.   until my opinion
no longer mattered and I began to feel as though I, too, was one of your
subjects.”

Both monarchs looked away and crossed the room in
opposite directions, oblivious of the uncomfortable guards who stood stone
still during the emotional exchange.

“Milord,” Garth finally said, diplomatically trying to
restore order. “There is a matter of state business that Queen Cerridwen has
brought tonight.   and mayhap we should learn more about this
potential Vampire threat?”

Queen Cerridwen lifted her chin as she faced Sir
Rodney’s top advisor. “Word has traveled to my castle doors like wildfire that
someone has opened Vampire graves to daylight invasion and has made it appear
to be me, using permafrost as a signature. I was left a list of names of the
sun torched and given twenty-four hours to answer for my actions. The last
grave that was opened was that of Monroe Bonaventure, Elder Vlad’s sixth
viceroy.”

“Your calculated coldness is legendary, Queen,” Garth
said evenly, his sarcasm biting as he thrust his shoulders back. “Permafrost
befits your methods. We well remember the dead roses in the outer gardens, not
to mention the dead guards. If you have gotten yourself into a dilemma with
your previous cohorts in crime, you may well be in too deep for our assistance.
You were
in bed
with the Vampires at one point. We, the Seelie, also
have long memories and we fail to see what this has to do with us?”

She spun on Sir Rodney, tears of anger and frustration
glittering in her pretty eyes. “All of that nasty business of temporarily
siding with the Vampires was a matter of court record, and you learned that in
the swamps of this godforsaken land! I was duped by Elder Vlad, coerced into an
arrangement with him against you, thinking you had attacked one of my vassals
in retribution for what happened with a rogue member of my court. But once I
learned of his duplicity, I promised him that the Fae had
very long
memories and there would indeed be a cold day in Hell for him to pay for ever
making me raise arms against you. However, someone beat me to that promise and
has now forced my hand, and, therefore, I suspect, his.”

“Aye.   the Fae do have long memories,” Sir
Rodney said quietly.

“Can’t you forget the past and understand that we, the
Unseelie, are soon to be under attack in the northern country? How long before
the Vampires attack the Seelie as well?”

“I cannot forget the past, Cerridwen, any more than
you can.”

Her ex-husband’s voice was quiet and sad, like a low
rumble of rolling thunder that she felt in her belly. Just the sound of it and
the tone of it made her clasp her arms about herself.

“No, I guess we cannot ever forget the past, can we?”
she said, swallowing hard. “I should not have come here seeking an ally. My
apologies for imposing. Upon first light, my guards and I will be gone.”

“Leave us,” Sir Rodney said, turning away from
Cerridwen to stare at his guards.

“What?. ,” she murmured, horrified. “Now? At
night with Vampire patrols in the hundreds with a bounty on my head? Do you
hate me that much, Rodney, that you would—”

“Not you, Cerridwen..   Garth, Rupert, clear
the room so that I may speak to my queen privately. Thank you.”

“Milord?” Garth said, glancing at Rupert and the
others in sheer disbelief.

“What about my request was unclear?” Sir Rodney said,
growing agitated. His gaze remained steady on his men until Garth conceded.

“As you wish, milord,” Garth said in a tight tone of
voice, and then bowed and withdrew from the great room, taking the rest of the
men with him.

Stunned silent, she watched Rodney’s men leave, now
better understanding the part of the past that Rodney was referring to and
clearly couldn’t forget. For a moment, she hadn’t been sure he’d remembered
what they’d once shared; it had been so long ago and his initial reception of
her was so distant. He’d seemed so angry when she first arrived, his voice and
remarks still lingering with old hurts from wounds that had cut bone deep. It
was the same part of their past that she could never fully divest herself of,
either; the hurt and the passion was all intertwined, and something that
neither his old advisors nor hers would ever fully comprehend.

“Have you eaten?” Sir Rodney asked quietly as the
large double doors closed, then went to the table to pour her a goblet of wine.

“Not since yesterday,” Queen Cerridwen said in a soft
tone as he brought her the chalice. She accepted it from him, allowing her
fingers to gently graze his. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.   but that is not good. We
must rectify your nutrition before you waste away. My kitchen staff is at your
disposal, if what Rupert has brought isn’t satisfactory.”

Only a few inches from him, she looked up and took a
slow sip of wine. “You’re right. It isn’t good and I’m sure that what has been
brought will suffice. But this inexplicable thing between us has always been
the best sustenance for me, Rodney..   It’s the one thing that could
always revive me.   and it was always good.”

He nodded and touched her cheek gently with the back
of his knuckles. “We may war, but I would never allow Vampires to brutalize you
or your Sidhe, Cerridwen. Never.”

She closed her eyes and turned into the warmth of his
caress. “I swear to you this is no game or ploy. I have not done that which
they hold me liable for. I would not involve you in my mischief, were it thus.”

“I believe that,” he said quietly, allowing his hands
to slowly cover her soft, creamy shoulders. “Maybe because I want to believe it
as much as I need to believe it.”

She closed the gap between them, letting the chalice
dissolve away with a sparkle of magick. “Can we forget the past and start anew
just for tonight.   on this beautiful autumn eve—this halfway mark
between the end of summer and the beginning of the winter? Shall we meet in the
middle and join as one?”

Tracing the edge of her delicate jaw with trembling
fingers, he lowered his mouth to hers. “What past, Cerridwen?” he murmured,
gently tasting her lips. “When we’ve just truly met for the very first time
tonight.”

New Hampshire’s woodlands were in full fall color,
their breathtaking splendor made even more glorious by the light of the
brilliant moon. Hunter turned quickly and protectively pressed his naked body
against Sasha’s as a sparkling multihued Fae missive parted the fall foliage,
whizzing through the branches like a heat-seeking missile. It terminated with a
loud thunk into a birch tree, narrowly missing them, its silver tip deeply
embedded in the ghostly wood under the full moon.

Slowly peeling his skin away from Sasha’s, Hunter
reached out and yanked the arrow out of the tree trunk with annoyance.

“Two inches closer and we would have spent the night
trying to recover, instead of enjoying the moon or each other,” he said with a
growl.

“Something’s gotta be wrong, baby,” she murmured,
touching his clasped fist as she gazed up into his amber wolf eyes. “Usually
their missives just find us and hover. This one was sent with a lot of extra
topspin on it.”

“It had better be a matter of life and death.”

Hunter’s voice filled the glen in a low rumble as he
flung the arrow away from them, clearly still peeved that Sir Rodney had sent a
missive that interrupted a full-moon wolf run. But she tried not to smile as
she gently caressed the five o’clock shadow that graced Hunter’s jaw, tracing
the lush contours of his lips while waiting for the kaleidoscope-like missive
to open and unfurl the message it contained.

Leaning into his warmth, she could understand his
frustration. His massive six-foot-five frame was still burning up from a near
shape-shift, and the chase erection he owned was still angrily bobbing up and
down with every deep inhalation and exhalation he took. Waiting to be with him
required every ounce of discipline she had. Her body was also on fire from the
promise of the pleasure his would surely bring as he possessively held her and
nuzzled the crown of her head against his cheek.

Her breasts ached with anticipation as she remained
pressed against him. Damn, Sir Rodney has lousy timing. Her hand traveled down
Hunter’s stone-cut chest to trail over his amber and silver clan medallion,
loving the feel of his dark skin beneath her fingertips. She wore the mate to
it, and she could feel his body heat almost soaking into the metal and
exquisitely etched talisman. For a moment she was driven to near distraction,
almost forgetting that there was even a Fae missive hovering mid-air in front
of them until it suddenly opened. She’d have to gently remind Sir Rodney one
day not to send urgent requests during the full moon; it was just not good form
when dealing with Shadow Wolves, or even Werewolves for that matter.

Quickly sensing Hunter and Sasha for authentication,
the missive released silver glowing letters into the air before them—a standard
protective measure to keep its contents safe from demon or Vampire
interception.

There may be foul play at the Sidhe—stop. Queen
Cerridwen of Hecate has arrived with news of Vampire graves being daylight
invaded—stop. The queen claims no Unseelie involvement, despite her permafrost
signature being found at the destruction sites—stop. The last invasion murdered
Monroe Bonaventure, Sixth Viceroy of Vlad. Sir Rodney could be compromised by
his own emotions and must not know that I have asked you to return to New
Orleans to both investigate and support him, should he be lured to ally with
the Unseelie—stop. I may have said too much—stop. But this is a matter of
Seelie Fae national security—stop. She is with him tonight—stop. Do you
understand—stop. In the morning, when cooler heads prevail, he will need to
speak to those he respects who can reason with him—stop. This is not our
war—stop.