Motor City Fae (29 page)

Ric hovered in the corner of the council gallery, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. His audience with the queen earlier had been anything but productive. It had been nothing more than a power play on Llyris’s part.

She’d summoned him to play for a group of her ladies, leaving him no time at all to try and convince her to release him from her service.

The session was due to start in less than half an hour and already the council members were beginning to file in, most accompanied by guards. He watched for Meagan, failing to notice when Aidan slipped up beside him, toting a cat carrier.

“Here.” Aidan thumped the plastic crate against Ric’s chest. “You hold on to that hell-beast my cousin calls a cat!”

“I see you got the portal fixed.” Ric peered into the carrier and sent a tendril of reassuring energy toward the glowering form of Calculus.

Aidan nodded. “Desmond Sutton gave me a hand. Even though I swear he’d have rather stuck a knife in my ribs. One of these days I’m going to have to figure out why he’s so pissed off at me. I know I went out with his sister years ago, but she’s the one who ended things with me. This seems a bit over the top.”

Aidan had dated Elise? Ric wondered if Meagan knew about that, but he figured she probably didn’t. Still, her cousin’s history was of fairly minor significance compared to everything else going on today, so he filed it away to mention to Meagan later.

A few other spectators were trickling into the gallery—reporters, political hangers-on and the spouses of one or two council members. Ric smiled and nodded as Belinda of Willow took her seat in the front row, directly across from her husband’s position on the dais. Aidan cocked one eyebrow as Blaine the Black walked up and assumed Deirdre’s seat on the platform. According to Seelie law, a life-bonded mate had the authority to act for his or her spouse, even to the extent of sitting in council.

But that had only ever happened in truly unusual circumstances. Judging by the lines of exhaustion bracketing the wizard’s idiotic grin, he’d be passing out cigars at the end of the session.

“Twins,” Ric whispered to Aidan. “Damn lucky bastard.”

Aidan nodded. “Where the hell is Meagan? Aren’t you supposed to be guarding her?”

Ric growled low in his throat. “Her Majesty had other ideas. By the time she cut me loose, there was no point going to look for her. I left a pair of hand-picked guards with her, though, along with her own people. But she should be here by now.”

Most of the seats on the dais were filled, while other members of the council and their attendants were still filing through the doors. One of the other lords called Aidan over and after sharing a worried look with Ric, he moved up to his seat, still anxiously scanning the crowd.

After a loud hiss, Ric realized he was still holding Calc, so he looked around for a good spot to stash him.

Meagan would be thrilled to have her pet back, but not until after the meeting. Ric found a promising corner, set the carrier on the floor and leaned back against the wall to observe.

Prominent among the audience members was Meagan’s heir apparent, Diarmud. The man was a shifty, greedy bastard, who’d been a council wanna-be his whole life, first as Emery’s second, then as heir to the missing child. He had a complacent smirk on his lips that Ric didn’t like at all. Ric crossed his arms over his chest and continued to watch.

Amidst a crowd of supporters, Owain entered and took his seat. Weapons were strictly forbidden in the council chambers, so none of the thugs who stood with him were armed, but Ric had no doubt that all of them had swords, if not guns ready and waiting to be blinked to hand. Well, for that matter, so did he—and probably every other member of the council as well as most of the audience.

Owain didn’t look worried about the outcome of the vote. In fact, the shit-eating grin on his face looked downright—smug. A prickle of unease ran along Ric’s spine and he narrowed his gaze. He took in each of Owain’s supporters, some eager, some probably coerced and decided most of them had no idea of how this whole mess was going to turn out. Owain himself and Diarmud, however, were different. Ric would swear they knew something.

A herald thumped his staff and the double doors at the back of the dais were opened. Everyone in the room stood, eyes focused on the doors.

“Her Majesty, Queen Llyris Astrella, Sovereign of the Fae and High Councilor of the Seelie Court.” The herald thumped his staff again as Llyris stepped into the room. Oh, shite, the queen had arrived and Meagan hadn’t. Something was definitely wrong.

When he saw Diarmud look down the front of his tunic, as though checking to see if a mark had appeared, Ric's blood ran cold.

“Isn’t it time to begin, Your Majesty?” Owain turned to the queen with a bored expression. “It has never been the policy of this council to delay for latecomers.”

“Until and unless I am removed as head of this council, my pleasure remains the policy.” Llyris retained her typical expression of ennui, but Ric knew her too well not to see the tension radiating through her slender form.

She glanced out into the gallery at Ric. “Well, bard, have you lost your charge already?”

Ric struggled for composure. “Unfortunately, Your Majesty, someone decided this morning that my time would be better spent entertaining the ladies of the court, rather than guarding our newest council member. If you recall.”

What might have almost been a passing moment of regret flashed through the icy blue eyes.

“Perhaps a page could be sent to the lady’s apartment, simply to be certain she recalled the time correctly?”

Aidan’s interjection was calm, rational, but Ric saw the worry in his friend’s green eyes.

The queen nodded at a servant, who scurried off, presumably to run and fetch Meagan. Ric watched Owain and Diarmud, certain that they knew more than they were letting on. If either of them had hurt Meagan, today would be their last.

Several long tense minutes later, the servant returned.

He scuttled directly to Madog, Llyris’s chief bodyguard and whispered something.

The half-ogre let out a growl and motioned the man over to the queen. The page repeated his message to the queen and darted back out the door.

“According to Lady Rose’s household staff, she opted to visit the library on her way to the meeting. Finn has gone to retrieve her.”

The library? Ric weighed the matter and decided it was well within the realm of possibility. Meagan liked knowing things.

“Your Majesty, I really must protest. According to the rules of this council, the vote must be called. Only urgent council affairs should be conducted at this juncture and only one such urgent matter lies before the council. The reason is unimportant. The fact is that the Lady Rose is not present and therefore is unable to vote.”

Llyris pursed her lips and Madog glowered, but the damnable truth of it was that Owain knew the law. Right when Llyris looked like she was going to give the goahead, the door to the chamber burst open and the page Finn returned, half-carrying a battered and limping Sean.

“The Lady Rose has been taken,” Finn yelled to the assembled nobles. “We were attacked in the library. Alasdair is dead, Sinead and Liam are unconscious and Will the librarian is missing.”

Ric vaulted the rail to Sean’s side in an instant, even beating Madog to the door.

“What about Lady Rose’s guard captain?”

Sean sneered. “In on it. He’s the one who opened the door. Probably also the one who let Owain know where she was.”

“Fuck!”

“Well, as it appears that Lady Rose’s arrival is not imminent; perhaps we can get on with the vote?” Madog clamped a beefy hand on Ric’s shoulder when Ric turned, ready to pounce after Owain’s smarmy remark.

The queen paled, but sighed. She spoke slowly and with more cold disapproval than Ric had ever heard in one voice, even hers. “Unless there is any other council business…”

“Wait!” Ric gathered his courage and prepared to lay it all on the line. With this next move, he could be settling his future, assuming that Meagan was found. If she wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter anyway.

“I will sit in place of Lady Rose.” This was it. He forced himself not to blink or flinch. “I claim right of lifebonding.”

Even the queen gasped. Aidan nodded and smiled grimly.

“You have completed the joining ceremony?” Llyris tilted her head imperiously. “Without my permission?”

“No, Your Majesty.” There was no way to fake that;

one of the wizards would be able to detect the mingled life essences if requested. “But we have agreed to do so. We planned to approach you privately after today’s meeting.” Which wasn't entirely untrue.

“Your Majesty, I must protest. There is no proof that the bard speaks the truth.” Even Owain looked like he might be growing a bit nervous. Good.

“Well, bard? Do you have any proof to support your claim?” Llyris turned back to Ric.

“I can attest to the bard’s statement.” Aidan’s voice rang out over the murmur of the crowd. “My cousin has indeed agreed to be his wife and life-bonded mate.”

Blaine nodded. “Both Lady Night Sky and myself were also aware of this development. Alaric speaks the truth.”

Ric saw Lady Willow nod, then her husband spoke. “And I do believe she asked my wife to help her organize the wedding,” Cynric of Willow added.

Llyris nodded. “Three members of the council have vouched for Alaric the Bard. By the laws of the council, the mate of a council member has the right to vote in his spouse’s name.”

She paused, every eye in the place but Ric’s on her face. Ric still watched the enemy, noting how Owain had paled. Diarmud looked ready to bolt, but a quick whisper to Madog had the guard standing between the weasel and any avenue of escape.

“I claim that he lies,” Owain shouted. “I demand that he be made to prove his status.”

“I willingly submit to that challenge, my lord. In fact, I insist. I claim the right of trial by combat.”

Llyris nodded. “So be it. A challenge of trial by combat between two council members is indeed council business. As head of this council it is my choice as to which order of business comes first. I deem that the challenge is a more immediate concern than the vote and therefore the challenge is to be carried out immediately. Lord Rose.” She gave Ric a nasty look as she accorded him the courtesy counterpart to Meagan’s title. “Do you have a second?”

“He does, Your Majesty.” Aidan rose to his feet.

“And Lord le Faire?”

Owain looked none too pleased about this turn of events, but apparently he couldn’t think of a way around the coming duel. One of his sycophants on the council spoke up, giving him a second.

Madog gestured and a pair of the queen’s guards cleared the area between the gallery and dais rails. Owain was escorted down, where he stood across from Ric, mouthing vile curses and empty threats. Ric merely nodded, while their seconds were sent to join them. Once all four men had both been searched by the guards for any hidden weapons, they faced each other and the queen stood at the rail overlooking the area, Madog by her side.

“My lords, produce your swords.”

Consciousness crawled slowly into Meagan’s skull. Had she been drinking? Her head sure felt like it, but she couldn’t remember partying…

Shit!
The events of the past few days flashed into her mind and she bolted into a sitting position, which made her head feel like it was being stabbed with an ice pick.

Her stomach lurched, so she closed her eyes and sucked in a breath, barely managing not to hurl.

When the world stopped spinning, she cautiously opened her eyes and looked around. She was in some kind of cell. Or cage. There were stone walls on three sides and metal bars on another. She was sitting on a narrow shelf built into the stone of the wall farthest from the bars, which seemed to be covered by a pad of some sort. A thin one, judging by the bruises she felt along her back.

Apparently someone had tossed her onto the ledge none too gently.

Well, at least she wasn’t dead. Moving slowly, she stretched, testing muscles and joints. Nothing appeared to be broken or too badly damaged. That was good. The throbbing behind her eyeballs began to recede, but she still leaned both hands against the cool stone walls for support as she stood.

Once she got to her feet, she paused long enough to be sure she wasn’t going to fall and walked over to the bars.

Somewhere along the way she’d lost her bone-colored pumps, so her bare feet made almost no sound on the hard stone floor.

So this is what a dungeon looked like. Three walls of a larger room were lined with cells about the same as the one she was in. Hers was the first one in the U-shaped pattern and appeared to be the only one occupied, other than by spider webs and dust bunnies. On the fourth wall, a large wooden desk sat next to a heavy-looking door. The only light in the entire place came from a small light globe on the desk. Much to Meagan’s surprise, the desk chair was occupied.

She didn’t recognize her captor, but he was definitely an elf. The pointed ears gave that away. He obviously wasn’t too worried about her doing anything. His feet were up on the desk, his arms crossed over his chest and a small snore escaped his parted lips.

Unfortunately for Meagan, his own snoring seemed to startle the guard awake. He jolted upright, his eyes flying open. Odd, she noted. His eyes were almost as green as her own.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

She nodded grimly as he looked her up and down like a used car. “Where the hell am I?”

He snorted. “Like I’m going to answer that. I’m not stupid, cousin.”

“Cousin?”

He nodded, still running an assessing gaze over her face and figure. “Distant enough, though. My name is Neal and I’m Diarmud’s younger brother.”

“Cool. More annoying relatives.” Meagan forced herself to stay calm. “Why the hell have you got me locked up here?”

“Because from my point of view, you’re more useful alive than dead. Which is more than I can say for my dear brother. He wanted your throat cut. But I’m tired of taking orders from him, so I have a proposition for you instead.”