One Thousand Kisses (4 page)

Ophelia interrupted her again. “We don’t need luck. We have power. The bond will take. You gave your consent months ago when you accepted Warran’s proposition card.”

“I agreed to further our acquaintance, not have sex.”

“Same difference.”

“It’s against Realm law to disregard free will.” Ani backed toward the door. “Your brother needs a healer. I think it’s best if I go.”

Ophelia gestured sharply. A wall of air formed between Ani and the exit. As the wall thickened and encircled her, her hair and skirts fluttered. Tali had great skill in Loki’s domain, but she’d never been able to weave air into a trap.

How did Warran and Ophelia think they could get away with this? They couldn’t prevent her from reporting them unless they killed her, and surely they wouldn’t do that. But if she were alive, they couldn’t make her forget what they’d done.

Unless they could.

When Ani had been whisked away five years ago to help locate Tali and Embor, missing in humanspace, the retrieval unit had employed spirit magic, prohibited as long as any fairy could remember, to erase human memories and conceal the fairies’ presence in humanspace as per the Policy of Discretion.

Elder Skythia had given the order.

What other dark magic did the Court employ? What else could be altered in her thoughts or her soul?

She didn’t want to know.

Ophelia’s web of air whipped around Ani like a cocoon. Would the Torval spider drain her of resistance?

Help me, help me, help me.
Ani opened her mind completely, hoping against hope Tali was close enough to hear the call through their bond. But chances were, Tali and Jake had returned to humanspace already.

Ani forced herself to speak, raising her voice over the rush of air. “Please lower the wall.”

Ophelia’s posture was confident, her expression full of arrogance. Had she mastered spirit magic? Did she have globes like the ones Skythia had used in humanspace? “Shut up and take the test.”

What could Ani do? She could heal, create light, globe, grow plants, divine for water and ores, influence the weather, perform cleansings, purify poisons, breathe underwater…but she couldn’t fight air.

The funnel of wind buffeted her. “I’ll report this. I swear it.” Casting spells to harm another fairy in anything but self-defense was punishable by sevendusting. Complete loss of magic.

Ophelia smiled, her lips thin and cruel. “You can try.”

An older man Ani recognized as Warran’s personal assistant hastened to Warran’s side carrying spell globes on a tray. Without acknowledging Ani, he began to heal Warran’s blistering wounds.

“Ophelia, this has gone far enough.” Warran winced as the other man cracked a spell globe over his palm like an egg. The tang of healing magic scattered through the room. “Anisette needs to think things over, and we have other matters to see to.”

Think things over? Hardly. She didn’t want to set eyes on either of the Torvals ever again. The only question was, who could she trust with her report? The Torvals were thick with the Elder Court, possibly thicker than…

Embor. She’d tell Embor.

“I’m sure she’ll keep this misstep between the three of us,” Warran added. “Anisette, my apologies for my sib. She so wants to be an auntie.”

Ani was going straight to Embor, no matter where he was or what he was doing. She’d tell him about the assassination threats, the air prison, everything she’d gleaned about their political strategies, the fact they’d tried to force her to mate with Warran—all of it.

Ophelia’s face reddened. Bits of dirt and food began to fly around the room, followed by a tureen. “The assessments are close and the other avenue isn’t working like we hoped. She’s essential. We never should have trusted that hairy little bastard.”

“So we have him move to phase two. This would have upset the watchdogs anyway.”

“I don’t care about the watchdogs and their gutless restrictions. You know this will work.” Paler than usual, Ophelia snatched Ani through the wall. Thin, clawlike fingers dug into Ani’s cold flesh. “We need bondmates if we’re to—”

“I said, let her go!” Warran roared.

The temperature in the room dropped forty degrees as his magic surged. With retorts like human gunfire, the wineglasses on the table burst into shards.

The funnel around Ani died. Frigid air sliced through her garments, and she broke into uncontrollable shakes. Her mind blanked. All she could feel was ice, inside and out.

Frost crackled through her skull before dissipating so fast she wondered if she’d imagined it. That must be what it felt like to be dropped into the snowbanks surrounding the castle of the Seers.

Ophelia’s body trembled as she too reacted to her brother’s chill. Her grip on Ani’s arm pinched. “If you don’t come to your senses, girl, your career is over. They won’t let you heal farm animals when I’m done with you. I’ll ruin you, you insipid bitch.”

“As you so kindly pointed out, Talista already destroyed my future.” Her limbs blessedly functional, Ani shook free of Ophelia and ran for the door.

“One more thing,” Ophelia said right before Ani twisted the handle. Her eyes were a cold, black fire, boring into Ani’s so deeply she feared she’d never erase the image. “Nothing happened to you tonight. That doesn’t mean nothing will happen in the future. If you file a complaint about us, you’ll be sorry.”

Ani was already sorry. She fled the Torvals’ villa as if the stinking winds of Fet were at her heels.

Chapter Three

The laundry fairy accepted Embor’s bundle of soiled fabric with a scowl. “This reeks. What have you been doing, Primary?”

Embor raised an eyebrow but explained since it might help her cleanse the fabric. “I encountered the Serendipity triplets.”

“In a pigsty?” The tiny blonde cast a stasis spell on the bundle to prevent cross contamination.

“In the garden.” All Court members had PAs to lighten the workload, but since the Incident, it was frowned on to distance oneself from basic survival skills. For Embor that meant handling personal business like laundry himself. Sometimes.

“Well, don’t do it again.” She tossed his clothing down a chute.

“It’s not on my schedule.” His upcoming meeting with Jake would hopefully be free of children. And Talista. He stifled an abrupt yawn and frowned.

Happily, the laundress missed his display of weakness. She scribbled his name in a paper book, a method of recordkeeping in vogue since the Incident as well. Much had changed in the past forty years.

“Do you know how hard it is to get whites white?” she complained. “Who decided white exercise clothes were a good idea anyway?”

The question seemed rhetorical so he didn’t respond.

“Your sib’s outfits are bad enough,” she continued. “If she’d dress like a decent fairy, I wouldn’t spend more time on her clothing than anyone else’s at Court. Don’t think I didn’t notice that yellow leather outfit. Leather! Might as well have been wearing a meat sack. What is wrong with her?”

Another rhetorical question, he hoped. He abhorred Skythia’s garish clothing as well but didn’t want to go on record as having stated it.

The woman regarded him with a craftiness that didn’t match her apple cheeks and corkscrew curls. “I might not be able to get these done in time for your next workout.”

Embor drew himself up to his full height. “I have several sets.”

“The others aren’t ready either. You’ve been exercising so much lately. One might think you were working off steam.”

That was no secret. Court became contentious as Primary assessments approached. At least he’d quit attempting to convince the Elders to fund a full-scale humanspace search mission and had redirected his energies. They were foolish to ignore the danger posed by the renegade agents and their insider knowledge about the AOC. Embor was many things, but he wasn’t a fool.

But he did need to enhance his stamina with moderate exercise. If he encountered Anisette in the gardens at the same time, well, he was fond of multitasking.

“A logical conclusion,” he conceded. “I am the Primary. There is stress involved.” He seemed to be informing people of this a lot lately.

“You’re not coming here to visit with me, that’s for certain. I’m surprised you haven’t paid for pick-up and delivery.”

“An unnecessary expense for something my assistant or I can handle.” Interacting with citizens like the laundress allowed him the opportunity to gauge his constituency. He spoke to at least one voter on a weekly basis.

“Skythia doesn’t worry about thrift. So what’ll it be, Elder?”

Always there were hidden fees. “I can offer—”

“Ten transportation globes, Realm-wide. And information.”

“Information?” Globes he’d expected. But information?

“That’s my new rate for next-day delivery.” Banging and clattering echoed up the chute. She opened the wooden door and stuck her head in the hole. “What in the gnome-stick are you doing down there?”

“Tripped!” a voice echoed up the shaft.

“We’re training another sorter,” she told Embor. “Laundry’s big business with the influx of human clothes, and hardly anyone can do it. But now let’s talk about you.”

“Your sibs don’t ask ten globes for a job they’re already well-paid to do.” Many Court services were privatized, the suppliers allotted a base amount from the treasury.

“My sibs couldn’t magic a water stain out of a dishrag.” She slammed her book closed and placed another on top of it. “Do you want clean clothes or not?”

He crossed his arms. “What’s your clan name?”

“Serendipity.” She smiled. “We’re small, but we’re loud.”

He could see the resemblance to Talista, if not Anisette. “Seeking information about Court activities could be considered treasonous.”

She laughed. “That’s not the kind of information I want.”

Was it so important to chat with a constituent this week? He didn’t have time for this. There was an Elder Court session in three days, and he had to prepare new arguments, consult with his cabinet, attend some negotiations with Greenland, sit advisory in the Younger Court on judicial matters, consider an appointment with his physician about his sleep issues, meet with Jake Story about their clandestine project, coordinate with the Commission for Truth about the AOC, insinuate himself into Princess Anisette’s good graces and banish Warran of Clan Torval. For something.

“I fail to see why you can’t be satisfied with your salary. My salary is enough for me.” Serving at Court was a public office and paid accordingly. He bartered transportation globes he created himself for any extras he required.

“I like gossip, and I have expensive tastes,” she said. “What can I say?”

“I have no gossip.” Gossip required one engage in casual conversation, another thing he had no time for.

She flipped through the black book he recognized as a copy of
The Thousand Kisses
. “Here we go. Who are you seeing?”

“Seeing?”

“Kissing. Bedding. Testing. I want your ritual numbers.”

“That’s privileged information.” More like nonexistent. He hadn’t used
The Thousand Kisses
even before he’d known his bondmate’s identity.

“I wash your drawers, Elder. I’m as privileged as they come.”

He was beginning to see the appeal of the human device known as a washing machine. Too bad the Realm had no electricity. “Fifteen globes and no information.”

“Eight globes, three ritual numbers.”

“How much do you extort from others?” If laundry had become this dear, it would be next to impossible for a Court trainee like Anisette to cover the costs. The Serendipities weren’t wealthy.

Except for the laundress, who appeared to be amassing a tidy fortune.

“It depends on how much I want to know about your love life.” The laundress eyed him like she was picturing him without clothing, but it didn’t feel sexual. “You’re a tough case. Nobody knows much about you. My guess is your rituals are one hundreds. I can tell a lot about a person by the clothes he wears and how he dirties them.”

“Can you indeed?” Even he knew one hundreds were considered conventional, for beginners and old married couples. What was so bad about conventional? He enjoyed what humans called the missionary position. Functional
and
convenient.

“If you’re not, I stand to lose a considerable number of chits in the betting league,” she confessed. “You’re not on a seven-hundred streak?”

He wasn’t sure what a seven-hundred streak entailed, but since it involved sex, he wasn’t doing it. “I’m not currently in a relationship.”

She plonked her elbows on the table. “You poor man. I almost believe you.”

He inclined his head. “Then it’s settled. Eight transportation globes and my laundry returned tomorrow, to include delivery.” Haggling over laundry payments wasn’t a wise use of his time. He’d find another voter to talk to.

“If you’re not seeing anyone,” she said, fiddling with her quill, “do you want to be?”

He froze in the act of removing the spell globes from his pocket. Despite his status, he wasn’t frequently importuned. “You’re attractive, madam, but I’m not at liberty to—”

She covered her mouth with a hand to conceal a guffaw. Not very well. “You and me, burning up the sheets? No.”

“My mistake.” He added another globe to his fee.

“What I mean is, who do you want? I can tell you who they’ve accepted cards from, who wants to offer them cards, and what rituals they favor. I can even tell you who wants your card.”

“How industrious.” Curiosity about Anisette piqued and receded. The shield he’d placed around her chambers strengthened her security and tracked her visitors. He knew everything else he needed from the Seers and didn’t want a recital of her failed bond tests.

Some day soon, she’d find what she was seeking.

Him.

“What’s your poison, Primary? Better yet, what’s your fantasy?”

If he shared his intentions toward Anisette, this woman would sell it all over Court. “I appreciate the—”

Something pinged the edge of his senses. Something urgent. Something…

Skythia?
He opened his mind. She was having dinner two floors above and in no danger. Was he hallucinating from exhaustion?

Help me, help me, help me.

“Anisette,” he whispered. Was this residue from his nightmares? How could he sense her?

More importantly, how could he help her?

“Princess Anisette?” The laundress scribbled in her black book. “Wow. You and Torval, head-to-head, love and politics. He’s an eight-hundred man, Primary. Gotta watch those guys.”

“She’s in danger. I must go.”

“How do you know she’s in danger?” asked the laundress, but her question fell on empty air. Embor had transported himself out of the room.

“I can think of a way.” She rubbed her hands together. “I am going to be so rich.”

By the time she reached the trainee’s wing, Ani was crying so hard she could barely see the narrow stone corridor. She fumbled up the stairs, tripping on her gown, hoping her sobs didn’t attract attention. Everyone should be at the evening meal.

Now if she could find her door and undo the magical lock. She wiped her eyes, but tears continued to fall. Her head throbbed. She knew she was having a bad reaction after being so terrified, but she couldn’t think of a remedy.

Why had Warran and Ophelia been convinced the bond would take? What if they changed their minds about letting her go? As soon as she considered filing a complaint, the memories slipped out of her grasp like small fish.

Fear. Hatred. Ice.

The lights in the stairwell flickered right before the ice blinded her. Her ears filled with magical pressure. When they popped, she sensed a presence.

Two hands grasped her shoulders from behind. “Princess.”

Ani screamed and struck out with agony in her fingertips. Her power flashed, and she was rewarded with a hiss. The taste of pain.

Strained speech, a male voice. He tried to turn her, his grip firm. “You’re safe now. I—”

She silenced him with a flick of her wrist and groped for magic. Fairy lights sizzled out like torches in water. Inky darkness replaced the white.

The panic she’d been trying to stifle broke free.

“Get away from me!” She flung herself at her attacker. Her hands curled into claws, ready to rend. She barreled into his body. Warran?

In the dark she grabbed his throat and squeezed. He smacked into the wall behind him. Magic sang in her hands. She’d never felt this rage before. Never hurt anyone.

He began burn up and down her frontside, right through her clothes.

“Anisette,” he groaned. “Stop.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She could kill him. As she could save life, she could end it. She dove into his magical core, searching, searching…

Flames surrounded her, licked her like hot tongues. Inside this man was a heat that boiled without burning. She fell into it, yellow and red and orange, beautiful and wild.

Warran had no fire inside him. His soul was pure ice.

With a gasp, Ani jerked herself out of the man’s consciousness. She released his throat and stared into the blackness. “Who are you? What do you want?”

He coughed. Big hands grabbed her wrists. Before she could react, he maneuvered her against the wall, pinning her. “Calm down.”

His voice was raspy with pain. She’d done that to him.

“I’m calm,” she lied. She was decidedly not calm. She was pressed to a stone wall in the depths of the Court complex by an unknown assailant. Her hands stung, her body ached and two Elders had just done…something terrible. What had she been so afraid of?

Hatred. Ice.

“What did you do to the lights?” More coughing interrupted his words. When he was finished, she responded.

“I took their magic.” For large or spontaneous spells, sometimes the magic that infused the Realm was inadequate. An extensive spell could create a brownout that lasted seconds to hours.

She wasn’t surprised hurting took more magic than healing. She was just surprised she’d overcome decades of training and the healer’s code to do it.

“I’ve been looking all over for you.” The man’s hands gentled on her shoulders. He smelled like smoke and spice. “You were in danger. What happened?”

“I feel like I’m in danger now.” She reached for the light network, brushing it with power. “You need to…”

The lights flickered on, dim and golden, and the face of Elder Embor hovered above hers. His cheekbone was scuffed, his neck laced with developing bruises.