The Curse (10 page)

“No,” she said louder. “I’m not throwing any suspicion on Quinn based on something that Medb witch said.”

“This guy says Quinn did tell Kizira how to find you.”

“How could
he
know?” Evalle fisted her fingers, unwilling to believe Quinn had betrayed her but needing the truth.

“He says Quinn is tied to the traitor.”

“What?”

“End of discussion. Put the bag on your head and don’t try to contact anyone telepathically. I’ll be able to hear it.”

Evalle lifted the sack and took a deep breath she let out slowly. Her pulse hit panic pace, but she couldn’t back out this close to finding answers on the traitor.

And on Quinn.

SEVEN

T
zader hated being out of his body.

Felt creepy every time.

Purplish haze blurred his vision when he traveled in hologram. This beat not seeing Brina at all. His physical body couldn’t pass through the warding at Treoir Castle. No immortal, except Brina or Macha, could enter without dying.

Brina’s father had installed that little safety feature to protect his only daughter when he and his sons went to battle the Medb four years ago. None of the male Treoirs had returned alive and that had left Brina the lone survivor, stuck in Treoir Castle.

I shouldn’t be immortal
. Tzader loved his father, but the man had done his part to doom him and Brina, too. On the way to battle alongside the Treoir men, Tzader’s father had asked Macha that if he died in battle, to make his only child immortal.

Then
his
dad had died that night, fighting beside Brina’s.

Tzader’s life would be a tragic comedy if he could find any humor in this screwed-up situation.

The distorted sensation of winding through a vortex of blurred colors calmed until he floated in a cloudlike haze. Entrance to the castle required Brina to offer invitation each time Tzader visited in holographic form.

He called to her telepathically.
Brina, I’m here
.

At one time, he’d have gotten an immediate answer. A breathless answer filled with anticipation.

Nothing. He shouldn’t be surprised since he hadn’t heard from her in weeks and their last meeting had ended poorly, but as the minutes stretched on, the delay bordered on insult.

You are welcome to enter, Tzader Burke.

He considered several smart replies and decided raising her hackles would not set the right tone for this meeting.

When the cloud dissipated, he stood in hologram form inside the great hall of Treoir Castle.

And there was Brina. She lounged on a sofa her da had carved from the trunk of a tree. It was intricately detailed with Celtic family emblems. Hair the color of a river on fire lay across her shoulders in a loose, tousled way that took him back to when he could touch her and run his hands through the fine strands.

The triangular Celtic Triquetra, mark of the Beladors, had been stitched in white on the cuffs of her radiant deep-green gown. This woman had taken his breath away when she’d worn baggy pants and a faded shirt for training as a warrior.

He’d waited four long years to touch her again and would wait an eternity if Macha had not forced a promise from him to allow Brina to move on with her life and marry.

According to Macha, Brina claimed she was ready to produce an heir.

Without Tzader.

He’d never suffered a wound so painful as how those words had gutted him.

Macha made it sound like a case of logic. The Beladors needed a Treoir heir to safeguard their future. Brina couldn’t leave, and Tzader couldn’t enter.

Tzader had been raised to understand that sacrifice was part of being a warrior, but he’d never expected to give up something so precious.

“You’ve a report?” Brina asked with a brisk efficiency that exaggerated her Irish lilt.

“Hello to you, too,” he snapped back at her, leaving off
Your Highness
at the end. Why did she sound as though he were interrupting her day? She’d called this meeting after all.

“Very well. Hello, Tzader. I’m wantin’ news on the traitor. Have you run down the rat yet?”

She’d had the same uncharacteristic waspish tone last time, part of the reason Tzader had given in to Macha’s wishes. In that last meeting, Brina had been clear about both of them accepting their impossible situation.

Ready to move on. That’s how she’d put it.

He admitted, “Nothing on the traitor yet.”

“I expected to be hearin’ we were closer to findin’ O’Meary.” She sat more upright, her fingers flitting around until they settled together in her lap.

Nervous? Was she as unhappy about ending their relationship as he was? Maybe reconsidering …

Her gaze had been as active as her hands until she glanced up and caught him studying her. That put a steel rod in her backbone and grit in her voice. “I still cannot believe he escaped from VIPER lockdown. ’Tis unheard of. Someone must have helped him.”

“I agree.”
And I accept the blame since the responsibility is all mine and I just hope
— Tzader paused mentally when a guard entered the room from the front hall.

Like all Treoir guards, this one wore an emerald-green and black vest with black pants and a Belador sword in a scabbard that hung against his back.

As Tzader started to admonish the guard for interrupting a meeting, Brina turned her head and …
smiled
? “I’ll be with you in a minute, Allyn. This won’t be takin’ long.”

The guard—
Allyn?
—nodded and retreated to the main hall.

She resumed her imperial pose where she perched on the sofa, and her personality flatlined again. “As you were sayin’, Tzader?”

“We’ve had an unusual number of gang battles.”

“Oh, please. If I were wantin’ a crime report, I’d be askin’ Macha for satellite television.”

Don’t snap at her.
“This isn’t about local human issues. We’ve found trolls involved in several of the attacks.”

“I do read your briefings, so how is this news?”

“The trolls alone aren’t news. But things changed tonight. We had a Rías shift and a Svart troll involved.” He watched her face for any sign of concern, because Brina knew how dangerous the Svarts were.

She stilled, masking her thoughts until she finally asked softly, “Was anyone injured?”

In the past she would have wanted to know that
he
was okay first. Tzader shrugged. “The usual, but no casualties on our side. Evalle fought the Rías and the Svart.”

Unease slipped through Brina’s lack of expression before she contained it again. Lifting her chin and looking off at nothing in particular, she waved a casual hand. “Evalle would be best equipped for facin’ somethin’ so dangerous.”

Where had the Brina he’d known gone?

That
Brina would want to face him at eye level, not sit there lounging like the princess she’d never wanted to be.

His Brina would have been pacing the floor, rattling off questions to be assured that her warriors were all safe. Even Evalle. Brina would be demanding to know who did what and strategizing their next move.

Tzader added, “I had to authorize Quinn to use extreme force on the Rías or it would have killed Evalle.”

“Understood. An’ what of the Svart? Was Quinn able to retrieve information to shed light on these battles?”

“He didn’t get a chance before the Svart died.”

Brina nodded, speaking as much to herself as anyone else when she said, “Aye, a Svart will always take his own life before allowin’ himself to be captured or interrogated.”

“Evalle actually ended up killing him.”

“
Before
Quinn could search his mind?” Brina sat up, fingers tense, gripping the cushions on each side of her. “What was she thinkin’?”

“She was trying to survive,” Tzader said in a voice one bump louder than Brina’s. “The Svart had a chain wrapped around her neck.”

“What about her powers?”

“She was fighting the Rías, too. She did the best she could.”

“Knowin’ Evalle, she didn’t
wait
for anyone to help an’ just kicked the Svart’s butt herself. You defend her no matter what she does.”

“No, I don’t.”

Brina lifted both hands in a moment of frustration, then slapped them down on the cushion again. “Is that all?”

No, he wanted to yell that this was
not all
. That he missed her and expected her to miss him, but he’d made a deal with Macha that he would not encourage the relationship he and Brina had shared since their teens.

His honor forced him to hold up his end of the agreement. “I guess that is all … to do with my report.”

“What else can I be doin’ for you?” she asked in such a brisk tone that it grated his already shredded patience.

“Nothing. Your
Highness
. Not. A. Thing.” Tzader ordered his essence to travel back to his body, which sat in a secure room at headquarters, halfway across the world.

—

“Come back in, Allyn,” Brina called out, standing up.

“Yes, Your Highness.” The man she’d chosen to be her new personal guard strode back into the room with solid confidence that matched his physical appearance. Her royal guards were all well trained and strong, and his uniform was no different from that of the others, except in the way it fit Allyn’s spectacular body.

Aye, she’d chosen a fine-lookin’ man for her purpose.

His gaze tracked over to the empty spot where Tzader’s hologram had been. When Allyn drew close, he whispered, “How did it go?”

“About as I was expectin’.” She kept her voice down and her senses alert for Macha, who tended to pop in unannounced.

Allyn asked, “Then you’re pleased?”

Brina crossed her arms. “For now.”

She’d tested the waters with this visit. The next time, she’d put the first step of her plan into action.

Tzader had best prepare himself for the battle of his life, because she had no intention of givin’ up on the two of them.

EIGHT

I
should have left a clue at the Iron Casket so the Beladors would have some way to find my body
.

But what clue? Evalle kept trying to think what she might have done that Tristan wouldn’t have noticed. She couldn’t have even gone to the ladies’ room in the Iron Casket before they left because Tristan would have followed her in to make sure she didn’t leave a message somewhere for Tzader.

The car she rode in took another turn in the rutted road.

She swayed toward the console on her left, the motion giving her a moment of nausea because of the sack over her head. They bounced along until Tristan finally parked the car and turned off the engine.

“Can I take the spy bag off my head now?” she groused.

“Sure.”

The driver’s door had slammed shut by the time she’d shed the black bag and could see her surroundings. Tall grass and weeds crowded a white farmhouse with faded red shingles. The dirt road to this place must have been a half-mile long, ending at this spot hidden by woods on all sides. Tristan had brought her somewhere in rural Georgia or maybe even Alabama, because they’d driven over an hour from Atlanta.

But with all the turns Tristan had taken, she had no idea in what direction they’d ridden after leaving the Iron Casket.

She hadn’t anticipated so long a drive. Tristan had better make this a quick meeting. She could get away with running late for her meeting with Tzader and Quinn, but what she couldn’t do was show up at her bike after sunrise since she had none of her protective riding gear with her. Thanks to her strange Alterant DNA, she had a deadly reaction to the sun to go along with sensitive eyes. Tristan knew about that.

So what, exactly, had her neck muscles so tense right now?

The location?

Abandoned farmhouses weren’t something to be concerned over, as a rule, unless you considered the wackos that broke into them sometimes to hide from the law. But those were generally human perpetrators. What was giving her a hinky feeling about this? Climbing out of the car, she stretched her legs and sniffed a toasty scent in the air. Woodstoves wouldn’t be unusual out here.