The Dark Throne (29 page)

“I do.” The warriors answered in a low rumble.

“Do you swear your fealty to each other, and all others of the
vyldgard
, now and future?”

“I do.”

I thought suddenly of Catholic ceremonies, the Mass at Easter and Christmas; I took a deep breath, caught off balance by the unexpected memory of my former life.

It is not so different
, the Sword whispered.

“And do you swear to uphold your honor, and the honor of the
vyldgard
, and the honor of your Queen, by all your actions, being true and virtuous in word and deed?”

“I do,” they replied.

Gray stepped forward now, bowl out-held, and Vell dipped her hand in the blood. She approached the first warrior, her power tightening the air, and the warrior turned his face up to her, closing his eyes at the last moment as she swept the dragon blood onto his skin. A sudden jolt vibrated through the air, as though a great string had been plucked, and the warrior on his knees arched up suddenly, gasping. Vell murmured several words in the Northern tongue and then stepped back from the warrior with a nod. She moved down the line, dipping her hand into the blood and painting the face of each warrior; and each time, there was a sudden tightening and release of the humming power in the air. The breaking of their former bonds, I thought, and the forging of new ones.

When the
vyldretning
marked the face of the last warrior, she stepped back, held up her bloody hand and said, “The First Score of the
vyldgard
!”

The First Score stood as one, bowed to Vell—some more deeply than others—and then they clapped each other on the back and gripped each other’s forearms, most still looking a bit disbelieving that they’d actually been chosen.

A celebratory shout rose from the other warriors. I blinked in amazement—how were they not discouraged, dismayed that they had not been marked as one of the First Score? Was it truly enough for them that they remained here, near the High Queen, at the edge of this glorious new Court? If it had been Unseelie warriors, I would have been able to understand—an image of Mab flashed through my mind, and I shivered as I remembered the cold icy power digging through my head. But these warriors had been bound to Titania, not Mab. I wondered if the Seelie Queen was truly as good and pure as she seemed. My war-markings prickled as the Sword vibrated in amusement, catching my thoughts.

Then Vell added to the wild revelry of the moment, saying with a wicked glint in her eye, “Virtuous in word and deed…never fear, beloveds, in the
vyldgard
you may pursue all the pleasures of life, so do not think that means anything else.”

The warriors greeted Vell’s pronouncement with a raucous cheer; I chuckled in surprise as Finnead and Gray both grinned, looking distinctly wolf-like, beautiful and dangerous as they stood behind the
vyldretning.
Finnead hefted the scorched and scored spear that Luca had launched into the maw of the dragon; and Vell held up a hand. Again I wondered when they’d retrieved this relic of the battle. The yells and cheers slowly quieted.

“I have watched you all fight valiantly, and strike a blow against the Shadow on this day,” said Vell, serious once more. “And these First Score are merely the first among you to be marked by my hand and my power, but they will not be the last!”

A roar of approval met her words. It was like a dance, this call and response between the
vyldretning
and her warriors.

“But though I have marked my First Score, there are two who distinguished themselves beyond even these warriors.” Vell smiled. “I will give them new names, and they shall hold places of honor in my Court.”

Beryk loped into the crowd toward us, and my heart leapt. The sable wolf stopped before Merrick, summons in his intelligent golden eyes. Merrick drew back his shoulders, unable to hide the burst of sudden joy spreading over his face. I felt an answering smile curving my lips. Merrick strode toward Vell, and Beryk disappeared to the other side of the crowd. The warriors parted, and Calliea emerged, looking stunned as she followed Beryk toward the High Queen.

Calliea and Merrick knelt before Vell, and Finnead intoned their oath to the
vyldgard
, the words exactly the same as moments before with the First Score. I smiled like an idiot, proud of my young navigator and the Seelie healer who had become my friend.

“Merrick, of the Unseelie Court,” Vell said, dipping her hand into the dragon’s blood, “I name you Merrick Arrisyn of the Wild Court. You will be called Eaglesight, for you led my scouts in tracking this great beast.”

Merrick bowed his head briefly after Vell marked him, and she put her other hand briefly on his shoulder.

“You will be chief among my scouts and messengers, and you will be my navigator when the task demands.”

“As you command it,” Merrick answered. Vell nodded and smiled down at him. Then she stepped over to Calliea.

“And you,” the
vyldretning
said, her golden crown shining on her brow. “Calliea Queenscousin of the Seelie Court. You struck the deathblow to the dragon, and you will be named Laedrek, Dragon’s Bane.” Vell drew the dragon’s blood across Calliea’s face. Calliea trembled as Vell’s power compressed and then released. “You shall be first among my winged warriors, and I will call upon you to lead them in the coming battles.”

“As you command it.” Calliea echoed Merrick’s words, but her voice was barely more than a whisper.

I looked at Gray, suddenly certain that I would find jealousy on her face, but Gray wore a faint proud smile as she looked down at her cousin. Gray was one of the High Queen’s Three, and she was beyond jealousy, even in the loss of the command of the Valkyrie. Only in death would she truly be superseded, and she would be beyond this world if that ever happened.

Merrick and Calliea stood, and to the delight of the other warriors, Vell embraced them both. Then she drew back, and called out, “Enough formality! Now to feasting, and celebrating the beast’s death!”

The gathering erupted into fierce exultation; I slid through the crowd toward the hill and glimpsed Gray embracing Calliea. Finnead clapped Merrick on the back, and the newly named Arrisyn looked more stunned at this than his baptism into the Wild Court. I made my way up the hill, my legs protesting at the incline.

“Dragon’s Bane and Eagle Sight,” I greeted Calliea and Merrick with a smile. “I wish I’d earned a new name.”

“You could have your pick of any number of names,” Vell answered breezily, her regal composure traded for her more typical sarcasm, golden eyes dancing in amusement. I wondered if the Crown spoke to Vell like the Sword spoke to me, helping her dance between her visages.

“And I’m sure they’d all be very flattering,” I replied, raising one eyebrow.

“Of course,” Vell grinned. She glanced at Calliea and Merrick. “Are you two going to stand there staring for a few more hours, or would you like to join in the celebration?”

“Come, cousin,” Gray told Calliea, “let us drink to your new name!”

Calliea accepted her cousin’s offered arm with a slightly wary expression, but as they walked, the newly named Laedrek relaxed and even smiled a little.

“Have you ever even gotten drunk?” Vell asked Merrick with narrowed eyes.

Merrick colored. “I’ve drunk enough in my time.”

Vell snorted. “In your time. That’s what, a century?”

I chuckled. “Don’t embarrass him too much, Vell, he’s already had a tough afternoon.”

“I’m the High Queen, I may embarrass whomever I please,” Vell answered glibly.

“I didn’t know you brought liquor on the journey,” I said, trying to change the subject; but Vell continued to study Merrick, crossing her arms.

“Of course we brought liquor,” replied Vell. “Victory requires celebration, and a celebration requires libations.”

Arcana appeared at the edge of my vision as she slid away into the shadows. For an instant, she held my gaze with her dead eyes; and then she slipped into the darkness.

“You know what Arcana did to Finnead?” I asked Vell quietly, staring after the Morrigan.

“Yes,” she answered, not taking her eyes from her navigator. “There was no lasting harm.”

“Discussing me while I’m not present to defend myself?” Finnead’s voice came from behind me. I groaned inwardly. “I do believe that’s called
gossiping
, my good Lady Bearer.”

I turned and smiled. “I was just making sure that Vell knew the particulars of the afternoon’s events.”

“Ah, you mean this?” Finnead held up his left arm, the imprint of a splint clear under his shirtsleeve.

“Yes, I mean that,” I said, my jubilation at the naming of the Wild Court fading slightly.

Vell suddenly lunged and captured Merrick’s arm with a predatory grin. “Come now, my navigator! Time to celebrate your naming.”

“Celebrate my naming,” Merrick repeated faintly as Vell dragged him bodily away.

“Yes,” Vell said as they strode down the hill. “In other words,” she said gleefully, “I’m going to get you
drunk!”

“Gods have mercy on poor Merrick,” Finnead said with a small smile, watching the High Queen disappear into the crowds of camp.

Finnead and I stood on the hill, above the wild revelry beginning to take hold of the camp. I gazed out into the darkness and then back at the celebration.

“There is a watch posted,” Finnead said. He smiled. “Even if the Dark One sends attacks tonight, we will not be caught unawares.”

“Good,” I said. “Let me see your arm.”

To my surprise, Finnead offered his arm for my inspection. I pushed up his shirtsleeve, examining the splint. Beneath the binding, his bruised skin was mottled blue and green.

“It’s a well-made splint,” I conceded.

“It should be. Vell did it herself,” Finnead replied.

The sounds of merriment seemed very far away as I rearranged his sleeve, pulling it back down over the splint. “No carrying a shield for a while, then.”

“Probably a week or so.”

“Those are broken bones,” I stated flatly. “There’s no way they’re healing in a week.”

Finnead caught one of my hands and traced the silvery lattice of scars across my palm and up my wrist with his good hand. I shivered at his touch. “You should not have healed as fast as you did, either. But that’s the way of the world when you are gifted with power.”

“You should really have a sling,” I said, my voice softening.

“Your concern is touching,” he murmured, smiling to reassure me of the sincerity of his words. “Truly, Tess. It is…different, having someone who cares when you are hurt.”

“I care about you all the time, not just when you’re hurt.” I looked at him earnestly, captivated by the deep blue sheen of the firelight on his raven-wing hair.

He smiled. “You are thinking of what I said, near the dragon.” He stepped closer. “But I know there are much better ways to get your attention than nearly getting killed, Tess.”

I found an answering smile curving my lips…and I decided not to fight it anymore. Why did I struggle so hard against my attraction—no, my
love
, I corrected myself—for Finnead? The depth of emotion certainly scared me, because it carried with it the possibility of loss. The terrible fear that had consumed me when the dragon fell echoed in my chest. But what was life without love?

I took the second step forward, closing the distance between us. Finnead took me in his arms. The emotions of the day roared back, flooding me with sorrow and relief.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured with a frown.

“Loving you is terrifying,” I said, tilting my face up so I could look into his eyes. “I thought for few moments that I’d lost you.”

He pressed his lips together. “To be honest, I wasn’t so sure for a few moments myself.”

“Thank you, though….for saving Luca.”

“We are brothers,” Finnead answered. “When you fight alongside someone long enough, you’re bound to save each other’s lives every so often.”

I smiled a little. “You’re both good men.”

“We’re both rogues,” Finnead corrected me with an answering smile.

My smile widened. “Well…I suppose I’m very attracted to rogues, then.”

The sounds of revelry drifted up into the night sky around us as I took Finnead’s face in my hands and raised myself onto my toes to kiss him deeply, grateful beyond words that he was not lying on the still-burning pyre below us.

Chapter 16

I
t seemed as though time stood still as I thrilled at the feel of Finnead’s lips upon mine. I slid one hand through his hair, the sting of my healing palms muted beneath the swift current of passion racing through me. Finnead cupped the back of my neck with his good hand, his fingers tracing patterns of fire on my skin. And then, with a long sigh, he gently drew away, smiling at my wordless murmur of protest. He rested his forehead against mine, his eyes dark as the night sky above us, his war paint still untouched. I took a shaky breath.

“It would be easy to lose ourselves in one another,” he said softly, “and believe me, in this moment I would like nothing more.”

I smiled a little, knowing what he would say. “You know, rogues typically aren’t so responsible and duty-bound.” I took another breath and looked into his eyes. “And if all you ever do is kiss me, I might go a bit crazy.”

Finnead chuckled and pulled me a bit closer to his lithe body, letting me feel the extent of his desire. “
You
might go a bit crazy?” he said a bit hoarsely, eyes glimmering in amusement. “Try coming off a few centuries of celibacy.”

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice with such clear evidence of his passion pressing against me; the fire low in my belly flared and I moved my hips, just a little. Finnead closed his eyes and tilted back his head. “I find it hard to believe that there weren’t any beautiful young things at Darkhill who caught your eye.”

Finnead looked down at me. “You think that I’d be able to use someone in such a way?” he said huskily.

“There are worse things,” I replied softly, “than taking pleasure in the beauty of life.”