Chapter Eighteen #2
“Nor am I,” Everil replied. “If oaths were easy to keep, we wouldn’t have to make them. Besides, last week you wanted to murder the mail carrier.”
“You’re sure that it’s the brownie?” Antonio asked, looking at Aultyr. Who clearly hadn’t lost his appetite. “It’d suck to go after the wrong guy.”
Declan blinked, surprised into silence. It wouldn’t, was the thing. Declan had sought an excuse to kill Nimai for over a century. He’d not mourn the man.
“It’s him.” Bo shifted toward Everil, the kelpie’s arm curling over his shoulders without hesitation.
“He’s a psychotic fucking asshole who sees a problem and tries to kill it.
He teaches through pain and doesn’t include kidnapping and psychological torture in his definition of ‘harm.’ Probably thinks that offing Declan would do you both a favor. ”
Everil drew Bo in closer, murmuring something too low for Declan to hear. The human shook his head a little, swallowing hard, and leaned further into Everil’s embrace. Antonio watched them, his expression unreadable.
“Gossip’s not worth a finder’s fee,” Aultyr said after a beat, mild, as if he hadn’t stared hard at each of them as they spoke. Those eyes were on Antonio, then. “People like him, they’re why the Monarchs kept their doors open.”
“Hear he’s been trying to pass something to compel all parents of would-be changelings to deliver their babies to the Council, instead of the mortal realm.” Harke smiled coldly. “To make sure they go to ‘appropriate’ human families. No exchange needed.”
“It wouldn’t suck,” no one said. They didn’t need to use those words.
“Got it,” Antonio said. Declan couldn’t decipher the tangle of him through the bond. Only blood, dried and flaking in the sun. “Don’t think I’m much use for this sorta shit.”
“Antonio?” Declan wasn’t even sure what he was asking.
“I’m fine,” Antonio replied, with a human’s facility at lying. He pushed his chair back and reached for his plate, still heaped high. “Someone should start cleaning up. Good for that, at least.”
No one spoke, as he fled to the kitchen. And Declan, coward that he was, watched him in helpless silence.
“Fucking fae,” Antonio hadn’t replied. He didn’t need to, not with the door shutting quietly behind him. Declan, now one of those fucking fae, killing to not be killed. As if Nimai’s treatment of him in their home hadn’t been reason enough.
Defend himself in the moment, and Antonio’s gaze would stay on him, unwavering. Take measures to keep them alive, sully his claws, and be greeted with silence. Distance. Would he prefer Declan continue to face knives in the dark?
“I’ll go help.” Bo stood, leaning in to kiss the kelpie. He took a moment to poke Talia’s head gently. “Don’t spy, kid. I’m trusting you.”
Aultyr had the good sense to wait until the door shut behind Bo before he spoke.
“Thought he’d lived with fae before.”
“Not like this.” Declan studied Everil, refusing to hesitate. “Do you wish to protest as well? I’d hear it, if so.”
“I would protest that it falls to you, but I can take no direct action.” Everil glanced over his shoulder to the closed door, then back again. “I wish I could be glad of it, that this might end.”
Declan shook his head. “You loved him. I understand.”
He couldn’t conceive how, but nevertheless. And perhaps Everil’s only protest being a lack of partaking soothed his own tension enough to be able to say so. Even the talk of not being entirely glad of it didn’t carry the same hurtful reproach as Antonio’s departure.
“I won’t require action on your part. Perhaps insight on whether an idea I have might work.
” What he truly needed from Everil couldn’t be asked for.
Not with Talia, Aultyr, and Harke there, listening as they ate.
No way to gain reassurance that they’d remain friends after Declan did what he must do. “It’s a stupid idea.”
“I’ve never been particularly adept at predicting Nimai’s behavior,” Everil admitted. “But I’ll offer what I’m able.”
Good. That was good. No matter how much or little he might assist, his willingness to do so bode well for Everil not shunning him after.
“My thoughts are to tell him the truth: I see an offense given and wish to make it right.” Declan couldn’t keep the hiss from his words. There was offense given. “Then take refuge in audacity and issue a formal challenge to a duel. How clever is he with magic?”
“Clever,” Everil answered immediately. “Subtle. I would say of no particular strength, but I made a poor bond in that way. If his new bond shares better than I do, he may well be quite capable.”
“We have duels?” Talia interjected, eyes bright and expression offended. “We have duels, and I’ve never been to one?”
“Had duels,” Aultyr corrected, a hint of curiosity in his voice. “Been a thousand years. Maybe more.”
“Declan, it’s a very rash idea. And he’ll not wish to accept such a challenge, not from you.”
Declan snorted. “Voids, dirty his hands with me? The shame.”
“He fears you.” Only Everil’s flat, factual tone kept Declan from laughing. “Not your deathsight. Not your politics. You’re clever and powerful, even if you can’t draw from your bond the way he might his. Nimai did not allow our friendship merely to placate me.”
Old questions fit together then, puzzle pieces slotted into place. Declan always took Nimai’s reaction to his attempts as the standard disgust and disregard toward sluagh. Not fear for what he might do to the wretched man.
“There goes my idea to play into his dislike of me to goad his acceptance.”
Humor sat easier than dwelling on the past.
“Not from you, no. You cannot play on his honor or sense of justice, either. He must see it as a threat to his status.”
“Rashly public, then.” Preferably not surrounded only by his friends. Nimai had many. Declan had his few, but they only occasionally intersected. “Did you know Charil and Yenah still throw their biannual parties?”
“My House’s invitations must have been mislaid prior to delivery. Nimai always did enjoy attending.” Everil hesitated. “I imagine more so, with the Council. It’s important to be seen.”
Antonio wouldn’t like it. Not with Calloway’s family pledged to the House. He wouldn’t wish to go, if the sour, miserable twist in the bond gave hint to his emotions on the subject. Throw a probable encounter with the wisp to the mix, and Declan would face Nimai alone.
If he died, he would be alone.
“I’d rather not be seen,” Talia piped in. “It’d be a lot easier to kill him if you were invisible.”
“Nah. Have to be naked,” Aultyr said with a not-quite smirk. “Or a ghillie dhu.”
Everil tapped the table thoughtfully, first studying Aultyr, then Declan. “There is something to be said for hiring out such an effort. Must it be you who undertakes this?”
“Don’t do public executions.” No more humor there in that level, steely chill. “Challenge, put me up there, just makes you look weak. Can kill him, sure. Prove you’ve pull. Not that you’ve a Council seat.”
“And it’d take us a month,” Harke interjected, his scowl far more pronounced than Aultyr’s. “At least. No ins to that House.”
Aultyr smiled. It sent a chill down Declan’s spine. “Not likely to get any, either. Got into it with a couple of ‘em a while back. Took offense to Kylan having a go at a changeling.”
Ah. Judah, the new changeling in Faerie. That made sense, if not an odd picture. Per Aisling, the ghillie dhu was a small, quiet creature that appeared spun from glass. Declan doubted his siren bond would take someone weak and retiring as her other half, but he’d been wrong before.
“I’ve been attacked twice in a week,” he said, rather than let himself spiral into speculation. “Even if I were willing to wait a month, it would add another eight to that count.”
“More, keep wandering into unclaimed lands. The way I told you not to.”
Everil didn’t glance at Aultyr, or ask Declan why in all the worlds he’d not taken that advice to begin with. He watched Declan, assessing and worried and not a single scrap of condemnation.
“Talia,” he said after a long moment, words careful. “I would request you accompany Declan and Antonio, when they undertake this. A Gate’s witness will lend the proceedings gravitas.”
“Do I get a new hat?”
“Yes. Bo will take you to that abysmal hellscape for a hat.”
“The mall,” Talia stage whispered to Aultyr and Harke. “He means the mall.”
Good. Declan needn’t seek an ally in a sea of faces and hope they could keep Antonio from harm. If Antonio agreed to go.
More likely, he would be at his garage. His solace. Away from the fucking fae.
“I would be grateful for your company, Talia. We have … I believe a week, by this world’s calendar. At least the assassination attempts came at a convenient time.”
“Planning to wear the hat?” Aultyr asked, still to Talia. “Gate’d be the strongest in the room. Can wear what you want.”
It was settled, then. Talia and Bo would terrorize the mall. Antonio would probably withdraw to his shop and family until then, so he’d not need to look at Declan. Perhaps he would come with them to the party.
Everything sorted.
“My thanks,” Declan said to Everil and meant it.