Chapter Twenty-One #2
Half a second, and then Talia was stepping forward, waving enthusiastically in the group’s direction.
“Hi, Lysander!” she called out, then added, in an ineffective whisper, “He’s the shy-looking Gate. Don’t punch him.”
A boy of about Talia’s age, with soft features, light brown skin, and worried eyes, waved back, though only barely. The rest of the group had also turned at Talia’s greeting. Antonio wanted to beg Declan to forget about this. About everything. The duel. The Council. Faerie.
But he’d made a promise. And Declan needed him. They were out of time.
“Hey, Murderpunk,” he said and dragged the man to him for a desperate, urgent kiss. “I fucking love you.”
“I love you as well,” Declan answered, hand cupping Antonio’s cheek. All of him close. All of him. “And I owe you centuries yet.”
Laughter sounded from the group. Kesks’s was easiest to pick out. There were hooks in it, that sidhe voice magic that always made Antonio queasy. Like everyone else, he looked in the man’s direction.
“It looks like the start of a joke, love,” said Veroni, smiling with lips the color of blood money. “A Gate, a sluagh, and a human walk into a party. What do you suppose the punchline is?”
Declan’s fingers brushed over Antonio’s arm as he stepped forward, head high, his own wide smile fixed in place.
“I do enjoy a good laugh,” he said. “One of the many things I’m known for. Wouldn’t you agree, Nimai, old friend?”
“You’ve certainly developed a reputation,” Nimai replied, his voice like a hearty slap on the back from someone you didn’t want to touch you.
“As a friend, I advise you not to flaunt your indiscretions in quite so public a venue. No one will blame a sluagh for making compromises. The curse you bear is no easy burden. But that doesn’t mean they’ll tolerate seeing it. ”
“A greater burden was learning that the man I’ve called friend for centuries put a call out for my head.” Declan sighed heavily, all fae now, playing disappointed. “An irrevocable allotment and a near anonymous open bounty, even.”
“I would be interested to hear how you’re so certain of these terms and who set them,” Kesk’s voice hit like the aftermath of a hangover. “It would be rude to levy accusations without revealing their source.”
“Bullshit,” Antonio snapped.
“Surely you know my family deals in information, Kesk,” Declan said, sounding as calm as Antonio hadn’t. “Mother was especially keen to barter once it became clear a school of nereids didn’t suddenly find me offensive to their existence by chance.”
“Are you so certain?” Asked storm-colored Veroni, words as rolling and catlike as Kesk’s were ringing and sharp. “Nereids aren’t known for enjoying poison.”
Declan stared at her for a long, silent moment, then turned back to Nimai like she hadn’t spoken. “Nothing to say, Nimai? No explanation for why you turned a wisp into a cat’s paw or used assassins instead of settling this yourself? You weren’t always so squeamish about blood.”
“You refer to the unfortunate incident with my former bond’s pet.
That was a human.” Nimai’s gaze cut to Antonio and away.
“Crushing an insect is no great concern. A fae, and a friend, is another matter. I’m sorry, Declan, but a lifetime of petty disrespect is not to be borne.
You should have expected it to come to this when you threw your lot in with the man who made it his life’s purpose to betray me. ”
“I’m not here to defend or deny Everil,” Declan said. “I played no part in his choices. He cut me off, just as he did you. You’ve wronged me, Nimai. Repeatedly. You spoke ill in my home. You cower behind Protocol. I seek recompense.”
“That’s not how this works,” Kylan interrupted, his voice as sweet as the sidhe’s was sickening.
“It is, though. By Summer and Winter, Voids and Stars,” Declan said, lifting his voice enough to carry further than their little group.
“By Faerie itself, it is. I challenge you to a duel, Nimai. Lifeblood for lifeblood, lest you be labeled a coward.” Declan’s lips twitched.
“By your own admission, your previous conquest was of no great concern. Easy as crushing an insect. Very impressive.”
Nimai tensed, though he tried to hide it. Declan watched him, waiting for a response with all the patience of death. The bond burned with old anger, a low, sickly burn, like those fires in mines that never went out.
No escape. Not now. Not ever. This was always going to end in blood.
“A duel? Really, Declan. This is a bit dramatic, even for you.” Condescension dripped from Nimai’s every word. “Your nature may incline you to make a spectacle of death, but some of us have a bit of decorum. This isn’t the place.”
“Indeed,” Kesk added, his voice hitting Antonio with a fresh wave of nausea. “Protocol isn’t a shield. It’s a necessity. Bloodsport is beneath us.”
“Then you really should stop spending so much time at the arena, big brother.” The new voice came from near the back of the growing crowd, and every head but Kesk’s turned toward the sound.
If Kesk’s voice felt like a threat, demanding attention like a drawn gun, this one was a bribe. Purred invitation and promise, making Antonio as dizzy as Kesk’s did sick.
The crowd parted for the speaker, who came with an entourage of his own. Antonio recognized Nae and Tsuri among them. If the new sidhe was Kesk’s brother, the resemblance didn’t show. His wings were as black as his hair and his skin was olive to Kesk’s ivory.
In the photos Antonio had seen, Hyacinth hadn’t had the wings, and his face had been less sculpted. But the eyes were the same blue-green, and that easy, amused smile was unmistakable. This was the man who’d grinned at the camera in front of a New York bar, his arm around Declan’s shoulders.
“That’s different. Those are…” Kesk was tense now, glaring at Hyacinth with as much hatred as Nimai showed Declan.
“The word you’re looking for is ‘unseelie.’ I know you can say it. I’ve heard you.” Hyacinth met Kesk stare for stare, but his expression was much harder to read.
“This doesn’t concern you, Hyacinth,” Nimai snapped, all the fake friendliness gone from his words.
“My concerns are what I say they are.” Hyacinth’s piercing gaze barely brushed over Nimai before shifting to Declan. “Making your own fun?”
“I would, but everyone’s afraid to play,” Declan answered. “A bit disappointing, considering the cowardice comes from a man who has a bond he may draw upon and an unfortunate habit of attempting to have me killed.”
“Sluagh use rot and acid,” Kylan said, gone full Karen, all offended sensibilities. “One could hardly consider that ‘fun’ or fit for anything but the arena, where we are certainly not.”
“No rot, then. No spitting acid. I won’t even use my teeth.”
Why the fuck was he throwing away the best weapons he had?
“Declan,” Antonio said, low and tight. Only that. He couldn’t argue. Not here.
Declan shot him the ghost of an apologetic smile. Antonio didn’t scream. Couldn’t do that either. Instead, he played his part. The one Declan hadn’t even asked him to play.
“And I’m a Hollow,” he said, fighting every instinct that screamed in him to run, to hide, to not draw their attention. “Can’t do shit to help. So it’s two on one.”
This time, Declan’s look held gratitude and worry, before he turned back to Nimai.
“Me alone, without the best defenses at my disposal. I’d say that’s more than fair. I wouldn’t face the weak without some concessions. Then it’d simply be bullying.”
That hit a mark, alright. Nimai looked like he’d swallowed something as sickening as Kesk’s voice.
“You always were the noble one, Declan.” Hyacinth put in, fixing Nimai with a bored look. “The way I see it, Nimai can either fight you, or everyone will know he couldn’t. I’ll make sure of that.”
“This is utterly degenerate,” the brownie snapped. “But very well. Declan, if you wish to end your life at my hands, so be it. Kesk, will you stand as witness?”
The angelic fae nodded, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “I suppose a little bloodsport won’t hurt anyone … important. I’ll see that everyone plays by the rules.”
“Wait,” Antonio interjected. “That’s not on. You’re on Nimai’s side.”
“You’ll be hard pressed to find a fae who isn’t,” Nimai replied. “Sadly, humans and–forgive me, Talia–Gates, cannot serve in this.”
“The Council found Kesk and I honorable enough to preside over a trial, Hollow,” Veroni said, all smiling malice. “Do you seek to insult the Council as well as a well-respected fae?”
“Now now,” the new voice came from one of the House heads, Charil or Yenah. Antonio couldn’t remember which was which. “Our honor isn’t so easily damaged. The house, however, has its limits. See that you don’t knock over any walls.”
Fucking fae. Kill each other if you like, let the biased asshole judge, just mind the furniture. The air buzzed with hostile anticipation. Hunger.
And still, there was Declan, real and warm in the face of all of it. Ferociously determined and unshakable, as he looked to the black-winged sidhe with a grin.
“Hyacinth, will you stand as my witness?”
“I don’t work for free,” Hyacinth replied, still in that playful purr that made Antonio’s head spin. “You and me and your bond. Drinks. That little pub in Belfast. Deal?”
This couldn’t be happening, especially not with Talia’s enthusiastic, “And me!”
“With respect, little goddess, Declan and I have some catching up to do. But my little brother,” he indicated Lysander with an upward tilt of his chin, “would be delighted to learn a few more of your games.”
“Drinks in the little pub in Belfast, you and me. I don't try to snake the bill from you,” Declan countered. “And I put my most persuasive foot forward to talk Antonio into joining us.”