Chapter Six #2
Well, at least I’d ensured Baareo’s family would know what he’d accomplished.
* * *
By the time Dearg conjured the dimensional gate back to the palace, I felt exhausted.
I’d always hated doing notifications, since I had to open myself up to the family’s emotions to sense whether they’d been involved.
Magic wasn’t admissible in court, but once I knew who did it, I could find a way to prove their guilt.
“None of his clan knew anything about his death,” I told Dearg after his gate left us in a sprawling garden. “They certainly hadn’t been involved. Their grief was genuine, and so was their horrified surprise when I told them about the killer.”
“I agree,” he said quietly. “I was scenting the whole time we were there, and I’d bet Breath none of them had any idea what had happened.
I’d expected at least someone to be furious or disdainful that he’d abandoned them to seek stardom on Mortal Earth, but they all smelled of grief.
Surprised me, because all the centaurs I’ve ever met pride themselves on being deadly warriors. ”
I nodded. “Exactly. Yet Baareo had no taste for war at all. Which shamed him, but killing sickened him even more.” I rubbed a hand over my dry, aching eyes.
Dealing with large crowds of potentially violent warriors was nerve wracking.
“That said, family is important to Centauri -- and that includes family members who choose a different road. From what I sensed, they were all secretly proud of him. One of them called him the Bard, like a title.”
“Yes, Bards are highly respected in Centauri culture because they immortalize clan heroes. Too bad we couldn’t show them his films.”
“Actually, I gave his mother gemstones spelled to project them, complete with translation spells. That includes Baareo’s promotional interviews -- he spoke of his clan whenever anyone gave him the chance.”
He nodded approval. “That was a thoughtful gift.”
“I liked Baareo, even though his diva streak could get on my nerves. He told me once he wished his parents could see his movies, but he was afraid of being rejected if he went back.”
“Well, they loved him enough to want his killer’s head on a pike.” Dearg rested his hand on Dragon’s Breath. “And one way or another, we’re going to get it for them.”
“Yeah. I’m not happy about playing judge, jury, and executioner, but…”
Dearg shook his head. “I’m not sure even a Sidhe prison would be able to contain someone with that much power, especially if Vildra is right and the assassin’s a god -- or even a demigod.
Given time, he’d eventually kill a guard, assume his identity, and escape, even with the best wards Dad could erect. ”
“No doubt.” As much as killing the bastard without a trial bothered me, we had no choice but to take him out. Assuming he didn’t get us first the way he’d damn near done last night.
My gaze slid back to Dearg’s handsome face.
He was frowning, his sensual mouth pulled in a thin line.
Golden sunlight poured across his face, emphasizing the strong line of his jaw, the precise angles and hollows genetics -- and apparently Cachamwri -- had sculpted.
Despite his court regalia and Sidhe immortality, he could be killed.
The idea sent an icy needle of pain shooting into my heart.
Afraid he could see it on my face, I turned away to pretend to admire the palace garden sprawling around us.
But as I studied the exquisite landscaping, I realized it was well worth admiring.
The air smelled of exotic Sidhe flowers, trees, and tumbling water.
As if sensing my attention, I felt something deep in the earth stir, reaching up to me.
Flooding me with power to recharge my weary body.
Claiming me as I claimed it. “This is… lovely.”
He smiled. “My grandmother’s garden. She’s dedicated her very long life to it. Whenever I feel I’ve hit the wall, I head here. I thought you might like to spend some time doing the same. Dealing with a grieving family is exhausting.”
I gave him a smile. “Yes, thank you. That was very thoughtful.”
A horrific vision flashed through my head -- the griffin ripping a screaming Sidhe apart. Only it wasn’t me this time. It was Dearg.
Gods and demons, if that happens… I don’t think I could survive.
Shit. Oh, shitty shit shit. I’m falling in love with him.
I tore my gaze from the warmth and compassion on his face. You idiot, you’re still the daughter of Siobhan the Mad. If the court won’t accept him for his Direkind blood, what would they think of mine?
Trying to get my face under control, I focused on the wide decorative fountain where an armored knight held his sword high. Or perhaps that was a god. Water shot from the tip and rained down on the figure, pattering down into the basin that surrounded it.
“My grandfather,” Dearg explained, stepping closer to rest a hand on my shoulder. “King Dearg, Conqueror of the Morven Sidhe, first King of the Two Kingdoms.”
“Wow. He looks like you.” The resemblance was striking -- the same broad, angular bone structure, a bit too rough for Sidhe beauty.
“That’s flattering, but unfortunately, the resemblance is only skin-deep.”
I spoke without thinking. “I wouldn’t say that. You certainly turned those ‘taurs against each other. From what Maeve told me about your grandfather, that was the kind of cunning gambit the old fox would have used.”
Dearg looked pleased. “Thank you. That’s high praise.
” He squeezed my shoulder, then made a surprised sound.
“That’s some knot between your shoulder blades.
” He moved behind me and began to knead the ache I’d been trying to ignore.
He dug his thumbs into the hardened knot, and I had to swallow a groan of pleasure.
Damned if I’d moan with Lt. Ruadháin and the rest of his team watching. The next thing I knew, they’d have the palace thinking I was sleeping with Dearg. Which, of course, I was, but I hated gossips with a passion.
I felt the knot suddenly release and murmured, “Maeve’s Forge, you’re good with your hands.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “I do try.” He released me and stepped back. “I need to brief my parents on what I observed among the Centauri. Would you like to come along?”
I paused, knowing I should say yes. But I needed a break from him, needed to deal with my rebellious emotions. And I needed the warm magic I could feel the garden offering me, almost as if it sensed how upset I was. “I’d like to stay here a bit longer.”
“I thought you’d feel that way. Just relax, and if you need anything, send one of the guards. Want anything to eat?”
“I’m good.” I closed my eyes and inhaled, breathing in the scents and sounds, feeling my weary tension beginning to drain.
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against my cheek, and I opened my eyes, surprised he’d do that in front of the guards. But then, he’d lived his life surrounded by bodyguards. Privacy wasn’t exactly a perk of royalty.
“If you change your mind, the palace staff will be happy to accommodate you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Thanks.”
I watched him walk away, admiring the shift of muscle in the royal backside. Mmm. Tonight we’ll make love again, I promised my libido as he disappeared into the palace.
A smart woman would keep her distance. Turned out, I was a lot less smart than I’d thought.
I moved over to the fountain and sat on one of the marble benches that surrounded it.
The water raining from the old king’s sword filled the air with soft, pattering music, and the sun felt deliciously warm on my back.
With a sigh, I closed my eyes and drank in the nature magic rolling up from my feet.
What in the name of Maeve’s Forge was I going to do about Dearg?
Or rather, about the fact I was already falling for him like a heroine out of one of those fated mates romances Lapis devoured on her lunch break.
She loved reading the particularly ridiculous werewolf bits out loud while Jill and Ken Riley snickered.
Somehow those books seemed a lot less ridiculous since I’d met Dearg and started falling for him…
“Lady Iona?” a male voice asked.
I opened my eyes to find Lt. Ruadháin standing over me, though he’d been quiet as a clam during the visit to the Centauri. Probably still stinging from the dressing down Dearg had given him.
I eyed him warily. Ruadháin had the typical looks of a Sidhe warrior -- as if he’d been created by AI rather than born of anything female.
His violet eyes were large and brilliant, and his nose was as narrow as his mouth was wide, even with the slight pout he wore now.
Probably thought it made his lips look sexy.
Dark blue hair fell in a straight curtain to his hips, and his shoulders looked broad in his elegant blue and green royal uniform that fit his frame in a way that spoke of Brounie tailoring.
Yet he looked more bland than handsome to me, especially compared to Dearg’s intense masculinity.
The expression of arrogance and veiled avarice in Ruadháin’s eyes didn’t help. He looked as if he expected the universe to grovel at the feet of his perfection.
Too bad I wasn’t in the habit of groveling. “Do you have a question?”
The nobleman gave me a smile he probably intended to be seductive. “The granddaughter of Maeve deserves skilled protection, especially given the threats you face.”
Angling for a job then. I gave him my best Police Chief to Impudent Underling Glare. “Lieutenant, I’m a law enforcement officer. I’ve been one for decades. I don’t need guards.”
I watched him weigh the better part of valor against whatever ambition he was trying to fulfill. Ambition won. “It’s said that you do -- that’s why the prince is serving as your bodyguard, though he’s never guarded anyone in his life.”
“He’s certainly had plenty of bodyguards of his own,” I told him dryly.