Chapter Seven #3
“He’s not a creature,’” the goddess said heavily. “He’s your brother.”
I’d been about to take a sip of my whiskey, and the drink slipped from my fingers.
Dearg’s hand flashed out, caught the glass, and returned it to the table. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“Neither did I.” Even I heard the note of icy outrage in my voice as I stared at my grandmother. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Maeve sat back in her chair and dragged her hands through her long green braids. “Because he was born a thousand years ago as part of one of your mother’s plots. They had a falling out and I haven’t seen him in eight hundred years. Quite frankly, I hoped he was dead.”
“I take it he doesn’t exactly send Mother’s Day cards?”
Maeve frowned at me. “What?”
“Never mind. What’s this brother’s name and what plot was he part of?”
“His name is Respen Daemenor. Your mother had decided she wanted a kingdom of her own.” Maeve paused to pour another glass of whiskey and drained it as fast as the first one. “She tried seducing her way into one, but her power drives her suitors insane.”
That made my eyes widen. “What?”
“Why do you think everyone in that court was such a thorough-going bastard?”
“Conal Donovan wasn’t.”
“No, Conal was far stronger than her usual weak-willed pretty boys. Siobhan would have worn him down eventually.” Putting her glass down, Maeve sat back to rake both hands through her braids.
The weary defeat on her face made my heart ache.
“Siobhan hated that about Conal. If he hadn’t contacted me when he did, she’d have killed him for being uncontrollable. ”
The idea of Conal dead made me flinch. As a child, I’d had a ferocious crush on the handsome Changeling who’d defended me from Mother’s male harem while she and Grandmother dueled over me.
“A millennia ago, Siobhan decided she needed a tool she could use to obtain the kingdom she wanted,” my grandmother said.
“Someone who’d obey without question while funneling all the power he collected to her.
She found a river spirit willing to give her what she wanted.
It worked. Her son was about thirteen when he killed his first Sidhe -- one of her lovers -- and absorbed his magic, memories, and abilities.
By the time he reached adulthood, he became his targets so thoroughly that the victim’s own mother didn’t realize Respen had replaced him. ”
“Well, that explains a lot,” Dearg muttered. “And by Cachamwri’s flaming breath, I hope he never gets his hands on Dad.”
I snorted. “If he tries it, my money’s on your father. And your mother will eat the leftovers.”
He smiled, though it looked a little grim. “That is the way they usually handle would-be assassins. Though Mom’s sworn off eating them. Apparently, Dad overcooks his killer kebab with all those fireballs.”
Maeve stared at us, narrow-eyed and annoyed. “Are you done?”
“Your pardon, my lady,” Dearg said, bowing his head.
“Where was I?”
“My psychopath brother.”
“Ah, yes. Siobhan’s plans never quite worked, or at least not for long.
Respen turned out to be as mad as his mother.
His courtiers always caught on there was something horribly wrong with their king that hadn’t been wrong before.
Eventually, they’d figure it out and Respen would have to flee for his life. ”
“If he was anything like Mom, I can see why,” I muttered, remembering some of the more florid acts of cruelty she’d committed.
“Indeed. Siobhan grew frustrated with the poor results and tried to kill him. Respen took to his heels and vanished. When I asked her about him, Siobhan told me she’d killed him.
So when Conal sent me the message that you existed, I knew she’d eventually destroy you the way she had your brother.
” Maeve’s expression went grim as her eyes filled with guilt. “I should have killed her then.”
I laid a hand over hers. “You loved her, Maeve. And she was your child, no matter what she’d done. Besides, convincing her to accept the geas kept her from going after either of us. Otherwise, she’d have killed me long ago.”
“Yes, but what about all her other victims? I was a coward, Iona. And you and the prince are just two of the people who paid the price.”
I rolled my eyes. “Grandma, you’re a goddess of war as well as fertility -- you’re about as squeamish as a crocodile.”
But one look at her face told me she wasn’t kidding. “I failed you, Iona. When she agreed to the geas, I thought it would keep you safe. I just wanted to give you the happy childhood you’d never had.”
I nodded as it became obvious exactly how we’d ended up here. “You didn’t tell me about Respen because you didn’t want me to think I’d go insane too.” I decided not to mention her well-meaning deception hadn’t worked. I’d spent my childhood afraid I’d become the kind of mad bitch my mother was.
There’d been a lot I hadn’t told Maeve.
“Blame yourself for the past later,” Dearg told her. “We have to deal with the mess we’re in now. We need to take Respen out before he kills anyone else.” His gaze hardened. “How do I kill him?”
“How do you kill him?” I asked. “He’s my brother.”
“Exactly. You don’t need the guilt of committing fratricide, no matter how much Respen deserves it. I’m the killer in this relationship. I can end that monster without losing a minute’s sleep. I’ve done it before.”
“Unfortunately, you’re not a demigod,” Maeve told him. “I doubt you can kill him.”
Dearg drew Dragon’s Breath a fraction out of its scabbard, and it spat a storm of sparks. “I may not be a god, but Cachamwri is.”
“Yes, and I doubt he wants to break his Blade on Respen’s particular rock.”
“Then what do we do?” I demanded.
Maeve just stared at me for a long moment as if wrestling with herself. Finally, she came to a decision. “I do have something that might help.” She gestured, and a narrow, intricately carved box appeared on the table.
Maeve opened it, revealing a dagger. Its long, slender blade was engraved with sigils that glowed blue even in the bright afternoon sunlight.
Magic whirled around it, feeling somehow heavy and unpleasant, like cold oil.
Maeve’s blades normally hit psychic notes of heroism to anyone with the ears to hear.
This thing sounded as menacing as Dragon’s Breath.
I eyed it warily. “What the hell is that?”
“I’ve spelled it to disrupt certain blood magic,” Maeve explained. She gestured, and the blade disappeared from its case. I recoiled, feeling a sudden weight dragging on my belt. Though the knife itself weighed little, magically it felt like a cement block.
“Keep it on you at all times,” Maeve told me. “When you need it, cut yourself with it to feed it some of your blood. You can then use it to break the spell.”
I frowned, not sure I liked the sound of that.
We usually didn’t cast many spells with blood, since that sort of magic drew on the life force of the donor for its power.
Examining my belt, I saw the dagger had transformed into an extra canister of OC pepper spray tucked in a spare equipment pouch, just as the sword Maeve had given me disguised itself as an ASP baton.
“What spell am I supposed to break?” Could be a ward.
Maeve often used her blood to create spell barriers. “Her wards?”
Maeve stared at me, and her eyes flashed green from lid to lid. “No,” she said in a tight voice. “This is not for the wards.”
“Then how are we supposed to get to her? Not that I have any idea where Siobhan is…”
“I don’t either,” Maeve admitted. “But when all is said and done, your mother will find you.”
I exchanged a look with Dearg. “Well,” he muttered, “that doesn’t sound sinister. Not at all.”