Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
CAIRN
Awareness is sudden and jarring.
There’s a hand on my chest, a leg hooked over my hip, a foot resting against my shin, and warm breath on my throat.
For three centuries, waking up with a human female in my bed meant swallowing my revulsion, burying my mind so deep the iron couldn’t reach it, and waiting for the humiliation to end.
Ideally in death—hers or mine.
And that instinct is the first thing to rise now.
My entire body locks up, hand rising to my throat, fingers searching for the collar that keeps me captive.
They find nothing.
No iron. No poisoned, leaking wounds. No chain anchoring me to the bed. Only smooth, warm skin beneath my fingertips.
I let my hand fall from my throat to the furs beneath me, and open my eyes. My vision fills with the brilliant, cloudless violet of early morning through the clear ceiling. The past loosens its grip, and my mind finally catches up to what my body has already remembered.
I’m not in the mortal realm, I’m in Underhill, in my room at the top of the keep in Nightward.
And the weight pinning me to the mattress isn’t one of the many human women who bought me.
It belongs to the female who has slowly been burrowing beneath every defense I have.
Now that I’m awake, I can feel the blood bond between us pulsing. Beneath it, the Nightwild thread hums with deep, territorial satisfaction. Since the rite last night, both have become more active, more alive, and so much harder to ignore.
I shift slightly, testing the weight of her leg hooked over my hip. She doesn’t stir, but she does sigh and press her face deeper into the crook of my neck, her fingers curling against my chest. The scent of her fills my lungs with every breath I take.
My hand moves of its own accord, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face, then skimming down the line of her spine. She makes a small, sleepy sound of protest, squirming a little.
“Stop doing that.” Her voice comes out on a breathless laugh as my fingers stroke over her side, and up her ribs. “It tickles.”
I do it again, and she wriggles more, swatting at my hand.
“Stop laughing at me.”
“I never said a word.”
“I can feel it.” She gasps and her head lifts. “Cairn, I can feel it.”
Her hand lifts to press against her chest. “Right here. Is that how it feels for you?”
My hand stills. Survival meant turning my mind into a fortress, locking every genuine emotion away so thoroughly that nothing ever showed on my face or in my actions. Now, my amusement is bleeding straight down the connection we share.
I slide my palm up to cover hers, pressing it flat against her heart.
“Thankfully, no. The Nightwild bonds are not quite the same as the blood bond you and I share. Twelve, emotionally volatile fae connected to me like this would have broken my mind long ago.” I stroke the inside of her wrist with my thumb.
“With practice, you’ll learn to separate them.
Close one off, if you choose. Emotion bleeds through the blood bond. Command comes from Nightwild.”
Her gaze searches my face, and through the bond, I feel the exact moment the truth I’m not speaking hits her.
The magic of the Nightwild may have claimed her for the Guard, but the blood bond gives her access to the one thing I keep buried from the rest of the world.
I’m not ready to consider what that means, so I do what I have always done to survive.
My fingers slide from her hand, trailing over the swell of her breast and up until they find the curve of her neck.
I brush over the dark bruise I left there hours ago.
Her breathing changes, the sudden catch of it sending a rush of heat through me.
My smile is slow and wicked.
“Therin is going to be pleased.” I tighten my hold and roll onto my side so I can face her.
She blinks up at me. “Why?”
“I left you enough voice to curse me.”
It’s fascinating how quickly her cheeks turn pink. She buries her face against my chest, and the bond carries her embarrassment in a bright, sudden flush that has nothing to do with shame, and everything to do with the noises I caused her to make.
I let her hide, trailing my fingers up and down her spine, sweeping lower with each caress. Then her body tenses, her breath snags, and she leans back, putting space between us. When her head lifts, the flush is gone.
“Last night.” Her tongue wets her lips. “Oh gods, I’m so sorry. I had my hands in your hair.”
“You did.” My fingers don’t stop stroking her skin.
“I didn’t think. I never would have, if I’d—”
“Alleria.” I catch her hand and press it against my chest. “Yes, for half a breath, it took me back. My body has been trained to react to that touch, and it won’t change overnight.”
I hold her gaze, and force myself to keep the bond between us open and honest.
“But it was your taste on my tongue. Your scent in my lungs. Your hand in my hair. Between one heartbeat and the next, it no longer mattered.”
I lift her hand to my mouth and kiss each fingertip.
“You took the thing they made into a leash, and turned it into something I will give to you again.”
She bites her lip. “You can’t say things like that!”
“I can say whatever I like.” I capture her lips in a quick kiss. “I’m the Eldráfn of the Nightwild Guard.”
She laughs, her arms coming up to loop around my neck, and I lower my mouth to hers again, slower this time. She melts into the kiss with a soft sound that narrows my focus to her, in my arms, in my bed.
Then a voice carries up from beyond the doors.
“Cairn.”
Alleria freezes.
“I hate to interrupt,” he calls, sounding far too pleased with himself, “but if you’ve finished trying to crack the keep foundations with your noise, I need to talk to you.”
I drop my head back against the furs with an irritable sigh. “Go away, Therin.”
“I considered it, but—”
“Consider it again.”
A pause follows, and the next time he speaks, his voice has lost its humor. “I would love to, but we really do need to talk.”
“Then talk.”
“A messenger has arrived from the Sea Court.”
I sit up. “From Sorynmar?”
“Yes. The Palace of the Ninth Tide has requested the presence of the Nightwild Guard.”
Fuck.
I knew the Sea Court would be the first to react to our return. I shouldn’t be surprised to find they dispatched a messenger so quickly.
“Where are they?”
“Waiting in the great hall.” Therin’s tone turns dry. “I thought dragging him up here while you’re naked and tangled around our newest Guard might be considered poor diplomacy.”
Alleria buries her face into her hands.
I glance down at her. “In all fairness, Therin has made worse choices.”
“I heard that,” Therin says.
“You were meant to.”
A low laugh comes from beyond the door, but it turns serious fast. “Cairn, they sent Mirisath.”
Of course they did.
Alleria looks up from behind her hands, no doubt feeling the tension the name sends through me.
Of all the fae they could have sent, they picked the one I’m most likely to toss off the nearest cliff.
“Did he come alone?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t let him wander.”
“Oh, don’t worry. Brael has that under control. They’re in the courtyard.”
I’m on my feet, the formal leathers of the Nightwild Guard forming around my body, before he’s finished speaking.
“Why would you leave Brael with him?”
“It was Brael who saw him crossing the bridge. Don’t worry, I got there before he gutted the conniving brine-veined Fuath bastard.”
“Call the rest of the Guard. Have them wait for me in the Spear. Send Serath to replace Brael. The last thing we need is them killing each other. I’ll be there shortly.”
“Be quick.”
I turn to Alleria. She’s sitting up among the furs, her eyes on me. She may not know who Mirisath is or what his presence means, but she can read the shift in my posture and the sudden, violent tension in the air.
“I hoped we’d have more time to prepare you for the courts, but we don’t. Mirisath will expect the entire Guard to be present for this meeting.”
I cross the space between us, my fingers finding her jaw to tilt her face up to meet my eyes.
“Stay close to Vessara. Mirisath cannot be trusted.”
“Who is he?”
“The better question is what. He’s old. Dangerous. And far too good at making threats sound like compliments.”
I drop my hand and flick a finger. The heavy furs slide off her body.
“Stand up.”
“Cairn!”
I keep my eyes on hers, though it costs me.
“As much as I really do love to look at you, right now I need you dressed and ready to go.”
Similar leathers to mine materialize over her skin. She gasps softly, looking down at herself, then her hand flies up as her hair weaves itself into a thick, tight braid.
“Your hair loose is mine alone.”
Holding out a hand, I draw her to her feet. “Come.”
The Spear is a long, high room, narrow until the far end, where it flares into a diamond point and earns its name.
One side stands open to the air framing the sky and sea.
Light pours in, leaving the room free of shadows or any place to hide.
The floor is a single slab of obsidian, polished until it throws back a reflection of everything upon it.
Anyone who enters this room will look down and see themselves.
I have stood fae of every court in this room, and watched them learn what it means to ask something of the Nightwild Guard.
The seat on the dais is twin to the one from the rite last night. It’s set at the tip of the spear’s point. Below it, six seats of the same black stone run either side, lower than the dais by a full step.
All but two of the Guard are already seated when we arrive.
Therin sits at the right hand of the seat on the dais, Brael beyond him. Kaelith, Sorel, and Iorel follow. The sixth seat is empty.
Vel sits on the left, followed by Caelum, Maerwyn, Riahn, Vessara, and another empty seat. Their faces are still and unreadable.
All ten rise when I enter, bowing low. My hand falls from Alleria’s back.
“Take your place beside Vessara,” I murmur.
I stay where I am until she’s seated, then I step up onto the dais and turn to look down the length of the chamber. Down the Nightwild bond, I call Serath.
She comes through the smaller archway on the right of the room beside Mirisath and walks forward until he stops ten steps from the seated Guard. She bypasses him, taking her own seat without a word.
He is exactly as I remember. Tall and narrow-bodied, skin the pale gray of storm-lit water, with hair so dark it catches blue in the violet light.
His eyes are black-green, glossy as deep water, and overlarge for his face.
They don’t flicker or dart the way another creature’s would when faced with us.
They are still and focused. The faint webbing between his long fingers catches the light when he moves them.
He inclines his head no further than courtesy demands and not one degree more.
“Cairn.” His voice is low and smooth. “Underhill weeps with joy at your return. I confess I had begun to think the stories were all we would ever have of you.”
“Mirisath. I see the Sea Court sends messages via Fuath now. How far they’ve come.”
A thin smile touches his lips. “The Sea Court sends what the occasion deserves. And the return of the Nightwild Guard, against all hope, surely deserves an old friend.”
Brael stiffens, hand flexing against his thigh. Therin goes utterly still.
They both remember, as do I, who declared the Guard should go to the mortal realm to rescue the Queen.
And who was conveniently absent when the Sea Court chose which of its warriors would ride with us.
“We were never friends.”
“Your words sting.” His too-still eyes hold mine. “We have such history, you and I.” He spreads his webbed hands, the picture of regret. “We would have come for you, had we known. But the Severing was a stubborn thing, and kept the truth of your capture from us.”
The rage stirs, that living thing that has shared my skin for centuries. I shove it down.
“I imagine you know something of how long years can seem,” he continues. “And the patience required for waiting.”
“Your admiration for my patience is noted. Get to the point, Mirisath. The Guard grows bored.”
For the first time, Mirisath’s gaze leaves mine and travels the room—the seats, the still faces, the open wall and the long fall beyond it. Then his eyes find Alleria and linger. The stillness in them sharpens to something appraising. Hungry.
My hand tightens on the arm of my chair.
“My patience is rapidly running out. State what you are here for.”
He turns back to me, unhurried, and the not-smile returns. “Forgive me. A new face in the Guard is rare. And such an interesting one.”
“The Guard is not your concern.”
He dips his head again. “I am sent to deliver an invitation. The Palace of the Ninth Tide requests the presence of the Nightwild Guard in Sorynmar. There is a great deal to discuss, after so long. Matters of balance. Matters of debt. Matters that have waited three hundred years for the Guard to return and answer them.”
Matters of debt.
He knows precisely what he’s saying.
His head lifts higher. “The Sea Court would have you return home, Cairn Vaedráfn.”
“The Sea Court is not my home.”
I rise to my feet, and the entire room seems to lean into the movement.
“Tell Sorynmar the Nightwild Guard will come. We will arrive when we arrive, by our own road, on no court’s leash. Tell them this also.”
I step down off the dais, and Mirisath, for all his stillness, does not hold his ground. He takes half a pace back before he catches himself.
“The Nightwild Guard has returned to Underhill. Every debt left to rot these three hundred years is owed again, with interest. The Sea Court would do well to remember which of those debts are theirs.”
The black-green eyes flatten. For a heartbeat, the mask of courtesy slips, and what is underneath looks out at me, cold and patient and old. Then it’s gone, and he’s bowing, lower this time.
“As the Eldráfn of the Nightwild Guard says.” He straightens. “Sorynmar will be honored.”
“Brael.” I don’t look away from the Fuath. “See our guest back to the bridge. All the way across it. If he wanders, you have my leave to … discourage him.”
Brael’s smile is all teeth. “Gladly.”
None of the Guard moves while Mirisath walks the length of the obsidian, his reflection sinking away beneath him, Brael at his side. I don’t sit back down until he’s gone from sight, and the smell of him leaves the air.
Down the seats, the Guard stirs. Therin turns to me, his voice pitched for me alone.
“They sent him to take our measure. To see what came back.”
“I know.”
“And to remind us of Sorynmar before we set foot in it.”
“I know that too.”