Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
A chill smile curved Lord Farras’s lips, though his eyes showed nothing. Not for the first time, he reminded Lila of a sleek but deadly serpent. She shifted the tiny pocketknife in her hand, hiding it from sight.
“What did you do to Rafe?” she demanded. It was the wrong tone to take with a lord, but she was done being polite. Rafe might be hurt.
“The wolf? Nothing more than a push and a tumble back to the kennel where he belongs.”
Anger heated her cheeks. “You had no right.”
“Of course, I did. You failed to keep your pet properly leashed,” he replied, making every word precise. “And I don’t approve of animals in the house.”
“I neither need nor desire your approval.”
Cool amusement flickered across his face. “As I said, we need to talk.”
He reached for her, but she deflected his grasp with a whisper of magic. If the rebuff surprised him, he didn’t let it show.
“What if I have no appetite for conversation?” she asked. “I decked the banquet halls and plumped your pillows. I put on a dress and danced with you. What more welcome do you think you deserve?”
“Are you offended because a messenger interrupted our dance?” He laughed. “That was the king’s formal invitation for me to join his retinue on the road to Gilden Wood.”
“Judging by your expression, I’d say it was a summons.”
Now she saw a gratifying spark of anger in his eyes. She straightened her spine an extra inch, refusing to cower. She’d been waiting for this moment since her girlhood.
With a sound of annoyance, Farras seized her wrist so hard she lost feeling in her fingers. She struggled to keep hold of the knife, but her efforts were useless. He plucked it from her fingers and snapped the blade shut with his free hand before dropping it in his pocket. All the while, he held her gaze with a look of barely-banked rage.
“If you must express your outrage,” he snarled, “do me the courtesy of using a proper dagger.”
With that, he jerked her arm hard enough to make her stumble forward. A pair of fae walked by, but they wore his gray livery and quickly turned their faces away. No one was going to stop Farras, even for a daughter of House Fernblade.
“Where are we going?” She tried to stop, but the marble floor was too slippery to dig in her heels.
“The closest room where private conversation is possible.”
She pushed back with her power again, but this time, he was prepared. She might have been attacking a concrete wall with a birthday cake sparkler. His only response was a disgusted grunt.
He shoved her into the kitchen where she’d first encountered Rafe. The location was already in use by a half-dozen servers preparing refreshments. Several were ladling hot spiced wine into goblets. One startled as they barreled in, narrowly missing his feet with the steaming liquid.
“Out!” Farras ordered, pointing toward the door. “I need the room now . ”
The servants immediately downed their tools and left, not even pausing to mop up the puddle of spilled wine. Farras pushed Lila forward until she bumped against the steel doors of the refrigerator, then finally let her go. She spun to face him, her hands on her hips.
The bright lights of the kitchen bleached all subtlety from the embroidered hues of his silk tunic, washing the cream color to a dirty white. It did nothing to soften his angry pallor.
“I know you tried to leave,” he said, taking in her ill-fitting clothes in one sneering glance. “I adjusted the perimeter wards on this property, but anyone who was paying attention felt them activate.”
“Why keep me here?” she demanded. “What good does that do?”
The intense smell of the hot wine made her eyes water. She wondered if it was possible to get drunk by inhalation.
“They say a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.” His finely-carved features shifted back to his usual expression of mild amusement. “It’s a human saying, but true nonetheless. You have an agile mind—better than either of your parents’. I have no idea what information you’ve managed to piece together about my activities, but I’m disinclined to let you leave right now. Not until your loyalties are assured.”
She heard the threat but refused to show her mounting panic. “Ironic, since I can’t get anyone to tell me what’s going on.”
“What do you think is going on? And why are you so quick to make an ally of the wolf?” To her surprise, he seemed genuinely curious.
“The wolf—Rafe—came here on the trail of the Magician. He wasn’t the first. We found the graves of his pack members in the woods, and no one here knows a thing about how they died.” She flung the last words down as a challenge. “Does that mean anything to you? ”
His eyes narrowed. “The Magician. I have heard something about him.”
“Who is he?” she demanded. “They say he’s a light fae.”
A brief silence followed. A clutch of partygoers passed outside the window, their raucous laughter bearing witness to the free-flowing drink. Lila wished herself out there with them. Farras cleared his throat, drawing her attention back into the room.
“I don’t have an answer for you,” Farras replied. “There are a great many theories, but little proof.”
That wasn’t the same as not knowing. “The shifters and the Undead have tried to stop him. Have the fae?”
He straightened, pacing the few strides to the cooktop and back again. The floor sounded sticky beneath his feet. “Not officially. There have been informal investigations. In most cases, those revealed who the Magician is not.”
“He’s killing people.”
Farras stood, hands on hips, mirroring her pose. “The dead are not fae and, therefore, not our affair.”
“You can’t be serious.”
He paused to push aside the empty wine bottles resting on the counter. “I am. Our concerns are greater. What the Magician has in his arsenal is access to a kind of power the fae have never considered before now. It is not widely known, but what he offers his victims is a drug popularly known as bacchante. It was named after the murderous fangirls of the Greek god Bacchus.”
Lila’s mouth drifted open. “A drug? We use occasional potions, yes, but what do fae—or any supernatural, for that matter—have to do with drugs? That’s a human vice.”
“This one is different from the others. As you’ve no doubt heard, fae power dims when we’re surrounded by concrete.”
“People say that, but I don’t believe it.”
Farras gave a slight shake of the head. “Believe it of those with less magic in their blood. They’re fading like cheap paint. The drug sharpens magical powers, brings back what’s been lost. Unfortunately, users develop a craving for the rush of magic, especially when they’ve feared it lost forever.”
“It makes them addicts,” Lila replied. “The cost doesn’t sound appealing.”
“Some users claim to see the angels,” Lord Farras said with a hint of laughter. “But who believes in such things?”
She shifted her weight to one hip. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I.” He was instantly sober again. “The important facts are that the drug exists, the Magician sells it, and any who use it are quite prepared to dance to his tune. It gives him influence and the most democratic power of all—wealth.”
“And they pay him even if it might be fatal?”
“No one believes the worst will happen to them.” Farras shrugged. “The dead are not fae. Humans can’t tolerate bacchante at all, but other species experience a euphoric state once or twice before the drug drives them mad.”
“That’s appalling.”
“The Undead are particularly susceptible. After a thousand years, any new experience has great appeal.”
Lila swallowed hard, feeling something inside her erode beneath his words. Maybe it was innocence.
“How do you know all this?” She studied Farras. “Are you the Magician?”
There was a beat of silence. “No. No, I am not.”
There was no hint of falsehood in the words. Lila wasn’t sure if she was reassured or disappointed. “Then how do you know his business?”
“It is my business to know everything,” he replied. “Especially when there aren’t many strings in the fae world that the Magician can’t pull. And before you ask me if I intend to stop him, the answer is yes, if the opportunity presents itself, and if I believe it is to my advantage.”
“And not because it would spare so many deaths?” Lila’s tone grew sharp .
A snatch of song drifted through the window. Someone outside had a flute.
He gave a low laugh. “Is the foolishness of strangers my responsibility?”
“Those who have much, owe much to their fellows.”
“Ah, schoolroom morality.” He began to pace again, but this time he moved closer, giving her no room to step out of his way. “Are you truly so unaware of your position? I believe I heard Galeeta mention your father’s situation.”
Lila stiffened until her calf muscles hurt. “She said you would appeal to the king on his behalf.”
“And your cooperation is the price of my aid.” He smiled, though it held no warmth.
“Cooperation?” she asked, glancing past him toward the door as footsteps sounded outside. No one came in.
“You will support both our houses.”
She swallowed down bile. The smell of wine was starting to turn her stomach. “What support can I possibly offer you?”
The clean lines of Farras’s face grew sharp. “The only reason I would assist your father is because he belongs to House Fernblade. What your family lacks in fortune is more than balanced by a long magical lineage.”
She gave a hollow laugh that sounded more like a moan. “And having us as allies would somehow boost your power base? Don’t you have power enough?”
“I think that question has already been asked and answered today. Power is an infinite good. All species understand it, whether it’s gold or land or the right to deflower every bride in the village.” He lightly brushed her cheek with his fingertips, laughing under his breath when she flinched away. “Ultimately, it guarantees survival. Your enemy’s throat is in your jaws instead of the other way around.”
Lila jumped as the door opened suddenly, allowing a wash of conversation to enter. Beneath it, she heard the gong announcing the next course. With a frown, Farras turned to see who had disturbed them. Lila sidestepped enough to see it was Ademar, leaning on his cane. High color flushed his cheeks and the top few buttons of his tunic were undone. It was plain he’d been enjoying the wine Farras had brought from his estates in straw-packed crates.
“Ademar!” she said, putting an urgent plea in her voice.
“Lila?” He frowned at the clothes she’d pilfered from his private room. “What is going on?”
She surged toward her brother, eager for any excuse to get away from Farras. The fae lord gripped her elbow before she could get more than a handful of steps.
“We’re enjoying a private conversation,” Farras replied. “I heard the summons to return to the feast. You should go. We’ll join you when we’re done here.”
Lila widened her eyes, silently pleading for Ademar’s aid. That look had always worked when they’d been children—her big brother had never failed to come to her rescue. Even now, when he acknowledged her with the slightest nod, she had hope.
“Did you have a reason to interrupt us?” Farras asked Ademar in a pointed tone.
Ademar bowed, leaning heavily on his cane. “My apologies, milord, there was supposed to be hot wine to serve guests seated in the garden. I promised my mother I would personally find out why it failed to appear.”
Farras waved a dismissive hand. “Galeeta is free to place the blame at my feet.”
Ademar bowed again, catching Lila’s gaze one last time. “Again, I am sorry for the interruption.”
Then he made his exit, leaving her alone with Farras. Lila’s stomach hollowed out with dismay. All she could do was stare mutely at the door.
“He is a talented pupil,” Farras remarked. “He learns quickly.”
“Evidently.” The word came out as a mere whisper .
“I trained him as a boy,” he said. “Riding. Swordsmanship. The beginnings of a proper magical education.”
“I remember that.”
“I’m sure you do.” Farras’s tone had lost its edge, as if he meant to make himself agreeable now. “Those summers at the king’s palace. You learned how to ride on that little white horse Elroth gave you.”
She said nothing, remembering the stables and Farras’s lamed steed.
“Your brother resumed his studies with me a few years ago, shortly after you left for the city. His rapid progress shows how your magical bloodline runs true, from the Grand Duchess, through your mother, and onto her children.”
“Congratulations on finding an apt pupil.”
“I want more than a student,” he said, stepping in front of Lila so that she was trapped against the refrigerator once more. “Don’t be deliberately obtuse. Not if you want your father back.”
“I would rather be dead than have that conversation.”
“A bold statement.”
“Why was my father arrested?”
“Your father is a good man, but not a wise one. He was arrested for possessing the proceeds of illegal trade.”
“My father would never do anything so dishonorable,” Lila replied, somehow staying calm. “That’s not who he is.”
“You may be right. I personally believe he was ignorant of where the gold came from, but the king’s justice will never take that fact into account. Your mother knows that, which is why she sought me out as an advocate to clear his name.”
Lila’s breath caught. For an instant she felt Galeeta’s distress as a physical ache. For all their differences, her parents loved one another fiercely. “That explains a great deal.”
He shrugged. “Such devotion would be charming if all she wanted was to clear his name. But Galeeta wants a place at the king’s table, even if that entails kidnapping a captain of his guard.”
Lila said nothing.
His mouth curled into a predatory grin. “If you recall your pretty horse from that long-ago summer, you should also remember that you were promised to me as my bride. Fernblade blood carries strong magic and my lineage is royal. Our children will have every claim to the Crown.”
Not without treason. “That marriage promise was annulled.”
He held up his hands, weighing two invisible loads. “Join our houses, and I will free your father. Your family will be safe and happy all their days. Refuse me, and I will send them to join the vermin buried in the woods.”
Lila’s mind skated over the ultimatum, unable to take it in, until her attention snagged on the last few words. “What do you know about the wolves?”
He gave a short, hard laugh. “I built this house. I keep it secure.”
“ You killed them. ” She took a stride forward, forcing him to bump into the steel table behind him.
“I put them to sleep, quite literally. It was a tidy and painless end, if that matters to you.”
“Why?”
“They were prying where they had no right to go.”
“I heard you don’t like getting your hands dirty, but why not kill them right away?”
“Because I could do something more interesting. Because I could test variations of the Sleeping Beauty spell on living subjects.” His lip curled in distaste. “And because I thought the prisoners might be leverage with the rest of the pack, should I need their services. Sadly, their spies didn’t survive long enough to prove useful.”
“Spies? They were looking for the Magician,” she shot back, glaring up into his face .
Farras blew out an exasperated breath. “Well, he’s not here, is he?”
Everything he’d said solidified at once. He wanted the throne. He’d use her to get it. He’d destroy her family if she refused. And he’d killed Rafe’s pack.
What wouldn’t he do to get his way?
In one smooth motion, Lila reached behind Farras, grabbed one of the bottles still full of wine, and swung. Surprise was on her side. The glass smashed against the lord’s skull, sending a shower of blood and merlot across the black and white tiles. He went down, bouncing against the refrigerator as he fell.
Lila jumped back as he slumped at her feet. She dropped the broken bottle and raced for the door.
She may well have doomed them all.