Chapter 33
CHAPTER 33
I zetta hadn’t taken her eyes off Galeeta of House Fernblade. Since the moment Izetta had escaped the way station, she’d daydreamed of exacting revenge. It wasn’t just pain Izetta objected to—a professional killer couldn’t complain too hard about flesh wounds.
It was the damage the fae had done to others—to Rafe, to Sadie, to the youngsters who didn’t know any better because the young should be able to live and learn from their mistakes. She loathed whoever put a prison under a place meant for hospitality. Who thought like that?
Galeeta was guilty—maybe not for everything, but for enough. But now she was propping up her mate with a look of bottomless, helpless grief Izetta would not soon forget. Grief, with a side order of guilt. There was nothing Izetta’s blade could do to top that kind of suffering.
Vengeance was all about timing. Izetta would get her justice, but it would have to wait. The realization left her more than a little disgruntled.
Until the fae king who looked like a storybook Prince Charming began asking about the Magician. That perked her up .
“Please, sire.” Izetta strolled toward the king, making a perfunctory bow. “I have evidence of the Magician’s identity.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” Malatest protested from the sidelines. Then he and the Alpha began shouting at once, making a confused, angry babble.
“Silence!” Elroth barked and waved for Izetta to continue.
“I just figured it out,” she said, addressing Malatest as well as Elroth. “And it’s not as simple as you think.”
She pulled out her phone and fussed with it for a moment, then held it up so that Elroth could see. He took the phone from her with a respectful nod, seeming not to notice her battle-stained clothes and wild hair.
“This is security camera footage of the Magician,” she said. “I’ve personally verified it with half a dozen witnesses who were present in the same venue that night. It’s the only image we have of him.”
As he watched, she took the opportunity to study the king’s profile. His features were a little more rugged than most fae, his hair a shade darker and tinted with auburn lights. Definitely handsome.
Elroth remained silent until the video ended. “Unfortunately, we do not see his face.”
Izetta scrolled the video back, tapped the image on her phone and expanded it. “Look at his hair ornament.”
Elroth peered at the phone again, a frown of concentration pleating his brow. “I know that design. I know the silversmith who created it.”
Izetta pulled Teegar’s hair clip from her pocket and held it up. The clip was about four inches wide, shaped in a twisting infinity loop. What made it unique was that the loop was an elongated, striped cat, with fangs and claws extended. “I would say this is a match.”
The king took the clip from Izetta’s hand. An angry flush rose along his cheekbones, and his fingers closed around the ornament so tightly his knuckles grew white.
“Teegar was trusted by my father first, and then by me,” the king said roughly. “He was a good leader of his men. A simple, honest soldier—or so I thought.”
A surprised murmur rippled through the fae, but it quickly grew angry once the wolves and vampires joined in. The tension made Izetta twitchy enough to scan the room for possible threats. Her eye caught the prisoner who had thrown the spear. The gagged fae met her gaze with an insolence that made her itch to break his neck.
Fireballs. He wore Errata’s amulet. That’s what had left him free from the spell that froze everyone else—and able to throw his weapon. She took two steps forward and, vampire-quick, she ripped it from his neck. It must have hurt, because Farras let out a grunt.
“He stole that from my friend,” she said to anyone listening, but no one stirred.
“Teegar? Where is he?” the king bellowed. “Where is Captain Teegar?”
A gasp rose from the fae. Izetta felt as much as heard the panic in it, like the vibrations from a badly-tuned instrument. She cast a sideways glance at Elroth. He was obviously a master at hiding his thoughts, but the downward twitch of his sculpted mouth gave him away. He’d heard it, too.
Some of the fae knew Teegar’s secret. That made sense, if what she’d heard about fae using the drug was true. They had to know who sold it to them, and now their playtime was over. Names would be named, and judging by the royal frown, it would not go well for those on Elroth’s naughty list.
The six wolves who had been imprisoned under the waystation escorted Teegar into the hall. The fae standing near the entrance parted to make way for the strange procession, holding back their cloaks and skirts as if afraid the wolves might brush against them.
Teegar’s hands were still bound and his clothes ragged and caked in mud. Leaves stuck in his snarled hair. But when he caught sight of Farras, his bruised and dirty face blazed with defiance.
His escort positioned him directly before the king. When the wolves drew back, Izetta shoved Teegar to his knees. He hit the floor with a thump.
Elroth regarded his captain for a long moment. “I trusted you.”
“But you never thought to make me more than what I was,” Teegar replied so quietly that Izetta barely made out the words. There was an ache in his voice that spoke of enduring disappointment.
“I can only grant my subjects what they earn.”
“I deserved more. You are the king. You could have changed everything.”
Elroth heaved a weary sigh, as if he’d heard this argument countless times before. “Not even I can make you something you are not prepared to make yourself.”
Teegar looked confused.
“You see, the problem, sire,” Izetta said. “This is the Magician’s body, all right, but I can’t believe this blank canvas represents the Magician’s brain. That’s why I wasn’t about to let my friends play chew toy with him just yet. He’s not your final answer.”
The wolves whined. The king looked from them, to Izetta, and finally at Teegar. “Then who is your partner?”
The color drained from Teegar’s face. There was no way out of the hole he’d dug for himself, whether or not he answered the king.
Izetta enjoyed the moment until one of the fae—Galeeta’s husband—struggled to his feet. Her gut twisted in sympathy. It took a lot to weaken a fae, but time in the cells had done it. His strength was clearly spent.
She couldn’t help glancing at the female fae—Lila—who stood to the side with King Elroth’s retinue. The young fae was disheveled and dirty, but what Izetta noticed was the way she looked at her father. That much shock and grief left a mark.
“May I speak, Your Majesty?” Lila’s father asked in a cracked voice. “I believe I may shed some light on this matter.”
“Lord Gareth, is that you?” Elroth said with obvious shock.
“Indeed, sire. I have been reflecting on my choices in the privacy of a cell.”
The king beckoned him forward. “Please come and share what you know.”
At Elroth’s signal, Lila hurried to her father’s side to help him approach. A fae warrior in silver armor followed. Together, they bore Lord Gareth’s weight as he slowly made his way toward the king. He stumbled once, nearly taking Lila with him, but as soon as they drew close, Gareth waved her off and approached the king, bowing low.
“As always, I am at your disposal, Your Majesty.”
“As always, old friend,” the king said gently. “Please rest assured that you were not apprehended on my authority. It grieves me to see you in distress.”
“Your concern does me honor, sire.” Gareth pulled himself upright and cast a hard look at Teegar. “As does your interest in what I have to say.”
“Please share what you know.”
“I was arrested by Captain Teegar for the possession of a trunk containing, so I am told, wealth gained by illegal means.”
As he spoke, his voice shook with fatigue. Izetta took a step closer, reluctant to miss a single word.
“What illegal means?” Elroth asked. “Stolen goods? The sale of bacchante? ”
Gareth shrugged. “I do not know the particulars of my criminal career. In fact, I do not remember it at all.”
A ripple passed through the crowd, more horror than amusement at the jest.
“However,” Gareth continued, “it was Lord Farras who stored the trunk—along with other household goods—at my residence while his own house was being redecorated. I postulate that he is the captain’s partner in crime. It would take someone that unprincipled to bring bacchante to our streets.”
If the fae had been shocked when Teegar was accused, this time the crowd responded with a din. A handful of bystanders chose that moment to slip out the door and into the night.
“That would make sense, sire,” Izetta said, looking at the fae king, “if your would-be assassin was the brains of the operation and the one who supplied the product. But then why was Teegar in the cells? And why was this man arrested?”
Gareth shook his head, his smile crooked. “Madam, I was unwittingly in possession of all the lovely gold. That made me theoretically guilty, and that gave Lord Farras leverage over my family. As for Captain Teegar, I would suggest our two culprits had a partnership that soured, and he wasn’t clever enough to make himself scarce.”
“Partnership?” Teegar exploded, loud enough that several people jumped. “Farras is a spider. Once his fangs are in, he sucks you dry. When I finally came here to settle things, I woke up in a cell.”
“Were you aware that there was a prison here?” Elroth asked pointedly. “In a way station where any fae who asks should be guaranteed safety?”
Teegar scowled. “Even the dungeons have dungeons here, my king. The cells are where I picked up my supply, nice and hidden. Lord Farras never built this nightmare to be a safe place.”
Izetta glanced at Farras, who stood bolt upright, eyes blazing with fury. Teegar had doomed them both .
“That is all the confession I need for now.” Elroth nodded to his warriors. “Teegar is henceforth stripped of rank and title and shall be held for trial. See to it that representatives of the wolves and Undead have equal rank with the fae when it comes to judgment. The crimes of the Magician are not against us alone.”
The wolves and Undead made approving noises. Malatest and the Alpha stepped forward to nod their heads in thanks.
King Elroth returned the gesture. Then his attention went to Izetta. “Many thanks for your assistance, my lady.”
“You are welcome, sire, though I’m not a lady. I am Izetta.”
“Izetta. Your name is known even in the Gilden Wood. I am glad we met in pursuit of a common goal.”
She smiled, showing her fangs. “One word of advice, sire, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” he replied, his brows rising.
“The Magician had customers among your people. Don’t forget they’ll need you now.”
He put a hand to his heart. “I’m taking my people to a place of healing. I promise you they will have whatever they require.”
Izetta had heard plenty of promises from men with crowns, but Elroth seemed to mean it. She retreated to where the vampires stood while Lila and the silver-clad warrior returned Lord Gareth to his family.
Teegar was taken away. He cried and cursed as he vanished through the portal between two of the king’s warriors, while the wolves and vampires cheered.
“And now,” the king said, his eyes growing sharp. “What shall we do with Lord Farras?”
“Elroth is angry,” Malatest murmured as Izetta reached his side. “If I were Farras, I would grovel very hard.”
Errata appeared on her other side. Silently, Izetta handed her back her amulet.
The werecougar stuffed it in her pocket. “Good work up there. Can I get a copy of that video? ”
Izetta didn’t reply. The warrior in black was dragging Farras before the king. The fae lord had lost none of his insolence, but his hands were shaking now. Whether it was fear or rage, she could not tell.
“Why?” Elroth asked Farras. “You are my cousin, wealthy and talented, and you have always had my ear. What could you want so dearly that I must die?”
The room grew so silent, Izetta thought she could hear the shadows slide along the floor.
“The sovereign power of the throne,” Farras said simply.
Color rose again in Elroth’s face. “Treason.”
“Call it creative self-interest.”
“Let me guess,” Elroth said dryly. “Killing me would only get you so far without the support of your peers, so you invented your drug to addict, bankrupt, or blackmail your way to an army of obedient hangers-on.”
“Oh, I did not invent bacchante, merely discovered a source.” Farras smiled, showing bloody teeth where a blow had cut the inside of his mouth. “And I rarely got involved in the details. There were so many other transactions that required my personal touch.”
A rustle of indrawn breath circled the hall. How many here had got that personal touch? By the sullen mood among the fae, Izetta guessed quite a few.
“Why involve other supernaturals?” Elroth demanded.
“For the gold,” Farras replied, catching and holding the king’s gaze. “If you got out more, you’d know money is as good as magic in the real world. You talk about a decline in fae power, but instead of navigating the future, you run back to the forest like a startled deer. Change happens, cousin, whether you embrace it or not.”
Elroth’s head jerked back as if a snake had reared before him. “Oh, cleverly spoken, Farras. You do enjoy the sharp edge of your honest wit. ”
Farras shrugged one shoulder, his bound hands robbing the gesture of his usual grace. “So cut my head off.”
“You expect to die, do you?” Elroth’s smile was pitying, and for the first time, Farras’s defiance faltered.
“What—”
“I did not give you leave to speak, fool.” The king grabbed the top of Farras’s head, spreading his fingers wide to grip his skull. “If you long to be close to the throne, I can ensure you will always have a place beside it.”
Eyes wide with sudden understanding, Farras screamed. “ No! ”
Magic slammed into Farras with the force of a war hammer, making him shudder wildly. Light flickered around Elroth and his prisoner, but not the usual light fae glow. This was an absence of color—jagged scraps of nothing ripping the air around them. The backwash alone made Izetta stagger, but Farras curled forward until his forehead touched the floor. This was the power of the sovereign he had wanted so badly, but now it was turned against him.
Farras slowly shriveled—Izetta could think of no other word as his flesh seemed to evaporate from twisting bones. When Elroth finally released him, he stayed curled up on the floor, slowly rocking back and forth.
“Get up, fool.” Elroth nudged him with his foot. “You have new duties.”
Farras pushed himself to his knees. When he looked up, the bones of his face had altered, so that chin and nose were too sharp, like a child’s nutcracker doll. His hair had crisped and frizzed to a ragged sun around his head.
“My liege,” he wheezed.
A collective shudder passed through the fae huddled against the walls. One of the wolves threw up. Izetta wished she could. Every vampire understood transformation, but she’d never seen anything like this.
“Be it known that you, Farras of the Forest Fae, are stripped of wealth, of title, and of all your magic,” Elroth said, his voice carrying the full weight of authority. “You will never be king of the fae, but I sentence you to be the Lord of Misrule.”
Farras let out a shriek of rage that sounded like tearing metal.
“It has been many years since I had a court jester,” the king said. “But you are fully qualified for the position.”
Farras scrambled to his feet but could not pull himself upright. His bones were no longer straight. He stumbled, caught himself, and howled in defiant anger. When he finally got control of his limbs, he weaved and bobbed with a strange, hopping gait.
“I will kill you in your sleep,” he rasped, brandishing claw-like fingers. “I will tear out your eyes and devour them. I will drip poison in your wine.”
“Then I shall pen you with the hounds until you mend your ways,” the king said blandly. “You will have to earn your comforts, cousin.”
“This is not who I am!” Farras shrieked.
“It is exactly who you are,” Elroth retorted. “Every monarch who sits the Throne endures the test of this particular magic. The purpose is to reveal a fae’s true spirit, to manifest their nature in the flesh, and so it has done with you.”
Arms raised, Farras hurled himself at the king with another ear-splitting scream. The warrior in black grabbed the jester by the back of his torn silk tunic, holding him in place while his feet still tried to pedal forward.
Elroth looked on, his face pale. “Let this be an education for anyone tempted to treason. The Throne is not a prize to be taken, but a trust to be defended. Until Farras understands his own folly, he will remain a fool.”
Wolf, fae, or Undead—they all stared in profound shock. The shifters shuffled closer together, needing the comfort of touch. When Errata’s shoulder brushed hers, Izetta slipped her arm through the cat’s .
“Vlad’s fangs,” Malatest said under his breath. “And I came here looking for revenge.”
Izetta made a soft noise that might have been a stillborn laugh. “We’re rank amateurs, my friend. There’s a reason we’re scared of the fae.”
The king addressed his retinue. “Take my jester away and find him motley. Perhaps Bronkin left something he can wear.”
The moment Farras approached the portal, the way station he had built began to tremble.