Storm's Heart

  Rune said, “This is why you have so few friends, dipshit.”

  Niniane clapped her other hand over her mouth. Don’t laugh. After a moment she managed to say, “Thank you for letting me know. . . .” She lifted her fingers from her eyes to squint at Tiago.

  That one is Bruin, Tiago told her.

  “Thank you, Bruin. Aryal and Rune may enter.”

  “Yes, your highness,” said the soldier.

  She muttered, “Although if they don’t start pretending to have some manners I’m going to kick them out again.”

  Tiago put his hands on his hips. “You’ll have to get in line, faerie.”

  She sat up as the sentinels stepped into the tent. Her exasperation faded as she got a good look at them. They were streaked with mud and dirt, and both looked tired. Aryal’s gaze fell on her plate. The harpy’s expression turned hopeful and she started forward. “There’s food?”

  Tiago smacked Aryal in the back of the head. It didn’t look like a gentle blow. “Touch her plate and die.”

  “Ow!” Aryal glared at him and rubbed the back of her head.

  “There’s still plenty in the cooler,” Niniane told them.

  Rune had already gone to investigate. He bit half the meat off a chicken leg in one bite and chewed as he stretched his neck first one way then the other. “We’ve done all we can,” he said around his mouthful. “Durin and one of Kellen’s attendants have treated Arethusa’s body with herbs and wrapped it, so it’s ready to be transported to Adriyel for a proper burial.”

  Wyr tended to prefer cremation, so when Rune mentioned a “proper” burial, which was more of a Dark Fae concept, it was clear he was speaking to the two sets of ears on the other side of the tent walls. Tiago shook his head and strode outside. Niniane, Rune and Aryal fell silent. They listened as he told the two guards, “We have too many guards and not enough off-rotation. I’ll send for the next pair when we need them. For now, go get some shut-eye.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Tiago reappeared. He scooped up Niniane, blanket and all, and settled in a chair again with her in his lap. Rune carried the cooler to the second chair, and Aryal sprawled on the floor beside him. The two sentinels divided the cooler’s contents between them.

  Niniane rested her forehead in the crook of Tiago’s neck and let her eyes drift half closed. Tiago told the other two, “Spill it.”

  Aryal licked sugar from a turnover off of her fingers. “Inconclusive. We’re Wyr on Dark Fae land. We can only request others’ cooperation; we can’t command it. We could only take things so far when we questioned people.”

  The growl started so low in Tiago’s chest, Niniane was probably the only one who heard it. She put her flattened hand against his heavy pectoral, stroking, and he quieted.

  Rune said, “Arethusa’s body has a wound behind one ear, caused by a blow made with some kind of blunt object, but her death looks consistent with drowning. Theoretically she could have slipped, hit her head and drowned, but it’s clear by how everyone is acting that nobody believes her death was an accident. The problem is, there’s simply no proof. Whoever killed her knew just what to do. They watched and waited until most of the encampment was asleep or in their tents. They had to have waded in the water because there’s no definitive scent in the immediate area.”

  “Don’t misunderstand, there are plenty of scents and plenty of tracks,” Aryal muttered. “We scoured every inch of the riverbank, and they’re all over the goddamn place. And almost everybody has something wet or damp in their possession. The whole camp has been down to the river at some point, to either wash or haul water.”

  Rune opened the container of potato salad. He took the fork Niniane had left on her abandoned plate and began shoveling food into his mouth. He said, “I think the killer did the simplest thing possible and bashed her over the head with a rock, threw the murder weapon into the water and let the river take care of the rest. Maybe it was someone Arethusa trusted, or at least someone she discounted as a threat, or maybe it was someone capable of sneaking up behind her and catching her by surprise. It had to be one or the other. Arethusa wouldn’t have turned her back to just anybody.”

  The thought of such quiet, calculating malice made Niniane shudder. Tiago cupped her cheek. His fingers curled around the back of her neck, underneath her hair, and he stroked her face with his thumb. He nodded to the manila envelope on the floor and told Aryal and Rune, “Look at what Arethusa left for me, in care of one of her men.”

  Aryal pulled out the checkbook and papers. The harpy held them up so she and Rune could both stare at them. Rune murmured, “That’s motive right there, baby.”

  “Here’s how I piece it together,” Tiago said. “Someone works on Geril and gets him to try to kill Niniane. That someone also has access to Urien’s mansion, finds this bogus company in his files and decides to use it. If Geril succeeds, he gets paid. If fallout from Niniane’s death causes an investigation that uncovers the payment, the Wyr get blamed. Only Arethusa talked to us, so she didn’t stop digging when she was supposed to, and she found this file. She kept quiet because she knew one of the Dark Fae had done it, but she wasn’t sure who.”

  “She wouldn’t have had the authority to dig through Aubrey’s or Kellen’s belongings, not without creating a big stink,” Niniane said. “We would have heard if that had happened.”

  “And we didn’t slink off in disgrace the way we were meant to,” Rune said. He sat forward, his elbows on his knees. “So—what, you think maybe someone discovered this file had gone missing? I wonder where it was when Arethusa found it.”

  “Our someone wouldn’t have wanted to keep something so incriminating,” Tiago said. “The file was probably put back where it had been found in case it might be useful again, or better yet, it was hidden somewhere else, in a cubbyhole, or stuffed under towels in a linen closet. That was a big house. It had a lot of hiding places.”

  “Our someone likes to hedge bets,” Rune said. “But he made another mistake by not destroying that file.”

  Aryal yawned. She had stretched out on the floor, her long legs crossed at the ankle. She said in a drowsy voice, “I could start bitch-slapping people. Sooner or later somebody would squawk.”

  Niniane was so tired. It had sunk deeper than her bones and become a cold ache that dragged at her spirits. It was exhaustion that made her eyes leak. It had to be.

  She said, “I don’t know why you’re all being so circumspect. It’s not like you to dance around something instead of just saying it.”

  Tiago’s arms tightened. He held her with his whole body, but it was Rune who asked, “What do you mean, pip-squeak?”

  “Anybody who had been in that mansion could have found that file,” she said. “But the one who probably did was the one responsible for going through Urien’s financial papers, as well as for overseeing all the other Dark Fae financial matters.”

  Aryal tilted her head to look at Niniane. The harpy wore a rare expression of sympathy.

  Rune said, “You think the killer was Chancellor Aubrey.”

  “I don’t want to think that,” she said. Her voice sounded small, and as cold as the rest of her had become. “But suspecting him without proof would have been more than enough reason to keep Arethusa quiet.” She tilted back her head to look up at Tiago. “What do you think?”

  His hard-edged face was quietly savage as he looked at the pain in her face.

  Aubrey had said to Niniane, If I had known you were alive, I would never have stopped searching for you. It had felt like the truth. What if the reasons behind the statement were much less benign than what Aubrey had inferred? Had he ever unequivocally refuted his distant connection to the throne?

  Upon reflection, Tiago thought not. It disturbed him, especially considering how Aubrey was already centrally positioned in the Dark Fae government and secure in his allies and relationships. Now one of the major Dark Fae power brokers was dead, the checks-and-balance system built into their triad disrupted
, and their army leaderless.

  He kissed Niniane with lingering tenderness. Then he said, “I think we should get to Adriyel as fast as we can.”

  NINETEEN

  Change of plans.

  They could not take Aubrey into custody without proof, not with so many highly placed witnesses present, and they could not allow him to reconnect with his power base in Adriyel and possibly gain control of the army. The same applied to Kellen. Without proof, they could not conclusively clear Kellen of suspicion. For all they knew, Aubrey and Kellen might have struck up an alliance and were now working together. Niniane had to leave, and quickly, but she also had to travel in the right way. If it were a simple matter of who reached Adriyel first, Tiago, Rune and Aryal could shift into their Wyr forms and carry her to Adriyel in a matter of hours, not days. But she could not be seen to take power through the Wyr.

  She said to Tiago, “The troops need to go with us.”

  “Agreed,” Tiago said. “Yesterday Arethusa told me the trip would take the group three days from this point forward. We had an easy day, so our horses are still fresh. If we travel light and push it, we can make Adriyel in a day, maybe a day and a half.” He looked at Rune and Aryal. “You need to stay behind and monitor what everyone does when we leave.”

  Aryal stretched and sat up. “Should be interesting.”

  Cameron pushed through the hangings, shoes in one hand, scabbard in the other, her hair tousled and face creased. She said in a sleep-gravelly voice, “What about me?”

  “You come up with us,” Tiago said.

  Cameron nodded. She looked unsurprised. She slanted a grin at Niniane and said, “My sore ass can’t wait.”

  Niniane snorted. “Mine either.”

  Tiago passed a hand over Niniane’s hair. “Do you need to sleep for an hour or two before we leave?”

  She shook her head. “I rested and ate. I’ll live.”

  “Right. Here’s packing made easy for you. It’ll be a food, water and weapons kind of trip.” He stood and set her gently on her feet. “I’ll go muster the troops and get our horses saddled. Plan to leave in half an hour. Less if I can manage it.”

  “Okay.” She watched him leave then she looked at Cameron. “That gives you time to eat something.”

  Cameron looked around at the empty cooler and array of empty containers. Her eyebrows rose.

  Niniane picked up her plate of food and handed it to the other woman. “I just nibbled around the edges. Mr. Incredible served me enough food to last a week. Finish that while I make us some coffee.”

  “You’re the coolest princess I’ve ever met,” Cameron said.

  She filled a metal pot with water and set it on the brazier to boil. Then Rune and Aryal took their leave to wash and change into clean clothes and, as Rune said, prepare for mass consternation and misbehavior. They each gave Niniane a hard hug. “See you at the other end,” said Rune.

  “Be careful,” she told him.

  “You too, pip-squeak.” He smiled and touched her nose.

  When it was her turn to say good-bye, Aryal said, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Niniane opened and closed her mouth. She said, “I have no idea how to respond to that.”

  “Yeah, well.” Aryal’s hug lifted her off her feet. Then the harpy followed Rune out.

  The water in the pot boiled. She set about the comforting, familiar routine of making coffee while Cameron ate everything left on the plate. Niniane tried to drink her coffee but it was too hot. She had a sense of time flashing by too fast as it raced toward an inevitable, deadly foreign place, like a curtain of water that spilled over a waterfall to shatter on jagged rocks. Her hands shook as she added cold water from a canteen to the steaming brew so she could drink the contents down.

  Cameron did the same with her coffee. As the other woman drained her cup, Durin said from outside the tent, “Your highness.”

  “Come in, Durin,” she said.

  He lifted the flap and looked in at them both, his expression grave. “It is time to leave.”

  “All right.” She stood, and Cameron grabbed her sword in its scabbard and shrugged into the shoulder harness.

  Dawn had come and gone. In the full light of morning the area sparkled with melting frost. The area stirred with restlessness. Niniane could hear the jingle of horse harnesses and raised voices coming from the troops’ area of the encampment. Durin stepped close so that Niniane was sandwiched between him and Cameron. He gestured to one side of her tent, opposite the direction of the troops. Cameron frowned, and Niniane looked at him in quick inquiry. “The troops are garnering a lot of attention from the others,” Durin said rapidly in a low-toned voice. “We thought it would be faster and quieter to take you out this way. We must move quickly now.”

  She nodded and turned in the direction he indicated. Cameron put a hand to Niniane’s back and turned with her, and Niniane felt the other woman’s hand clench in a fist in the material of her sweater. Cameron threw her hard.

  Wait, what?

  Niniane stumbled forward, trying in vain to correct her balance as she bounced off the taut material of the tent wall. Then she reached the dipping point and fell forward. She tucked her shoulder as she had been taught, hit the ground and rolled. As she fell, she heard a ringing metallic noise that was the sound of swords clashing. Her mind still stuttering, she came up on her hands and knees. She spun around to look.

  Cameron and Durin were fighting. Cameron shifted to block the Dark Fae male’s sword thrust. Cameron’s movements were athletic and confident, but Durin moved with such deadly, accomplished style and grace, it was clear the human woman was hopelessly outmatched. Cameron said to her, “Run.”

  She jumped to her feet, staring as she backed up.

  An arm hooked around her neck, and she felt the cold, hard edge of a knife at her jugular. The blade bit into her skin. The sting came a moment later, and she felt the wet trickle of blood.

  “I might have known,” Naida said in her ear. “Nothing’s gone right since you crawled out of the woodwork.”

  Ah damn.

  Durin surged forward, his sword flashing in a complicated series of movements, and Cameron’s sword went flying. She spun and kicked, but he lunged forward, too close for her to land a proper blow. At the same time he reversed his hold on his sword and slammed the hilt into her jaw. Cameron dropped without a sound.

  “Keep your hands where I can see them.” The warmth of Naida’s breath tickled her ear. “I have no intention of letting you poison me like you did Geril and his friends.”

  She held her hands up. Naida turned her around and marched her rapidly toward the edge of camp. Durin fell into place beside them. He kept his sword unsheathed as he looked around them with sharp eyes. She gritted, “I can’t believe nobody is seeing this.”

  “They’re all arguing and watching the soldiers prepare to leave,” Naida said. Within moments they reached the edge of the clearing, and Naida forced her to move faster until they were running. Naida said to Durin, “What is taking so long?”

  “Ryle can’t get to the Chancellor,” the captain said. “The Wyr bitch is watching him too closely.”

  Who was Ryle? Not one of the soldiers. One of Naida and Aubrey’s attendants? Niniane’s gaze slid sideways to Durin. The Dark Fae male’s face was bleak.

  I have killed someone I liked before, Carling had said. I have killed someone and felt regret.

  “You did it,” she said to him. “You killed Arethusa. She was your commanding officer. She trusted you, and you killed her. How could you?”

  Durin’s red-rimmed gaze flashed to her, then he looked away.

  “He did it for the greater good,” Naida said. They came to four tethered horses that were bridled but not saddled. Naida jerked Niniane to a halt. “Keep your hands up.” She said to Durin, “Search her for weapons.”

  Durin sheathed his sword and ran his hands over Niniane. He was as fast and expert in searching her as he was in doing everything el
se. She sighed as he took her stilettos from her pocket. He tucked the small sheathed knives inside his shirt. When she was disarmed Durin tied her hands behind her back with a strip of leather as she looked at Naida for the first time.

  Naida’s sophisticated, immaculate appearance was gone. Her sturdy travel clothes looked rumpled. She carried a leather pack slung on one shoulder. She looked exhausted, and her usually sleek hair was tousled. Lines of stress marked her pale skin. Well, good. She ought to look like shit.

  Niniane said between her teeth, “I’m a little surprised you’re going to all this trouble. Why haven’t you already killed me?”

  “I wish you’d died on the first attempt, but things are no longer that simple. Actually I wish you’d never resurfaced,” said Naida. Her indifferent gaze flicked over Niniane’s figure, then she looked away. “You should have stayed in the past, along with the rest of your family. It’s not enough to just kill you. We also need to survive so we can put my husband on the throne where he belongs.”

  The utter callousness in Naida’s voice made Niniane’s breath catch. Durin had tied her hands so tight she was rapidly losing feeling in her fingers. She twisted her wrists in an attempt to reach the knots, but she couldn’t. But the binding was leather. Sooner or later, it would have to stretch. She worked her wrists back and forth.

  Two of the horses had saddlebags slung on their backs. Why weren’t they saddled? She was willing to bet there hadn’t been time. Naida, Durin, Aubrey, Ryle and whoever else was working with them were reacting to the moment. Did they really think they had a chance of getting away free and clear from any pursuers?

  She said, “This is not going to go the way you think it will.”

  “Do you think not?” Naida shook her head. “We must improvise with the tools we find in front of us.”

  She watched as Naida knelt and put her pack on the ground. “Naida, listen to me,” she said. “This has spun too far out of control. There are too many people involved. There are Carling and the other vampires, Kellen, Tiago and the sentinels, let alone the rest of the troops. They are never going to forgive or forget what Durin did to Arethusa.”