Chapter 6

I PEERED AT him out of the corners of my eyes, at first thinking it must be a joke. Then I remembered I’d never heard Oliver tell a joke in my life.

Still, I waited for a moment on the off chance there might be a punch line coming.

After several seconds of silence, I blinked. “Come again?”

“She was placed as a baby right after the two of you were born. She’s your twin.”

My arms were crossed over my chest but suddenly seemed to lose the tension necessary to hold them there. My hands slipped down to my sides as I stared at my father.

I shook my head. “I have a twin?” I blinked again.

“Marisol knows of the changeling, but not that she’s your sister,” he said.

My brows rose halfway up my forehead.

He looked off to the side, his jaw muscles flexing and releasing, flexing and releasing. He looked uncomfortable. That made me twitchy. I preferred stoic Oliver.

“I swore to your mother that I’d keep her secret, and the only loophole was if there came a time one of you was in danger,” he said finally. He heaved a sigh, and just when I thought he was going to refuse to say more, he continued. “Right after the Cataclysm, Marisol had a prophetic vision. She saw herself ruling a Fae kingdom, her throne built upon the bloodied bodies of a set of New Gargoyle twin girls who were conceived exactly a year after the Cataclysm. One was fair and the other dark haired. She named them the ‘sisters of sacrifice.’ Marisol told me of the prophecy, and I repeated it to your mother. I shouldn’t have broken Marisol’s confidence that way, but . . . I did. When your mother had you and Nicole, she panicked. She was sure the sisters in the vision were her daughters. I tried to tell her that sometimes visions are symbolic, not literal, but this one was too specific. Your mother was already quite unstable by then, and she nearly went mad with fear. She was mad for a time, threatening to kill one of you to keep Marisol from killing both of you. I convinced her to let me hide Nicole.”

A soft breeze could have knocked me over. I’d never heard Oliver speak so many words at once. I’d never heard him admit to a mistake in judgment. I’d never, ever considered that I had a sibling somewhere out there. What in the name of Oberon was happening to the world?

“But if I go get her, Marisol will find out,” I said.

“You’re not identical,” Oliver said. “And with care, we’ll be able to keep the secret. Just in case your mother’s concerns had any merit.”

I slowly shook my head. I really, really didn’t like that Oliver seemed to think there might actually be some stock in my mother’s mad fears for her daughters.

“Prophecies aren’t for certain,” he said. “And the Stone Order may never become the Stone Court. But if it does, I won’t take the chance.”

In theory, he was right. Generally speaking, prophecies didn’t always bear out. But all of Marisol’s prophecies—the ones that were made public, anyway—had come to pass. And as for the formation of the Stone Court, it was her sole obsession in life. If there was any possibility of making it happen, she would find a way. I didn’t doubt she’d do it at the cost of blood.

“Marisol is determined to get Nicole away from King Periclase,” he said. “Nicole is New Gargoyle, and Marisol won’t let a single New Garg slip through her fingers if she can help it. Besides, Nicole is our family.”

Family. Oliver had been my only family for my entire life.

“How did anyone even discover that Nicole is part New Garg?” I asked. “Her magic surely hasn’t come in yet.”

“Periclase had her blood divined,” Oliver said. “And Marisol acquired the information that Nicole has New Gargoyle blood.”

Blood divining was a special type of Fae magic. It didn’t tell you who your parents were, but it revealed the races that ran through your blood.

“I’m surprised Marisol doesn’t want to send you,” I said.

“I’m too high profile. Everyone knows I’m one of Marisol’s closest advisors, but I don’t go on diplomatic trips. My position is military, and it wouldn’t help discussions to send a high-ranking military man on a diplomatic mission. It would look aggressive.”

“But won’t it raise suspicion if I go? I’m not exactly the first on board when it comes to forwarding the interests of the Stone Order.” I knew it sounded cold, as if I were begrudging his request to go to the aid of my own blood, but that wasn’t it. I still had questions. And I really needed to know whether there was anything else Oliver was holding back. I had the uneasy feeling that there was.

“I wanted you to go,” he said. “I suggested you.”

I regarded him for a moment. This was his daughter we were talking about. I could understand why he wanted to send me after her. If he couldn’t go himself, I was the next best thing.

“Does King Periclase know who Nicole is? He couldn’t, I guess.”

“I can’t imagine he does.”

My brow furrowed with sudden worry. “But I’ll have to bring her here to the fortress. She’ll be right under Marisol’s nose. Doesn’t that seem, I don’t know, dangerous in light of that bloody-ass prophecy?”

I felt itchy. Edgy. Like I needed to sprint a mile or punch something. I wasn’t good with big revelations that had the potential to jump-kick me right in the emotions.

Oliver’s mouth twitched, a subtle sign I’d said something that amused him.

“Aren’t you full of questions,” he said mildly. “Yes, we’ll have to put her up here. We can’t let her go back to the Earthly realm. Periclase will just take her again. The fortress will be her home for now. Hopefully for the long term. She is, after all, as much New Gargoyle as you are. We can’t abandon her to Periclase.”

The word “abandon” sent a pang through my heart. New Gargs were protective of our own because there weren’t a whole lot of us.

“We can’t let that happen.” I pressed my lips together and then blew out a slow breath. “I can’t imagine what’s going through her mind right now.”

“She was raised by humans with magical aptitude, but having been on the Earthly side of the hedge her entire life, she won’t even know she has her own magic.”

Changelings’ magic was always suppressed, on account of not having spent their childhood in Faerie. Since Nicole was here, things were probably starting to get very weird for her.

I shoved my fingers into my dark hair, pushing it back from my face.

“I’ll do it,” I said. I was still in the middle of my Guild assignment, but I’d just have to find a way to accomplish both missions. “But this doesn’t mean I’m quitting the Guild.”

He lowered his lids a fraction, an Oliver version of a withering look.

“Just join the damn battle ranks already, Petra.”

I took half a step backward toward the door, my mind on escape. I was starting to have flashbacks to the epic power struggles we’d fought when I was a teenager. I’d been kind of a rebellious little asshole. Even though I was now twenty-seven, we sometimes still slipped back into those roles, and I wasn’t in the mood to replay those days. I edged a little closer to the exit.

He shifted his weight, his stance easing slightly.

“Wait,” he said. “You’re going to need some help getting in and out of Periclase’s palace.”

I halted my getaway. “You’ve got a plan in mind?”

“Maxen is taking a group of dignitaries to the Duergar kingdom. He was already scheduled to go on a week-long ambassadorial visit. Due to arrive there tomorrow night.”

My eyes popped wide. “Wait, Maxen knows about Nicole?”

“No, Marisol hasn’t told him yet. She will before he leaves, but she doesn’t want him involved in any way.” His gray-green eyes grew more serious. “I know you know this, but I’m going to say it anyway. You must take care, Petra. You’ll be in the kingdom of a potential enemy, and an Unseelie territory at that. The Unseelie can be ruthless in ways others aren’t.”

“Right. Get the girl and sneak her out without pissing off anyone or starting a war. And do it all around my day job.”

Oliver gave a low chuckle. “Smart ass. Oh, and don’t forget that you can’t reveal Nicole’s true identity to Maxen.”

It was going to be a fricking mine field, and he knew it. But Oliver wouldn’t send me in if he didn’t believe I could pull it off. An eager little part of me was already getting psyched at the challenge—another quirk of the father-daughter dynamic. No matter how hard I might have railed against his authority when I was a kid, there was—and still remained—a desire for his approval that seemed threaded through my DNA. I’d spent my childhood trying to fight it, but at some point in the past few years, I’d finally accepted that it wasn’t going away.

Ah, family.

Speaking of, my known blood relations had just doubled. Somewhere out there in King Periclase’s kingdom, I had a sister.

A little surge of anticipation spurred me through the fortress in search of Maxen. I spotted an Order page, identifiable by her blue vest, and jogged to catch up with her.

“I need to find Maxen,” I said to the startled girl. “Official business, Oliver Maguire’s orders.”

She blinked a couple of times and then tapped the tablet on top of the folders she carried. Cell phones didn’t work in Fae, but electronics had become fundamental tools in the kingdoms decades ago. The only snag was that there was no Wi-Fi. Like cell phone signals, it didn’t work on this side of the hedge. Tablets had to be frequently plugged into the fortress’s hard-wired lines to update data, and there were ports all around the building.

“Mr. Lothlorien’s schedule, current as of an hour ago, says he’s in training right now,” she said.

I nearly shuddered. I couldn’t imagine a life where dozens of people knew where I was and what I was doing from one hour to the next.

I nodded and continued through the hallways of the fortress toward the training yard. I passed more pages, advisors, and people performing more menial tasks such as cleaning and moving supplies around. New Gargoyles were built for fighting, but it didn’t mean that all of them wanted to pursue the training necessary to become skilled at it.

I reached the workout room, an open-concept modern gym outfitted with weights and treadmills. I waved at a few New Gargs I’d trained with when I was younger but didn’t stop to chat. On the other side of the gym, wide glass double-doors led to the training yard, where trainees and full members of the battle ranks worked with weapons of all kinds and practiced hand-to-hand combat.

Some of the instructors were younger than me. I’d had many teachers, but the most significant was my father, though he’d never officially been an Order instructor. He was the one who’d taught me that my smaller size could be an advantage. He’d also trained me in the mental discipline of pain tolerance. People would make assumptions when they saw me, about my strength and abilities. Others wouldn’t expect a small female to be mentally tough. He made me see that with the right training and hard work, I could be a match for any opponent. Under his guidance, I’d transformed from a scrappy little New Garg girl who just wanted to swing swords around into a formidable fighter who could best nearly anyone in the fortress.

I spotted Maxen training with a short sword. A V of sweat on the back of his gray t-shirt showed he was well into his workout. He and his partner both had their rock armor fully activated and were going full intensity at each other using real weapons. When it came to strength, New Gargoyles reigned above the other Fae races. The Spriggans were the only other race that came close in terms of physical stature and strength, but they didn’t have our stone armor and as a race didn’t tend to put much stock in battle training because they formed one of the smaller kingdoms. If a larger kingdom really wanted to take the Spriggan by force, it wouldn’t be that hard simply due to numbers.

I watched appreciatively as Maxen and his sparring partner, a guy named Shane who’d graduated a few years after us, slashed and jabbed at each other, each of their weapons engulfed in their respective wielders’ magic. Maxen’s was like deep indigo smoke dancing around his arm and sword. His brow was lined with concentration, his teeth gritted.

I felt a zip of recognition across my back, Mort waking up in the proximity of other weapons. My hand itched to grab my broadsword and a partner. While I appreciated the sheer strength Maxen and his opponent displayed, I was much quicker than the full-bloods, and I loved fighting them. Skilled quickness beat brute strength nine times out of ten. At least, when it was my quickness in the fight.

Two short beeps sounded, and Maxen and Shane lowered their swords, let their rock armor dissolve, and went to the towels and jars of water they’d left near where I was standing.

Maxen caught sight of me, and the tension of the fight eased from his face, replaced by a boyish grin.

“Hey, Petra. You next?” He playfully tossed his short sword from one hand to the other and assumed an exaggerated fencing pose.

“With you already tuckered out? Nah, I’d probably hurt you. I’ll fight you when you’re fresh, Lothlorien.”

“So, you just wanted to watch me, then,” he said.

I rolled my eyes and shot Shane a long-suffering look. I’d sparred with him plenty of times growing up. I’d always envied the fact that he could fight equally well with either hand. True ambidexterity was rare. He gave a good-natured smile, nodded, and walked off toward the locker room with his towel draped around his neck.

“Got a minute?” I asked when Shane was out of earshot.

“For you? I’ve got five.” Maxen’s tone was teasing, but his eyes had sharpened with interest.

“I need to get into the Duergar Court, and I know you’ve got official business there,” I said.

He peered at me out of the corners of his eyes. “Work?”

“Sort of.” I glanced around, considering how much to say. Remembering the urgency in Oliver’s eyes, I decided to keep as much to myself as possible. Channeling my more seductive alter ego, Penelope, I leaned in and flicked my eyes down to Maxen’s lips before giving him a direct, unblinking look. “So, think you can get me in? C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

He tipped his head back and let out a short laugh. Merriment danced in his sapphire eyes. “Considering your little tirade at King Sebastian, I have serious doubts about taking you on a diplomatic trip.”

“Yeah, I probably went a bit too far.” I tilted my head to one side. “But then the assassins showed up. You can’t tell me that wasn’t fun.”

“Adrenaline junkie,” he accused, but he was grinning.

I knew I had him.

“You leave tomorrow night, right?” I asked. “What time should I come back here?”

“Noon tomorrow,” he said.

“Isn’t that a little early for an evening arrival?”

He gave me a droll look from under his brows. “You don’t just saunter through a doorway into another Fae palace. There are preparations. Pageantry. Protocol.”

I tried not to grimace. “That’s a lot of P words. Okay, noon it is. See you then.”

I didn’t even make it a full step.

“Petra.”

“What?” I asked innocently.

“You haven’t told me why you need to go to the Duergar court.”

I bit my lip for a second. I had to tell him something. Besides, Marisol would inform him soon, anyway. “Periclase is holding a New Garg changeling against her will. I need to get her out.”

He regarded me for a long moment. I could see the confusion on his face. Marisol hadn’t told him about Nicole yet. Part of me wanted to tell him that Nicole was my sister, but I remembered Oliver’s warning. My mother had apparently feared for my life and Nicole’s life at the hands of Marisol. I trusted Maxen, but if Oliver didn’t want Marisol to know about my twin, he certainly wouldn’t want Maxen to know.

“Periclase is holding a New Garg changeling,” he repeated.

I reached up to rub at the back of my neck. I really wished Marisol would have briefed him already. “Yeah. I just found out.”

“Why you?”

I shrugged. “You’d have to ask Oliver,” I said, skirting around the real reason. Fae can’t lie to each other, but we can be evasive.

“Okay,” he said finally.

I flipped my braid over my shoulder and let out a quiet breath of relief.

He pulled his sweaty t-shirt up and over his head and then balled it up in his hands and used it to wipe his forehead. “But this isn’t going to come for free.”

My gaze slid from his muscled shoulders and down across his chest to his cut abs. Just because I wasn’t interested in Maxen’s overtures didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate what he had to offer.

I nodded once and then turned and strode away. Even that little acknowledgement was too close to agreeing that I’d owe him a favor. I needed to get out before I accidentally said something more binding.

A glance at the clock in the training yard told me that Order business had already eaten up a good portion of my work day. I still had to find that drug-dealing vamp, Van Zant.