Chapter 23

 

 

I GRINNED INTO the wind like a maniac for a few minutes, adrenaline still coursing through me from the narrow escape and the sensation of flight. The raven’s powerful muscles flexed under my legs, settling into a rhythm as it traced a straight line away from the palace. After a half mile or so, it struck me that I had no idea what it planned to do with me.

“The nearest doorway would be super,” I said, just in case the raven might understand.

Its sleek head twitched to the side at the sound of my voice, but it didn’t change course.

We soared over forest and low rolling hills until the palace was miles behind. Then the beating of the raven’s wings began to slow. The right one tipped gracefully downward, and the bird began to spiral toward the ground. It alighted in the middle of what appeared to be a circle of large and crumbling stones, but once I slid off the bird and truly looked around, I realized it was an ancient ruin. Runes carved into some of the stones were visible only by the moss that grew into the indentations.

There was an arch to my right. That was my way out.

I looked up at the great bird. It shook, its night-dark feathers shivering with the movement. With a tilt of its head, it peered at me with one great eye.

“Thank you for ferrying me to safety,” I said gravely.

I wasn’t sure if the words would bind me in promise to the creature, but if they did, I was okay with it. But there was no shiver of magic in the air. Regardless, the raven—and its golden-eyed master—had done me a great service.

I jogged over to the doorway, and as I stood tracing the sigils in the air, the raven took flight and soared over me.

I stepped into the void of the netherwhere and then emerged at a doorway just outside the stone fortress. I’d never been so grateful to be back in New Garg territory. Vincenzo was still parked there. I secured the box in the bin strapped behind the scooter’s seat, and when I started up the engine, it felt like it had been weeks since I’d last been on my scooter.

Cursing the doorway configuration that wouldn’t allow me to jump straight back home to Boise, I had to ride through the cold San Francisco drizzle to the doorway at Crossen Hall. The doorways within Faerie all connected to each other, but on the Earthly side of the hedge, the networks weren’t so complete and interconnected. The restrictions sometimes made me feel as if it’d be faster to catch commercial flights. Not that I could afford air travel.

The miserable, cold ride passed in a blur. It was going to be a sprint to get Van Zant—or what was left of him—turned in for the bounty, and I had to push my speed and weave through traffic. By the time I made it back to Boise, I was stiff and travel-fatigued. The day was hot there, and when I pulled into the Guild parking lot, my hair was mostly dry and my clothes were no longer dripping.

I shoved Van Zant’s box under my arm, pushed through the Guild’s double-doors, and stalked through the corridors. People took one look at my face and scooted out of my way when they saw me coming.

When I reached Gus’s office, I found the door cracked open. Not bothering to knock, I pushed inside, went up to his desk, and plopped the box on the open file folders he was shuffling around. His bloodshot eyes widened at the box and then shifted up to me.

I pulled out my phone to check the time. “Fourteen minutes to spare.”

He pulled his chin back, making his double chin into a triple chin, and slanted a glance at the box I carried. “He’s dead, I take it.”

I looked down at the box. “Yup.”

“You kill him?”

“Nope.”

Gus sighed noisily through his nose. “Either way, the payout is only—”

“Ten percent,” I cut in. “I know, I know.”

I pushed my stiff hair off my forehead while he rummaged around on his desk for a tablet. He handed it to me so I could fill out the job info and sign for the completion of the assignment.

“When will the payment go into my account?” I asked as I worked my way through the forms.

“We’ll have to verify this is him.” Gus tapped his pen on the top of the box. “Guild rules. Can’t be filing false catches.”

I silently cursed. “And how long will that take?”

“Couple of weeks, if the lab mages aren’t backed up.”

I let my head fall back. The lab was always backed up.

Once I exited the Guild headquarters, my phone vibrated in its pouch on my scabbard.

I pulled it out, quickly flipped through my new assignment, and then let out a groan. It wasn’t a live catch—it was for the recovery of an object. Some piece of jewelry, but it didn’t really matter. Object recoveries were nearly always in a lower payout category than apprehensions of people. The payout wouldn’t even cover my half of the utilities for a month. But what really stung was that it was such a low-importance job. I wanted to be hunting vamps, not tracking down Grandma’s charmed locket that had most likely been swiped and pawned by hard-up Uncle Loser.

I blew out a long breath through pursed lips. I was being punished for needing an extension and then failing to bring in a live mark.

Silently fuming, I went back out into the sunshine and revved up Vincenzo. One of the reasons I’d moved from the San Francisco Bay Area to Idaho was for the lower cost of living. The area was also a hotbed of supernatural beings and activity, and one of the Guild’s largest offices was located in Boise. I figured between those things I was giving myself the best chance possible at surviving independently outside the stone fortress.

But it seemed it was all going to shit. Lochlyn and I had maybe a couple of weeks at best, if we could manage to dodge our landlord for that long. Oliver would probably help if he could, but I already knew he didn’t have money. Human currency wasn’t much use in Faerie, and those who lived permanently on the other side of the hedge typically didn’t accumulate monetary wealth. Each kingdom, or order in the case of New Gargs, had its own industries, but the money didn’t trickle down much in the semi-feudal system of Faerie. It didn’t really matter—I was too damn stubborn to ask for help, anyway.

I was halfway home when my phone vibrated against my chest. I pulled it out at a stoplight and saw Maxen’s name on the caller ID. It was a voice message from a call I must have missed while en route.

“Petra, we need you back at the fortress right away. The Duergar are making more trouble. We’ve got a new situation on our hands, and it involves you. I’m going to keep calling until I get you.”

That was it. I swore under my breath. Would it have killed him to give a little more detail?

My phone rang as I was staring down at it in irritation. Maxen again.

“Where are you?” he demanded, uncharacteristically terse.

“In Boise, just wrapping up my assignment. Marisol gave me until this afternoon to get back,” I said. “What’s the emergency?”

“Periclase has really decided to kick up some shit.” Maxen rarely swore.

“What variety of shit?”

“It’s better if we don’t discuss it over the phone,” he said.

He must have been paranoid about Unseelie spies bugging our conversation.

“Can I at least stop by home for a change of clothes?” I asked.

“We’ll get anything you need here,” he said. The phone sounded like it jostled a little on his end, I could hear someone trying to speak to him in the background. “I need to go.”

“Wait, did Emmaline make it back okay?” I asked.

“She’s here. Come back now, and find me when you arrive.”

The call went dead.

I steered around, changing course and heading back to the doorway in the parking garage that would return me to the San Francisco Bay Area. I was really starting to feel like a long- distance commuter.

On the way, I tried Lochlyn.

“Are you at home?” I asked when she picked up.

“Yeah. There were like four nasty notes on our door,” she said.

“Then you’re not going to like what I have to tell you.” I explained what happened with Van Zant and how the payout wasn’t just crap, but also delayed.

She groaned. “I’ll see what I can scrape together, but I’m basically tapped out unless I find another job, like, tonight.”

“I know,” I said. “And you already loaned me money, so this isn’t on you. We’ll figure it out.”

We hung up, and I tucked my phone back in its pouch.

By the time I pulled up to the stone fortress, it was mid-afternoon and some of the marine layer had burned off. It’d been a dry ride from Treasure Island, thank Oberon for small favors.

I parked Vincenzo and trudged into the Stone Order’s headquarters.

In the lobby, pages were scurrying around. I recognized a few of the diplomats who’d gone with Maxen to the Duergar palace. They all looked harried and tense. The entire atmosphere of the place made me want to turn around and leave.

Emmaline rushed up to me. “You’re here, thank the Old Ones. I’ll take you to Maxen.”

“Hey, Emmaline,” I said mildly, trying to counteract the stress that seemed to hang in the air. “How’d you escape the Duergar?”

She slid me a sideways glance of her lavender eyes, and her lips twitched in a near-grin. “I have a pretty good memory for the passages in the palace. I used a couple of them the guards didn’t know about and then ran out to the doorway in the forest where our diplomatic party came in before. Sorry I disappeared like that. I figured it would be easier that way, seeing as how I didn’t have a weapon.”

I nodded my approval. “That was the right decision. I knew you’d manage. We need to get you armed next time we have that kind of adventure, though.”

She looked very pleased at that suggestion, but her expression quickly faded to one of serious focus.

“What’s got everyone running around like scared mice?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No one in the lower ranks knows the details. Something to do with the Duergar and a new petition to the High Court.”

“Petitions are usually public, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, but this one is sealed.”

My stomach dropped a couple of inches at that news.

“What are the possible sealed-petition scenarios?” I asked.

“It could be any number of things,” she said. “Sometimes the information is sensitive and has to be discussed behind closed doors first so as not to put someone in danger or tip someone off. It might not be the Duergar who requested the seal. The High Court can seal a petition at its discretion. Maybe they need to deliberate on it and don’t want to cause a stir in the meantime.”

It was too late for that. Judging by the faces and energy around me, things had already been stirred.

“It could also be that a challenge was issued,” Emmaline continued.

“Challenge? Like the old duels?”

Her brow knitted together. “Yeah. This is a conflict between a Seelie order and an Unseelie kingdom. In the Old World, Seelie-Unseelie disagreements were often settled with a fight between champions.”

“Surely they wouldn’t resort to something so arcane.”

She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “No idea.”

We were in one of the corridors that housed offices and rooms for official business. She gestured to an open doorway up ahead where two pages came hurrying out and then went in different directions.

“Maxen’s in there,” she said. “While you’re speaking with him, I’ll hunt down a change of clothes for you.”

She angled off down the hallway before I had a chance to respond.

I stepped into the room she’d indicated, expecting to find Maxen with his usual crowd of officials. Instead, it was just him with one assistant. As soon as he saw me, he dismissed the page and asked her to close the door as she left.

Weariness fought with apprehension, dragging at my muscles but at the same time infusing me with jittery adrenaline. Reining in the nervous energy, I lifted my scabbard over my head and set it down on the conference table that stood between us and rolled my stiff shoulders.

“What’s going on, Maxen?” I asked quietly.

His sapphire eyes were unblinking and red-rimmed with fatigue.

“Periclase is livid about Nicole,” he said. His chest rose as he drew a deep breath. “Taking her seems to have become the spark to the dry tinder of unrest between the Stone Order and the Duergar kingdom.”

I folded my arms. “Do you know what’s in the latest petition?”

He nodded. “They’re asking for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Periclase is demanding you be turned over to the Duergar for whatever punishment they deem fit.”

I scoffed. “They can’t do that! Nicole is part New Gargoyle. She has just as much a right to be here as there, if she even is Periclase’s daughter at all.”

“So far, we can’t prove she’s New Garg. But as Periclase’s petition points out, she does have clear Duergar features, even if they’re not ones that make it obvious she’s his blood.”

I hadn’t been looking for Duergar features in her face. She certainly wasn’t built like them. But a case could probably be made for what Periclase claimed.

“So now what?”

“We have a chance to counter the petition,” he said.

“Okay, so do it. Put in a counter-filing that says they’re full of shit.”

He walked around the table to stand in front of me, leaning one hip against the edge and crossing his arms in a partial imitation of my posture.

“Because their petition includes the claim that Nicole is Duergar royalty, this is very grave,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard my suggestion. “They’re saying we kidnapped a Duergar princess.”

“Um, again, he has no proof that Nicole is his daughter,” I said.

“They want to execute you. That’s the punishment they’ve put forth.”

“What?” I barked the word so harshly my voice cracked.

He held up a hand. “It’s very unlikely the High Court would see that as just. But that’s Periclase’s game, here. He’s requesting a punishment too severe for the crime, putting us in a position of countering with something lesser, but that doesn’t go too easy. He’s trying to back us into a corner so he gets you either way.”

I felt queasy. “You think he actually wants me dead?”

Maxen’s face screwed up, and then he shook his head. “I don’t think so. But he’s definitely calling you out. And he’s not going to let you get off easily.”

I pushed my fingers into my hair, suddenly remembering what Emmaline had mentioned. “What about a challenge of champions? Me against their champion?”

His eyes went huge. “Petra, a challenge of champions is a battle to the death. Besides, you aren’t the official champion of the Stone Order.”

“Who is? Do we even have one?”

“It’s Oliver.”

Duh, of course. “Oh, yeah. I knew that.”

“But that’s beside the point,” Maxen said. “We couldn’t put you in that kind of position.”

“Why not?” I asked. “Periclase is demanding my head, even if he doesn’t truly want it, and he wants me to answer for my supposed transgression.”

Maxen just looked at me, his lips pressed into a tight white line.

I gave a little shrug. “I can take whoever Periclase puts up against me. Duergar are tough, but New Gargs are better swordsmen. Hell, you could probably kick their champion’s ass, and you’re out of practice.”

A ghost of a smile passed over his face.

“Besides, Oberon can step in, end the duel, and declare a winner before anyone dies,” I said, starting to dredge up bits of knowledge from my long-ago history lessons. “Isn’t that what happened with the last dozen-odd challenges?”

“It is,” Maxen conceded. “But that doesn’t mean he’d do it this time.”

“Doesn’t matter, then. I’ll just kill my opponent.”

His eyes dropped to the floor before raising to meet mine. “I don’t like that you even suggested this,” he said, his voice soft.

“Why?”

“Because it might actually be the best counter-petition, and it could end in you losing your life.”

“But it won’t,” I said. “How long can you stall before filing the counter?”

“We have twenty-four hours to answer.”

“Can you put a stipulation in there that if we win the challenge they have to drop their other appeal about trying to absorb the Stone Order into their kingdom?”

His brows lifted. “I’ll have to look into it, but that’s a great strategy. We might just make a politician out of you yet.”

I snorted. “Oh, hell no. Don’t get greedy, Maxen. Okay. Here’s what we do. Find every way possible to delay the process. I’ll use the time to train here at the fortress, make sure I’m totally brushed up on all my moves, and do everything available to make sure my stone armor is as strong as possible. Then we do the challenge, win it, and get the Duergar assholes off our backs.”

“I’ll talk to Marisol,” he said. “But understand that she might not go for it, and the final decision is hers.”

“Hey, if she has a better idea, I’m all ears,” I said, spreading my arms wide.

“I’m going to find her now,” he said, already heading for the door. Before opening it, he paused and turned. “Petra . . .”

The look he gave me was so raw, my breath stilled. I saw many things in his eyes—admiration, gratitude, a little fear, and that small spark that had always burned, but that I’d always brushed away.

I waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

He gave me a slight smile and left. A moment later, Emmaline entered.

She stopped short when she saw my face. “Are you okay?”

I slowly filled my lungs and gave her a nod. “Yeah, just fine.”

And I realized with a calm sense of knowing that it was true. I wanted to face the Duergar champion. I wanted the chance to get Periclase off my back and show him he couldn’t push us around anymore. Us. Maybe my connection to my people ran stronger than I’d thought.

“New clothes are in your quarters,” she said. “I ordered food, too.”

When I arrived in my apartment, it was empty, but there were signs of Nicole—sweatshirt thrown over the back of the sofa, half a glass of water on the counter, and an extra toothbrush next to the bathroom sink. I quickly showered and then put on the clothes Emmaline had dug up, which were admirably similar to the outfit I’d shed. She had a good sense for details.

The food she’d ordered had just arrived, and I was about to dig into a bowl of pasta when there was a knock at the door.

I opened it, and Oliver stormed in, barging past me before whirling around. My eyes popped wide. I’d never seen him look so worked up.

He flipped his hand and glanced at the door, indicating I should close it. Swallowing hard, I turned to my father.