Chapter Forty-eight

“What’s going on?” I asked Burbles, because he’d stuck himself to my side like a charming burr.

“The consul has formally noticed you,” he told me, brown eyes gleaming. “Even better, she came to you. It is a great honor. For you and the entire house!” He was literally quivering with joy.

I started to explain that I could give a shit, and just wanted to know where we were going. But another look at his face, and I gave up. Let the damned vampire be happy for five minutes. It wouldn’t last.

Not around here.

Instead, I hurried, as much as I could in what I now saw were embroidered slippers. They matched the robe, the background a deep blue velvet that was almost invisible because it was so heavily encrusted with embroidered fruits and flowers and ribbons and bows. And gold insects, their minuscule wings raised above the rest and fluttering, fluttering, fluttering.

Like my horde of vamps, who appeared almost as awestruck as Burbles—why, I didn’t know.

The bitch wanted something.

I mean, come on.

But nobody was telling me what, so down the hall we went, and one nice thing about my suddenly acquired entourage was that they took no prisoners. Get in the way of the Dory train? Screw you, here’s a wall. Stop in the middle of the hall to stare at the consul and the crazy dhampir coming atcha? Wow, bet that hurt.

Not that I saw my guys actually shove anyone, unlike Her Highness’ up there, who seemed to view it as a sport. But elbows and feet can be so careless, can’t they? And this train was on a roll.

We covered a lot of ground, winding like a centipede through a warren of hallways and crossways, this-ways and that-ways. Until my head was spinning and I didn’t have any idea where we were. But I guess the boys did, because the fluttering suddenly intensified, and then we were spilling out of a tight passageway into a huge, sunny room.

It actually wasn’t sunny, of course, but it gave that impression. It was big, with high ceilings and chandeliers that rivaled Radu’s, and a nice, soft yellow paint job. There were coordinating draperies over faux windows that didn’t exist because vamps hate windows, and mirrors to reflect the light around, and a lot of healthy-looking plants spilling over their containers onto gleaming white-and-yellow-veined marble floors.

The flora wasn’t so much a surprise after I spotted Caedmon, over by a wall, arguing with Louis-Cesare.

I couldn’t see them very well because the consul’s huge guards had stopped in front of me, making a very serviceable wall. One that towered almost two feet above my head, which one of my entourage was still trying to comb out. I pushed him away, and peered through a gap in the wall at the action, the sound of which floated clearly across the room, because the acoustics in here were pretty great.

And because neither man was bothering to lower his voice.

“—could have been anyone!” Caedmon was saying. “There are other vargar—”

“Who would have reason to hurt the consul?”

“Yes, in fact!” Caedmon’s voice snapped like a whip. “Or have you forgotten that my dear brother-in-law just tried to kill her two weeks ago—along with the rest of her court?”

“And now his wife is here to finish the job.”

Caedmon made an explosive sound of mingled anger and disgust. “My sister came to warn you of her husband’s intent, else he likely would have succeeded! Yet now she turns around and tries to kill the queen herself? Are you mad?”

Louis-Cesare glared at him. “Non, m’sieur, nor am I stupid. Everyone knows your sister wants her son on the throne instead of her husband—”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“—and coups begin with discrediting the former leader, do they not? Had Aeslinn’s attack on this senate succeeded, his stock would be high—too high for her to successfully supplant him. But with him discredited and a stockpile of these superweapons at her command—”

“You are mad.”

“—she could dislodge him and put her son in his place—”

“And promptly lose the war, having just crippled the Senate! She is not insane, vampire!”

“I agree, m’sieur.” Louis-Cesare was doing his haughty Frenchman routine, and he did it well. He was six foot four, but Caedmon still had something like eight inches on him. Yet he somehow managed to look down his nose at him anyway. “She is not insane. She is diabolique. Murdering the consul would throw the Senate into disarray, leaving her time to carry out her coup without having to worry about our invasion—”

“And afterward? She doesn’t want the gods back any more than we do!”

“Even more of a reason to overthrow her husband, then. He is the one trying to bring them back, is he not?”

“Among others! He is hardly the only true believer, and if you continue to attack highborn fey, you’re only going to add to their numbers! You understand nothing of the situation in Faerie—”

“And why is that? We ask you for information, and you refuse it—”

“Perhaps I don’t trust you—imagine that!” Caedmon’s eyes widened in pretend surprise.

Louis-Cesare’s narrowed. “We are supposed to be allies, yet you tell us nothing and now your sister has tried to kill our consul—”

Caedmon was looking genuinely angry now. “For the last time, she had nothing to do with it!”

“Yet Lord Mircea saw evil intent, quite clearly, in her mind—”

“Where he had no reason to be! She isn’t one of your creatures, vampire!”

“He had every reason, and do not change the subject—”

“I’ll pursue any subject I damned well please. Or I would, but we are leaving your hospitality.”

The last word had another of those inflections, one that made it sound like he’d said something else altogether. Something that started with f and ended with u, which made it really weird that Louis-Cesare was smiling at him.

It wasn’t a nice smile, but still.

“You may go,” Louis-Cesare said. “She cannot. She has been formally accused.”

“You have no right to judge her!”

“On the contrary, the treaty clearly states—”

“That you need two witnesses, and at senatorial level, for one of her rank! You have one, and his motive can easily be called into question.”

For the first time, Louis-Cesare looked confused. “What motive?”

Caedmon’s own sneer was actually pretty good, if a bit worrisome. Usually he was Mr. Calm-and-Collected while the rest of us went to pieces, but not now. “Lord Mircea brings suit against my sister, and then graciously offers to drop the charges in return for me dropping my claim to his daughter. I know how such games are played, vampire, and better than you.”

“You are accusing Lord Mircea of lying?”

And, uh-oh. Louis-Cesare’s voice had just gone very quiet, which was usually the prelude to letting his rapier do the talking. But he was injured, and Caedmon was . . . Caedmon . . . and there’d been enough bloodshed tonight. I started trying to forge a path between the guards, who weren’t budging.

“All packed, then?” That was the consul, suddenly moving forward on her own, without her guards, but with a creepy smile on her face. I couldn’t see it, being behind her, but Caedmon’s reaction was eloquent.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your sister. You did say she was leaving us?”

“I—yes. We both are. I’ll be taking her with me.”

“Very well. I should like to wish her a safe journey. If she is available?”

“I . . . will go and check.”

Someone touched my shoulder, and I looked around to find Mircea standing behind me. He pulled me over beside some yellow-and-white-striped chairs, but we didn’t sit down. He put a hand on my cheek and looked into my eyes like he was trying to see something behind them.

Or someone.

“Are you all right?”

“She’s not here,” I said irritably.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m fine. What’s going on?”

“It’s . . . complicated.”

It usually was around here. I decided to cut to the chase. “Am I free to go? Or are they planning to pull out some fingernails first?”

A small frown appeared on the otherwise unlined forehead. “You helped the consul, possibly saved her life. If you hadn’t realized that thing was riding her, and disrupted its concentration—”

“I also got a blade in her. How long has it been since that happened?”

Mircea’s lips quirked. “Some time, I believe. But it was preferable to the alternative.”

“So I’m free to go?”

“In a moment.”

Why did I know he was going to say that?

“First I wish to hear about Dorina. You said she was talking to you. Has she done that before?”

“Not directly.”

“Meaning?” It was sharp.

“Meaning, usually she just sends me these weird dreams—”

“What kind of dreams?”

I rubbed my eyes, and suppressed a yawn. I kept getting sleep, but not enough. Possibly because I was constantly being woken up in the middle of it. “More like memories. Your memories, mostly. She was hitching a ride on you a lot while growing up—did you know?”

He grimaced. “Eventually. I would have preferred to realize it before I spent quite so many nights in dissolute company.”

“And in dissolute beds?”

He raised an eyebrow. “More like playing cards in rough taverns. Sometimes I wonder what you think of me.”

So did I. But he’d been doing the good-father routine in the stuff Dorina had showed me, fighting to keep her—us—safe, and putting himself in danger to do it. I was about to ask how he’d got off that damned death boat, and if it was Dorina whose voice he’d heard, but I didn’t get the chance.

“What has she shown you?” It was idle—too much so. Mircea and I don’t make a lot of small talk.

“Why? What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing. But if you want to know about those days, you have only to ask. I could tell you—”

“But it would be from your perspective, wouldn’t it?”

He didn’t say anything, and his face—of course—gave nothing away. But, somehow, I knew I was right. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re afraid of me seeing things through her eyes. Is that why you told her not to talk to me?”

“No.”

“Then why? Because it’s caused some damned problems, Mircea!”

“And could cause more, if you allow it to continue.”

His expression hadn’t changed, but his voice was clipped, the way it got when he was angry—or afraid. He didn’t process fear any better than I did; he just hid it better. We both had a tendency to lash out, to savage whatever was threatening us, even if that was each other. It had led to some truly spectacular fights in the past.

“I warned her to be careful,” he told me. “Now I am warning you. Give yourself time.”

“Assuming I have any.”

I’d spoken without thinking, because I was still half-asleep. But of course he picked up on it. And pulled me even farther away from the others—I didn’t know why. With the acoustics in here, and with most people’s hearing, we could be eavesdropped on from anywhere in the room.

Or maybe not.

“Explain,” he told me, but I was preoccupied, watching Burbles and the other guys suddenly start drifting this way.

“What are they doing?”

“Putting up a screen.”

“What?”

“Creating mental white noise.” Mircea’s voice was impatient. “No one will hear us.”

“No one but them.”

“They’re family.”

Maybe yours, I thought, watching Burbles flutter his fingers over a tray of hors d’oeuvres that was being passed around. “Are these fey?” he asked delightedly.

“Yes.” The blond fey holding the tray bent down a little, to provide better access, since he was tall enough to give Olfun a run for his money. And I suddenly understood why the consul had NBA-sized guards.

She was damned if anyone was going to tower over her people in her own house.

“Dory.” That was Mircea.

“I don’t know if I can explain,” I told him. “I don’t know what Dorina wants, since I haven’t been able to talk to her. But I’ve been getting mixed messages.”

“Such as?”

“On the one hand, she’s sending me dreams about that mission you were on back in Venice, to find the people murdering vampires for their bones. You remember?”

“Vividly.”

Yeah, I guessed so. “Anyway, I haven’t got the whole story, but I saw enough to realize that the same thing is happening now. Only with fey bones instead of vampire—”

“Yes, Kit told me what you said. So that’s how you knew what was in those weapons.”

“Partly. There were other clues, but I wouldn’t have made that connection without Dorina, and I think she sent it to me on purpose. Like she picked up something when we were at the fights a few days ago, and wanted me to know.”

“And the other?”

“What?”

“The other hand. I assume there’s also been a downside?”

“Yeah, well.” I thought about the last few days. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“So delicious,” Burbles was saying. “So, so good. What was that again?”

The fey waiter said a word I couldn’t pronounce.

“And what is that?”

“I do not know the equivalent in English. Stuffed . . . field mouse?”

Burbles turned slightly green.

“How exactly would you put it?” Mircea demanded.

I hesitated. I don’t claim any diplomatic abilities myself, but even I have limits. And telling somebody “There’s a chance your daughter might hate you and also me and has every reason to do so” is a bit much.

But as it turns out, I didn’t have to.

“I know what Dorina thinks of me,” Mircea said grimly. “I locked her away. It was meant to be temporary, until you stopped growing and caught up.”

“But it wasn’t,” I pointed out. “Why?”

The dark eyes glanced around the room, distracted—or disingenuous. “I’ve told you. I was afraid I couldn’t raise the wall again once it fell. If you weren’t compatible, and couldn’t live as one, I would lose you both.”

“As it was, you just lost her.”

“I didn’t lose her!” The dark eyes snapped back to me. “The situation wasn’t ideal, but as you’ve seen, she wasn’t trapped. Physically, yes, unless you were asleep or let your emotions get the better of you. But mentally she could go anywhere. Anywhere she could find an avatar, that is.”

“And you decided that was enough for her.”

It wasn’t harsh, or even inflected. I didn’t have the control over my voice that the vamps did, and right then I was too tired to try. But Mircea flinched anyway.

That must have really struck a nerve.

“I didn’t think it was enough! But it was better than nothing—which is what I would have had otherwise!”

“What you would have had?” I felt my forehead wrinkle. “What about what she had? She could go flitting about, riding different people, but she wasn’t in control of any of them. She can’t just take over like that. Maybe in an emergency, but not reliably, and not for long.”

It hit me suddenly that Dorina had been left just . . . watching things. She could get out, see the world, watch other people’s families, lovers, children, but could never have any of her own. And wasn’t that almost worse than the reverse? To be left watching others live while you have no way to influence anything, decide anything, plan anything . . .

Even with me. I chose where we went. Dorina just went along for the ride.

And now, after five hundred years, what did she want? Had anyone ever asked her? Had she ever even asked herself?

Maybe part of the reason she hadn’t talked to me was that she didn’t know what she wanted yet. I could relate. Until I met Claire, and finally found some sort of stability, I hadn’t done a lot of planning, either. What was the point when you don’t see a future anyway?

But now, after all this time, Dorina could have one.

Damn, it was a miracle she hadn’t banished me already.

“Banished?”

Shit.

“Stay out of my head.”

“You’re projecting.”

“Don’t give me that. I couldn’t project shit right now. My head feels like a lead balloon.”

“Perhaps if you would cease beating it into hard things, it would not.”

Mircea turned me around, and ran practiced fingers over my scalp. The bump was in the back this time, where I’d almost cracked my skull against the hard marble of the consul’s wall, thanks to her sending me and everybody else in the area flying out of the way of her little storm. I couldn’t complain too much, since I’d be a skeleton right now otherwise, but damn, it hurt!

Until Mircea’s soothing fingers stole the pain away, better than a shot of morphine.

I drowsily watched Burbles, who was back at it again, I guess in the hopes of bettering interspecies relations. “What a lovely little molded salad, with all the tiny flowers in! Why, it’s almost too pretty to eat—”

The server plucked it out of his hand, halfway to his mouth. “Sir. Please do not consume the tray ornaments.”

“There’s another way,” Mircea murmured.

“Another way for what?”

“Out of this dilemma we find ourselves in.”

I turned around to look at him, because there was something in his voice. “What dilemma?”

He frowned. No, it was more like a full-blown scowl, which I guess he could risk, being currently hidden from the room. Doubly so, since the consul’s guards had also drifted over here, leaving us behind two walls of vamps and cut off from everything.

But it was still strange.

Like the small shiver that suddenly went up my spine.

“You and Dorina.”

It was my turn to frown. “What about us?”

Mircea suddenly gripped my arm. “Do you think to hide it from me? I know exactly how powerful she is, what she can do. I know what she can do to you.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my stiff, backless slippers. I wasn’t ready to talk about this right now. I wasn’t ready to talk here at all, where the walls had ears and Marlowe, damn him, was probably listening in no matter what Mircea said. Not that I thought I’d be any more prepared back home.

“We will discuss it now,” Mircea said grimly. “If she already has this much access to your mind, there’s no choice. We have to act, and act soon.”

“Act how? What are you—”

“These new weapons. They aren’t normal magic, the type the mages produce. Our kind can’t manipulate that, can’t use it. We can buy it, at a high cost, from others, but that’s all. But this . . . The energy in those weapons was taken from the life force of the creatures providing it.”

“What? Then the soul thing . . . is true?”

“Soul thing?”

“Something some of the fey believe. That their souls are, well—that somehow they end up in their bones. Ask Caedmon.”

“I will.” Mircea looked at the fey king, still arguing with Louis-Cesare. The expression did not bode well for him. “All we know for certain is that the weapons are utilizing life magic, the same kind we tap into when we feed. And that kind of magic we can utilize; we do so every day!”

“So?”

“So that cache that the mages stole back tonight, if we could find it again . . .” He licked his lips. It was such an uncharacteristic gesture that I stared. He didn’t notice. “There should be enough.”

“Enough for what? Mircea, what are you talking about?”

His eyes found mine again. “The problem with separating the two of you was always the amount of power it required. Especially now, with the age gap between Dorina and me insignificant. On my own, I cannot hope to contain her. But with the power in those weapons . . .”

I gripped his arm, the shiver a full-on shudder now. “Mircea! What are you saying?”

Dark brown eyes bored into mine, fierce and compelling. “I’m saying . . . that I might be able to rebuild the wall.”