Magic Forged (Hall of Blood and Mercy #1)(59)

“Oh, it seems, does it?” The Paragon snarled and ruffled his mustache. “You better not have tipped them off.”

“I would never,” Killian said in a flat and unconvincing tone.

“Why don’t you just leave the Midwest?” I asked.

The Paragon sighed deeply. “Can’t,” he said. “Fae business.”

“How terrible,” Killian said. “Now buzz off. You are ruining our dinner.”

“You have a strange sense of humor.” The Paragon eyed the white wine a second server set in front of me.

“It’s not humor,” Killian said. “I brought my wizard out to enjoy her company, not look at your dusty face. Go away.”

The Paragon snorted. “You’ve never enjoyed anyone’s company since the day you were born.”

“Perhaps you are right.” Killian’s unnatural stillness combined with the iciness of his voice made it hard to sit demurely in my chair.

I fought my survival instincts and reached across the table to set my hand on his forearm. He was stiff, but he didn’t shake me off. I squeezed his arm, then leaned back, grateful the experience hadn’t ended in bloodshed. “I still have to thank you for your help, Paragon. I never would have known my magic was sealed without you.”

“No trouble at all.” He glanced at Killian, seemingly realizing he’d stepped on a landmine of sorts. “I’m glad I could be of assistance. Have you had any luck in breaking the cursed thing?”

“The seal? No. Though it is not from lack of trying,” I said with some acid in my voice.

By now Killian had relaxed marginally and once again returned to leaning back in his chair, the mocking light back in his eyes. “Don’t look now, Paragon, but here comes one of your constituents.”

The Paragon groaned and hung his head as a male fae with silvery hair and copper skin approached our table. He was dressed in a robe of black and dark purples and blues, and had a circlet—or if I was being unkind, a tiara—threaded through his hair. Going by his clothes, I’d say he was a Night Court fae.

“Good evening, Your Eminence,” the fae said in a voice that sounded as dark as the night.

Killian showed no signs of hostility. If anything, he seemed even more relaxed, and a frightening smirk played at the edges of his lips. “Good evening, Ira.”

“Might this be the wizard you accepted into servitude?” the fae, Ira, asked.

“I am surprised you heard of her.”

“Surely you expected the community to talk. Allowing her to pledge servitude to the Drake Family and bring wizard drama into your domain is rather out of character for you.”

Killian shrugged. “I will do much for the sake of my amusement. Hazel Medeis—Adept of House Medeis.” He extended his hand to me expectantly.

Awkwardly, I reached out to take it, and he tugged me out of my seat so I stood next to his chair.

“She’s no servant.” Killian slid his thumb under my palm and tapped me, reminding me to slip on a stupid look of admiration. “Rather, I’ve taken her on as a pet, you could say.”

I smiled as big as I could at him and leaned a bit closer, attempting to appear over-eager. (Good heavens, I hoped House Medeis’s reputation didn’t suffer too badly for this show. Ugh.)

Ira made a noise of surprise in the back of his throat. “You’re keeping a pet—an animal that requires affection to survive? And you believe she will survive? It seems you have become overly optimistic—perhaps the stress of your powerful role has changed you.”

Killian shrugged. “I have a use for her. Given time I’m sure she’ll be terrifyingly adept in magic and fighting. Wizards have the capacity to be stronger than fae, given their war-like magical abilities. It appeals to me.”

“Perhaps, except it would seem you’ll never be able to take full advantage of her blood,” Ira observed. “Even if you coaxed her into putting her faith in you, you could never trust her that much, blood-stalker.” Ira smirked. “And given her current level of abilities, it seems she’ll merely be fodder for gossip for some time—if not always.”

“Ira, stop picking childish fights.” The Paragon abruptly stood up. “Everyone in the city knows the fae have enough trouble of their own—the only thing you’re going to get by poking the bear is your hand bitten off.”

“But, Paragon, we fae are only allowed to speak the truth.” Ira made a show of widening his dark eyes and motioning to Killian and me. “What I’ve said cannot possibly be offensive if it is the truth.”

The Paragon rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his hawkish nose. “This job stinks. Why can’t I quit?” he muttered under his breath—though I don’t know that the vampire or other fae were bothering to listen based on the way they eyed each other.

Killian stayed seated—probably a show of power—but raised an eyebrow at Ira. “I was unaware that the Night Court had a reason to fear the idea of my having a pet wizard. She won’t attack except on behalf of my Family, after all. Unless…you are subverting Drake Family interests?”

Now it was Ira’s turn to roll his eyes. “What could the Night Court have against the Drake Family?” he simpered.

It was about then that I felt it: fae magic.