Storm's Heart (Elder Races #2)(108)

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.”

She saw Durin flinch out of the corner of her eye. Was that a weakness she could exploit? Warmth slid along the skin of her hands, and she realized she had rubbed her wrists raw. Good thing she couldn’t feel it very well. Maybe the blood soaking into the leather would help stretch it out. Okay, so that was a long shot, but she had no choice but to give it a try. She tucked her chin against her chest and kept twisting.

“The only two people we need to stop are you and your filthy animal,” Naida said.

Filthy animal. She tucked her chin in further and gave serious thought to some head-butting action. Apparently they didn’t want her dead right away. One really good crack, and she could break Naida’s patrician nose.

Naida continued. “If we kill the both of you, there is no succession to protect. Aubrey is the only real choice for the throne. He has cared for the Dark Fae people and worked on our behalf for far longer than you and I have been alive. His wisdom and experience in governance is unparalleled. The Elder tribunal will come to see his ascension as inevitable. And the Wyr have no right to stay in Dark Fae land, especially since your animal has cut all official ties with the Wyr Lord. They will have to leave. I doubt the Wyrkind will be interested in an alliance with us after this, but I am not concerned about that. The Dark Fae have done well enough without a Wyr alliance for the last two hundred years. We will succeed, especially when we place the right Commander at the head of the Dark Fae army.”

The right Commander. Gotcha.

“Greater good, my ass,” she growled. “Durin murdered Arethusa so he could become Commander, and if Aubrey becomes Dark Fae King, you get to rule by his side, which is all that matters to you, you psychotic bitch.”

Naida opened the pack. She said with edged calm, “You talk like the trash you have become. Speaking of tools, you know, exploring Urien’s house gave me a fruitful education and some unexpected opportunities.”

“If you’re referring to Urien’s fake company, we already know about it,” Niniane said.

“That tool is no longer useful. I refer to more than just that.” She reached into the pack and pulled out two sets of black chains with manacles. They radiated a kind of Power that raised Niniane’s hackles.

“What the hell are those?” she whispered.

“Urien made them,” Naida said. “He was such an expert metallurgist, and so gifted with Power. He was one of the most accomplished of us, and his notes on his research were meticulous.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” she said. “He was a treasonous mass-murdering, self-serving, Power-hungry bastard.”

Naida sighed. “Oh, get over it.” The Dark Fae woman regarded the manacles. Her gray eyes gleamed with admiration. “He designed these specifically to imprison Wyr. Apparently they worked so well they shackled the Great Beast himself. According to Urien’s notes, even though the Beast freed himself, he was not able to break these bindings.”

Oh shit. Niniane’s breath hitched and she grew still. She had heard of those shackles. They had been used when Urien had had Dragos and Pia kidnapped and imprisoned in the Goblin stronghold. They had blocked Dragos’s ability to shapeshift into his dragon form. Dragos had been able to gain his freedom only after finding the key to the shackles. Preoccupied with getting to Pia as fast as he could, he had lost the shackles and had been obsessed with trying to find them ever since.