Storm's Heart (Elder Races #2)(48)

Commander Arethusa stood ramrod-straight behind one couch. The powerfully built Dark Fae woman glared at Tiago. “The Wyr is not allowed here,” Arethusa gritted. “He must leave. Now.”

Without warning Niniane’s temper leaped from the cool green side of her shit-o-meter into the red zone. Her fists clenched. It was actually a good thing she didn’t have either a lead pipe or a candlestick.

“Hey, you know what, Arethusa?” she said. “I am going to be your sovereign. You can’t speak to me like that. EVER. I don’t care how valid you think your point is or how strongly you may feel about it. Let’s pause there for a minute. While we’re on the subject of what you can’t do, you can’t EVER treat me again like I am a pawn to be maneuvered. If any of you EVER again deny me any necessity, like, oh, say, my clothes or toiletries or a goddamn blanket, just to set yourself up for some kind of legal precedent, I don’t care how many years of service you have given to the Dark Fae or what you think may be owed to you. I will have you strung up on the nearest tree, and you should count yourself lucky that that’s all I will do, because I know my uncle would have gutted you for such an offense. You may be too old for me to teach you any real decency. But that does not mean I will allow you to treat me with anything but the utmost care and respect. Are we quite clear?”

Though her attention was focused on the Dark Fae Commander, she happened to catch a glimpse of Carling out of the corner of her eye. Was that a glimmer of approval in the old Vampyre’s gaze?

Arethusa’s expression underwent a change so rapid Niniane would have sworn her look of shocked contrition was sincere. “Your highness,” said the Commander. “My most profound apologies. I did not mean any lack of respect to you—my comment was meant to be directed at him.”

“It is my decision to have Tiago here,” she said. “He volunteered to come to Chicago and to help and protect me. He hasn’t hesitated to provide generously for my every need without being asked, without trying to maneuver for political gain and without asking for repayment. In fact, every item of clothing I have on right now is because of him. It is certainly not because of any of you. So what you say to him, you are saying to me.”

It was clear the Dark Fae Commander didn’t care to hear that, for her face tightened and she shot another glare at Tiago, but she remained silent. It was Justice Kellen who cleared his throat and spoke for the first time. The aged Dark Fae male was one of the finest legal minds of any Elder demesne, the elegant bones of his face covered in a fine tracery of wrinkles, his long white hair pulled back in a queue. Niniane remembered him from when she was a child, but then she remembered all of them, just as she remembered her uncle Urien’s cool, clever charm that had, to the happy undiscriminating child she had been, seemed so affectionate.

“Our decision to refuse to cooperate with sentinel Black Eagle was not well done of us,” Kellen said to her in his gentle, cultured voice. “And for that, your highness, I do most sincerely apologize. The only thing I will say in our defense is we did not conceive of the possibility that your needs would go unmet.”

Okay, so that stopped her shit-o-meter from boiling over. Kellen had always been a superb diplomat, and his nonaggressive approach was famous for cooling hotter heads than hers. She bit her lip and after a moment managed to give him a curt nod.

The Justice said, “We also have had deep misgivings at the Wyrkind’s participation in recent events. As Commander Shiron has indicated, we feel it is imperative to distance ourselves immediately from any further involvement with them.”

If that didn’t sound like an opening to a litany of complaints, she didn’t know what did. Niniane sighed as she walked over to sit in an armchair opposite Carling. She gestured for the others to be seated as well, and they arranged themselves in a rough circle, with Kellen and Arethusa on a couch and Aubrey in the last chair.

Tiago moved silently to take a standing position behind her. As she glanced at him, she saw the massive muscles of his biceps and chest bulge as he crossed his arms. She remembered his favorite position leaning against the wall during conferences with Dragos and the other sentinels in Cuelebre Tower, and a wave of homesickness washed over her. She shoved it aside. She had no time to indulge in memories or maudlin feelings.

As far as the general public was concerned, Urien had died in a riding accident, but there were a few individuals throughout the Elder Races who had enough Power to scry for the truth. The governing bodies of the different demesnes knew very well that Dragos had really killed the Dark Fae King.

“If you are referring to how Urien was killed, he had just kidnapped and attacked Dragos’s pregnant mate,” she said point-blank. “He got what he deserved, and everybody in this room knows it. And that’s without even discussing any of his older crimes, which include slaughtering my family and his King.”

“Regardless of Urien’s crimes and how anyone may feel about his death, the fact remains that the Lord of the Wyr killed the Dark Fae King,” said Kellen. “And regicide is a very serious matter. But that event is not to which I refer, at least not on its own.” The Justice’s gaze shifted to Tiago. “We must wonder at the deep game the Wyr are playing, and why after sheltering you for so many years they would make an attempt on your life.”

“What are you talking about?” she said. Even as she spoke the words, Tiago shifted with a sudden muttered curse.