Storm's Heart (Elder Races #2)(84)

Take the bug, for instance. He was pretty sure that nervous little man had a drug addiction of some sort. He had a scent that was too chemical but with no underlying layers to indicate he was taking something for an illness. Tiago was pretty laissezfaire about drug addictions—whatever a person chose to do was their own business—except when it came to people in positions of some importance or authority. An addiction meant impaired judgment and a weakness to exploit. Someone could be bribed or blackmailed, or hell, they might just f**k up. The bug smelled of fear. He was afraid he was going to get caught and removed from his position. He was right.

Another person of interest to Tiago was the guard captain, whose attitude toward Niniane held a veiled antagonism. Tiago had roused to urge her silently to step back toward him, while he assessed the man. Tiago continued to watch the captain without seeming to for several minutes after Niniane had moved away, watching the man’s expressions and how he interacted with the people around him. If he were to make a guess, it looked like the captain had a problem with women in authority. It didn’t appear that his veiled antagonism was directed at Niniane in particular. It was nothing personal—and the man was going to have to go, just as fast as Tiago could have a word with Arethusa to make it happen.

Naida, now. There was an interesting chick. Tiago was entertained by how a tea service and a tray of munchies could turn into some kind of subtle push for power or position. The kind of maneuvering for position he was used to tended to involve heavy artillery, a fight to get to high ground and his troops laying down covering fire. He watched and waited as his faerie assessed the situation, mulled it over and then sent the other woman away. Naida’s posture and expression had been quite correct and compliant, but she couldn’t hide her flare of scent aggression that filled the air as she walked out of the room. Naida couldn’t be fired like the other two, but he thought he could learn a lot by keeping an eye on her.

The Chancellor was a different matter altogether. His face, scent and posture spoke of alarm, not aggression. Tiago took a plate, filled it and handed it to Niniane, who accepted it after a hesitation and a flare of surprise in her gorgeous eyes. He took another plate—there were three, he noticed, which was perfect, although not exactly what Naida had originally intended—and he piled that one higher then relaxed back in his chair and watched the Chancellor with cold killer’s eyes. Tiago decided he enjoyed armchair warfare. It was so comfortable, and there were pastries.

Aubrey’s face tightened as he suppressed some kind of strong emotion. It was a complicated scent Tiago couldn’t yet decipher. The Chancellor turned to Niniane. “I apologize for my outburst, your highness,” he said. “You said you had an agenda.”

The guy was smooth, Tiago would grant him that. Maybe it was sincere and maybe it wasn’t. Time would tell.

He could almost see his faerie give a mental oh-screw-it shrug. She slipped off her shoes, tucked her feet underneath her and selected one of the pastries Tiago had given her. The one she selected had chocolate in it, and the box of chocolates he had given her had already disappeared. He made a mental note.

Niniane took a bite of the pastry and set it on her plate, her face thoughtful. Tiago shifted his plate to cover the growing bulge in his crotch as he watched her lick powdered sugar off her fingers. Thinking and licking just became his two new favorite things to watch her do. What was going on behind that sweet pixie face of hers? Was she thinking through A and B to reach C or D, or was she jumping out of the logical alphabet again? He couldn’t wait to see her when she was really conniving.

When she spoke next, it was to tell the Chancellor about her line of thinking about the Wyr, seasoned as it was by the intimacy of long familiarity, along with the conversation she’d had with Aryal. “So you see, it is nonsensical to believe the Wyr were behind the attack,” she said.

“I see,” Aubrey said. “Thank you for taking the time to explain it to me. When you explain everything that way, it does seem obvious that Dragos and the Wyr government were not involved, except in an accidental way as Tiago defended you.”

Tiago enjoyed his snack while he watched and listened. Aubrey mentioned nothing of Arethusa’s conversation with Tiago and Rune at the morgue. Arethusa must have decided to play her cards very close to her chest. Interesting. Apparently Arethusa didn’t trust anybody at the moment. Given her familiarity with the other Dark Fae, what did that say about her, or them? Tiago let the puzzle pieces in his head connect, break apart and re-form into different scenarios.

“Now to move on to your second point,” said Aubrey. The male looked at Tiago directly. “Please understand, this is not meant to be personal in any way. I have great admiration for everything you’ve accomplished. But no one will accept one of Dragos’s sentinels, let alone his warlord, on permanent deployment in the Dark Fae demesne. It would be considered an act of aggression and cause for war. The Dark Fae are unsettled enough by Urien’s death. While he had grown unpopular, he also ruled with a strong hand that gave many a sense of security they no longer have at the moment.”

“That’s why I quit,” said Tiago. He popped another pastry into his mouth.

The other male sat forward, his gaze sharp. “Excuse me?”

“I said I quit,” Tiago told him. “I am an independent agent. I no longer work for Dragos in any capacity.”

Aubrey’s astonished gaze shot to Niniane, who nodded. She said, “He’s coming with me.”