When Darkness Ends (Guardians of Eternity #12)(10)

“Clearly they wanted to protect you.”

His fangs ached. “That’s not how it works. I keep them safe, not the other way around.”

Siljar blinked, as if confused by his burst of anger. “It was their choice.”

He wasn’t going to argue the point. At least not with the Oracle.

Now when he found Mika and Erinna . . .

“Did they tell you what direction they were going?” he instead asked.

“They only said that they wanted to investigate the vision.” The Oracle smoothed her hands down her satin robe, not appearing particularly concerned. “I don’t think they were entirely clear on what they expected to find. They were, however, quite convinced that you would soon be needed to play your part in fey history. They asked me to keep an eye on you.”

“Do I have a choice?” he muttered.

“No, your foster parents are depending on you.” Siljar reached to place a hand on his arm. “We all are.”

Cyn glanced down at the scroll in his hands. “Well, shit.”

The Haven Estate was a sprawling work of art just half an hour north of Dublin.

The three-story Palladian-style mansion was built of white stone with simple, symmetric lines and a large portico that added to the air of splendid dignity. It was framed by lavish gardens that were formally terraced to lead to the large lake with a fountain in the center.

It was precisely the type of home one would expect for an aristocratic member of the Irish Parliament. And Sir Anthony Benson was exactly the sort of man that one would expect to be the owner.

Seated in a wing chair in the Green Drawing Room, Anthony was dressed in an emerald smoking jacket the precise shade of the curtains and a formal cravat that had gone out of fashion a couple centuries ago. His face was rounded and his pale brown hair had thinned until it was little more than a fringe around the edges. At a glance he looked like a comfortable, middle-aged man with a kind smile.

It took a much closer look to see that the clear gray eyes were as flat and cold as a snake.

Sipping his aged whiskey, Anthony studied the fairy prince who stood in the center of the room.

Yiant tried to appear indifferent to Anthony’s basilisk stare, but his too-pretty face was damp with sweat and the slender hands that smoothed the silk robe covering his tall, reed-thin body weren’t quite steady.

“You summoned me?”

“I did,” Anthony said, his tone gentle as he pointed toward the ceramic pots that were arranged on a priceless pier table that had been in his family for six hundred years. “After examining your latest delivery I realized there was something missing.”

The scent of freshly mowed grass filled the air as Yiant pushed back his thick mane of golden hair.

“I provided the phi potion,” he said, referring to the potent mixture of rare herbs that Anthony needed to defy his mortality. The herbs could only be grown with fey magic. “As well as your favorite fey wine.”

“You know what I want.”

“We have no more of the potion,” the fairy insisted, the pale green eyes wary. “I told you, it was very rare.”

“Then create more.”

“It is forbidden.”

Anthony set aside his whiskey.

His family had held a treaty with the fairies for countless centuries. It had started when a distant ancestor had joined the clan of mystic druids.

It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

The druids helped to protect the traditional lands of the fey from human development and the fairies offered them extended life.

For his ancestors it’d been a religious duty. The land and the fey were a part of the magic that allowed the druids to thrive. It was in their self-interest to protect them both.

Anthony, however, wasn’t content with being a lesser partner to a bunch of fairies. Especially not after discovering that there were far more dangerous creatures out there than just the fey.

He’d been forced to accept that humans were truly stupid. They blindly believed they were the lucky winners in the evolution lottery when they were surrounded by monsters that could destroy them.

Well, Anthony wasn’t going to stand aside and allow it to happen.

If someone was going to rule the world, it wasn’t going to be some damned demon.

It was going to be him.

Wisely he’d started slow. Patience was a powerful weapon that he wielded with a skill few other humans could master.

First he’d taken command of the druids.

Most of them continued to live in the past, barely understanding technology as they instead clung to worthless traditions.

Idiots.

Once he had a firm grip on the aging fools, he’d returned to Haven and established his position as head of the Benson family. Again.

It was always tricky when a human lived longer than was reasonably expected. It meant he had to leave and return as his own son. He’d done it three times in the past century.

Once he’d earned his place in the local society and worked his way back up the political ladder, he’d been able to turn his attention to his connection to the fairies.

At first they’d only seen him as a benevolent friend.

He’d offered to extend their homelands by using his influence in the government to reclaim farmland as a sanctuary for . . . hell, what had he insisted was endangered? A pygmy shrew? Some sort of bat?