Pia Does Hollywood (Elder Races, #8.6)(34)

Pia stared. “So she actually admitted she killed him.”

“Yes. If Shane had not been present, the spell she threw at me would have killed me instantly. As it was, he acted very quickly and deflected it.”

“He has quite a reputation as a magic user,” Pia remarked.

Tatiana smiled. “He did then too, and Dain had been one of his closest friends. Between Shane and Isabeau, magic flew everywhere. They literally brought the halls down around our ears. This all happened before Isabeau acquired Morgan and her other Hounds, or Shane very well might have been overpowered and we all would have died that night. I remember being shocked at the magical battle, because she had grown unbelievably strong—much stronger than I or anybody else had realized.” After shredding the lettuce, Tatiana began to crumble bread between her fingers. “That night caused a schism between our people. Some stayed loyal to her, and others followed me and Shane. We were refugees for several months, traveling across Britain and building a temporary encampment along the shore until we finally decided upon sailing as far west as we could. We ended up settling here in southern California.” The Queen gave her a sidelong smile. “Of course, I compressed several years into a few sentences. The actual living of the tale took much longer.”

“You sent out the Sebille before you set sail yourself,” Pia said.

“Yes, I did,” Tatiana replied. “Good friends were on that ship. We were heartbroken when it disappeared without a trace.”

“Do you think Isabeau had anything to do with it sinking?”

“Sometimes I wonder if she did, although that’s mere speculation. Storms happen. Ships sink. At any rate, as I said, the night of the confrontation was, I think, the first time Isabeau tried to kill me, but it wasn’t the last. Every so often, an assassin shows up here, or someone tries to plant a bomb. Apparently, my sister is not just delusional, but she’s unable to forgive or move on with her life. To be honest, I’ve grown used to it.” Tatiana sighed. “Out of sheer exasperation, I’ve tried to have her assassinated too, but she’s grown too strong and wary for me to get anyone close enough to do it. And somehow, she has gathered her Hounds. They are utterly loyal to her.”

Pia finished her meal and set the pasta bowl aside. Then, because she couldn’t resist, she asked, “When was Dragos at Isabeau’s Court?”

“Some time before I got pregnant, but now that I think about it, not too much earlier.” Frowning, Tatiana set her uneaten meal aside as well and wiped her fingers with her napkin, as fastidious as a cat. She said, “Dragos didn’t lose his memory from the contagion, did he?”

Pia stopped moving. For a moment, she didn’t breathe, as her mind raced frantically around, searching for a way to deflect or misdirect.

But now that the Queen had flat out said the truth, her options had turned slim to none. The thing about shadows and misdirection was, once someone started to disbelieve the magic, their power dissipated like so much smoke.

She had almost begun to believe that they had tap-danced well enough that they were going to be able to keep all their secrets.

As her hesitation went on a bit too long, the Queen asked gently, “Was it the head injury? The news downplayed his accident this summer, but of course the scar on his forehead is quite visible.”

God, she hoped Dragos would forgive her for this. Pia met the other woman’s gaze and said directly, “Yes.”

Tatiana blinked. Clearly she hadn’t expected such a straightforward response. “I see.”

“He’s going to hate that I told you that,” she said dryly.

Long eyelashes fell, obscuring the expression in the other woman’s eyes. “You don’t need to let him know that you told me.”

Pia wasn’t about to play that game. “Oh, yes, I do. We have no secrets between us. Ever.”

Tatiana acknowledged that by lifting one shoulder. “That’s always the wisest course in a marriage. It’s an especially wise course of action to take as Dragos’s mate.”

“Well, it isn’t a tactical maneuver,” she replied, glancing out the window. Dragos had eaten some of the food on the tray and pushed the rest aside. Now he lay on his back, eyes closed, hands folded across his flat, lean stomach. Despite the thick chains circling his wrists and ankles, he looked quite comfortable. She smiled to herself. “We trust each other. So, he’ll be annoyed with me, but he’ll get over it.”

Envy flashed across the other woman’s face, or at least she thought it did. It had vanished in the next instant, so she couldn’t tell. Tatiana asked, “Do you know how much memory he’s lost?”

“At first, his memory loss was total. But, thank God, that didn’t last more than a few days. Now, almost all of it has returned. Everything that matters to me, at least. He has a few pockets of long-term memory loss, but mostly, those are historical events. It’s really just a fluke that the whole thing has come up. If we hadn’t been so preoccupied with—with other things, I don’t think there would have even been a misstep.” She smoothed her fingers along the edges of the chair cushion. “Can you tell me what Dragos was doing at the Seelie Court?”

“To be honest, I don’t really know,” Tatiana replied. “He was a recurring guest for several seasons. He and Isabeau seemed to have this ongoing thing.”