Spellbinder
Page 79

“But I’m so tired,” she wept. “Nobody understands how tired I am. He wants it back, and he never lets up, yet I can’t give it to him. If I give it back, Morgan may be freed—and the first person he will want to kill is me.”
“And me,” Modred muttered. “I killed his king, after all.”
“That was battle. People die all the time in battle. But me… I’ve held him captive for centuries, and I’ve made him do things he found revolting. Oh, I wish I had never found it! And I can’t hide it in the crystal caverns again, not while I hold Morgan with the geas. I’ve got to keep it close, and it’s so cold, yet it burns at the same time. I feel like a poker is pressed into my side. I wish I had never heard the Hunt passing or had never gone to look—and I wish I’d never found it lying in that frozen field!”
“How many times do I have to say this?” Modred said, impatience creeping into his words. “Give it to me. Let me carry it for you, just for a short while, and we can find out once and for all if the knife is causing your dreams. Maybe then you can get some rest and recover your equilibrium.”
Sid caught movement out of the corner of her eye as Isabeau pulled away from him. “I appreciate your willingness to sacrifice for me.” Her voice had turned cool and edged. Dangerous. “Dearest Modred, always so selfless. But no, just like the crown, this is my burden to carry.”
He sighed sharply. “I’m going to get Myrrah to make a poppy drink for you. I know you don’t like it, but it’s the only thing that will calm you down when you’re like this. Maybe then you can take a nap.”
“What would I do without you to look after me?” Isabeau said softly.
“I don’t know. Turn to Valentin, perhaps?” Now Modred’s voice had turned cold and edged.
There was a small silence. Drawing away, Isabeau told him, “You know he doesn’t mean anything to me. He’s not like you. You and I, we’ve been together from the very beginning of my rule.”
“And I will continue to stand by you. Of course, I will.” Modred’s voice changed. “But watch him, Izzy. Valentin has not shown you his true face. The chambermaids have hesitated to say anything, because you’re so taken with him, but more than one of them has gone to Myrrah to be treated for bruises and other injuries.”
“You would vilify anybody I have developed an affection for.” Isabeau’s voice thickened. “My headache is back, and now it is worse than ever. Get out, Modred. Leave me alone!”
“As you wish. You know how to find me. I’ll send Myrrah with the poppy drink.”
Modred thrust to his feet and stalked out of the garden, never once looking in Sid’s direction.
But then, she was so very insignificant. She had no Power, no connections. She fulfilled a function, no more.
Once he had left, Isabeau flung herself flat on the divan and began to weep again. Tuning out the noise, Sid played the lute on autopilot as she turned over the pieces of information she had gleaned.
It seemed the puck was right, after all. Isabeau had found the knife one night after the Wild Hunt had passed, and Azrael wanted his property back.
But how did this help them?
At least it solidified their understanding of the problem, yet what could they do about it? Morgan’s constraints wore on him more every day, and if Robin had known a spell for summoning the god of Death, he would have told them so already.
She wasn’t entirely clear on why they needed a spell to begin with. Mere magicless mortals didn’t cast summoning spells when they wanted to communicate with their gods. Instead, they prayed and hoped their god would take the time to hear them, and answer.
Surely now, if there ever was such a time, a god might be motivated to listen.
The thought was frightening. Sid wasn’t a praying kind of person—she had been raised in a secular household, and she lived a secular life—so she wasn’t quite sure how one was supposed to talk to a god.
Perhaps it was something like telepathy.
Fixing on the images Isabeau had described to Modred, Sid reached out and said telepathically, Lord Azrael, I’m not much for religion, and I’m only a Powerless human, but I hope you will take a moment to listen anyway. We are trying to find a way to get your knife from Isabeau and to free Morgan from his bondage. From what I’ve heard, I believe you want your knife back too. Please help us help you. I ask this of my own free will.
As she spoke, a shadow seemed to pass over the sun, and everything in the garden appeared cooler, darkened. For a moment, there was no sound anywhere, not even the sound of a breeze. Sid glanced up. The sky was a cloudless, clear blue.
Had Lord Death listened to her awkward prayer, and answered? A shudder ran through her, as if someone had walked on her grave.
Then Kallah strode across the garden toward her and beckoned, and Sid’s hour came to a close.
Grateful as always to have the time behind her, she hurried to the music hall to deposit the lute on its stand. As she turned away, a shadow fell in the doorway, and a man walked in.
It was the Light Fae male from the night of her great hall performance, the one with Isabeau and Modred in the sitting room who had given her a gold ring.
“Musician.” He greeted her with a smile as he strolled toward her. “I wondered where you had gone after that stunning show of artistry in the great hall.”
Was this Valentin? The man about whom the chambermaids had hesitated to say anything?
With a wary smile, she slipped to one side so that she put the table between them. “I’m not staying in the castle.”
“No?” he replied as he came closer. His body was loose and relaxed. “This is the first time I’ve seen you without the lute in your hands. Always before, you’ve been playing for her majesty.” He gave her a gleaming smile. “I especially liked your music in the garden. I thought of you when I climaxed inside her. It made me come harder than I have in a long time. Did you like what you saw?”
Revolted shock slapped her. For a moment, she stared, at a loss for words. No one had ever said anything like that to her in her life.
Then fury hit. Curling her hands into claws, she hissed, “Stay the fuck away from me, or I will hurt you.”
“Oh, pretty musician.” He laughed. “I would truly love to see you try.”
Balancing on the balls of her feet, she watched and waited until he rounded the corner of the table. Then she sprinted for the doorway with all the speed she could kick out. The Light Fae were fast, but so was she, and she had been running all her adult life.