Storm's Heart

Page 41

Niniane’s gaze flashed up to meet Tiago’s. She asked him, What do you think?
He shook his head slightly. Arethusa moved like a panther. There is no way in hell she slipped, hit her head and drowned by accident. I don’t believe it.
What do you think we should we do?
He wanted to snatch Niniane up, take to the air and keep flying until he knew he had her in a safe place. He wanted to rampage through the camp and not stop until he found the murderer. His hand clenched on his sword hilt until it shook. He took a slow, careful breath. Rune and Aryal should investigate, he said. We need to know as soon as we can if they can clear Arethusa’s troops, so we know if we can rely on them.
Her gaze searched his face. Then she nodded. Her expression turned calm, and she gave him a squeeze around the waist and stepped away. In a voice pitched to carry some distance, she said to Aryal, “Please do whatever is necessary to verify the details surrounding the Commander’s death.”
“Right,” Aryal said. She pivoted and stalked away.
Niniane looked up at Tiago again. His mouth tightened at the dark circles shadowing the delicate skin under her eyes. She hadn’t rested well before he had awakened her because of whatever the hell was bothering her that he didn’t know about yet, and of course now was not the damn time to ask her about it.
“Would you please follow me?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said. Anywhere.
She paused. A hint of a smile crept into her tired eyes. She said in his head, Would you please put away your sword first?
He looked down at his hand, saw his white-knuckled grip and set his teeth. He growled, I’d rather not.
You are the real weapon, she said. Believe me, nobody doubts it.
“Fine,” he snapped out loud. He reached over his head and slammed the sword into the scabbard strapped to his back. He surveyed the area. The campfire in front of Niniane’s tent was quite public, but he wasn’t about to take a chance with anything. He turned to Cameron. “Guard the tent.”
“Of course,” said the human, her face cop-calm and eyes alert.
Niniane turned and walked through the camp, her small, slender figure erect, and Tiago stalked behind her. He noted how everyone responded to them. They looked at him with varying shades of wariness and alarm, but when they looked at Niniane, their faces eased perceptibly and they calmed.
He didn’t have to see her expression for himself. Niniane was damn good at public interactions.
She was also making straight for the Dark Fae soldiers’ campsite. He said, What are you doing?
I’m doing what needs to be done, she said. I am going to commiserate with and comfort my soldiers. They are not going to see me come to them too late after they have been cleared by Wyr investigators. They need to know I have faith in them. Arethusa picked them for this trip. I’m willing to take a chance on that, especially with you at my back.
His protective instincts were in hyperdrive. Every last one snarled at her plan to go among so many others, but he clamped down on his reaction and examined her reasoning. It was sound. Of course it was. Fuck. He let his tension out in an almost inaudible growl, and she glanced over her shoulder at him. She looked wry, apologetic and determined. He gave her a short nod, his mouth tight. She took a deep breath, turned away and went to talk with her troops.
They were huddled in a miserable tight clump around their campfire. They looked up as Niniane and Tiago approached. He had managed to get himself under better control and schooled his expression to impassivity by the time they grew close. He gave each of the ten soldiers a sharp, quick assessment. Their scents were stressed, and they looked shocked and grieving. A couple wiped surreptitiously at their faces as they all rose to their feet.
Niniane said, “Arethusa’s death is an unimaginable loss, and others are doing what needs to be done. For now I came to share her memory with you, and to tell you how proud she was of each and every one of you.”
She said other things, his faerie, and they were all the right and meaningful things one would say to people who were grieving, but she didn’t really have to. If he knew how to do one thing well, it was how to read soldiers. With those first two sentences, those troops were hers, heart and soul.
Someone brought Niniane a stool, and they stayed with the group and talked about Arethusa until the sky lightened with the first pale streaks of dawn. Niniane made arrangements for the captain to take command until they reached Adriyel proper, where a more permanent arrangement would be made to appoint a new Dark Fae Commander. The captain’s name was Durin, and he was a competent male with a respectful manner.
At last Niniane stood, and of course everyone else stood as well. She was just offering a last few words of encouragement to them when one of the troops sidled unobtrusively to stand behind Tiago. It was the slight, quiet male named Hefeydd, the one responsible for tending the draft horses that hauled the supply wagons.
Tiago was aware, of course. He was aware of everything that happened in the vicinity, aware of every thoughtless gesture, every hand that was raised, every sudden movement. He waited, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet.
A diffident voice spoke in his head. Sir.
Yes? he said. His mental voice was calm. He flexed the fingers of his sword hand.
Commander Arethusa gave me something that I was to give it to you if, well, if something were to happen—No, sir, please don’t turn around! I th-thought you might not mind if I just slipped it into your hand?
Yeah, like that was going to happen, he almost snarled, but then he stopped himself. Hefeydd had been one of the ones with reddened eyes who lingered at the edge of the campfire’s light. The soldier hadn’t added verbally to Arethusa’s impromptu wake, but Tiago had taken note of the grief in the Dark Fae male’s gentle face.
Tiago sighed, put a hand at the small of his back and opened his fingers.
A flat leather-wrapped package slid gently against his palm. Even as his fingers closed around it, he sensed Hefeydd moving away.
Tiago tucked the package under his arm as Niniane turned to him at last. If she had looked tired before, now she looked utterly drained, her small face white with exhaustion. He throttled the impulse to scoop her into his arms and carry her away. They had to take such care when they were under others’ scrutiny. He mustn’t do anything that would make her look weak or less than capable in the eyes of her people.
She came over to him, and he had to content himself with putting a gentle supportive hand at her back. He shortened his stride to match hers as they picked their way through the shadowed encampment.
Back at Niniane’s tent, Cameron still kept watch. Tiago’s sharp gaze ran over the human woman’s figure. Cameron looked tired but alert, her tall, slim figure held erect. He raised his eyebrows at her and she gave him a nod. She said to them, “I made coffee, if you want some.”
Niniane shook her head, wordless. He held the tent flap for her as he said to Cameron, “I’ll take a cup.”
He followed Niniane, who came to a halt in the tent’s sitting area. The brazier contained fresh coals, which warmed the area, and the lamps were lit. He dropped the leather package by one of the wooden chairs. Niniane turned to him. He pulled her into his arms and knew a fierce sense of relief as her small body nestled against his.
She buried her face in his chest. He stroked her silken black hair. “I am so proud of you,” he told her.
“Don’t be nice to me,” she said, muffled against him. “Or I might bawl like a baby.”
He cupped the back of her head with a protective hand. “You go ahead and cry if you need to,” he whispered.
The tent flap rose and Cameron stepped in, carrying a metal cup full of steaming hot coffee. She hesitated when she saw them but then stepped forward to set the coffee by the nearest chair before turning to go.
Niniane lifted her head. “Do we know anything yet?”
Cameron said, “Sorry, not yet. The last I heard Rune and Aryal had finished examining the area and were canvassing the camp.”
Niniane nodded and let her head rest against Tiago again. He stroked her silken black hair. He heard footsteps as someone approached. He took Niniane’s shoulders to ease her away, so he could turn to face the tent flap unencumbered.
Just outside, captain Durin said in a quiet voice, “Excuse me, your highness?”
“Yes, Durin, come in,” said Niniane.
Tiago noted with approval as Cameron shifted into a defensive position, mirroring his placement between Niniane and the tent opening. The tent flap lifted, and the Dark Fae male stepped just inside, his expression diffident.
“What is it, captain?” Niniane asked.
“With your approval, ma’am, I would like to set up shifts to guard your tent,” the captain said.
Exhaustion made her slow to react. She looked at Tiago in tired surprise. He said in her head, I approve. You reached out to them, and now they’re claiming you for their own. This is a very good step forward.
She nodded. She said to the captain, “It’s an excellent idea. Work with Tiago to arrange the details. He is responsible for security, and you are to answer to him from now on.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Durin looked at him. “Sir?”
“Keep the shifts short and make sure rations are generous,” Tiago told him. “Everybody’s tired. I don’t expect we’ll be moving now until tomorrow morning. I’ll come by later today to see if there’s anything you need to discuss. That will be all for now, captain.”
“Yes, sir.” Durin bowed his head to Niniane and left.
“Speaking of tired,” Tiago said. He looked at Cameron. “Get some bunk time while you can.”
“Good idea, if you’re sure you don’t need me,” said Cameron. She turned to go.
“No, wait!” Niniane said, her pixie face filled with alarm. She grabbed the other woman’s arm. “Lie down in my bed.”
Cameron’s face softened. “Niniane, you need your bed.”
“I don’t need it any time soon,” she said, her expression turning stubborn. “And I don’t want you going off by yourself.”
Cameron looked at him. He raised his eyebrows and said, “You heard her. Go to bed.”
Cameron’s face creased with exasperated amusement. “Remember, I’ve also heard you two when you argue. I never would have guessed you could present such a united front.”
Niniane smiled at him, and for a moment all the shadows in her eyes had vanished. She said, “We’re learning as we go.”
“And we’re doing a damn-fine job of it,” he added.
“And on that note,” Cameron said. She put an arm around Niniane’s slender shoulders for a quick squeeze. Niniane gave her a quick fierce hug in return, and then Cameron retired to the other part of the tent and they were finally alone.
Tiago walked to the wooden chair where his steaming cup of coffee and the leather-wrapped package waited on the floor. He shrugged off his sword harness, placed the scabbard on the floor then sat and stretched his legs with a grunt. It was a good, sturdy chair of Dark Fae construction, with interlocking parts that could be disassembled for easier transportation. It bore his weight and size well. He approved.
“I have a lap that requires a faerie’s presence,” he remarked to the room in general.
Niniane’s tired face lightened. She approached, and he gathered her up, wrapping his arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and let her body go lax with a sigh. He rested his cheek against her soft, fragrant hair.
I have been waiting quite patiently, he said. For which you may compliment me any time you like, but now I want to know what upset you before you went to bed.
He felt the relaxation leave her body. His mood, already not the best, darkened further. His arms tightened.
Silence stretched out. Then she said, “Can we agree that events have been moving at an extraordinary pace?”
He nodded thoughtfully.
“Have we not also agreed that we will trust each other to do our jobs?”
His eyes narrowed. Another nod.
She walked small fingers across his chest. “Shall we consider the possibility that our jobs might also entail assimilating all of these new events and decisions we have made?”
“Yes,” he said between his teeth. “Faerie, you should know I am no longer enamored with this line of reasoning—”
“No arguments,” she ordered. She tapped a finger against his lips. He sighed and pressed a kiss to the admonishing finger. “Perhaps we should then conclude that the troubles I went to bed with may not necessarily be of real concern at this point in time, especially with so many other urgent matters that require our attention.”
“Nope,” he said. “That was a good try but it doesn’t fly. You promised you would talk to me about what upset you. I’m holding you to it.”
Another silence, a tense one this time. Then she pushed upright to look into his eyes gravely. “I did promise, didn’t I?” she said. “I’m sorry, Tiago. I talked with Carling, who pointed out some unpleasant facts about you and me and this new life we’re trying to build with the Dark Fae.”
“That crazy-assed bitch,” he growled. “I swear to God I’m going to—”
She clapped a hand over his mouth before he could go further. She demanded, “Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?”
He took a deep breath, made himself calm down and kissed the palm of her hand. “My turn to apologize,” he said. “I’m sorry, go on.”
“There’s not much more to tell,” she said. “She just pointed out we can only hope for a certain amount of acceptance but no more. No one will believe that you don’t intend to share the throne if we were to marry. And nobody, not the Dark Fae and certainly not any of the other demesnes, will accept half-Wyr children as potential heirs to the Dark Fae throne.”