Rogue’s Possession Page 8

  “Aha, Lord Rogue, so you capitulate at last. Our next battle—next several battles, I should hope—will be at sea. How do you propose to vanquish the enemy?”

  “As expeditiously as possible.” A flash of cobalt blue as Rogue glanced at me. “I have other interests to pursue.”

  “Lady Strawberry here is suggesting sea monsters, but I find that so trite. So last season—don’t you agree?”

  A sunset-orange page set a shallow bowl of tiny fish in front of me. Still swimming. I looked to see if Rogue was really going to eat it and found Falcon’s beady yellow gaze on me. He grinned, baring sharply pointed teeth. Nobody else had received the dish. Under the tablecloth, Rogue placed a hand on my thigh in subtle warning. The last time we’d feasted side by side like this, he’d warned me not to refuse my host’s food.

  But a bowl of fish?

  I wondered if it would be bad manners to convert them into rice. Or chicken nuggets. Surely puking up my host’s food would be more insulting than not eating it.

  A paw patted my other thigh and I looked down in to Darling’s hopeful green gaze. I scooted my chair back enough for him to leap onto my lap and scratched between his ears.

  “So thoughtful, Lord Falcon, to provide for my Familiar. He’s been just craving fish.”

  Someone at the table giggled, and I figured more than one person had heard about Darling’s exploits—imagined or otherwise—with the mermaids. Darling delicately perched on the table and lapped at the swimming soup eagerly. Rogue patted my leg. Hopefully in approval.

  He set to arguing the pros and cons of sea monsters, sliding his own plate of the usual feast food of pastries and fruit between us, so I could share. In big groups, with lots of people chattering, the translation telepathy tended to fail me. The words became a wash of nonsensical sound and I received a kaleidoscope of images, most of them not correctly sequenced. Rogue’s hand stayed hot on my upper thigh, distracting even through the full skirt of my dress.

  I confess I tuned a lot of it out. Now that I knew how to screen thoughts better, I filtered most of the white noise and focused mainly on Rogue and Falcon.

  That was when I caught Rogue saying “kill the rest of their mortal troops easily enough. With no humans to fight for them, they’ll be crippled.”

  I swallowed hard on the crumbly pastry I’d been chewing. Once I would have blurted out my opinion. Once I had done that very thing and—though I wasn’t superstitious—the lapse had in some ways precipitated this entire adventure. I’d learned some difficult, painful lessons since then, and one was definitely about keeping my mouth shut.

  I was already sick to death of the practice.

  There was no way I’d stand by and let them sacrifice my kind just because it was easy for them to do. The fae nobles had all the power, and the humans—and, to be fair, pretty much all the lesser fae—were merely disposable game pieces. The humans had no one with any ability on their side.

  Except for me. The human ace in the hole. I’d gone to great lengths to find ways to perform magical feats that won the battles without causing death and destruction. It didn’t matter that the human folk didn’t ask for it or appreciate it. Call it genetic loyalty.

  “Can I speak to you alone?” I asked it of Rogue as softly as I could.

  He regarded me with cool surprise and a glint of clear warning. “You would insult our host?”

  Okay, no. I considered telling him mind to mind, but he’d told me long ago that sort of communication was more easily overheard than verbal. I needed some kind of code. But with the translation telepathy in effect, everyone would likely hear what I intended to say regardless of the words I chose.

  I ground my teeth in frustration. Nothing for it but the direct route then. “I cannot stand by and allow the humans to be harmed.”

  “It doesn’t concern you.” Rogue started to turn back to the conversation, but I put my hand over his. The blue-black feral anger in him stirred and I stroked his skin. We really didn’t need for the Dog to put in an appearance.

  “It does.” I kept my voice as quiet as I could, but he had to know I wouldn’t budge on this. “Our objectives are the same, remember.”

  “Surely you don’t claim those animals as kin, Lady Sorceress.” Navy Man looked astonished and more than a little disgusted. “Though it would be anticlimactic to simply sink the rest of the ships. The naval battle would be over far too soon.”

  “Perhaps I could provide sea monsters,” Lady Strawberry suggested, as if she’d never said it before, “to eat the sailors once the ships sink?”

  “The Lady Gwynn has always displayed rather lowbrow tastes,” Falcon nearly purred. “Should we be concerned about your loyalty, Sorceress? Or are we safe from you, now that Lord Rogue holds your leash?”

  They all leered at me and Puck waggled his eyebrows. Darling stalked off down the center of the table, knocking goblets over with a swishing tail.

  “The humans are not her people.” Rogue appeared to be answering Falcon’s question, but the words were directed at me. “She left her people behind, as a snake sheds its skin. Look at her face—even now the fae lines are showing.”

  I pulled my hand away, but he captured it, holding on fiercely, while the others murmured speculation among themselves.

  “It’s on the left side. Silver-white, faint, barely catching the light, but there—on your temple. You are not what you were.”

  The cold razor claw in me shifted, whispered, answering to the swirl in him.

  I turned my hand, laced my fingers with Rogue’s despite the queasy fear that undermined my thoughts. “I have a proposition then.”

  Rogue’s lips tightened into a thin line.

  As I knew he would, Falcon pounced. “What deal do you offer me?”

  Rogue continued to study me, shifted so his thumb stroked my palm, sending warm shivers through me. Somehow soothing, stimulating and threatening all at once. Down the table someone chastised Darling for sitting in their plate of food. He hissed in reply and the someone yelped, no doubt at a clawed paw-swipe.

  “A twofer.”

  Falcon’s eyes blazed with yellow lust. I could hear his thoughts spinning with glee. Rogue had gone still. Waiting. It was a form of trust, I supposed, that he didn’t stop me immediately for committing him to an unknown plan. Or the confidence that he could prevent that, with the least effort.

  Keeping my thoughts as still and clear as possible, I crafted my phrasing.

  “In exchange for my freedom, for a number of occasions, the exact number and duration to be determined in this negotiation, Rogue and I will work together to solve the problem posed for the specific battle. We shall arrive for those occasions and leave after they are complete.” Had I forgotten anything? Darling trotted up the table, urgently reminding me about his military career. “Oh, and Darling will also return, to participate in those select battles.”

  Falcon looked suspicious. Rogue was downright steamed.

  Only Darling seemed pleased with me, happily flopping himself into the empty soup bowl, which he overlapped so much that his head landed in Rogue’s plate, offering me his belly for rubbing.

  Navy Man, Puck and Lady Strawberry proclaimed it an excellent deal and urged Falcon to accept it. Falcon chewed on a thick nail, frowning.

  He wasn’t sure of the catch, I realized. I’d thrown a wrench into their careful choreography, altering whatever backroom deal they’d set up, and now Falcon suspected a trap. For his part, Rogue simply continued to stroke my palm with a sensual threat.

  Well, hell. I’d tried to talk to him before it came to this. I widened my eyes and shrugged a little. A kind of apology, what-could-I-do sort of look.

  “The deal is acceptable,” Falcon said, slowly, sounding it out, and the table broke into cheering and, in one case, a jig. “We shall establish—”

  “A moment.” Rogue’s icy voice silenced the room. Even Darling stopped purring and opened one sleepy eye to keep it on the man holding my hand in an increasingly
fierce grip. Would he disagree? Falcon already knew I’d introduced something new. Though he likely thought Rogue had coached me to do it. “I have something to add that I believe Lady Sorceress Gwynn neglected to mention.”

  My blood ran cold at the look on his face. I’d pissed him off before, but not so much since our new level of intimacy. I suppose he hadn’t expected me to dig in on this point, with the humans.

  “I will perform all magics. Not Lady Gwynn.”

  I felt the frown knit my forehead. Why was that a big deal? On the surface it seemed just fine, but I hated feeling that I’d missed something here. Rogue released my hand and raised his to my earring, brushing my breast on the way up, making me catch my breath. The little clawed tendrils of the earring responded to the movement, sending another arousing tremor through me. Clouding my mind with desire.

  “Agreed, my Gwynn?” Rogue purred, and the anger still seethed beneath the words, black and hot. “We decide together, but I perform the magic.”

  I nodded, tearing my gaze from his compelling eyes.

  The others dived into the negotiations with renewed vigor, listing potential battles, debating the relative glory to be gained from each, and all seemed genuinely thrilled to speculate on what Lord Rogue might bring, in the way of spectacular magic.

  As for me, I’d gotten what I’d hoped for—the opportunity to protect the humans from being treated as disposable toys. And he’d agreed to help me with both of my quests. I hoped it wasn’t just cynicism in me that warned me that I’d just gotten exactly what I wished for.

  Which never boded well.

  Chapter Six

  In Which I Am Magically Transformed into a Concubine

  Dragon’s blood appears to have anti-magical properties, to the point that at high concentrations it becomes repellent or toxic to magical beings. Humans, however, appear to be immune.

  ~Big Book of Fairyland, “Objects with Magical Properties”

  The feast did indeed drag on for hours. That was one of the downsides of hanging around immortal fae types—they didn’t get tired, and what they find fun could be on a whole other level of excruciatingly boring. There were so many more interesting things I could be doing with my time than listening to the Mad Hatter crowd spin stories of potential battles and retell previous ones with utter disregard for what actually happened.

  It says something about me that I took comfort in Rogue’s similarly seething restlessness. He had himself on a tight leash, speaking little and only occasionally fixing me with a molten blue gaze that revealed only that his anger hadn’t subsided. My neck started to feel stiff and sore from holding up the elaborate hairstyle, and a headache threatened at the base of my skull.

  Despite my stubborn nature, I really hated having Rogue mad at me. Or anyone, for that matter. I had to stop myself from reaching out to soothe him, to get him to smile at me again, with that affectionate charm. I had to keep reminding myself it wasn’t wrong to adhere to my own standards.

  Even if he was pouting.

  By the time the feast ended, Rogue had negotiated the generals down to three pivotal battles, to be named. Everyone seemed pleased. Given that he bargained with the skill of a long-scam con artist, Rogue could elicit the best deal for him and make people delighted to give it to him. And I was happy to let him handle it.

  Finally, he decorously assisted me to my feet and then ran a long-fingered hand down my back to rest on my hip. The sun was slanting to afternoon. We said cheery goodbyes—the truth in mine fueled by my intense relief at finally getting to leave—and strolled out on the acid-green grass with Larch in the lead. I’m sure we looked for all the world like a happy couple with their faithful page.

  “I should take you away right this instant,” Rogue said, in a silky tone, “tie you to my bed so you can’t move and teach you better uses for that clever tongue.”

  “Now you sound like Falcon,” I retorted. Larch gave no indication he’d overheard.

  “Have a care, foolish Gwynn—you have pushed me far indeed.”

  No surprises there. I contemplated apologizing, but what exactly would I be sorry for?

  “I’m sorry I made you angry,” I finally offered. “It was not my intention.”

  “You do realize those humans care nothing for your fate? They are not the people you left behind. These are little better than animals—grubbing among themselves for the least crumb of advantage. The soldiers here may admire you, but in the villages they would burn you alive for bearing the taint of Faerie magic.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement.”

  “Which means you will ignore my cautions, as always.” His own magic churned around him, sending out seeking tendrils, threads of cobalt edged in black. “I shall bid you farewell until tonight. I trust Larch will lead you back to your tent.”

  Since I was saved from having to explain, yet again, that I only disregarded Rogue’s cautions because I couldn’t tell them from his attempts to corral me, I did not point out that I could find my own damn tent and that maybe I had other places to go.

  He faced me and cupped the back of my neck, rubbing it so that the tension there faded. His eyes had darkened to nearly black, and the pattern on his face seemed to pulse, a sign that the Dog welled near the surface.

  “I shall ask you to make this up to me tonight, my rash and beautiful Gwynn. Be prepared for that.” The words sparked a startling surge of lust, my sex suddenly aching. He smiled, knowingly. “Wine and roses.”

  He released my neck and flicked a flower earring, sending an extra pulse of sensation through my nerves. Then he dissolved into thin air.

  “Dammit—he didn’t tell me how to take these off again,” I groused to no one, since Larch was waiting, patient as a garden gnome, a short distance away. Tugging at them, I found, only made them clamp tighter, changing their light tickle to outright pain. I calmed myself and wished them away. No change. Didn’t that just figure. I headed toward the tent.

  “Where are you going, Lady Sorceress?” Larch inquired, ever so politely.

  Well, I had thought I could find my own tent. “Isn’t it this way?”

  “Yes, but you are late for your self-defense lesson.”

  “I’m pretty sure those are canceled now.”

  Larch’s face fell, his features crushed with disappointment. “You would break your vow to me?”

  Well, shit. One of these days I’d learn to quit carelessly promising things, like that I’d learn how to defend myself if Larch would just give me a moment’s peace. Unfortunately, I’d nearly had a fling with my instructor, the handsome Officer Liam, which had come to a nasty end when Rogue found out. All I needed to round out this fabulous day would be an unpleasant encounter with the almost-lover scorned. No choice there.

  “Okay, fine. But I’m not exactly dressed for it, I don’t have my weapons and I’m quite certain Liam won’t be there.

  “You can alter your garments easily enough, powerful as you are, Lady Sorceress, and I shall send someone for your weapons.” With that, he trotted in the lead, whistling such a merry tune that I suspected the crestfallen look had been an Oscar-worthy acting job.

  To my great chagrin, Officer Liam was waiting at the practice ring and clearly had been for some time. He squinted at me and then at the sun, bronze curls gleaming. “You’re late.”

  I gestured to my dress. “I was otherwise engaged. Command performance.”

  A gaggle of dragonfly girls dashed up, carrying my sun-and-moon wheels and my three-foot stick. It seemed I was doing this.

  “You’ll have to show more commitment than this, if you hope to accomplish anything.” His tone was fine, but the words barbed. Seemed like an awful lot of people wanted to tell me what to do today.

  “Aren’t I paying you?” I asked him in my best lady-of-the-manor voice. If there was to be distance between us, I wanted it my way.

  “Yes, Lady Sorceress.” He bowed, irritation wafting off him.

  “Fine.” It might do me good to work of
f some energy—both the sexual and the mad. I concentrated on the image I wanted and converted my heels to a pair of cross-trainers and my dress into workout shorts and a sports bra. Liam’s mouth dropped open, both for the display of magic and skin. A grin of satisfaction warmed me and I picked up my stick, swinging it in the figure eight I’d learned. “Let’s do this.”

  I hadn’t had a lot of lessons so far and little time to practice or build my arm muscles, but I was improving. I swung the stick, blocking Liam’s attacks, spinning my way through the practice movements. The spiky sun-and-moon wheels were more difficult to manage. Nevertheless, I didn’t clonk or slice myself the way I had the first few times.

  And it felt good. Muscles working, sweat running down my body, no time to think about all the things that consumed my waking thoughts. No complex negotiating. Just movement. Thrust. Parry. Spin. Lunge. The silver wheels flashed in the sunlight and I drove hard into Liam, backing him up as the knife-edges drew closer and his blocks grew more desperate.

  I felt supple, elastic, closing in on my helpless prey.

  “Hold!” he yelled, the sound penetrating my mind enough for it to inform me it wasn’t the first time he’d said it.

  I pulled back and the man bent over, panting, hands braced on his knees. My hair had long since fallen out of Starling’s elaborate headdress, and now it hung long, plastered to my neck and arms with sweat. My body sang with power and strength. I could take him now, while he was weak. Claws flexing, I closed the distance between us.

  The man’s head rose and his eyes flared with fear. He froze. Wise. He couldn’t escape me.

  “Lady Sorceress,” a blue page intoned behind me. “Your next appointment awaits.”

  I frowned at him, not entirely certain who the little guy was. Though he smelled good. Would he taste of blueberries or flesh?