Charming Marjani Page 4

  She only turned on her smartphone once. Adric had tried repeatedly to get in touch with her. She hesitated, and then tapped the off button. He could track her by her quartz, and he’d know if she were seriously injured, or dead.

  So he wouldn’t worry. Much.

  It still hurt, that last conversation. He’d only just stopped himself from saying she was weak—possibly feral. She’d thought Adric still believed in her, even if no one else did. To learn he didn’t had been a hard blow.

  Maybe you are too weak to hold off the cougar.

  She shook her head, dislodging the sly voice. But it returned, again and again.

  Another night passed. Sometime after midnight, the cat came alert. A plump white sheep had escaped its fence. She swerved toward it, her mouth watering. Already tasting the sheep’s sweet flesh.

  No.

  Marjani-the-human fought a silent battle with the cat. It wasn’t worth it. She didn’t want to attract attention. She was hungry, yes, but not starving.

  The cat pulled up short, snarling at being thwarted. The sheep let out a terrified bleat and galloped off as fast as its sturdy legs could carry it.

  Marjani halted, lungs pumping hard and fast. Was this the night she went feral?

  Because each time it was harder to say no.

  The cougar was a badass with sharp claws and two-inch fangs. No one messed with Marjani when she was in that form.

  Yes, the cat whispered. Let me win. I’m strong. Fierce. No one will ever hurt you again.

  She clenched her jaw and resisted.

  Because she was not an animal. She was a fada, with the blood of three species in her veins: human, cougar and fae. And she loved her woman form as much as her cougar, even if it was weaker.

  Another few days passed. Her hunger had forced her to draw heavily on her quartz, depleting the energy in the tiny crystals. She needed food and rest, and the quartz needed time to replenish itself.

  The rain had finally stopped when she came upon a river. By then, she was shaky with hunger. She waded in up to her chest and drank deeply before scanning the water for something to eat—fish, shellfish, a water bird…anything. At a flash of silver, she pounced and emerged victorious with a large fish. She settled on the sandy bank and tore into it, devouring everything but the tail and fins.

  Replete, she had another drink and then sat on the bank to groom herself. Above her, the clouds had finally cleared to reveal the Milky Way, a glittering band of light flung against the black sky. Her breath snagged. She sank onto her haunches, awed, the crystals in her quartz humming.

  As the sun rose, she crept into a hiding place beneath two large boulders and fell into a deep, healing sleep. When she opened her eyes again, the sun was on the opposite side of the sky—although this far north, sunset wouldn’t be for hours—and her quartz’s energy level was back to a hundred percent.

  She was in a bleak highland dotted with steaming volcanic vents and large black boulders. Other than moss, the only green things were the scrubby trees and bushes dotting the riverbank. To the west, stony mountains rose like rugged giants from the ocean, white-capped and harsh.

  She caught another fish for breakfast before setting out again, her belly full for the first time since Reykjavik. An hour later, she stumbled upon a dirt track heading northeast in the same direction she was being led by her quartz. She followed the track, hiding whenever a vehicle passed, but for most of the afternoon and evening she was alone in the deserted highland.

  Dusk was approaching when her skin tingled. She was surrounded by magic. Powerful magic. She froze, heart slapping against her rib cage.

  She’d reached the ice fae court. But where was it?

  Dense steam rose from slashes in the ground, wafting over bedraggled clumps of grass and lush moss. The stench of sulfur was everywhere, overlaid by the telltale odor of silver. But the court itself had to be concealed by look-away spells, because she couldn’t see a trace of it. And probably protected by wards, as well.

  She hunkered down in a hollow between two boulders to wait. Sooner or later, a fae would enter or leave, allowing her to get a fix on a portal.

  The sun had sunk behind the mountains before her patience was rewarded. A leather-clad fae rode up on a motorbike. Tall and sharp-faced, his cropped silver hair formed a striking contrast to his ebony skin. He halted and muttered a few words in an ancient fae language before flicking his fingers.

  A portal opened, a shimmering circle cut out of the very air. He drove through and headed down the dirt track on the other side.

  Marjani crept closer. The circle contracted, preparing to close behind him.

  No. She leapt through the rapidly closing opening, landing on silent paws next to the track. The silver-haired fae was already thirty yards away, aiming for a black castle rising in the distance out of the otherworldly fog.

  Her hackles rose. She didn’t like this. It had been way too easy to get in.

  But behind her, the portal had closed, the opening erased as if it had never existed.

  She was trapped on the ice fae side.

  Chill fingers tripped up her spine. She instinctively bared her fangs. But there was nothing to fight, and panicking would only make things worse.

  Taking a deep breath, she slipped off the track into the dense white mist and examined the black castle. It appeared to have been carved out of a dead volcano, with a craggy spire at each of the four compass points. A high, crenellated wall surrounded the center, its toothy protrusions like a bear trap waiting to snap shut on an unwary intruder.

  Staying concealed in the fog next to the track, she started toward the castle. The ground was uneven, with bogs and boiling hot vents to avoid, so she had to step with care. The stench of sulfur stung her nostrils. By the time she reached the castle, the silver-haired fae had disappeared.

  But a round steel door had been left temptingly ajar.

  Fuck that. Slipping back into the fog, she slunk west around the rough black wall, picking her way through the tundra, ears pricked and eyes straining.

  High-pitched voices came from behind and to the left. She dropped to her belly, hidden by the eerie vapor. The sour stink of unwashed bodies reached her first, then two brown-skinned beings dressed in fur hats and animal skins raced by. They were about four feet high with large, pointy ears and sharp white teeth.

  Goblins.

  The female seemed to be scolding the male in an odd, chittering language.

  This close to the castle, they’d work for the court. She waited, heart pounding, until she could no longer hear them, and then continued creeping along the wall.

  She’d gone too far to turn back, even if she wanted to. She’d known when she’d left Baltimore that she might not ever see home again.

  It was worth it. Corban had to die. Adric would never be safe while he was alive.

  And she had her own reasons for wanting her cousin dead.

  Corban was inside the ice fae castle. The weird tingle in her gut told her, the tingle that signaled her strategist’s Gift—half intuition, half data-crunching. Her quartz murmured agreement, sensing the closeness of another earth fada, maybe two.

  She inched along the wall. A half hour passed. The chilly mist deepened until she couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead.

  She stumbled into a bog and got mired in the cold black muck. It sucked at her paws, dragging her deeper until she sank up to her chest. She set her jaw and grimly fought her way back to stable ground.

  She hung her head, chest heaving, her triumph at getting this far gone. She was moving in circles through the foggy night. King Sindre was an old, powerful fae with the Gift of chicanery. People said he could create illusions as real as a nightmare and use them to manipulate emotions.

  If this were a trap, he might keep her creeping along the wall for days until she starved—or gave up.

  She growled and set out again. She’d go through Hades itself to stick a knife in Corban’s black heart.

  The goblins rus
hed by again, this time in a pack of six. She dove to the left and froze as they passed like an evil wind, chittering to themselves.

  When she dared lift her head, she couldn’t see the wall—just thick fog in every direction. Dread lumped in her stomach. Digging her claws into the cold dirt, she swung her head back and forth, desperately trying to make out the black castle.

  A hint of silver and iron in the air made her lip curl in a silent snarl. Her muscles coiled in preparation. The fog coalesced, moved—and a tall blond man stood beside her.

  “Follow me,” he muttered without looking at her, his lips barely moving.

  Fane? She did a double take and hissed angrily.

  His strong dark brows snapped together. “God’s balls, woman—don’t argue. The huldufólk are looking for you.” When she gave him a blank look, he said, “The goblins and a few of the king’s tame elves. They’ll be on you any second. Now come.” He strode off.

  She hesitated, afraid it was a trap, but Fane was clearly pissed off—at her. If it were a trick, wouldn’t he at least try to exert some charm?

  And she needed to get inside. Corban was here. She was sure of that.

  She loped after him. Fane waited until she caught up, then stooped to whisper, “Shift. Most of them can’t tell a fada from a human.”

  She nodded and obeyed—and then almost didn’t make it when the cat blindsided her, fighting to remain in control.

  No. I am strong. A picture of claws and fangs flashed in her mind. I will fight these goblins.

  For several heart-stopping seconds, she wavered halfway between cougar and human. That was bad. If you got caught between shifts, you died, a twisted half-animal, half-human monster.

  If she hadn’t taken the time to replenish her quartz, she might not have made it. She drew hard on the crystals’ energy, determined to complete the shift.

  And then she was a woman, crouched at Fane’s feet, chest heaving.

  He glanced around uneasily. “Bloody hell, can you hurry it up?”

  She dragged in a breath. Holy mother, that had been close. But there was no time to think about it. Quickly, she pulled on cargo pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, not bothering with underwear or shoes.

  “Ready.” She tucked her quartz into her shirt’s neck.

  Fane wrapped a wiry arm around her shoulders. She stiffened, but he muttered, “I’m a wayfarer.”

  “So it was you following me.”

  A curt nod. “Keep touching me at all times, and they won’t see either of us.”

  He waited until she jerked her chin in assent and then set his palm to a crack in the weathered volcanic rock. The rock melted away to reveal an arched doorway. Together, they stepped through into a large tunnel.

  Marjani’s eyes widened. Instead of the black she’d expected, the curved walls were a smooth and bluish-white, like the inside of an ice cave. Silver fae lights floated near the glossy ceiling, and bright blue tiles paved the tunnel floor. The temperature was comfortable, like a warm spring day, and the air crisp and clean-smelling.

  Fane took her hand and crept forward, following the wall to the west. They passed a double door opening into a huge room at the center of the maze.

  “That’s the great hall,” he murmured.

  It was a huge, intricately-shaped hexagon that reminded her of a giant snowflake. At the center, several hundred chic, glittering fae dined at linen-covered tables. Ethereal silver chandeliers floated overhead, and ice sculptures of magical creatures were scattered here and there. From hidden speakers emanated dreamy music, intermingling with the murmur of voices and the clink of fine crystal. Through the tables moved slim, pointy-eared elves, filling glasses and ensuring no one’s plate was empty.

  Marjani’s feet slowed. Other than the few times she’d been to the sun fae court, she’d never seen so many fae in one place. Like sun fae, the ice fae’s skin came in every shade from translucent white to deep brown, but their hair was a variation on snow and ice: white, silver, blond, with the occasional shimmering gold or red. And every single one of them was model-beautiful, like Fane.

  The clothes were incredible—stylish, fae-tailored creations that would cost a year’s pay in the human world—but it was the jewels that made her stare. Ice-cube-sized diamonds. Fiery opals. Blue and purple sapphires, and chunky green emeralds.

  With his single diamond stud, Fane was a model of restraint.

  “Keep moving,” he hissed, and with a start, she realized she’d slowed down to stare.

  She sped up, moving silent as a wraith alongside him. To her amazement, no one even glanced their way. It was as if the two of them were invisible.

  They traveled another few hundred yards before reaching a short hall with several doors. Fane stopped at the end of the hall in front of a green door and ushered her inside.

  “We can talk,” he said in a normal tone as he locked the door and dropped his jacket on a chair. “The rooms are soundproof and warded. The fae don’t trust each other worth a damn.”

  He was wearing skinny black jeans and a baby blue shirt that matched his eyes. He raised his arms in a bone-cracking stretch that strained the soft material across his chest. Marjani couldn’t help taking in his body, lean and powerful in the form-fitting clothes.

  He brought his arms down. “That was too damn close.”

  “Yeah,” Marjani said, still staring at his chest.

  His lips edged up and their eyes met.

  She looked away first. “This is your room?”

  “When I’m at court.”

  “It’s…nice.” It was—a small, cozy space.

  A walnut sleigh bed with a moss-green comforter hugged one wall, and three sparkling gold fae lights floated overhead, warming the creamy walls. In addition to the plain wood chair that held his jacket, there was an easy chair with a small round table between them. Through a partially open door, she saw a bathroom with a shower and huge oval tub.

  He moved a shoulder in a half-shrug. “It suits me well enough.”

  “You don’t live here in Iceland?”

  “Gods, no. I spend as little time here as possible. I’m a quarter-fae.” His handsome mouth twisted. “They don’t treat me much better than they treat the fada. Which is why you’d better talk. Now.”

  Suddenly he loomed over her. She stared back, not betraying by a flicker of an eyelash that her heart had sped up. The friendly, easy-going man of the pub was gone, replaced by a steely-eyed fae. But she’d been threatened—and worse—by men a hell of a lot more dangerous.

  She held her ground and palmed the switchblade.

  He blew out a breath. “I’m not your enemy, Jani.”

  “No?”

  “No. In fact, I fucking stuck my neck out for you. Do you know what the goblins would have done if they caught you? They swarm over you like a pack of rats.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “You might kill a few of them, but they just keep coming, clawing and biting until you’re half-conscious and bleeding in a dozen places, and then they bind you and put you in an iron cage.”

  She swallowed. “I guess I owe you one.”

  He nodded, and she was reminded that it was never a good thing to owe a fae. But somehow, she kept forgetting that Fane had fae blood. He seemed too warm…too human. The only fae she’d known had been cold-hearted pricks, with the possible exception of Cleia, the sun fae queen.

  “You can start by telling me why you’re here.”

  He was so close she could see all the gradations of blue in his eyes—the navy rim, the silver that streaked his sky-colored irises.

  She drew a ragged breath, and his face softened.

  “Jani?” He touched her cheek.

  She jerked away and he took a step back. She released the switchblade and held it loose and ready at her side.

  “I’m not here for that,” she said evenly. But inside she was trembling. She edged toward the doorway.

  “Fair enough.”

  But his arm came up, and she dropped into a fighting crouc
h. “Back off. Or I’ll take my chances out there.”

  “Easy, love. I was just going to invite you to sit down.” He pointed to the easy chair. “Let’s have a conversation without all this snapping and snarling.”

  She growled but retracted the switchblade, although she didn’t put it back in her pocket. “Okay. Fine.”

  She needed to know more, and Fane seemed willing to help her. Shrugging out of the backpack, she sat down, the pack at her feet, the switchblade in her hand.

  Fane hung his jacket in a small walk-in closet and indicated her backpack. “Want me to put that in the closet for you?”

  “No.” She pulled it closer. If she had to leave in a hurry, the pack was coming with her.

  His mouth curved. “You’re a prickly little hedgehog, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. You have a problem with that?”

  He shrugged. “And yet I found you creeping along the outer wall with a horde of goblins after you.”

  “They didn’t find me, did they?”

  He shook his head. “By Hades, I can’t tell if you’re naïve or foolish.”

  “Not naïve.” Her flat voice made him raise a brow.

  “No, you’re not, are you?” Sympathy shaded his voice.

  What did he know? Shame twisted in her belly. She scowled.

  If this model-pretty man dared to pity her, she just might have to prick him with one of her blades. Not to hurt him—at least, not much—but to teach him that Marjani Savonett didn’t need anyone’s pity.

  But all he said was, “This isn’t your world, Jani. You might not be naïve, but you don’t know how the ice fae court works.”

  “Then tell me.”

  He took two bottles of pale ale from a cooling unit and handed her one. “How about I start by telling you why you’re here?”

  “I’m all ears.” Shoving the switchblade back into her pocket, she twisted off the cap and took a sip.

  He sat on the wood chair—or rather, sprawled, his long legs stretched out, his bottle of ale in one long-fingered hand. “To spring the big black wolf fada from his cage.”

  She jolted. “His cage?”