Charmed Wolf Page 21

  Chapter 39

  My breath caught. This was the reason the Guardian had always been intrigued by children? Not maternal instinct, but a realization that the young served as useful bargaining chips?

  I lunged for Kale, but the hall was spinning around me and beneath me. When I caught my balance, the twenty feet that had separated me and the Guardian a moment earlier was now fifty. Dozens of fae sat, stood, and lounged at a long wooden table that blocked me from her.

  The chain around my neck, however, had disintegrated. So I guessed that was a good thing.

  Not so good, though, when Kale and Hazel remained at the center of attention. “Children?” The Queen’s voice was as sharp as broken glass. “You think children will make up for your treason? You’ve been gone a long time, girl. I’ve borne children of my own and dismissed both of them. They were boring.” She leaned forward, considering the new addition to her household. “You, on the other hand, will amuse me for a very long time.”

  “Your Majesty,” the Guardian started, only to go silent as the Queen turned to face me.

  “Her name.”

  And now the Guardian laughed. “Tara doesn’t know my true name. No one knows my true name.”

  To be entirely honest, she was right about the first part. But not about the second.

  And I didn’t feel any need to be entirely honest, not here in the midst of so many fae.

  “Oh?” This time, when I paced forward, the Queen didn’t stop me. That dratted table lay in my way, though, and I didn’t want to lose sight of either the Queen or the Guardian long enough to go around it. Instead, I nudged aside a fae who looked more human than the others then used that gap to vault up onto a platform of my own.

  Now I was forty feet away from the kids rather than fifty. Still too far to help them physically. I could only hope my buddy’s oversized brain would kick in fast.

  “Kale told me your name,” I continued, raising my eyebrows at the twelve-year-old. Because he’d need to be the one to speak the Guardian’s true name. Latin tended to slip right out of my head.

  “I did?” Kale’s brows drew together. But before he could jump to any conclusions, the Guardian slapped him.

  “Silence!” Then her eyes narrowed. “And you, Alpha-wannabe. You’d better stay on my good side if you want my assistance with your pack mates. You won’t get far without me, not as blind as you are.”

  “Blind?” My feet sent bowls rattling off the table as I stalked down its length, aiming for the Guardian. But I didn’t look down and the fae didn’t stop me. Drama, it appeared, worked in my favor. Anything that broke the boredom, it appeared, would be allowed.

  “Yes, blind.” The Guardian grabbed Kale, pulling him close in a parody of an embrace. “All your life, you’ve avoided seeing what was right in front of your nose. You missed the way I designed the system for my own benefit, splitting mate duties between the Consort—a brood mare—and the Beta—for sexual gratification. You’ve lived with the result since birth and never guessed.”

  The toe of my boot caught on a fae elbow. That, I told myself, was the only reason I stumbled. Not because of what the Guardian was telling me.

  Was it true that Willa had been my father’s lover? How would that rewrite my entire understanding of the past?

  “And your little Ash,” the Guardian continued. “He craved to slot himself”—her words reeked with innuendo—“into the Beta role.”

  I swallowed. I’d thought I knew my pack, but perhaps the Guardian was right. Perhaps I did need help. I’d never guessed any of this....

  “You’ve burned so many bridges,” the Guardian continued. “But I’ll help you rebuild. Bring me back to your earth and it will be just like before, only better.” Her voice hardened. “Say my true name, though, and I’ll slice this girl’s throat.”

  The dagger Kale had used to send the Guardian back to Faery was in the fae’s hand now. But Kale was less shellshocked than I felt.

  “I’m a boy,” he growled, sounding just like one of my wolves at their most territorial. “And you can’t mess with Tara’s mind. She’s a better leader with both arms tied behind her back than you’d ever be.”

  I blinked, the Guardian’s haze lifting. Well, part of it. My mind, I realized, had been muddled for my entire life by catering to a fae parasite. All week, I’d been hunting someone charmed by the fae, but the most charmed wolf had been myself.

  I needed to rid myself of the final remnants of that charm, but I needed more to get out of Faery and back to my pack. And that required Kale spitting out Latin without the Guardian realizing he knew her true name.

  So I re-channeled the conversation. “Kale is a boy,” I confirmed, starting with the obvious. “He’s a devoted brother and an excellent phytobiologist.”

  In reaction, Kale’s eyebrows drew together. He was used to me standing up for his preferred pronouns, but not to me using fancy scientific terms.

  Come on kid. I widened my eyes briefly, then drew the Guardian’s attention back to me to give him time to think.

  “And you’re nothing more than a flimflam artist,” I continued. “I won’t bind myself to you. In fact, I hereby rescind any connection between us that might still exist.”

  There. The last haze cleared as a tether I hadn’t even realize existed slid out of my gut like a root releasing itself from the shadowy recesses beneath a boulder.

  “You,” the Guardian spluttered.

  Around us, the Court tittered. “This is amusing,” the Queen hummed. “Our pet was right.”

  Unfortunately, the Guardian still had one very solid weapon. Her grasp on Kale tightened, the tip of the knife sliding down to menace the baby. “This is your final chance to bring me with you back to earth.”

  I had no cards left to play. I opened my mouth to make one up anyway.

  And Kale spoke. His voice was high and clear when he spat out the Latin I’d been trying to guide him toward. “Veronica, let us go!”

  VERONICA. RIGHT. That had been the Latin name I was grasping for. The one linked to the little blue flowers dotting the Whelan forest, the flowers our Guardian imbued with unearthly beauty. She used to pout whenever we crushed any type of blossom, but if we dared to step on one of the Veronicas she blew her lid.

  Plus, Kale had been kidnapped by the icy wind hours after pointing out the uniqueness of my flower patch. Coincidence? I thought not.

  For half a second, though, I doubted my guesswork. Or Kale’s guesswork. Maybe he’d used the wrong Latin?

  The air hung heavy. The hall was silent.

  Then...it worked.

  Veronica didn’t just release Kale, she flung him off the table. Not in my direction, unfortunately. The other way.

  The boy landed on his knees, barely catching himself from falling flat with his free hand. Cradled in the crook of his other elbow, the baby started to cry.

  Hazel’s wail didn’t send me fleeing the way it usually did. Now that I wasn’t being forced to commit to having an unwanted child of my own, my friend’s infant didn’t look nearly so sticky.

  Perhaps there was a small silver lining to having the fae I’d thought was protecting our pack turn out to be our nemesis. Unfortunately, I didn’t dare take my eyes off Veronica long enough to comfort either child, not when she’d leapt from her table onto mine.

  She was so close I could smell her. “So you did guess,” she growled, dancing daintily through obstacles I’d tripped over. “I thought you were too stupid to put two and two together.”

  “I was too stupid,” I agreed, motioning surreptitiously toward the door with the hand shielded by my body from the Guardian. Because that was the one benefit to Kale being flung in that direction. He was close enough to creep toward escape while all fae eyes fixated on me.

  Only, would Kale see the door I’d come in through? Would he have the strength left to obey even if he understood my finger twitching?

  I could only chatter, keeping Veronica’s attention while hoping for twelve-year-o
ld resilience. “Once I met your sister,” I told her, “I learned your parents were gardeners. Naming you after a plant made more sense.”

  “My sister?” Veronica’s eyes blazed as blue as her floral namesake. “The weakling? This is her doing?”

  Veronica was so close to me now that her perfume was a physical presence. Like the scent of her flowers, light and barely present. What must it be like to be born an inconspicuous weed then spend your life masquerading as a rose?

  Not fun, but that didn’t mean Veronica had to turn into a monster. I gestured again, hoping Kale was paying attention.

  Then the Queen’s voice intervened at long last. “Your sister isn’t responsible, Veronica. You are. You disappoint me.”

  Veronica spun to face her monarch. “I’ve done all of this for you, Your Majesty! I wanted to bring beauty to your Court.”

  As the Guardian begged, I finally dared to glance at Kale. The kid was far stronger than he believed he was. In the seconds my attention had been elsewhere, he’d bounced back from his fall, had quieted the baby, and was now creeping around watching fae and toward our only avenue of escape.

  Unfortunately, the door was fading. The Queen was fulfilling her portion of our bargain...even though doing so at this moment meant she was also trapping me, Kale, and Hazel on the wrong side.

  Meanwhile, the Queen’s voice filled the hall. “Beauty is far less entertaining than pain, child. Veronica, show your true face.”

  The hall erupted into a cascade of laughter that ran the gamut from tinkling bells to donkey braying. But I was too intent upon sliding through the crowd to pay attention. Wrapping my arm around Kale’s shoulder, I swiped one last fingerful of blood off my neck.

  “Rune,” I murmured, trying to draw upon our connection.

  But I’d severed that tether personally. No wonder the door knob slipped through my fingers, physical for one split second before fading into a mirage.

  This wasn’t working. It wasn’t going to work.

  Well, not for me at least. “Kale,” I bit out, “think about Rune.”

  His lips quivered. He was only twelve years old and he’d just stabbed someone then been drawn into the Unseelie Court where he was promptly misgendered and threatened with a dagger. I couldn’t expect him to focus. I’d have to think of another solution....

  But Kale sniffed one teary sniff. Then he acted like a man.

  Like a man—someone brave enough to overcome his own fears in order to help another. He leaned against the door, as nonchalant as Rune had taught him to be.

  And the tiniest whiff of persimmon erupted around him. For a split second, Rune’s presence was palpable.

  Then the door opened behind Kale’s back.

  Chapter 40

  I leapt through, pushing both children before me. Veronica screamed, but I didn’t glance back to see what awful face had been revealed by the use of her true name.

  Instead, I hugged the children tight as we tumbled through frigid darkness. I protected them with my body as we thudded to the ground.

  We lay there, all together, for one long moment. The baby wriggled, protesting being sandwiched between us. But I didn’t let go until Kale said, “I can’t feel my hand.”

  That got me moving. I unfolded, perching the baby on my knee while I manipulated Kale’s joints. “Which hand? Is it broken?”

  His mouth quirked into a Kale smile. “No, dummy. You were lying on it. It’s asleep.”

  Never had I been so glad to be insulted. “Alright then. I’m not lying on it now. Feel free to wake it back up.”

  Children safe, I moved on to the next step—getting them home. Because one glance proved we were within Erskine’s stone circle, neither fully on the human earth nor fully in Faery. The door was gone, but I didn’t particularly want to return to Faery anyway.

  The more troubling absence was Rune’s brother. Hopefully he was within earshot. In the past, he’d always been willing to come when I called....

  I whistled, which started the baby crying. “Give her to me,” Kale suggested.

  And even though I wanted to, I shook my head and did what he’d asked—I treated him like a man. “I can’t be sure you’re fully uncharmed yet. Until then, I should hold her.”

  Hold the baby whose wailing now resembled nothing so much as a shrieking teakettle. I expected Kale’s face to crumble at my rejection, but instead he offered advice. “Try jiggling her. No, not like that.”

  “How then?” I started dancing in an awkward circle. Surely this was how Natalie had acted the last time she’d soothed the baby?

  “Yeah, you definitely need some kind of parenting school,” Kale muttered. Then he started to sing.

  His treble voice stilled the air...and the baby. It also helped me with my efforts to attract Erskine. Because Kale’s resilience did what all of my blinking hadn’t managed—it brought honest tears to my ears.

  Kale noticed. “What are you doing?”

  I stayed leaned over for one more moment, making sure my tears fell onto moss rather than resting uselessly on my cheeks. Then I answered: “I’m calling the unicorn.”

  The unicorn who’d chosen earth over Faery. Who, I now suspected, was no longer able to cross over and collect us from this space Between.

  Time for a subject change. “Are you hungry?”

  Kale shook his head. “A little tired, maybe.”

  “Then rest,” I suggested. Suiting actions to words, I settled down into the moss, leaning against one of the towering stone pillars. Kale, though, continued prowling above me, hands clenched into fists.

  Now it was my turn to ask, “What are you doing?”

  “I have to protect you. I’m a man.”

  I sighed. Veronica had done a number on him.

  So even though I wasn’t used to this touchy-feely stuff, I dug deep and came up with an answer. “You’re already a man, Kale. The grace and strength with which you’ve transitioned. The way you take care of your little sister. The way you protect me from her vomit.”

  His mouth quirked up a little at the last bit. “You noticed that, huh?”

  “How could I not notice? You’ve saved me more times than I can put a number on.” I patted the moss beside me. “How about you let me return the favor by taking first shift?”

  Kale considered my suggestion for one eye blink. Another.

  Then he settled down beside me. “Okay. Wake me up when it’s my turn.”

  KALE WAS ASLEEP BY the time he hit the moss. This in-between place might not allow human bodies to feel hunger or exhaustion, but the kid was emotionally wrung out by what had happened. His brain needed a break.

  So I hugged him against one side of me and cuddled the baby against the other, hoping against hope that being Between also meant Hazel wouldn’t feel the urge to exude liquids from any orifice. Then I watched the sky and pondered how to get home.

  The sun wasn’t moving, I realized, after what felt like an eternity but was likely an hour. Or maybe zero seconds. After all, as Erskine had told me, time flowed strangely in Faery.

  Using that logic, if we were Between and the sky was in Faery...the earth must lead home. The question became, how to get there?

  The stone circle—as best I could tell without turning far enough to wake the baby—contained no loose rocks. We could use my daggers to dig with, but I doubted their blades would last long when turned to excavation. Perhaps....

  When the ground slumped ten feet away from me, at first I thought I was imagining things. Maybe that one area had always been six inches lower? Maybe my eyes needed a nap?

  The second time the ring of earth indented—two feet lower this time—I shook Kale awake. “Grab a dagger.”

  Not that two daggers would do much against something that could move such a tremendous volume of earth. I’d seen Rune’s battle against the Guardian’s forest and it hadn’t been pretty. No wonder Kale’s voice was tremulous when he asked, “Is fighting huge monsters you can’t see part of being a man?”
>
  “It’s part of being a family,” I told him. Then, after a moment of consideration: “I’ve changed my mind. You hold Hazel.”

  We transferred the baby gingerly, knives in our spare hands. Gently, slowly, didn’t want to wake her....

  “Aaaaaa!” Hazel shrieked as the earth exploded upwards five feet away.

  I spun, pulling the children into my arms just like I had when we fell out of Faery. Stones rattled against stones around us. Soon, I’d need to swivel back around to face the danger, but I didn’t dare release Kale and the baby just yet....

  Then I smelled something I thought I’d never smell again. The man who shouldn’t have risked his skin by coming so close to Faery. “I think we should get out of here,” Rune rumbled behind my back.

  My mouth was dry as I released the children and turned to face him. Rune’s presence meant rescue but his shoulders were a little too straight, his mouth a little too firm. An invisible wall seemed to have built itself between us.

  So I merely stated the obvious. “You came.”

  “Of course I came. It was my duty.”

  Duty? I winced even as Natalie clambered up out of the gaping hole in the earth. The hardhat strapped to her head was crooked and she appeared to be holding a stick of dynamite in her dominant hand.

  “Mom!” Kale cried, sprinting forward. “I’m so sorry I took Hazel into Faery. I’m grounding myself for a year. I’m....”

  “You’re safe,” Natalie murmured into her son’s forehead. “That’s all that matters.”

  As she spoke, she drew the boy in closer than I’d been able to. So that’s what a maternal hug looked like. With her other arm, she gathered Hazel up against her breast.

  Something pinged in my gut at the sight. The first inkling that I, myself rather than duty, might crave a family. Not a baby exactly. But I wanted more than to be an Alpha, always above and apart.

  Shaking away the yearning, I focused on the moment. “I take it,” I said, not expecting to be heard over the joy thrumming between Natalie, Kale, and Hazel, “that this is my second strike and I’m losing my place on your babysitting roster.”