Beguiled (34 page)

He was worried he might have destroyed the very thing he’d sought to build.

Had he ruined whatever chance he and Maggie might have had together?

“You did what was right for Otherworld,” Quinn intoned darkly.

Lowering the blade again, Culhane looked at his oldest friend. “Aye. I did. But now I find that Otherworld doesn’t matter to me as much as one redheaded former human does.”

Quinn sighed and nodded with great solemnity. “I understand completely.”

“There’s something else you should know.”

Quinn waited for him to continue.

“I told her about Leah.” His former wife’s name had come back to him late the night before. He refused to feel badly about forgetting it, either. Leah had not been his love. She’d been tall and strong and the perfect mother for his son. That was all. And during the time they had been joined, she’d made his life a constant misery with her eternal complaints and demands. The moment their union had dissolved, Culhane had felt as though he’d been pardoned from his own personal Casia.

“That was so long ago, what could it matter?” Quinn countered, and Culhane took consolation in the fact that his friend knew his human lover no better than he himself did.

“I told her about Devon as well.” He frowned to himself. “That is how I found out about him and Eileen.”

“She should know about your son. He will be a fine warrior one day. And I am . . . proud he has seen how pure of heart Eileen is.”

Culhane smiled to hear his friend try to recover from his first reaction to the thought of Devon seeing Eileen. “Yes. He is a fine warrior.” He didn’t see Devon much. It was the way of the Warrior clan. Those in training lived separate lives, away from their older brothers and fathers, so that they might learn and grow in seclusion. Training the younger fighters was all-important to the continued safety of Otherworld.

“Maggie will ‘get over it,’ as the humans say,” Quinn said cautiously.

“I wonder,” Culhane murmured, then looked at his friend again. “Maggie also knows that you and Nora are married as well.”

Quinn laughed until his shoulders shook and the booming sound of his laughter rose up and seemed to echo off the high walls surrounding the training field. When he finally stopped to breathe, he shook his head and said, “That is no matter. Nora will be pleased to hear of it.”

Culhane wasn’t convinced of that. Privately, he thought that his friend was going to discover that he knew his human woman as little as it seemed Culhane knew his.

“Married?” Nora looked at Maggie, then laughed. “No, I’m not.”

“Uh-huh.”

It had been a long morning already and Maggie had been in no shape to face it.

Her eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep. She’d been up all night, staring out the windows at the world that she’d chosen to call home. She’d even briefly considered changing her mind. Running back to the world she knew, the house she loved, the life she understood.

But that hadn’t lasted long.

Maggie figured any woman in her position would have thrown herself a little pity party. And she had thoroughly enjoyed hers. All that had been missing were the party hats. She had a good cry, kicked a few pieces of furniture, then planned sweet, savory revenge on Culhane, even though she knew she wouldn’t go through with it.

What would have been the point? The big jerk didn’t even think he’d done anything wrong. Nothing wrong. Marry her. Use her to rule Otherworld. Make a baby, then dissolve their marriage and eventually forget her name as he had his first wife’s—all while still holding a key to the throne through their child.

And he was already a father and hadn’t bothered to tell her that, either.

It was about then that she decided she wasn’t giving up. Wasn’t running away. She’d made her call. Moved her family and accepted her life in Otherworld. So now all she had to do was forget Culhane before he had the chance to forget her.

Shouldn’t be too tough, she had assured herself. All it would take was a few hundred years. Surely by then, she’d stop remembering how he made her body burn. How he laughed in the night. How he looked at her and made her feel invincible. How he . . . Damn it.

“Maggie,” Nora said with sympathy, “you’re just tired.”

“Oh, I really am.” She’d come downstairs that morning to discover that there were literally
hordes
of Fae waiting for an audience with the Queen. And though she’d really wanted Culhane at her side to help explain everything, she’d ended up muddling through on her own.

She’d solved disputes, heard complaints and granted favors. When the crowd had finally dispersed, she’d met with Ailish of the female guard and assured her that she hadn’t forgotten her promise to have them join the warriors.

And that had all been before lunch.

This queen business was a lot more involved than she’d counted on.

When starvation had finally sent her in search of food, she’d found Nora sitting alone in the dining hall.

It was an actual hall, too, not a room. The table alone could have easily sat fifty people. The place was cavernous, though it was a lot less stark than it had been the day before. The table was now light oak. The sideboard running along one wall was made of the same wood and the matching chairs were covered in bright swatches of silk in all the colors of Maggie’s painting palette. The ceiling, at least two stories overhead, was painted much like Sanctuary’s ceilings, with an elaborate mural of Otherworld and life in the palace.

Maggie told herself that now that she was getting better at flying, as soon as she had an extra minute—if ever—she was going to fly on up there and examine the painting more carefully.

But for now . . .

“Trust me on this, Nora,” she said, draining the last of the coffee in her cup and wishing for more, “you’re as married as I am.”

Nora chuckled. “Quinn and I have actually talked about this and he said something about this but I didn’t pay any attention. Maggie, I would know if I was married or not.”

“Yeah,” she mused, “you’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

Nora smiled at the Fae server who brought two silver urns to the table—one with coffee, one with a Fae version of tea. And when he was gone again, Nora poured herself a cup of that tea, leaned back in her chair and gave Maggie a superior, I’m-the-older-sister-who-is-much-smarter-than-you smile. “Honey, did you and Culhane have another fight?”

“Oh, you could say that.” Maggie poured more coffee and nibbled on something that tasted a lot like Bezel’s famous Tarkian pot roast. “If you consider the Second World War a scuffle. Or I know, maybe the Revolutionary War was a spat. Yeah, that’s about right.”

“So, what did he do this time?” Nora asked, still smiling that older-sister-superiority smile.

“Oh, where do I start?” Maggie asked, sipping at her coffee. “How about with . . . you know the Fae boy who sneaked off with Eileen?”

“Yes . . .”

“Culhane’s son.” Maggie nodded as Nora’s jaw dropped.

“He has a son?”

“Oh yeah. Along with an ex-wife whose name escapes him at the moment.”

“That bastard,” Nora said, in complete supportive mode now. “And he just dropped this on you all at once?”

“He really did.” Maggie nodded and drank more coffee. “Then he said we should make a baby.”

“A
baby
?”

“Uh-huh,” Maggie took yet another gulp of coffee and with a grateful sigh let the heat slide through her system. “Said as long as we’re married, we might as well have a child to you know, secure my spot on the throne.” She paused and gave Nora a wry smile. “It was all
very
romantic.”

“Unbelievable!” Outraged, Nora demanded, “He wants to have a baby with you so he can keep one hand on the throne?”

“Just how I put it, thank you. And yes.”

“And just when did this marriage take place?” Nora was hot now and getting hotter by the second. “Did you ask him that? Because I don’t remember a church or a priest or buying a new dress and eating cake!”

“This is why we’re sisters! That’s exactly how I felt!” Maggie slapped one hand on the table and her coffee cup jumped in its saucer. “He didn’t even
ask
me, Nora. Just said the magic words and made me a wife. Just boom. Like he was ordering Thai takeout. I’m telling you, I was so mad I could hardly see straight. He didn’t get it, of course. Idiot. What kind of person just
marries
somebody without even mentioning it? That’s what totally pisses me off. Well, that and all the ‘Gee-I-forgot-I-used-to-be-married-and-did-I-mention-I- have-a-son?’ ”

“And completely understandable,” Nora said.

“No proposal. No ceremony. No priest, or white—er, beige—dress, no
cake
. I’m still pissed.”

“Who could blame you?” Nora commiserated.

“So let me ask you something now.”

“What?”

Maggie watched her sister and asked, “In all your time together, has Quinn ever said something like, ‘With this mating I claim you’?”

Nora actually blushed, squirmed uncomfortably in her chair and answered, “A little personal, don’t you think?”

“Please. So, has he?”

Nora smiled a little. “If you must know, yes. But how did you know?”

“Mazel tov,” Maggie said, lifting her coffee cup in a toast. “You’re as married as I am.”

As Nora spewed her sip of tea and sputtered a list of curses that were both inventive and colorful, Maggie sat back in her chair and smiled to herself.

Turned out, misery really
does
love company.

Mab felt the rush of new power filling her as she walked into the main room of the tavern and sent her gaze searching over the faces of those clustered there. She’d killed another rogue Fae just outside and the raw flood of Fae energy sizzled inside her. Heat from the fire and the closely packed bodies of the ostracized Fae made the temperature nearly unbearable.

But she forbore.

All was coming together now.

Soon, she would be back in her rightful place as Queen and the mortal world would be crushed beneath the invading hooves of the rogue Fae. There would never be another human trying to take from Mab what was hers alone.

She spotted Corran standing to one side of the multitude. A part of the crowd and yet separate. Even the other rogue Fae chose to distance themselves from him. And who could blame them?

The dark emptiness of his eyes worried even Mab, but she was willing to strike a deal with the darkest of her brethren.

She moved through the crowd, silently pleased as those in her way melted back, making way for her. As it should be. Even most of those she’d sentenced to this dismal prison still held enough innate fear of her to leave her alone.

The others? Those who sneered at her, or worse, cursed her to her face and threatened revenge at some future date? They would be dealt with when she was once again on the throne. She would burn this world of ice and everyone in it. She would turn it into ash and laugh at the spectacle.

Corran’s gaze locked on her as she neared him and even from a distance, Mab felt a chill snake along her spine. But she refused to allow him to see her reaction to him. Instead, she straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin and gave him the small, regal smile she’d perfected centuries ago.

When no more than a foot or two of space separated them, he inclined his head ever so slightly. A smirk curved his delectable mouth. “My Queen.”

Mab stifled the spurt of insult she felt at his words. He was taunting her, she knew. He had no real regard for her. But he was willing, as was she, to use whatever weapon lay at hand to help him take what it was he wanted.

All around them, raucous voices rose into a wild chorus of untamed gratification. Liquor flowed like water, clashing music tried to drown out the crowd and the harsh light threw nightmarish shadows on the walls. It was a hideous place and Mab resented every moment she was trapped there. But at least she knew she could speak in this crowd without being overheard.

She moved in next to Corran until they were standing side by side. Cold seeped from his body into hers and Mab fought the resulting tremors that rattled through her.

“I have news,” she said, smiling through the cold and the misery. At least something was working well. Her spies had kept her informed of everything that was happening in the great city. At
her
palace.