Wolfsbane: 3 (Rebel Angels) (25 page)

O
h, my God. Seth. I’m unravelling. Seth!

At my side Branndair sat up, stretched, and licked my face, nibbling at my ear, his massive paws planted one on either side of me. Laughing unsteadily, I put my arms round his thick-maned neck,
burying my face in his fur. He felt ridiculously real and warm. He grunted as I clutched him, my eyelids leaden.

He lay down, letting me hug his huge body like a pillow. The beat of his wolf-heart was a soporific sound against my ear, and he stretched lazily, one paw across my body so that I lay like a cub
against its mother’s belly. My brain felt calm and it didn’t hurt any more, and my mind was in one piece.

I fell asleep before another thought had time to cross it.

Why did it irritate her so much, the sight of Laszlo and Gealach together? She’d orchestrated the match herself, and lost a good fighter over it, but for her purposes at
the time it had been worth it. She’d been sick of Laszlo’s suffocating attentions and he’d fancied the woman; he was happier with a second and more devoted lover, and that made
him more efficient. Everything she did had a purpose.
Play the long game, Kate.

And the fact that Murlainn had finally bound himself to a lover was all to the good in the end. His temporary happiness was a vile itch that one day she’d enjoy scratching.
Put up with
it, Kate.

Of course, Laszlo’s evident pleasure reminded her of Murlainn’s; that was all it was. And when she wanted the full-mortal again, he always came back to her. There was no reason to be
angry with him, but the softness and the physical longing in his eyes when he looked at Gealach. It wasn’t jealousy on Kate’s part. More... impatience. The man’s emotional
fulfilment had never exactly been part of her gameplan. Such a man was wasted on love. Perhaps she should never have indulged him. Perhaps she should have kept his edges sharp.

With a languid sigh she pushed aside her wine glass. At the far side of the hall, where the silver candlelight was faint and the shadows clustered, she knew her captains were muttering. That was
a pity, but she’d never expected it to be easy. Setting Laszlo in command over Alasdair Kilrevin had only been the first and most cosmetic of her concessions to her people’s resentful
mood. There would be more. Alasdair was not a popular man, but after all she’d had her own doubts. It was amazing how swiftly the mind of a people could sway and bend when someone brought
them successes and hope and victory.

T
ake it to the endgame, Kate.

She was their queen, and they loved her
.
More than that, she was their queen
because
they loved her. It counted for so very much. She bore it in mind when she saw Cluaran
detach himself from the small group of mutterers and approach her raised chair.

Kate tightened her fist to stop herself tapping her long nails. ‘Cluaran. You’re worried.’

Bull-necked and shaven-headed, he looked every inch a hard man, but the loss of Iolaire had wounded him deeply; what kind of a queen would she be if she took no notice of these things? Besides,
Cù Chaorach’s lover had killed Cluaran’s. She knew fierce loyalty when she saw it, and it was there in his eyes, glinting as bright as the golden torque round his throat. He took
her proffered hand, kissed it and touched it to his forehead, then stepped back a pace.

‘A few of us are concerned, Kate. There was a raid last night. Kinlaggan.’

She frowned and put a finger to her temple. ‘Remind me.’

‘The settlement thirty miles inland and north from Murlainn’s dun. Loyal to him and his rebels, but outwith his claimed lands. Two dozen fighters attacked it at dusk and killed every
man, woman and child.’

Kate shut her eyes as an expression of pain pinched her face. Then she opened them once more, gazed at him, folded her hands in her lap.

‘This raid was nothing to do with me, Cluaran. But can I help it if my followers feel passionately?’

‘Kate, they love you. But some need a firm rein.’ Cluaran’s gaze was steady on hers.
He’s loyal to me,
she thought,
but that doesn’t mean he believes
me.

‘A crime like this: it wounds me in my heart, Cluaran. I would never condone it.
Never
. Do you know who did this thing?’

‘The rumour is that Cuthag led the raid.’

Kate sighed as she rose to her feet and strode to the wall and back. ‘Cuthag is impetuous. He tries to please me. I can no more punish him with exile than I could you, Cluaran.’

‘I wouldn’t suggest such a thing.’ Cluaran kept pace at her side, urgency spilling out of him. ‘But a word from you–’

She spun on her heel and stared at him. ‘And is there proof of Cuthag’s responsibility?’

‘No, but–’

She raised a hand. Laszlo had listened to every word from his place in the shadow of the pillar, and she beckoned him with a quick sharp motion.

He was already protesting as he approached to kiss her hand. ‘Kinlaggan was nothing to do with me, Kate. Cluaran knows it.’

The two men exchanged a glance, one that was not without hostility. Interesting.

Laszlo nodded at Gealach, who was busy comparing longbows with another fighter. He raised his voice. ‘Gealach was with me last night, and we were not on the road to Kinlaggan. Isn’t
that true, Gealach?’

She nodded, raising bemused eyebrows, then returned to her discussion.

Irritation made Kate snap, ‘I never accused you, Nils. I want to ask you both. Is there proof the massacre wasn’t Murlainn’s doing?’

Both of them gaped at her. Gods, but these men were idiots sometimes. ‘
Murlainn
?’ repeated Cluaran, incredulous. ‘Murlainn wouldn’t do it. I hate the man, but he
wouldn’t.’

‘Once again, that wasn’t my question.’ Her voice dripped acid. ‘I said, is there
proof
he did not kill those children?’

This time the pair of them shook their heads, slowly. The two men’s eyes did not meet. They were not close. Would never be conspirators. Were both her loyal servants, in their way. And
even a pair as obtuse as these two could catch her meaning if she laboured it.

‘I know you both have doubts about Kilrevin,’ she told them silkily. ‘I understand your hesitation, but I ask you to trust that I have knowledge you do not have, and that I
will use it wisely and against our common enemy. Yes?’

‘Yes, Kate,’ growled Cluaran.

‘Though I wish you’d trust us with a little of that knowledge,’ muttered Laszlo.

She gave him a sharp glance. ‘As for Cuthag, my lands are extensive and my people scattered. He is loyal to me, he keeps order and enforces my law, and if my command of him has a certain
informality, it is because I trust him and I trust his fighters. That doesn’t mean I encourage brutality.’

‘Perhaps you should discourage it more,’ grunted Laszlo.

Her temper flared. ‘Look to our real enemies, gentlemen. Murlainn’s fortress is the one that harbours unlawful killers.’

‘I understand, Kate.’ There was something in Laszlo’s tone, an underlying sarcasm she did not like. And she was impatient with his hypocrisy. She understood perfectly why he
had no wish to meet the full-mortal Cuilean in the field – that stupid prophecy that said he’d meet his death only at the hands of another full-mortal – but his strategic retreats
were starting to look unpleasantly like cowardice, and that set a poor example. Perhaps it was time at last for the scales to fall from the besotted Gealach’s eyes. That might teach the man a
lesson.

She swept back her skirts and turned away from Laszlo as he returned to Gealach’s side. Cluaran she beckoned with an imperious gesture.

Truly, she hadn’t realised how angry she was until she returned to her seat, and found her fingers were trembling. This time, she let her nails tap the carved and gilded wooden arm. The
click and rhythm of them soothed her.

She thought of Cuthag, and of Alasdair, and of Laszlo; of all her loyal, living weapons. There were other kinds of weapon, of course, and love could be the finest and the deadliest. And there
were men who did not deserve happiness, however brief.

She raised her head. Cluaran waited, stoic and patient. Gods, how she admired him.

‘I shall deal with Murlainn’s boy soon,’ she said, ‘and I’ll want you there.’

He nodded, and kissed her hand, and made to turn.

‘Wait,’ she said.

He hesitated. ‘My queen?’

‘There is a sacrifice I have always known I’d have to make,’ she said. ‘Do you know what that is?’

His eyes were cautious, but very steady on hers. ‘Yes, Kate. We all know it.’

‘Then, Cluaran?’ There was the merest hint of regret in her smile. ‘Finish it now.’

‘What have you done to your hair?’ Rory stared at me as I shut the heavy oak door.

I glanced around at the traces and imprints Rory had left on his room. Books and DVDs all over the place: action thrillers and science fiction. Old film posters and unframed photos were stuck
carelessly on the wall around his bed and on the iron bedstead itself. Most were of Jed and Seth, Sionnach and Orach, but there were some dog-eared faded ones of his uncle, the dun’s last
Captain: Conal MacGregor.

Dad.
Swallowing, I looked swiftly back at Rory. He hadn’t seen my expression because he was still staring at my scalp.

I rubbed my hand across it. My hair was cut back to about an inch all over, not very expertly. I should have been wary of Eili’s skills just from looking at the state of her own haircut,
but I actually quite liked the amateurish result. I’d wanted it shorter, I’d wanted it shaved, but Eili had refused. It would give us away, she said.

‘Don’t you like it?’

Rory made a doubtful face. ‘It’s okay. But everybody’s going to wonder who died.’

‘Oh, are they?’ Turning my back on the rough photo gallery, I smiled at him.

‘Yeah, because – oh, it doesn’t matter. I kind of liked it before.’

‘Too bad.’ I gave him another smile, a more belligerent one, and raked my fingers through my hair, making it stick up in spikes.

Rory frowned and squinted at me as if reaching for a lost memory, then shook his head and shrugged. ‘Okay, okay. What’s up?’

I wandered round his room, picking up DVDs and old toys, setting them down, flipping through books. ‘Rory. Why wouldn’t your dad let you go after the baby horse? After Sionnach shot
its mother?’

Rory flopped back on his bed. ‘Wasn’t exactly a good time, was it?’

I nodded thoughtfully. ‘She’s still there, though. Foal without a mother. And us with a free morning tomorrow.’

‘Don’t start.’ He rolled onto his side, watching me. ‘I can’t go to the mere on my own.’

I let that one hang in the air. I let my lips twitch, though.

‘Your point is?’ There was an edge of anger to his voice now.

Judging I’d got the timing about right, I flopped onto the bed beside him. ‘Weird, isn’t it? I’ve seen you with everybody else’s kelpies. You can ride them
all.’

‘I’m not supposed–’ This time, his mouth closed on the objection. I wanted to applaud but I knew I’d better not; instead I left him a moment to rejig his answer and
recover his masculine pride. ‘I mean, it’s very unusual. They only answer to one person. Usually. That’s all I meant.’ His cheekbones coloured.

I nodded. ‘So the rogue one, the white one, that was an exception for you. Only because it had a foal at foot. And its foal isn’t going to be like that, is it? Especially if you get
it young, ’specially if it hasn’t got a mother now.’

‘Ahhhh... Dad didn’t think that was a good...’

‘He never took his own horse, did he? When you went out before.’

‘No. Thought it’d end up in a fight.’

‘Even if that was true, it doesn’t apply to the foal. A foal wouldn’t fight an adult horse. Another kelpie would reassure it. Probably.’

‘Not Dad’s.’ He laughed dismissively. ‘It’s a stallion. She’d run a mile.’

‘I’m not thinking of your father’s.’ I gave him a withering look.
Careful, Hannah. Careful.
‘Eili’s is a mare.’

‘Eili’s kelpie?’

Rory was visibly startled. After a moment, he shut his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with finger and thumb.

I felt the curious brush of his mind, repelled smoothly by my perfect total block. I didn’t need to See inside his head, after all. I knew he needed his father’s respect; he needed
it like he needed a heartbeat. And without any kind of telepathy I knew exactly what temptation was running through his head now, what thoughts of sweet bloodless revenge on Eili. Oh, to use her
precious warhorse to get him his own...

‘
Eili’s is a mare
,’ he repeated slowly. ‘Dad would have thought of that, if it–’

‘I sometimes wonder if your father wants you to have that much independence.’

For a moment I thought I’d timed it wrong, gone too far and too fast. Rory’s face hardened and his eyes narrowed. I was just beginning to curse myself in the foulest inward terms
when he sat up straight, fists clenched in the bedclothes.

‘I sometimes wonder that too.’

And that was when I knew I had him.

I woke with a sneeze, wolf-hair in my nostrils. The smell that clung to them was Branndair’s fur and his strong carnivorous breath, but it wasn’t unpleasant and I
didn’t want to pull away from him. My arms tightened around his neck as his warm tongue lashed my cheek.

‘I thought you didn’t like him,’ I heard Seth say. ‘And now I’m all jealous.’

Reluctantly I pushed Branndair off and sat up, yawning. Seth was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, fighting the slight smile that tugged at his mouth.

‘So.’ I jiggled my eyebrows. ‘Which one of us are you jealous of ?’

‘Ha, ha.’

‘It’s morning,’ I said blearily as Faramach clambered onto my forearm and gave Branndair a raucous piece of his mind. ‘Was that you in my head last night,
Faramach?’ I tickled the spiky feathers at his throat. ‘Thanks, pal.’ I looked him not quite in the eye, a little shy after sharing his eerie raven-mind in the night.

‘I have the feeling I’ve been ganged up on,’ said Seth, rubbing his temple hard with a forefinger. ‘I didn’t drink that much.’