The Shadow Warrior Page 20

Mags nodded. “Let’s hope she’s found a way inside.”

  With a sibilant curse, Gavriel lunged to his feet and started to pace. He wished Mags would look at him like she used to, but she was busy pretending he didn’t exist, and he had no idea why things had changed. To distract himself from that puzzle, he focused on Thalia. “I tried calling her, but her phone is off.”

  Raff smirked. “If that surprises you, then you’re dumber than you look.”

  “She’s smart to run silent. There’s always a way to pick up on electronic chatter. Coming in quick and quiet offers the best chance for success,” Mags noted.

  Waiting was the worst. Gavriel didn’t know what he might’ve done, but just then, the symbols on the screen reached their target, one by one, and flared red, indicating multiple successful strikes.

  Raff let out a breath, visibly relieved. “It’s done. Only time will tell if we made a difference.”

  Gavriel grabbed the wolf lord by the shirt front, struggling to keep his temper in check. “If she falls to Gilbraith, if you let her die, I’ll kill you. I hope you know that.”

  Raff only nodded. “My life is in your hands.”

  As the hours rolled on, nobody could sustain the razor-sharp tension, and people curled up or dozed off. Others joined them in the strategy room, waiting for news. Part of Gavriel wished he’d remained ignorant—that Isoline had left him to go about his business and to learn of this secondhand, much later—but that seemed disloyal. Even so, he couldn’t quell his regret over losing the rapport he’d built with the tiger woman.

  Who still wasn’t speaking to him.

  Gavriel nodded off in a chair and woke sharply at Commander Olwyn’s words. “You need to hear this.”

  He bolted to his feet, realizing what he was listening to a few seconds later. “This is Thalia Talfayen. House Gilbraith has fallen to me, and their lands are mine. I claim, by right of conquest, the Silver Throne. You have three days to send emissaries to Daruvar to pledge fealty, or you will share this traitor’s fate. That is all.”

  “She did it,” Raff crowed.

  She’s fine without me. He shouldn’t be so relieved by that, but now there could be no question. He was free to live as he wished. The princess did not require any further service or sacrifice. Gavriel relaxed, closing his eyes to savor that realization. Then he grinned at the wolf lord, offering a small joke for the occasion.

  “Looks like you get to live, beast.”

  “I’m grateful,” Raff said, smiling.

  For the first time all evening, Mags came up to him. When she set her hand on his shoulder, his whole body eased. Without knowing it, he’d been waiting for that touch. It was too much power for one person to possess over him yet she had it and he couldn’t bring himself to mind.

  “Be careful with that word,” she cautioned softly. “I know you were kidding, but others might not. They speak it with hate, and—”

  “I won’t use it again, even in jest,” he promised.

  “It’s not enough that you see me as different. You have to be better to my people as well, you know? It’s hard for me to overcome certain prejudices too, but…” She shrugged and let the rest go without saying.

  He got the gist.

  From all around the keep, revelry echoed in the night. Music and exultant shouts suggested that the rest of Daruvar had heard the message as well, and while food might be scarce, they were tapping the wine casks. Commander Olwyn opened a decanter of good whiskey, pouring shots for everyone.

  Gavriel took his and handed one to Mags. “I’m sorry. I won’t make that mistake again. To new beginnings?”

  She hesitated only a second before clinking her glass against his. “I’ll drink to that.”

  22.

  Mags downed the drink and decided she’d had enough of being social.

  Raff and Gavriel weren’t going to end each other now that they knew the ice princess was fine. And that was her cue to bail. All over Daruvar, people were losing their minds, singing and cavorting because Thalia had finally realized her dream of becoming queen. Privately Mags thought the woman could stand to care a little more about her people and less about claiming antiquated titles.

  Whatever, it’s none of my business.

  Her promise to return to Kelnora to see Keriel and Leena held more allure than these celebrations. Not since her arrival had she felt like such an outsider, and she didn’t much care for the sensation. The Eldritch second in command signaled to the Noxblade. “Could I have a word?”

  Gavriel did give her an apologetic look as he went to join Commander Olwyn, but it didn’t change anything. He’d still half-killed poor Gray to get here fast enough, only to find there was nothing for them to do. The whole endeavor was pointless and… no. Not hurtful. Just annoying, that was all.

  She slipped out while Gavriel was talking to Olwyn and she wandered the halls, avoiding the merriment. Despite everyone else’s euphoria, Mags was in no mood to party. Slay was likely a prisoner in Golgerra by now, and she still hadn’t managed to call Callum to give him the bad news about the drug trafficking. Plus, she’d heard the workers mention a resurgence in Golgoth activity in wolf and bear lands. Things might be looking up for the Eldritch, but for the Animari, there was trouble to spare.

  Her steps carried her to the stable first, where she checked on Gray, who blustered his lips and shook his mane at her in greeting. “Hey, there. Who’s a good boy? You all right after that terrible run?”

  In response, the vedda beast nuzzled her shoulder and she indulged him with a good rub down, checking his hooves, just in case. He seemed sound enough and someone had scattered fodder for him. The other mounts reacted uneasily to her presence, shifting and stomping in their stalls, unaccustomed to predators. She ignored them and moved on, steering clear of the festivities.

  Need to charge my phone.

  She headed for the quietest corner of the fortress. Nobody was in the medical center, not even Dr. Wyeth, but he did have a charging station. Mags dropped her phone on the pad and glanced around the room. There was a cot…maybe she’d crash here for the night, as it was unlikely there would be any emergencies unless someone got super drunk and cracked his head falling down the steps.

  In the morning, she’d call Callum, keep her promise to Leena and Keriel, then she had to get back to Ash Valley. Dom would be waiting for her report, crappy as it was. Still, she figured he might be relieved too—that Slay hadn’t rolled on them over breaking up with Pru. With a weary sigh, she sank down on the cot and tried to sleep.

  Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Not because of the noise, though that was bad enough. Her own mind wouldn’t leave her alone, then an annoying Noxblade found her, hovering in the doorway like he expected an engraved invitation.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “I’ve been looking for you.” His tone was off, ragged and broken.

  “Did something happen?” She sat up then, all senses sharpening. Mags noticed that he wasn’t hesitating in the doorway. Rather, Gavriel was holding onto it, like he couldn’t walk without support.

  But she didn’t smell booze on him, at least not so much that he’d be incapacitated, and he was too careful for that anyway. Reflexively, she bounded to her feet and reached him in a few steps. When he let her put an arm around his waist, no, more than that, he wrapped an arm about her shoulders and leaned, his breath coming in sharp bursts.

  “I can’t—”

  “Okay, calm down. Sit with me for a minute. When you feel up to it, tell me.”

  He collapsed on the cot where she had been trying to sleep, falling against the wall with a thud that highlighted his weakness. With shaking hands, he offered her a letter, lips compressed so tightly that she feared he might never speak again. Her confusion mounting, Mags took the page, unfolded it, and started reading:

  My Dearest Gavriel,

  If you’re reading this, I must be gone. Please forgive my cowardice. I looked at you a thousand times and considered telling you the
truth, especially after Oriel died. If Thalia had ever shown signs of returning your affections, I would have, I swear to you. I watched and measured the situation and judged my own pain to be graver than yours. I wish I had been a better woman, but I couldn’t raise you. It wasn’t for the reasons people thought, not because your coloring was a curse, but because I wasn’t strong enough.

  Now you will learn the secret of your birth, for good or ill. Lord Talfayen was not a man to be denied when he wanted something. At one point, he wanted me. You and Oriel came of that much-despised union. It is no surprise that you have always loved Thalia; she is your half-sister. I let you serve her, just as I did, believing it to be the best for both of us.

  I don’t know if that was the right choice, but now you know the truth. I could not take this secret to the afterworld. You have a right to know. And I am deeply sorry that I could not live as your mother. I hated Lord Talfayen too much and when I saw you and Oriel, I saw him. None of it is your fault. I don’t dare hope for your forgiveness, but I wish for it nonetheless. Please be happy and find your own path, just as your sister has hers.

  Perhaps one day, you won’t hate me for giving both my sons to the guild.

  Lileth

  Somehow Mags bit back her startled exclamation, not wanting to make it worse for him. If she was shocked, he must be mentally wrecked. Going with her gut, she dropped the letter and put her arms around him. Hugs or sex, that’s what I’ve got. Hopefully, he’d want one if not the other. Slowly, he leaned in, and soon he was huddled in her arms, shivering, face tucked against her neck.

  She tried to imagine what it would be like, wondering about your family and then finding out this way. Silently, she stroked his back, marveling that he’d come looking for her when he was falling to pieces. That meant something, but she wouldn’t reflect on what, not right now. He needed her too much.

  “I did wonder. You said the birthrate was low, yet you were sent to the guild as orphans. I figured there must have been a dramatic reason why, but I never expected this.”

  “Neither did I. Oriel and I used to invent stories about who they were and why they left us. It was best when I made myself believe they must be dead—that they had no choice in the matter.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  Because he was right. It was so much worse that he’d seen his mother every day—his father too for that matter—and neither of them ever acknowledged him. Talfayen probably hadn’t known or he would’ve tried to use Gavriel as he had Tirael, pitting him against Thalia. But Lileth, she’d chosen to ignore Gavriel and let him nurse an impossible love for his damned half-sister. He must feel sick and awful, considering that devotion.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said.

  His laugh had a bitter edge, breathed against her skin. “This doesn’t feel real, but she wouldn’t leave such a thing in jest. It must be true, and…”

  “And…?”

  “I’m so fucking angry.” He spoke through clenched teeth, and Mags realized the tremors came from rage, not sorrow. “I’m the asshole who had no idea, all this time. Hell, if we’re judging by blasted Talfayen blood, I have as much right to be king, don’t I?”

  “Do you want to be?”

  “That’s not the point! Lileth stole my family from me, and what’s worse…” He got up then and paced like a caged animal. “You were right, you know. When you said Thalia was to blame as much as anyone else. We went in following her orders. My sister sent my brother off to die! How am I supposed to live with that?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Do you plan to tell Thalia the truth?”

  An urge to violence thrummed inside Gavriel like an electric current.

  When he’d first read the message, he’d only known that he might crawl out of his skin if he didn’t find Mags. Now the shock had given way to rage, and he couldn’t keep still, lurching from one side of the infirmary to the other. She watched him with concerned eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself under control. No, she’d just have to bear witness to him unraveling; it was unthinkable that it would be anyone else.

  “No,” he said finally. “She’s not my sister. She never will be. The truth is, she took Oriel from me and I’ll be damned if I acknowledge her as family because of a letter Lileth wrote in a moment of remorse. I’ve lived as an outcast. I’ll die as one.”

  “Are you sure?” Mags asked.

  “There is no doubt. I’m afraid of what I may do when I see her. None of this is her fault, but I feel as if she’s betrayed me as well, treating me like a tool when she should have known—ah, never mind. That’s not fair.”

  “Your feelings don’t have to be. Your mother discarded you for reasons beyond your control and your half-sister used you, unknowingly. You’ve been wronged, Gavriel. Nobody ever gave you the chance to make your own choices.”

  This, this was why it had to be her. Only Mags gave him the freedom to say such things. She had no loyalty to the Eldritch or to Thalia. Some of the turmoil in his head steadied, leaving him trembling again, shock or reaction, or hell if he knew what.

  “I could hate her,” he whispered. “As much as I used to love her. Now I’m just grateful that I revered her so much that I never—”

  “Yeah, I got it,” Mags cut in. “Take comfort in small mercies, I guess.”

  He ran an unsteady hand through his hair, dropping down beside her on the cot. “Turns out, Tirael was my sister too, and I never knew that either. I had two sisters, Mags, not just a brother. One sister is dead, the other is queen, and… I don’t know how to feel.”

  “No shit, low birth rates, my ass. Seems like old Lord Talfayen was quite a stallion.” She waggled her eyebrows while making an obscene gesture.

  That shouldn’t have been funny; he was such a mess, and it was so disrespectful, but suddenly he was laughing, astonished at her ability to disarm him like a ticking bomb. Some of his bleak moods, even Oriel had been unable to banish, but she was like sunshine to his storm cloud—hot, powerful, and impossible to resist.

  She gave him a tentative smile and put a hand on his head. “It’s better if you can laugh. Sometimes life is just so fucked up that it’s all you can do.”

  “You didn’t, though.”

  “What?”

  “Laugh. At the idea of your curse.” Maybe he shouldn’t bring that up, but her support made him brave, daring, even.

  “Not about what happened,” she agreed in a somber tone, glancing away.

  “Would you tell me?”

  “You want some mutual commiseration, is that it? Or you just can’t handle me knowing some shit about you without demanding equal access?”

  Gavriel had no idea how to respond but he didn’t have to. She sighed and added, “Fine, it’s not a secret, so I’ll give you the short version. A week to the day after I told Brendan I loved him, he died. In the shower.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” he said.

  “Tell me about it. The Animari don’t die of freak accidents. Even if we fall and get hurt, we heal. It’s almost unheard of for anyone to fall at precisely the right angle, crack their skull in a way that results in an aneurysm that causes instant death.”

  “But it happened to the person you loved.”

  “It broke my heart,” she said softly. “I blamed myself and wished I had taken Arran’s warning seriously. Then time wore on and I forgot a little of that feeling. As years passed, I wondered if it could have been an awful coincidence. So when Tamara came into my life, I was reluctant, but I let her persuade me.”

  Her aching tone twisted at his heart, almost to the point that he couldn’t ask, “Something happened again?”

  “A week after I told her I loved her, she was struck by lightning.”

  “To borrow your favorite phrase, holy shit.”

  She smiled, though her expression still held more sorrow than he could stand. “You can see why I don’t say that to people anymore.”

  Gavriel didn’t consider himself s
uperstitious, but the timing of the tragic instances were damned convincing. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re making my problems seem less dire.”

  “Guess a fatal curse is good for something,” she said with a lopsided smile. “Are we done talking about this? It’s not fun for me.”

  “Yes. Sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have—”

  “Nah, it’s fine. In a way, it’s nice to tell someone. Except for Arran, nobody at home knows. I did some traveling when I was younger, and everything happened away from Ash Valley. Maybe it’s misplaced pride, I’d rather be famous as a bad-ass than as the loneliest person alive.”

  “I’m honored that you trusted me.”

  She nudged him. “Seriously? You really said that.”

  Gavriel leaned against her, savoring the warmth of her body against his side. “I don’t know about you, but I’m done in. Shall we go to bed?”

  Mags blinked at him, one brow lifting in apparent astonishment. “I was planning to crash here. You can go wherever you want.”

  Why had he assumed they’d retire together? The idea of going alone…no, it was all wrong. If she wouldn’t sleep in his bed, he wanted her on the rug in tiger form. Gavriel cleared his throat. “It will be warmer in my room. You like that spot by the fireplace.”

  That’s not what I want.

  Mustering his courage, he added, “Honestly, I’d rather have you in my bed. I’m…used to you now. I sleep better when you’re there.”

  For a long moment, he feared she’d refuse. She seemed to be thinking over the suggestion. At last she said, “What’s on offer here? Your rug, your bed, or is it sex? Because we should be precise about these things.”

  “If you prefer the rug, that’s fine,” he said. “I’ve already stated my preference on sleeping arrangements. As to sex, I’m tired tonight, as it’s been a hell of a day, but tomorrow…” He wasn’t used to saying such things, and heat filled his cheeks until they felt hot enough to fry a fish. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “When we’re both rested, I want more of that.”

  Her lips twitched. “More sex, that is? Not sleep.”