Chained Soul by Eva Chase
12
Whitt
When word comes at night that our rat of divided loyalties has returned to us, Sylas has him escorted to one of the meeting rooms in the castle of Hearth-by-the-Heart. We want our privacy for the discussion to come, but none of us wants the Murk man in the same building as Talia if we can help it.
The fact that he’s returned so quickly, and not leading an army—at least not any we’ve spotted so far—bodes well. No Murk has acted on the bait Donovan arranged, a stray comment one of his pack-kin ensured Madoc overheard about a vulnerable town we’re supposedly relying on for weapons, so it appears the rat shifter didn’t pass that information on to his king. But I’m hardly going to throw caution to the wind.
Corwin and one of his older coterie men, Verik, join the three of us in the broad room with its gleaming wooden table, the two Unseelie looking a little out of place in the summery space. August, Astrid, and a couple others of Corwin’s people have remained back in the border castle along with the usual assortment of guards. I kissed Talia good night there just an hour ago.
Madoc comes in escorted by four of our pack warriors. He looks a bit peeved about the level of security we’re still enforcing, but he should just be glad that we arranged a signal for him to use to alert us that he was arriving, so it’d be our warriors going to bring him in and not Celia’s or some other more hostile lord who might not care for the deal we made.
The rat shifter sits down at the end of the table we’ve left open for him. The guards hesitate behind his chair, glancing at Sylas for instruction. Even when he waves them off with a thank you for their service, they appear to balk momentarily before leaving us alone.
But I think two arch-lords and one near true-blooded fae are up to dealing with one Murk, no matter how good he is with illusions. I’ve already cast a spell that’s now subtly humming through this space that will warn us if any magic is enacted by anyone other than the three of us.
“You returned quickly,” Sylas says, leaning his elbows on the tabletop where he’s sitting a few feet from the rat shifter. He keeps his tone as even as always, his expression a mask of authoritative confidence, but I recognize the keenness in his eyes. He’s as eager as I am to hear what news our theoretical ally has brought from his fellow vermin.
“Yes,” Madoc says, his gaze sliding from one to another of us before settling back on Sylas. He flexes his hands as if confirming that they’re not bound. “During my assignments, I typically spend long periods of time in this realm with only brief trips back to report to Orion. I couldn’t linger in the Refuge for long without him questioning it. I told him that the curse had started to act on Talia and that all of the fae were concerned, because that’s what he’d want to hear, and he sent me back here to monitor how the situation progresses.”
He pauses, and his gaze darts around the table again. The wary edge leaves his voice. “Is she still all right? I’d hoped—is she not well enough to leave her room?”
He expected Talia to be here when we spoke with him. I suppose that’s not surprising, seeing as she played by far the largest role in making this deal happen. I can’t stop a little dryness from creeping into my tone when I respond. “She’s perfectly well at the moment, other than future concerns, but seeing as it’s the middle of the night, she’s asleep. You aren’t so important that we were going to disturb her rest just because you showed up.”
I anticipate a sharp reply, but instead Madoc looks a bit chagrinned. He does care about my mate in his own odd way, doesn’t he? I’m not totally sure what to make of that or how to feel about it.
“Of course,” he says. “I wasn’t thinking—we’re typically awake all night and sleeping most of the day unless there’s something specific to take care of.” His jaw works. “What exactly does ‘perfectly well’ mean? Has she had any more bad spells from the curse?”
The three of us exchange a glance over the table, debating how much to tell him. Corwin clears his throat, and I figure he’s the most cautious of us, so I’ll accept whatever he feels is an acceptable level of detail.
“She’s had two more fits since you left,” he says. “They seem to come over her relatively briefly about once a day, though the timing hasn’t been at all predictable.” He stops there, and from the shadow that crosses his face, I suspect he’s remembering how she crumpled during our dinner together in the joint castle just hours ago.
“Were you able to learn anything more about the curse in the short time you spent back in the Refuge?” Sylas asks, bringing us back to the most important subject. “I assume you have something to share with us, or you wouldn’t have announced your arrival.”
Before he even speaks, the twist of Madoc’s mouth reveals that he hasn’t got much. “I thought it’d be best if I came straight to you in case there’s any way I can contribute. Orion will think it’s strange if I return home again too quickly with no major news, so I might as well be here offering what I can.” He exhales roughly. “I did press him as much as I felt I could get away with about the nature of the curse. He indicated that the pattern you’ve seen of short attacks and then seeming recovery was normal. It’s his way of jerking around your hopes.”
“Wonderful,” Sylas mutters. “Anything else?”
“He seems very sure that nothing you could attempt to cure her with will work,” Madoc says grimly. “Which is another reason it seems better for me to be here than wandering around accomplishing nothing. He thinks the Seelie and the Unseelie don’t have the powers or knowledge, but he doesn’t know there are any Murk willing to help.”
How much is he here because he doesn’t want to see Talia suffer and how much because he’s worried that if he can’t come up with some other cure, we’ll find a way to destroy his false Heart, the source of his people’s magic? I could tell how much that means to him from his protest about destroying it.
I suppose his motivations don’t really matter as long as we can make her well again in the end.
Corwin’s head droops for a moment, and I can’t help feeling a pang of sympathy for the man who’s experiencing Talia’s curse nearly as vividly as she herself is. He knows exactly how much agony it’s already put her through.
“It’s true that none of our attempts so far have appeared to make any difference to her condition,” he says. “Nor have we been able to work with the barrier magic you mentioned to prevent the fits—as you suggested, the curse appears to be in too close contact with her essential organs to be sectioned off.”
Madoc frowns. “I wish I was better at the healing arts myself. This far from my own Heart… And we can’t exactly call on the Murk medics I know.”
He halts there, and his gaze goes momentarily distant. My senses spring to the alert. He shakes himself and doesn’t add anything to that thought, but he was obviously remembering something relevant. I file that knowledge away for later.
“What about your king’s preparations for war?” I ask. “Did you get a sense of how soon he intends to move on us?”
Madoc inclines his head. “He’s continuing to stockpile equipment and gather as many Murk as are willing to fight. He hasn’t mentioned any specific plans to launch an attack soon. From what he’s said, I believe he’s waiting until Talia’s curse has gotten significantly worse—or perhaps even reached its… end. So that you’ll be distracted by your worries or your grief.”
My lips curl back at the vileness of the strategy. We’re working on a timeline directly connected to Talia’s wellbeing, then. Keep her well, stave off the war.
If only it were so easy.
“Well, at least we don’t have to be concerned about an immediate offensive,” I mutter.
Madoc turns to the arch-lords. “I also know that Orion is trying to make it as painful as possible for you to intrude on the human world. He’s had sentries observing the portals your patrols are most frequently coming through and has put out the word that any Murk who can bring back the heads of fae of the Mists will be well-rewarded. If you want to protect your people, you may want to stick to defending your borders on this side of the divide.”
Corwin gives him a pointed look. “Which would also mean it’d be much harder for us to keep track of most of the Murk activity ourselves.”
Madoc spreads his hands. “I can only tell you what I know. It’s up to you what you do with the information. If you think it’s worth getting into who knows how many skirmishes and potentially losing a bunch of your soldiers before the war’s even really begun, have at it.”
I think of August returning from his foray in Munich with the corpses of several loyal warriors and wince inwardly.
“We’ll discuss the best strategy in more detail among ourselves,” Sylas says. “Do you have anything more to add?”
“Those are the only things I picked up that I thought might be useful to you,” Madoc says. “If I notice anything while I’m here that makes me think I have other information that’s relevant, I’ll tell you then.”
My brother looks as if he’s restraining a frown, but he simply nods and pushes back his chair. “Then I’d suggest we all get some sleep of our own and discuss the situation further in the morning—at which point you can also speak to Talia, as I’m sure she’ll want to see you. I’ve set up a small cabin for your use in my domain. I hope you’ll understand that for the time being we’ll continue to have it guarded and magically secured when none of us is around to accompany you elsewhere.”
Madoc’s mouth flattens, but he seems to be putting forth his best behavior too. “I hope that in time you’ll determine that those precautions aren’t necessary, but considering it’s a step up from the hospitality offered before, I’ll take it.”
As he stands, I follow suit, raising my hand. “Actually, I’d like to speak with our Murk companion a little more. You two don’t have to wait up.”
Sylas hesitates, and I can practically feel Corwin’s apprehension radiating off him, but they both trust me enough now to sense that I have a private conversation in mind. The rat may reveal more when he doesn’t have two menacing arch-lords breathing down his neck. They bob their heads in acknowledgment and leave the two of us.
Madoc sits back down as I do, eyeing me with twice as much suspicion than before. “What else do you want to talk about? I’ve answered all of your questions as well as I can.”
I hum to myself. “Perhaps, but I’m not sure you’ve shared all the answers to questions you came up with yourself. You had an idea when you talked about the Murk healers you know, didn’t you?”
Madoc tenses in his seat. “If I thought it was worth bringing up, I would have.”
“Why don’t you let me decide what’s worthwhile and what’s not? I’m the strategist here—don’t put me out of a job.”
Obviously despite himself, Madoc’s lips twitch with a hint of a smile. It disappears as quickly as it showed itself. “Even if you’d want to do something with this information, I’m not sure I’d want to pursue it. And you’d need my cooperation.”
“I accept those terms,” I say. “Let’s see what we can hash out. You’re used to working around obstacles and tackling challenges in unexpected ways, aren’t you? That’s what Murk are known for. Add in a little wolfish wisdom, and we’ll see where that gets us.”
My nonchalant demeanor appears to put the rat shifter a little more at ease. He sighs and rolls his shoulders. “I only— There is a Murk woman I’ve heard of who’s very powerful with magic. I don’t know if she has any specific affinity for healing, but there’ve been rumors that she’s second only to Orion in power. Which is a good thing for Orion—that he’s still on top—because she doesn’t like him much. She has her own small colony that she’s refused to unite with his empire.”
I tap my mouth. “Interesting. And you think we might appeal to her to see if she can break his curse on Talia, on the grounds that she’d get to really piss him off by doing so.”
Madoc’s mouth twitches again, how much because he’s surprised that I followed his train of thought and how much because my phrasing amuses him, I’m not certain. “That’s the gist of it, yeah. But I only know of her—I’ve never met her myself. I have a basic idea of where and how I could reach out to her, but I’d also need to ensure that no one associated with Orion ever finds out I did, or I won’t be around to help anymore. It’s also possible that she hates the fae of the Mists even more than she dislikes Orion.”
“Reasonable concerns.” I set my hands on the table, clasping them together. “Let’s see if we can address them. I wouldn’t think hiding yourself would be so hard. Are you a master of illusions or aren’t you?”
Madoc grimaces at me. “My magic will definitely help me avoid notice. It won’t help me convince her to speak to me.”
I shrug. “From the sounds of things, she’ll be more inclined to talk to you if she doesn’t know who you are than if she’s aware you’re one of Orion’s ‘knights.’”
“All right, you have a point there.” Madoc lets out a short chuckle. His eyes narrow, not at me but at the problem he’s picturing, and all at once I can see the schemer in him, a mind that could align with my own.
“What would probably be even better is if I put an illusion on one of your people to help you reach her unnoticed by any spies. Then you could present your case directly along with a reward to encourage her to listen…” He pauses, and one of his eyebrows lifts. “I hear she’s particularly fond of barbtooths and duskapple wine. We don’t get much of either in the human world.”
“I’d suppose not.” I laugh and let a smile cross my face. I may not trust the man in front of me farther than I could spit him, but weaving a plan with him might actually be enjoyable. “Now how would we get her attention in the first place…”
