Chained Soul by Eva Chase
17
Corwin
I’ve always done my best to allow Talia all the freedom she could want, to show I respect her opinions and believe in her strength. It’s never been quite so hard to see those intentions through as it is right now.
She’s sitting in the grass next to Madoc, just a few steps from the border castle and with several fae who could leap to her defense in a split-second watching over them. Still, my hackles rise as the rat shifter offers her a small nugget of molded powder that’s one of his people’s “medicines.” I want to leap in there right now and tear it from her hands.
But she’s been firm that she trusts him at least in this, and her arguments have been sound. I can’t imagine how her situation could get any worse than it already is. And I can’t say the Murk man has ever shown the slightest hint of wanting to hurt her. If anything, it’s been the opposite.
The rest of us is another story.
I tamp down on those thoughts, not letting my uneasy emotions travel through our bond. I don’t want to cause her more distress, and I’m a little ashamed of how much my emotions are affecting me right now. Between all of us here, I’m supposed to be the level-headed raven, and I feel as wild as if there’s a wolf underneath my skin.
“You’ll want to chew it quickly,” Madoc is saying. “Hopefully it won’t upset your stomach.”
Sylas clears his throat. “What exactly is in that thing?”
The Murk man glances up at him. “Various herbs, magic to bring out their healing properties, and stuff the humans call penicillin.”
“Oh,” Talia says with a soft laugh. “I had to take that once when I was a kid—when I had an ear infection.” She looks at the nugget with amusement and then pops it into her mouth. Her throat bobs with her swallow. “It doesn’t taste too bad. Not sure this curse works quite the same as bacteria in the ear drum, though.”
Madoc gives her a crooked smile. “We don’t typically use it for curses. Or for bacteria. But magically speaking, bringing out the gist of a material’s properties can increase a similar effect you’re going for.”
“That’s solid magical theory,” Whitt agrees, if grudgingly.
“I guess it makes sense that your magic is much more entwined with human things than the spells the other fae use are,” Talia says to Madoc. “Since you live so much closer to them. I’ve forgotten about a lot of what seemed so normal to me before I was brought here.”
Her voice fades out, and I catch the flicker of concern in Madoc’s eyes. He quickly produces another object from the inner pockets on the leather vest he arrived wearing. The item looks like a flower, silky purple petals with a small cloth bundle sewn into the center. He hands it to Talia, who brightens again.
“Very pretty,” she says. “How does it work?”
“It’s supposed to deflect hostile energies,” Madoc says. “Not the most likely strategy to work when a lot of that energy is already in you, but again, I figured it couldn’t hurt to try everything. It’s got its own human component too.”
He motions to the underside of the flower, and she flips it over. A giggle spills out of her. She beams at him with a rush of fondness that carries through her connection with me. Then she holds it up so we can see the symbol stitched to the base of the bundle. “It’s the emblem for a squad of heroes from a TV show. I watched it all the time with Jamie. I didn’t know it was still popular.”
“Humans get very attached to their stories,” Madoc says, smiling back at her. Then the smile tightens a bit around the edges. “As I suppose we fae do too.”
I don’t have to ask what sort of stories he’s thinking of. Certainly we Unseelie and the Seelie have told plenty of horrifying tales about the Murk over the centuries. I haven’t seen proof yet that those weren’t warranted, though.
His remark reminds me of another sort of storytelling he’ll have been doing recently. “You must have needed to give your king some kind of report when you returned to your home. He wasn’t expecting you back so early, was he? What did you tell him?”
Madoc meets my gaze steadily. His wariness has eased a little with Talia’s acceptance of his presence. “I had a perfectly good excuse. You don’t think he’d have heard that a scuffle went down between Murk and fae of the Mists? And it wouldn’t take much for him to guess why you might have tried to meet with Delta. He might be unhinged, but he’s not an idiot. Now, if you’d managed to carry out the parlay peacefully, it could have been kept much more quiet.”
“That doesn’t answer the question,” August says with a hint of a growl. “I’d like to know exactly what you told him too.”
Madoc shifts his attention to the warrior. “I said that from what I’d gathered, the lot of you were getting desperate enough about Talia’s situation to turn to Murk for help, but that being how you are, you obviously couldn’t help screwing it up.”
Talia frowns. “Isn’t he going to realize that someone from the Murk side must already be helping us? How else would we have known to approach Delta—that she’d be a good choice to go against Orion?”
The rat shifter shrugs as if to try to hide the tension that’s come into his stance at the question. “No doubt he’d already put those pieces together as soon as he heard there was some commotion with Delta’s colony. It only means I have to keep being every bit as careful as I have been so far.”
Talia glances around. “You don’t have to worry—if he has other spies, and you’re seen here with us—?”
Madoc snorts. “Even I couldn’t manage to dodge all the protections around these domains, and I’m better with our concealing spells than anyone else Orion has working for him. I’d only be worried closer to the fringes.”
Perhaps that’s another reason he’s come back to us—to keep him out of his king’s sight. Although the moment that thought crosses through my head, I recognize the unfairness of it. Even if he dismisses the possibility, he knows that every moment he spends in our presence, he risks discovery.
And if his association with us is discovered, he won’t be able to return home at all.
I may be too hard on him, too skeptical of his intentions. But I can’t stop another rush of protectiveness from flaring inside me when his fingers brush Talia’s as he hands her a small jar with a salve he’s brought, or when he studies her so intently as she examines it.
It might not be all protectiveness. I can admit there’s also a twinge of jealousy woven in because of the way she smiles back at him. Because of her laugh when he explains that the substance combines another human-sourced ingredient, this one a popular brand of soap.
She leans toward him just a little as she thanks him. And there’s a joy humming through her at their conversation, at getting to talk with someone who understands that side of her old life in ways the rest of us never can.
“Did you ever see that commercial with the talking cat that ends up eating it?” she asks, and Madoc chuckles at the memory.
“We’re pretty sensitive to anything that involves cats,” he tells her with a quirk of his eyebrow. “That one definitely stuck with me. Thankfully I don’t think any cats are required for the cleansing properties to come into effect.”
Talia turns away to rub some of the salve into her skin over the spot between her breasts where she feels the curse even between the bad fits, and Madoc averts his gaze for her modesty. Somehow his courtesy niggles at me more than if he leered at her.
At least then I’d have a good excuse to want to peck him to death.
Talia tucks the jar into the pouch on her belt where she’s also stored the flower charm. As she turns back to face him, Madoc studies her. “Are you feeling any different at all? I know it’s early.”
But he can’t help hoping, just like the rest of us. The recognition of that hope and how the expression on his face aligns with my own sends an odd twist of emotion through me.
Talia touches the spot through her dress and appears to concentrate for a long moment. Her mouth slants downward. I can tell that she’s as much sorry to disappoint us as disappointed herself. “Not that I can notice. But maybe it’ll just take some time.”
Madoc ducks his head with a grimace. “It was a long shot. I just didn’t want to come back empty-handed.”
“It’s all right. No one’s been able to affect the curse, so you can’t beat yourself up that you can’t either.” Talia reaches out and rests her hand gently on his forearm like she did when he asked her if she trusted his offerings at all, determined to reassure him.
Madoc swipes his other hand over his face. “I know.” But his voice comes out raw, and his expression has tightened.
I wish I could appreciate how much he cares about my mate’s well-being. It’s getting harder to believe it’s an act. Talia doesn’t think so, and her concern for him jabs through me.
“If that’s everything, Talia should get some rest,” Sylas says. “She’s had a rough morning, and it’ll give more of a chance for your potential cures to work.”
Talia nods reluctantly and gets up. “What about Madoc?” she asks. “Are you going to shove him back into that little cabin for the rest of the day?”
Madoc speaks up before any of us has to. “It’s actually for my benefit as well, Talia. If a spy did manage to make it this far by some miracle, they’re less likely to notice I’m around if I’m hidden away in there. I was prepared this time, brought a couple of books.” He pats the other side of his vest and looks at the rest of us. “You’ll let me know if you think of any other way I can try to help Talia?”
Just Talia. Not the war effort, not our defenses against his people, not our own curse. Only her. He couldn’t have made it clearer since he returned that he’s given up on the rest of us.
Can I truly blame him for that?
Talia recognizes that part of his statement too, and a pang of distress shoots through her—both for us and the alliance she’d hoped we were building with him. She believes we’ve let him down too.
August helps her through the doorway toward her bedroom, and the guards move to escort Madoc to the cabin. As they leave, I motion to Sylas and Whitt. “A word?”
We gather in one of the border castle’s smaller sitting rooms. I wait until August rejoins us a few minutes later. The cheerful expression I’ve come to expect from him has been gloomy more often than not in recent days.
“I can’t see that anything he’s done has hurt her any, but we’ll have to keep a close eye on her,” he says.
“Despite my earlier hesitations, I don’t think he wants to harm her,” I say. “I think she’s the only person in the Mists he has any interest in defending at the moment.”
“I’d have to agree,” Whitt says with a sigh. “Which makes me more certain that what happened in the cove was an accident. We were reaching out to Delta mainly to see if she could cure Talia. Any assistance she might have offered in a war with Orion was a secondary concern at the time. I can’t see the rat wanting to jeopardize that unless he honestly believed we weren’t going to stick to our word.”
Sylas considers me. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”
I shake my head, but I have to dredge up the words. “I’ve also noticed how fond of him Talia’s becoming.”
Whitt’s eyebrows leap up. “What are you suggesting?”
I spread my hands. “She feels a connection with him, and she’s grateful for the ways he’s helped her. She also sympathizes with the tragedies he’s faced and his devotion to his people. He’s continued to prove himself a loyal ally and even friend to her… It’s not surprising that she’d come to care about him quite a bit too, is it?”
August bares his teeth. “If that rat even tries to lay his grubby paws on her—”
“I don’t think there’s much chance of that,” Whitt breaks in. “I’ve watched them together—I think he’s quite charmed by her, but he holds himself back. He knows how devoted she is to us, I’ve no doubt.” He pauses, meeting my gaze. “But I have seen a little of what you’re talking about, now that I think about it, and obviously you have more direct insight into her emotions.”
“But a rat…” August mutters.
“She managed to give me a chance even when she saw me as the enemy, even when the bond was forced on her in a way she found terrifying,” I remind them, my stomach knotting. “And you all accepted my place in her life, by her side, as well. I only thought we should have the subject out in the open between us, and possibly come to some sort of tentative understanding of how we’ll handle their attachment to each other if her feelings continue to develop.”
Silence settles over us. Sylas gazes off toward the window and then returns his attention to me. “She won’t step outside the bonds of our relationship. She only revealed the deeper affections she’d come to feel for Whitt to him after August and I had assured her that it wouldn’t be a betrayal—it was the same with you. She has one of the deepest senses of loyalty I’ve ever seen. If we don’t mention it, she never will. She’ll simply put her feelings aside.”
“And that’s what you think we should do?” I ask. “Ignore it?”
“We can’t trust him,” August says. “Whether he cares about her or not, he’d like to see the rest of us dead in the ground.”
The corner of Sylas’s mouth crooks upward. “I’m not sure that’s true, if only because he knows how much losing us would hurt Talia. But I do feel it’s too early to make any calls, and as long as we don’t intervene, nothing significant about the situation is going to change. We have time to see how deep his loyalty runs, especially once war looms. Any affection she feels for him will shatter quickly if he shows he’s willing to attack the rest of our people.”
He’s right. Of course he’s right. That’s undoubtedly how it’ll play out: for all his doting, push will come to shove, and he’ll take up arms alongside the rest of his people. Talia will never forgive him for giving up on the hope of peace.
And then nothing that’s been eating at me will matter.
“I do think there’s one part of his strategy we should consider taking up ourselves,” Whitt remarks with a faint grin. “Try every possible cure, no matter how unlikely? There are options we haven’t pursued yet because we assumed they’d have no effect. But I’d like to show our mighty mate that we aren’t giving up either. She could probably use some time away from languishing around one castle or another day in and day out.”
Our problems are hardly solved, but his suggestion lightens my spirits just slightly. I offer him a smile. “What do you have in mind?”
