Bewitched & Betrayed

Chapter 17

The sun was coming up, birds were singing, and the breeze from the harbor didn’t stink yet. Most people would consider this to be the start of a good day.

I wasn’t most people, but I was determined to make today go my way for a change. I’d crammed my terror of elven prison cells into a dark corner of my mind. We were about to free Tam, and Markus was still on my side. Those two things, plus the vision of a financially and professionally ruined Taltek Balmorlan, were enough to put a smile on my face. It was probably a smile that most people would run from, but for a Benares, it meant we were happy.

“Thinking violently vindictive thoughts?” Mychael asked from beside me.

“I am.” I inhaled the harbor air as if it were a bouquet of flowers. “And enjoying myself while doing it.”

Mychael smiled slowly, a dangerous sparkle in his eyes. “You’re a bad girl, Raine Benares.”

“I do what I can.”

We gave any patrols and early risers the slip, and arrived unseen at Mychael’s basement hideaway. He didn’t mind his men seeing him, at least not once he was back in uniform and not wearing something a highwayman would be apprehended in. I was beginning to wonder if the real Mychael Eiliesor was someone in between.

Mychael closed the door behind us. I waited until he’d locked it.

“The only thing better than a ruined Taltek Balmorlan would be you telling me how you can help make him that way and be the paladin at the same time. I don’t see you tossing the law aside, even if it means getting Balmorlan.”

“I won’t be tossing the law aside; it has always dictated my actions.”

“Like your actions last night? The man I was with wasn’t the upright, law-abiding, and proper paladin. You handled Karl Cradock like a pro, and I don’t mean a Guardian.” I tossed my cloak on the bed. “Listen, your life is your own, so you don’t owe me an explanation, but I’d—”

“I want to give you one.” Mychael hesitated, his eyes focused on the closed door. “I protect those who need it by arresting or taking down those who deserve it. That is the intent of the law.”

“But not the letter of the law.”

“Sometimes the two aren’t the same,” he agreed.

“Don’t get me wrong—I approve completely of what you did last night. Hell, even I was impressed and I’ve seen some slick con men at work.” I took a deep breath and pushed on. “I’m going to need all the help I can get—legal and otherwise. But I’d never thought that someone who went to the Conclave college, became a Guardian cadet, then raced up through the ranks to paladin could be an ‘otherwise’ kind of man.”

“I didn’t go to school here; I’ve never been a cadet, so I didn’t race up through the ranks.”

I just stood there in stupefied silence. “What?” I finally managed.

“I didn’t—”

“I heard what you said. I just—”

“Assumed.”

“Apparently a hell of a lot.”

“Raine, I’ve never lied to you. You never asked.”

“How long have you been paladin?”

“Almost four years.”

“And you weren’t a Guardian before then?”

“No.”

The consummate Guardian, the proper paladin, had never even been one before. My thoughts ran around in confused circles, bumping into each other and getting nowhere fast.

“Doesn’t the paladin have to at least have been a Guardian at some point?”

“It’s the way it’s always been done—but not in my case.”

“But you said you were a student of Ronan Cayle.”

“Ronan sees a lot of already trained spellsingers. It helps our voices stay in shape.”

“Then who taught you?”

Mychael watched me in silence. “Is that what you really want to know?” he asked quietly.

I stood there, looking up into those sea blue eyes. Eyes that met mine unwaveringly. They were the eyes of an honest man, or so I thought.

“I want to know who you are.”

“Mychael Eiliesor.”

“A name doesn’t tell me who you are.” I stood there, looking up at him, trying to see beneath the surface. I was bonded to the man and I still didn’t know who he was. I had seen the avenging angel that he was inside. But the armor hadn’t gleamed and his robes hadn’t been white—maybe they had been that way at one time, but they weren’t anymore. They were singed, dirty, and bloodstained. Mychael Eiliesor had fought a lot of battles against others—maybe even against himself.

And in every last one of them, he’d done what he had to do.

An hour ago on the Red Hawk, he’d promised to do the same thing.

For me.

“Mychael, you’ve said that I can trust you with my life. I can do that—and I have done that.” I paused. “But I need you to be willing to trust me with yours.”

He crossed the small room to an armoire in the corner, opened it, and pulled out an exact copy of his paladin uniform. He began unbuttoning his leather doublet. “Justinius contacted me about four years ago and said he needed me as paladin.”

“ ‘Contacted’? Sounds like one of Markus’s agency terms.”

“I’ve never worked for the agency.”

“Who, then?”

Mychael took off the doublet and tossed it on the bed next to my cloak, quickly followed by his shirt. He half turned toward me. His arms and chest were sculpted with muscle, his shoulders broad. I knew this; I had seen the man virtually naked just a few days ago. Hell, I’d been in bed with him. But I still looked and couldn’t look away, and the urge to close the distance between us and let my fingers explore that smoothly muscled expanse was almost too much to resist.

Almost.

I needed answers, not a distraction. Focus, Raine.

“Who did you take your orders from?” I asked.

“I reported only to Queen Lisara’s father.”

“Do you report to the queen now?”

“No.”

Retired, then. Or at least on inactive status. And he couldn’t exactly be paladin of a politically neutral military order and take orders from the elven queen. Well, he could, but one thing I did know for certain was that Mychael Eiliesor would never split his loyalties.

“You were in the army?”

“For a while.”

I started doing the math. “You’re a highly skilled warrior who can use your voice to make almost anyone do anything; you can heal yourself; you can veil and glamour like nobody’s business, pretending to be anyone and conning your way into and out of sticky situations—then there’s the talents I haven’t even seen yet. No doubt the old king found your services invaluable.”

“I was adequately compensated.”

I’d heard of them, the men and women who reported only to the old king. Officially, they had no name, though they were called Black Cats by certain criminal elements who had the misfortune to come into contact with them. And since my last name was Benares, I’d heard the term more than once. Like a black cat in a dark alley, you might catch a glimpse of one, but before you could blink, it was gone. Black Cat operatives were trained to do what was needed, where it was needed, and to whom it needed to be done. They operated where the law couldn’t go or reach. They were never seen, never heard.

Never known.

Until now.

“A Black Cat,” I said simply.

Mychael arched a quizzical brow at me. He didn’t deny it. That was as close to a direct admission as I was likely to get.

“Yeah, I’ve heard the name,” I continued. “And I know the reputation. Legendary. So by being paladin, you’re just playing another role, albeit for a different boss.”

Mychael sat on the side of the bed and began removing his boots. “I am the paladin in every way that the law and my duties dictate. With the deteriorating political state of affairs on Mid during the past few years and the Saghred resurfacing, Justinius needed someone who could work within the law, but also knew how to work the system.” He pulled one boot off and tossed it aside. “Unfortunately, the law can’t solve all problems, and people like Carnades and Taltek Balmorlan are quite adept at circumventing it. Justinius asked me to serve as paladin because he needed someone he could trust to work cleanly outside of the system.” His second boot joined the first.

“Cleanly meaning not getting caught.”

Mychael stood, unhooked his belt, and began unbuttoning his trousers. He grinned at me. “At least not getting caught with my trousers down. Would you prefer to turn around while I finish changing?”

I shook my head. “I can safely say that I’ve seen everything you’ve got. So I’ll stay right where I am and keep getting answers.”

He dropped his trousers and I tried to keep my jaw from doing the same thing.

“I . . . uh . . . Dammit, I forgot my question.”

Mychael’s eyes sparkled. “I’m also an expert in avoiding interrogation.”

Black Cats were experts at vanishing into the night. I didn’t want Mychael doing the same to me.

But I also didn’t want Mychael getting killed because of me.

“How much longer will you stay here as paladin?” I tried to make the question sound matter-of-fact, but my voice sounded kind of small even to me.

“Raine, I’m not going anywhere. My job here is far from finished.”

“But let’s say you did need to leave. I mean, if you had to . . . I want you to know that . . . well, that I would understand.” I forced out a little laugh. “I know some kick- ass mages, and I could always call in more of my family. Some of them are crazy enough to take on anything.”

Mychael had pulled on his gray uniform trousers. His feet and chest were still bare. He padded over to me and put his arms around me, pulling me close. Words couldn’t describe how good that felt.

“You don’t need to call anyone,” he murmured against my hair. “We’re going to take care of this together.”

I took a slow breath and let it out against his chest. Just say it, Raine. “Mychael, you’re in enough danger without feeling obligated to me.”

He loosened his hold so he could see my face. “Ob ligated?”

“You feel responsible for getting me into this and now you feel obligated to get me out.”

“Raine, I don’t—”

“Please, let me finish. I’m poison to you. If Nukpana or Balmorlan . . . or hell, even if Carnades manages to bring me down, I won’t take you with me. I don’t know how I’ll stop them, but I’ll do what I have to.” I put my hands on his chest, keeping the distance between us. “Please . . . please, don’t take any more chances with your life because of me.” My vision blurred and there was no smoky fireplace to blame it on. “I care too much about you.” I tried to force down the emotions that thickened my voice. “I couldn’t stand it if you—”

Mychael looked down at me for a long moment, then he slowly put one of his hands over both of mine. “Raine, some chances are worth taking; they’re so rare and precious that it’s worth risking everything.” He said it with conviction. He said it like a man who had made up his mind and Death itself wasn’t going to budge him.

I was talking about him surviving the next few days. Mychael wasn’t.

He was talking about me. About us.

I felt a surge of panic. “And sometimes they’re not worth taking.” My mind raced. If I left the island, I’d take my trouble with me and Mychael would be safe . . . at least safer. My dad had left Mid nine hundred years ago. He’d had no choice—

Mychael curled his fingers around my hands, holding them tight. “Then I will come after you.” He paused, the smooth muscles working in his jaw. “And if someone takes you, be they man or mage, I will find you.”

I didn’t need our bond to tell me what he was thinking, what he felt. I could see it in his eyes.

Mychael Eiliesor loved me.

“I don’t regret anything I’ve done—or anything I’ll have to do in the next few days.” He pulled my hands to his lips one after the other, kissing the center of each palm. “I regret nothing,” he whispered, “especially you.”

Mychael bent his head, his lips hesitating over my mouth. When his lips lightly touched mine, I expected him to pull away after a brief kiss as he’d done before, his passion denied, our propriety maintained.

Not this time. He didn’t deny himself—or me.

Mychael’s lips gently explored mine as if tasting them for the first time, or memorizing them if this was the last time. One of his hands cradled my neck and throat, his thumb lightly stroking my face. The other was more insistent, wrapping around my waist and gathering me to him.

He opened his eyes and gazed down at me. The question was there in those sea blue eyes, unspoken, lingering between us. Did I want him to stop?

I didn’t need words to answer him.

My hands reached up to either side of his face and pulled him down to me, the stubble on his face a delicious roughness beneath my fingers. Mychael’s lips had been gentle explorers; mine were conquerors, taking what I’d wanted from almost the first moment I’d seen him. Mychael wasn’t the only one who had denied himself. Death had knocked on my door one time too many; I wasn’t going to deny myself anymore. I’d take what I could, while I could. Plunder, pillage, leave no treasure behind.

Mychael responded, his passion, his need matching my own. Any fear of the present and uncertain future faded to nothing. All that was left was him and me, taste and sensation, both delicious—both dangerous. His hands slid down my arms and around my waist and back, crushing me against him. A fire flickered and caught between us, familiar to me, new to him. Mychael’s breath caught when he felt it, but he didn’t stop. Instead he pulled me closer, as if he would wrap himself around me, shielding and protecting me. The fire was the Saghred, but it wasn’t alone. Overshadowing it, forcing it aside, was another fire, white-hot, pure, and unrelenting, burning bright and searing the darkness away from me.

His magic. Mychael.

I saw a light through my closed eyelids, and felt a glow, a warmth down the length of me, of both of us, wrapping and entwining, joining us together. I slowly parted my lips from his and looked up at him, my pulse absurdly loud in my own ears. We stood there, our bodies touching, our breathing the only sound. Mychael’s breathing was ragged as he gazed down at me in wonder—and in expectant hope.

“I’m a Benares, remember?” My voice was low and husky. “If we see something we want, we take it.”

“Do you see something you want?”

“I’m looking right at him.” My mouth was suddenly dry, and I tried to swallow. “Do you want me?” I told myself it was a stupid question, but I had to ask. I needed to hear him say it.

His hands were on my shoulders and he slid them down to just above my breasts. “I’ve wanted you—and loved you—since the moment I woke up in that bedroom in Mermeia and saw you standing in the corner.”

I think my heart stopped for a few beats. “Loved me,” I heard myself say.

His hands slid down farther. “Loved you.”

He was wearing only his uniform trousers. I was wearing way too much. I reached up to unbutton something, anything, but I was suddenly at a loss as to where to start.

Mychael caught my hands in his. “May I undress you?”

“Okay.” I suddenly felt shy, awkward.

“Are you sure?” His deep voice rubbed against me like hands in velvet gloves, sending a delicious shiver down through my belly and lower.

“No one’s ever undressed me before.”

Mychael grinned. “I have, but you weren’t awake for it.”

I was awake for it now and then some. I wrestled my way out of my sword harness, then I let Mychael take it from there. Truth be told, my hands were probably shaking too badly to undo my doublet’s buttons. Mychael made short work of them, and shorter work of the buttons on my shirt. Then he slowly pulled my shirt and doublet aside and stopped, staring down at me. The room wasn’t cold, so I didn’t have any excuse for my breasts tightening and nipples hardening except for the truth. They wanted to be touched and they wanted it badly.

Mychael bent and wrapped his arms around my hips and lifted me off my feet. When his lips closed around my nipple, the shock of sensations made me gasp.

He raised his head and my mouth took his, tasting, delving, devouring, and he backed to the bed, one arm holding me tightly against him, the other exploring, kneading. The backs of his knees bumped against the edge of the bed and he sat down, pulling me with him. I opened my eyes and looked at him. I’d seen his eyes darken before, but nothing like this; his pupils were dilated so much that they were dark pools that I could fall into, wanted to dive into.

Mychael’s fingers were spread wide under my shirt and against my bare back to touch as much skin as possible. I unwrapped my arms from around his shoulders and dropped them to my sides. Mychael didn’t need me to say what I wanted him to do. He reached up with his other hand, grabbed a handful of my doublet and shirt at the back of my neck, and pulled them down. They came halfway off, then stopped, snagged on something just below my elbows.

What the—“Dammit . . . hold on.”

Mychael’s lips were busy on my throat. “Daggers,” he murmured, his mouth working its way down to nip at my breast and lower still to pull on my nipple.

A sweet shiver ran through my body, ending with an unbearable ache between my legs, and I suddenly forgot how to breathe or what the hell daggers were.

Mychael’s mouth and tongue and hands paused from doing those wonderful things they were doing. “Daggers,” he said again, and went back to sucking and rubbing and kneading and teasing.

A tiny part of my mind that wasn’t dazed from sensation shouted at me what the rest of me couldn’t remember. Daggers. In forearm sheaths. Doublet can’t come off until they come off, stupid.

“Oh . . . wait.” I wiggled my doublet back up on my shoulders and with shaky hands unfastened the cuffs and reached inside. I pulled off one sheath, then the other. Only then did I look at Mychael. “There,” I almost panted. “Try again.”

He did. He grabbed my doublet’s leather in both fists at my shoulders and, in one smooth move, pulled it and my shirt off and threw both across the room. Nice.

I pushed him back on the bed, kissing him again, deep enough to taste the tannins of the Caesolian red he’d had. I tried to shift my hips to get closer to him, to satisfy that ache. I still had my trousers and boots on. This was a problem. A big one. I swore silently, but the only thing that made it out of my mouth was a whimper.

Mychael heard, and better yet, he did something about it. He looked up at me and grinned. “Hold on.”

I did.

He slid his hands down to pull me tight against him, and flipped me over onto my back.

I yelped in surprise, and then laughed and wrapped my legs around him.

Mychael’s grin broadened, then he leaned down and trapped my bottom lip between his teeth, nipping. “You like?”

“Oh yeah.” My heart was only about to pound its way out of my chest, I liked it so much.

“Uh . . . if you want me to do anything else, you’re going to have to unwrap your legs.”

“What? Oh . . .”

I slid my legs down from his hips and Mychael got off of the bed and went to work on my boots. They were tall boots, over my knees, and weren’t easy for me to take off under the best of circumstances, but Mychael made short work of them, and they joined my doublet and shirt on the floor.

I reached up and tugged him down on top of me. Mychael’s eyes were gleaming as he put his hands on either side of me and dipped his head to my belly, the tip of his tongue running a quick, warm swirl around the edge of my belly button. My hips arched up in a shock of sensation. Mychael slid one of his hands under me, the other quickly unbuttoning my trousers.

I swallowed and tried to pull in some air. “Nimble fingers,” I noted.

He smiled up at me. “Just wait.”

I couldn’t.

Mychael slipped his fingers into the top of my trousers and after a few squirms from me, they joined the pile of my clothes on the floor. Then he stood and I watched. Pulling his uniform trousers on was a lot easier than taking them off now, but a few minutes ago, he didn’t have nearly as much to pull them over.

I’d seen him naked before, but then just a peek briefly visible above a sheet, and the room had been almost dark. I could see everything now, and my power of speech abandoned me completely.

Mychael slid onto the bed and I hooked my leg around his hip, pulling him down to me. The hard length of him slid against my thigh until it touched the source of my ache, and my breath caught in my throat. Mychael’s eyes met mine, dark pools of midnight blue, steady, certain of what he wanted . . . and hungry.

My eyes flicked toward the door. “Is it locked?”

He blinked. “What?”

“The door, is it locked?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“I mean, well . . . it doesn’t have a latch.”

“It doesn’t have a latch on the outside, either.”

“But what if—”

“It’s sealed. The door and this room are spellproof.” His grin was slow and wicked. “And soundproof.” He grabbed me around the hips, rolled, and swung me up on top. “There. You want control? You got it.” His eyes glittered up at me in challenge.

I opened my mouth and Mychael laid his fingers across my lips. “This is bodywork, Raine.”

I smiled beneath his fingers and reached down to touch him. Smooth and velvety at the same time. I ran my fingers across the tip and he gasped and jerked beneath me.

I reached for him again, but he caught my hand in his.

“You don’t like it?”

Mychael took a ragged breath. “I like it too much.” His voice was hoarse, raw. “I’ve wanted you for too long to let it end like that.”

I grinned. “Say no more.”

“If you do that again, I won’t be able to.”

Neither one of us said another word as I lowered myself onto him, settling with a trembling sigh. Oh . . . yes. Oh yeah, that was good. That was so nice. That was so far beyond good and nice that a word hadn’t been invented yet to describe it. I stayed like that, panting, unmoving, then Mychael shifted beneath me with a gentle thrust and someone moaned softly. It was me.

I braced my hands on his chest as we moved together, his hands on my hips, his fingers spread wide, gripping me. A warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with our mysterious bond and everything to do with us, what we were doing, together, here and now. I leaned down and Mychael rose up to meet me, our lips meeting, our quickened breath mingling. The heat swirled faster, and lower, building in my belly and beyond, tightening, gripping. Molten. Our bodies moved faster to match the liquid fire spiraling through us, and I heard Mychael’s long drawn-out growl from beneath me as he thrust once more, hard enough to send us both over the edge.

In the next instant, for both of our sakes, I really hoped that room was soundproof.

I sprawled on top of Mychael, my breathing harsh and ragged against his shoulder. His hands slid lazily up my spine and down along the curve of my waist and hips and back again, the heat sparking beneath his fingers, sending little shivers through me. I stretched, slow and languid, and I swear I purred.

“Sleep would be great,” I murmured against his lips.

“Too bad we can’t have any.” His eyes sparkled. “Though we had something even better.”

“Yes, we did.” I ran my fingernails lightly down his chest. “Thank you, very much.”

“My pleasure, Miss Benares.”

“Oh, I can assure you that the pleasure was all mine.”

Mychael laughed. “So I heard.”

I playfully smacked him on the ass and he just laughed harder.

I rolled off of him, snuggling in the crook of his arm, my head on his chest. “I hope no one else did. I can do without an applauding crowd when we step outside.”

We lay there in the silence, arms and legs entwined, warm and safe. The only sound I could hear was Mychael’s heartbeat against my ear. I closed my eyes and drifted. This felt good. Better than good, this felt right. We were still in as much danger as before; that hadn’t changed. But everything else had. Though it wasn’t a change, not really. It was more like a confirmation. Yes, a confirmation. My heart had known how I felt even if my head wouldn’t admit it, even if I was afraid to admit it. And it was past time for me to say it. I had to. I didn’t plan on dying in the next few days, and anyone who was determined to try to make me was in for one hell of a fight. They were in for a lot worse if they laid one hand on Mychael. I didn’t want to think about losing him, but the image came in my mind’s eye before I could stop it. If something did happen to him . . . or to me . . . I wanted him to know that I—

I tilted my head and looked up at Mychael. His eyes were closed, but he was awake. He sensed me looking and opened his eyes. I’d just made love to the man and was naked in bed with him. Shy should be the last thing I felt. Then why was I nervous? Just say it, Raine.

“I . . . I love you, too.”

Mychael tightened his arms around me and pulled me up close enough to kiss. Then he did just that, slow, delicious, and maddening. And I started having naughty ideas that we didn’t have time for me to have.

Mychael’s lips released mine and he just looked at me, as if memorizing my face, storing away this moment. Like he was trying to get a picture in his mind of something he was about to lose, something that would be taken from him.

He wasn’t going to lose me.

And no one was taking Mychael Eiliesor away from me.

“We’re going to get out of this.” I didn’t ask it as a question. I stated it as an irrefutable fact. “So are our friends and so are my family.” I smiled and I knew it was fierce. Hell, I felt fierce. I was also determined, and I was happy. Yes, dammit, for the first time in a long time, I was happy. And no one was going to take that away from me. “And today is the beginning of the end for anyone who thinks otherwise.”

Mychael and I got back to watcher headquarters just before sunrise. We walked through headquarters’ front doors this time, like we’d come from the citadel after a night of questioning false witnesses, not an evening of kidnapping an elven duke, blowing up a house, and making mind-blowing love in a secret hideout. Mychael pulled me into a side street twice for quick, heated kisses. But by the time we got to headquarters, the proper paladin was back.

I smiled. I wasn’t going to be fooled by that act ever again.

Sedge met us at the front door, a big grin on his broad and honest face. “You don’t need those witnesses to recant,” he informed Mychael. “Director Imala Kalis brought evidence of her own.”

Tam’s cell was empty and all eyes were on the closed door to Sedge’s conference room. And half of those eyes belonged to enough goblin secret service agents to no doubt make Imala feel comfortable and Sedge’s boys more than a trifle edgy.

“The two of them are in there,” he responded to our unspoken question, and my obvious concern.

Mychael inclined his head toward the conference room. “Was that Imala Kalis’s idea?”

“Nope, the second he was out of that cell, Nathrach damned near dragged her in there.” Sedge’s grin broadened. “The lady landed a solid kick to Nathrach’s shin, but she told her men not to interfere.”

“What’s with the goblin spy convention?” I asked, bothered by any room that was wall-to-wall fangs.

“The lady showed up about an hour ago with the paperwork she needed and the law on her side,” Sedge told us. “As a keeper of the law, I had to agree that she was well within her rights to demand Nathrach’s release.”

Mychael’s expression darkened. “What papers?”

“Papers proving that Nathrach was still a member of the goblin royal family and as such he has diplomatic immunity from prosecution of any crime except in a goblin court of law. And while the lady was at it, she claimed that Nathrach had been taken as a political prisoner and Magus Silvanus’s and Inquisitor Balmorlan’s accusations and groundless arrest were an act of war.”

I snorted a laugh. “Sorry, but that’s priceless. Did Carnades get to hear any of this?”

“He wasn’t here, just Balmorlan. And when the lady told him, she was in his face, about as close as she could get and not be standing on his boots. Balmorlan had turned up not ten minutes after she arrived. It’s like he was lurking outside.”

“He probably was,” I muttered.

“The lady said she’d drop the charges if Nathrach was released and Balmorlan apologized to him in front of her and her staff. And from the lady’s own lips: ‘If I deem your words to be contrite and sincere, I won’t sue the hell out of you and Carnades Silvanus.’ Unquote.”

Mychael smiled. “And what did Balmorlan say to that?”

“He told her that the only person on Mid who could make and enforce such a claim was the goblin ambassador, and since she was his underling, her charges carried no weight.”

I winced and grinned at the same time. “Underling. I’m betting he shouldn’t have said that.”

“He didn’t get very far,” Sedge Rinker said. “Director Kalis said that the goblin ambassador had mysteriously gone missing, she was in charge, and Balmorlan would be dealing with her.” He chuckled. “The top of her head barely came to the middle of Balmorlan’s chest, and Hell was going to freeze over before that little lady backed down.”

If Rudra Muralin was missing, it sounded like Imala Kalis had won their game of tit for tat. I wondered if Rudra was “missing” in the embassy latrine with his lackeys and staff, Imala Kalis having bolted and warded the door shut. That image was a keeper.

Vidor Kalta leisurely strolled out of Sedge’s office, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand.

“That’s far from the best part,” the nachtmagus told us. “Then Imala Kalis informed him with that adorable dimple of hers that goblin law stated when an ambassador was dead, missing, or incapacitated, the senior official present had the duty and right to assume all diplomatic duties and authority. But unless elven law had changed in the past five minutes, one of Balmorlan’s superiors being dead and the other presumed dead just made him a man without a job.”

Mychael wasn’t laughing, but his eyes sure were. “I hate I missed that.”

Sedge added a nod to his grin. “A thing of beauty, it was.”

Kalta took a satisfied sip. “Imala Kalis appeared to be having the time of her life.” His black eyes glittered with malicious glee. “Taltek was apoplectic.”

Mychael’s humor vanished. “One of Balmorlan’s superiors is presumed dead?”

“There was an explosion at a house on Ambassador Row,” Sedge explained. “By the time my men got there, the place was surrounded by elven embassy guards. Since the house is a part of the embassy, it’s elven soil. My men couldn’t go in without permission, and the commander in charge wasn’t inclined to give it, though it sounded more like they didn’t want anyone interfering. Since there wasn’t anything left but a pile of smoking debris, I had my men back off to a suitable distance.” He paused uncomfortably. “Supposedly Duke Markus Sevelien was staying there. That was one bit of information the elf commander was willing to part with.”

“I’ll bet he couldn’t wait to ‘leak’ that one,” I said to Mychael in mindspeak.

Mychael’s lips narrowed in an angry line. “When did you get this information?”

“Just before Director Kalis got here. I sent a runner to the citadel with a report for you.”

“We must have just missed each other.” Mychael said it with the perfect mix of concern, frustration, and professional poise. The man was a veritable master of misinformation, though in my family we called it being a good liar. Though sometimes lying wasn’t just the best thing you could do; it was the only thing you could do.

“If he couldn’t find you, his orders were to deliver it to the archmagus.”

“Good enough,” Mychael told him. “Sedge, I need to hear what Tam and Imala Kalis are saying.”

“Not a problem. I’ve got just the spot in my office. It shares a wall with the conference room, and in one place a piece of wood is missing. There’s a cabinet in the conference room that covers up the hole. If you’re quiet about it, you should be able to hear anything you need to.” He did his best to look contrite. “I’ve been meaning to get that hole fixed, but just never got around to it.”

Mychael gave the recording gem to Sedge Rinker. We were keeping mine. When you have incriminating evidence, it’s always good business to have a copy.

“Karl Cradock,” Mychael said. “One of the men who needs to be in that cell. He’s staying above the Bare Bones tavern.”

“He killed General Aratus?”

Mychael shook his head. “Sarad Nukpana killed General Aratus. Karl Cradock did the kidnapping and stayed around to throw the general’s corpse out of the coach.”

Sedge tossed the gem in his hand. “And it’s all here.”

“And a couple of other interesting things,” Mychael told him. “I have the kidnappers in custody that he was hiring to take the next victim. Interestingly enough, Markus Sevelien was to be that victim. You’ll want to get some men to the Bare Bones quickly. No doubt Cradock will be trying to leave the island on the morning tide. I don’t believe he feels safe here anymore. If you don’t find him at the Bare Bones, try the west docks, a Caesolian freighter named Reliant.”

Sedge shook his head and laughed. “You make me look good, Mychael.”

Mychael flashed a crooked smile. “You help me, and I help you.”

We made ourselves at home in Sedge’s office. A sergeant quietly brought us some much- needed coffee, and we settled back to be both informed and entertained.

Interestingly enough, Tam wasn’t happy with the lady who’d sprung him from jail.

Mychael and I had used Sedge Rinker’s conference room before when we’d needed to have some privacy for a conversation that turned into an argument. Tam and Imala Kalis were putting it to similar use. With typical goblin gentility, they were managing to sound civilized and verbally slice each other to shreds at the same time. It was an impressive display.

“No one has paid me anything,” Imala Kalis all but spat. “I work for the goblin people.” She paused meaningfully. “For the good of the goblin people.”

Tam’s laugh was more like a short bark. “Meaning you work for Prince Chigaru Mal’Salin.”

“I never spoke his name.”

“So your new career goal is to be the featured entertainment in Execution Square for treason? And you’ve come all this way to get me into more trouble than I already am just so I can keep you company while you walk to the block.”

“I won’t be going anywhere near Execution Square, and if you would hear me out, neither will you.”

“I have been listening and you have yet to say anything that isn’t suicidal for you and fatal to me.”

“Just because King Sathrik wants it doesn’t mean he’s going to get it. Sathrik does what’s best for Sathrik. I’m trying to do what’s best for the goblin people.” She was silent for a moment. “You could at least thank me.”

“For what? For getting me released by telling everyone that I’m a royal retainer who still works for the Mal’Salins?”

“The queen,” Imala corrected him.

“Who. Is. Dead.” Tam sounded like he’d said that more than once in the past hour or so.

“Ah, but who never accepted your resignation.”

“Who cannot because she is now dead.”

“Never accepted, never terminated. Diplomatic immunity is such a beautiful thing, is it not? It gets one out of all sorts of unfortunate situations.”

“What an appropriate word choice.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Terminated. Get me out, then get me killed, which is precisely what Sathrik sent you here to do.”

“I don’t work for Sathrik.” Imala hissed the name like something she found sticking to the bottom of her boot.

“You’re not working both sides of the family? Come, now, Imala. That would be a first for the secret service. Though wait—let me guess. You’ve gone into business for yourself. So how much are you thinking you can collect for my head? Anything less than three thousand in imperial gold and you’ve been robbed, and we wouldn’t want that. Wasn’t that the price on my head? Or has it increased?”

“No one has paid or will pay me anything for any part of you, least of all your apparently empty head. The person who I represent is interested in all of you. Intact. Alive and breathing—and thinking.”

“And on behalf of all of me, I refuse.”

“Without hearing his offer? For the last time, I am trying to keep you alive, you pigheaded ass!”

“The farther away I am from anyone with the last name Mal’Salin, or from anyone who works for a Mal’Salin, the longer my life expectancy will be—without your assistance.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.”

“Is that a threat?”

“That’s me telling you that the lines are being drawn in Regor, and when sides have been chosen, you and your son should be certain that you’re on the right one.”

Tam’s voice was lined with steel. “Leave Talon out of this.”

“You’re the one who hasn’t left him out of this,” Imala retorted. “Instead of hiding him for his own safety, you’ve publicly acknowledged him, given him your name, made him your heir, and put him in more danger than even you can protect him from. I heard and saw what he did last night, and so did a few of those Nightshades.”

“And a few of your men.”

“My men are trustworthy.”

“So you’re certain that every last one of them is unwaveringly loyal to you? Would never betray your vaunted trust? Never slit that pretty little throat of yours if given half the chance?”

“Pretty little throat?” That caught her off guard.

“I have working eyes, Imala. But more important, I have working ears. Never mention my son’s name again.”

“After last night’s little display, I won’t need to because everyone else will. And you have an umi’atsu bond with Raine Benares and are linked in some way to Mychael Eiliesor. You have become a very desirable commodity among our elite—people you don’t want desiring any part of you or your son.”

“Khrynsani,” Tam hissed.

Her words were fire voice. “I have never, nor will I ever, refer to those jackals as elite anything. Complete extermination cannot come too soon.” She paused and then laughed. “Though that explosion a few hours ago certainly diminished their numbers. I shall have to discover who was responsible for that delightful display of pyrotechnics and thank them. Unfortunately, it seems that the ultimate prize escaped. A coach was seen racing from the scene. A coach driven by a Khrynsani. I imagine Sarad and Janos were inside.”

Tam hissed a single obscenity in Goblin.

“For once I share your opinion, and sincerely wish our clever arsonist better luck in the future.”

“Have you found Sevelien?” Tam asked.

“Not a trace. What’s left of the house is still too hot to search, and the elves have it cordoned off, ostensibly waiting until they can get in to look for him.” Imala actually snorted. “He’s not there and they know it. They’re going through the motions, nothing more. My bet is that he was in that coach, taken by Sarad Nukpana, or somehow the crafty fox managed to escape.”

“And blew up his own house?”

“Entirely possible. Markus always had an exquisite sense of irony.” Her voice turned grim. “And I hope he still does. He is a brilliant tactician and a charming opponent. I’ve enjoyed sparring with him in the past. Only now we find ourselves with a similar goal.” She paused. “Odd, isn’t it? Me, a goblin, wanting to keep an elven duke alive, and his own people wanting nothing more than to find him dead. These are indeed strange times.”

“And Imala Kalis wanting to protect me is even more strange.”

“Someone has to, because you seem to have little interest in protecting yourself. From the reports I’ve received, you’ve done everything in the past few months short of putting your own neck in a noose.”

“I’ve done what I’ve had to do.”

“I’m doing the same thing now—if you will rein in your innate stubbornness long enough to consider my offer.”

“Imala, I can’t do what you ask.”

Her next words came out on the barest breath. “Even if Sathrik were no longer king.”

“The changing of a king won’t change the court—or the way the court is run.”

“But it can.” The silence was thick and tense. “Your people need you, Tam.”

“And what about my dear extended family who say they need my head?”

“Leave them to me.”

“What are you going to do, poison the entire municipal water supply?”

“If I have to.”

“Why are you trusting me with this?”

“If you hadn’t left the court, Sathrik would have killed you.”

Tam laughed, a contemptuous sound. “Sathrik would have tried.”

“Success or failure wouldn’t change the fact that he never liked you; he certainly never trusted you.”

“He murdered his own mother, who was also my queen, a queen I was sworn to serve.”

“Then serve her now, Tam. Yes, she is dead, but what she stood for and believed in is not—at least not yet.”

I didn’t know if Sedge’s office was dusty or I still had smoke up my nose from blowing up Markus’s house, but I did something very bad.

I sneezed. Loudly.

Then just to make sure everyone in headquarters heard, my nose decided to do it again. Even louder.

“Crap,” I muttered.

The wall vibrated as the cabinet was shoved away from the hole in the wall. Tam’s face appeared at eye level with me. He was not amused; actually, he looked rather pissed.

“And how long have you been here?”

I hoisted my mug. “About half a cup’s worth.”

“I’m here, too, Tam,” Mychael said.

“Dammit.” Tam blew out his breath to keep from saying something worse.

“Tam, I’d like to speak with Director Kalis,” Mychael told him. “May we come over?”

The lady’s face appeared next to Tam’s. She’d probably been up all night like the rest of us and she was still cute. “We’d be delighted, Paladin Eiliesor.”

Tam rolled his eyes and muttered something not so nice under his breath.

“Do ignore him,” she said. “He gets this way whenever he spends the night in jail.”

Mychael passed his hand over the opening in the wall, murmured a few words, and the hole in the wall turned into a wall with no hole.

Sedge Rinker just lost his peephole.

Mychael didn’t want anyone listening in on the four of us.

A few minutes later Mychael and I came into the conference room with a watcher right behind us bearing gifts—a tray laden with coffee and pastries. Leave it to watchers to know where to get great coffee and pastries. That should take Tam from pissed to pacified.

Mychael poured a cup and passed it to Imala Kalis.

“Thank you, Paladin.”

“Mychael.”

She flashed a smile, complete with that increasingly famous dimple. “Imala.”

Tam muttered something else.

“Oh here,” I said, pushing a coffee and pastry at him. “Eat this and put us out of your misery.”

He glared, but he ate.

“You okay?” I asked.

He growled around a bite of pastry.

I took that as a yes. Note to self: Tam is not a morning person.

Imala was looking at Mychael and me with a quizzical look on her face; a moment later quizzical turned to slyly knowing.

“Pardon my bluntness, Mychael and Miss Benares. But the two of you smell of smoke—and Nebian black powder.”

We’d cleaned up while on the Red Hawk, but apparently not enough to fool a goblin’s heightened sense of smell.

Mychael didn’t say anything. I certainly wasn’t going to admit to bombing and arson.

Imala Kalis’s lips turned up in a secretive little smile as if the two of us stinking of smoke had made her day.

“Markus is alive,” she whispered.

Mychael’s expression didn’t change one iota. Heck, he didn’t even bat an eye.

She waved her tiny hand that was holding a pastry. “But of course, you can’t tell me that. Quite all right, I understand completely. Though about the black powder . . . What you did—excuse me, may have done . . . The evidence is merely circumstantial, of course.” She actually winked at us. “Well-done. I wish I could have been there to see it, better yet to have helped. Bravo.”

I was getting told that a lot lately.

Mychael frowned. “While we are being blunt, Director Kalis—”

“Imala,” the tiny goblin corrected him.

“Imala. You spoke of Prince Chigaru Mal’Salin.”

“His name was mentioned, but not by me.”

“My question concerns his chief counselor. I recently sent a message to A’Zahra Nuru asking that she come to Mid. She sent word back that she would come. She has not arrived, nor have I received communication from her explaining—”

“Considering the present situation with Sarad Nukpana, I told Grandmother I didn’t feel it was safe for her or the prince—”

I blurted, “A’Zahra Nuru is your grandmother?”

“She is.”

I looked from Mychael to Tam. “Why didn’t either one of you tell me this?”

Imala shot Tam an arch look. “Tam prefers not to speak of me at all.”

“It is a relationship that not many are aware of,” Mychael explained.

My look spoke volumes and all of them loud. “Since when have I been one of the many?”

“Raine, you just met Imala last night, and I’m seeing her this morning for the first time in at least a year.”

“Almost two,” Imala said.

“And it’s been a busy evening,” Mychael reminded me. Like I needed reminding.

Imala took a delighted sniff of our collective smokiness. “And satisfying, I would say.”

In more ways than one. I felt myself blush.

Tam looked at me and his eyes widened slightly. I suddenly found the coffee in my cup simply fascinating. When I glanced back up at him, his eyes were still on mine, but they weren’t accusing or angry as I’d thought they might be. Tam’s gentle gaze told me that he understood. A moment later, I felt his lips brush my forehead in a warm kiss. He still stood three feet in front of me. He hadn’t moved, but had reached out with our umi’atsu bond. I gave him a small smile and sent a kiss to his cheek. Tam looked at Mychael and raised his cup in salute, as if to acknowledge the victory of a noble and worthy opponent. Mychael inclined his head in response.

Imala gave us all a quick, knowing look but didn’t say a word.

I realized that I’d been holding my breath.

“That doesn’t explain what’s going on with you two,” I said, changing the subject with no attempt at subtlety. I waved my finger back and forth between Tam and Imala. “I’m a little confused by something; actually I’m a lot confused. Tam, A’Zahra Nuru was your teacher; you trust her. You’ve said it yourself.” I didn’t mention that she was also the one who helped pull him back from the brink of the black magic abyss. Imala might not know that and if she didn’t, she wasn’t going to hear it from me. “And Mychael, you wouldn’t have asked A’Zahra Nuru here unless you trusted her. Am I correct in both instances, gentlemen?”

“You are,” Mychael said.

Tam nodded once.

“So what’s your problem with her?” I jerked my thumb at Imala Kalis and aimed my question directly at Tam.

“Imala is not her grandmother,” Tam said stiffly.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect that she is. From what I overheard, she wants Sathrik out; and from what I assume, she wants Chigaru in. While I’m not the prince’s biggest fan, getting rid of Sathrik sounds like one hell of a good idea. So what’s with the animosity?”

“It’s complicated,” Tam said.

“You’re a goblin, Tam,” I said flatly. “Everything’s complicated. You were the queen’s magical enforcer, and Imala is the head of the secret service. You were both serving in the court at the same time.”

“We were.”

“Considering your jobs, you’d think you’d have common ground.”

Imala blew out her breath through her nose. “You would think that, wouldn’t you?”

“So all you two did was piss each other off on a daily basis?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Imala conceded. “Weekly would be more accurate.”

“How pissed?”

Tam scowled. “She stabbed me.”

Imala snorted. “A mere flesh wound. He had driven me quite beyond rational thought.”

“Yeah, he’s done the same to me. In other words, he deserved it.”

“I thought so.”

“She tried to kill me,” Tam protested.

Imala turned on Tam in exasperation. “If I had truly tried, you would not be here.”

Tam glared at her. “And if I had truly desired retaliation, you would no longer exist.”

I clapped my hands together. “So, as far as goblin behavior is concerned, you two sound downright cozy.”

“Cozy is not in Imala’s vocabulary, and apparently neither is loyalty.”

“Tam is referring to the fact that I remained in the Mal’Salin family service after he left. He sees this as a betrayal of the late Queen Glicara.”

“You serve Sathrik; enough said.”

“I believe we have been sufficiently over this ground—I serve the goblin people.”

“By carrying out Sathrik’s orders?”

“I do my job and I remain in power; but most important, I continue to gain influence with the people we will need.”

“We. You persist in using that word. Leave me out of this.”

“You’re in it whether you like it or not, and I had nothing to do with it. The fault is yours. Your relationship with Miss Benares has hardly gone unnoticed. Not ten minutes go by in the court without me hearing her name.”

“I’m famous in the goblin court,” I muttered. “Great. Just great.”

“Notorious would be a more apt description,” Imala told me. “Tam has thwarted Sathrik’s attempts to capture you, and he has spat in the face of the king’s commands.” She turned to Tam. “Your reasons are your own, but Sathrik has labeled your actions treason. Over the past few months, you have defied him at every turn.” Imala stopped and positively beamed. “Grandmother and I couldn’t be more proud.”

Since we’d set foot in the room, I’d had my eye on the biggest, most decadent-looking pastry on the tray. I handed it to Tam instead; he looked like he needed it. “Well, it looks like you can take the boy out of the court, but you can’t take the court out of the boy,” I said softly. “Tam, you should have walked away from me. Cancel that—you should have run.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know. Imala said you’re going to have to choose sides. I’d say you’ve already chosen. And when Sathrik made Rudra Muralin goblin ambassador, that wasn’t just to help him get the Saghred or me—it was to give him the authority he needed to legally take you out, wasn’t it?”

Tam’s silence answered for him.

“You needn’t concern yourself about Rudra any longer, Miss Benares.” Imala Kalis sank her dainty fangs into a pastry. “He isn’t missing. He’s quite dead.”