Finbar fidgets with his tie. “Yes, well . . . it was more than lovely meeting you at last, Daughter of Fire. I hope you’ll consider the House of Cernunnos as your home.”
“You are very lovely,” Duncan says, absently. He turns to glare at me, like it’s my fault that Sage has no self-control.
Astrid seems reluctant to leave, adding, “Perhaps we could have tea sometime soon.” She actually sounds genuine, which I don’t see as a good sign. She probably wants to gain Sage’s trust to help the House win her.
Sage glances away, like she’s considering the idea. She nods. “Sure. That would be nice.” And then she grins her street-kid grin. “We’ll make it a thing.”
Astrid blinks, and it’s clear that Sage has caught the hunter off guard. “Yes, all right, then. I’ll have my secretary contact yours.”
Sage nods but her lips press together. “Sounds good.”
Once they’re gone she leans over and whispers in my ear, “Did she seriously just say her people would call my people?”
I’m relieved. It seems that she wasn’t taken in by my brothers’ power or beauty. Not yet, anyway.
The priest begins calling out the titles of the House of Morrígan, and we both go still, the air growing thick with tension. The last and highest House of the Penta walk forward like an unkindness of ravens descending, all black hair and pale skin, Princess Mara’s red dress a strike of bloody crimson in the low torchlight.
Kieran stays just behind his sister, his charcoal suit tailored to perfection.
Sage’s chin lifts like she’s trying to look taller and braver. But her fear bellows out in a thin gold mist that I’m sure Kieran and Mara can see.
Princess Mara nods slightly, looking sideways at Sage. The Princess of Bones is well known for how perfectly she embodies the dark power of her mother. She is the first daughter of blood, her eyes sharp and full of crafty ambition. A smirk twists her crimson lips like she has a secret. She would be a stunning beauty, but her skin is too pale, nearly violet. Thin veins web along her hairline, showing through at her temples and jaw, and dark circles rim her silver-blue eyes. A male shade kneels at her feet on a satin leash.
When Sage notices the rope tied to the thin young man’s throat, her head pulls back a little.
“Welcome to the fold, sweet child,” Princess Mara says, her voice silky. “The House of Morrígan covets your consideration. The blood of Brighid and Morrígan have a history of affection; our goddess mothers being sisters, your sister having been Bonded to my brother—these things make us sisters as well, I think.”
It’s difficult for me to accept her words. Words of kindness directed to the sister of the queen who killed their beloved king? But Mara is always hunting for more power. She would likely see Sage as a means to an end. As would Kieran.
Sage’s throat moves as she glances between the two of them, her wary gaze landing on Kieran.
“You needn’t be afraid, princess,” Mara says. “My brother is firmly in hand. He’s been properly admonished for his clumsy encounter with you the other night. I can understand why you didn’t choose him as your protector. But perhaps in time your thoughts toward him will change.” Her secret smile appears again.
Kieran moves forward and bows deeply, playing his role, looking surprisingly contrite. “I ask for mercy, Princess Sage. You shouldn’t judge my sister by my actions. It’s clear that your power exceeds even my own understanding.” He rises and steps a little closer. He takes a moment to study her, his gaze lingering on her neck where he cut her. Then he whispers, “You outshine the moon tonight, little doe.”
Sage just stares at him, her chest rising and falling quickly.
It takes every ounce of my control to keep from grabbing him and using my dagger to shut him up. I’d get great satisfaction from cutting out that forked tongue.
He doesn’t even allow me the courtesy of checking with me—her protector—before he closes the rest of the distance between them and places a small black velvet bag at her feet. “A humble gift from the past. We hope it will bring you peace.”
Sage looks down at it but doesn’t move to take it.
“Open it,” he orders quietly, locking his eyes to hers.
Her breath catches. And she bends slowly to pick it up.
Ice crawls through my veins as I realize his effect on her. She’s spellbound. I can barely believe my eyes, but he’s clearly more than a threat to her safety. Is he really willing to go as far as to seduce her? Especially after what her sister did to his brother? It can’t possibly work.
Goddess, don’t let it work.
She unties the ribbon and opens the bag, then tips it over her palm. A medallion on a chain tumbles out. A necklace. But as she holds it up, I realize it’s so much more than that.
It’s Queen Lily’s torque. The ancient piece of jewelry was forged out of bronze metal, an intricate knotted design for fire woven in the circle, and an amber stone embedded in the center with a small moth preserved inside.
A piece of history that hasn’t been seen for centuries.
“It was your sister’s, long ago,” Kieran says to her.
“Where did you get that?” I ask, my harsh tone breaking the moment. I glare at Kieran, daring him to tell the truth. “That belongs to the House of Brighid.” It disappeared from the vault around the time of Queen Lily’s imprisonment. Marius assumed the goddess had taken it back, since the legend was that she’d given it to her first daughter personally. What is Kieran playing at?
Kieran ignores my objection. “I hope you’re pleased, princess. I know the torque you’re wearing is weak, and your power can be . . . unpredictable.”
Sage’s fingers shake as she drops the necklace back into the black bag. “Thank you,” she says, barely audible. She clenches the bag in her fist.
Princess Mara nods in satisfaction, and Kieran bows again. Just before they walk away, he turns to me, his eyes hardening in warning as he says under his breath, “Keep her safe for us, hunter.”
I glare back at him, forcing myself not to put a dent in his smug face. He’s a pompous ass, thinking Sage is his because of some forgotten ancient right. She’s not a toy for him to play with. Fortunately, he leaves, following Mara and the rest of the dark clan.
Sage releases her breath and deflates a little, leaning on me for a second.
“You all right?” I ask, trying to gauge her reaction.
She presses her fingers into her temples, shaking her head. “I feel like I’m gonna be sick.”
The pixie, Brea, leaps to her feet, bowing in front of Sage. “May I fetch you some poultice for your ailment, princess?”
Sage cringes back, her mouth open, like she’s not sure how to react.
This isn’t going to work. “That would be lovely, Brea,” I say. “The princess will have the winter mint, though,” I add, hoping to be rid of her quickly.