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We gathered our things and headed out of the house to where the guys were waiting. Trillian, Smoky, and Chase were there. I looked at the detective. I’d expected him to go back to the station, but he shook his head.
“I told Yugi that until we take care of Hyto, I’m on leave. Officially, I’m on sick leave.” As we climbed in the cars to head back to the barrow, I realized just how grateful I was for my family and friends. They were everything to me.
The drive back toward Mount Rainier and the Puyallup Valley was fraught with cars swerving on the ice. Highway 167 was insane, but we finally managed to get away from the mishmash of rush-hour traffic—and rush hour was about three hours long around here—and drive through the back roads to the turnoff leading to Smoky’s land.
We were nearly to the barrow when Smoky asked me to turn up the drive instead. Over the past months, he’d created a rough road leading closer to the barrow so we didn’t have to park at the house.
But now we stopped in front of the house where Tom Lane—Tam Lin—used to live when Titania had hung out on the land, bothering Smoky, deep in her cups. Things had changed so much, in a little over a year—so much so it was hard to remember what life had been like before we’d taken on Bad-Ass Luke and first found ourselves thrust into a demonic war.
As we got out, Smoky motioned for just Delilah and me to join him. We headed up the steps, toward the glowing lights that emanated from within the house. Smoky knocked lightly, and within seconds, the door opened.
Estelle Dugan stood there, eyeing us with a half smile. “He’s practicing his swordsmanship today.”
Smoky nodded. “Any better?”
She shook her head. “I’d invite you in, but I’m trying to keep him calm. He fades in and out, but yes, for now he has some semblance of . . . where he is. But I think Georgio is long gone. It’s just St. George left.” She smiled then, fully, looking like a mother glowing over her child.
St. George. Georgio Profeta. We’d first met last year, when he was prowling around our windows. Don Quixote, jousting at windmills. Lancelot, trying to win fair Guinevere. Georgio was every wounded hero who’d found a real live dragon to slay. With his plastic armor and his toy sword, he’d struck at Smoky. And Smoky—being who he was—let the poor man live. Even took him in, set him up with a nurse. No one mentioned it much—Smoky wasn’t one for praise—but we all knew that he felt sorry for the man. That somehow, Georgio had touched his dragon’s heart.
“I want you to be careful. I have guards out in the forests, but I tell you now: My father is on the loose and he’s out for blood. Keep St. George inside. My father doesn’t care for humans.” Smoky stared at Estelle for a moment. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
She shook her head. “No, Lord Smoky. We are well taken care of. I will watch over Georgio. He’s . . . I’m all he’s got, you know. As far as humans go.”
Smoky nodded. “I know. That’s why I check on you every few days. If you should see anyone strange lurking around—especially someone who looks like me—be sure to call the guards the way I told you to. Tell them to come get me immediately. If I send for you, come immediately to the barrow.”
And then we turned and, without another word, descended the stairs. I glanced up at the moon, needing her strength. Needing her comfort. “I need to be outside when we return to the barrow. I need to meditate beneath the Moon Mother.”>Motioning for the others to remain behind, I silently walked into the living room, afraid to look at my father. Afraid to see that he might be here on business only. It had torn me up to lose his love and support, but he’d forced a choice I couldn’t make in his favor. He’d given me an ultimatum, and I’d responded the only way I could—the only way my conscience would allow.
He was sitting there, his hair a braided mirror of my own, his eyes the same misty lilac color as my own. He glanced up. I couldn’t read his expression. As I approached the sofa where he sat, he stood, holding my gaze.
I nodded. Let him be the first to speak. Let him take the reins so I’d know what I was dealing with.
“Camille . . .” His voice was edgy, unsure.
“Welcome to our home, Ambassador. What can I do for you? Or would you rather speak to Delilah? I know just what you think of me.” My voice took on a raw edge as the words spilled out, unbidden, unplanned.
Father stared at me. First came the challenge—but he’d taught me well, and I said nothing more. Just waited, unwilling to look away or blink. Would he reach out? Would he open his arms to me? Or would he be cold and professional and say what he had to say?
After a moment, he quietly reached inside his pocket and pulled out a folded paper. “I bring you a letter from your Aunt Rythwar. She bade me deliver it—in fact, she insisted. I also make one last plea: You have not yet joined Aeval’s Court. Turn away and you will be welcomed back into Tanaquar’s presence again. And . . . into mine.”
So . . . it was the latter. I slowly picked up the letter and stared at it, then set it back down on the table. With a long look at Father, I walked over to the window and stared out at the snow that was piling up.
“Do you know where I spent the last few days?” When he didn’t answer, I shrugged. “No, of course you wouldn’t. And you wouldn’t care.” Turning around, I touched the collar locked around my throat. “You see this? A dragon captured me. He raped me, he beat me senseless. My body is covered with his bruises and the feel of his hands. His collar is locked on until we can kill him. He’s out there, now, looking for me.”
Sephreh let out a little cry, but I ignored it. I continued on, my voice as hard and cold as I could make it.
“But I escaped. I climbed down a snow-covered mountain, terrified and exhausted. My family was searching for me. I kept hope . . . because, you see, they love me. They stand behind me. I kept hope because I know there’s a demonic war brewing and we’re waiting for Shadow Wing’s next move.”
“Please, stop—”
“No! I will have my say and you will listen. This is my house, not yours. I kept up hope because my goddess offered me strength when the darkness threatened to engulf me. When I was bleeding from the beatings. When Hyto held my head down, forcing me to suck his cock. When my father-in-law kicked me across the rock floor like an abused dog . . . I escaped because I knew what I needed to do. Because people who love me were looking for me. Because I was raised to be the daughter of a soldier, to never give up.”
“Camille—” My father let out a strangled cry, his expression stricken. “Please understand . . .”
“Not anymore. No more. I took over for Mother when she died. I kept my sisters going. You put that responsibility on my shoulders, and I willingly accepted it. But I’m no longer your obedient servant.” I shook my head at him. “I don’t exist to you, do I? I’m no longer your daughter. I’m dead to you. Why should I have expected you to give a fuck? Why did I hope you’d care?”
“You don’t understand! My duty to the Court and Crown—”
“You chose the Court and Crown over your family. I hope that Tanaquar keeps you warm in the winter, that she doesn’t toss you out if you lose your usefulness to her. Because you’ve made it clear you no longer need us.”
