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She closed her eyes. Tried to remember back to the days after her father’s death. The confusion. The grief. And then the excitement at finally escaping the camps for a normal life here in England. “I do remember something like that. But I haven’t seen it in ages. It must have been lost during the journey. Or stolen.” She offered him a pointed look. “It’s more than likely you stole the thing yourself.”
“It was looted. Twice. Once by the French and again by the English.”
“By you?”
He shrugged off her question. “After the fighting was over, it was every man for himself. Five million gold francs are hard to pass up when until then all you’ve had is the King’s shilling.”
Weary of arguing and seeing she wasn’t going to get any more straight answers, she shook him off. “I’m going to bed. You can sleep down here tonight, but I expect you gone by the time I wake.”
“You trust me?”
She thought about it. “If you wanted to harm me, you could have done it at least half a dozen times already. Trust you? No, not hardly. But I trust those things out there even less.” She gave a dry laugh. “Besides, after the welcome I gave you, a dry place to sleep is the least I can do to make amends.”
She started down the narrow hall to the stairs, but his voice drew her to a halt. “And the reliquary?”
She chose to ignore his question. “Good night, Mr. Bligh. And if I’m lucky, good-bye.”
A long silence followed. Ellery waited, listening for the stinging retort or the sarcastic comment, but none came. She climbed the stairs, slowing her steps as if she hoped for some word from him and annoyed with herself for doing so. She laid a hand on her bedchamber door.
His voice rose up the stairs, deep and calming after the disturbing events of the night. “Nos dha, Ellery Reskeen. Sleep well.”
And somehow deep in the corners of her heart, she knew that for the first time in months, she would.
Chapter Three
The man standing at the window, staring out on the dark London park, worked at his pose of indifference. What he really felt was a burning rage that curled through him like a nest of snakes. “You lost him?”
Asher Jevan was not a man who liked failure. The reptilian creatures behind him whimpered, sniveling their apologies. “We thought his grief would weaken him,” the leader of the two answered. “His sister’s death was a blow.” The words hissed through jagged-sharp teeth.
Asher had a moment’s satisfaction at that past success, but it was gone almost immediately. Conor Bligh was a much bigger problem. The eldest of the Jevan brothers spun on his heel to stand before the pair of cringing death hounds.
Hounds in name only, the fey hunters could follow scent or blood if called to. What set them apart was the ability to track the mage energy any fey gave off, and use that energy to grow stronger. More powerful. It’s what made them hated and feared by human and faery alike and why Asher relied upon them. They were perfect for his purpose.
“You had strict instructions to keep your distance,” he said.
“To track Bligh,
but not to hinder his search. ’Tis he who shall lead us to the reliquary.”
The leader of the Keun Marow bowed his head. “We did only as you ordered. Caught us following, he did and laid in wait for our passing. We’d no choice.”
“And the pack of you couldn’t subdue him?” As if expecting a blow, the fey hunter hunched over, the bones of his spine pressing against the skin of his back. His nose slits widened as his breath came loud and raspy with fear. “Weren’t at full strength. A scouting party broke off to follow another scent. Magic. Faint, but potent. Thought we could take him with a smaller number.”
“Some peasant’s get with a touch of the Other about him took you away from your task?”
“No, milord. The mage energy was unlike any we’ve scented. Wild, flowing in ways we’ve never seen. Magic beyond our kenning.”
Wild magic? New magic? Something that even as old as he was, he’d not felt or seen before? This interested him. Not enough to break off his hunt of Conor Bligh. That held a two-fold purpose that could not be postponed.
The amhas-draoi would find him the reliquary, and once the casket was discovered and the three Jevan brothers reunited, Bligh would serve as a feast for his growing pack of Keun Marow. The power of the greatest member of the legendary brotherhood would enrich and strengthen the death hounds ten-fold. Make them an army to be reckoned with.
“Very well. Keep your watch on Bligh, but instruct your followers to track this new scent as well.” He grabbed the creature by the neck, his fingers tightening around the beast’s throat. Its nose slits flared as it fought to breathe. “Don’t let me hear of a second failure. And don’t underestimate Bligh. He may be a half-breed, but the raw magic of the fey in him has been tempered to a keen edge under the schooling of Scathach. The ranks of the amhas-draoi haven’t seen his like in a thousand years. He has the power to strip you to bones if he chooses. Be grateful his foolish honor forbids it.”
A flash of light, then the stench of charred flesh and the leader of the Keun Marow was naught more than a pile of putrid ash. Asher wrinkled his nose as he dusted off his hands. “I work under no such restraints.”
He turned his gaze on the second creature cowering before him. “Bring me the reliquary and Conor Bligh. The first must be unharmed. My brothers’ lives are bound to it. The amhas-draoi can come to me in any form as long as he still lives. His meddling at San Salas postponed our return. His death will be slow.”
“And the second source of magic?” the Keun Marow’s new leader asked.
