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She tossed her head, pouting. “I elected to answer your call, Bligh. You should feel fortunate.”
“I’m just surprised. You were with Scathach at the academy when last I saw you.”
Aeval’s pout turned to a frown, and she shrugged. “Scathach’s love of Mortal and Other wore thin.” Obviously realizing she’d lost her dominance by falling into conversation, she drew herself up and locked him with a freezing stare. Even her voice became cold as a knife blade. “If you seek the reliquary, it is safe. But Asher’s army sniffs close. Should the Keun Marow find it, their numbers would surely overwhelm the guard we’ve placed it under. Your time runs short.”
“I know. The turning of the season is a week away. And the stones of Ilcum Bledh are close. Asher will have to face me there if he wants to reclaim the casket and free his brothers.”
“And if he chooses to stay away?”
“He won’t. He knows I have the one who can fulfill the molleth set upon the casket. He’ll come to stop me.”
“Then all is set to our satisfaction. Why bother us until the time?”
He needed to play this just right. He bowed his head as if in supplication. Aeval would like that. She enjoyed subservience in her men and her mortals. When he met her gaze once more, his stare was as hard and as ruthless as hers, and his unyielding stance was that of the most powerful amhas-draoi. She would never hear him out any other way.
Her eyes widened, but only for a moment, and then a slow smile tipped her lips. “You seek something else?” Her eyes studied him with new interest, and she shifted on her pony, allowing him a view of the graceful curve of her breasts.
“Answers,” he said. “Is there another way to reseal the reliquary? A way that doesn’t involve fulfilling the blood curse? The fey must know.”
“But you have said you have the one who must be sacrificed. Why do you seek another way?”
Conor’s heart quickened, his hands clenched into fists at his side. “I would spare an innocent if I could. It’s not her crime that she’s paying for with her life.”
Aeval’s reaction was instant. She sat up, her hands gripping the pony’s mane so cruelly that it tossed its head. Her eyes snapped with anger. Even the men accompanying her stepped back. “Her?” she said. “That is what this is about? You wish to spare your lover the knife?”
He didn’t allow himself a reaction. That’s what Aeval wanted. Instead, he took a deep breath. Let it out slowly before he spoke again. “Only a trick of birth sends her down this path. Please. If you know of another way, tell me.”
She sneered. “The great Conor Bligh begging? The most powerful Other to walk among mortals in ten generations is pleading for his latest bedsport? You demean yourself—and me, amhas-draoi. Must I remind you where your loyalties lie? There is no other way. If you are to put an end to Asher’s threat, you must sacrifice the woman.” She yanked her pony’s head around to leave. Her silent companions moved with her. “You’re all that stands between Asher and the destruction he plans for Mortal and fey. Don’t fail us, Bligh.”
He clamped his jaw tight, holding back the yell of rage that burned his throat. Never had he fought so hard to remain in control. Never had the burden of his power been so great.
“Wait,” he called, almost forgetting the other reason he had for coming here. “Glynnis Bligh, Talan’s lady-wife. She was found dead near here this morning. Did you see anything? Did anyone among you?”
Aeval paused. Bending to converse silently with the other two, she twisted in her saddle to look back at him. “Sometimes discovering the truth about the one you love is painful, amhas-draoi. And sometimes it kills.”
She threw her head back and laughed as the shimmers overtook them and the hill closed, leaving him standing alone among the barrows with only the wind for company.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was intolerable. All of it. The growing heat. The vile human form he wore. The whining subservience of the few Keun Marow he allowed in his exquisite presence. Even the amusing Other he’d taken on as a pet was beginning to tire him. The creature’s failure to follow through on his boast that he could steal away the soldier’s brat had only worsened the situation. Bligh was on his guard. He’d not let a slip like that happen again.
As if cued, Bligh’s kinsman flung himself into the room without knocking, a further offense. He’d grown foolish, almost reckless in his insolence. “It’s true,” he said. “I wouldn’t believe it from those monsters watching the house, but I’ve gone myself. She’s dead.”
Asher had a momentary stab of excitement before he understood. The old woman. This simpleton’s mother. Not Miss Reskeen. “They do not lie,” he said, giving him a pointed look. “They know better.”
Simon shifted from foot to foot. “You didn’t…I mean…You weren’t involved?”
A tight, cruel smile curled Asher’s lips. “And if I were? It would only be fitting after the debacle with that Reskeen baggage. She should be here. Now. Mine.”
“Conor’s strong—stronger than you thought.” The man’s voice sounded almost proud. Defiant.
A black madness boiled through Asher. “Bligh is nothing. An abomination like all the Other. He will die as those amhas-draoi before him. Painfully.”
Simon drew himself up, his eyes flashing. “The Other are more powerful than the true fey realize or wish to believe. They may surprise you one day.”
“Enough.” Asher’s frustration and impatience took shape. He lashed out, the dark energy licking through him like venom.
Simon swallowed convulsively before he slumped back in a chair, his face bone-white, the boldness wiped away.
