Bone Magic

“While we’re on the subject, why did you fuck me if you already knew about Morio and Smoky? You just want to get in one good last screw before you kick me out of your life?”

That did it. Trillian dropped to his knees beside me, his eyes downcast. He reached for my hand and I yanked it away.

“I’m sorry, Camille. I apologize. I just get so . . . you do something to me that no other woman does. You always have, from the first time I set eyes on you in the Collequia. Svartans aren’t supposed to mate for life, not like this. But from the first time you told me off . . . the first time you kissed me . . . the first time I took you to bed and tasted just how sweet you are. I knew from the beginning I’d never be able to forget you.”

Hello, this was new. Trillian detested sentimentality. What the hell was going on? “Are you okay? You aren’t sick or anything, are you?” I gazed into his eyes, trying to read him.

He reached for me again and this time I let him take my hand. He stroked my palm gently, then wrapped his fingers over my own.

“No, I’m not sick. The past months while I’ve been on assignment, I saw more death and torture than I ever wanted to. Up close and personal. You weren’t far off base in your worries. There was a point where Lethesanar’s men caught me. They decided to teach me a lesson before handing me over to the Opium Eater. They . . .”

He choked, his words thick in his throat as he stared hard at the floor. My gut told me that something horrible had happened. I put my other hand on his.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. We’re two of a kind, Trillian. I won’t turn away from you.” And I meant every word.

Slowly, he met my gaze. “One of the guards was a big bruiser. They caught me in the forests of Darkynwyrd, a couple of days after I stopped at Darynal’s. Camille, you know I’m no lover of men. It’s not in my nature.”

Oh hell. I knew what was coming and I didn’t want to hear it. It would kill his ego to admit it, but as the words began to spill out, I realized that he needed to talk. To tell me his horrible secret.

“Strall. That was the guard’s name. The night they caught me, they dragged me over next to the fire where he was waiting. The men held me down, pushed me onto my knees in front of him, and he forced me to blow him. And then, when I was done, the men turned me over and held me down while he reamed me up the ass.”

Trillian stared at the wall as he spoke, his voice clear and unwavering, but the control he was exerting over his emotions was so tremendous that I could actually feel it vibrate through him.

I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to pull him into my arms but I knew that it wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t done talking, so I just squeezed his hand, bringing it up to my lips where I gently kissed his palm.

Trillian’s mouth tightened. “This went on for three nights. The fourth night, I’d had enough. I figured it was better to die than let them abuse me any further. But when Strall came to me that night, the other men weren’t with him. I suppose they were off gathering firewood. They’d gotten lazy, complacent out there. Stupid motherfuckers.”

“Maybe they thought they’d broken you,” I whispered.

He shrugged. “Perhaps. But it never pays to take chances in Darkynwyrd. Or with a Svartan. Or a mercenary. Anyway, Strall had to untie me in order to get what he wanted. I waited for the right moment. When he grabbed me by the hair and was forcing his cock toward my mouth, I took one big bite and spit it out on the ground. While he was screaming, I took his knife and eviscerated him.”

His voice was deadly calm. Trillian could be ruthless. I knew right there that none of the men had made it out alive, and that they’d all died with fear in their eyes.

“As the other men came back one by one,” he continued, “I surprised them. They were carrying firewood. They’d gone a ways into the forest and apparently hadn’t heard him scream. Either that or they thought it was me. They paid the price for their lack of caution.”

“Did you make them hurt, love?” I whispered, leaning close to his face.

He nodded.

“Good. I hope they knew you were going to kill them.”

Lethesanar was famous for her tortures, and she’d taught her most fawning guards well. My father had stayed on the perimeter of the Guard Des’Estar as things grew worse and the men grew more violent. Had he ever witnessed events like this? Had he been forced to stand by and watch? I didn’t know. But then again, Father had been cross-posted, working with both the Guard and the OIA. Everyone had known how strict he was, so chances were any raping and pillaging had been done well out of his sight.

Trillian sat on the bed next to me, his shoulders slumped. “I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want you to know how bad things were. After I escaped, I managed to catch up with some of Tanaquar’s forces and they guided me safely back to her camp. I’d been searching for your father, but apparently he managed to escape on his own. After that incident, I spent some time helping out with interrogations, but I’d lost my appetite for it. I’m a mercenary, yes, but I’m not a sadist. Not unless the situation demands it.”

I shook my head. “I know you’re not.” I paused, then said, “Chase was captured by the R?ksasa. We’re not sure just what went on, but at best, he lost part of his little finger. At worst . . . we don’t know. We saved him, but the experience changed him. How could it not? Delilah doesn’t talk about it much and he won’t talk about it at all, but I can see it in his eyes.”

“Fucking demon spawn,” Trillian said, hitting the wall next to us. “Chase is human. He isn’t cut out to withstand that sort of torture. What else has happened, my love? I knew about Smoky and Morio and you. Your father forewarned me. Now I’m thinking he hoped it would chase me off your tail, but the truth is, Camille, as angry as I was—as much as I hate sharing you with that lizard—you and I are forever bound.”

I filled him in on everything from Karvanak to losing the third spirit seal to the Karsetii demon that had almost devoured Delilah’s soul, to the nerds from hell and what we were up against now.

“We’ve been busy,” I said softly. “Trillian, now that we’ve talked, I want to ask you something.”

He gazed at me, then lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “What?”

“Will you marry me? I want you to join us in the Soul Symbiont ritual. You and I are bound by the Eleshinar ritual, but if we’re going to be bound by body, why not just go all the way and be bound by soul? I would be honored to take you as my mate and to call you husband.”

My heart skipped a beat. What if he said no? What if he couldn’t face being around Smoky when I had sex with the dragon? What if he was too angry because of the attack to even think of returning to our relationship?

But Trillian just gazed in my eyes with those icy baby-blues, and a slow, cynical grin spread across his face. “You have a penchant for dangerous and damaged men, my love. Your tastes run to the dark, and now you are practicing death magic with Fox Boy? Camille, there’s only one person I’d ever consider marrying, especially through that ritual. So, yes, my love . . . if you’ll forgive me for calling you a traitor, I will join your harem and be your husband. But never, ever forget, I always have been—and will always be—your alpha lover.”

“I know,” I whispered as he laid me down in his arms again. “Oh, believe me, I know. But you aren’t damaged, Trillian. You are wild and passionate and free. We’ve all been at the mercy of our enemies, and chances are, we’ll all be dancing with the devil again. But as long as we have our dignity, then walking wounded or not, we remain strong. And as long as we’re together, nothing—not even death—can tear us apart.”

And then Trillian began to make slow, passionate love to me, and all my worries vanished in the wash of his arms, in the taste of his lips, and the feel of his skin gliding against mine.

CHAPTER 13

By the time we’d washed and dressed, a messenger was at the door requesting our presence in the King’s chamber. I did my best to smooth out my clothes and Trillian handed me his brush, so my hair wasn’t flying wild with after-sex frizz. All in all, according to the mirror on the wall, I washed up pretty good.

Trillian slapped a starberry muffin in my hand. Munching on it, I followed him through the streets, back to the palace. I didn’t have time to look around, but I knew that I wanted to return when we had more time. Dahnsburg was clean, and it felt old, with mysterious doorways and curious shops that promised adventure and damned good shopping.

We reached the outer courts just in time to see my father coming down the path. He looked at Trillian, then at me, then rolled his eyes.

“You two have been busy,” he said softly.

It occurred to me that although Father was full-blooded Fae, he might actually have a problem with his daughters actually sleeping with men. Or women. But it wasn’t something I could ask him, especially in front of Trillian.

I flashed him a slap-happy grin. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you a grandpa.” Yet. Smoky’s little bomb about fathering a child on me was still exploding in the back of my mind. I had to find some way out of that one. Delilah could have a litter of young ones and I’d love them all—cat or Were—but babies weren’t my style.

“I certainly hope not,” Father said. “You’ve got enough problems as it is.” But then he relented and held out his hand to Trillian. “I have an errand to run. I’ll be back in a bit.” He paused. “Trillian, look out for my daughter.”

Trillian stared at Father’s hand, then slowly took it. “As always, Sephreh. As her lover, her life comes before mine. And—” He crooked his lip into that damned arrogant smile that was both so appealing and so irritating. “—as her husband-to-be, I’ll do everything in my power to make certain she’s happy.”

Father stopped in mid-step. “Husband? So you’re actually going to marry Camille?” He reminded me of a flipbook, going from disbelief to distress in a single leap.

“I will join her harem, yes,” Trillian said, repressing a grin. I wanted to give him a good kick, but Father had been on his case for so long that I couldn’t really blame him.

“So, is this happy news true, Camille?” Father looked anything but happy.

I sucked in a deep breath. “I know you told Trillian that I married Smoky and Morio because you wanted to try to break us up, but it won’t work. I love Trillian. He’s my alpha lover and he’s willing to undergo the Soul Symbiont ritual with us. So yes, he will be my third—and, I sincerely hope, last—husband. Let it go, it’s a done deal, it’s going to happen, and there’s nothing you can say to change it. I should have never left him in the first place.”

Trillian wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “And I should have never let you go. We’re fated to be together, and there’s nothing you can do when the Hags take an interest in your life.”

Father looked us up and down and then, sounding the most human I’d ever heard, uttered one word. “Crap.”

I sputtered. “Excuse me, but shouldn’t that be congratulations ?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Trillian said, making it worse. “Maybe you can come visit us Earthside and we’ll take in a few holes of golf.”

Sephreh blinked. Without another word, he marched over, kissed me on the forehead, shook his head disgustedly at Trillian, then stomped off. But as he climbed in the carriage, he turned to wave good-bye and he was smiling.

Trillian kissed my cheek. “I think he’s coming around. We’ll be best buddies in no time.”

“You wish,” I muttered. “Come on, I’ve got an audience with the King.”

“As do I,” Morio said, coming up behind us. Iris was nowhere in sight.

“What?” I twirled.

“A messenger found me in the marketplace and told me to join you in the throne room.” He held up a cloth bag. “I found some fascinating spell components there.”

“Come on, woman.” Trillian gave me a little shove forward. “We’d better get our butts in gear.”

He led us through the maze of gardens toward the central tent. As we passed close to the cloth panels, the material brushed against my arm. Basket weave, it was durable, and yet finely crafted.

“What’s this made of?” I reached out to touch the panel. Soft under my fingers, it tingled with a faint buzz. “There’s magic woven into the cloth.”

“You think?” Trillian arched his eyebrows. “These are the walls of the palace. Unlike stone or mortar or brick or marble, cloth isn’t quite as effective in stopping little things like cannons or fireballs. Of course the material is enchanted. The tents that make up the palace have protective energy woven into every strand, every thread.”

And then we were at the door leading into the throne room. Trillian stood to the side, waiting for us outside as one of the Dahns guards led us on. We followed the unicorn, who looked dangerously large and powerful, up the cobbled path that separated twin courts cushioned with moss and an occasional stone bench. The walls of the tent were a good twenty feet high, held up by an intricate system of cross-bars and I wondered how the unicorns had erected them.

Then, I saw exactly how they had managed the task. Around the perimeter, manning the guylines and counterweights, stood several large centaurs. Male centaurs. Very well-endowed centaurs. Suddenly blushing, I looked away. I didn’t need any new fantasy fodder—I had plenty of it in reality, but man, oh man, the women of their race had a lot to be thankful for.