Mark Del Franco - Uncertain Allies

Frye took a step forward as Rand’s hand landed on the hilt of his sword. He didn’t draw it. Donor didn’t look at me. “I don’t believe we’ve met, sir.”

“No. We haven’t.” I didn’t give him the courtesy of telling him my name. I had no doubt he knew who I was.

Donor leveled his gaze at me then. Sound faded as our eyes locked. In the void left behind, the pumping of my own blood filled my hearing. A pressure mounted against my skin as Donor’s eyes flickered with white light. I had experienced something like it once before when I encountered a vision of High Queen Maeve. Donor was analyzing me somehow, a mental ability I had never realized the powerful fey had.

The dark mass in my head shifted, a dense yearning behind my eyes that welcomed the attention. The pressure eased as Donor’s eyes widened in surprise. I sensed the field of the spell he was using, the dark mass pushing outward with a pulse of pain. I wanted to reach out and grab Donor’s essence, wanted to feel the strength of it and pull it into myself. It was a feeling of yearning and desire that burned in my chest and groin. I wanted his essence to sate the desire. I didn’t like the feeling, didn’t like that it reminded me of what I had done during the riots. I had spent the last few months suppressing the yawning want that could only be satisfied by more essence.

My left arm burned with cold. I had a tattoo of tree branches that wound around my forearm, formed out of spelled silver. It reacted to the Elven King’s probe, igniting with essence. The tattoo channeled the essence inward, enhancing my body essence. The dark mass scuttled on spikes of pain, dancing around both Donor’s spell and the silvered essence from the tattoo. An avenue opened in my mind, a path between the silver and the black, a calm space where there was no burning cold or heat. I focused on it and tapped my body essence, shoving back at Donor’s touch.

He flinched, surprise flowing off him, which faded even as I noticed it. Frye’s staff glowed with an evergreen light. Donor waved him back, staring at me with curiosity. “You are another problem, Mr. Grey. An intriguing one.”

I shrugged. “Sounds like you have a lot of problems.”

Eorla dropped her voice. “Does it ever occur to you, Donor, that you might be the cause of your problems?”

Donor continued looking at me for a few seconds before turning to her. “And does it ever occur to you, dear cousin, that your own wants and desires are meaningless? Have you learned nothing by your father’s failure? The crown is mine, Eorla. You will never have it.”

Eorla surprised the hell out of me by laughing. “I don’t want your crown, Donor. I don’t need your crown. Our fathers died at each other’s hands for a kingdom that does not even exist anymore. Convergence took it all away. The crown is meaningless, Donor. You haven’t realized that yet. Neither has Maeve.”

His face became unreadable. He stared at Eorla, but whether they conversed by sendings, I couldn’t tell. “I came here to offer forgiveness, Eorla. I understand your actions occurred under stressful conditions. Our people are stronger when we are united. You weaken both of us against a common enemy with this adventure.”

“Yet I strengthen many, many more, cousin,” she said.

Donor compressed his lips. I’d bet he didn’t encounter resistance to his wishes all that often, especially to his face. I doubted there were many besides Eorla who could do it either. “Think on this, cousin. Think on this with care. My hand in friendship is a much wiser choice than the alternative. I will give you a brief time to reconsider your path.”

He stood and reactivated the Aldred Core glamour. For now, I supposed, it suited his purpose for the outside world not to know that the Elven King was in the city. Frye fell in step behind him. Eorla gestured for Rand to follow them out the door.

Eorla exhaled. “That was not as difficult as I anticipated.”

I shook my head with amusement. “I can’t imagine what besides threats from the Elven King would be difficult for you.”

She waved her hand. “Oh, he had to do that to save face with his weaker supporters in the Consortium. He may be a strong king, but he is only as strong as the confidence of his followers. I’m more interested in the real reason he’s here. I felt what happened between you.”

I closed my eyes. “It’s bad enough I have Maeve watching my every move. The last thing I need is the Elven King doing it, too.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t let him fool you, Connor. He’s afraid of her as much as she is of him. That’s what the Fey Summit was all about—putting on a conciliatory face to cover their fears. He wants to know if her interest in you will help or hurt him.”

“You know I’m not a fan of either of them,” I said.

She rose and walked to the window. “And that’s what he fears about both of us. Come here. I want you to see something.”

She handed me a pair of binoculars from the windowsill and pointed across the harbor. The main part of Logan Airport was out of view, but the ends of the runways near the water were visible. A large plane with the Teutonic Consortium symbol painted on the rudder sat on the tarmac off to the side, far from the terminals. I lowered the binoculars. “That’s a troop transport.”

Eorla hummed in agreement. “Odd choice of travel for an ambassador to the crown, don’t you think?”

“What are you going to do?”

She crossed her arms and stared out the window. “Watch for now. See who moves where. He’s not likely to seek the Guild as allies, but he will do his best to remove me as a threat. The humans are as leery about that plane as I am. There’s another plane filled with U.S. Marines at the other end of the field. Donor is here for a reason. Why he is here is more important than what is in that plane at the moment.”

“Until the fighting starts again,” I said.

She shot me a look. “You know I will do everything I can to prevent that.”

“Except submit to him,” I said.

She tilted her head toward me with a slight smile, curious rather than angry. “Is that a criticism?”

I shook my head. “Not at all. Standing up to monarchial power has become a hobby of mine lately. Be careful, Eorla. You can’t predict everything.”

We stared at the view, lost in our own thoughts.

Briallen sent word after I left Rowes Wharf that she was free for the evening. Between her schedule and Murdock’s, setting up a time to run tests on his body signature had taken a few days. Even though I had suggested the idea, I was apprehensive that Murdock wouldn’t take the results seriously. I had no doubt he was part druid—his mother was. What I didn’t know was whether his heritage would be a good thing or a bad one. I worried because untrained abilities had a knack for going wrong at the wrong time. Murdock liked to take things as they came, but abilities were not something to ignore.

To distract myself for the remainder of the afternoon, I walked to Avalon Memorial to take Meryl for one of our strolls. I knew her condition wouldn’t be any different. Someone would have called me. Being with her calmed me, though, and helped settle my mind about the evening to come.

I guided Meryl up the wide path on Boston Common that ran along Beacon Street. The tall trees that lined the way had begun to bud but remained bare. Meryl moved in a stupor, her gaze sightless. She responded to pressure on her arm, walking when prompted, stopping when held. Sometimes it felt like a game, like she was pretending to be silent and uncommunicative. It wasn’t a game, though. She didn’t respond to my voice or anything auditory. A motorcycle roaring past, children laughing, dogs barking brought no reaction. I watched for a sign in her eyes or a flinch from a startling noise, but saw nothing.