The barb slid off, unable to penetrate Friar’s zealotry. “Any man would change, faced with such purity. But you wouldn’t know about that, would you? Neither her purity, not what it is to be a true man.” Abruptly the naked longing was gone, hidden behind the man’s usual sophisticated gloss. “You’re wasting your time with those bars, you know.”
“Oh? You could just give me the key.”
Friar chuckled. “There is no key. The bars are set with magic, not cement. And it takes magic to open the cell. You are well and truly trapped.”
The words flicked Rule in the place where panic waited. He gave himself the space of a breath to be sure it didn’t show in his voice. “But alive. Were you disappointed when you learned you weren’t allowed to kill me?”
“At first. I admit it. At first I didn’t care for that at all. She deserves full tribute. But I’m only human, sadly shortsighted compared to her. You will keep your life.” He smiled maliciously. “But you will lose everything else. Already you’ve lost your freedom. And your father.”
Rule lifted one brow. “Sure about that, are you?”
“My men went hunting out near Hole-in-the-Wall. If he survived his fight—you call it a Challenge, I believe—if that didn’t kill him, a bullet in the brain will have done the job by now. Tell me, is Lily waiting for you at your clanhome?”
“I’m sure she told me her plans. Pity, but I can’t remember at the moment.”
“I hope she’s gone to see her parents or one of her sisters. I doubt it, but I would prefer that she live awhile longer. I was quite disappointed she wasn’t with you, but the poor thing is injured, isn’t she?”
Anger flowed into Rule—cold anger, settling like ice in his veins. He didn’t speak.
Friar took a step closer. His eyes gleamed with malice and pleasure. “While you’re lying in some other cell in some other realm—no doubt in pain, for you won’t bend easily, will you? Though you won’t be able to hold on to your pride too long. Not with what Rethna can do. He’s got plenty of gado, and he’s learning how to tailor it to his needs. He doesn’t want you unable to Change, you see. He wants you to Change on his command. And fight at his command— dance, kill, fuck—he’ll control you utterly.” Friar paused, savoring the moment. “What, you’re silent? No witticisms?”
“You were speaking of Lily,” he said softly.
“So I was.” Friar smiled. “Such a pretty thing. If she isn’t at your clanhome, I’ll be bringing her here. Have you heard of a drug called Do Me? I have a nice supply. I’ll fuck her right there in that cell. And over on the furs the elves enjoy sleeping on. And anywhere else I want, and she won’t object. She’ll be quite desperately eager, in fact.”
The icy anger built to a flood, washing away the last traces of claustrophobic panic, bringing clarity. He was sliding into certa. A battle state. What Friar said was data, no more and no less. “And if she’s at Clanhome?”
“Ah, well, then, I won’t have the pleasure of getting to know her as intimately as I’d like.” Friar pulled something from the pocket of his loose, robelike dress. “This is a radio transmitter. It won’t transmit well from down here, of course. But after my consecration, I’ll return to my house to celebrate. I’ll push this little button.” He showed it to Rule. “And boom! No more Clanhome. No more Nokolai.”
Toby. Toby was at Clanhome. That one thought loomed so large there was room for no other thought at all. Rule stared at his enemy in silence.
Friar dropped his gaze. It was a quick, involuntary reaction, and he caught himself and looked at Rule again. “I’ll stop by to see you again after the ceremony. You may find me … powerfully changed.” He chuckled at his cleverness and walked away.
As soon as the man was well out of earshot, Rule turned to Benedict to make sure he’d noticed that Friar, in his eagerness to cause maximum suffering, had said too much. First, he didn’t know where Lily was. That was excellent news. Second, if the bars couldn’t be bent or loosened and the lock required magic to open, that left one potential weak spot in their cage. They could concentrate on that.
He subvocalized. “The hinges.”
WHAT kind of a paranoid idiot puts wards at both ends of his secret tunnel?
Lily leaned against the wall of the tunnel, frustrated beyond belief. Cullen had snaked ahead on his belly to examine the ward he’d seen … right at the well-lit exit from the tunnel.
Beyond that, she saw a rocky cavern. And an elf.
The elf had long, flowing hair the color of bluebells. He—or maybe she—wore loose trousers in buttercup yellow with a white sleeveless top. The sword he carried was pretty, too. The four feet of blade she saw was made of some shiny metal—did elves use steel?—and was held steady at his side. Lily couldn’t see his face because his back was to her. He was watching something out of her line of sight.
Rule’s cell, according to Arjenie, who was pressed to the wall beside her. According to the mate bond, too. Lily could feel him there.
Plan A was for Cullen to take down the ward. They’d sneak in, with Cullen and Lily using cover from a couple of boulders near the tunnel. Arjenie would use her Gift to approach the guard nearest the tunnel and knock him out, if she could. Lily would shoot—or shoot at—the blue-haired elf while Cullen raced to the cell, which had to be unlocked magically.
If Cullen couldn’t take down the ward, they’d use Plan B—which looked a lot like Plan A, only without the sneaking in. Arjenie would have to go first. As soon as she knocked out the nearest guard, Cullen and Lily would rush in.
Lily suspected that either way, their plan would fall apart pretty fast. But you go with what you’ve got.
Lily and Arjenie were in deep shadow. Cullen was all too visible up at the tunnel’s mouth. The light in the cavern flashed brighter for a second, turning orange. It had been doing that for a while, changing colors, as if someone was setting off silent fireworks.
There were seven elves in there and one human—Robert Friar. The good news was that none of them seemed to have projectile weapons, according to Arjenie—unless they were really good at throwing knives. More likely they were good at throwing spells. That wouldn’t affect Lily, but Cullen and Arjenie would be vulnerable.
At the moment, Rethna and four of the elves were busy with a major ritual that was supposed to give Friar big magical mojo. That’s what the light show was about. One of the remaining two was the blue-haired guard Lily could see. The second was on guard, too—standing between the mouth of this tunnel and one about twenty feet away.
Lily’s arm ached. Her head ached. Arjenie had been eager to tell her everything, both in whispers and directly. She’d gotten a little “loud” in places.
The elf lord who held Rule and Benedict and the others was one of the ones Arjenie’s father had warned her about. One who dealt in slaves. That’s what he planned for his captives. That’s what he’d be only too happy to do with Arjenie, if he got his hands on her.
Lily wanted to kill him.
That desire was stark and clear in her mind. It wasn’t the muddy wish that some bastard would drop dead, or even the urge to violence, the impulse to strike back, to hurt. She wanted to kill Rethna.
Part of her found this eminently logical. She’d expected to be dealing with Friar and his militia goons. Humans, in other words, who used human weapons and were susceptible to the same, and to human law. This Rethna was near the top of the elf food chain, power-wise. Even away from his territory—sidhe lords drew on their land, their territory, for power—Cullen couldn’t handle him. He’d said so. Not without gambling on mage fire.