I started to ask Aiden—or Zee—just who we were dealing with, but Adam spoke first.
“We are dangerous, too,” my husband told Aiden, not unkindly. “They need to remember that.” He looked at Zee. “How long do you think she’ll wait before calling back?”
Zee pursed his lips. “It depends upon how much she wants—”
The phone buzzed, and Adam glanced at the screen. “Apparently quite a lot,” he said. He hit the green button on the screen and set it back down on the table.
“You have something I want,” she said.
I frowned at Adam, and he nodded. He’d caught her change from the “we” of the note to “I.”
“You’ve said that before,” Adam said. “I probably have several things you want, pick one.”
“The boy,” she said.
“No dice.” Adam hit the red button, and we all waited. Aiden stared at the floor and wrapped his arms around himself.
“Adam offered you indefinite protection,” Tad told Aiden. “You probably missed it in the middle of your panic attack. But he won’t allow you to be given to the fae against your will. Not ever. Nicely played.”
Aiden opened his mouth.
The phone rang again.
Adam touched the green button, and said, “You bore me.”
“I need the boy,” she said.
“And you offer?”
“The note told you we are willing to allow you your territory.”
His body relaxing like a cat’s, Adam smiled, his teeth white and even. “So the note said.” His voice was very soft. “No one allows me anything.” He paused and continued in a more normal tone. “That doesn’t mean we can’t negotiate. What are you, yourself, willing to offer me, and why are you answering this phone instead of whoever wrote those notes?”
The Fideal was male—and I would have recognized his voice. The woman might have been working with him, or some group of fae—but she was trying to work out a deal alone. Adam had just let her know that he understood that.
She responded with silence. Hard to tell if she was panicking or just thinking.
“Fae can lie,” Adam told her conversationally. “But I understand that they are punished for it. Removed from all that is and was and could be. A curse of rare power levied against your race by those who went before.”
I raised my eyebrows. I didn’t know that. Zee focused intently on Adam. I assumed that Zee knew that fae could lie but wanted to know where Adam had gotten his information.
“You will regret—” she spat, but Adam had already disconnected his phone.
“Well, that one wants you, Aiden,” Adam said. “But as entertaining as that phone call was, we didn’t learn what the fae as a whole want. Who was she, Zee?”
“The Widow Queen,” he said. “Neuth. She has other names. The Black Queen.”
“A fairy queen?” I asked. I’d met one of them.
But Zee shook his head. “No. She’s sidhe fae—a Gray Lord. She likes to play with the humans, though, causing misery—which she can feed upon. She made her way into more than one folktale. I’d heard that she was at the one in Nevada. I did not see her while I was at our local reservation.”
Aiden shook his head. “No. She is here. She—” He took a deep breath. “No. She was one of the ones who came here when I escaped Underhill and was recaptured by the fae.”
“Tell me about her,” said Adam.
Zee frowned.
It was Tad who said, “In the far past, the Widow Queen was known for seducing men, men powerful in the human world, but also good and beloved men. Gradually, she would separate them from everything they loved until they were obsessed with her. She could use magic to accomplish this—but preferred not. It was better when they followed her of their own will. Then she would destroy the man, the people he once loved—physically, mentally, in all ways at her disposal—then move on to the lands he ruled. The stories of Snow White and Cinderella probably were first conceived as a result of incidents involving her. When Underhill closed, she lost a great deal of that kind of magic, and more to the point, she lost her ability to feed off human misery. That wasn’t her greatest power—she is a Gray Lord—but she enjoyed it the most.”
“So why would she want Aiden?” I asked. Then answered myself, “Beloved of Underhill, right? Possessed of magic she bestowed upon him. And the Widow Queen wants her abilities back.”
Tad shrugged. Zee grunted. Good enough supposition, I read from the vague noises.
“At least she doesn’t prey upon children,” Adam murmured with a sigh. “So now we know that one fae wants Aiden. We need a plan for tonight. Will the Gray Lords meeting with Thomas’s fae be of sufficient status to bargain?”
He looked at Zee, who sighed. “Probably. The Flanagan was a Power, and his daughter showed signs of being the same.” He tapped on the table. “You should bargain with them that they respect the boundaries of your territory—and be very clear what your territory is. Too big, and they will not believe you can hold it; too small, and you tell them that you are weak.”
“What do we have to bargain with?” Adam asked. “I won’t turn the boy over to them.” He looked at Tad. “Or you or your father. Bran has made it clear that we are on our own.”
“There is the walking stick,” I said.
“That’s a nonstarter,” said Adam. “It won’t stay with them in the first place. And in the second place . . .”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s changed, hasn’t it? It’s not just an artifact anymore. It has a mind of its own—which makes it . . . not something I’m willing to bargain with if I can help it.”
8
Thomas had been suspiciously amiable about my request to include us in his fae lady’s meeting.
“I am,” he’d said when I’d called him, “very happy to have more security for Margaret.”
I cleared my throat. “You might not be so happy when I explain exactly why we’d like to come along.” He’d listened as I expanded on the tale of the trouble I’d caused with my little speech on the bridge.
“So,” he said when I’d finished. “You wish to come in the hopes of taking the Gray Lords by surprise—and are fairly sure that those fae you will corner are people who know the situation and have the power to make bargains.”
“Yes,” I said.
There was a little pause. “You don’t think that the Gray Lords are responsible for the threatening message sent to Hauptman’s ex-wife. Worse, you don’t think that the person, this Widow Queen, you talked to on the phone was the person responsible for the message, either.”
“She may have been one of them,” I said, “but there are others—who may or may not have a different agenda than she does. Or they want our refugee, too, but not for the same purpose. You see our problem.”
“You don’t know who wants what—and where they sit in the halls of power.” Margaret Flanagan had taken the phone. “Too many possibilities and not enough information.”
“Exactly,” I told her. “We don’t want war with the fae—and I don’t think they want war with us, either. But we won’t give them the boy, who has been a victim of the fae for a very long time. We won’t give them”—I paused, because in this instance I probably couldn’t speak for the pack—“I won’t give them Zee or his son. Ideally, the Gray Lords will decide we are too much trouble or not important enough to screw with, and they will take over and police their own. Otherwise, we’ll try to bargain with them to get them to respect our territorial boundaries.”
“Zee?” Margaret asked. “You said his name to Thomas, too, as if he were someone we should know?”
“Siebold Adelbertsmiter,” I said. “He’s had a lot of names over the years. You might know him better as the Dark Smith of Drontheim.”