The fury on Donor’s glamoured face was anything but pleasure. “I asked you a question, Guildmaster.”
“He’s not really Guildmaster,” I muttered.
MacGoren pretended not to hear and wore that smug look I hate about him. “No, I believe you made a demand, sir. If you wish an official response, there are official channels you may go through.”
“This isn’t Aldred Core. You’re standing in front of the Elven King,” I said. Brokke made a small hissing sound under his breath. I ignored him. If Donor was gunning for me, I doubted he had changed his mind.
MacGoren laughed. The idiot laughed. “Really, Grey, do you expect me to believe the king of the Teutonic fey would be here, and I not know about it?”
Briallen held up a hand. “Wait, Ryan. My sources have been indicating the Elven King is in the city. If Connor is saying this is Donor, I believe him.”
I turned to Brokke. “Tell him.”
Brokke bowed and stepped closer to the window. “I am here as an observer at the request of Her Majesty Eorla Elvendottir.”
I flinched as the dark mass reacted to my anger. Brokke wasn’t going to help.
“Ask Eorla, then. She knows,” I said.
Donor drifted to the window and faced downtown. “The Grand Duchess is on the march here as we speak. I warned you something like this would happen, macGoren. My people are trying to force her to rethink her actions.”
I went to one of the large windows. Plumes of essence radiated near the financial district by the Rowes Wharf Hotel, the afterimage of essence-fire burn. “What are you trying to pull, Donor? Eorla would not attack the Guild.”
He gave me a dismissive look. “My name is Aldred Core, sir. I imagine she is mounting a rescue for her foster son. She has always been volatile, as you well know, Guildmaster.”
I saw the plan now. Donor wasn’t going to let Vize out of his sight, not until he had the faith stone. “Don’t listen to him, macGoren. He’s setting Eorla up.”
MacGoren returned to his chair. “Enough of this. Eorla is the reason you’re not in chains yourself, Grey. She may have gotten the federal authorities to go away, but she has never acted in our interests. I would believe her no more than that dwarf standing behind you. I need to get this issue out of the way. If Eorla dares to attack, we shall meet her with firm resolve.”
The flutter of a sending wafted across the hall. Guild agents entered, their chrome helmets gleaming as they marched down the sides of the hall. Another squad took to the air and hovered over the rest, their faces focused on the door. Vize entered, surrounded by four druids. Everything else aside, macGoren had the sense to use his toughest security. A small group followed them, local Court hangers-on, reporters and Guild staffers, their faces avid with the excitement of seeing an international criminal under arrest.
The dark mass in my head flared with spikes as Vize approached. He grimaced at the same moment. In the battle between us that had cost us our abilities, we both ended up with the darkness inside us. As it had grown inside me, the darkness had spread inside Vize. His entire arm smoldered with it.
The look he shot me said he hadn’t expected to see me there. His usual self-righteousness seemed shaken. I didn’t buy it. The escorts stopped him shy of the floor medallion. He stared at the glamoured Elven King, hate burning in his eyes before he faced macGoren. I didn’t buy that either, not after Brokke’s refusal to out Donor. They had a plan. “I seek protection from the Seelie Court,” Vize said.
“On what basis should we grant you such a thing?” macGoren asked.
“I face death at the hands of the Consortium should I return to my homeland,” he said.
“That is a lie, sir,” said Donor.
MacGoren ignored him. “Many people fear such a fate. Why would the Consortium seek your death?”
“Maybe because he’s a mass murderer?” I said.
MacGoren frowned. I was ruining his drama. “I asked you a question,” he said.
“Treason, sir. I have failed my king’s orders, and he contrives to accuse me of his own crimes,” he said.
“And what orders were these?” macGoren asked.
Vize cocked his head back and tried to restrain a smile. “The destruction of the Seelie Court and the death of High Queen Maeve.”
Gasps, some genuine, rose from the observers. I saw what macGoren was after. Accusing Donor in public for directing assassination plots against Maeve would take attention away from the missteps the Guild had made in Boston. It was a stupid blunder. The media victory for the High Queen would blow over, but Vize wasn’t ever going to provide any real information about his terrorist network, not after all he had done to destroy Maeve. He wanted her dead as much as Donor did.
“What an idiot,” I muttered.
I’ve been trying to tell him, but he’s ignoring my sendings, Briallen sent.
“These are grievous claims, sir,” macGoren said.
Vize bowed his head. “I am ashamed for how I’ve been manipulated by the Elven King. In humility, I ask for the High Queen’s aid.”
MacGoren gestured with the scepter. “You ask for protection?”
Briallen cleared her throat. “My lord, as a director of this Guildhouse and a member of the Seelie Court, may I speak?”
MacGoren glared. As much as he didn’t want to allow it, he wasn’t about to silence Briallen ab Gwyll in front of reporters. “Pray, be brief, Lady Gwyll.”
“This man is not known for his honesty. Before you grant him protection, a formal investigation into his claims would be in order.”
“I hear your words, lady, and consider them. This man is well-known to the Guild and the Seelie Court. He would not come to us were he not in fear of his life, I think,” macGoren said.
“Then arrest him for the crimes of which he is accused, sir. We can assess his words best with deliberation than grant him protection in haste,” she said.
He made a point of shifting in his seat to face away from her. “Thank you, Lady Gwyll. We have noted your suggestion and will let the record show it. Bergin Vize, you must know that this protection does not excuse you from any crimes committed against the Seelie Court. Do you still seek protection under this understanding?”
“I do, sir,” he said.
See, I know what I’m doing, macGoren sent us.
Briallen let me hear her response sending. Leaving the door open to prosecute him doesn’t explain why he’s doing this, Ryan.
MacGoren ignored her as he stood. “I represent Her Majesty, High Queen Maeve at Tara. In her name, I extend you protection. Bow before me in this place and address yourself to the High Queen’s seal.”
Vize complied, going to one knee before the three cups in the floor tiling. The black mass spiked in my head, and I let out an involuntary gasp.
Briallen took my arm. “What is it?” she asked in a low voice.
“The dark mass is shifting in my head. He’s doing something,” I said.
Briallen moved closer to macGoren. “Ryan—please—don’t go near him.”
A murmur rose among the people who heard her. MacGoren paused, anger building in his face as white shots of essence danced in his wings. “Enough, Briallen. You’ve said your piece.”
He lifted the scepter. “Bergin Vize, I grant you protection of Her Majesty, High Queen Maeve at Tara.”
I clutched my head against the pain as Vize rose, a smile on his face. His arm snaked forward as shadowed darkness and wrapped around the scepter. The blue beryl shattered from his touch. Startled, macGoren tried to pull away. With a flick of his arm, the shadow undulated and yanked the scepter from macGoren’s hand. Vize slammed the ebony rod down on Maeve’s seal in the floor. White essence burst from the fractured tiles and threw me against the wall.
37
I stumbled to my knees, gasping as pain sliced through my mind. White light blinded me, pure essence searing the air. The marbled floor pressed hard and cool against my palms as I fought the urge to throw up. The dark mass jumped and shifted in my mind with no discernible purpose, like a trapped animal struggling to escape. I shook my head, trying to clear it, trying to see around me. Several feet away, Briallen crouched, holding macGoren by the shoulders as he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.