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A council meeting was no mundane event at Glendall, Danu observed. Once Magnus had her clothed in a winter gown of sumptuous embroidered silk and draped in a luxurious cloak of mottled boar hide, he’d ordered Daly to summon a lady’s servant to brush and style her hair. While they waited for a servant to come, Magnus submitted to Daly’s hurried grooming and donned a crimson sash which fastened at his throat with a broach fashioned from gold and rubies. The fine piece depicted a roaring lion with a book beneath one paw and a full moon resting in the palm of the other.
When no servant lad appeared, Daly took on the task of seeing to her hair. He sat her on a stool before a bronze mirror, brushed out the tangles, and twisted sections into piles that formed a delicate crown. The whole time, he muttered about the servant lads becoming spoiled.
Finished with her, Daly draped a cloak around Magnus’s shoulders. The inky black set off the crimson in his war kilt, making him look both commanding and dangerous.
“Are you ready, my lady?” her king purred. The heat in his eyes proved he hadn’t forgotten his promise about this evening. If only he were asking whether she were ready for that. She would launch herself into his arms and command him to take her to his bed that very moment. But he was only referring to the council meeting they were now late for.
She shivered at the promise in his gaze, but her voice was steady when she said, “I am.”
“Come, then.” He crooked his arm in an invitation she accepted. They strode together to a nearby room with a large fireplace and a grouping of comfortable looking chairs and couches at the far end. Closer to the entry, a rectangular table dominated the space. This part of the castle had not existed in Lachlan’s time, but she recognized the chamber as an extension of Magnus’s bedchamber. This would be where he took his meals, relaxed, and, as was happening now, where he held private meetings.
As Magnus led her into the chamber, the five men she counted around the table stood and saluted their king with fists over their hearts. Three of them sat along one side, and each man wore different styles of clothing.
The largest had broad shoulders and a gray beard. His weathered face had seen many years, and his dark eyes had seen many battles. A war kilt made a slash across his barrel chest. The wool was fastened over his heart with a broach similar to Magnus’s but depicting a lion standing as if locked in battle with a silver crescent moon. While she had not recognized Magnus’s symbol, this one she remembered from the time of Lachlan. The warrior was a Knight of the Crescent moon, one of the king’s personal guard. It pleased her to see this tradition had stood the test of time.
Beside the knight stood a slim man in what she assumed were civilian clothes. A silken jacket covered a tunic with a high, lacy collar. The man’s gray-streaked hair was tied back, emphasizing his high cheekbones and pointed ears. His beard was darker than his hair and trimmed into a tidy vee.
Next was a willowy man in brown robes. He bore no facial hair, and the hair atop his head was shorn close to the scalp in the style of priests. He wore spectacles that failed to sit perfectly straight on his nose. In his hands, he held a rumpled head covering, removed, no doubt, out of respect when the king had entered.
On the table’s other side were two men and one woman. The first man was an older warrior with gray hair. He lacked the symbol that would have marked him as a knight. He must be the head of Magnus’s army.
The second man possessed such significant height and breadth that the chair he had risen from appeared like child’s furniture in his shadow. His hair tumbled over his shoulders in dark curls, and he wore the kilt and broach of the Knights of the Crescent Moon. His dark brown eyes followed her as Magnus drew to a stop at the head of the table. She had seen this knight before. He was one of the riders who had escorted her and Magnus to Glendall.
Between the two men sat a petite woman whose gaze had sought Danu’s since the moment she’d entered the room. She wore a gown much like the one Magnus had dressed her in and had her chestnut waves pinned up into pretty loops atop her head. Scars like claw marks slashed across her cheek.
Instantly, Danu knew the woman was not wolfkind. Her smaller bone structure and dainty mouth were the fabled features of humans. Danu had never spent time with humans, but she’d heard many tales, some flattering to the mortal race, most not. This was Anya. Seona’s sister.
Lines of worry creased Anya’s forehead. Her eyes, similar in color to those of the warrior beside her, were liquid with concern. Her pinched mouth appeared to be reining in a hundred questions. The warrior took her hand and whispered something in her shell-shaped ear. Whatever he said seemed to relieve some of her anxiety.
Danu had looked forward to meeting Anya, the human who had slain King Bantus, but now that she stood in the same room as the small warrioress, she felt something she had rarely before experienced. Nervousness. Her stomach clenched and swooned as if she were soaring above the landscape and had taken a sudden dive.
She was glad for the distraction when Magnus drew an empty chair from the side of the table and placed it next to his at the head. “You will sit by my side,” he said, easing her down.
“Thank you, Your Highness.” She may have been imprisoned for the last two millennia, but she remembered her courtly manners.
The men around the table looked on, expressions ranging from surprise to disbelief.
Anya’s gaze sharpened. A shrewd expression eclipsed her worry, and Danu received the impression that Anya did not miss much. Danu would have to be careful around her. With Hyrk on the loose, it was imperative the demigod remain ignorant of her whereabouts. If Anya guessed something was amiss, she could ruin everything, including Danu’s plan to discover what, exactly, had happened to Seona.
“At ease,” Magnus said in his clear, commanding voice.
Those around the table resumed their seats.
Magnus did not sit. Rather, he remained standing behind his chair, which was elaborately carved where the others were plain. “Ladies and gentlemen, Marann is under attack.”
He’d already had the attention of everyone around the table, but this statement honed that attention to a sword’s point. Her chest puffed with pride that her king commanded a room with such confidence.
“Not from Larnian invaders. Not from outlaws or bandits. Not from within, due to political infighting.” At this, he cut a glance to the smartly-dressed man, who arched an eyebrow in response. “Our new enemy is like nothing we have faced before.” Giving those in attendance a chance to soak in this dire news, he arranged himself in his chair, his posture impeccable.
“As most of you know by now, Lady Seona absconded from Glendall this morning—by all accounts—of her free will.” He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, as if he expected this declaration to upset her.
Danu joined the others in giving Magnus her rapt attention, so eager was she to learn what had led to Seona’s fall from a cliff.
All eyes were on her as Magnus continued, except for Anya’s. The human woman fixed her gaze on Magnus’s hand, where it remained on her shoulder.
“Unfortunately, she is unable to give testimony as to the events leading up to her flight, having suffered memory loss after a head injury. What we do know is—”
Anya gasped, interrupting Magnus. Leaning forward as if she would crawl across the table to get to him, she cried, “You told me she was unharmed! You lied! Seona, how do ye fare? Tell me all that has happened.”
Danu tensed, glad for the large body of the dark-haired knight between her and Anya. She had no answers. She honestly didn’t know how Seona fared. For all she knew, the human could have passed through the veil and be lost to the afterlife. As for the rest, Danu hadn’t been in this body during the events Magnus described. She was as curious for the answers as Anya.
“Lady Seona has seen Giles,” Magnus said. His glare carried a world of warning, but Anya did not appear cowed. “She has been declared healthy and hale with the exception of her memory. Now, I will not be interrupted again, Lady Anya. Your presence at this meeting is not required. Understand?”
Anya returned the king’s glare but nodded. The knight by her side closed his eyes and shook his head.
“As I was saying, we know the prisoner Bilkes was an accomplice.”
“Bloody degenerate mutt,” Anya muttered. With a start, she seemed to remember herself. “My apologies, Your Majesty.” Somehow, she managed to look sheepish and petulant at the same time.
Magnus’s mouth quirked. He gave no other indication he had been interrupted. “How and when Seona made contact with Bilkes we must discover. I will not abide vulnerabilities in the security of our ladies or in the keeping of our prisoners. Maedoc—” He addressed the elder of the two knights. “This is your top priority.”
The knight nodded. “Yes, Sire.”
“Assaph.” Magnus directed his gaze down the table to the priest, who jumped at hearing his name. “Your testimony is that Seona and Bilkes trespassed into your apartment before dawn, stole a key, and removed an item from the strong room. Correct?”
Assaph drew himself to his feet, hands twisting his head covering. “Y-yes, Your Majesty.” Behind his spectacles, his eyes gleamed with an earnest desire to be helpful. Danu found herself liking him a great deal. Pinning his shoulders back, he seemed to steel himself. “The—ah—item you mention was the gemstone Lord Ari used to cross the veil to the human realm.”
At the mention of a gemstone, Danu leaned forward in her seat, but Assaph was not speaking of her moonstone. Rather, he referred to Hyrk’s relic. It seemed like years ago that Duff had told her about it, when in reality, scarcely half a day had passed.
A cloud passed over Magnus’s face as he said, “Ari betrayed the crown. He lost his lordly title along with his life.”
“S—Sorry, Your Majesty,” Assaph said, but Magnus waved away the apology and spoke over him.
“The gemstone was also used to hasten the rescue of the human women found in Castle Blackstone.” He motioned to Assaph. “Thanks to you.” The priest’s cheeks colored. “Had you not secured Danu’s blessing of the stone, we would never have risked using it to create a passage between Blackstone and Glendall.”
Blessed? How interesting! She had been in no position to grant her people blessings. Here was more evidence suggesting some other power was at work in her realm. She must learn more.
“Therefore,” continued Magnus. “We know that the gemstone can be used for good or ill.” He looked to Assaph for confirmation.
The priest nodded. “It seems so, Your Majesty.”
“The question is: why did Bilkes and Seona’s seek it out?”
“Seona intended to use it to return to our home,” Anya said. “To Scotia, in the human realm.” Her intelligent eyes turned to Danu, her expression guarded.
“That explains Seona’s motivation, yes,” Magnus said, rising from his chair. He began pacing from the head of the table to the fireplace and back. “But what would a condemned prisoner want with a magical gemstone? He had already escaped from Glendall’s dungeon. Did he hope to go with Seona to her human realm, where we know there is a woman for every man?”
Several heads nodded. This motivation was plausible, probable, even, considering the state of the wolfkind population.
“This seemed likely to me as well,” Magnus said. “Until I spoke with Bilkes this morning at Lachlan’s Promontory.”
He let silence reign for several heartbeats. At last, he braced his palms on the table. His arm was so near, Danu could smell his fresh scent of forest and leather. She closed her eyes to breathe it in, but only for a moment. She must not let herself become distracted. Magnus was about to relate the events leading up to Seona’s fall. If she listened carefully, she might determine what had happened to the human.
“The testimony I am about to give does not leave this room.” Magnus met the eyes of each man and woman at the table, including her.
She couldn’t help wetting her lips in anticipation.
Magnus’s gaze dropped to her mouth. With a muffled growl, he shook his head and returned his attention to the room at large. He expelled a breath that seemed to weigh a thousand stone and said, “Bilkes is dead. I killed him.” Judging by the grim line his mouth made, he took no pleasure in the fact.
A feather could have been heard alighting on the tabletop, so quiet was the solar.
“But it was not Bilkes,” Magnus said, piquing her curiosity. “At least, not entirely.” He glanced at Assaph before continuing. “It is my belief that the prisoner was possessed. Tell me. Have you heard of such a thing, Assaph?”
Assaph’s eyes widened. Slowly, he nodded. “I have heard of possession, Your Majesty. But I have never seen it with my own eyes.”
“Neither had I, until today.” Magnus resumed his pacing. “I believe the possessing entity was none other than the god Hyrk. The same god who held my cousin in his thrall and whose power was used to bring the human women here from their realm. Assaph,” he said, coming to a stop. “We will conference today at the temple. I shall give you my detailed testimony, as will my knights Cadeyrn and Riggs, who witnessed everything. If you find our reports reliable and you feel led by Danu, you will verify the event and record it in the Archives. For now, suffice it to say I am certain I spoke with this Hyrk, and not the prisoner Bilkes. I believe it was not Bilkes who sought the gemstone, but Hyrk.”
That snake! Every muscle in Danu’s body tensed. To think Hyrk had possessed one of her wolfkind! He would pay. Oh, she would enjoy making him pay.
Assaph sank into his chair, his face ashen. “Oh, King, to think you came so close to wickedness.” He was speaking quietly to himself, shaking his head.
Each face around the table reflected the seriousness of what Magnus had just reported. It pleased Danu to see that these mortals understood how rare it was for them to play a role in a battle between deities. Thanks to Hyrk’s brazen interference, history was being made in the wolfkind realm. History was being written here at this very table. The outcome of the battle begun two thousand years ago would determine whether her people lived or died.
She would not fail them. She would not let Hyrk win.
Hatred created a second heartbeat in her chest. Her enemy had meddled in the affairs of her people long enough. It was time to put him in his place.
“Assaph.” Magnus’s tone was gentle. “I am quite hale. No harm done. But I need to learn everything I can about Hyrk.”
Assaph wrung his hands. “But—but, Your Majesty, my research has uncovered no record of such a deity.” He spoke as if this was not the first time Magnus had desired to learn about her enemy.
“I know,” Magnus said, soothingly. “Fear not. I know that you have found nothing in the Archives about a god by that name, but perhaps—”
Danu huffed a bitter laugh at hearing Hyrk called a god. “That is because he is not a deity at all,” she scoffed. “But a mere demigod seeking to steal my realm.”
The entire chamber seemed to suck in a breath.
Danu’s stomach dropped. She might be a goddess, but that did not make her infallible. She had forgotten her goal to remain inconspicuous. Seona would not be an authority on deities and demigods. She had said too much.
Magnus stilled. He studied her in silence for moments that stretched into an eternity. At last, he spread his arms and smiled, addressing the room as if she had not spoken. “This Hyrk—in Bilkes’s body—had possession of the gemstone. But when he threw—” He swallowed and started again. “I looked on as Seona snatched it from him. Ultimately, it was lost to the canyon.”
Danu relaxed as her slip faded into the past. She sat up straighter, listening as Magnus handed her the answer she sought. Seona had touched Hyrk’s relic, which had been blessed in her name. That could explain how Danu had come to be in Seona’s body. And it likely meant Seona was locked in Hyrk’s dungeon in her place.
Worry made her hands clench into fists. No mortal could survive the cold power of those bars. But wait. Seona would no longer be mortal. She would be...a goddess.
“When I killed Bilkes, Hyrk left his body,” Magnus was saying.
Danu forced herself to pay attention. She must repair this swapping of bodies, and to do so, she must learn all she could. She gathered Hyrk had not succeeded in reclaiming his relic. This was good news. But he would not stop trying. He must not be allowed to get his hands on it a second time. With his power restored and hers unavailable to her, her people would be sitting quail. So would she.
“That means he could be anywhere.” Magnus said. Again, he locked gazes with each person in the solar. “Inside of anyone,” he said as his eyes met hers.
She stirred, uncomfortable with his attention, though she couldn’t place the reason.
Magnus stood tall, returning his attention to the whole table. “He will no doubt continue to seek out the gemstone. If he succeeds, there is no telling how much power he will wield or what he will do with it. What is clear—” He traded a significant look with the knight he had addressed as Riggs. “Is that he hates Danu and intends to destroy her creation.” He pounded a fist on the tabletop. “We must prevent this at all costs.”
Murmurs of agreement sounded around the table. The mood in the solar shifted. Action was imminent. Danu bristled with eagerness to act, even as a strange heaviness began to pull at her eyelids.
“Assaph, we will conference in the temple in one hour,” Magnus decreed. “I must learn all I can about Hyrk.” At Assaph’s panicked look, he added—“I know you found nothing in the Archives, but I would like you to search your library of poems for any mention of this demigod.”
Assaph’s brows rose in surprise, but he nodded. “Yes, Sire.”
“Riggs.” Magnus addressed the younger of the two knights, the one with his arm around Anya. “You will gather as many men as you need and search for the gemstone in the canyon. You saw where she—” He cleared his throat. “Where it fell. Bring several pups with you. They have more recent practice with hide-and-seek.” He smiled warmly, the expression dimpling his bearded cheek, before sobering. “Look as long as you have to. Tonight’s moon shall be nearly full. It will light your way. The gemstone shall be returned to Assaph’s care by the rising of the sun. I have spoken.”
“My king has spoken, and it shall be done,” Riggs said with a fist over his heart.
Danu watched the room clear. She wished to know whether her assumption was correct, that Seona was in her place in Hyrk’s dungeon. She needed to speak with Duff. He’d been there when she had been thrust into Seona’s body. He would know if Seona had been thrust into hers. But how would she summon him? She had no power in this mortal body.
Huffing with annoyance, she cursed her lack of power. Never before had she felt helpless. Not even as a child, because she could always ask for whatever she desired, and her father would grant it. Here, there was no one she could ask for help regarding what had happened to her and Seona. Adding to her dismay, her eyelids continued to feel heavy. Her stomach groaned painfully—and audibly, judging by the glances of those closest to her.
“Lady Seona,” Magnus said quietly. “Is all well?”
She forced her features to calm. “Well enough,” she answered vaguely. She did not wish to tell lies. Small deficits in morality paved the way for larger ones, and soon, a good heart could be blackened with selfishness. She would guard her identity and perform her investigations with as little deception as possible. Absently, she rubbed her stomach and tried to blink away the heavy feeling in her eyelids.
“She needs a meal,” Anya said, locking eyes with Danu. “And rest. ’Tis plain she is hungry and weary. I’ll see to her.”
Danu stiffened, not only because having Anya “see to her” was the last thing she wanted, but because she had never before experienced hunger or tiredness. As a goddess, she ate food not because she required it but because she desired it. She spent time in bed for carnal reasons, but never to close her eyes and sleep the way mortals did.
Magnus said, “I will see to her. You may spend time with your sister once she is well fed and well rested.”
Danu relaxed. She would not have to face the fierce little human yet.
Magnus dismissed the others and escorted her to the room he referred to as the Orange Blossom chamber. Once Daly had brought a heaping tray of culinary delights, Magnus left her with six guards, two outside her chamber and four inside. He promised to return after he had spoken with his priest.
Only after she had eaten and lain down upon the soft bed did it occur to her that Magnus’s manner with her had been much more reserved than before the meeting. Was it because he had so many concerns demanding his attention, or was it something else?
Before she could develop theories or figure a way to contact Duff, her eyes closed, and she was lost to mortal slumber.
