Cruel Enchantment (15 page)

She pushed to her feet and exited into his apartment. Making sure the door to his forge was closed and the tapestry was covering it, he went to the front door of his apartment and opened that one, too.
“Free.”

Emmaline stood in the middle of his living room, looking at the door and back at him as though the exit were booby-trapped in some way.

“No tricks, Emmaline. I want you out of here before I do something I’ll regret.”

Her eyes flashed with anger, her jaw locking. “You’re not the only one who would regret it, Aeric.”

“Good. We actually agree on something. Look, I don’t know if you’ve been lying or telling me the truth. All I know is that I have enough doubt in my mind that I can’t hold you here anymore. So, if you’ve been lying, great job. You’re accomplished beyond belief.”

“Aeric—”

“Just go. Get out. Go back to the Summer Queen if that’s what you want to do. Do whatever you want.”

She plopped down on the couch and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He stared at her. “What? Why? Get the fuck
out
, I said.”

She shook her head and crossed her legs, getting comfortable. “You’re forgetting a very important thing. The thing I came here for.”

Of course
. “The key.”

She nodded. “I told you that I came to Piefferburg to seek you out, Aeric. I need that key made. Nothing else matters.”

“I need you out of my sight, Emmaline. That’s what matters to me.”

“Not as much as I need you out of my sight. However, like I said, the mission of the HFF is bigger than us both.” She shrugged. “Hey, look at it as motivation. Make me the key and I’ll be out of your hair. The faster you do it, the faster I’m gone.”

He swore and slammed the door shut.

“OKAY,
wait a minute. You have
Emmaline Siobhan Keara Gallagher
in your apartment right now? The Summer Queen’s assassin during the wars—
the one I learned about in history class
? That one?”

“Yes, that one.”

Looking a little stunned, Aislinn, the Shadow Queen, Unseelie Royal of the Black Tower, curled her feet under her on the couch in her plush white-and-rose living room. She wore a pair of loose jersey pajama pants and a sweatshirt and seemed thankful to be out of the constrictive, elaborate black and silver gown she’d worn all day at court.

The tattoo of the Shadow Amulet was visible under the collar of her sweatshirt. It made Aislinn impervious to death; its wearer was literally immortal—unless the royal suffered a wound grievous enough to kill outright or the sluagh pulled the royal’s soul from his or her body. The former had been the fate of the Shadow King who preceded her. The amulet was an actual physical object, but it only became so at death. When passed to the new recipient, it sank into the body, leaving the tattoo behind. It also imbued the wearer with powerful magicks, making the royal the strongest fae in the court.

Aislinn was also a necromancer, able to call souls from the Netherworld and control them. With that power came the ability to control the sluagh, the army of unforgiven dead. Aislinn was more powerful than any of them, even the Summer Queen. Luckily she also had a strong conscience and high morals to temper all that power.

Aeric was one of a handful of her advisers and close friends. The year before, he’d helped Gabriel Cionaodh Marcus Mac Braire save her from the dark clutches of her biological father, the former Shadow King. He’d wanted not only to kill her, but to obliterate her very soul because Aislinn had been not only the heir to his throne, but also a necromancer—with the ability to cross over the threshold of the Netherworld at will after she died and haunt her murderer for all eternity. Because Aeric, along with Gabriel and several others, had risked his life to save her, that had earned him a special place in her regard—although that hadn’t been the reason he’d done it. He’d done it because it had been the right thing to do.

“Um,” said Aislinn, “I need details.”

He shook Emmaline’s voice out of his head and told Aislinn the whole story from the start. By the time he’d finished telling her everything, she was sprawled on the couch with a half-full mug of tea on the coffee table in front of her and he’d drained two glasses of whiskey to the dregs.

“Wow,” said Aislinn once he’d finished. “I can see why you’re having trouble believing her about the key. Your history with her is a little tangled.”

“Yes.” He leaned forward, cupping the short, chunky crystal glass between his hands. “And getting more tangled by the minute.” Especially if he couldn’t get her out of his apartment before he gave in to his desire to fuck her.

She took a measured sip of her tea and he settled back into his chair to await her opinion—on both the key and the fact that he’d kidnapped, imprisoned, threatened, and tried to kill Emmaline. These were things the fair and levelheaded Aislinn wouldn’t like at all, no matter the circumstances.

“You fear that the key she wants you to create is for some nefarious purpose?” she asked. “You think she may be lying about the HFF and the charmed box?”

“I don’t know if I can trust her or not.”

“Hmm . . . yes. Yet, I think the possibility that she’s telling the truth outweighs the risk if she’s lying. If the key she wants you to make really might lead us to another piece of the
bosca fadbh
, that’s an opportunity we can’t blow off.”

“Yes, I see what you’re saying.”

Aislinn set her mug on the table, folded her hands in her lap, and leveled her gaze at him. “I think you’re just going to have to take a chance on this woman, Aeric.”

That was what he’d been afraid she’d say.

“You’ll have to stay close to her, watch her carefully, but go ahead and make the key.”

He nodded even though he hated this. “All right.”

“I would like to meet her. Can you bring her to me?”

“Of course.”

She licked her lower lip and appeared thoughtful. “I think we should keep her presence here hushed.”

“So do I. She’ll have more enemies than just me. They’ll interfere.”

“The only people I want to tell are my closest advisers.”

That was himself, Gabriel Mac Braire, Ronan Quinn and Bella Mac Lyr, Niall Quinn, the rest of the Wild Hunt, Kieran Aimhrea, and a handful of others.

“Kieran can’t know she’s here.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. I don’t like keeping him out of the loop, but yes. Skip Kieran with this information.”

“Thanks. I don’t want to have to crack his skull. He’s a friend.”

“I know that this woman is clouded in mystery and that you don’t want to believe what she’s told you about the events of the night your fiancée was killed, but I feel you should give this woman the benefit of the doubt. It says a lot to me that you kidnapped, imprisoned, and tried to kill her, yet when you offered her freedom, she turned it down in order to fulfill her HFF mission.”

His lips twisted. “If she really is on an HFF mission.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Well, her story checks out. The day she arrived, the Seelie Court was expecting a new member of the
Faemous
crew that never showed up. So she’s not lying about that, at least.”

Aeric grunted, unwilling to give Emmaline an inch.

Aislinn bit her lower lip, studying him. “Look, Aeric,” she said finally, “I know this is hard for you. I know it’s dredging up emotions you never wanted to deal with—or maybe changing the image of the woman you’ve been maintaining for so long. However, you need to make a decision if you’re going to get through this. You either need to get Emmaline out of your space and your life immediately and forget this ever happened, or you need to accept that Emmaline may be innocent of the dark intent you always believed of her, forgive her, and let the past go.”

The idea of letting the past go made a weight lift from his shoulders. Just let it go. All of it. Let all his doubt about Aileen’s fidelity go. Stop wondering if she’d been an accomplice in Driscoll Manus O’Shaughnessy’s torture of Unseelie. He wanted to let that go because he couldn’t stop imagining Aileen at O’Shaughnessy’s side, helping him do what he’d done, excited by it. Aeric couldn’t help imagining his angelic Aileen and O’Shaughnessy fucking in that stinking room of pain in O’Shaughnessy’s house, both their bodies slicked with the blood of those they’d just tortured.

If he let it go, let
her
go, he’d be letting the good memories go with the bad . . . but maybe that was the way it had to be. Maybe it was time.

If he did let all it go, he’d be giving Emmaline a clean slate. And forgiveness? That was a thing easier said than done.

“TELL
me more about this key.” He turned the model over in his hand. It seemed simple enough to make. Too simple to have anything to do with the
bosca fadbh
. There had to be more to it. The file with the pictures of the box, a sheet with the translations, and a detailed representation of what the final key should look like lay spread on the coffee table in front of him.

He leaned forward, poring over them.

Yeah, it wasn’t going to be simple at all.

Emmaline had taken the seat farthest away from him in his living room. She tended to do that—stay as far away from him as possible at all times. That suited him just fine.

“Like I told you back when you didn’t believe me, the piece is in a charmed box at the bottom of the ocean. It was found mostly buried in sand near the ruins of an ancient village called Atlit Yam. We’re guessing the box is as old as the village, which means it’s been down there for nine thousand years. It’s in amazing shape, of course, because it’s a fae artifact and charmed to be so. The box is small but cannot be lifted or moved by any means that’ve been tried. The markings on the box say that only a charmed iron key will open it. We figure, make the key, send a diver down to open the box, and get the piece.”

“You hope.”

“Of course. The pieces of the
bosca fadbh
were scattered for a reason. Once the relationship between the Phaendir and the fae hit the skids someone decided the
bosca fadbh
needed to be scattered to the four corners of the earth. The pieces weren’t meant to be found by anyone but those with the direst reason to take the risk of handling them. There’s no telling if the box has any magickal booby traps. We’re just hoping this works.”

He studied the mock key, brow furrowed. “Who will open the box?”

“An HFF member, a diver named David Sullivan. He’s already there, waiting for me to deliver the key.”

Aeric looked up at her sharply. “A human?”

“Yes, David is human.”

He shook his head. “This guy, whoever he is, won’t be able to open the box, not even with a charmed key.”

“That guy,
whoever he is
, is my ex-husband. The only man in my entire life I thought was good enough to marry. Trust me, he’s more than capable.”

“He’s
human
,” Aeric snapped. She’d been married? He didn’t like that for some reason. Made something unpleasant prickle at the back of his neck. “I thought you had someone who could read Old Maejian.”

She bristled and sat up straighter. “We do.”

“Well, your crack translator fucked up. The Old Maejian markings on the box say only a fae can open it.”

She slumped back down. “Damn it. There are only three fae in the whole organization and I’m the only diver. David taught me.”

“Then I guess it’s you, cupcake.” He stared at the model, studying it closer. “Also, this key is going to be tricky to make.”

“It is? Why?”

“Come over here and I’ll show you.”

She hesitated, probably for as long as he’d hesitated to ask her. Finally she came over and sat beside him. Immediately she was too close. “Okay, I’m looking.”