“Why are you Intercessoria, rather than heading up your clan?”
“Because my magic isn’t strong enough to lead my clan, or even be Clan Second.” Tempeste’s smile was rueful. “Though I was firstborn, my magic is only fifth of my ten brothers. Besides, I enjoy the rigors of Intercessoria work, and I am a monogamous homosexual. Life in a Sirennic Court is not to my taste. It’s rather…incestuous… to put it mildly.”
“What about Reginald?” Layla pushed, curious.
“He could be our First, and leave father to only worry about the demands of being King.” Tempeste spoke with a dark kind of wistfulness. “Reginald’s magic is strong enough. But he’s never shifted into his Dragon, and there are those who are worried about that point. Plus, he would be hunted by the Intercessoria if he ever left the Hotel, which would put me in a very awkward position. Reginald is an anomaly among Sirens, you must understand. Most Sirens glorify in their power and use it to their advantage. We’re a very cutthroat Lineage. Like the Little Mermaid, Reginald has power he can’t even comprehend in the songs he weaves. But like her fable also, he has tremendous flaws that prevent him from pursuing the fullness of his gift.”
“He’s afraid of it.” Layla understood suddenly.
“Ever since Avri’s death, yes. Reginald drowned an entire coastline with tsunamis for three days, and still didn’t shift into his Dragon. Most Sirens can’t create a single tsunami with their songs, let alone do it in human form.”
Tempeste’s gaze was pointed, and Layla got the point. Reginald was a force of the ocean, but like his natural beauty, he hid it away, fearful of the power it held. Thinking about that, she settled in as the plane turned onto the runway, revving its engines into takeoff. She gripped the arm of her seat, hating the sudden weightless sensation as the jet lifted off.
But then it was over and she was in the air – heading to Manarola with the Intercessoria at her side.
CHAPTER 15 – ITALY
Though he’d been prickly at first, Layla found Reginald’s eldest brother Tempeste Durant to be a wonderful conversation partner during the flight to Genoa, and she found herself surprisingly grateful for his company. She’d assumed all Intercessoria were as cold and calculating as Heathren Merkami, but she soon found that Tempeste was a family man – he was only prickly because he missed being with his loved ones. They were soon laughing together, enjoying more drinks as the plane leveled out into cruising altitude.
“So are you going to accompany me all the way to the Aviary?” Layla asked as they began sipping their third in-flight drink.
“No, unfortunately.” Tempeste set his dry martini with three olives down on his tray table with a precise gesture. “The Intercessoria still do not know the precise location of King Arini’s stronghold. You’d think we would by now, but that place is protected by incomprehensible magics, ancient as time itself. As the story goes, Arini himself discovered it by pure luck, scented it out upon the sea-winds while composing poetry off the cliffs of Manarola. It remains a secret to this day, a place no one knows of except by invitation with one of Arini’s feathers.”
“Can’t you just hold him down and pluck a feather to get invitation?” Layla snorted into her third Jack and Coke.
“No.” Tempeste’s amused grin matched hers. “Though that would make it tremendously easier to contact the Phoenix King. The feather has to contain the resonant energy of a personalinvitation. Your feather, for instance, would not invite me to the King’s stronghold. Only you.”
“So I go in and you stay out?” Layla mulled that over, that even the Intercessoria had limits.
“Yes.” Tempeste’s gaze was frank and a sudden seriousness settled around him. “I cannot protect you inside Arini’s fortress, Layla. I can get you safely to Manarola, but there I must take a B&B until your time with Arini is finished. You won’t have any friends inside the Aviary, though the Phoenix tend to be peaceful unless their feathers get ruffled. And I know about Dusk Arlohaim’s tracking systems. There are no credit card readers inside the Aviary, so his plan fails there, and advanced technology tends to go kaput inside the Aviary because of warding-magics. The only one who will be able to track your whereabouts within the Aviary is Reginald. He’ll be able to feel if you’re in trouble, and he has my Intercessoria number to alert me if he feels distress from you. But I’ll not be able to get to you. If anything happens in there… you’ll have to get yourself out for the Intercessoria to help. Am I clear?”
“Crystal.” Layla thought that over as she sipped her drink. “Do you think I’ll be in danger inside the Aviary?”
“It depends.” Tempeste’s gaze was thoughtful, and Layla saw his eyes subtly change from ice-blue to a light blue-grey. “Does Hunter know about the Aviary? Can he get inside? Does he have someone among Arini’s Phoenix who does his dirty-work? The Intercessoria estimate that about a hundred individuals in the Twilight Realm have Aviary access. Not all of them are Phoenix, but most are, and you are now one of them. That feather Arini gave you is not a one-time pass. It is forever, unless Arini decides to revoke your access. He is placing a deep trust in you, Layla. Deeper than perhaps you know.”
“I’m starting to get the idea.” Layla sat back, frowning. “Why would Arini trust me this way?”
“Who knows?” Tempeste’s smile was kind. “Perhaps he wishes to know you better, and this is his way of showing it. Arini is an enigma; he rarely shows his cards to anyone. He knows how to play the game of ruthlessness better than any King or Queen I’ve ever met. And yet, he is tremendously kind. Just not a fool.”
“So what’s our play?”
“There isn’t one.” Tempeste sipped his martini. “Once you’re inside, there is no play. Speak with Arini, try to stay as close to him as possible once you’re in. Trust no-one else. Get out as soon as you feel you have enough information to help us locate Hunter, or at least learn something about him that we can use. And then, Adrian is yours.”
Layla nodded, feeling a sudden weight in her chest. This journey was so far outside her comfort zone. She’d never been in a situation of political intrigue or danger before. Sure, she’d traveled through areas where her safety had not been guaranteed, and she’d had to bribe her way out of a few tight spots over the years, especially traveling alone as a woman. Crossing her arms, she heaved a sigh. Glancing over, Tempeste reached out, settling a hand to her thigh. Layla felt a gentle ocean wave pour through her, not strong but calming.
“You’ll do fine.” Tempeste held her gaze with his grey-blue eyes. “You have more spark and quick thinking than many Judiciary the Intercessoria has sent in to do undercover work. And power; don’t forget your power. I’ve seen the cracked sapphire door on the Paris Hotel’s Vault, Layla. Your energy is wild, but it’s there. If there’s any emergency…” His gaze shifted to Reginald’s choker, “cast away my brother’s gifts. Rip them from your skin if you have to, tear them to pieces if you must, to unleash your magic. Better to have you alive. I’m sure my youngest Siro would agree.”
Drawing a deep breath, Layla nodded. She knew what rip-roaring magic she carried in her veins. Even though it would be awful to ruin Reginald’s gifts, she knew Tempeste’s words were sage. If it came down to it, she would rather have her power unleashed to be able to fight with it, not have it be hampered by magical restriction.
Just then, an announcement of descent came over the PA system, and she felt the jet begin to angle down. Their empty drinks were picked up and Layla and Tempeste Durant settled in as the jet descended steeply into Genoa, then landed with a smooth touchdown. They taxied to the gate and before long were stopped, the seatbelt sign dinging off and everyone rising to claim luggage.
Tempeste was gentlemanly, helping Layla get her bag down, though all he had was his briefcase. He motioned her in front of him, then trailed her like a bodyguard as they exited the plane and walked up the jetway. Once they were out into the Genoa airport, he walked at her side – though his gaze swept the airport, piercing, a cold wind easing off his skin like icebergs.
Walking through the airport, they made their way to the train system. Purchasing tickets from an automated kiosk, they waited for the next train to La Spezia, settling in at a well-used plastic bench and avoiding stepping in old gum on the concrete platform. Though it was nighttime now, it was warmer in Italy than it had been in Paris, and Layla left her jacket tucked over her rolling bag, massaging a cramp from her neck as she opened the collar of her sweater.
“So, we’ve got an hour-and-a-half train ride ahead,” Tempeste spoke casually as he glanced over. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask, Layla? I’ve been cleared to give you any information you need about the Intercessoria, within reason. And as far as family matters, if you wish to learn more about Reginald, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me blabbing.”
Crossing her legs and bouncing one boot as they waited, Layla considered it. “Actually, I do have a few questions, about both.”
