According to Simone, Rachel was out of the infirmary no worse for the wear. But she’d told me the fae had marked her. Every time she stepped outside the boundaries of the Keep, a strange mark appeared on her brow that looked like an S with two diagonal slashes. It had faded after a moment, but when she stepped into town, several residents approached her, magic at the ready.
Someone finally took mercy on Rachel and told her what the mark meant.
Simone begrudgingly asked my parents if they could remove it only to help them prevent war when Rachel returned to Europe. She, at least, was still under the impression this was all some grave misunderstanding that would work itself out.
Mom and Dad had been at my house during the phone call and had laughed their heads off, telling Simone their quarrel was not with the Lords, or at least not the European Lords, only Rachel. They would not remove the mark, thank you very much, and if Simone or Caelan insisted, they’d have no trouble extending the range of Caelan’s mark, which would effectively terminate his rule over the Joy Springs area, all of Texas, and wherever else the poor bastard ruled.
Needless to say, Simone was smart enough to realize she was beaten and dropped it, then quietly asked if she’d been marked.
Mom and Dad had shown too many teeth when they smiled and Dad said, “Not yet.”
Honestly, it was kind of awesome having feral parents.
“Old man?” Dad murmured. “Any time you want to tangle Cliona, you give me a call.” He straightened and crossed his powerful arms over his chest.
Dad was in full on athletic gear mode, wearing a pair of charcoal-colored joggers and a dark t-shirt even though it was cold as hell outside.
Mom was dressed down, too, which was a surprise. She wore a pair of old skinny jeans, slip on sneakers, and a striped cotton sweater. Her hair was in a thick braid and slung over one shoulder. The Banshee Queen looked like she was a college student home for winter break.
I’d walked out here with a cup of cocoa and spotted them. Sensing they were in a pissing contest, I curled into a rocker with a blanket to watch the fireworks.
Not knowing what the hell they were arguing about made things even more interesting.
“Dual,” Mom said.
Dad scoffed. “Too much. Just because yours is separate doesn’t mean she will have time for additional duties.”
Wait. She?
“There won’t be any additional duties because I have no plans to retire, but I do need a representative in her realm because I prefer being at home. In saying that, there may be a few meetings here and there, but nothing major.”
My eyes narrowed.
“She’ll be far too busy with her other duties to take on much more.”
“Who are you talking about?” I blurted.
Mom’s expression turned crafty. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about what’s going on in my realm since you’re blocked from entering? You could use her as a spy.”
I gaped. “You blocked Dad?”
“A story for another time,” Mom said. “Tess says hello and wants you to visit her soon. Any word on Lugh?”
I’d neglected that as well. And the shop. And Ash. Moira had been by a couple of times but was giving me the space I’d needed. I was going back to work tomorrow and giving Ash a paid week off whether he wanted it or not. He’d stepped way up for all of us and kept things running while I was on the couch shoveling ice cream down my throat.
“No, but I was planning on sending him home tonight. If I can find him.”
“You will,” Mom said. “This stunt was never about Tess in the first place. It’s always been about you. Keep in mind, he may know you’re the bridge and wants to exploit you. If he does know, he will be on guard for you trying to touch him.” Her eyes glittered as she smiled. “But he doesn’t know the trick you’ve been practicing.”
And practiced, I had. Every single day, multiple times a day even when I wanted to dissolve in a puddle of tears. Mom had finally pronounced me ready just yesterday.
But something else nagged at me. “What if this is not about being the bridge? What if he knows about…the other thing?”
Dad looked away from Mom. “Then you must decide if you wish to fight him as a Floromancer, the heir to our people, or the beast that prowls under your skin.”
“Any suggestions?” Because none of those sounded awesome. I lay firmly on team sci-fi transporter and hoped I could just beam him back to whatever hell he’d come from and never allow him passage back.
Moira hadn’t brought any other people through, though she’d pulled an odd plant that looked a little like Seymour but bit a hell of a lot harder and was now happily hanging out in my greenhouse eating my herbs when it thought I wasn’t looking.
