Then there were the members of Oberon’s Dark Court, who all hated and feared him, and with good reason, and a smattering of unfortunate people all over the world who had learned, through him, what it meant to get on Isabeau’s bad side.
A couple of Isabeau’s Hounds had been decent men before she had ordered him to change them as she had taken and changed Morgan. But more often than not, her Hounds had been bad men and mean fighters, and turning them into lycanthropes had exacerbated both qualities.
As their captain, Morgan often had to command through force. It was his responsibility to make sure they obeyed orders, and he’d had to put Hounds down when they refused to learn how to control their beasts. The dynamic didn’t make for cozy relationships.
He had gone without for so long, he had forgotten some time ago to notice his lack of friends until this very moment. Carefully he brushed the crumbs off his fingers after finishing his last pie.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He sighed. “It’s my pleasure. You don’t have to thank me after every meal, Sidonie.”
“You can call me Sid. Most people do.”
Sid. He liked that. It was quirky. He liked her full name too. It sounded like her, feminine and elegant.
When he nudged her to take a candy, she did and popped it in her mouth. After a moment, she stirred. “You still haven’t told me why you’re helping me.”
He didn’t take a candy. Instead, he whispered levelly, “Remember what I did tell you.”
She gestured impatiently. “Yes, I know. It’s too dangerous for you to tell me anything. I’m not supposed to know who you are. Only I don’t buy it.”
He murmured, “I was just thinking how smart you were. Don’t prove me wrong.”
Her shadowed face lifted to his. “I’m not asking you to tell me your identity. I’m asking you for something more personal than a label or a name. I’m just asking why. Why are you helping me? Being down here has got to bring back bad memories for you. You could be anywhere else right now. Why are you here, sitting and eating with me in this awful place?”
Chapter Eight
It was a fair question, but he didn’t want to answer it.
The other alternative was to leave, yet he found himself reluctant to go. That would leave her alone for almost an entire day, and he hated the idea of her sitting alone in this cell. Propping his elbow on an upraised knee, he rubbed his forehead as he grappled with unruly emotions.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, very low. “You shouldn’t know anything about Avalon, you shouldn’t be imprisoned, and you should never have been tortured. You should never have met Modred or Isabeau, or me either, for that matter. You should be free, living a totally oblivious life. Playing your music, falling in love with someone clever, kind, and educated, sightseeing all the beauty in the world. Your music is passionate and wildly brilliant. It’s some of the best I’ve heard in generations. Everything about you shines with bright colors, and yet look where you are right now. It is an abomination.”
As he spoke her hand stole onto his knee.
At her touch, the words backed up in his throat, and it took him a moment before he could speak again, through clenched teeth. “Your presence here offends me. It goes against everything inside me to have to walk away every time I leave and to know I’m leaving you behind. To know I can’t do anything to break you free from this. Robin did his work all too well.”
“What did you do to him?”
The breath left him in an angry exhalation. Bitterness laced his reply. “I did everything I was ordered to do.”
“Everything,” she repeated blankly. Then, in the barest thread of sound, she asked, “Did you torture him?”
She asked like she was afraid to hear the answer, yet all the while her hand never moved from his knee. He forced himself to breathe evenly, although it was a heavy, audible sound.
“No,” he answered. “My services were required elsewhere. But I was the one to capture him, and I would have tortured him, if I had been ordered to. If Isabeau ordered me to service her in her bed, I would obey—and never mind that the very sight of her makes me nauseated with rage.”
Her fingers tightened until he could feel each separate one, digging into his skin. She breathed, “That’s horrible. The thought never occurred to me.”
“Thankfully, the thought has never occurred to her either.” He wiped his mouth, trying to get the idea out of his mind. “Or if it has, she would never act on it. She’s too bigoted. Bedding me would be akin to bestiality to her. She’d as soon have sex with one of her dogs, and while she has her own aberrant behaviors, she’s not prey to that particular perversion. Also, if she tried something like that, I might have to obey, but she knows I would find a way to retaliate. The problem with a geas of control is you can never quite issue enough orders to cover every eventuality that may arise.” A dark note entered his voice. “She’s learned that lesson the hard way a couple of times.”
She whispered, “‘He who rides a tiger is afraid to dismount.’”
Curiosity stirred. “Where did you hear that?”
“It’s an old Chinese proverb. Nowadays, people say somebody has grabbed a tiger by the tail as a way to describe a difficult or dangerous situation. It sounds like Isabeau has got you by the tail and doesn’t dare let go.” Although he knew she couldn’t see him, she twisted to sit facing him. “Have you noticed something? Even though you weren’t able to tell me about the compulsion, once I guessed, you’ve been able to talk about it.”
“The geas is like that,” he replied. “Sometimes I can find my way around orders to certain freedoms. I’ve been expressly forbidden to help prisoners escape, but that doesn’t mean I can’t aid them from time to time, like I am with you. I’ve been ordered to never tell anyone I’m acting under a geas, but you and I can discuss a fact you already know. If she had ordered me to never talk about the geas with anyone, I would be mute right now. One of her greatest flaws is her own carelessness. I hope it will be her downfall one day.”
“Specifics matter,” she whispered. “How you phrase things, what elements you choose to put in a spell or a bargain, or what you choose to leave out. I don’t know anything else about magic, but dealing with the Djinn has taught me that much. When the first Djinn approached and wanted to bargain to attend one of my concerts, I consulted with a negotiating expert before striking a deal. I learned a lot from her.”
Despite the heavy topic, he found himself smiling again. “That was smart.”
“Now several Djinn owe me favors.” She emitted a ghost of a laugh. “I keep them as my safety net. The funny thing is, they could have just taken physical form and bought a concert ticket like everyone else.”
He chuckled silently. “I remember when a few of the Djinn bargained with me to listen to my music. Gods, I haven’t thought of that in ages. It happened so long ago. One of them told me they experience music in an entirely different way when they’re bodiless in their natural form. The vibration of the sound suffuses them entirely. They have a way of appreciating music that’s completely alien to us. I doubt a single Djinn would consider attending a concert in an embodied form. That would be like trying to listen to music with earplugs, or appreciate a work of art while wearing a blindfold. It’s simply unthinkable if you have the alternative.”
He had lost himself so deeply in reverie, her surprise came like a dash of cold water to the face. She exclaimed, “You never said you were a musician! What do you play?”
His pleasure faded. “I’m not, at least not anymore. I haven’t played anything in centuries.”
“That would kill me.” Her whisper shook. “They killed me when they broke my hands. I can’t live without my music.”
He put his hand over both of hers as she twisted them together in her lap. “You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. You have no idea what you can survive until you’re pushed to find out.”
Underneath his palm, her clenched hands opened, unfurling like a flower. She cupped his hand between hers, and in a gesture that shocked him to the core, she slid to his side and put her head on his shoulder. “I really can’t trust you, can I?”