The Undead Pool

With a final warning glance, Landon nodded. “Absolutely.” He turned to me as if to say something, changing his mind when I pulled on the line in a silent warning to not touch me. He was lucky all I’d done was shove him. Seeing my hair beginning to snarl under the line’s energy, he nodded, as if I’d confirmed his claim, and left.

I backed up to soothe Red, though to be honest, I was the one who needed the soothing.

Trent watched Landon go past him in search of Bancroft, and I shook my head when he wordlessly asked me if he wanted me to intervene. Mood bad, Trent followed Landon, and I busied myself with Red. Damn it, I could have probably handled that better.

“You okay, Ms. Rachel?” Bis asked, and I closed my eyes in a long blink.

“Fine,” I said, my hand brushing Red. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you in here.”

Bis shifted his feet. There were dents in the heavy wood. “He’s a jerk. Forget him.”

But I couldn’t. He wasn’t just a jerk, but one with the power to cause a lot of trouble. I’d known my working as Trent’s security was going to raise eyebrows, but he hadn’t seemed to care. He’d probably care now; the enclave was the political house of the elves, and therefore important. “He shouldn’t have touched me.”

“I know. That’s why I came to check.”

He was a good kid, and his ears pricked as the soft voices of Trent and Landon became more obvious. “You okay now?” he asked, and when I nodded, he stretched his wings and looked at the nearby open door. “I’ll be outside when you’re ready to go,” he added, and Landon’s horse tied to the door shied when he flew out like a huge bat.

Trent’s voice raised, his anger clear as he said, “I didn’t ask you here to test her morality. I asked you here to help solve a problem.”

“I think she is the problem,” Landon said, not a hint of remorse in his voice. “She is covered in smut. Smut caused by demon magic. She admits it.”

“She admitted to doing black magic?”

“No, but that’s the only place smut comes from.”

What part of our conversation weren’t you listening to? All of it? I wondered, feeling icky as I strained to hear Trent say, “I watched her use a demon curse this week. It created a ball of light. It hurt no one, not even herself, and it caused smut. It was not black. Your logic is unsound, Landon. And I will stand in the enclave and say the same thing. Back. Off.”

But my relief was short-lived. “Sa’han, if I may be candid, the reason the dewar is insisting on this marriage is because of your continuing association with demons.”

“Rachel is—”

“Not a demon? Yes, she is, and you can’t pull her back once you have pushed her across that line. I’ve seen all I need. Drop this association or you will lose what little support you still have. Marrying Ellasbeth is no longer enough to maintain your standing, living heirs or not.”

Shocked, I slipped back into the stall as I understood what he was saying. Trent was being forced into this marriage because of me. To maintain control of the enclave and elven society, he had to marry Ellasbeth. He’d helped me survive, and I helped him in turn, and now he was going to lose everything.

“Landon!” Bancroft bellowed, and Red stomped, wanting to be out in the night.

“Your master is calling,” Trent said, tone collected, but I could hear his anger.

I turned my back as the sound of Landon’s boots went faint, not moving until the clop of another horse’s hooves pulled me back around. Trent stood with Tulpa, the big animal watching Red with pricked ears. Trent’s face looked as frustrated as mine, serious in dismay. I wasn’t a black demon, but all the masses saw was perception, not truth.

“There’s been a change in plan,” he said, and I cinched Red’s saddle tight and led her out. “I’m going with you, not Landon.”

“Fine with me,” I said, handing him Red’s reins and swinging up onto Tulpa as if I’d ridden the huge animal every day of my life. I gave him a nudge, and he leaped for the door, his sudden burst of speed breathless. Trent was right behind, and we took the fence at the end of the paddock together, the wind in my hair and the darkness spilling through me as we ran for the hill, oblivious of everything as my thoughts churned.

Three months ago I might have simply shaken Trent’s hand and walked away. Now . . . it wasn’t that easy.

Fourteen