“Because that library is locked against you, with a Fae charm on the lock so you can’t pick it, and Micah has the only key.” Maeve strolled across the floor, stopping right in front of Sebastian. He could smell her perfume and the scent of her skin. It was the dry musk of a forest floor, the scent she couldn’t disguise, the one that revealed her Fae nature. She widened her eyes slightly. “And you have to follow Micah’s plan, just to have any hope of retrieving that key.” She wrinkled her nose. “No matter how stupid the plan seems to be.”
“There’s no need to rub salt in the wound,” Sebastian said lightly.
“It must burn, though,” she murmured, feigning sympathy. Even though Sebastian knew it was an act, he couldn’t stop listening to her words. “To be beholden to anyone would be anathema to one who insists on choosing his own path, who needs to make his own decisions. It would sting more to that individual than to any other being alive.”
Sebastian frowned. “I assume you have a point.”
Her smile flashed. “I can shatter that charm.”
He met her gaze, snared by her assertion. She watched him knowingly, that smile playing over her lips. She had the perfect bait and she knew it.
Of course, Maeve could break a Fae spell. She controlled most if not all of the magick remaining in the world. Sebastian would have thought of it before, but he’d never imagined that Maeve would do anything for him.
Things had just become very intriguing.
“There must be a price,” he said with care, trying to hide his interest. He was pretty sure he failed. That library meant everything to him—well, not quite everything, but it was the one thing he desired that he had a chance of having. He couldn’t say the same for the alluring Sylvia—and Maeve knew it.
She held up a finger. “Just one little favor,” she said, waving that finger playfully. “That’s all I ask in exchange. One teensy favor in exchange for making it possible for you to claim your heart’s desire.”
Sebastian heard the distinctions and qualifiers. He wasn’t clear of a trick, not yet. He folded his arms across his chest and stared her down. “Why?” he asked. “Why would you even make such an offer?”
Maeve spun and crossed the room, tapping her fingertips on every piece of furniture she passed. He sensed that she was weighing her options, assessing the value of telling him the truth, deciding whether it was worth it, seeking a plausible lie to surrender as a substitute.
The Dark Queen would play an excellent game of chess.
Maybe he should challenge her to one.
She pivoted when she reached the other side of the fireplace and he knew from the hard glitter of her gaze that she’d decided to tell him the truth. “Things are not proceeding according to plan,” she admitted, much to his surprise.
“Please.” Sebastian scoffed, hoping to prompt her into revealing more. “You command all the magick now that the dragon prince is dead. Any incompetence on your part isn’t my problem to fix.”
She inhaled sharply, those eyes flashing. “I do command all the magick. I have the gem of the hoard! There are no competitors left.”
“Then what’s the trouble?”
She frowned, then met his gaze. “The magick is making choices of its own.”
That was new. But Eithne had said in her last confession that the magick she’d brought from Regalia was so highly advanced that it was sentient. Did Maeve know that? Sebastian wasn’t sure.
“How interesting,” he said mildly as if it was all news to him. “Would you share an example?” He went to the small bar he kept in a cabinet. He lifted out a crystal brandy snifter, holding up the glass toward Maeve in invitation. She nodded without hesitation. He took out a second and a wonderful bottle of Courvoisier that he’d been saving. He poured them each a generous measure and offered her a glass. She cradled it in her hand, warming the liquor, then sniffed approvingly of it. They toasted each other and sipped.
She stared into the glass for long moments, swirling its contents. Sebastian pretended to be content to wait. He should have been so, as an immortal, but he’d never managed to get over his impatience.
He struggled to keep from tapping his toe, silently willing Maeve to get on with it—and soon.
“I slipped a shard of ice into the heart of a child,” she finally confessed, her voice soft. “Not a real shard of ice, of course: that would have been unnecessarily cruel. It was magick, a spell intended to freeze out all the empathy and compassion in her heart.”
“Like the Snow Queen and the boy Kay.”
Maeve glanced up and nodded. “But there is no Snow Queen. There never was.”
“Of course. You inspired all the stories.”
Her voice hardened. “Don’t mock me, bloodsucker. I don’t really need you.”
Sebastian held up his hand in surrender. “My mistake. Tell me about the splinter.”
“It was a plan to ensure the child grew up without emotions, that she became a creature of pure logic and precision, that she could be relied upon to do what others would not. She was a tithe to me, my possession and my slave, even though she was mortal. I had to control her natural impulses. I had to guarantee that she could be relied upon to follow my command.”
“I’m going to guess you had a specific assignment for her?”
“To kill.” Maeve swirled the contents of her glass, apparently forgetting that she was talking to a vampire who killed routinely. “She was to be my assassin of choice. It worked perfectly. She grew up, she followed my orders, she targeted victims with precision and never showed one sign of remorse. She was a killing machine, one with additional powers because of her heritage.”
“That heritage being?”
“She was half mortal and half shifter. She could pass in mortal society as one of them, but had the ability to change form. I gave her the ability to spontaneously manifest elsewhere. There was no silver flash of light to betray her arrival, as there is when my warriors move between the realms. Once I gave her the kiss of death, she was the perfect assassin.” Maeve fell silent, her lips tightening, and Sebastian noticed that she’d used the past tense.
“Was?” he echoed.
Maeve took a large gulp of the liquor, shocking Sebastian that she didn’t savor its magnificence. She met his gaze, her own burning with fury. “The magick betrayed me.”
“Fucking magick,” he said, almost by habit.
“Exactly,” she agreed with force. “The shard came loose from her heart. It worked its way to her palm, emerged and dissolved. It set her free and had absolutely no business ever doing so.”
“Why would it do that?’ Sebastian asked.
“I don’t know,” Maeve admitted with disgust. “I don’t know and I don’t actually care. I can’t risk losing the tool of this assassin, which creates an opportunity for you.” She took a deep breath and straightened, then held his gaze as she drained her glass. “One task in exchange for my breaking the Fae charm on the lock to your library.”
“A limited time offer.”
“I’ll make it impossible for the charm to be renewed. The key Micah claimed from you won’t work anymore. Only the original will do.”