Page 11 of Against the Veil (Endangered Fae #3)

“That’s very sensible and considerate of you. But he’s still human, so he can’t catch fae diseases. I’ll ask him to come see you, or have Faolchú ask him if he doesn’t understand me.”

Finn seemed cheered by this and settled back into a quiet, warm presence snuggled against Diego’s mind. While they rarely intruded on each other’s thoughts unless one of them was in obvious distress, it had become a comfort to have Finn always within easy reach, even when miles separated them.

He eased back in his chair as his monitor powered up, his eyes burning from lack of sleep.

If he had any sense, he’d take his own advice and snatch a nap while the peace lasted.

First, he needed to check if anything urgent had come in overnight.

The usual bulletins and inquiries populated his inbox.

Carol would take care of most of them. He sent a vague promise to the Russian Embassy regarding a visit to the island and made a note to speak to their majesties about the request. A quick note went to the Secretary of State, reassurance that, yes, all was well and Prince Lugh did not at all blame the U.S. for the attack on his aide.

Yet another email from someone named ‘Minky’ who wrote on behalf of The Silver Adepts made him sigh. They were one of the more persistent groups of magic enthusiasts, obviously young from the tone and construction of the emails.

Hi Mr. Sandoval—

Wasn’t sure if you got the last msg. Didn’t hear back. If you don’t want to help, please tell us, we’ll find someone else.

He recalled the previous emails and felt a bit guilty for ignoring them.

Whether this group had any real connection to the flows or not, he had no idea, but he did know what it was like to feel frustrated and frightened by a gift he had no idea how to tap into or control.

What could it hurt to give them a little advice?

Dear Minky—

My apologies for not answering sooner. We have been a whirlwind of activity here and I have fallen behind shamefully with correspondence.

Please understand that I am still learning to ride the flows of magic myself. My first experiences were during seizures—not conducive to learning. The actual learning began one day playing in the water with a féileacán pair…

“Well? What’s he say?”

Minky wrinkled her nose. “He’s telling us to play with water.”

A mug sailed across the room to shatter against the far wall. She flinched, wishing she really could disappear.

“Fuck! I knew it! He doesn’t even take us seriously!”

“O.M.G. Chill, Bran.” Kara crossed the room with a wastebasket to pick up the shards of ceramic. “Such a drama queen. Read it to us, Mink.”

She took a deep breath and read the Consul’s reply. It was a nice reply, polite and friendly—he seemed like such a nice man—but she couldn’t help the disappointment in her voice.

“He won’t teach us.” Will’s voice cracked and broke. “He just thinks we’re a bunch of stupid kids.”

“We are a bunch of stupid kids,” Kara said in a dry tone.

Brandon paced, the tendons in his neck standing out like bridge cables. “He’s safe on his island, surrounded by the fae. He’s not out here, feeling what we feel. He has to know. He has to—”

“Why do we need him, anyway?” Nate balanced a ruler on his hand, his eyes glazing over in concentration as it lifted from his palm and floated to the center of the room. “We’re learning.”

Brandon snatched the ruler from the air and broke it in half. “Not fast enough! Making office supplies fly isn’t going to do a damn thing!”

Will buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking in silent misery. Brandon rolled his eyes but went to gather Will in his arms. “Hey, c’mon, babe. We’ll think of something. I’ll think of something.”

“Highness…Prince Lugh…”

Someone touched his shoulder. His eyes snapped open.

Carol stood over him, her face crimson. He ran a hand over his eyes and took a belated look down at his body as he sat up.

Blankets covered him but by Carol’s complexion, he was certain they had slipped off while he slept and she had just replaced them.

“Your pardon, Carol. I didn’t wish to offend you.”

“You didn’t. Big difference between embarrassed and offended, Highness.” She handed him a cup of tea. “Mr. S. thought we should probably wake you up.”

He glanced out of the window at the late-afternoon sun sparkling on the fountain in the garden. “Yes, thank you. Most likely best.” He sipped, grateful for the slide of hot tea along his parched throat. “Would you know where Diego is now?”

“Oh, sure.” She pointed with her chin. “He’s out walking in the garden with Sergeant Morrison.

Well, the wolf that’s Sergeant Morrison, anyway.

” She fussed about the room for a moment, straightening magazines and picking up cushions.

“I’m leaving for the night, Highness. The rest of the human staff, too.

Captain Faolchú said he and some of the Fomorian warriors would take security detail at the front door and the docks. ”

Lugh nodded. When exactly Faolchú had acquired the title, he couldn’t recall, but the humans had given it to him since he commanded the Fomorian war bands. “That’s wise, I think.”

She gave him a long look and said softly, “You be careful tonight, Highness.”

“Perhaps nothing will occur.”

“Maybe not,” she said in a voice that made it clear she didn’t entertain any such optimistic notion.

She left him with a pot of tea, a cucumber sandwich and one of his kilts discreetly draped over the arm of the sofa. Amazing woman. Not a drop of ability to tap into the flows and still she always seemed to know exactly what was needed. Anyone would have been lucky to have her at their side.

A flush of shame interrupted his musings when he realized he had no idea if Carol had a spouse or a lover.

He knew nothing about her outside of the embassy walls, nothing about any of the staff once they left for the day.

Zack most likely knew and he was certain Diego made it a point to know.

He had to start paying better attention to the humans in his life, stop relying on Diego and the staff for everything.

He stretched to crack his back in several places and rose to put on the blood-red kilt Carol had left.

“I do wish she had chosen a different color,” he murmured as he made his way out of the back door to the garden.

He found Diego on a stone bench in the wisteria arbor, Zack stretched out at his feet, dozing on the flagstones. One back leg twitched as Zack dreamed. Lugh hoped they were good dreams, full of rabbits to chase and pack mates with whom to run.

Diego glanced up at him, then at the sun dropping lower against the trees. “Look well, O Wolves,” he said softly.

“Pardon?”

“Sorry. From Rudyard Kipling. It’s a story about a boy raised by wolves. I’m not sure why the scene keeps playing over in my mind. Not as if Zack will ever belong to a pack.”

“We are his pack, then.” Lugh crouched down when Zack raised his head from his paws, tail thumping. “Which rather turns the story on its head.”

“I guess it does.”

The tone pulled Lugh’s head around. Diego sat staring into the distance, pale and drawn.

“Diego, are you ill?”

“No.” Diego bent and stroked Zack’s thick ruff. “Not physically. I can’t help thinking that I’ve done all this, though. Finn’s illness. The vampire in L.A. The uncontrolled incidents of magic in humans.” He swallowed hard. “Zack.”

“What do you mean? How could you have done all of these things?”

“There haven’t been werewolves in the world in the last century. Or magical illnesses. Or magic at all.”

“Ah.” Lugh thought long and hard how to answer this, afraid that he would drive Diego further into his self-recriminations.

He covered Diego’s knee with his hand. “For good or ill, light-wielder, this is the way the world was meant to be. If these things occur again, it is only because they have before. The world was slowly dying, yours and mine. You have restored it. The restoration has consequences, surely, but they are no more than the natural order of things. Sunlight and storm.”

“Please don’t lecture me about balance and order,” Diego said as he jerked his knee away. “My beloved spouse has been sick for a month and Zack’s a freaking werewolf!” He buried his face in his hands. “ Dios, ay Dios …where will it end?”

Lugh rose, a sudden irritation prickling his spine. “There is no end. Only new threads knotted to the old. Until the stars cease to wheel above and the sun goes out, the ocean silenced, there is no end.” He gestured sharply. “Come, Zachary. We must be prepared for what might come with moonrise.”

The wolf heaved himself to his feet, licked Diego’s hand and trotted after. While part of Lugh ached to leave Diego sitting alone and bereft, the greater part was irritated at the hand wringing when there were things to see to.

Footsteps echoed behind him on the path. “Please.” Diego touched his arm. “Forgive me. I’m running on no sleep and too much worry. What can I do to help?”

Lugh leaned down to kiss the top of his head to accept his apology. “Barricade us in. No matter what you hear, no one opens the door until morning.”

“But I could—”

“I know you could.” Lugh held up a hand. “You could do any number of things. Better than I. But I think it’s safest to leave it with just two. If he turns again, he may even know me still since I was with him during his last beast phase.”

Diego clamped his lips together in a thin line, obviously considering further protest. “All right. But if you call for help, I’m coming to help.”

“Fair enough. Does the room have what I requested?”

“Everything you asked for. And a few things you didn’t.”

“Thank you.”