Elfhome

“To suggest Forge means harm to his grandson is slander and the Stone Clan will call foul. You are under the queen’s protection, but Wolf is not. If you continue to insist that Forge is acting in collusion with the oni when there is no proof that this is true — then Wolf will have to deal with the consequences.”

“This is not right.” Tinker controlled the urge to kick something. She didn’t have her steel toe boots on, and it would probably be bad form to kick the prince while he was kneeling before her. She glared at Red Knife behind the prince. “My cousin would not leave his household unprotected. Iron Mace deliberately sent Thorne Scratch away so she could not object to my cousin being taken against his will. If not for Blue Sky, the children would have vanished into the city for the second time. Three are dead by the oni’s hand already. My beholden who stood guard on my cousin is dead. It is not right that the Stone Clan has clemency because I can not hold up a bloody knife.”

“Politics is a battle of wits, not swords.” Red Knife said. “You are well armed. Apply the rules.”

#

“Are you really going to take that as an answer?” Riki asked.

She kept tightly focused on the ground because she didn’t want to kick him either. He wasn’t the one that she was angry with. “Yes. For now. I’m not starting a war with the Stone Clan.”

When they first returned from Aum Renau she hadn’t been sure that she loved Windwolf. How horrible was it that she knew with all certainty that she loved him beyond reason, because otherwise she would have sacrificed him for Oilcan in a heartbeat.

“I’ll deal with them after I’ve taken care of the greater bloods.” She growled. “But if they hurt Oilcan…”

Power suddenly burned across her magic sense, somewhere to the south a spell flared into existence, blazing brilliant.

She whimpered.

“Domi?” Pony asked.

“It’s too late. They changed him.” She turned to Riki. “Find Oilcan. Make sure he’s safe, but don’t pick a fight with the Stone Clan domana. I just need to know he’s okay.”

“Yes, domi.” He bowed and took wing. A moment later there was a thunder of black wings and the skies filled with tengu.

#

A battle of wits.

Tinker paced the empty halls of Sacred Heart looking for clues.

A battle of wits.

Tinker’s grandfather taught her chess when she stopped trying to eat the pieces, sometime around her second birthday. She beat him regularly by the time she was five but she never liked the game. It was fine and good to puzzle around the limits of the pieces, but it ignored the humanity of the game piece’s names. One knight should be able to best the rest in combat. One bishop should be able to perform miracles and raise the dead. One of the rooks should be a genius inventor of impenetrable defenses. One of the pawns should be a coward and another a spy for the other side. While she couldn’t remember the source of this opinion, she suspected Tooloo, since chess with the half-elf often ended with the white queen seduced by the black knight, or the black bishop killing his own king as a heretic.

The thing about chess — it was only hard if you couldn’t guess what your opponent’s next move would be. Once you recognized the pattern of attack, you could run circles around the other player.

Like the oni had been doing to them.

Over and over again, the oni had been one step ahead of the elves.

“Shit,” Tinker breathed as chess, Tooloo, and the events of the last few days collided in her brain.

Fight your shadow, Providence had told her.

A shadow was right there, under your feet, watching every move.

“Shit!” Tinker slapped her hand over her mouth. If she was right, then anything she said could be heard.

“Are you okay?” Stormsong asked.

Hand still over her mouth, Tinker nodded, eyes wide.

How was she going to beat someone that knew what she was about to do?

39: Making Peace

If Jewel Tear was a drug then Tommy was addicted. He tried quitting cold turkey, pushing on ahead, carrying Spot to fill his hands. Like any good drug, though, the hooks were sunk deep into him already, urging him to do stupid things. He clung tight to his anger to armor himself against the urges. He might care about Jewel Tear against his will and all common sense, but she wasn’t in love with him. The oni made sure she understood all the horrors of the whelping pens. Tommy was a convenient tool, a way to delay the inevitable if she was recaptured by the oni.

The thing that pissed him off the most was the fact that Jin was right. Jewel Tear kept going on and on about Windwolf offering sponsorship to Tommy. Behind that “bitch about my ex” was the assumption that the half-oni would follow the tengu’s lead and tie themselves to a domana. Despite the cat ears and the little cousin that was more dog than boy, Tommy was an acceptable boy toy because one day he was going to be Beholden.

Someone’s. Anyone’s. Not hers — at least she wasn’t asking.

Part of him — linked strongly to his dick — desperately wanted her to ask.