Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 Page 22

  Blaize gave a terse nod. The door opened again and the butler bowed the dowager in.

  The lady responded shortly to their bows, but took in the elegant room with surprise arching her brows. “My daughter is here? I expected her to receive me.”

  “I haven’t informed her of your arrival. She’s resting, but remain assured she’s perfectly well.”

  The duchess lifted her chin. “I wouldn’t have allowed that in my home.”

  “She’s had an exhausting journey from Scotland, so I gave orders for her not to be disturbed.” He gestured to a seat. “Will you not sit?”

  The duchess inclined her head in a manner worthy of a queen and deigned to sit on the gilded sofa. The blue upholstery contrasted well with her blood-red gown. She waited until Blaize and d’Argento had taken seats, one either side of her, but between her and the door. Her face betrayed nothing. Although Aurelia didn’t particularly resemble her mother, there were echoes of her in the bone structure of this woman, and her eyes. The duchess waved away offers of tea.

  Sick of dissimulation, Blaize decided to get to the point. He had no time for this. “Who are you?” he demanded abruptly.

  Her shocked laugh rent the air. “You think I’d tell you that?” If her brows arched any more, they’d reach her hairline. “How foolish do you think I am?”

  “I merely thought a little honesty would help.”

  She regarded them closely. “I came for my daughter. And to discover the whereabouts of my son. I can sense my daughter here, but not him. So tell me where he is.”

  Blaize transmitted his surprise to d’Argento and d’Argento returned, I didn’t do that. Maybe he’s developed a shield against his mother.

  That stands to reason. That should help us.

  A shame he hadn’t thought to do the same for Aurelia.

  The dowager studied them both, and he felt the warmth that indicated another mind trying to penetrate his own. He let her, but only to a certain level. As if he were human. He’d spent years developing that pattern, so that anyone reading him wouldn’t immediately know he was immortal. She could read that part. He could send her images of himself and Aurelia making love. With any other woman he wouldn’t have hesitated, but the notion of exposing Aurelia like that raised his ire and forced him to push those images down so deep nobody could connect with them.

  She was his. Those memories were his. Theirs. Nobody else’s.

  While he waited, d’Argento would be at work. Not for nothing was he the messenger of the gods. His communication skills were unparalleled. If he, Blaize, took the brunt of the conversation and left him to work, d’Argento would come up with some answers.

  “Have you finished?” he said pleasantly to the duchess. “I should tell you that yes, we’re all perfectly well and we appreciate your story of a sick relative. Add a private engagement to that and we can brush this off in society well enough. If you behave cordially to us, at least in public.”

  She waved a hand in dismissal. “The fools will think what I want them to.”

  “And it’s always been that way?”

  He got a reaction from her—blankness, followed by her customary arrogance. “Naturally.”

  So it hadn’t always been that way. “What were you before you became the Duchess of Kentmere?”

  She shrugged. “A nobody. I preferred it that way. I needed to put some time between my last human existence and this one, so I lived quietly for a while as a country widow. Did you not do the same?”

  That was turning the tables with a vengeance. Now she was fishing for answers. Which meant his mental barrier had held. She didn’t know. “Did I?” Since he’d started again after the explosion she could well assume that he was one of the new, weaker generation. “I had no choice, if you remember. Did you have anything to do with that?”

  “With what?” Her blank, polite query didn’t fool him.

  “The explosion. The disaster.”

  “Hardly a disaster. Don’t you think? It cleared the air and helped to get rid of a lot of old grudges.”

  Blaize’s fury rose to choke him, but he didn’t need d’Argento’s Careful! to warn him. He kept his barriers intact. People he loved had died in that explosion. His father had died. He would never forgive the perpetrators for that. Jupiter was reborn, but in a different body, a different person. His father was gone.

  Her complacency infuriated him. Everything about her infuriated him. But he picked up something from that astonishing comment, more than her trying to rile him. “You like order, don’t you?”

  “Most people do.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why, don’t you?” She was prevaricating again.

  “Doesn’t everybody?” If he didn’t, he’d have nothing to destroy in his mad times. If everyone was mad, what was one more madman? He needed that order to create disorder. “What do you want?”

  Waiting for the signal that d’Argento was in position and ready to attack, he was running out of things to say to this despicable woman.

  “My daughter. I’ve come to take her home. You’re right, we will brush over this incident. But I wanted her for Lyndhurst, and she will have him. I know who he is, and what he represents. I can use him. You I don’t know and I don’t care for. I will destroy you.”

  That surprised a splutter of laughter from d’Argento. “So sure, madam!”

  She arched a brow. “And why should I not be?”

  “You haven’t succeeded in the past thirty years. What makes you think you can succeed now?”

  It was true; if they could have succeeded in subduing the world to their will, the Titans would have done it. But the struggles of the Olympians left, plus their hidden allies—the few humans who knew about them, the minor immortals who made themselves known like the nymphs and muses—had fought them battle by battle, forcing them back until the Olympians were ready to return.

  “It takes time. And planning.”

  Again the organisation. Under her fashionable paint and powdered hair lay another mask, one Blaize couldn’t penetrate. That was some indication of her power. Also that she was comfortable and Blaize didn’t like that. He needed to make something clear.

  “Aurelia is married to me. It’s legal and it’s what we both want. You are not taking her.”

  “I am.” She got to her feet, the skirts of her majestic red gown swirling around her before they settled. “Enough. I’m tired of this.” She turned her head and gazed at d’Argento. “You cannot move. You think I couldn’t feel you, skulking around inside me? Remain still.” Utter contempt rang in her voice.

  No. Oh, no. She’d used his skill against him to trap him. Blaize slipped into d’Argento’s mind, looking for the places where his friend had left deliberately weak points. D’Argento sat frozen in his chair. Once Blaize got to him, he could restore him. She’d used the simple trick of blocking him inside his mind, but that wouldn’t keep him prisoner for long. Only if he’d been new, but she didn’t know that.

  “Give it up, Mother.”

  Shock forced him to turn his head. Standing in the open doorway, leaning wearily against the doorjamb, stood Kentmere. His hair flowed down to his shoulders, and he’d dressed simply, in breeches and shirt, giving him a wild, otherworldly appearance.

  The duchess allowed herself a moment of surprise before she straightened. “I’m glad you came down, my son. You look appalling. Come home.”

  The power of her persuasion should have brought her son to his knees. It wasn’t aimed at Blaize but he felt its strength. But Kentmere stood strong.

  D’Argento shook himself free from her hold. Easy now that she was concentrating on someone else. He rose, taking a stance so that the three men formed a triangle with equal sides, a shape of power.

  Kentmere nodded at d’Argento. “I’m obliged to you,” he said. That was all, but it conveyed more than simple gratitude. It stated his allegiance. He was an Olympian and he would join with them.

  He smiled sadly at his mother. “I will come home when you are gone. I
don’t want you to return to the castle. I’ll provide you with a comfortable residence of your choosing, but not that. I have found something to fight for, Mother. I don’t respond to you any longer.”

  “You will.” So determined, so arrogant, she refused to give up.

  Blaize nodded at Kentmere, who gave a terse acknowledgment. They had to trust he could hold his corner. As if shaking out a whip, Blaize uncurled his power, sending it in both directions, to Kentmere and to d’Argento. At the same moment, d’Argento did the same.

  A thin, blue line of light shot between the participants. Relief flooded through Blaize as he felt Kentmere’s lash of power. Sparks, blue and white sprang from the lines, now held taut between all three of them. Nobody, mortal or immortal, could pass that barrier without serious injury or death.

  The duchess glared at the lines with contempt. “Do you think that will hold me?”

  “Long enough for us to kill you, yes,” Blaize said.

  “You know what will happen then.”

  For a brief moment Blaize felt sorry that he hadn’t impregnated Aurelia. If he had, she could have taken charge of the immortal that would be released with the death of the dowager. But he wouldn’t wish that on her. It would hurt her, because, despite everything, Aurelia still loved her mother. For that reason alone, he would do everything he could not to kill her.

  It didn’t matter. Kentmere should not do the deed. He was her son, and sons should never kill their mothers. Blaize didn’t want to, but there was one other here who could do it with a clear conscience. D’Argento. If she was planning to enslave the people of the country he loved, then someone had to stop her.

  He felt her presence before he saw it. Then she appeared in the doorway standing next to her brother. Aurelia wore a loose silk robe, the ends tied firmly around her waist, her hair loose, hastily pushed back behind her shoulders and adorably tousled. She glanced at her brother and smiled, but her face tensed when she saw the line.

  “Don’t move!” Blaize warned her, but Kentmere already had an arm around her shoulders, holding her close, but firmly, so she couldn’t cross the sparkling blue line.

  “What are you doing?”

  Not, apparently, killing this woman. They couldn’t do that with her daughter looking on, at least he could not. But they could still incapacitate her. It would be better to do that, Blaize belatedly recalled, the mist of anger dissipating a little. Then they could keep her imprisoned. Perhaps give her a taste of that hellish maze. That would be sweet.

  He communicated his intent to the others. While he received reluctant consent from d’Argento, Kentmere agreed wholeheartedly. And deep down, in the area he reserved for Aurelia, he soothed her, not trying to send words, but waves of comfort.

  You have to do this, she said sadly.

  He nodded.

  “Damaged goods,” the dowager said coldly. “But with Aurelia’s fortune, we can brush through it. As long as the marriage doesn’t become generally known.”

  Blaize knew better than to remind her of the official records. They’d married in Leith and he was sure she could send someone to the parish in question and have the report expunged. Not that he’d allow that to happen without a fight.

  “She’s married to me. I’ll marry her as many times as I have to.”

  “And I will do the same,” Aurelia said. Only Blaize heard the tears in her voice, and only because he knew her so well. Better than anyone else in the world.

  The line was holding steady. With a flick of his wrist, he extended another, above her head, and almost instantly d’Argento and Kentmere sent lines out to join it. Now they had the pyramid, its apex above the dowager’s head.

  She only laughed. “You think I came here with nothing to protect me?”

  With a wave of her arm, a vision shimmered before them, brief but telling. Lyndhurst, naked but for his breeches, his body scored by dozens of marks, cuts, lashes from whips. He was tied between two pillars, and his head sagged.

  “I have him,” she said. “He’s mine, be sure of that.”

  Damn. The man who had grown up apart from the immortals hadn’t learned what he needed to protect himself from a powerful Titan. With any number of curses, ancient and modern, Blaize tested her vision and saw only truth. No illusion, that. How could they have allowed this to happen? Why hadn’t they kept closer watch on him?

  Because Blaize had let his concentration slip, for the first time in years. Maybe thirty years. That was why. And d’Argento was occupied with Kentmere for the time it took for the dowager to secure Mars.

  “You are keeping him like that in your parlour, one presumes?” he said, keeping his tones to a fashionable drawl. He didn’t carry a quizzing-glass, but he wished he had, so he could level it at her. He was maintaining the lines with one hand. He still had the other free.

  D’Argento had gone still again, but not because of a temporary paralysis. She wouldn’t do that again, now he had the measure of her. He was sending out his senses, trying to locate Lyndhurst.

  “I keep him in the cellar,” she said. “Of which house you are at liberty to try to discover. When I have my daughter back, I will restore him to health and he may marry her.”

  “She’s married to me,” Blaize pointed out patiently. How many times did he have to repeat it?

  She shrugged, showing every evidence of insouciance. “And for that, you must die. Unfortunately, in the public eye as well. Otherwise I’d just do away with you.”

  “And how do you propose to do that? With the mysterious green concoction that you made her drink?” It rankled Blaize that the duchess had forced Aurelia to continue to take the herbs that had kept her in line. While he didn’t think her mother had gone so far as to keep her in thrall, he did believe she had used Aurelia to draw men to her until she found the ones she wanted.

  The duchess gave a sharp, ugly laugh, so unlike her usual society musical tones that Blaize was forced to believe she meant it. Something had amused her. “That was a recipe guaranteed to keep her healthy and beautiful. No magic involved, just a mixture of things she should take regularly. As a child Aurelia took a dislike to all green vegetables. I made sure she got them.”

  Blaize curled his lip. “You expect me to believe that when I know you for a witch?”

  I don’t think she’s the witch. She’s shown no sign of powerful witchcraft. She has the skills of the immortal, but not of a sorceress. That from d’Argento.

  He was right. An enchantress as powerful as the one who’d set a spell on Aurelia would have shown evidence of her power by now, if only with that tingle immortals generally felt in the presence of ancient and powerful magic. Some didn’t believe in it, so rare was it, but Blaize knew better. It existed, and because it was so primitive it was not as predictable or as controllable as the powers immortals usually wielded.

  She’s not a witch, Kentmere said, confirming what they thought. “You’re hardly Circe, are you, Mother?”

  The mention of the powerful sorceress who had kept Odysseus in thrall made the lady smile. Was that it? Was that her identity? Surely a witch that powerful had the means of cloaking her power.

  “No,” she admitted.

  “When I was abroad, I found a mentor. It took a separation of months and a great deal of tuition for me to work out the conundrum,” Kentmere continued. “You’re Themis, aren’t you?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  With an exclamation of fury, the duchess showed her claws. Blue fire flashed from her fingertips, temporarily pushing through the line. Enough to sear a line down Blaize’s arm. Keeping her identity secret had given her an advantage. Now the Olympians could hone their attacks on her, make them more effective.

  The knowledge shot into Blaize’s brain, relayed by d’Argento. Themis, Titan, goddess of order, law and keeping the status quo. Opposed to innovation. Her will is law. She may have foresight. Presides over the oracles at Delphi.

  Blaize let the warmth of the knowledge surge through him. He was her worst e
nemy. The god of disorder, madness, raging insanity, he knew now how he could beat her. And he would. With a finality that would send a message to the other Titans, wherever they were hidden.

  They couldn’t win today, not with a cost that would cripple their cause. However young Lyndhurst was, he was still one of the principal gods and they needed his martial expertise for the coming struggle.

  Abruptly, he dropped his hand, breaking the connection. “I won’t stop looking.”

  Kentmere, his arm around Aurelia, nodded and moved into the room, leaving the path to the door clear. “Leave,” he said.

  D’Argento said nothing, only watched. The duchess walked to the door, her steps measured, almost leisurely, then turned, her skirts swishing about her. “I will give you a day to return my daughter to me. And, my son, I want you back too. I have birthed you both and you owe me that, at least. Come home. If not, after that, Mars dies. And probably more. How do you know how many immortals I have under my control?”

  She was right, damn her.

  But Blaize was already formulating a plan. He would defeat her and now he knew how. Except for one problem.

  After embracing her brother and exclaiming over his recovery, Aurelia went to her room and changed, leaving Blaize and Edmund to resolve their dispute. After all, Blaize had rendered Edmund unconscious.

  Because they were not receiving this evening, she chose an informal sacque gown, one of her favourites, in white silk with little blue forget-me-nots scattered haphazardly over the fabric, giving an impression of charming disarray. It was good to have her own clothes back. At least her mother hadn’t prevented that.

  Not that her mind was even halfway involved with what she would wear. A maid arranged her hair in a simple style, a loose knot with ringlets falling over one shoulder, and she selected her pearl necklace and earrings. Her mother had sent her enough belongings to make herself respectable, but not all of them. A silent message that the dowager was awaiting the return of her daughter. She’d have to wait a long time because Aurelia was never going back.