“You—”
“Thierry.” Shaye threw up a hand as he twisted to address the man. “This meeting is for the benefit of Faery. Not a pardon plea, arguments of denial, or dwelling on the past that can’t be changed. We have a serious threat that must be handled. Rogue High Fae with the intention of usurping a king is naught to brush aside. ’Tis the priority. Our personal feelings must be set aside.”
Thierry gave his hand a sharp shake, dispersing the magic and tossing back the remaining whiskey in his tumbler. He slammed the glass on the small table beside him, shoved himself from the chair, and stormed across the room to the door. The force of the door slamming shut behind him sent a tremor through the floor.
Shaye lowered his glass to his own table, cast a shaded glance to Horano and Bryce, then turned back to Thaddeus and Cael.
“You propose we launch an ambush on this secret hideaway,” Shaye concluded.
“I propose I remove the source of the movement and drop them at Dagda’s doorstep.”
“You’ve not healed entirely. The curse laced within the spell Cecir performed can’t be reversed by magical remedies, if the teas haven’t worked thus far. You are at a disadvantage in your weakened state.”
“I’m still far stronger than Grison. Should I die within those caverns, one less person to worry about. ’Twould be reason for Thierry to celebrate.” Shaye tipped his chin in warning. “I speak no lies. Mark my words, Shaye, if I fall at Grison’s hand, I’ll take him with me.”
“Hey, Thad, any chance we can try to devise a plan that takes care of Grison and Cecir and keeps you around a little longer? This whole martyr mindset is fucking with my head,” Cael muttered.
Thaddeus reached over to his brother and clapped his shoulder with a small grin. “I’ll never be considered a martyr. Comes time you learn to accept my fate. There are no options. The least I can do is rid the realms of treasonous vermin without others having to sully their hands.”
“I’m holding back the urge to punch you in the face again.”
He sighed when grief cut across Cael’s face. There was naught more to say. His brother held onto false hope Thaddeus refused to entertain. ’Twould do naught for Cael in the end.
Settling back, he perched his elbow on the chair’s arm and rested his chin on his knuckles. “Mayhap ’twould be a better conversation to hold alone. My plan doesn’t involve anyone here except for myself, and the connection you hold with Dagda and his Council. ’Twill keep your association with me over these last few days and your family safe from persecution.”
Shaye nodded once. “Very well.” To Horano and Bryce, he said, “I’ll meet with you later. Horano, could you speak with Thierry?”
“Aye,” Horano agreed. He cast Thaddeus a lingering glance, one Thaddeus quickly deciphered to hold a tentative wonder behind cautionary distance. Bryce followed behind Horano, barely sparing Thaddeus a moment of his attention.
“Cael.”
Cael shook his head at Shaye. “No. This is my brother’s death we’re discussing here. I’ve earned a place at this table.”
Shaye looked to Thaddeus.
“You can stay. Don’t try to change my mind in anything,” Thaddeus warned, cooling his tone enough that Cael glowered at him before agreeing behind a groan. “We have an understanding.”
“Care to divulge your thoughts?” Shaye asked. The Fae had shifted closer to the edge of his chair, bracing his elbows on his knees. His mercurial eyes darkened. “And what you need of me with the Council.”
“I hold a personal vendetta against Grison. One I wish to entertain at the expense of his life. He sent men to murder myanamcara. That shall not go unpunished.”
“His death shall be delivered by Dagda. ’Tis his due as King.”
Thaddeus peeled back his lips in a dark smile. “He shall have the pleasure of delivering me to my death. Why should he tarnish his hands on a spineless traitor?”
He mirrored Shaye, folding his hands around his glass. “There’s no doubt in my mind Dagda is aware of Grison and Cecir’s movement. Little evades the King, or the many ears he has within these realms. He bides his time, waiting for the right moment to strike. Dagda is a true genius when it comes to strategy. I don’t doubt for a moment he knows I live. Alas, had he known where Grison and Cecir reside, he’d have already brought them back to Court to stand trial. I’ll make this as clean and easy as possible for everyone.
“I came to your home for Cael. We had an altercation. The women were innocent bystanders. They fell victim to an attack by Grison’s men. They needed protection. You took them in. I was injured and you were able to subdue me.” He held up one cuffed wrist. “I offered to lead you to Grison. You take that information back to Dagda and do as you will. The conclusion?” The smile dropped, sincerity softening his expression. “Grison is captured and I can be at peace knowing Rori, my brother, and his girlfriend are safe when I can no longer protect them myself. That you and your family are spared any and all repercussions from selflessly opening your home to me. There will be no association with me coming of my own accord.”
Shaye simply stared at him, unblinking. The damn man didn’t as much as move a muscle, nor did he reveal a single thought.
Beside him, Cael shifted, his unease bringing a series of pricks to Thaddeus’s nape. The electric strength it took for hisbrother to bite back a protest rode the heavy currents in the air.
“Youbloodybastard.” Shaye scowled, straightening up and relinquishing his glass on a table. His gaze lit with a fierce inner glow. “You danced around every fucking potential lie or fallacy with that riddled narrative.”
“’Twas you who told Rori about the gift of a gilded tongue.” Thaddeus chuckled, a mirthless sound. The weight of a spoken reality took a seat on his shoulders. A universal clock began the countdown to his end. “Shaye, ’tis the safest plan that will take care of Grison, appease Dagda, and keep you and your family’s involvement innocent enough. ’Tis my way of thanking you for everything you’ve done for us.”
Regret rose deep inside him, a sickening pressure that coiled around his stomach and echoed inside his head.
