Lionheart Read online

  What she really wanted to do was take a detour to the cafeteria and eat a large steak for dinner, but that would have to wait.

  Now that she had the time to turn her attention to Dragos’s summons, she was growing intrigued.

  The last she had heard, Dragos and his mate Pia had been recuperating at home with their newborn son Niall while their eldest son Liam was home visiting from college.

  Something had lured Dragos back to the city, at least briefly, and whatever it was had to be compelling enough to get him to interrupt his personal family time.

  If Dragos had wanted to meet with Kathryn personally, he was just as likely to show up at her office at the hospital or direct her to his. If it involved a matter internal to the Wyr demesne, the meeting venue would most likely have been one of the conference rooms on the top two stories of the tower.

  Being summoned to the meeting hall… That meant outsiders were involved somehow. The meeting hall was where the Cuelebres’ annual Masque of the Gods was held. It was a massive space suitable for public occasions, with tall windows, the high ceilings decorated with crown molding and the marble floors gleaming and polished.

  It also had protection spells woven into the reinforcing steel beams, the walls, the ceiling and floor in case anything untoward were to happen—and with the Elder Races involved, something untoward almost always happened.

  Kathryn hadn’t taken the time to change, so when she had shapeshifted back into her human form she still wore her standard surgery fare—blue scrubs, a white long-sleeved thermal shirt underneath, and tennis shoes, and she had confined her straight, fine brown hair in a no-nonsense ponytail. Though her scrubs had been fresh when she’d donned them earlier, now they were crumpled, but in any case, scrubs weren’t exactly suitable attire for the meeting hall.

  With an internal shrug, she set speculation aside and headed down to the hall, which was located just above the ground-floor shops and restaurants and just below the law offices of the Wyr demesne.

  This time she took the elevator, and when she stepped out she saw two sentinels, Bayne and Quentin, standing guard at the meeting hall’s large, ornately carved double doors.

  Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice would have said during her adventure in Wonderland.

  Approaching, she said, “Hey, guys.”

  Quentin gave her a genial nod. He was a handsome devil and quite insane, as he had mated with the harpy Aryal and appeared to be quite content with the result of his life choices. Despite his undeniable sex appeal, nobody, at least that Kathryn knew of, was tempted to try to coax Quentin into cheating.

  Bayne’s handsome looks were much rougher. His Wyr form was a gryphon the size of an SUV, and his human form seemed not that much smaller.

  The corners of his gray eyes crinkled as he looked at her. “Hey, Kathryn.”

  Oh, she had a soft spot for Bayne. She had a very soft spot for him. They had dated off and on in a casual way, and part of her was sorry that they hadn’t managed to generate between them whatever it was that catapulted the Wyr into mating.

  Maybe they were both too dedicated to their jobs?

  Whatever the reason, their relationship was enough that she felt entirely comfortable stopping beside him and switching to telepathy. Any clues about what’s going on before I walk in there?

  His smile deepened. Not my place, babe. All I gotta say is, buckle up.

  Well, a girl had to try. She was tall for a woman, but not unusually so. The top of her head came to his chin, and she smiled up at him.

  Let’s grab a bite to eat afterward if you’ve got time.

  I’d like that. She touched his arm. I have to check on a patient this evening, but other than that, I’m free.

  Good deal. He switched back to verbal speech. “Ready to go inside?”

  “I guess so.” She gave the closed doors a leery glance.

  Quentin opened one of the doors and held it for her.

  The tension in the meeting hall struck like a blow as soon as she took her first step inside, and it wasn’t just emotional tension. Power prickled through the air from magics raised but not unleashed.

  Oooo-kay then. Squaring her shoulders, she strode toward the group that had congregated in the middle of the expansive floor. As she approached, she took in details.

  There were three clusters, each one standing far enough away from the others to set itself apart.

  The first cluster was a party of two, stationed squarely between the other groups. One of them was Dragos who stood with his arms crossed as he surveyed the others. He was large and lethal, with midnight black hair, bronze features, and gold eyes.

  The Wyr gryphon Rune stood beside him. Kathryn hesitated, looking between the two males. Rune was almost as tall as Dragos but not nearly as broad. His golden hair and handsome features were a familiar sight, but at the same time also a strange one.

  For centuries, Rune had acted as Dragos’s First sentinel, and he was a significant force to be reckoned with in his own right… but he and Dragos had argued while Rune had been in the middle of mating with the Vampyre elder Carling Severan. The strain of that argument had broken the relationship.

  Since that time, the men had gradually been repairing it, and when Carling had been kidnapped along with Dragos’s mate Pia, they had been thrown into working together. Apparently the crisis had eradicated any strain that had lingered between them.

  Kathryn smiled. It was good to see them together again and acting as a team, for however long that might last.

  Her gaze traveled to the second cluster. It was also a party of two. A handsome dark-haired man stood beside a woman. Their scents revealed immediately that they were both lycanthropes, and as soon as she laid eyes on them, Kathryn knew who they were.

  The infamous sorcerer Morgan le Fae was in attendance along with his companion, popular musician Sidonie Martel. Kathryn had heard of the pair, but she hadn’t met them yet. The grapevine in the Wyr demesne was lively and thriving, so she already knew Dragos had offered asylum to Morgan and a select band of lycanthropes that had immigrated with him.

  In other circumstances, her gaze might have been tempted to linger on the pair, but the open hostility in the third cluster of people pulled at her attention.

  The third group was also the largest. Four individuals stood in postures of leashed aggression, their expressions tight. One was a mixed-Fae female who was spotted like a cheetah, with russet hair streaked with white, and a strong, lean body.

  The mixed-Fae woman stared at Morgan and his companion with undisguised hatred. A powerfully built mixed-Fae male stood beside her, while another male with menacing, intense good looks stood by a woman whom Kathryn recognized.

  Immediately, she threw aside any further examination of the scene.

  “Sophie!” she exclaimed, in equal parts surprise and delight.

  Sophie Ross was a mostly human witch with long, curly black hair, pale gray-blue eyes, and freckled skin. Earlier that year, Kathryn had met Sophie in LA and offered her the quixotic stipulations set out by Kathryn’s late father, the Earl of Weston, in his will.

  Sophie had been given the opportunity to stay for ninety days at one of Kathryn’s historical family holdings in the UK. If, during Sophie’s stay, she was able to break into the magic puzzle box of a house that the Shaw family had owned for many generations, she would inherit the property and an annual stipend that went along with it.

  Sophie had not only managed to break into the house. She had also fallen in love with a prominent member of the Dark Court and gotten embroiled in the centuries-long struggle between Oberon’s people and the Light Court.

  If Sophie was here, that meant the dark, brooding male standing so protectively beside her must be Nikolas Sevigny, one of Oberon’s senior knights. And that meant their companions were probably also from the Dark Court…

  No wonder the tension in the hall was so high. For many centuries, Morgan le Fae had acted as an agent on behalf of Isabeau, Queen of the Light Court�
�and the Light Court and the Dark Court were mortal enemies.

  Then in recent months, news ran like wildfire through the Elder Races: Morgan had not been working for the Light Fae Queen of his own free will. He had been enslaved by a geas.

  That could possibly be how Morgan and various members of Oberon’s Court could stand together under the same roof without immediately breaking into battle… but Kathryn could see the strain was vibrating through all of them. Even Sophie’s bright smile of greeting was brief. They would have to catch up in private another time.

  Now that Kathryn’s sweep of the hall was complete, she focused her attention on Dragos again as she strode forward. Telepathically she said to him, Surely you all haven’t been standing here for almost four hours while I finished surgery?

  The Wyr Lord didn’t appear to appreciate her small spark of humor. His gold gaze flashed with irritation. I sent them to opposite parts of the building to wait it out. They’ve only been back in the hall for a few minutes. We’ve got to get this meeting over with before somebody snaps.

  Aloud, he said to the russet-haired female, “This is Dr. Kathryn Shaw, as I promised. Kathryn, this is Annwyn Mathonwy, King Oberon’s cousin and general of the Lyonesse armed forces. Her escorts are Gawain Blackwater, Nikolas Sevigny, and Sophie Ross.” He swiveled on one booted heel and indicated the other cluster. “And over here, we have Morgan le Fae and his fiancée, Sidonie Martel. I’ve summoned you all here at Annwyn’s request.”

  “If I may,” Morgan murmured. “My last name is Garanhir. I have no desire to be connected to the Fae in any way whatsoever.”

  “Of course,” Dragos told him. “My apologies.”

  Oh… dear. With a sinking heart, Kathryn watched as Annwyn prowled toward her. Nobody wore any visible weapons, but Annwyn was a weapon all on her own. She moved like danger personified, in one racy, effortless flow.

  “Dr. Shaw,” Annwyn said shortly.

  “General,” Kathryn replied, taking the hand she was offered and shaking it. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance in person.”

  “When I approached you in the summer to ask for a consultation on my cousin’s condition, you turned me down,” Annwyn told her. “I’m here to ask you again, in person. Oberon remains in a deeply unconscious state. Meanwhile his Power continues to rage unchecked. Without his will to control it, it’s damaging our city and land, causing floods and forcing evacuations. We need to break through to him somehow, or we may end up with no livable homeland left. Our physicians and mages have had no luck in either healing him or in halting what’s happening. All they can confirm is that his affliction is magical in nature.” Swiveling to face Morgan, her voice chilled as she said, “And that led me to ask for you.”

  Morgan had put his hands in his pockets. He looked more relaxed than the raised magics snapping in the air might otherwise indicate. When he spoke, his voice was deep and pleasant. “If you intend to confirm whether I had anything to do with Oberon’s present condition, the answer is yes. I did.”

  Annwyn hissed, and across the room, both Gawain and Nikolas grabbed for their waists. It was an instinctive move, Kathryn thought, as they reached for weapons they hadn’t been allowed to wear into the hall.

  “Ease up, gentlemen,” Rune said in an aside to them. “Remember, this is a parley that you asked for, not a battlefield.”

  “For what it’s worth,” Morgan added, “I had no choice—I acted on Isabeau’s command, and I deeply regret what happened. If you’ll allow, I’ll do what I can to help.”

  “Do you expect your apology can wipe out hundreds of years of armed conflict or bring back the dead you killed?” Nikolas bit out. “Do you think I’m sorry helps their families cope with their losses?”

  “No, of course not,” Morgan said quietly.

  “We’ll never let you set foot on our land, much less risk your getting close to the King again. How do we know there really was a geas on you—or that it is truly broken? There’s no trust for you anywhere in Lyonesse, and no safety either.”

  “Then I will have to do what I can to make amends from here.” Morgan turned to face Annwyn and Kathryn. “I’m at your disposal. Please call on me for anything you need.”

  Kathryn held up her hands. “Hold on a minute. This conversation is moving much too fast.” She looked at Annwyn. “When you asked me to consult on Oberon’s condition, I told you no, and the reasons for that haven’t changed. The time slippage between Earth and Lyonesse is too extreme. If I spent a few weeks in Lyonesse, it would mean taking months away from my practice and my duties here in the Wyr demesne—plus those few weeks would be no guarantee of anything. It would take that long just to get the opportunity to assess his condition for myself. Healing him could possibly take much longer, and in the end, I might not be able to do anything for him anyway.”

  Annwyn’s lean jaw tightened as she listened. When she spoke, it was with a measured discipline piloted by an iron will. “That is why I wanted to talk with you in person. We understand what a substantial commitment this would take on your part, and we’re willing to discuss any terms of compensation that would help alleviate the challenges associated with this assignment.”

  “Any terms of compensation,” Dragos murmured. His eyelids dropped, hiding the expression in that calculating gold gaze while he rubbed his jaw with the back of one thumb.

  Kathryn glared at him. She said telepathically, I blame you for this mess.

  Sure, go ahead.

  His tone was so clearly indifferent her exasperation deepened. Dragos, I can’t go. You have me on retainer. I also have my rotation at the hospital. I can’t just drop those things because someone is stubborn enough to ask twice. Unfortunately, there are people all over the world who need healing, and I can’t help everybody. No doctor can.

  Still rubbing his jaw, he raised sleek black eyebrows and tilted his head first one way, then the other. Maybe it was in acknowledgment to what she said. Maybe he was weighing some internal issue in his head. She had no clue, and no time to query it, because Annwyn was speaking again, her tone quiet and urgent.

  “Dr. Shaw, I understand you have your life here, and it is busy, complicated, and important.” Sharp green eyes speared her. “But this is a matter of truly immense consequence for an entire people. It’s not just about my cousin’s life, although that’s important too—and it isn’t just about Lyonesse. Our home is in danger. You’re talking about an entire demesne that may be displaced and become refugees if we don’t fix this. This is threatening to become an international crisis.”

  Kathryn made the mistake of staring into Annwyn’s fierce gaze, and she found herself trapped. How could one man’s magical Power endanger an entire land and people? Thoughtfully, she glanced at Dragos, then at Morgan. Those two males—they held enough Power. They could cause that kind of damage.

  Annwyn paused, giving her time to think, then murmured, “We have researched doctors. You are the best at what you do.”

  Kathryn’s lips tightened. Every surgeon had her fair share of ego, but that was laying it on a bit too thick. “I am one of the best. Just one. There are others you could ask.”

  “No one with your unique combination of sensitivities and skills,” the other woman insisted.

  What did Annwyn mean by that? Frowning, Kathryn opened her mouth to ask, but Dragos spoke first. “How goes the war against Isabeau?”

  Kathryn pursed her lips. Why had the dragon chosen to ask that now, of all times? Where had his calculating, wily mind gone in his mental deliberations?

  Morgan rubbed his face and looked disgusted. Clearly he would rather be anywhere else than in the middle of a discussion about Isabeau. Annwyn’s attention shifted, and she watched the sorcerer closely.

  Nikolas was the one who chose to answer. “Isabeau has had major setbacks. From all reports, Morgan wounded her severely when he broke free of her control. He also sent a large portion of the Light Court society into disarray when he destroyed her summer palace and killed Mod
red. She’s disappeared, and we haven’t yet been able to locate her, but we feel it is only a matter of time, especially if we can rouse Oberon from his comatose state.”

  “I see,” Dragos replied. Everyone in the hall paused, waiting for him to make a point, or say something further, but he remained silent.

  He was maddening. Truly, he was.

  For a moment Kathryn fantasized about putting her hands around his neck and squeezing. She knew she couldn’t really hurt him, nor did she want to. But she did oh so mightily want to elicit a look of consternation from him in retaliation for all the times he had disconcerted her.

  Then, as Annwyn swung around to face Kathryn again, Dragos said, “Isabeau is reputed to have quite a library of books on magic, or so I’ve heard.” He looked at Morgan. “Did you ever see it?”

  “No,” Morgan said drily. “She does have an extensive library, but she would never trust me enough to let me near it.”

  “Give me a moment to consult with my physician, and kindly don’t kill each other while we’re at it.” Striding over to Kathryn, Dragos held out a hand, silently urging her to walk with him.

  She obliged and followed him to the other side of the hall. During the course of the small journey, realization dawned. She said telepathically, You want Isabeau’s library, don’t you?

  The sidelong look he gave her gleamed. Of course I do. If and when the Dark Court does defeat Isabeau, we can’t have her library out there waiting to fall into the wrong hands, can we? It needs to fall into my hands.

  She bit back a smile. Naturally.

  He cocked an eyebrow. Naturally. So, I have just one question to ask—are you interested in doing this? Because if you are, I will back that decision, continue to pay you your retainer while you are gone, and negotiate with the Dark Court for the right to send a team after the library once they have finished dealing with Isabeau. If your answer is still no, there’s no need to discuss this any further.

  She paused, narrowing her eyes at him. That’s a fair question, she said slowly. Before, I didn’t allow myself to consider it very seriously.