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Falcon slammed a hand on the table. “Exactly my point. And you two—” he pointed thick yellow nails at Rogue and me, “—still owe me assistance in my battles.”
“And I wish to reclaimmysorcerer, as is right and just,” Fafnir proclaimed, sweeping a hand at Walter, who looked ill at the notion but manfully ignored his erstwhile general. “Now that Lady Gwynn has trained him for me, he’ll be even more valuable in the contest.”
“He cannot beat the combined forces of my two,” Falcon sneered.
“Ah, but my wizard calls the dragons his and, once the scepter is returned to him, then—”
“The scepter shall not be returned,” Rogue declared without force but with implacable will.
“And the dragons are mine,” I added.
Falcon preened at Fafnir’s crushed expression.
“Also, as you should well recall, Falcon—” Rogue steepled his fingers, “—we agreed that I would perform all magics, not the Lady Sorceress Gwynn. Now that we have combined our magic, such a separation is no longer possible. Thus the terms are moot and the bargain void.”
Falcon’s turn to gnash his teeth in frustration while I turned an admiring smile on Rogue. He played a deep game indeed, if he’d planned for this that long ago. His face revealed nothing, but I knew on a profound level, he was pleased to have surprised me.
“Then our war comes to nothing,” Fafnir said, looking bleak.
“What exactly were the two factions fighting over?” I asked. “It’s never been clear to me.”
“Victory,” Fafnir grated out.
“To triumph!” Falcon pounded his fist on the table.
They glared at one another.
“It’s what wedo, Lady Gwynn,” Puck said with a giggling lilt, nodding at me so the jingle bells in his ears chimed sweetly, “in lieu of other battles.”
That showed a surprising amount of rational thinking—especially coming from Puck. His playful mien no longer distracted me. Of all of them, he’d always given me the wisest advice. Much like his mythical counterpart, the bringer of mischief, the wise fool who capered through and saw the most clearly. I smiled at him, grateful that he’d given me that wedding eve talking-to.
“Which is why we are here.” Rogue picked up the conversational ball. Gone was the disinterested mien that he normally affected. “Blame me if you will, but you are cornered. Fight Titania you will. We all will. None of us has a choice any longer.”
“Because ofyourgame,” Lady Healer pointed out.
Rogue simply regarded her with a cool stare and she looked away.
“I did not make the game and well you know it. I’ve simply changed the rules. We must assume that Lady Incandescence has thrown in with Titania. If any of you wish to leave and do likewise, you may go. I’ll release you.”
They all seemed shocked by that. Frankly, I was also. Rogue’s confidence could be daunting.
“Good Titania, man!” One of Fafnir’s cabal exclaimed. I recognized his face, though we’d never met before. Titania had been wearing it as a mask for her masquerade ball, blood continuing to drip from the ragged edges. The last I’d seen, it had been gasping on the floor where she’d tossed it aside to attack me. Apparently he’d managed to retrieve it. An image I didn’t care to contemplate for long. “You know what she’d do to us!”
That needed no reply. He’d only confirmed Rogue’s point.
“General Falcon—are all your forces inside the walls?” Rogue asked.
Mollified by the restoration of his title, Falcon sat straighter. “I sent many of the humans home—they’re useless except against other humans—but otherwise, yes.”
“Not my monsters,” Lady Strawberry sulked.
“Or my sailing ships,” said the fae noble I thought of as Navy Man. “We can’t possibly have a decent naval battle here.Unlesswe expand the moat!”
Everyone ignored him.
“And General Fafnir?” Rogue pressed. I had to love him for keeping things from devolving into shades of the Mad Hatter’s tea party.
Fafnir and his cabal exchanged glances, shifting in their chairs.
