Page 61 of Rogue's Possession (Covenant of Thorns 2)

Chapter 12

In Which I IndulgeMyself

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The laws of entropy hold that the universe proceeds toward greater randomness—or “shit falls apart” as my physics prof wouldsay.

~Big Book of Fairyland, “IncidentalNotes”

Recovering myself, Iwithdrew from Blackbird’s mind and rubbed my hands together. Her bright black eyes opened, sharp with suspicion. She wondered what all I’d seen—and if there were things she herself did not know. Her mind had clearly been messed with, but suggesting that to her might plant seeds that could lead to mental instability.

If you couldn’t trust your own thoughts, what was left?

“Well then, missy.” She lapsed into familiar address in her snapping concern. “Did you find out all my deep, dark secrets?”

She’d meant it to be light, but the jest fell on a somber room. I paced away, to put a bit of distance between me and her anxious thoughts. Rogue sprawled on a pretty settee, all indolent disinterest, except for the bright sparks in his indigo eyes. He could have piggybacked along, without me knowing. Seen much of what I’d seen. Starling perched on the edge of a fancy scrolled chair, the thick paintbrush swing of her hair looking dull. She didn’t look at her mother, but watched me.

“Well?” She demanded.

“I have an idea of where Fergus has gone, yes. And the trail he’s following.”

Blackbird frowned at me. “How is that possible when I don’t know?”

My gaze fell on the magic cocktail cart and I glanced at Blackbird for permission, then went to help myself. It seemed to be an ordinary tea cart, but had been a reward to Fergus for “the usual heroics,” Blackbird had told me on my previous visit. It never ran out of alcohol, always had just what you wanted, with enough glasses for everyone. Fergus had called himself an Irish cliché and that he’d chosen this sort of reward just confirmed it. I felt sure I’d like him. If I ever found him.

“The way the brain works—at least the human brain and I’m working on the assumption that fae brains are more or less the same—is that the lower areas of the brain collect much more information than gets relayed to the upper areas, where thinking occurs.”

I poured myself some brandy—surprised that it was exactly what I wanted. A bottle of antifreeze-green liquor sat front and center, next to a very tall, thin, cylindrical glass. I raised an eyebrow at Rogue. “Is this for you?”

“Yes. Lovely.”

It smelled of vanilla and apples and gasoline fumes. I handed him a glass, not in the least tempted to try it, and continued.

“It’s like—harvesting all of the apples, but you keep the best ones for certain purposes.” This might not be the best analogy, since it wasn’t clear to me what onedidwith a poisonous crop, but Blackbird nodded. “If you thought about every little thing your senses reported, you’d go crazy trying to keep track of it all. Plus you people have at least one, possibly several more avenues of input, being able to detect thoughts, emotions and…whatever it is that tells you all what time things start.”

Starling snickered and I wrinkled my nose at her, glad to see her less worried now.

“So, you’re saying that my senses recorded things about Fergus when he visited that I never thought about—and you could see them and draw conclusions?” Blackbird’s brow furrowed. “What if you’re wrong? It doesn’t sound very reliable.”

I warmed the glass in my hands, still unsure what to say. Rogue gazed at me, expression bland. Didn’t fool me for a second. But he was letting me run my own show.

I sat next to him on the settee and he moved over to give me room, so I sat in the curl of his body. It comforted me and I no longer cared to examine why.

“Lady Blackbird…” I hesitated. Sipped the brandy to stall.

“Just out with it. I’m a big girl.”

True. I would want to know.

“He flat out told you. You had several conversations about where he’d been, what he’d discovered and where he planned to go next.”

Her face went to ice. “Why don’t I remember that? Surely if we had a conversation, I would have had to think about such things.”

I nodded. Rogue stroked my hair.

“So something made me forget.”

“Someone, I think.”

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