Page 71 of Rogue's Possession (Covenant of Thorns 2)

“But you’re the one who can answer the riddle. I cannot.”

“Because you think I know his vulnerabilities.”

“As you say, my lady sorceress.”

Darling chirruped and blinked, a slow lazy look.

“I thought you and Rogue weren’t getting along,” I told the cat.

He shook himself, the feline equivalent of a shrug, and sent me a burst of affection. I scratched his back in return and he purred in his low grumbly way. It helped, to have at least these two on my side.

“Do you suppose they’re ready yet?”

Larch’s gaze unfocused a little, as if he looked into the distance. “By the time we get there, yes.”

Darling stretched himself up against my leg, delicately pricking me with hopeful claws. I swooped him up and carried him like a baby while he happily batted at one of the lily earrings.

“What I don’t get is, why wouldshesnatch Rogue if he’s still playing her game? If she wanted him to lose, there are easier ways to foil him.” Had she moved up the timetable, as she’d taunted him with? That seemed like an alteration of the rules.Tick-tock.

I had been kind of talking out loud to myself, but Larch cocked his head thoughtfully.

“Titania would not cause a deal to be broken. She is bound by her rules as surely as we are.”

I stopped in my tracks and Darling bit down on the earring, tugging hard. “Ow. Stop. But you’re right, Larch. She wouldn’t. Maybe can’t. Something else caused Rogue to fail.”

Larch nodded. “So I believe.

“Someone discovered a vulnerability of his and played on it.”

Darling patted my cheek with his paw, showing me an image of Rogue running down the road after me. Me. Was I the chink in his otherwise immaculate Teflon armor? Not pleasant to contemplate. But his various vague and dire warnings could be interpreted that way. Perhaps I’d done something that opened a door to him.

I, myself, could have been the door, since I didn’t remember a damn thing.

Darling squirmed, his message conveyed, and scampered down the hill, tail banner high. The traveling caravan appeared ready to go, indeed, queued up like a many-segmented colorful snake, poised to strike down the road.

Starling waited for me next to a carriage that could have been created by Cinderella’s fairy godmother—a sequined fishbowl for all intents and purposes. Hopefully they’d punched some airholes in it. Darling perched on top of the glass globe, looking immensely pleased with himself, and likely to slide off at any moment. Felicity, bestowed with a great sparkling plume, led a brace of four other horses, prancing in place happily.

“I’m riding in this?”

“Yes! Both of us.” She patted my arm in sympathy. “So you won’t tire yourself out.”

“Starling.” I scrubbed my face with my hands. “I want you to listen to me very carefully. I am not pregnant. I know this for a fact, because it is physically impossible for me to be pregnant since Ihave never had sexual intercourse with Rogue. Or anyone else since I got here, for that matter,” I added, just to be clear.

And—kill me now—she looked indulgent, patting me on the arm again. “Don’t worry about it now. We’re here to take care of you. Just leave everything to us. I put your grimoire in there so you can work in it,” she coaxed.

Because everyone was now waiting on me, and they all seemed so excited about the carriage, I climbed inside. Fortunately the blue velvet bench seats were remarkably soft and cozy. Also, what had appeared to be clear glass were window openings here and there, between the sparkly swirling decorations. Above, Darling peered down at us through the curved roof, eyes bright with superiority. An expression that vanished as the carriage lurch forward and he desperately scrabbled for purchase on the smooth surface, pink jelly-bean toes mooshing against the glass, paws splaying in all directions.

Starling giggled. I snorted. Darling glared at us, but—furry brown belly pressed tight against the carriage and all four legs akimbo—he began a slow, relentless slide down the back. Starling fell to her side, helpless with laughter. I nearly couldn’t catch my breath long enough to make the wish, but I managed to create a pillow affixed to the top and scooted him up to it.

He sank his claws in and lifted whiskers to the crisp blue sky, at last in his rightful place.

Yawning mightily, Starling stretched out on her seat and promptly fell asleep. Taking my cue from her, I turned sideways on mine and, propping my back against the curved rest, opened my grimoire to review and add notes.

I created a new section by wishing in some new pages—way better than having to grab a package at the hobby store and wrestle the blanks into the binding—and contemplated how to categorize these recent phenomena. Blackbird’s memories, mine—they weren’t really lost. It was more as if they’d been interfered with somehow. I wrote down Memory Interference, but frowned at it. I didn’t want to create an immediate bias by assuming some kind of outside agency at work. Memory Inconsistency, then.

I wrote down as many observations as I could recall of the oily rope in Blackbird’s mind and in my own. Then I turned to the Rogue section and recorded every detail possible about our last night together, along with Larch’s speculations about vulnerability. I’d never been much for personal journaling, and I felt my face heat as I remembered how I kissed and touched him. A naked feast just for me. In the bright light of day, the way I’d gladly—no, voraciously—gone down on him and sucked him to violent climax seemed…wow. Okay, it aroused me again just remembering.

Funny how I kind of wanted to hide the page, though I knew perfectly well no one could read writing at all, much less this. Still, I glanced at the peacefully snoozing Starling before I continued.

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