Iron and Magic (The Iron Covenant, #1)

by Ilona Andrews

She would be back. He had her. Vanessa was a born flunky. She feared Elara but she also felt some contempt for his future bride, or she wouldn’t have climbed into his bed to test her leash. Elara must’ve been kind to her. That was a mistake. He’d seen Vanessa’s type enough over the years to recognize it instantly. Her kind of people understood strength and overt shows of power. They loudly proclaimed their support for the overzealous cops, local tyrants, and anyone willing to show brute strength. Vanessa respected authority that made her fear. As long as he terrified her, she would obey him and try to please, but she could never be trusted. If Elara scared her enough, Vanessa would spill his secrets. If she ever got a taste of real power, she would be petty and cruel.

A year ago, if he’d chosen a wedding ring, it would’ve been a work of art shining with diamonds, steeped in magic, and costing a fortune. This one couldn’t be worth more than three grand, but the metal was white like her hair and something about the pure fire of aquamarines and diamonds reminded him of her. It showed some thought, which women valued. An olive branch. They hated each other’s guts, but there was no reason they couldn’t coexist, at least until the threat passed. Hugh had no desire to battle to the death with her over every little thing. And Elara would fight to the bitter end. Although if she insisted on fighting with him half-dressed again, he was reasonably sure he could tolerate it for a couple of minutes. She wasn’t the worst-looking woman in the castle, and, for a brief moment, he’d enjoyed the show.

He repeated the words, infusing them with the same sincerity that let him convince people again and again to trust him despite their best judgement.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss.” Hugh stepped toward her. “Try to make this look good.” “I’ll do my best not to vomit in your mouth.” Is that so? Okay. He wrapped his hand around the back of her head, feeling the silky strands of her hair slip through his fingers, leaned forward, and kissed her. She gasped a little into his mouth, and he kissed her the way he would kiss a woman he was trying to seduce, enticing, promising, claiming her. She tasted fresh and sweet. What do you know? He had expected poison and ash. People cheered. Elara dug her fingernails into his arm. He nipped her lip on the way out and let her go. She looked like she would claw him bloody.

Elara finally saw the crowd around them, dead silent, her people horrified, the Iron Dogs impassive. Skolnik stared, his face completely bloodless. The other mercenary shook like a leaf, clamped tight by d’Ambray’s people. “Let’s do the nose next,” d’Ambray said. “Hugh,” she called. He halted. “Yes, darling?” “Please stop.”

Hugh glanced at the disfigured stump that used to be a man. “My wife wants me to stop. We’ll have to cut this short.”

“Hugh,” she asked again, hating the begging note in her voice. “My wife is softhearted,” Hugh said. “That’s why I love her. You came here to murder my beautiful kind wife and our people. Families. Children.” The mercenary made a small strangled noise. The Dog returned with handcuffs and a plastic bag. “Let him go,” Hugh ordered.

we’ll set his house on fire. We’ll hang him from the nearest tree by his arms and then we’ll leave. He’ll hang there staring at the ashes of his house and begging for help, and the people of his town will pass by him as if he were invisible because they’ll know that if anyone helps him, we’ll return. Did you get all that?” The mercenary nodded. “Good man. Off with you.” The mercenary didn’t move. “Go on.” Hugh waved him on. “You’re losing daylight.” The mercenary spun and ran for the gates. “Bury the garbage off somewhere,” Hugh said, nodding at the corpse. “And clean the lawn. Fire, salt, the usual.” He turned to Skolnik. “Senator? You had a bit of business?” Skolnik opened his mouth. “Go.” “Sorry?” Hugh tilted his head. “I have to go. Now.” Skolnik started through the crowd. People parted to let him pass. He strode to the gates at a near run. Hugh watched him until he disappeared. His face turned hard. “I don’t believe Senator Skolnik will be visiting us in the future. Alright, show’s over. We’ve got a truck full of metal to unload. Let’s go, people. Every hour we don’t work is another hour without a moat.”

“I’m not leaving,” Vanessa said. “You leave. You’re interrupting.” “I don’t have time for this,” Elara said. “After I’m done, you can come back and entertain the Preceptor all you want. But right now, I need you to go.” Vanessa swung to him. “Tell her I can stay.” “I already told you to leave,” he said. Vanessa pushed from the wall. “I’m staying.” Playing for keeps. “You’re pissed off, because he doesn’t want you,” Vanessa said. And now she decided to dig a hole. “He wants a woman,” Vanessa said. “Not an iceberg.”

God, sex right now would be amazing. He would throw her on the bed and she would scream and kick and lash him with her magic. It would be fucking hot. “I hate you,” she ground out. “Right back at you, darling.” Hugh kissed the air. Her face jerked. An ethereal growl rolled through the room, an echo of a distant snarl. Elara spun and within her he almost saw something else, hidden within silvery translucent veils of magic. She swept out of the room. The door slammed behind her, shaking the heavy wooden doorway.

She looked into his blue eyes. There was something else there, in the eyes. A bone-deep weariness as if something gnawed on him, and no matter what happened, life hadn’t fully reached him. She’d seen that same look in him when he carved the mercenary apart. There was no anger, no satisfaction. Just methodical precision. He’d decided it had to be done, so he did it.

The Iron Dogs streamed into the barracks. Hugh stood still and stared at the crest. Elara halted next to him. He didn’t say anything. She leaned forward to get a look at his face. A smug smile curved her lips. It touched off something inside him, something new he couldn’t quite grapple with. “What are you thinking about?” she asked. “I’m picturing cutting your head off with these scissors.” Elara laughed and walked out of the barracks.

It had been a week since their last fight. She’d been conveniently busy. Hugh had a feeling she was avoiding him. The fun question was, did she do it because she didn’t want to fight or did she do it because she looked at him a half a second too long when he stood near naked in front of her that time in the bedroom?

Sam, in his new Iron Dog uniform, rode directly behind her. He trailed Hugh like a lost puppy who finally found someone

to love and she had no doubt everything he said would be related to her husband word for word.

Daniels had felt like that, a little witchy, but mostly her magic felt like boiling blood. Elara was ice. The void yawned at him. Thinking of Daniels always put him on the edge of the chasm. If he lingered too long on her or her father, the void would swallow him again.

That same annoying feeling that flooded him when he’d looked at her bloody wedding dress came over him. He wanted to fix it, just to make it go away.

Ugh. Elara tried to sink some sarcasm into that inner ‘ugh’ but couldn’t even fool herself. Hugh was worried. She never seen him worried before. Hugh always had things in hand and the grim look in his eyes was setting her on edge. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but he looked like a king whose kingdom was on the brink of an invasion. And she was his queen.

What the hell did this Curran do to you? Killed your master, stole your girl, burned down your castle? What?” Hugh leaned back, his eyes blazing. Oooh, she touched a nerve. Direct hit. She turned to Stoyan. “Let me guess, it was the girl.” “And the castle,” Felix said quietly.

“He’ll come around,” Elara said. “He’s under a lot of pressure, because of that palisade. He’s trying to figure out how to keep us safe from an enemy he doesn’t understand and it’s eating at him.” All three of them looked at her. “It’s eating at me too,” she said.

It was so strange, Elara thought. By all rights, Hugh d’Ambray was a despicable human being, but for some reason dogs instantly liked him. Horses too. Bucky was practically overcome with joy every morning when Hugh came to brush him and pick his hooves. She supposed some women liked him too.

You were everything to him. He committed all those atrocities for you and you stripped him of your love, the thing he cared about most.’ ‘Hugh outlived his usefulness. His life had been a series of uncomplicated tasks and eventually he became his work.’” A simpleton. That’s how he saw me. And she understood.

“Yes, I do. The last time we met, he tortured me,” Ascanio said. He what? Could this get any worse? “You’re still alive,” Hugh said. “Clearly my heart wasn’t in it.” He raised the bucket and poured water over his head.

The bouda unhinged his jaws. “Motherrrrfuckrr,” Ascanio snarled. Most shapeshifters couldn’t speak in warrior form. Their jaws didn’t fit together correctly. Hugh was right before. It was better to kill the kid now and avoid complications. “You used us as bait!” “Shut up,” Hugh told him. “You’re still breathing.” “How did you know?” “I knew because I’ve been a warlord longer than you’ve been alive.” Hugh nodded at a fresh detachment of Dogs riding up to them. “This is your escort to the ley line.” “You could’ve told us!” “You wouldn’t have believed me. Tell Shrapshire I have no problem with him when you get home.” Ascanio towered over him.

She wove her way around the table, came up behind Hugh, and draped herself over him, making sure to mash her breasts against his shoulder. “Hi.” Hugh glanced up at her and grinned. It was the kind of grin that would make a professional escort blush. She leaned closer and brushed a kiss on his mouth. His lips were hot and dry. His hand reached into her hair. She pulled away slightly. “Do you think I can borrow you for a few minutes?” He caught a strand of her hair between his fingers. “I think we can work something out.” She smiled at Rufus and the guardsmen. “Excuse us, gentlemen.” Hugh winked at Rufus and let her lead him out of the hall by hand. Behind them the Red Guard leader chuckled. “Newlyweds.” Elara drew him into the hallway. As soon as they were out of sight, he spun her around. “Who died?” “Dying. Redhill was attacked.” Hugh’s eyes turned dark. “The scale mail pricks?”

His dark blue eyes grew warm and inviting. He was thinking about sex and watched her like she was naked. It was distracting as hell and he knew it, which was exactly why he was doing it.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a second and looked down, to the source of all life below. “Please give me strength to not kill this man. Please.” “Why don’t you try?” Hugh offered. An inviting heat lit his eyes. “It might be fun.” Oh, it would be fun. He looked so good in the light, every line of his torso strong, every muscle defined. She liked it all, his crazy blue eyes, the stubble on his square jaw, his broad shoulders, his chest, his flat stomach… She liked his size, the arrogant way he sprawled in her chair, the power in his body, but even more, the power in his eyes. Everything about him said strength and she needed strength tonight. She craved it, craved him, being wrapped in him. Elara remembered the way he looked at her in the dream, with an almost feral need.

When he’d heard the child scream, he had imagined the worst. If someone had asked him this morning what was the worst that could happen, he would’ve had to think about it. Now he knew. The worst would be Elara dying. The fights, the compromises, the maneuvering, pissing her off until she turned purple in the face and forgot to keep a hold on her magic, so it leaked from her eyes, all of it took up so much of his time. It was fun. If she was no longer here, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Would he leave? Would he stay? This new life, it was just his. Hugh didn’t owe it to anyone. He was building it himself, brick by brick, one shovel of cement at a time, the same way he had built that damn moat. He was building his own castle, and for better or worse, the harpy wormed her way into his world and became its tower. When he’d thought she might be dead, fear had scraped him raw. For a moment he felt the piercing icy pain of what must’ve been panic. But she’d survived.

Elara’s eyes snapped open. She saw Hugh’s wide back disappear through the doorway. He had reached out and touched her. It was such a light touch, hesitant, almost tender, as if he’d been reassuring himself she was alright. Hugh d’Ambray cared if she lived or died. He’d given himself away. It was a fatal mistake. There was so much she could do with it. Now she just had to decide how to use it. What did she want from Hugh d’Ambray? Now there was a question.

“I get him,” he said. “This is a great place. Defensible, well-supplied, and isolated. No law enforcement to get in the way. No troublesome politics. Nobody tells him what to do. His men are fed and housed. He’s got everything a man could want: a castle, of which he’s lord and master, an army, and a beautiful wife. But what do you get out of it?”

“I know him. I know the way he holds himself. The engineer came and got him at dawn.” Rook had dutifully reported it to her. “They finally got their Roman concrete to set. Does this look to you like a man set on conquering or does it look like a man obsessed with fortifying the castle for his people?” Rufus didn’t answer. Below Hugh straightened and spoke to his engineer. Next to him a much smaller figure crawled onto the concrete, straightened, and hopped up and down. Cedric jumped next to her and flopped on his side.

“Who is that?” Rufus asked. “Deidre. He rescued her, and now she follows him.” She’d run to find him the first chance she got. Hugh picked Deidre up, carried her to the wall of the moat, and lifted her above his head. A woman in the Iron Dog uniform leaned in from above, grabbed the little girl’s hands, and pulled her up out of the moat. Hugh followed. He headed to the castle gates, and Deidre followed, Cedric trailing them. “You’re right,” Elara said, “he is up to his neck in death. He’s had all the conquering a man could want and then some. All he wants now is to stay here, live in peace, and wash some of that blood off.” “I hope you’re right. For all of our sakes.”

“The pleasure is all ours, Commander,” Elara told him and smiled as if Rufus and she were bosom buddies. Hugh briefly considered pulling Rufus off his horse and dumping him on the ground on his ass. It was an odd urge. He pondered where it came from.

Deidre sat on the stone floor in the hallway, her back to the wall, her arms locked around her knees. She looked up at him. “I want a bow.” Elara crouched by her. “What about your aunt and uncle?” Deidre shook her head. “I don’t want to go with them. I want to stay here.” “But they are your family.” “I don’t know them. I want to stay here. It’s safe here. Can you make them let me stay?” “We will ask.” Elara sighed. “But they are not here now, so let’s worry about this later.”

Lamar leaned next to Hugh. “Have you gotten anywhere with the Remaining?” Hugh asked him quietly. “Nope. Nobody is talking.” Lamar shrugged his wide shoulders. “Everything is great, everyone is friendly and welcoming. The minute we try to ask any leading questions, they clam up.” He shifted on his feet. “You ever get a feeling we stumbled into a cult? Because I do.” “As long as they keep us fed and clothed, I can deal with a cult.”

He’d made a blood ward and used a blood weapon. How? The purge hadn’t failed. He couldn’t feel Roland. He shouldn’t have been able to do it, but he did. And he could do it again.

Sex with Hugh d’Ambray. She should’ve never done it, because now she wanted more. He was the last person she should’ve given that much power over her. And he was holding her now. Being caged in his arms, stretched out next to him felt too good.

Nez was given a choice: to abandon necromancy and continue learning or to leave before his sickness could spread. He left. Since that point, he goes after every shaman, medicine person, and hand trembler who crosses his path. He hunts them down and kills them. Doesn’t matter what Tribe.” “Why? Is he trying to punish the Nations?”

She was only a few feet away, walking to her bedroom. The sheets where she’d lain, curled up against him, still held the warmth of her body. He missed her the moment the door closed behind her. His mind conjured up her face, her scent, the way her skin glided against his. The ache rose in him. He wanted her back. He would get her back. But first, he had to make sure they survived.

“You promised me you would tell me what was in the barrels, Preceptor. Now you’re sneaking off with them.” “I told you I’d show you if you played your cards right. You should’ve tried harder last night, sweetheart. With more enthusiasm.” Oh you jackass. “If you’d impressed me with what you offered, I would’ve tried harder. But a woman can only do so much with mediocre equipment.” He grinned at her.

Hugh shook his head. “I had a crazy thought.” “By all means, do share it.” “What if I’m dead and this is purgatory, and you’re my punishment?” “I doubt it,” she told him. “Why?” “Because if I’m your punishment, you’re mine. The Christian god is the god of forgiveness. He is too kind to do this, even to us.” He laughed again.

Johanna knocked on the table. They looked at her. “Seriously?” Stoyan held up his fist, and made a downward motion, imitating a nodding head. He was signing, “Yes.” He did it in a hesitant fashion, the way those who have just started learning ASL sometimes second-guessed themselves. Johanna grinned at him.

Hugh fixed Savannah with his stare. “So, when you say don’t worry about the tunnels, I need you to be very sure.” “I’ll take care of it,” Elara said. “Okay,” Hugh said. She opened her mouth to argue and realized he didn’t say anything else. “Then that’s settled.”

“Do you know why Hugh burned Hayville? Because you couldn’t do it. My husband is better than you.” “You’re a stupid whore.”

“There goes the mask of civility. Roland had only two Warlords, but you are the twenty-third Legatus of the Golden Legion. Do you know why? It’s because Hugh is beloved by his soldiers, while you are reviled by the Masters of the Dead. Every man under his command would die for him, while the people who serve you can’t wait to stick a knife in your back.” “I’ll make sure it takes you weeks to die.” “Hugh is a better general, a better fighter, and a better man. You’re second best. You will always be second best. You’re replaceable. One day one of your helpers will kill you and take your place, and Roland won’t blink an eye, while Hugh is one of a kind. Oh and his dick is bigger than yours.” A disconnect signal cut off the call. Lamar clapped and bowed.

Okay. First things first. He would win this battle and then he would figure out what the hell she was and what he had gotten himself and his people into.

“You’re a thing of old magic now.” Elara bared her teeth. “But this is my castle. There is room for only one ancient monster here. And you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

Hugh grinned. “You’re my witness,” he said to Dugas. “She owes me one.” “Tell her yourself,” the druid said. Hugh turned. Elara was standing on the steps. In his head, she took the three steps that separated them and kissed him. But she stayed where she was and then she smiled, her whole face lighting up. “Thank you.” Worth it. “Did you see me free the elephant?” he asked. “I saw.” He noticed blood caked on her arms. “They will heal. I won too,” she said. “I’m afraid Bale might never be the same.” Hugh saw Bale behind her. The berserker looked white as a sheet. “He’s resilient,” Hugh said. “He’ll get over it.”

She couldn’t go with him. She was their best defense against the mrogs. “No.” “Elara, this is about survival. Either I kill him, or he will kill us.” “No,” she told him. “This is what I do,” he said. “This is why you married me.” “Hugh, don’t go out there.” She grabbed his hands. “Please, don’t go.”

He mounted Bucky. The huge stallion bared his teeth. Hugh raised his sword and drew it over his left wrist. The blood coated the blade and snapped solid. A blood sword. Roland made blood weapons. She never realized Hugh could. Something scraped the door. Mrog shrieks echoed through the room, muffled by the wood.