following than any of them,” she said.
Eorla’s father had been king. Donor’s father usurped the throne. When he died, Elven Court rules refused the crown to a woman, and the court passed to Donor. “You’re going to claim the crown? You were denied the throne before,” I said.
“Over a century ago, in another time and place. I think my people have changed enough that they will favor survival over legal niceties.”
“You’ll need support,” I said.
“I’ve already reached out to Bastian,” she said.
Bastian Frye had been Donor’s chief advisor, spy, and assassin. “Strange bedfellows.”
She chuckled. “But very elven.”
“Are you going to make a formal reply to Maeve?”
“Not yet. There are other considerations, which is why I asked to see you. I cannot lead the Consortium unless I am in Germany. I will have to leave Boston,” she said.
I stared at my water bottle. Eorla was the only thing standing in the way of the Guild steamrolling over the Weird. “What about the people who rely on you?”
“They don’t rely on me, Connor. They rely on the idea that someone cares. I’m not going to abandon them,” she said.
I tilted my head. “Who can replace you? Rand?”
A cryptic look came over her though with a touch of evasion. “Rand would not be…. suitable. I have someone else in mind.”
“Who?”
She stared into my eyes. “You.”
I laughed and swigged water from the bottle. “That’s crazy talk.”
She couldn’t be serious. Eorla’s amused expression made me wonder if she was teasing me. “Not at all. You know the people and the city. You know how it works and, more importantly, how it doesn’t. And you know how to work with anyone.”
“A lot of those people think I caused the destruction of their homes,” I said.
She crossed to her desk and arranged some folders. “Not true. Guild and Consortium agents spread those rumors, but the people down here are suspicious of anything they hear from those quarters. You have more allies and supporters than you think, Connor.”
“Eorla, I appreciate what you’re saying, but the fact remains, I have no abilities. How can I lead fey folk with no abilities?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Donor Elfenkonig was an extremely powerful man with many abilities, yet here I stand in opposition to what he stood for. Having abilities didn’t enable him to stop me.”
“That’s different. You could hold your own against him in the power department if you needed to,” I said.
“Connor, you stood in the room when I unmasked Donor’s disguise and revealed that he wasn’t Aldred Core. A physical altercation did not ensue. Donor asked for my cooperation, not my submission.”
“You make a lot of sense, but ruling a court isn’t something I’ve ever wanted. You know I don’t like monarchies,” I said.
She shrugged off the comment. “No one said you have to. Don’t call it a court. Make it a transition to something else. I don’t care what you do with it. I didn’t ask to be here. I serve at the will of these people. You would, too. The point is, the old ways are over. We have to create the new ways. They won’t be handed to us.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you will think about it,” she said.
I laughed. “That I can do. In fact, I doubt I’ll be able to think about anything else for a while.”
“Good. Events are speeding up, but we have some time before a decision needs to be made. Shall I call Bastian in now?” she said.
“He’s here?”
She gave me a sly smile. “Of course. You said you wanted to ask him some questions about these murders. He agreed to wait until we were finished.”
20
Bastian Frye moved with a formal bearing, methodical and deliberate, as if the act of walking into the suite was a practiced art. Despite his reputation as an assassin for the Elven King, I had never been in a physical confrontation with him. It was hard to imagine the frail old man in a fight. Of course, he had spent a lifetime learning shamanic rituals, honing his body in ways known only to the initiate, and as an Alfheim elf, his ability to manipulate essence rivaled that of the most powerful people in the world. He probably didn’t need to lift more than an eyebrow to defeat an opponent.
“You’ve brought war upon us, Mr. Grey,” he said.
“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration, Bastian. How are the funeral preparations coming along?” I asked.
“Exaggeration? I think not. Intelligence reports indicate massive numbers of Celtic warriors moving on Germany,” he said.
“Not that part. The ‘it’s Connor Grey’s fault’ part. Donor brought this on all of us,” I said.
“But you killed him,” he said.
“I’m not going to lie, Bastian. Yeah, I killed him, but in point of fact, I was already dead anyway. It was pure luck I hit him with the spear. I’m not going to shed any tears for Donor,” I said.
“What do you mean you were dead?” he asked.
“He threw me off the damned building. I was falling to my death when I hit him with the spear,” I said.
Bastian relaxed, if going from very stiff to plain stiff was relaxed. “If you were dead, how did you survive?”
“That’s a tale for another time,” I said.
Bastian didn’t participate in conversations. He processed them, one line at a time. His deep eyes, dark wells of iris pinpointed with a rich blue light, stared as if he could read my thoughts. “I shall look forward to hearing it then.”
“I was hoping you could save the Boston P.D. some time and answer a few questions,” I said.
“The Boston Police Department and the Consortium are not on particularly good terms at the moment,” he said.
“All the more reason to earn a little goodwill, don’t you think?” I asked.
“Ask,” he said.
“An elven agent named Alfren was found dead in the Weird last week. Was he one of yours?” I asked.
“At one time. He was no longer in my employ though he did provide occasional information in exchange for funds,” he said.
“He worked for Vize. You had a plant on your own agent?”
“It is no longer a secret between us that I was often in contact with Bergin. Anything I needed to know, he told me,” Bastian said.
“So what information was Alfren providing you that was worth anything?”
“Alfren had connections in Park Square,” he said.
“The Guild? How does a former Consortium agent working for Vize connect to the Guild?” I asked.
“He was quite good, despite his flawed history. Unfortunately, his contact was not as careful,” he said.
“Dead?”
“A fall,” he said.
“The Danann at the power plant?”
“The same,” he said.
