Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

queen had continued to talk in my head, but I wasn’t paying attention to what she said.
    â€œWhom do you serve?” she asked aloud, pulling her hand away from my head. Not as though she were interested in the answer.
    â€œ ‘Choose this day whom you will serve,’ ” I murmured. “ ‘But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.’ ” It seemed appropriate to quote Joshua at her.
    â€œWhat?” she asked, startled.
    â€œWhat were you expecting me to answer?” I asked, feeling a little let down. Some of the very old fae react poorly to scripture, but this one didn’t seem to mind—not the scriptures anyway.
    â€œBring her to the hall,” she said, her eyelashes beating her cheekbones with the force of her temper.
    The men picked me up, chair and all, and hauled me back to the hall. I had only vague memories of what had happened to me there at the hands of the witch—my mother once told me that childbirth was like that. All that pain, then nothing. But if my mind had blocked out the worst of it, my body seemed to make up for it. As we got closer and closer, my stomach clenched, and I broke out in a sweat. By the time we made it into the hall, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the men carrying me could smell my fear.
    They brought me right up to the throne before setting me down.
    â€œWhat did you do?” the queen hissed at the witch, who shrank back from her. “What did you do that she resists me?”
    â€œNothing, my queen,” the witch said. “Nothing that would allow her to resist you. She is only half- human. Perhaps that is the problem.”
    The queen released her and stormed back to me. She took a silver knife out of her belt and cut my arm right over the bite Samuel had given me. The bite marks were still fresh- looking, so I hadn’t lost a lot of time.
    She rubbed her fingers in my blood and put them in her mouth. Then she cut herself and dribbled three drops into the open wound on my arm.
    She was going to use old magic to bind us together. This was the stuff the wolves got out to make someone pack.
    I had a sudden panicky thought. If she got me, could she get to the pack through me? Zee had been worried about her enthralling the wolves.
    â€œMy blood to yours,” she said, and it was too late to do anything about what she was doing. “My silver, my magic, our blood makes you mine.” Because it was done.
    A fog rolled over my head.
    I struggled and struggled, but there was nothing to struggle against; it was only fog that seemed to cover everything and muffle my thoughts.

15

    AFTER STRUGGLING AND STRUGGLING, I FOUND MY- self alone, standing on a great barren field of snow. The cold was so great that it froze my nose when I breathed in, but, although I was naked, I wasn’t uncomfortable.
    â€œMercedes,” Bran’s voice was breathless. “Here you are! Finally.”
    I turned all around and couldn’t see him.
    â€œMercedes,” he told me, “I can talk to you because you are part of Adam’s pack and his pack is mine, too. But you need to listen because I can’t hear you. All I can do is show you what I think you need.”
    â€œAll right,” I told him. It felt lonely knowing he couldn’t hear me. Lonely because it wasn’t Adam who’d found me there in the snow. I shivered though I still wasn’t feeling the cold.
    â€œThe biggest weapon in the arsenal of a fairy queen is enthrallment. As a member of a pack, you should be all but immune to that. But yours is a special case, and I am told that no one thought to teach you how the pack magic should work for you. Apparently my son and Adam, who should know better, assumed that it would all be instinctive because that’s how it works for a wolf. When Adam found that it was not the case, he chose to wait so he could find out who had been messing with you—instead of making you safe.”
    â€œThere were complications,” I told him sharply. I didn’t like to hear him being critical of Adam. I’d known what he was doing and approved of the way his mind worked.
    A pause followed, and I had the distinct impression of surprise.
    â€œI’m sorry for offending you,” he said slowly. “That I know you are offended is . . . interesting.” I got the impression of a shrug, and he continued with his message. “You should know that thrall magic is not so different