Fire Kin by M.J. Scott Page B

sometimes loathed my father more than I could express.
    â€œCan I get you some refreshment? Tea?”
    Hennin, predictably, refused. Maybe I could send him down to the hospital kitchens before he returned. He might not accept food from me here in my office, where he would feel as though he was on duty with one of the Family he served, but perhaps he would bend enough to eat down there.
    Or maybe he just wanted to be gone. I studied him for a moment. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, more than just the warmth of the day and his ride from Summerdale would explain.
    â€œIs the iron paining you?” I asked.
    Hennin set his teeth. “I’m fine, my lady.”
    I shook my head. “I’m a Master Healer. You’re not fine. Please sit. Take that as an order, if it makes it easier.”
    He glared at me but sank into a chair. I nodded approval. “Good.” I came around to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. He twitched under the touch but didn’t pull away completely. I extended my powers and scanned him quickly. Sure enough, the sense of his own magic was subdued. Drained by the unfamiliar presence of so much iron.
    â€œI can do something to help with that,” I said. “It’s only temporary but it will last until you’re back in Summerdale.”
    I closed my eyes and wove the ward with the speed of familiarity. It wasn’t something I used regularly but often enough. It provided respite for new Fae healers when they first came to St. Giles, let them do their jobs while they adjusted to the City enough to be able to bear the iron with a certain degree of ease. My own tolerance to iron had strengthened over time, but there were parts of the City and the hospital that were harder to be in than others. The hidden wards below the hospital, for instance.
    Hennin’s shoulder relaxed beneath my hand and I drew away, taking a moment to breathe and steady myself. Then I rang for tea. I needed it, even if Hennin was going to refuse to drink with me. That done, I seated myself before reaching for my father’s letter once more.
    The wards yielded to the touch of my hand, recognizing my power and the presence of the Family ring on my finger, the combination working to unlock the protection my father had set.
    I unfolded the paper and steeled myself for the refusal I expected.
    Instead, to my shock and relief, it was an acceptance. Or a summons perhaps. I was to present myself with five companions suitable to represent the humans at the Gate in a day’s time.
    I looked up at Hennin. “Do you know what this says?” I asked, curious as to whether the invitation came from my father or the court. If it was the court, then gossip should have spread by now and Hennin would know about it.
    He shook his head. “No, my lady.”
    That was direct enough. So he didn’t know. Which meant my father was inviting me and the humans on his own recognizance. It made me uneasy as to exactly what he was planning and what good it might do if we got to Summerdale and the court still would not hear us. With the Veiled Queen dead, no one could actually bar us from entering the Veiled World. It was what happened once we were there that was the worrying thing to contemplate.
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    â€œI’m coming with you.” Asharic loomed up beside me as I left the Templar conference room, the humans inside still discussing my news and trying to decide who they would send to accompany me.
    â€œTwo days ago you were doing your best to avoid returning to Summerdale,” I said. “Why do you want to go now?”
    â€œSafety in numbers,” he said with a grin.
    â€œYou’re expecting my father to protect you?” I asked. “Trust me, he’s not a great believer in absence making the heart grow fonder.”
    â€œI was thinking more of Guy and you,” he said.
    â€œWhat makes you think that I’ll protect