by Tasha Black
“Humor me,” Dorian said. “Observe them first, my way, then decide.”
Tristan shrugged.
In truth, he had no reason not to let this human spend her coin on his garments. Anything to get him away from his brother.
“Take him to the Gap, by the fountain,” Dorian advised Tabitha. “There’s a squire there called Marcus who will equip him most handsomely.”
“I’m not pulling garments out of some ditch,” Tristan said.
“Oh, it is not an actual gap,” Dorian laughed. “That is the name of the merchant. And look at the pockets. These humans have clever ideas of where to put them. If you purchase cargo pants you will have even more pockets. But Sara preferred these more snug-fitting breeches.”
Dorian admired the pockets in his own trousers, Sara smiling over him like a proud mother.
“This place has made you soft and silly,” Tristan declared. “More so than usual, at any rate. I will help you recapture the creatures you recklessly tried to domesticate. But when that task is complete, I will return to our realm.”
Sara looked up anxiously at that.
Tristan wondered why she should care if he left. He was not about to offer his services as a nanny for their half-mortal spawn, if that’s what she was hoping for.
“Let’s go get those clothes,” Tabitha said briskly.
She placed the palm of her hand gently against the back of his arm.
Twin sensations rocked him to the core.
The first was horror that she had touched him. One didn’t touch a king without an invitation.
The second was slower to land on him but stronger, oh so much stronger.
Pleasure bloomed in him like an entire field of poppies blossoming at once, intoxicating him with their scent and color.
And something unlocked in his chest, making him feel dizzy and desperate, like an inexperienced princeling.
It couldn’t be.
After all he’d chided his brother, he refused to allow it.
He would not accept a mortal as his queen.
3
Tabitha
Tabitha glanced over at Tristan as they walked together through the mall.
On Dorian’s advice, they had visited The Gap and sure enough, a teenager named Marcus very enthusiastically helped the King of Light find some clothing that suited him surprisingly well.
Tristan was now clad in a white Oxford shirt with an off-white denim jacket and a pair of dark jeans he had deemed acceptable.
She hated to admit it, but he looked incredible. Possibly even hotter than before.
They had decided to walk around in the mall while they waited to hear from Sara about what was going on with the house.
It had sounded like a good plan, to walk and get to know each other a little. But it wasn’t working out that way. She wasn’t getting to know him at all.
She had resigned herself to the fact that he’d be making snarky remarks about everything they saw and smirking at her, like he had back at the mansion.
Instead, the King of Light was silent as a tomb.
And he hadn’t met her eyes once.
Despite that, she was still having a good time. Everyone they passed seemed to brighten as soon as they got within a dozen feet of him.
And Tabitha was getting her share of very jealous looks from the women they saw.
It was going as well as could have been expected. But she hoped Sara would call soon. This wasn’t exactly the adventure she’d thought she was in for.
Suddenly, Tristan left her side and veered into the center of the mall.
She watched in shock as he sat on the edge of the fountain and dipped a big hand in to get a drink.
“Stop,” she yelled, flinging herself at him.
He managed to catch her before she could launch them both into the water.
“What in God’s name, mortal?” he spluttered, trapping her in his strong arms.
And then his eyes met hers again.
Tabitha felt something like agony as his gaze locked on her.
A rush of memories flooded her mind, as if he had grabbed her hand and dragged her along through her every moment of happiness and sorrow.
There was the nest she’d made under the dining room table as a child for reading her beloved illustrated fairy tale books. There was her father shaking his head when she’d tried to sneak in after curfew, breaking her heart with his quiet disapproval. There was Sara, sitting with her after a bad breakup and making her laugh so hard that a perfectly good chardonnay almost exploded out of her nose.
She had heard of people having their lives flash before them, but never thought it was something that could actually happen.
Was this what dying was like? Was she dying?
Tristan’s expression had softened, his dark eyes hazy now.
“Woman,” he murmured, leaning closer to her.
Tabitha suddenly recovered her senses and scrambled out of his arms, stumbling across the marble floor of the mall.
“Why did you stop me?” he demanded.
Because I don’t want you to kiss me, you don’t even like me…
“That water isn’t for drinking,” she said, pretending to misunderstand.
She smoothed down her skirt, sure that if she looked at him again she would lose her resolve. Her heart was still beating so fast she was afraid she was about to take flight.
“Let’s get you a real drink,” she suggested, heading for the pretzel shop that was within view without waiting for him to respond.
She sensed him following, as if there were an invisible leash between them.
“How may I help you?” the girl behind the counter asked Tabitha, while looking hungrily at Tristan.
Tabitha resisted the urge to collar her. “Just a Coke, please.”
The woman poured out the drink, staring at Tristan the whole time.
Tabitha tapped her phone to the keypad to pay, and then turned to hand him the beverage.
“What is this?” he asked disdainfully.
“It’s a soda,” she told him. “A sweet beverage.”
He frowned and observed the straw.
“Put it in your mouth and suck,” she advised.
He smirked and she felt blood rush to her cheeks.
But then he did as she instructed.
His eyebrows went straight up.
He took another long swallow.
“Good, right?” she couldn’t help asking.
Tabitha tried to eat healthy, but she found the occasional soda irresistible. She was glad to know that appreciation for it wasn’t reserved for her own… species? Race?
She knew that even though he might look like a human, Tristan was something altogether different. She wondered just how different.
“How is this nectar made?” Tristan asked. “Will she give me the recipe for my cook?”
Tabitha glanced back at the girl in the pretzel shop, trying to imagine what would happen if he went back and asked.
The girl was leaning on her elbows, chin in her hands watching Tristan. She brightened when she saw him turn back.
“She doesn’t know the recipe,” Tabitha said quickly.
“She doesn’t?” Tristan asked. “Well, the chef then, I’d be glad to compensate him for his trouble.”
Tabitha wondered vaguely for a moment about what the recipe for Coca-Cola might be worth.
“This beverage is made by a giant corporation far away from here,” she said. “The recipe is a trade secret, but the drink itself can be bought in any shop.”
The king frowned, but he continued to walk with her instead of running back to the pretzel lady - a small victory.
Tabitha walked along with him, trying to see the world through his eyes. She couldn’t really do it justice because she didn’t know what his world was like. But she was pretty sure it wasn’t full of electric lights and TV screens, or piped-in mall music.
All things considered, he was doing well, except for the fountain incident.<
br />
And the fact that when he looked in her eyes, he made her feel like her soul was turning inside out.
4
Tabitha
Tabitha tried to keep her eyes on the road.
She and Tristan were headed back to Rosethorn Valley to meet Sara and Dorian for dinner, and to discuss all Sara had learned.
Tristan sat beside Tabitha on the passenger side, quiet as ever, fiddling with the electronic window controls.
He pushed the button to make it go down, then up again, and chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Tabitha asked.
“This mortal attempt at magic is charming,” he observed. “Abracadabra.”
He waved his hand in an over-the-top flourish and pushed the button. The window went down again.
“Yes, yes, the button is fun, but I have real magic,” Tabitha told him.
“Very funny, human,” he scoffed.
“Abracadabra,” she said, surreptitiously slipping her left hand to the driver-side controls and sending his window back up.
His eyebrows shot up and for a moment he looked very impressed.
“There are controls on my side for the whole car,” she admitted.
He surprised her by throwing his head back and laughing. “Excellent jest, mortal,” he allowed.
She smiled back and concentrated on the road.
Why was he so distracting?
And why was she so anxious to please him?
His appreciation of her silly joke made her feel like she’d just won an Oscar.
“Want some cotton candy?” he offered, opening up his Tinkerbell backpack and pulling out a handful of the fluffy stuff.
“Uh, I’m good,” she said.
He was very fond of sweets. And his new backpack. They had passed it in the window of the Disney store, and he had insisted they go in to get it.
Tristan was convinced the proprietors of the store were paying tribute to his kind, and he was delighted to acknowledge them with his patronage.
Their customer service was so smooth that she was pretty sure his delight hadn’t been dampened even when they didn’t bow or curtsy.
“Don’t eat too much of that stuff,” she warned him. “You’re going to ruin your dinner.”
Truthfully, though, she wasn’t sure that was possible. His appetite seemed to be boundless. But there was no point worrying about it now - they had arrived.
Tabitha pulled into the small parking lot in front of Le Sucre. The little café was Sara’s favorite place in the world. It was also pretty much the only place to eat in Rosethorn Valley proper.
It was easy enough to drive or bike over to Tarker’s Hollow, but Tabitha and Sara had a fondness for their own little home town.
“This is your tavern?” Tristan asked, gazing dubiously at the café.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Tabitha said. “But they don’t serve alcohol, so don’t get too excited.”
They got out of the car and headed inside.
“Get back, Tabby-cat, livin’ in the city ain’t where it’s at,” the man behind the counter belted out in greeting.
“Hey Carl,” Tabitha laughed.
“Who’s your friend?” Carl asked.
“Oh, that’s Tristan,” she replied.
“Great to meet you, man, I’m Carl,” Carl said.
Tristan inclined his head slightly.
Carl grinned. “What can I get you guys?”
Tabitha ordered some sandwiches and drinks, enough for Sara and Dorian as well, and they went to sit down and wait for their meal.
The people in the café were very animated. A table full of moms began to giggle as Tristan pulled out his chair.
Tabitha glanced over. They didn’t seem to be laughing at anything in particular. They were just… happy.
Sara and Dorian came in and Carl sang them a greeting and then pointed them over to Tabitha and Tristan’s table.
“Hey guys,” Sara said, smiling.
Dorian pulled out a chair for her, and she patted his arm before sitting.
Tristan rolled his eyes.
“Good news, I take it?” Tabitha asked.
“Uh, actually, no,” Sara said. “Kind of the opposite. The listing agent got wind that the Historical Society was up in arms about the sale. He arranged to lock the place down. He says it’s to prevent vandalism or retaliation, but for sure it’s to prevent anyone collecting evidence that the house is historic.”
“That’s terrible,” Tabitha replied.
“Unfortunately for him, I already made a video tour of the place for some clients when it first went on the market,” Sara smiled. “We have about thirty minutes of footage of the interior and grounds. Hopefully, that will be enough to work with.”
“Wow, bested by his competitor’s marketing strategy,” Tabitha said, shaking her head.
“Honestly, I’m sure he doesn’t really want to see the place torn down,” Sara confided. “But he works for the trust that owns the place. He had to do what they ask.”
“Do we know who’s in charge of the trust?” Tabitha asked.
Sara shook her head.
“I tried,” she said. “It looks like it leads back to some corporation registered in the city. I can’t trace the trail from there, but I’ll keep looking.”
“So what’s the plan?” Tristan asked.
Before anyone could answer, Carl appeared with a tray of beverages.
“Here you go, guys,” he said with a big smile.
Sara waited while he laid out all the drinks on the table. When he headed back to the kitchen, she leaned in.
“I’ve been thinking about it all day and I think the best bet is to go to Helen Thayer again for more advice,” Sara said.
Helen Thayer was the head of the Tarker’s Hollow Historical Society, a bigger organization than the one in Rosethorn Valley. They often shared resources. Helen had helped them get started with the paperwork to get the old house protected by having it recognized as historically significant.
“Maybe she can help us figure out how to fast track our appeal to the borough,” Tabitha agreed.
“What are you talking about?” Tristan asked, looking puzzled.
Tabitha didn’t blame him. She was a native to this world, and the whole process was confusing to her at times.
“Someone is trying to buy the house for a big construction project,” Tabitha explained. “We’re trying to arrange things so that they’re not allowed to knock it down. We hope that if they can’t get rid of it to build something new, they won’t want it anymore.”
“Won’t someone else just buy it?” Tristan asked.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Sara said, looking frustrated.
“First we need to ask the government to designate the house as historic, so it will be protected,” Tabitha said.
“So this woman, Helen, is your queen?” Tristan asked.
“No, she’s someone who knows a person in our local government,” Tabitha said.
“So she is some sort of magister with access to the queen,” Tristan said. “Very clever to get on her good side. Go on.”
“We don’t have a queen,” Tabitha explained.
“Who is in charge of your realm?” Tristan asked, looking scandalized.
“We vote and several people make decisions on behalf of all of us,” Sara said.
“Who votes?” Tristan wanted to know.
“Everyone,” Sara said. “That’s how a democracy works.”
“That’s nonsense,” Tristan declared.
“He has a point,” Dorian said. “What if the average person isn’t educated enough to select the right leaders?”
Sara and Tabitha exchanged a knowing look.
“It’s worked, mostly, for several hundred years,” Tabitha told him.
“Wow, several hundred years,” Tristan said sarcastically, raising one eyebrow. “I have breeches older than that.”
“Look, we have to work with what we have,” Tabitha sai
d curtly. “Complaining about it doesn’t help.”
Tristan shrugged.
“My apologies,” Dorian said gently. “We must learn to accommodate the traditions of our new realm.”
Tabitha wondered again how it was that Dorian was so convinced he and Sara were the King and Queen of Darkness. Things just didn’t work that way here.
But his quiet confidence was contagious.
She smiled at her friend’s boyfriend and looked to Sara.
“So after dinner we’ll go see Helen?”
“It seems like as good a time as any,” she replied.
“I’ll pop outside and give her a call then,” Tabitha said.
When she rose and turned to step outside, she noticed the rest of the diners.
Donna Lee from the Barrel Grocery was sitting with her husband, James. James was normally a bit of a grump, but he was smiling tenderly at his wife and tucking a bit of hair behind her ear.
The siblings at the table behind them were politely sharing a game on a single cell phone, arms around each other like they were old war buddies.
The moms were still giggling and passing around a big plate of French fries. Even the babies lolled calmly in their arms, letting them chat.
Everyone seemed so happy.
Say what you would about his manners, the King of Light was certainly casting a spell on this little town.
Tabitha wondered how long she could resist it herself.
5
Tristan
Tristan looked around the sweeping entry hall of the women’s friend, Helen Thayer, approvingly. He admired the wainscoting and the family portraits.
Perhaps this realm’s odd form of self-governing was a success after all, if the result was a home like this for a woman who wasn’t even a royal.
“Welcome,” Helen said in a deep, lovely voice.
Helen herself was as handsome as her home. Like the house, she was older, but well-maintained and nicely decorated.
“The pleasure is ours, madam,” Tristan told her sincerely. “Your home is most hospitable.”
“Thank you,” Helen replied. “It has been in my family for generations.”
