Fae Lord Bewitched: Real Men of Othercross (Paranormal Fae Romance) (Real Fae of Othercross Book 4)

by Marina Maddix

On the few occasions when he remembered to pay a social call on his cloistered counterpart, she was always eager to be regaled by his antics. What must it have been like to have that kind of freedom? Even if one was still unable to connect with the rest of the world, one might at least see some of it.

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Earlier today,” she chirped. “Three days in a row.”

  He regarded her with a lackluster eye, and she could feel him seeking out the weakness in her.

  “And how are you feeling?”

  “Happier than I have been in decades. Maybe centuries.”

  The level of Alistair’s gaze told her that he knew the cost of Rad’s visits. He didn’t need to say a word.

  “Okay, fine. I’m exhausted. But still happy!”

  “Hmm.”

  Alistair returned his lazy gaze to the troublesome cuticles, leaving Araminta to sit in the truth of it. The conversations with Rad came at a deep cost. As much as she wanted to see him every day, she needed some time to recover. The sheer effort it took to be present for him was deeply taxing.

  The weight of that underpinned any joy she felt. It was the dark side of her own particular moon. However much she reveled in the light, the shadows waited just around the corner.

  “What’s this thing he’s got you working on?” he asked, languidly rescuing her from the darkness. “Something about a feud?”

  “Oh, yes!” At the thought of their little project, Araminta was all smiles again. “There’s a longstanding feud between the Oberon family and the Murphys.”

  “The Murphys?” His eyebrows raised again, with a bit more interest this time. “Careful there, ducky. They’re a troublemaking lot. I don’t suppose you’ve laid eyes on Aquaria Murphy before have you?”

  “Does she come to the library often?”

  Alistair winced. “I shouldn’t think so. It’s hard to imagine that she’s much of a reader. Anyway, she’s got claws a mile long and isn’t too discriminating about who she scratches. Nasty old thing.” He broke into a wicked little grin. “I’ve enjoyed haunting her a few times.”

  “All the family members I’m familiar with have been dead for generations.”

  “They’re the best kind, I’ve found. So much more placid.”

  The people Radagast had been researching seemed far from placid. Worse than that, she could feel the pieces of the puzzle were remarkably close to slipping into place. It was thrilling and disheartening all at once

  “What is it?” Alistair had noticed her silence. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

  Araminta shot her spectral friend a grimace. “I’m thinking about slowing him down.”

  “What?” He fairly glinted with the intrigue of it all. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know yet. As soon as we solve this mystery, Radagast is going to leave. He’ll go back to his clan, and I’ll never see him again.”

  “Radagast,” Alistair hissed under his breath. “What a name.”

  “I hate to admit it, but…I’m tempted to steer him in the wrong direction, just so I can be with him a little longer.”

  “Oh, child, I wouldn’t do that.” Despite his condescension, there was genuine care hidden somewhere in his words. “It might gain you a little bit of time now, but it can only go poorly later. Would you really want your memory of your time with this Blundercast or whatever his name is to be tainted with deception?”

  Her shoulders slumped. She had known it all along but being chastened only made her feel small again.

  “You’re right.”

  “Of course I am.” Drawing himself up, Alistair fussed with his cravat and snapped the crisp collars of his shirt to attention. “Now, as much as I hate to, I must be off. There’s a family settling into a hotel room that need some chains rattled.”

  He pulled a face, and they both knew that the rattling of chains was far beneath him.

  “Thanks for dropping by,” she said with genuine gratitude. “Don’t let it be another sixty years next time.”

  “How could I? With all you have going on? Darling, you’ll see me within the month. I just have to know how your Scattergrass affair goes.”

  “Radagast.” She coughed out a light laugh.

  “That’s what I said. Ta-ta!”

  With a demure wave of his fingers, Alistair was gone. Almost immediately, she missed his company. He was catty, shallow, and not entirely agreeable, but he was funny. Not only that, he was the closest thing she had to a friend before Radagast had exploded into her life.

  In the vacuum the ghost’s company left behind, the stunning fae lord flooded into every crevice of her again. In the dim glow of the moon through the windows, she trembled under the feelings she harbored for him.

  If only she could tell him about the curse. Crack herself open and pour the centuries of loneliness and desperation at his feet. The injustice of her imprisonment, and what it meant to be reduced to a remnant. How easy would it have been to bare herself to Radagast and wait for him to scoop the pieces together again? The two of them could work together to make her whole.

  But it was forbidden. The curse swallowed the truth of itself, and she was left mute on the one subject that cried out to be spoken. She sank into the familiar, cold, stagnant pool of misery again, and wondered if the joy was worth it.

  Only a few hours had passed since she last saw him, but it was the first time in a century or more that she had actually counted the minutes—that she felt as though there was something to miss. Something to look forward to.

  And yet, she knew it would only be a few more days before he disappeared from her musty little world forever. The duties of his clan and the life he led would call him home, and the void he left would take another two centuries to fill.

  Perhaps even more than that.

  Sitting in the dark, she admitted to herself that she might never be able to fill the space his departure would leave in her heart. It wasn’t only the fact that he was the first living creature to see her since she’d been cursed. That would have been a tempting trap to fall into. No, Radagast himself was a dazzling blast of vitality in a world that had lapsed into pale shadows.

  Was it all worth it? Joy was such a precious commodity—a forgotten one really. In its way, desolation had become forgotten as well. Like a jagged stone washed smooth by the current of a river. Yet the happiness she was finding within herself threatened to break that smooth stone into pieces. To reveal its edges again.

  This might have been another part of the curse that hung over her. Just when she had accustomed herself to everything she had to carry, a flash of pure, unbridled hope burst in, and brought her back to day one.

  Chapter Five

  “Look at that!”

  Standing over Radagast’s shoulder, Araminta pointed at a massive book that occupied most of the desk. Her finger traced a scribbled name in the margins, and her lips moved softly as she read it. “His Highness Erait Momonde. I’ve seen that name before.”

  “You’re right,” Radagast muttered, surprised at how sharp-eyed Araminta was.

  When he’d accepted her offer to help, he hadn’t wanted anything more than to enjoy her company, but she’d turned out to be a major asset when it came to his research. She had an eye for details, and an intuition that allowed her to connect dots Rad didn’t even notice. He was one step away from untangling the web of lies and rumors the Murphys and the Oberons had weaved throughout the ages, and he had Araminta to thank for it. Without her, he never would’ve made it so far.

  Most of the evidence they’d gathered over the last week—letters from Libby’s handmaid, an old journal from one of Ewan Murphy’s sons, and countless notes lifted from ancient newspaper clippings—seemed to disprove the theory that Libby Oberon had been raped. In fact, a few eyewitness reports hinted that they had a friendly relationship.

  That was the problem all along, apparently. According to some private correspondence Radagast had unearthed, neither fa
mily had approved of Libby and Ewan’s friendship. In fact, they opposed it. The Murphys saw the Oberons as being a bunch of upstarts and, in turn, the Oberons believed the Murphys to be elitist snobs.

  The only voice that had argued the Murphy and Oberon families should stop the bickering and find a way to make peace had been a certain clergyman named Erait Momonde. He had published an open letter in a fae gazette back when the two families’ rivalry seemed to have reached its zenith, but it didn’t seem like anyone had paid much attention to His Highness’s advice.

  Araminta had noticed his name on a wedding registry—and more than that, the name appeared next to a wedding that had taken place on the same day Libby had supposedly been kidnapped from the Oberon manor.

  “That’s odd,” Radagast whispered, thumbing his way through the massive wedding registry. “It doesn’t seem like the reverend officiated any other weddings aside from this one. And check this out. The groom’s name is Pyramus and the bride’s Thisbe. Those names sound familiar, don’t they? I just can’t seem to place them.”

  “I know why they’re familiar,” Araminta whispered, knitting her eyebrows together. “Libby signed one of her letters as Thisbe once, and I’m pretty sure that Ewan wrote a couple of letters under the name Pyramus as well.”

  She didn’t give enough time for Radagast to react. She just pointed at a stack of printed documents littering the desk. Rad began thumbing through them, not sure what they were looking for until she cried out.

  “That’s it!”

  Rising to his feet so they could read the letter together, he basked in her nearness. Closing his eyes, he breathed in her scent, faint as it was, then finally glanced at the scant words on the paper.

  Tonight, my dearest. Pyramus.

  The handwriting belonged to Ewan Murphy.

  “Holy shit. This meant that—”

  “Libby was never kidnapped,” Araminta finished, turning a bright smile on him. “She escaped from her family and married Ewan of her own free will. That’s why they used these particular names.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Pyramus and Thisbe,” Araminta said. “It’s an old story. Pyramus and Thisbe lived in Babylon, in connected houses, and they were in love. Their parents hated each other, and so they were forbidden to marry. Not that they were going to let that stop them. They whispered their love for each other through a crack in the wall, and eventually they ran away to get married.”

  “How do you know that?” Radagast asked her, surprised by the depth of Araminta’s knowledge. It seemed like she knew a little bit about everything, and Radagast was pretty sure she’d be able to hold her own if she ever met Eldan.

  “Not much to do in a library but read,” she replied, gently shrugging her shoulders. “This solves it, doesn’t it? Ewan never hurt Libby. He was in love with her and she with him.”

  “I can’t quite believe it, but…yes!” Had they really solved the mystery? Yes, against all odds, he had finally solved the Libby Oberon puzzle. “God, Araminta…I don’t even know what to say. I never would’ve been able to do this without you. Thank you!”

  In the span of a heartbeat, he closed the distance between them and moved to sweep her into an embrace. And maybe something more, if she’d let him. He couldn’t exactly explain what made him want her so damn much, but something told him that she felt the same way.

  Smiling wildly, he brought his hands up to lace them around Araminta’s delicate frame, but his hands cut through the air as though there were no one there. He stopped, blinked, and looked at the woman in front of him.

  She was right there.

  Wordlessly, he reached for her shoulder. He did it more slowly this time, but his fingers still passed through her image as if she were merely a hallucination. No, he wasn’t hallucinating. Despite what it looked like, it wasn’t as if he was moving his hands through air. He felt some resistance, like he was moving his fingers through sand.

  Radagast had seen some wild magical shit happen, but he had never seen anything like this. This wasn’t just magically weird—it was straight-up unreal, and he didn’t know how to explain it. The Libby Oberon mystery had pushed him to his limits, but this… This was really messing with his head.

  “Araminta?” he whispered, eyes locked on hers.

  She pressed her lips into a line and averted her gaze, looking down at her shoes as if embarrassed.

  “What’s going on?” He wanted to reach for her, to tuck his fingers under her chin so that she would look into his eyes, but he knew that he couldn’t do that. “I have no idea what’s happening here, but…”

  He trailed off, knowing that actions would do what words couldn’t, and took one more step toward her. Focusing on sensations, he felt that ethereal aura surrounding her and, if he focused on her dress, he could see that the fabric was almost see-through. Except, instead of seeing Araminta’s skin, he saw the mahogany shelves behind her. Araminta was there, but she was also not there.

  It didn’t matter.

  “Look at me,” he whispered and, even if hesitantly, she brought her eyes up.

  He answered her gesture with a nod and a smile, and then he leaned into her. His approach was gentle and maddeningly slow, but he brought his lips down against hers. He only closed his eyes when he felt that imperceptible film of magic which surrounded her, and he kissed her like he had never kissed anyone before.

  Though it felt like no kiss he’d ever had, he sensed her lips moving against his, her tongue—a faint echo of the real thing—left tingles across his own, and something that felt like a whisper of arms snaked around his neck.

  Reacting on instinct, his hands shot to her hips, but the only thing he found was air. Instead, he gripped the shelves behind her, opening his eyes just a bit so that he could be sure Araminta was still there. She was, but he could tell she was starting to fade, the bright whiteness of her dress already dimming out.

  “Araminta,” he said once more, suddenly realizing just how afraid he was. Even after these days they had spent together, he had no idea about who Araminta really was. What if he was about to lose her? Shit, maybe he shouldn’t have kissed her. “What’s going on? You gotta tell me what’s happening here.”

  “It’s complicated,” she murmured, her voice sounding like it came from the other side of a distant ocean. Even though she was right there in front of him, her words sounded like an echo. “I’m sorry, Radagast. I should’ve told you sooner.”

  “Told me what? Araminta, please, you have to—”

  “Come back tomorrow,” she continued. “I’ll tell you everything I can. Right now, I need to rest.”

  She offered him a sad smile, one that made his heart shatter into a million pieces and watched as all color seemed to abandon her. Radagast couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when she disappeared—one second she was there, and the next she was gone—but that didn’t change just how afraid he was.

  In fact, he was terrified.

  Chapter Six

  By the time dawn broke, Araminta was still incredibly weak. As intoxicating as her passionate embrace with Radagast had been, the force of power it took to accomplish left her completely drained. As much as she pined to see him, some dark part of her hoped for a day’s reprieve. Not that she didn’t want to see him, but she wanted to be strong enough for him to see her.

  Sharing that kiss with Rad was more than a dream come true. It was the kind of thing she had long ago stopped dreaming about. To taste that kind of ardor was a revelation. Beyond comprehension.

  Given how frayed she felt, though, she wondered whether it was meant to be merely a fleeting thing. Something to be experienced once, then lost to time. Her heart wanted to argue, but what little remained of her body said otherwise.

  Even before his usual time, Rad came bounding back into the library. It was a hallowed place of such reverential quiet, that the bursting of his energy seemed to set the place alight. The fall of his shoes on the floor came like thunder cracks, and eyes raised from
any number of the dimly lit studying tables.

  The air hummed with the latent shushing itching to break forth. Since he wasn’t speaking, or even humming, there was precious little anyone could do about the loud, frenetic thunking of his shoes on the marble floor.

  Without him seeing her, Araminta drafted behind Rad as he all but sprinted to their little roost. The elation pouring behind him in a thick trail warmed her, even as it stung. He had been privy to her fading away, but she was certain that he had put the memory of it to bed.

  As much as she hoped that he too would want an encore of the previous day’s hot and heavy kisses, she dreaded all that might follow. Even worse, she knew that she lacked the strength to offer it to him. Just keeping up with him was a task.

  At last he arrived at what had become “their” table and was bold enough to call her name quietly into the stacks. Pulling in what resolution she could manage, she drew up in front of him and concentrated all her energy on manifesting for him. Her resources were already depleted, and the effort of it pushed her to the limit.

  “Araminta?”

  The look of deep worry on his face betrayed everything. At best, she had managed to arrive as a faint shadow of what he must have expected. If she wanted to spend any time with him at all, she didn’t dare try for more.

  “Hello, Radagast.” She offered him her best smile, hoping to bleed some of the disappointment from the moment.

  “Don’t tell me you’re still…”

  “I’m afraid so. I wouldn’t change a thing about yesterday, not for the world—but you can see the cost.”

  She raised her arms simply and held her breath for his reply.

  “But… But you won’t be like this forever?”

  He looked so lost that she nearly teared up out of the desire to hold him and chase the fears away.

  “No,” she offered quickly. “But it will take time for me to recover the strength I’d need to do that again. And, Radagast?” Araminta looked full into his startling blue eyes. “I would love to do that again.”