Stone Prince

by Emma Alisyn

  “Why would Lavinia have her killed?”

  Tyra bit her lip. “I thought about that. When did your training start?”

  “What training?”

  Her cousin sighed. “Moghrenna. I already guessed who you are, and you didn’t flat out say no.”

  Rhina shrugged. “If I had any kind of training, it would have started soon after my mother died.”

  “Okay. Let’s run with that. Do you think, had she lived, she would have wanted you training?”

  Hell, no. Her mother would have fought tooth and nail to avoid it. Not because it wasn’t an honor. It was an honor for someone else’s child. Her mother wouldn’t have wanted her to know her lifespan would be cut in half due to the dangerous nature of her work. Alexa would have refused to allow Rhina to train. Would Lavinia have had her mother killed for that reason?

  Rhina shook her head. “I’m not important enough. Alexa could still have been used to make a marriage alliance.”

  “No, she’d already refused any alliances. With a half-blood child in tow, what highborn male would take her?”

  She would have been a liability, unwilling to allow her child to be used. If Lavinia thought Rhina’s unique skills were useful enough, then those abilities would factor heavily in future plans, and the Mogrens had been planning this coup for decades.

  “They would have told you Alexa killed herself because of Geza to both ensure your loyalty to them, and your hatred of the Ioveanu,” Tyra said. “If Lavinia knew then what your ultimate purpose would be—a sword against an Ioveanu’s throat . . . .”

  Was Lavinia capable of thinking that far ahead? Of course. Was she capable of killing her own kin? Of course. If Alexa were considered a failure to the family . . .well, success or death.

  “I’ll think about it,” Rhina said, standing abruptly. “I don’t know that it makes a difference.”

  Tyra looked up at her. “Don’t let yourself be used, Rhina. Not for them. Don’t let them manipulate your mind with the poison they’ve force fed you.”

  “I said I’d think about it.” She took a shower, and didn’t speak for the rest of the morning.

  “I need a break,” Geza announced. “Human girl, come with me.”

  She didn’t budge. “My name is Rhina.”

  He shoved the stack of files at her, eyes glinting. “So?”

  She shoved them back, temper sparking. “I’m an employee, not a lapdog. Either speak to me with respect, or do your work, yourself.”

  His head tilted. “You have claws, kitten,” he purred. “I thought you were just a little, brown mouse.”

  Rhina scowled at him. “I don’t have to have claws to demand basic courtesy.” If he knew who she was, he wouldn’t treat her like this. Rhina stopped that thought short. That was the whole point—he didn’t know who she was, and she didn’t want him to.

  “True.” He took a step back and bowed floridly. “Apologies, my Lady. Will you accompany me to my suite? I’d like female company while I work, and you’re the only one here who isn’t in love with me.”

  “What?”

  Geza sighed. “I adore females. They’re pretty, sassy, they smell nice, and they like to be pleasant and nurturing in exchange for a bit of flattery and smiles. It’s exhausting to constantly be around females who are looking at you and wondering how to make you fall in love with them.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me—” she stopped, realizing he could misconstrue her vehemence as an insult.

  He only looked satisfied. “Exactly. Working with you is almost like working with Surah, though she dresses better, and her hair stylist shouldn’t be shot. Does the colorist you use even have eyes?”

  She pulled a chunk of her messily-braided hair around to look. Brown, with streaks of white-blonde. Damn. She’d let the glamour slip a bit again.

  “Come on,” he said, staring at her with those dark, inscrutable eyes. Which was wrong. They should be dark, and mocking, indolent. She didn’t like when he went inscrutable. “You’ll get to see my secret lair, and you don’t have to grant me a sexual favor to do so. Unless you want to. I would never tell a lady no.”

  She snorted, and followed Prince Geza to his infamous suite.

  11

  She’d been there just a few days before, of course. The irony did not fail her. He led her into his study, kicking books and objects out of the way with his feet, wings trailing along the floor. It was a sign he was relaxed, and she would have been flattered if she wasn’t darkly amused. Of all the people he should be relaxed around, it wasn’t her.

  Of course, he had no idea.

  “This is actually a fireplace,” he said, pushing a button in the wall. Screens slid to either side, revealing an inset fireplace, flames roaring to life a moment later. “I’m in a mood, I hope you don’t mind.”

  “You want to work here?”

  He looked around, then went to retrieve a large, fur rug, dropping and spreading it on the floor in front of the fire. He frowned at her. “I told you I wanted female company.”

  She understood exactly what he wanted. Prince Geza was an emotionally-needy male. Thus, all the parties, the multiple relationships, how he refused to let his siblings live their own lives without his interference . . . he needed constant attention, constant emotional energy. He’d be exhausting to a weak woman.

  “Whoever you marry will have to have a lot of energy,” she said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She’s going to have to make you the center of her world.”

  Geza snorted. “There is nothing worse than a clingy female, so I beg your pardon. The female I wed will be a warrior.”

  Staff entered a moment later, bringing a large tray of snacks and three bottles of red wine. There were no labels on the bottles, so she suspected the vintages were either homemade or black market. The Ioveanus were not above smuggled wine.

  They stretched out on the rug in front of the fire, and Rhina regretfully admitted that she must not be entirely normal because the romantic setting moved her not one whit. Of course, she hated Geza’s guts, so that was likely the reason. He was a charming male, and handsome, and his manners weren’t entirely those of a pig. As the ruling Prince, he could have treated her like crap, and no one would say anything. If he wasn’t Geza Ioveanu, she might actually like him. Forget that he’d betrayed their burgeoning friendship and then just a few days ago, taunted her in public with that broadcasted message.

  He handed her a glass of the wine, having uncorked and poured it while she was thinking. She took a sip. “This is good.”

  He was rifling through the files. “Hmm. My family’s personal vintage.”

  Rhina sipped, Geza keeping her topped off with an absentmindedness that proclaimed more than anything that he drank wine like it was water.

  “I’m at the bottom of my stack,” she said. “I only have five suitable candidates.”

  “Three for me,” he said. “Let me see yours.”

  She handed him the files then eyed the tray of snacks, picking up a handful of chocolate-covered nuts. The wine wasn’t sweet, so the chocolate added a nice contrast in flavors.

  “You like the good shit, huh,” she said. “This is real chocolate.”

  “Of course. What do you take me for? I don’t like any of these candidates.”

  “They all match her criteria and her personality profile.”

  He stared down at them. “I don’t like them, not for her. I have an instinct for these things.”

  She stared into her wine glass. “Sure you do.”

  “You doubt me?”

  “Not at all, my Prince.”

  His gaze was keen. “I swear you speak like a gargoyle courtier sometimes.”

  She shrugged. “Misspent youth, I guess. And a degree in comparative cultures.” Which she really did possess. It was one of many. Comparative cultures degrees were useful for ambassadors, and assassins.

  He topped off her glass. “Tell me. Sounds interesting.”
>
  “It’s just a lot of reading and discussing cultural differences. Memorizing body language cues, diplomacy, that kind of thing.”

  “That wasn’t on your resume.”

  “No? Must have been an oversight.”

  “Where did you graduate?”

  “Uh . . . Farthing. In Tacoma. I think.”

  “Very interesting. It doesn’t solve the problem presently. She has her first appointment to review matches in a week, and I have no one suitable to present her with.”

  “Give her the ones we have, let her decide. It’s not like you have to like her choice.”

  “Of course, I have to like her choice. If I wouldn’t wed the male, I wouldn’t expect her to.”

  Rhina snickered. “Unless you like males, too, no one would expect you to want to wed her match.”

  He sniffed. “Females, only. If my virility is in any doubt—”

  “Not at all. I suppose I’m at a bit of a disadvantage since I’ve never had a relationship.”

  “You what?” He appeared aghast. “You can’t mean you’ve never had a lover.”

  “Not one. Way too much work, and very little apparent reward.” Plus, her family controlled her potential fertility very tightly. They didn’t need her loyalty, or her attention divided by an unsanctioned lover and possibly a child.

  “Please tell me you’ve been kissed.” He sounded pained.

  Rhina smiled, more than happy to pain him. “Nope. Not one. Not a kiss, not a fluttering sigh.”

  “Would you like a first kiss?”

  “Excuse me?”

  He blinked at her, innocent. “If you don’t get any ideas, I would be happy to be your first.” His smile was charming. “I enjoy firsts. Going where no male has gone before.”

  “Wow, that’s a little . . . um . . .” she sipped her wine, at a loss for a non-insulting way to call him a pig.

  “Come on,” he crooned. “You know you want to.”

  “Is this like sexual harassment?”

  “If I ever sexually harass you, you won’t have to ask. Which I wouldn’t, because there’s no fun in a trembling, crying, disgusted female. I do not at all get males who enjoy pressing unwanted attentions.”

  “Well, that may be your one redeeming quality. You’re not a sexual predator.” She held up her wine glass and clicked it against his in a toast. “An Ioveanu.” What about her mother?

  “Would you marry any of these?” he asked, indicating her files.

  “I’ve never had to think about that sort of thing. Why do you care so much? If you make a match, that’s great. If you don’t . . . .” She shrugged, finishing her third glass of wine.

  “No skin off my wings?” He smiled grimly, popping a cube of cheese in his mouth as he eyed her. “You didn’t know your father. Did your mother raise you?”

  She nodded.

  “In a way, I envy you. Not because you didn’t know your father, of course. Because you didn’t have to witness him abuse your mother.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “It’s common knowledge,” the Prince added, voice almost bored, “so don’t think I’m revealing my soul to you, or whatever it is females who read too much think.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Females who read too much?” She stared at him, incredulous. “You don’t think females should read?”

  Geza scowled. “Of course not. I’m not talking about educational reading. I’m talking about those . . . books you all read. I read a chapter once, when I was a teenager. Which, now that I think about it, should be required reading for all young males.”

  “Do you mean romance novels?”

  He flicked his fingers in acknowledgement. Rhina sighed. Typical male. “Romance novels are not silly, they are female empowerment,” she informed him. “They tell young girls they have a right to find a man who loves, respects, and brings them pleasure. Not one, but all three.”

  He grinned suggestively. “Does your dream male fulfill all three requirements? What about rich? I thought wealth was a prerequisite.”

  She didn’t dignify that with a response, instead turning the conversation back to his parents. “You were telling me about your parents.” Rhina didn’t bother to hide her curiosity. Any person would be interested.

  He sighed. “Is this where I reveal my secret pain over the tortured relationship of my parents and how it has motivated me to bring true love to other couples to compensate? We’ve run out of wine.”

  “That’s as good a motivation as any, I guess. You’re the Prince. Order more.” There was doubt in her voice.

  He leaned forward. “I also like controlling people. Years from now, I’ll look at all those garlings they produce and know those people owe their lives to me.”

  “That I can believe. You’ve never personally fallen in love? Broken a female’s heart, left her shattered?”

  Geza blinked at the vehemence in her tone. “What fun would that be? A broken female is no use to anyone.”

  “What about Alexa Mogren?” His eyes narrowed, but she pressed on. “I heard on the—”

  “You didn’t hear anything about Alexa Mogren.” He set his wineglass down. “Who have you been talking to?”

  “So, you admit it!”

  His head tilted. “You’re an odd female. You know things you shouldn’t. That makes you either an enemy or a groupie. I don’t know which is worse.”

  She scowled at him. “I am no groupie of yours, Geza Ioveanu.”

  An indolent smile curled his lips. “Malin, then? No? You don’t think I could seduce you?” His eyes raked her lounging figure. He snapped his fingers. “It would be simple.”

  She snorted, staring into her wine. Vaguely, she realized her tongue was far looser than a mere three glasses of wine could explain. “I’m talking too much.”

  “Hmm. This is a special blend of red. Called ‘Truthseer’.”

  Her head jerked up in horror. “You’ve given me Truthseer?”

  “How does a simple, human female know about Truthseer? About Alexa Mogren?”

  “You tell me about her, and I’ll tell you about me.” It was a gamble, and she’d have to make something up quickly to allay suspicion, while intoxicated with this bottle of red doom. Truthseer. An expensive, secretly-crafted vintage of wine. No one knew quite how it was developed, or what Fae mage the Ioveanus bribed for the spell, but any who drank it were known for the sudden honesty of their conversation. Its effects lasted hours. No one drank the stuff except people bragging that they had nothing to hide . . . or females trying to find out if their lovers were cheating.

  “Alexa Mogren was a friend.” Geza rolled onto his stomach, propping his head on one hand as he kicked his feet up like a toddler. He should have looked ridiculous, but with his hair spilling over his shoulders and the mischievous, dark eyes glinting at her . . . he looked anything but ridiculous. He looked like a predator at rest. A sexy predator. “She was at court for a time when I was very young. But Mogrens are Mogrens and Ioveanus are Ioveanus. Besides, she had a child.” He frowned, and pushed to his feet abruptly. “Stay here.”

  Rhina opened her mouth to protest, and his head swiveled towards her, eyes slashing her with such ferocity she froze. She nodded, and he left the room.

  “She asked about Alexa Mogren.”

  Niko didn’t reply for a moment. “Well. Well, well, well. What did this Moghrenna look like?”

  He almost didn’t want to give her description, a little disturbed at his instinct to . . . hoard her. “White-blond hair, almost silver, and Fae eyes.”

  “You think Rhina . . .?”

  “I think Rhina is really Moghrenna Mogren.” And somehow she had managed to tap enough of her Fae blood to learn to use her glamour, as natural to Fae as wings were to gargoyles.

  “Really.” Niko’s voice hardened.

  “I want you to do nothing. I want to bring her in on my own. I owe her mother.”

  “Why?”

  Geza went cold. “She was executed. I’m certain of it, now
. My father made me leave it alone.”

  “Two days.”

  “It will take as long as it takes. I don’t want her killed.” Not with the memory of dark, suspicious eyes with their kernel of secret pain and fury in his mind, looking at him sidelong. Not with the new memory of hazel eyes, suspicious and thoroughly intoxicated, staring at him with what she thought was hidden pain and hatred. A look he’d never wanted to see from that particular female. If the human was Moghrenna, then he knew she’d been used, twisted. Maybe, if allowed, Moghrenna would choose a different path.

  Geza entered the room again. Rhina had spent her time chewing on a chunk of bread, ignoring the rest of the wine the servants brought in and set down. She rifled through the files, looking up as he entered.

  “I think I have a good fit here.”

  The Prince stood over her, looking down. She glanced up at him. “What?”

  “What do you know about Alexa Mogren?” he asked.

  “Just internet gossip.”

  He bent down and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. It took every ounce of control to freeze her instincts to strike. She didn’t like people grabbing her, and especially not him.

  “Alexa and I were friends,” he said. “I wanted to learn more about the Mogrens, how they are able to exert such control over their family members, and I chose her because she seemed the sanest of the lot at court that summer.”

  “Were you lovers?”

  “No. She had a child, and she loved the child’s father.”

  Rhina stiffened. “How'd you know that? Did she talk about the child’s father?”

  He watched her closely, a small smile around his lips, though his eyes remained too serious. “You’re betraying yourself, you know. I know what you are.”

  “What? Highness—”

  Geza’s hand wrapped around the back of her neck, and he lowered his head, lips brushing hers. “The charade is up.”

  Her mind blanked for a bare second, due to the wine, before revving up to run a multitude of possibilities through her head.

  “I see you thinking,” he murmured. “An innocent woman wouldn’t be thinking.”