Four Kings (The Rothhaven Trilogy Book 2)

by C. J. Pinard

  Richard and Emily immediately took a knee, their heads bowed.

  Mariselle remained standing. “Zackary,” she breathed.

  “As you were, y’all,” he replied, staring at Mariselle as he came forward.

  “Will you be requiring two steeds today?” Richard asked, staring at the blond king.

  He shook his head. “Not necessary, Rich.”

  Biting back a smile at the casual manner in which he’d addressed the stable-hand, Mariselle put her hands behind her back and watched as Richard skulked back into the stables.

  “Are you two familiar?” Mariselle asked as she followed Zackary into the stables.

  He chuckled, deep and booming. “No, we’ve only just met yesterday.”

  The smell of hay, horse dung, and straw filled her nose. But as she drew closer to Zackary, his manly scent also swirled into her nostrils. She resisted the urge to put her face into his back and drink him in. With her arms behind her, she watched as he inspected each and every horse within its stall. He stopped when he came to a horse reddish in color. Its head was bobbing back and forth, as if it wished to be released from its confines. Zackary looked down at the crudely painted sign on the bottom half of the Dutch door it was imprisoned behind. She saw “Spitfire” written there. Zackary petted its head gently and spoke soothing words to it.

  “You want to run, don’t you, girl?”

  How did he know it was a girl?

  “You ready to take us on a ride? Are you?” he continued.

  It was then Mariselle noticed the name was written in dark pink paint, where the other horses’ names were written in dark blue, if they were boys.

  As the hulk of a man continued to pet the horse’s head, Mariselle stared at the tender way he spoke to the animal.

  Then, when she thought he would call out to a stable-hand to saddle up the horse, he turned and looked at her. “I’ve always had a weakness for redheads.”

  Mariselle swallowed hard and plastered a smile to her face. “Is that so?”

  He nodded. “It is. Ever since I was a young lad, roaming free in my parents’ castle. You know what they say about middle children, don’t you, Mariselle?”

  Her heartbeat sped up at the look of mischief in the handsome king’s wild, hazel eyes. She shook her head. “I don’t. I am an only child.”

  “Well,” he said, leaving the stall and heading toward her. Looming over her like some kind of giant tree, he looked down into her pale, upturned face and grinned. “We are the most mischievous. We seek attention, and therefore, we do anything to gain it. Do you think that’s true, M?”

  Mariselle stopped breathing. His imposing frame and body heat were making her weak in the knees. That being said, she thought maybe he was trying to intimidate her. She loved it, but wasn’t going to be rendered weak by it. So she replied, “I think that you will do anything to capture the attention of women. Is that what you’re doing?”

  “Why?” he asked, chuckling lightly, the sound rumbling from his chest. “Is it working?”

  Yes. “No.” She lifted her chin.

  One blond eyebrow lifted. “Is that so?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She pursed her lips, challenging him to reply.

  “You have a sassy mouth,” Zackary growled. “I like it.”

  An excitement swirled in Mariselle’s belly. She liked being talked to this way. She liked how Zackary was flirting with her. Then, shoving away all thoughts of her night with Alexander, she twisted her full, pink lips into a wry grin. “Prove it.”

  “Do you wish to have Spitfire saddled up?”

  They immediately broke apart as their heads swiveled toward the end of the row of stalls to see Richard standing there, a smile on his dusty face.

  “Yes,” Zackary replied, clearing his throat and taking a step back from Mariselle.

  “You need ’er saddled, Your Majesty?”

  “Aye,” the king replied, nodding.

  “I’ll get to it straight away.” Richard headed toward the stall and began checking Spitfire to ensure she was ready to ride.

  But Zackary couldn’t take his eyes off of Mariselle, nor could she take her gaze off of him. Her belly fluttered with butterflies, wondering what he’d be doing with her on the ride they were about to take.

  Chapter 12

  Spitfire wasn’t such a spitfire, after all. After an initial sprint, she slowed to a rhythmic trot, and once they had found themselves inside the forest that surrounded the North Haven castle, she stopped.

  With Mariselle’s arms still wrapped around Zackary, he kicked the horse. “Ho!”

  But she would not move to begin a gallop.

  “Bloody horse,” Zackary said, huffing.

  “Hey,” Mariselle said. “Maybe she’s hungry. Or thirsty.”

  “Richard fed and watered her in the stables.”

  Mariselle sighed. “Maybe she’s just tired then. She’s no filly. You can see the graying around her eyes.”

  Zackary said nothing, just dismounted and then helped Mariselle down. Then, taking the length of rope used for the reins, he pinned Spitfire up to the nearest tree.

  “Okay, we let her rest. We can go for a walk.”

  Mariselle nodded, and as Zackary grabbed her hand, it felt strong and warm in her small one. A carpet of multicolored leaves crunched underfoot as they walked through the dense wood. A few forest animals scattered as they sensed the humans coming through. Mariselle noticed that the blue sky had become obscured by the thicket of trees overhead. She could also smell wood burning from somewhere far off.

  “So how are things at the West Haven?” she asked, trying to break the silence.

  Zackary chuckled. “Pretty much the same as they are here. Everything is quiet, boring. Villagers and townsfolk bitching and moaning about the infertility problem…”

  “And you bedding every pretty woman who bats an eyelash at you?” Mariselle interjected.

  They stopped walking and he pushed her up against the nearest tree. It was forceful enough for a couple of leaves to fall. Two landed in her hair, but Zackary paid them no mind.

  “Your sassy mouth is gonna get you in trouble,” he said quietly, looking at her lips as he spoke.

  “So, you’re not like Alexander. You keep to yourself and don’t have a harem at your beck and call?” Mariselle’s eyes twinkled in amusement.

  How was he to answer that? Of course, he could have any maiden he wanted—and he had. But did she need to know that? No. No, she didn’t.

  Lifting his gaze to her blazing green eyes, he reached up and plucked a leaf from her hair. As he tossed it away, he replied, “I’m the king. That’s all you need to know. Now stop asking questions or else I’ll make sure your mouth stays busy.”

  Mariselle’s eyes widened. “I was just asking a question. No need to get hostile. Your Majesty.”

  His breathing sped up and he huffed out, “Now it’s you who is trying to take control here. You needn’t bother. It won’t happen.”

  She slithered her arms around his waist and pulled him closer to her. “Is that so? Because from where I’m standing”—she thrusted her pelvis into his—“it seems as though you want to control me, but know that I ultimately hold the keys to what your body gets and doesn’t get.”

  The brazenness of sweet, young Mariselle rendered Zackary speechless. She was nothing like the young, gap-toothed, freckle-faced redhead who seemed afraid of her own shadow back when they were children.

  Instead of responding to her sass, his want engulfed him. Without a second thought, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. The firmness of his desire pushed against her, and she moaned when his tongue invaded her mouth.

  “I am going to take you right here,” he said after breaking the kiss. “I want to spill my seed. You’re so soft and perfect.”

  Mariselle gasped. His comment about his “seed” caused her to unlink her arms from behind his back and take a step away from the tree. Panting, she tried to catch her breath befor
e she responded. “Zackary, I desire you, too. But I cannot be with you in that way right now.”

  Confusion colored his features, and then realization dawned. With one hand, he rubbed at the blond stubble on his chin and nodded. “You’ve been in my brother’s bed.”

  She didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t think asking, “Which brother?” would be a good idea at the moment. So many emotions flooded her, she had to take a minute to pause and gather herself. Staring at the handsome king, she decided silence was the only option. She gathered up her dress and began walking away from him. Fighting back tears, she began to fast-walk deeper into the forest. She didn’t know where she was headed, but she knew she needed to escape the look of hurt and surprise in Zackary’s eyes.

  Her quick steps soon turned into a run, and then a sprint. As fast as her legs would take her, she ran until she almost bumped into a small picket fence. She suddenly halted, her movements kicking up a flurry of leaves beneath her.

  She stared at the white pickets of the small fence, and then to the tiny, green, cozy-looking house behind it. Smoke belched out of the brick chimney fixed atop the structure. A path of cobblestones led to a red front door. Flowers of all kinds lined the walk. Intrigued, she went to open the small gate and head to the front door. As she walked, she stared at the front windows. Both were flanked by small, red shutters, but what little light shone through the gaps in the trees made it impossible to see if there was anyone or anything looking at her through the windows.

  Curiously, she continued her way down the path, and once she was near the front door, she raised her hand to knock.

  “Don’t,” she heard a deep voice say.

  She whirled around and wasn’t surprised to see Zackary standing there by the gate, his face looking stormy.

  “What is this house doing out here in the forest?”

  Zackary glanced at the green house behind her and said, “I was wondering the same thing. I think it’s best we go. We’ll have my brother’s constables investigate.”

  “You don’t want to?” Mariselle asked, disappointment evident in her tone that the big, strapping Zackary didn’t want to inspect the house.

  “Absolutely not,” he said, his jaw bunching in annoyance and probably anger.

  Mariselle ignored him and knocked on the door.

  “What the bloody hell are you doing?” he hissed, grabbing her wrist. But it was too late.

  The door creaked open and Zackary pushed Mariselle behind him protectively. An elderly woman answered. Her back was stooped forward, a cane in her hand, and her hooked nose had a wart on it. She glanced up at the couple through cloudy brown eyes and used her gnarled, spotted hands to push her glasses up her face. She wore a long, black dress that had seen better days, and her gray hairs were poking out of her head covering.

  “Can I help you?” she rasped, looking confused. Her hands tremored as she gripped the cane.

  “I, um. Well, we…” Mariselle was suddenly at a loss for words.

  “We’re sorry to bother you, madam. We’ll just be on our way,” Zackary said, smiling tightly at the old woman and gripping Mariselle by the shoulders.

  “I beg your pardon, ma’am. Sorry to have bothered you,” Mariselle said quietly as she let Zackary lead her away.

  The old woman watched the young, attractive couple stride away down her garden path, through the picket fence, and then disappear amongst the trees in the forest. Once she was sure they had cleared, she threw the cane down and took off the head covering. No longer stooping forward, she stood up straight and a magical wind began to blow as a light fog swirled around her. The creature’s body quickly reshaped into its true form. Once the transformation was complete, Gaylen the wizard stood at his six-foot height, ripped the tattered dress from over his body, and tossed it to the floor. More fog and wind swirled around the house as it reverted back to its tall, dark castle in the middle of the woods. Gone were the garden and picket fence, replaced by an iron fence and a turret that reached the tops of the trees surrounding it.

  Gaylen chuckled as he reveled in how he had fooled the maiden and the young Rothhaven king of Syracuse’s West Haven as he closed the door and retreated back into the house.

  Gaylen’s smugness was short-lived, however, when a knock again sounded at his door. Irritated that he would have to expel more energy for another cloaking spell, he first rushed to his magic mirror and swiped his hand over it. He could see a young woman standing at the door. He realized it wasn’t the young Mariselle, and figured he had no reason to cloak himself again.

  As he answered the door, the beautiful young woman smiled up at him. Her dark hair, red lips, and sparkling lavender-colored eyes stared up at him.

  He took a breath to ask her what she wanted, and it was then the scent of jasmine hit his nostrils. “Hecate,” he hissed between gritted teeth.

  “Those kids led me right to you,” she said, lifting her chin.

  “What do you want, witch?”

  She chuckled. “Thanks, yes, I am. Aren’t you going to invite me in, old lover?”

  Gaylen eyed her with suspicion. Yes, they had once been lovers, about a hundred years ago—literally—but they had since been on opposing sides when it came to the health of Syracuse and the Family Rothhaven. Where Hecate thought they were good for the country, Gaylen wanted to see them all destroyed. He had been relishing in the curse Angelique had put upon the country, and knew it was only a matter of decades before the entire Rothhaven name would be obliterated. He was perfectly content to wait.

  He knew this would come with a price, though. All Syracuse families would be wiped out, then the country would completely barren, desolate, and devoid of people and life. He didn’t much care for humans in general, but to have the Rothhaven name die out would be worth it to him. Besides, he could just transplant people from other countries there once the need arose.

  Hecate knew Gaylen didn’t know that the curse would soon be broken, for he would have surely done something to keep the Rothhavens’ eager cocks away from Mariselle. The little spell she’d put on Mariselle to make her more confident and curious in the ways of sex had helped, but she refused to meddle any more than that. It was a personal rule of hers that she didn’t alter or change any spell cast by another witch. This was why she had come to Gaylen. She had been searching for him literally for years, but got lucky this day, as she was following the amorous couple to see if they would copulate in the woods. Her plan was then to visit the South Haven castle and begin to watch the routines of King Mathias in preparation for him to reunite with Mariselle so the bloody spell could finally be broken.

  But now, she had hit a roadblock of sorts. She was going to have to rely on Gaylen to help her, but do it in a way where he didn’t know he was helping. She was going to have to rely on magic and good, old feminine wiles.

  The previous century, while living in England and while she had still been human, she’d met Gaylen at Windsor Castle. She had been the royals’ magical consultant, when they decided they wanted to have two. One for the queen and her children, and the other for the king. That was when Gaylen came along. Hecate knew the minute she had met him in the throne room of King Edward VII that he wasn’t what he had seemed. He was still human, as she was, but had cast a spell to slow down his aging process. At the time he’d had a headful of jet-black hair, piercing hazel eyes, and a confidence and swagger about him that had attracted her to him.

  The two soon became entangled in a deeply intense sexual relationship that had eventually cost them both their jobs. Banished from England, they had fled to Syracuse and continued their relationship. Until one day they both realized it wasn’t anything other than physical, and now that the secret thrill at the thought of being caught out had passed, they realized they had nothing in common. They eventually drifted apart, and in the year following, when Hecate was discovered by commoners practicing witchcraft in the woods, they had dragged her to the town square and had burned her at the stake. The humans never knew
that martyring a witch just made them stronger. It made them immortal. They could walk between the living and the dead, never aging, and completely unscathed.

  However, it took its toll emotionally, and now, Hecate was tired.

  Could mythical, not-really-human creatures be tired? For the past hundred years or so, since her human death, she had been doing whatever she wanted. Perfecting her spells. Finding ways to use the earth’s elements to create stronger ones. Taking human and non-human lovers to keep herself happy. Gaining protégés like Angelique to train so she could continue fighting the good fight against evil.

  Hecate was sad that Angelique had lost her human life, but she knew eventually she would end up just like her… existing between the planes. Sometimes taking on a human form or inhabiting a current one, and living as a ghostly presence, leaving only the smell of jasmine in her wake.

  Since Angelique’s death, she had not seen or heard from her on any plane. Her death had been somewhat brutal and Hecate still had regrets about it. But there was nothing she could do now. She only hoped her sweet, red-haired protégé would visit her eventually and help her out. Because goddess knew she could use the help right about now.

  Pushing thoughts of Angelique and her problem away, she plastered on a fake smile to the creepy wizard she’d once shared a bed with.

  Chapter 13

  Zackary gripped Mariselle’s hand as they stalked across the fields and into the castle. And while Mariselle admitted that it felt a little like dragging and manhandling, she kind of liked it. Zackary was laid-back and playful, but he was also strong and commanding when the mood called for it, so she let him think he was in control by dragging her out of the forest, through the stables, and back into the Castle North Haven.

  As they made their way through the courtyard, Zackary stopped and admired the spitting fountain modeled after Amber. Still gripping Mariselle’s hand, they halted and stood before the fountain.