“Rinse,” he ordered. “Warm rinse.”
Cinnabar flitted into his mind. Cursed to remain an owl. What kind of life was that for such a beautiful and kind woman? He liked her. A lot. A satisfied grin formed as another memory surfaced. Cinnabar in his arms.
He did not want the princess, despite her beauty and prestige.
It was the mussed Cinnabar he craved, with her stained white gown and bare feet.
Aware of time passing, Sly issued commands to halt the water and entered the drying tube. He dressed in the hideous green suit, although the looking glass told him it matched his eyes. Scarlett would say they popped.
He stilled. Turned over the name in his mind.
Nope. Nothing. Who the fuck was Scarlett?
* * * * *
Irritation and impatience simmered through Princess Iseabal as she waited for Sly Mitchell to arrive. She shouldn’t have rushed her abduction, but those blue ladies had attracted his attention. She’d needed to act immediately. She peered at the doorway. Although tempted to summon Sly with magic or to send a servant, she bided her time and confined herself to crumpling a piece of bread.
“Not hungry, child?” her father asked.
“I ate a roll and fruit earlier in my chamber,” she said. “You seem better today, Father.”
“My head has ceased aching. Where is that young man of yours?” His haggard expression dug deeper into his lined face as if he suspected a problem.
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” Iseabal strove for calm. It wouldn’t do for Calum or Katrina to witness her agitation.
“I’m beginning to think this man of yours is a mirage,” Liam said.
She bared her teeth at him and forced herself not to check the entrance to the royal salon again. Sly had better arrive soon, or she’d have words with Alfric. And perhaps a love potion to boost her spell. Something to back up the drug in his morning drink.
Just when her anxiety was about to force her from her seat, Sly appeared with a servant. He said something in a low voice and grinned. Every ounce of tension vibrating inside her dispersed. Ah, his smile. It lit her day, made her think of triumph.
Sly sauntered toward their family group and bowed his head to her father. “Good morning, King Fionnghall.” He turned to her. “Princess Iseabal.”
“I was about to send out a search party for you.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m still learning my way around the castle. A search party would’ve proved helpful. Somehow, I ended up in the kitchens and one of the girls volunteered to show me the way here. I think I’ve memorized the route now and shouldn’t suffer further problems.”
“Really,” Calum muttered in an aside to Katrina. “I don’t know where your sister found this bumpkin but she should send him back.”
Fury had Iseabal curling her hands into fists, although she made certain they remained hidden beneath the tablecloth. Sly Mitchell would make a perfect husband. He was handsome. He was strong. And most important of all, she controlled him. The last thing she needed was a bossy husband with aspirations to become the next ruler.
“Sly, this is my brother, Prince Liam.”
Sly smiled in a pleased-to-meet-you way and held out his right hand.
Oh, no. Iseabal’s breath caught in alarm. She should have explained more about the protocol at the castle. No contact unless invited first. Her cheeks heated as she caught bits and pieces of Calum and Katrina’s whispering.
Liam rose from his chair and panic unfurled in Iseabal. Liam possessed the ability to injure Sly with a blink of his eye, his power on par with her own—if he practiced more.
But her brother shocked her. He grinned and clasped his hand with Sly’s.
Iseabal puffed out her relief—and almost laughed aloud at the abrupt break in Calum’s jeering whispers.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Sly said. “I understand you’ve been away from Seelie to trade wool.”
“Yes. A necessary chore, but one I enjoy,” Liam said. “Come and sit by me.”
“I’d love to hear more about your wool. I understand it makes beautiful garments,” Sly said.
“Who told you that?” Iseabal demanded.
Silence fell, and she became the center of attention. Shoodlepoppers. Too pushy. Too strident. She’d give away her game plan if she wasn’t careful, but she must regulate Sly’s activities. She must control him at this stage.
“I noticed the servants have beautiful fabric in their garments. When Judith guided me to the salon, she told me about Seelie’s main export. She and the other servants are very proud of Seelie’s success. Your wool brings in money, which makes everyone’s lives better.”
She’d overreacted and drawn attention.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
If she didn’t ease off, her plan would fail.
“I’d enjoy learning more of your farming methods,” Sly said.
Curiosity glowed in Liam. “Are you interested in farming?”
The instant the question registered, Sly frowned, and Iseabal’s stomach churned with foreboding. She’d never had this problem before. Sly was strong, his mind, his will. A challenge.
“Yes.” Sly blinked rapidly. “I like to learn about different methods.”
“You can come with me after we’ve broken our fast,” Liam said, and approval shimmered in his invitation.
Iseabal popped a piece of roll in her mouth and chewed. This might not be a disaster after all. Liam’s opinion held sway with the castle residents. If he approved of Sly, then the people would accept her marriage.
Yes, this might aid her plan. Soon she’d marry Sly, and her power base would grow, and in the meantime, she’d do everything within her scope to ensure Sly’s history remained deeply hidden.
Soon, his past would begin and end at this castle.
Castle Seelie.
Chapter Nine
Middlemarch Resort
Joe Mitchell completed his chores before returning to the room he shared with his brother.
Normally, they fought over who took the first shower. Normally, they whined about having to don dressy clothes and attend the resort functions. Normally, they bitched about the lack of funds allocated to their farming enterprise.
This wasn’t normal.
Sly lay on his bed, asleep and unmoving. He’d been unconscious for days, and seemed paler than he had this morning, but that was the only change.
Joe removed his muddy boots and padded to Sly’s bedroom. Low voices told him his mother and at least one of his older brothers were with Sly. Ah, Saber.
“Hi,” Joe said. “How is Sly?”
Worry shaded Ma’s blue eyes. “No change. He’s breathing normally. He isn’t losing weight, so Casey doesn’t think it’s necessary to inject him with nutrients. But he’s so cold.”
“Has Casey discovered anything from her medical friends? Has anyone else gone through the same thing?” Saber asked.
“No,” Ma said. “I…we don’t know what to do next.”
Joe approached the bed to stand by his older brother. Sly appeared asleep, his naked chest rising and falling with each breath. Yet he wasn’t rousing from his slumber.
“I got a pin,” Joe said. “I jabbed it into his big toe and he didn’t react.”
“Joe,” his mother snapped in horror.
Saber laughed. “I have to admit. That is something I might have done myself. Good to know. We’d better tell the others in case Felix, Leo or Scarlett come up with the same idea.”
Joe gripped his brother’s shoulder and lightly squeezed. His skin was icy but it warmed at his touch. “Ma, Saber. Touch Sly and tell me what you feel.”
Both his brother and mother did as he suggested.
“The instant someone touches him, his skin warms,” Saber said.
“Yes.” An idea formed in Joe’s mind. Audacious. Unusual. But it might be the way forward—for him and for Sly.
Of course, Sly would probably kill him once he regained consciousness.
He trailed his fingers over his brother’s chilled cheek. The skin grew warmer, and there was a distinct difference in color between one side of his face and the other he’d just touched. “Sly’s pale, but when I touch him, healthy color returns to his skin.”
Saber cocked his head. “What are you saying?”
“We should run further experiments, but I think physical contact is keeping Sly alive, keeping his blood flowing. If this continues…we could use his situation to make additional currency.” Joe bit back a nervous laugh. God, Sly would kill him once he’d regained consciousness. “Tout Sly as a Sleeping Beauty and charge the resort guests for the chance to awaken him. Publicize the old fairy tale. Do a special reading or something. Charge them to kiss Sly. It might at least help his blood circulation. It’s not as if he’d want his own family caressing him all day.” He slid his hand down Sly’s arm while he waited for Saber’s reaction.
“We do always require additional funds,” Saber mused.
“No,” Joe blurted. “Sly and I need to increase our farming operation. If we decide to do this, he should receive the funds.”
Saber started to argue but Ma spoke first. “Saber, that is fair if we decide to go forward with Joe’s suggestion.”
“Sly won’t like the idea,” Saber said.
“He’ll hate it, but we need to try something. Everything else has failed.” Tears glinted in Ma’s eyes. “It’s a matter of keeping Sly alive while we seek a cure.”
“I agree, otherwise I wouldn’t have suggested it,” Joe said.
“I can’t believe I’m considering this wacky idea, but I’ll speak to Casey,” Saber said. “If she thinks physical contact will help Sly, we’ll go ahead.”
Chapter Ten
Castle Seelie
Sly ate sparingly, eating and drinking only the items Prince Liam devoured. He wasn’t the man he’d pictured after meeting the rest of Iseabal’s family. Oh, his clothes were of superior quality, but his black hair was unkempt and in need of a cut. His face was carved along harsh lines, and his golden skin held a bronzer hue, perhaps because he spent time outdoors. This was a man who listened before he acted, a man he’d instinctively offer friendship.
After they finished their meal, Sly turned to the prince before Princess Iseabal made demands on his time. Even though she seemed pleasant at the moment, Cinnabar’s warnings rang in his mind.
“Are you busy today?” Sly asked Prince Liam. “I’d enjoy seeing your farming region.”
“Oh, but I thought to introduce Sly to my friends,” Princess Iseabal protested.
“I’m only out for the morn,” Prince Liam said. “I’d enjoy the company. Issy, don’t pout. I’ll have Sly back in time for the midday meal. You can spend time with your friends this afternoon.”
“Very well.” Princess Iseabal smiled, but her chin lifted and her eyes glinted red for an instant.
Sly blinked. No, he’d imagined the red thing. Her eyes were the same cornflower blue. He stiffened. Cornflower. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know what this flower was or the memory source.
Princess Iseabal touched his arm. “Something wrong, Sly?”
“Clothes,” Sly said, seizing the first excuse that came to mind. He glanced at Prince Liam’s austere black. “Iseabal, I require something else to wear.”
“Princess Iseabal,” she snapped. “Your clothes are fine. All my male friends dress this way. Do you want everyone to poke fun at you?”
“Like they do Prince Liam,” Lord Calum said with a trace of smugness.
“No one wishes to dress like Liam,” Princess Katrina agreed with a wry shake of her head.
“Peasant,” Lord Calum snapped.
Prince Liam’s eyes flashed a red warning. “Who are you calling a peasant?”
Yep. That red eye thing wasn’t his imagination. Red eyes equaled temper. Something to file away and remember.
“Enough,” the king said without warning. He’d remained silent throughout much of the meal, and now he struggled to rise.
Sly shot to his feet. “Let me offer my arm, King Fionnghall.” He extended it to aid the king’s tottery balance.
“Thank ye, lad,” the king said.
The prince and princesses gaped at Sly. Lord Calum’s eyes did that freaky red thing.
“I’ll come with you,” Prince Liam said, standing.
He hurried to his father’s other side, and together they directed the king from the salon, letting him walk on his own but offering balance and strength to keep him upright.
“I have clothes you can borrow when you go out with Liam,” the king said.
“Thank you, Your Majesty, but perhaps I’ll wear the clothes I have on now. I don’t wish to upset Princess Iseabal.”
“Wise man,” the king said, showing unusual spirit. “But I’ll give you the clothes anyway. I’ll send them to your chamber with my personal valet.”
“Thank you.”
“Father, do you wish to return to bed?”
“Bah,” the king said.
His tetchiness reminded Sly of his grandmother. Her flashing green eyes and… The thought faded, leaving frustration in his wake. “How about if we pull a chair over to the sunny spot by the windows? You can enjoy the garden and watch your subjects from there.”
The king’s gaunt face filled with eagerness. “Yes. Yes. Do that. I tire of my four walls.”
“Which chair is your favorite?” Sly asked.
Mischief chased across the king’s face. “The faded blue one behind the screen over there. Its shabbiness offends my valet.”
“I’ll get it for you.” Sly waited while Prince Liam took the king’s weight, then hastened to retrieve the chair. With the chair situated to the king’s satisfaction and a blanket over his lap, Sly and Liam left the castle via a back entrance.
“I’m still learning my way around,” Sly said. “I didn’t realize this entrance was here.”
“It’s coded only for the royal family.” Liam pressed his hand to a panel Sly hadn’t noticed, and the door slid open to reveal a large courtyard.
A burly man held two shaggy beasts with stocky barrel bodies, both saddled. An unkempt hump, much like a camel’s, protruded in front of their decorative leather saddles. Their heads were long and narrow, reminding him of a… His mind went blank when he tried to source the information, but he continued to study the animals with interest. Their long shaggy ears were rounded at the tips, and they possessed stubby tails.
“Do you ride?” Prince Liam asked.
Sly frowned. “I think so.”
“We’ll soon find out. Take the one on the right. She is younger and hasn’t bonded with any rider yet.”
The prince took the reins of one of the creatures. The burly groom held the beast and waited for Sly. Now that they were closer, Sly heard the throaty rumbles coming from the prince’s mount. This should be interesting. Some animals didn’t like him—something about his dual nature…
As usual, the memory disappeared when he attempted to follow it, and frustration slammed into Sly’s head with a fiery spear of pain. He winced and focused on the present.
“What do you call these creatures?”
“Cambeests,” Prince Liam said. “They are common on the planet Viros. Other planets in that sector, too, although these days we breed our own stock.”
Sly sprang onto the saddle and placed his feet in the stirrups. Surprise glinted in the groom’s eyes as he looped the reins over the creature’s head and handed control to Sly.
Prince Liam pressed his legs around his cambeest and it danced in place, surprisingly graceful on its three broad toes, before moving forward.
The animal quivered with restless energy beneath Sly. He copied Prince Liam and his mount shot straight forward, bucking and twisting as it attempted to unseat him. Instinct took over and Sly gripped with his knees and thighs, letting his body move with the cambeest instead of against.
Prince Liam grinned from his mount. The groom sported a broad
smirk, his beefy arms folded across his chest as he watched the show.
He’d been set up. Too busy for anger, Sly spoke quietly to the cambeest and urged it forward. Gradually the hijinks ceased and the frenetic pace slowed to a steady trot.
“Decent job, my lord,” the groom called.
“A test?” Sly asked drily when he rode abreast with the prince.
“One you passed with flying colors. Brigitte doesn’t enjoy leaving the stable this early. Watch her when you dismount. She’ll try to nip your arse. Cambeests aren’t known for their sweet disposition.”
“Thank you for the warning.”
The prince grinned, a wide, friendly beam that told Sly he might have made a friend. “Ready to ride?”
“Bring it,” Sly said.
“Where are you from? I haven’t heard that expression before.”
“I come from…” Damn, it had been on the tip of his tongue. “My memory has been faulty recently,” Sly said, unable to watch the man’s face as he confessed this weakness.
“No mind,” Prince Liam said. “You are here now. You showed compassion with my father, and I thank you for that.”
“No thanks necessary. He reminds me of my grandmother. Feisty, despite his apparent weakness.”
“I thought to give him some entertainment. You were in a spot visible to him.”
“I knew there must be a valid reason,” Sly said wryly. “I’ll be prepared next time.”
“You ride like a natural.”
An owl flew in front of them and settled in the sturdy lower branches of an emerald-green tree. Prince Liam’s cambeest took exception and shied, almost unseating the prince.
“Turnaround is a bitch,” Sly said cheerfully once Prince Liam regained control of his mount. He grinned at the owl, which hooted twice in a weird squawk of amusement.
Prince Liam chortled. “You speak weird words. I like them.”
They rode to the far south of the island, not far from the departure gate for Seelie, passing the lake, albeit a different part from where he had met Cinnabar. Once they exited the trees, green fields dotted with white animals filled the horizon.
Spellbound with Sly Page 9
