by May Dawson
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, and then I saw the strap in his hand. Red hot anger flashed over me.
I punched him in the face, a quick one-two combination that burst his nose open and then sent his chin flying skyward. He landed hard on his ass.
“No one’s beating a kid in my castle,” I warned him.
He scoffed at me, as much as anyone can scoff with blood pouring from their nose. It came out as a bit of a sob itself. “Your castle? You’re going to be strung up on the wall for what you just did.”
Right, I looked mortal. The word might not have gotten around about my peculiar appearance.
I offered my hand to the kid, who looked up at me with terrified eyes. There were mottled bruises across her arms—old wounds and new—and someone had split her lip.
“Where did you come from?” I demanded.
She looked at me uncertainly, and didn’t take my hand.
That was probably for the best, since the next second, a whirring noise flickered above my head. I glanced up to see the flying Fae above me, just before he let himself fall. He slammed me into the wooden floor.
He was light and I was already rolling to throw him when two other Fae piled on top of me. I struggled to buck them off. I could really use that damned sword right about now.
“Run!” I hissed at the girl, at least wanting her out of danger until I had the situation under control.
She started to slide under the butcher block counter, but one of the Fae snapped at her, “Stay. Stand against the wall.”
She rose to her feet on the other side of the counter and I thought she was going to make a run for it, but instead she backed up until she bumped the wall. I willed her to run; then she stopped and stared forward. There was a glazed look in her eyes. Fuck. That damned Fae glamor. I thought it only worked on humans, but maybe it worked on kids too.
I had better learn to do that myself, and fast.
I slammed my elbow into the nearest face. And hey, it turned out those Fae noses are just as crunchy and blood-gushy as human noses, despite the Fae’s superiority complex.
But they were so strong—stronger than a shifter, even—and as one of them rolled out from under me, so quick he was a flash, I found myself pinned on my stomach. One of them was half-on top of me, his weight pressing the breath out of my lungs, his elbow bearing down hard into a pinch point in my shoulder that sent pain rippling through my shoulders.
The one I’d hurt earlier kicked me in the side, his boot catching my ribs, and the world went red with pain.
He tried again and this time, I managed to explode up and flip myself. The man on top of me hadn’t expected it—his elbow dug in until I wanted to scream and then suddenly, I was free, no one on top of me—so I got loose, right before the kick landed across my breast. I let out a half-feral scream that surprised even me and grabbed his boot, yanking him with me as I rolled. He lost his balance, tripping over my body, and slammed into the countertop.
Then I scrambled up, grabbing a frying pan off the rack and whirling to face my attackers.
Three familiar, big Fae bodies flashed through the kitchen, and the males who had attacked me screamed. Duncan decapitated one of the cringing Fae with a brutal flash of his bright sword. Another Fae tried to fly away, only for Azrael to pounce on his back and drag him down, before slitting his throat with the bejeweled dagger he carried from his belt. Apparently it wasn’t just ceremonial.
The Fae who tried to run from Tiron slipped on the ice suddenly underfoot, and Tiron kicked him over onto his back. The Fae tried to say something about mercy, but his words were cut off by Tiron’s blade.
“There’s no mercy if you hurt our princess,” Tiron warned him.
The Fae was a corpse, so there was no real need for that one-liner. Tiron looked up at me and winked.
Blood was splattered across the kitchen, across me and across the still-petrified child who stood pressed against the wall.
Then it felt as if time slowed down to a normal speed. Tiron picked up a kitchen towel and wiped the blood off the blade of his knife. The Fae who Azrael had killed thumped down onto the ground behind him.
Duncan surveyed me and the pan I still carried skeptically. “Are you going to make me a cobbler, Alisa? Cobbler is my favorite.”
“You’d think they’d have better sense than to attack the Princess in a room full of knives and…cast iron,” Tiron said, giving me a saucy grin.
“Why did you kill them?” I demanded, pressing a hand to my side, then jerking it away as pain blossomed through my chest so intensely that I could barely breathe. Fuck. I’d need to baby those ribs; I was pretty sure I’d broken a few.
“They were dead once they hurt you,” Azrael said bleakly.
The countertop pressed into my hip, and I realized I’d backed into it.
“They didn’t even know who she was,” Duncan said, his voice amused. “They thought some random human came in here and told them to fuck off—”
“Are you all right?” Tiron asked. He threw a look over his shoulder at Duncan and Azrael that I couldn’t quite read, then tried to pull me away from them.
“Fine,” I said. “I don’t need to be babied.” Just my ribs. “What’s the girl’s story?”
Tiron followed my gaze to the girl who still stood against the wall. “She must have been one of the tithes from a village that couldn’t raise enough funds. The summer court still takes servants as payment.”
“Excuse me?”
“For the tithe,” Tiron said, as if that added any clarity.
“Remember our precious princess is an idiot now,” Duncan called. There was a dragging sound; apparently he was on clean-up duty.
I watched him and Azrael each tow a body by their ankles, leaving a smear of blood across the floor behind them. Tiron followed my gaze, then said, “Faer would have them tortured to death. They assaulted you. They were lucky to go out this way.”
“Faer didn’t strike me as the protective type.”
“It’s not about protection. It’s about honor and respect.”
I huffed a skeptical laugh at that. “Where does the girl come from? How do we help her?”
Tiron gave me a long look. “You’re going to make someone very unhappy.”
“Ask me if I give a shit,” I said.
What’s the point of being a queen if you can’t set the world right?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tiron
“Stay with Alisa and keep her out of trouble,” Azrael told Duncan.
He glanced at the girl, who sat across from Alisa, wide-eyed and kicking her feet. We were in Alisa’s lavish little apartment. Nikia bustled around uselessly, obviously distressed but trying to focus on a hearty breakfast.
Duncan raised his eyebrows, dusting his hands absently against his pants even though he’d already washed off the dead Fae’s blood.
“I’ll tell her to do the same with you,” Azrael added.
Duncan’s lips tilted into a smirk.
Azrael jerked his head, gesturing for me to come with him.
“Important job, Tiron. He needs you to keep him out of trouble while he talks to daddy,” Duncan called.
I’d never seen the princes come to blows, but watching Azrael’s jaw tense, I thought it might just be a matter of time.
We went to see Faer. The prince was still in bed, and he sat up, his face languid. There was a female massaging his shoulders and the blankets kept rippling down by his knees until I realized there was someone down there too. I averted my eyes as his eyelashes fluttered in pleasure.
“What?” he demanded, his voice surly.
“Thank you for seeing us,” Azrael managed. He was far more diplomatic than I was. “There was an incident this morning when Alisa visited the kitchen.”
“Oh? Was her toast burned? Pulp in her juice? Pits in her cherries? Did my sister kill anyone?” He didn’t seem too concerned.
“She ran across an indentured girl who was being…mi
streated…and she became involved. She would like to return her to her home.”
His eyes snapped open, although his lips were still parted, his breath coming in short pants, as if he were close to orgasm. Rage twisted his face.
Azrael said quickly, “I think it would be best if you freed the girl from her obligation, and we took Alisa to see her home. She might get the wrong idea about the Fae world—she might become obsessed with going home herself.” Then he corrected himself. “What she thinks is home, since it’s what she remembers.”
She might be obsessed with home. Or with revolution. From the fierce glint in Alisa’s eyes, I thought Azrael might be saving the ungrateful prince’s life.
Faer scoffed. “She won’t be going home.”
“By law, she can’t be married against her will,” Azrael began.
“I’d never want her to be,” Faer said, the lie rolling off his tongue smoothly. He raised a hand, shooing us out. “Fine. Take her on a tour. Let her save one little girl. Soften the realities. But make sure she’s back for the gala tonight.”
Azrael’s lips parted, as if he wanted to ask another? But instead he bowed and headed out of the room.
He was just as much of royal blood as Faer. I wondered how he felt, bowing to him. I didn’t dare ask; I never wanted to tip my own hand.
I was going to gut Faer one day. I’d dreamt of it so often it felt almost like a memory.
But I smiled like a fool, bowed, and walked out with Azrael.
Azrael exhaled in the hallway, running his hand through his hair to push it back from his face.
“Why did you ask me to come?” I hadn’t said a word.
Azrael glanced over his shoulder. Then he whispered, “Every time I’m within ten feet about him, I have completely inappropriate daydreams of assassination.”
I hadn’t realized Azrael and I had so much in common.
I glanced around, making sure we were truly alone, before I said, “He’ll give up one servant. But she’s not stupid—she’s going to know there are more.”
“I know,” he said.
A muscle ticked in his jaw, and I wondered how he felt about Alisa’s reaction. The autumn court had given up both living tithes and glamored human servants long ago. The summer court would fight tooth and nail to keep both.
“She can’t save the whole world,” he said. “And once she gets her memories back, she won’t care anymore.”
There was a bitter edge in his voice. I wasn’t sure if he really believed that about Alisa, though.
As if he couldn’t abide the topic anymore, Azrael swiveled on his heel and strode down the halls. “The princess will be waiting.”
I followed him through the labyrinth of the palace, then he led the way into Alisa’s room. She looked up from the table, frowning.
The girl at the table was silent, dazed. Nikia was trying, gods bless her, spooning tea into her mouth.
“Faer agreed we could bring her home,” Azrael said.
Alisa leapt from the chair and crossed to Azrael. He moved into a defensive posture automatically, but she threw her arms around his neck.
He smiled a true, delighted smile before he buried his face in her hair to hide it, and from the way Duncan scoffed, he saw it too.
“It will give you a chance to see more of the summer court,” Azrael added. “It’s time you got to know your kingdom again, Princess. And it’s time they got to know you.”
Her smile back was shy but genuine.
Somehow Azrael’s gentle moments had the feeling of a long con to me. Maybe I shouldn’t judge, as I was in the midst of the longest con on all three of them, but cold fingers of anger clutched my chest. “I’ll get the horses ready.”
I was headed down the long marble hall toward the sweeping stairs when I heard the door fly open behind me. That would be Duncan; Azrael didn’t slam doors.
“What the hell,” Duncan growled when he caught up to me. “You’re jealous?”
Jealousy wasn’t really the issue. I hated that we were all trying to use her to restore our kingdoms; I hated Duncan and Azrael for it, even as I did the same thing. But it was best if they read my emotion as jealousy.
I stared back at his grim face. “Are we going to keep pretending that you’re not?”
When he opened his mouth, I knew what he would say, so I said the words right along with him, “I know her too well for that.”
His bright blue eyes blazed.
I cut him off before he could say anything else, “You’re usually obnoxiously honest, Duncan. But this time around, you’re lying to yourself.”
“You don’t understand what she did—how she betrayed us—”
“Then help me understand.” I threw out an arm toward the apartment. “Because that girl in there, she just seems good. She seems kind. Better than any of us.”
We’d all been hardened by our losses and by what we must do to protect our people. But maybe that was no excuse for who we’d all become.
Duncan’s face was suddenly overcome by pretend pity. “That girl just oozes deceit. I suppose she’s beguiled you.”
“Sure, Duncan. Your hatred is all about what she did to the autumn court—and not at all because she chose your brother.”
I was usually pretty good at reading Duncan, but I didn’t see his right hook coming until the world went red.
Azrael and Alisa walked out of the room, and their faces were a distant blur. I was already in motion. When I slammed into Duncan, the two of us rolled down the stairs. Horned servants scattered; we slammed into some poor glamored human, who fell down the last few steps.
“Enough,” Azrael shouted, his voice full of fire that he rarely called upon. It even made Duncan look up, as careless as he usually seemed of his older brother’s authority.
Azrael didn’t storm down the stairs. He waited for Alisa, then swept down the stairs, as graceful as ever, taking his time.
I picked myself off the ground, ignoring Duncan. My shoulders throbbed where I’d hit the stairs, and my ankle was stiff along with my jaw. I resisted the impulse to rub any of the pain away, instead straightening my shoulders.
Azrael barely looked at me; his attention was focused on Duncan, who glanced away, his jaw stiff, as if his brother could scold him with a look.
“Tiron, take Alisa and go saddle the horses,” he said, his voice quiet. “We’ll be along shortly.”
I nodded. Azrael and Duncan walked away together, their postures straight and erect, the movement synchronized without discussion.
“He’s in trouble,” I mouthed at Alisa.
She rolled her eyes. “You should be too,” she chided me as we headed for the doors to the courtyard. Servants swung open the doors for us, and sunshine spilled across the marble lobby. She glanced at them, then swallowed whatever she was going to say.
I led her through the courtyard, past the gardens and the training pitch into the stables. When we walked into the quiet of the horse barn, she caught my arm and swung me around to face her. I thought she was going to ask what Duncan and I had fought about, but instead she asked me quietly, “Are you all right?”
For some reason, the question struck me hard. “Yes, of course. I take harder hits every day in the training yard.”
Her gaze was searching. She touched the edge of my swollen jaw. Her knuckles were calloused from fighting, and peeling black nail polish still covered part of her thumbnail. They weren’t a princess’s hands. But they were gentle.
“You two seem so close.” she said softly. Then she studied my face, and she must’ve realized I didn’t wasn’t to talk about it. She smiled as she stepped back, but I felt a lurch of loss as the space between us grew.
“We are, but we fight,” I said, as if it were nothing.
But Alisa’s presence felt as if it changed all my feelings, even though I knew it should change nothing. I needed to stick with the plan.
“Duncan can be difficult,” I added.
“No? I hadn’t noticed.”
<
br /> I began to saddle the horses, and she watched me. There was something bothering her still, but I didn’t want to talk about Duncan.
“This is my horse,” I said, stroking the white stallion’s neck. “Duncan rides the grouchy black one two stalls over, and Azrael’s got the chestnut mare.”
“What’s his name?”
“We aren’t supposed to name our animals,” I said. “That’s a human affectation.”
She scoffed at that. “Nonsense. You don’t talk to him? There’s no way I can believe you don’t talk to that horse, unless you’re actually the villain of this whole affair…”
I laughed at that, because she was smiling. But I felt a strange prickle at the word villain, given that I had my own secrets.
“Are you going to help me get the horses ready, Princess?” I asked. “You could go make friends with Duncan’s horse—that will irritate the hell out of him.”
She hesitated. “I don’t know how to ride, Tiron.”
“You know how to ride,” I assured her. “I’m sure you’ve been in the saddle since you could walk, just like every other Fae noble.”
“Maybe. But I don’t remember.”
I tightened the last cinch. My horse side-eyed me skeptically, and I patted his side.
“They never have to know,” I promised. “I’ll cover for you.”
She smiled. “That’s good of you, Tiron.”
That smile of hers made something twist in my chest. But I’d seen how Carter and Julian fell over themselves for her, and they certainly hadn’t won her heart.
I led her horse over and helped her get the toe of her slipper into the stirrup, then showed her where to grip the pommel.
She rose into the saddle with the grace of an ambitious slug. But confidence building first. She glanced down at me, waiting to see how I’d react, and I told her, “You’re a natural.”
“And you’re a liar,” she said, but there was no bite in it.
“It’ll come back to you,” I promised. I chewed my lip, debating how I could keep the others from noticing her lack of grace. “You know, with the child along… it would probably be best if we took the carriage.”
