One Thousand Kisses

by One Thousand Kisses

  “He’s more interested in who wants to offer you cards.” Jan smiled. “Until yesterday, you hadn’t done anything worth telling. Easy money.”

  “Do you think Warran will end it when he hears the rumors?”

  “He likes keeping you high and dry. Classic bond-fear. He knows you’re done when the test fails, if not before, so he’s using convention against you.”

  She noticed Janelle had said when the test failed, not if. Was her lack of compatibility with Warran obvious to everyone? Whenever she mentioned him to Tali, her sister mimed vomiting. She’d done it so often, Ani had worried the triplets would follow suit yesterday in Warran’s presence.

  “It’s not unheard of to break up before a test,” Ani said, “when there’s no affection or regard.”

  Janelle watched her with a very direct stare. “Who’d dare break up with Warran Torval before the test? You?”

  Ani shrugged. She planned to be that daring. Soon. If there were no alternatives, like Warran breaking up with her first. While bondmates weren’t always the fairy one might expect, it was rare they were intolerable.

  Janelle topped off their teacups and, subsequently, her various sweeteners. “Humans aren’t as monogamous as fairies.” The tink of her spoon against the cup was a piercing chime. “I think they have the right of it. It would make for better gossip.”

  Ani rubbed her temples, her fingers toasty from the lovely hot tea. “Is it considered monogamy when I’m not having sex at all?”

  “You could be.”

  “I don’t want to be, not with Warran. Oh!” She’d discussed her situation with Skythia, who’d taken Ani under her wing for some reason, but no one else. She didn’t miss the excited spark in Janelle’s eyes. “Jan. Jannie. Please don’t share that.”

  “If you want out of your agreement with Elder Torval, we could—”

  “Mmmm.” Ani held up her hand as her headache glinted at the edges of her vision. The thought of escaping Warran unnerved her. Her pulse began to vibrate in a way that felt like panic.

  A way that felt like last night.

  As she’d suspected, there seemed to be a connection between her feelings about Warran and her breakdown. If she was about to fall into hysterics, she needed to put some distance between herself and other people as soon as possible.

  “Thank you for the tea.” She rose. “I need to go.”

  Janelle goggled up at her. “What about the blanket?”

  Ani, already sliding the door latch, paused. “What blanket?”

  “For the cat.”

  “Have you got something on hand? I’ll pay you later, I promise. I just remembered an appointment.” With Healer Gangee for anxiety globes and magical training.

  “One minute, one minute. We can’t disappoint a Fey cat. That’s bad luck.” Janelle ran around her office, poking in drawers.

  “I really must go.” Ani opened the door.

  Jan clapped her hands. “I have just the thing. Will a brown blanket do?” She snagged the tube of material she’d cleaned and shoved it into Ani’s arms.

  The material was soft and nubby, pleasing to the touch. The heavy blanket, woven with a brown and cream spotted pattern, no longer reeked. Ani’s fingers stroked it involuntarily. “This belongs to someone else.”

  “I’ll take care of that. You make Sir Cat happy. With two Elders fighting over you, you need the luck.” Before Ani could correct her, Janelle hustled her out of the laundry and sent her on her way.

  Chapter Seven

  When Embor returned to his room after Anisette’s appointment, his bedding had become inexplicably soaked with pungent liquid. Nothing else had been touched. He reinforced his security barriers and alerted his PA. The man claimed ignorance but promised to have the bedding laundered before tonight.

  Since it seemed more a prank than a threat, the investigation could wait. Anyone who wished to assassinate him wouldn’t do it by soiling his possessions.

  Now it was evening, and he had a break to look into the matter. His privacy wards logged all traffic. Before he’d discovered the befouled bed, seventeen people had used the corridor near his room. Five had knocked. Two left message globes. Three had entered—his sister, his PA and the housekeeper assigned to his room.

  The laundry staff hadn’t come until afterwards. Several sets of exercise clothing were folded in his chest of drawers, but the bedding was nowhere to be seen.

  Annoyed, Embor tested the locks again. With his combination of fire and ether, his wards and shields were the most complex available. After recent advances, they were so impervious he could hide himself next door to his sib if he chose. Yet they remained undisturbed. The reasonable explanation was that Skythia, the PA or the housekeeper had polluted his blanket. But which one—and why?

  He’d question them tomorrow. It was late, and before he could sleep, his last energy globe had to wear off. He settled into his favorite armchair to continue a project he’d begun the previous night.

  The research was absorbing, which was why Skythia nearly startled him into dropping his book when she mind-spoke to him out of the blue.

  So you finally got off your duff and propositioned Ani?

  Embor closed the book, his finger marking his spot. No.

  I heard different.

  You heard wrong. He’d heard a number of things today himself, none true and all annoying. Go away, I’m busy.

  Their mental link intensified as Skythia, halfway across the Realm, psychically located him. He whipped up a discreet barrier for the energy spell dregs but allowed her the rest of the access siblings had to another. He could practically hear her snort of laughter as she saw through his eyes. Is that my copy of The Thousand Kisses?

  No, he lied.

  Picking out the best ritual number? You know you’re going for a one-oh-one.

  Why does everyone… Embor broke off before Skythia became too curious. The laundress had believed the same thing, the laundress who had yet to return his blanket. Perhaps it had been ruined. Why were you in my room today?

  Looking for my book.

  She could transport back and forth at will, just as he could. What did you do to my blanket?

  No idea what you’re talking about. How was the appointment this morning?

  Embor would pursue the blanket later. The abuse of Anisette took precedence. Gangee confirmed the sixth arts were used on her. I suspect the Torvals of foul play.

  But why? She’s nobody to them, a trainee who’ll never make Elder because her freak of a freak-ass sister got freaking knocked up by a onesie.

  I can barely translate your human slang. Skythia spent as much time in humanspace as she could get away with. It wasn’t like Primaries were encouraged, or permitted, to cross over after his kidnapping. When she was in humanspace she didn’t even hunt rogue agents, the only good reason for visiting there.

  I can barely translate your paranoia, she responded. Warran and Ophelia are repulsive, but the sixth arts? Foul play? You accuse me of foul play on a regular basis.

  With good reason. She was the brawn of their pairing, the enforcer, while he was the brain. They’d chosen the roles deliberately, to detract attention from his fire mastery. Fairies liked to pretend they were too civilized for war, and the power Embor could harness surpassed the humans’ nuclear weapons in destructiveness.

  You’re not seeing clearly. Gangee might have found traces of spirit magic but he didn’t find the source.

  We know the source, he insisted.

  Do we? Remember two years ago when Jake accidentally mind-controlled half our cabinet? And don’t forget the terrible trio—the Serendipity kids’ powers are emerging. The magic that affected Ani wasn’t necessarily deliberate.

  I’m not paranoid. The Torvals harmed her. Embor’s mind-sight washed with orange as his emotions smoldered. Warran will suffer for this. All of that clan—

  Easy, guy, Skythia said. Different Torvals. We can’t let the Torval agents’ actions prejudice us against our constituents. Pr
imary assessments are in a couple months.

  Warran isn’t our constituent, he’s our opponent. His sister was quick to label everything he suspected about Torvals as post-traumatic stress syndrome. Which he did not suffer from. It was a human disease. You know as well as I do these particular Torvals will stop at nothing to win next year.

  Speaking of the elections… He heard Skythia’s mental sigh as distinctly as if she’d been sitting beside him, flipping through the two hundreds in The Thousand Kisses and pointing out the good ones. If you’d bond with Princess Priss-Priss, it would raise our cachet.

  I thought you liked her. Skythia had pursued an acquaintance with Anisette independently of him. She said she was keeping an eye on her future sister-in-law since he wouldn’t do it.

  I do, but this is business. Fairies want their leaders settled. The reason we beat the Torvals last time was because they’re single too.

  They’re still single.

  We need the boost.

  He flipped the book away. It smacked the floor with a thump. Then you get married.

  I don’t have a prophesied bondmate, she reminded him stiffly. You do.

  Mating isn’t a political decision.

  Come off it. Everything’s political when you’re Primary. Their mental connection wobbled before tightening again. Even your dreams, brother.

  Those dreams are gone, he said carefully. And the new ones would be soon. One good night of sleep and he’d be back to normal. No more globes, no more nightmares. There’s no need to rush into anything with Anisette.

  If you say so.

  I do say so. He didn’t tell her he’d been attempting to inaugurate the relationship for some time, with minimal results. Skythia would hassle him about everything he’d done wrong.

  His sister hmmed. I don’t know how you can stand knowing she’s with Warran. Of all people.

  The relationship isn’t sexual. There’s been no test. If he’d been holding Skythia’s book, he’d have ripped pages out, which was practically heretical, considering how precious paper was.

  You think it’s going to stay platonic when he hears you have a hard-on for her?

  Embor’s fingers closed into fists. There will be no bond.

  There’d be no anything between my honey and some piece of shit Torval. By Hella, I’d rather get with a leprechaun.

  You probably have. Leprechauns weren’t unsightly, but they were three feet tall and followed a very different social structure than fairies.

  Shut up. You need to put a stop to it. I feel it turning your thoughts red.

  I can’t command her. I’m not her lord. Why did Skythia deride every decision he reached without her input? She was the one turning his thoughts red.

  No, you’re her cowardly bondmate. Look, if you change your mind, warn me first. The bond whammy will bleed through my end, and I wouldn’t want to be in the middle of any important negotiations when you poke your—

  He shut her off with his new shield, made easier by the distance between them. Xerode was at the top of the continent while Cappita was near the Great Salt Bay in the middle. The discomfort of summers in Xerode was surpassed only by the discomfort of winters at the castle of the Seers. But the cold served its purpose—it kept the curious away. The castle’s existence wasn’t confirmed outside Elder Court because it would hinder the Seers’ work to be bombarded by requests.

  When Embor had received his prediction about the Serendipity twins, Anisette had already been a Court trainee, but Talista, whose reputation preceded her, had been refused admission. He’d had Talista’s denial reversed shortly thereafter.

  Shortly after that, the trouble had started.

  Anisette had not caused any of it.

  Yet now, through no fault of her own, she was stuck in a political tug-of-war that involved members of a clan he’d come to hate more than any other. Milshadred, Ulster, Euridyce and Mickal of Clan Torval had nearly murdered Talista and Jake, had nearly murdered him and Skythia, had successfully murdered several members of their humanspace team. To make matters worse, they’d almost incited Jake to destroy the Realm and humanspace alike.

  Then they’d escaped to the depths of humanspace, to a place where magic failed and the spirits didn’t exist.

  They were still out there. Their clansman Warran, guilty of his own offenses, wouldn’t lay another finger on Anisette. Embor hadn’t been studying The Thousand Kisses out of prurience so much as an assessment of what an eight-hundred man meant. Was Anisette’s memory wipe covering something Warran had done? Something Anisette had resisted?

  Irritation sizzled through him like an energy pill. Embor jumped to his feet and paced to the casement overlooking the complex. His room was in a tower, which was how he liked it. Set apart from the rest of the Court. Set above, guarding them. Lights twinkled in several windows. He opened the invisible barrier to let the wind cool his face. Was Anisette still awake?

  He thought she was alone in her room, but his protective wards weren’t spy cameras. Warran had never been in her room. He’d have known.

  Skythia was right. Damn her. How had he tolerated Anisette and Warran’s relationship so long, reassuring himself it was platonic? No matter what the other Elder enjoyed in bed—one hundreds, eight hundreds, or a good, sound sleep—he wouldn’t be enjoying it with Anisette. He wouldn’t be touching her ever again, putting her at risk, raping her mind. That pointless relationship was done. Over. Finished.

  Embor would see to it. He’d tell Anisette his suspicions if he had to. He’d tell her they were bondmates if he had to.

  But first he’d send her somewhere safe. Embor kicked Skythia’s copy of The Thousand Kisses under his bed and accessed his Court map. Combined with his furtive wards, the map verified the princess was alone in her room. He couldn’t bring her here because he hadn’t tracked down his own source of infiltration. If he messaged her, she might deny him. So he transported to her hallway.

  A trainee bundled out of another room, spotted him and dashed down the corridor at an unseemly pace.

  The dormitories were even more of a fishbowl than the rest of the Court. Annoyed, he knocked on Anisette’s door and informed her he needed to speak with her.

  Five trainees crept down the hallway as he waited. None spoke to him, but he could tell they were speaking about him. Anisette forced him to cool his heels, and his righteous fury, for over a minute before she admitted him.

  It gave him time to think. Now he could behave in a civilized manner instead of ranting like a maniac about the Torvals. That wouldn’t support his case.

  “Elder Embor.” Anisette, like the other trainees, wouldn’t meet his eyes, but she did address him. “This is unexpected. Can I help you with something?”

  Her pinafore was askew. What had he interrupted?

  “Inside.” He glanced down the corridor at another pair of trainees inching toward them. “Unless you’d prefer I take us somewhere else?”

  “No.” She stepped out of his way and shut the door behind him. “Is something wrong?” Her brow wrinkled as she nibbled on a fingertip. “Is it my sister?”

  “No, this is about you.”

  And Torval. And himself. But he hoped to complete this evening’s task without delving into specifics. Her vacation would accomplish her separation from Warran without cumbersome revelations. It would give him two weeks to eliminate Warran and decide on his next move with Anisette.

  “What about me?” she asked.

  “Your panic attack. You, ah…” He couldn’t keep his attention on her face. The white fabric of the apron had caught on her chest. He wanted to straighten it.

  Or rip it off, along with the rest of her clothing.

  Again.

  She lifted her chin. “I’m not feeling panicky.”

  He inspected her carefully. Her silky hair was loose around her shoulders, shining like glass. Her eyes seemed unusually bright, sapphire blue. Her lips were pursed into an annoyed bow.

  Then there was the crooked apron. T
he ruffles framed her breasts enticingly. Underneath she appeared to be wearing a green nightgown, thin and sleeveless. He forced his gaze upward to find her cheeks bright pink.

  “Your pinafore is crooked.”

  She checked her front, fingers nimble. “My robe is in the laundry. It had dye on it.”

  “Did I interrupt your sleep?”

  “Not quite.” Her lips relaxed into their standard curve as she finished retying her apron.

  “Good. I thought it best if we concluded our discussion before tomorrow.” He’d made the right choice in showing up unannounced. If he’d contacted her, she’d definitely have put him off.

  “Miaow.” The cat from earlier lounged on the foot of Anisette’s pink bed. Embor glanced across the room to see the black and white feline kneading a familiar brown coverlet while staring at him.

  “Where did you get that blanket?”

  Anisette patted the ruffled edge of her pinafore. “It was given to me.”

  “It’s mine.”

  “Yours?” The horror in her voice was so evident he almost winced. Was she that averse to anything to do with him? “Damn Janelle.” She clapped a hand to her mouth. “Pardon me.”

  “Miaow,” the cat said again.

  Anisette shook her head. “I can’t tell him that.” She went silent for a moment. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why don’t you tell me yourself?” Embor suggested to the cat.

  Anisette twisted her hands together. “He’ll only talk to me.”

  Embor had communicated with felines before. He knew it was possible for cats to speak to him. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Master Fey, why won’t you talk to the Primary?” She grimaced and turned to Embor. “He won’t answer that, but he insists it’s his blanket and you may not have it.”

  “I disagree.” It was Embor’s favorite blanket. He’d had it coated with a costly, flame retardant spell. Sometimes his nightmares had fiery aftershocks. “It’s my blanket.”

  Anisette hastened to her bed and stroked the insolent feline from head to tail. “He says he marked it once, and he’ll mark it again if need be.”