He raises an eyebrow.
“I mean, I like you,” I amend. “I just don’t…like you, like you.”
It’s like we’re twelve years old all over again.
“I understand.” He offers his arm. “Now let’s try to control it long enough to hobble to the garden.”
We follow our path, and I try not to trip over any exposed roots or rocks. Jonathan sees us when we break free of the forest, and his face shadows with concern.
“Madeline?” He abruptly leaves Jenna. “What happened?”
“She broke a heel.” Rafe pushes me just a little further from him, pretending to look uncomfortable when he spots my husband.
“I was taking a walk,” I say, glancing at Rafe, figuring out what his angle is. I raise my voice just slightly, making sure it carries to the gazebo. “This nice…kitchen boy…found me and aided me back to the estate.” I let out a fluttery, guilty laugh—one that I hope sounds like a cheating wife who desperately wants to appear innocent.
“Kitchen boy?” Rafe whispers under his breath.
“I haven’t had as much practice at this as you,” I hiss back.
Jenna joins us, looking from me to Rafe, frowning. “You were taking a nature walk in heels?”
Her tone is nothing less than condescending.
I smile, really disliking her a whole bunch. “I can do all kinds of things in heels.” I glance at my faux husband and give him a come-hither look. “Just ask Jonathan.”
The Heron raises her brows and looks at my poor, broken shoe. “Apparently all kinds of things except walk through the woods.”
I was doing just fine until Rafe came along, thank you very much. But seeing as I can’t tell her that, I bite my tongue and slip off the other boot, stepping onto the smooth, paved walkway.
“Let’s get you back to the room.” Jonathan holds out his hand, playing the part of the doting, naive husband. I take his hand and step to his side.
Then, to really sell it, Jonathan pulls out his wallet and flicks Rafe a hundred. “Thanks for the help.”
Rafe pockets the money. “Anytime, sir.”
Knowing Jenna’s studying us like the nosy little fowl she is, the dark knight then lets his eyes linger over me in a subtly seductive way—like he's thinking all kinds of illicit thoughts and can't wait to get me alone again.
He does it well enough it makes even me uncomfortable, and I know this is a game. I take a step closer to Jonathan. “Can we go inside now?”
“Of course.” Without so much as a warning, the Griffon leans down and scoops me into his arms. I let out a tiny yelp and throw my arms around his neck, gaping at him.
Jonathan’s chocolate eyes meet mine. They crease at the edges, shining with amusement. “Wouldn’t want my bride to get a thorn in her foot.”
Jenna scoffs under her breath—an excellent sign. Not only is she jealous, she now hates me.
“Over the top much?” I whisper as Jonathan carries me away.
He chuckles. “No one can say I’m not committed.”
I glance back at Rafe. He watches us leave, his arms crossed and his expression enigmatic.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Why is it you always seem to end up carrying me around?” I ask when we’re almost to the balcony terrace that looks out over the garden.
“Because you’re either hurting yourself or busting your shoes. Either way, it usually has something to do with those wicked heels you insist on wearing.”
“I was wearing ballet flats in Tahoe,” I point out, though technically I was barefoot when I sliced my foot open, running from the demented pixie.
He pauses, meeting my eyes. “Fine, it’s not the heels. But you have to admit you’re very good at finding clever ways to end up in my arms.”
“This was Rafe’s doing.”
Jonathan raises his eyebrows, curious.
I scowl. “He snapped my heel.”
He lets out an incredulous chuckle. “Brave soul. I would think that goes in the same category as ordering you tea instead of coffee.”
Not that it isn’t enjoyable being carried around by my handsome not-husband, but I grow extremely conscious of his hand on my thigh through the lightweight fabric of my skirt, so I tap him on the shoulder. “I think it’s safe to set me down now.”
“Oh, you want down, do you?” He gives me a grin that’s nothing short of wicked.
“Jonathan, don’t you dare—”
I squeal as he pretends to drop me. After I catch my breath, I point at him, my finger close to his face. “Not funny.”
“Come on.” He flashes me an innocent look that would have grandmothers everywhere handing him cookies. “It was kind of funny…”
And he does it again.
“Jonathan!” I laugh despite myself, clutching his shoulders to keep my balance. “Put me down.”
“Hmmm…no.” His smile grows.
I squirm in his arms, trying to twist away, but there’s iron under that designer shirt. And he’s enjoying himself a little too much.
“Why do I get the feeling you have siblings you grew up torturing?”
“Because I did,” he says matter-of-factly. “Seven of them.”
The only child part of me recoils. “Seven?”
“And every one of them a girl.”
It seems he might be done with the game, so I relax in his arms. “You don’t just have seven siblings…you have seven sisters?”
“Alanna, Cortina, Georgianna, Salina, Katerina, Morgana, and Fauna. Ironically, Fauna married a Deer, and they have a five-year-old daughter named Bambi.”
“Are you serious?” I ask.
“Unfortunately.”
“Where do you fit in there?”
“I’m the baby.” He smirks. “My parents kept having children until perfection was met.”
We’re on the balcony now, and it’s been swept recently. Jonathan could let me down. But I ignore that for now.
“How many of you are Griffons?” I ask.
“Just me.”
That’s not all that surprising considering it’s an incredibly rare gift.
“What about your parents?” Magic passes through blood, just like genes. In order to get a certain set of magical traits, you must have it in your family.
“Mom’s a Sparrow,” he answers. “Dad was a Dragon.”
A Passeridae and a Draconem. The first has trace amounts of magic, and the second is a master of the elements. It’s an interesting pairing.
“The Griffon must come from your mother’s side then?”
Because the Sparrow guild is for all those who are only moderately gifted, no matter their magic type, anyone of any faction can have a Sparrow child. Just like anyone can have an Ostrich—a child as free of magic as a human.
Jonathan nods as we near the garden doors—two massive French-style creations that lead out to the balcony.
“How far back was the last Griffon?”
From what I understand, there can be several in every generation, or there might be centuries between them. It depends on the bloodline.
“If our family records are accurate, about a thousand years ago,” he says, looking ahead. “My distant grandfather was a Griffon.”
“What faction did your sisters end up in? Are they Sparrows or Dragons?”
Even with the doors open, it’s warmer in the house than outside. The sun shines brightly, but there’s a definite chill in the air. Jonathan carries me in a few feet and then sets me down on the rug just past the entry.
“They’re all Dragons,” he says, which makes sense because elemental magic is such a dominant gene. “All except Morgana, who’s a Sparrow. Dad said she didn’t practice enough.”
He laughs, knowing it doesn’t work that way—everyone knows it doesn’t work that way—but Dragons are stubborn.
And I should know. I dated one, even contemplated marrying him. Now the reptile is marrying my former best friend.
“So let me get this straight,” I say. �
��You grew up in a household with a bunch of girls who can wield copious quantities of fire?”
“And ice, water—”
“Did they ever get close to leveling the house?”
Jonathan laughs, heading in the direction of the stairs. “Just about every week, especially since Cortina has a raging temper, and she favors lightning. Thankfully Katerina and Fauna specialize in earth.” He gives me a sidelong glance. “You could say they keep her grounded.”
“That was so cheesy.”
“Really?” He walks in front of me, going up the stairs backward. “I thought it was pretty good.”
“You were wrong.”
He grins, making his eyes crinkle, which in turn makes his handsome face even more appealing—if that’s even possible. “You still want me.”
I shake my head, rolling my eyes, trying not to laugh because that will only encourage him.
We head to our room so I can change my shoes, and once the door is safely closed behind us, I say, “You and Jenna looked cozy.”
“So did you and Rafe.”
I turn, setting my hands on my hips. “Do you think he and I pulled it off?”
Jonathan shrugs. “I believed it.”
It’s a strange thing to say, especially when he’s frowning at his phone, only half looking at me.
I realize that the sight of his “wife” coming out of the forest in a state of disarray with one of the mansion’s waiters might have been a blow to his ego.
“I’m sorry, Jonathan. I was just playing the part,” I say softly. “We were trying to make her feel indignant on your behalf.”
He looks up, smiling with his eyebrow half-cocked like he can’t figure out why I’m apologizing. “Yeah, I know. You did well.”
Maybe I imagined it after all.
I turn from him, walking toward the balcony. “What do you know of the Obsidian Queen?”
The question startles Jonathan enough he doesn’t answer right away. After a moment, he asks, “What do you want to know?”
“Specifically, I want to know about the Obsidian Knight.”
“Rafe.”
I look over my shoulder, frowning, and then I nod.
Jonathan tosses his phone on the bed. “I don’t know much.”
I look out past the forest, to the mountains beyond. It must have snowed recently because there are patches of white up high. It will stay there until spring. “Our magic keeps trying to manipulate us.”
He sits on the bed, likely as exhausted as I am from our sleepless night. “Manipulate you how?”
Sighing, I turn back to face him. “It keeps trying to pull us together.”
The Griffon frowns, not understanding.
“Like romantically, and yet it’s not, because I don’t feel that way about him. This is more…”
“Physical,” Jonathan supplies, raising his eyebrows, his eyes bright with humor.
“Yeah.”
He leans back, resting his hands behind him, pressing into the soft mattress. “And I assume that’s a problem for you?”
I cross the room and sit next to him, sighing when I sink into the comforter. “He said that in the past, things went very badly when the Obsidian Queen and her knight became involved.”
Slowly, he nods. “The last Obsidian Queen raised the army that led us to destroy the thresholds. I don’t know if she had a knight or not.”
“How do you raise a dark army?” I ask myself.
He nudges me. “Is that a general question or research?”
I flash him a look, and he smirks, letting me know he’s only teasing. Together we sit in silence, me lost in my thoughts and Jonathan in his. After a few moments, I look back at him. “How do you destroy a threshold?”
Jonathan looks a tiny bit uncomfortable, any trace of mirth leaving his face. “You unravel the magic that holds them together, weave it in a knot, make a total mess.”
There’s something about the way he’s looking at me that catches my attention. I study him. “You have to see magic to be able to do that.”
“You do.”
“It was a Griffon,” I murmur. “A Griffon destroyed the thresholds, trapping the queen and her army on the other side.”
The knight’s chocolate eyes lock on mine, but he doesn’t respond. Slowly, it clicks into place.
“Jonathan, you said the last Griffon in your family lived about a thousand years ago.”
Coincidence? Maybe, but it doesn’t feel like it.
The knight slowly nods.
“Was it your ancestor? Did he unravel the magic?”
The man by my side looks away, giving me a noncommittal shrug. “Well, that’s what the records say.”
I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me, making it difficult to catch my breath.
Jonathan looks back, and his frown deepens. “Are you all right?”
“Your distant grandfather and my distant grandmother were basically sworn enemies.”
At that, a smile lights his face, and he leans closer. “Sweetheart, your distant grandmother was basically everyone’s sworn enemy.”
I laugh, but I still feel unsettled. Something is starting to feel very ominous. What are the chances the three of us would be tossed together by accident? And if we weren’t, what does that say about Gray and Eric? How are they connected?
“You’re thinking awfully hard about something,” Jonathan says after a moment.
“What if…” I lick my lips, scared to say what’s on my mind—scared because I don’t want to end up with a knife in my chest. “What if it’s time the thresholds were opened?”
“What?” Instantly wary, he shifts away.
“Never mind.” I shake my head. “I need more sleep.”
Suddenly, he takes me by the shoulders, leaning in close. His dark brown eyes lock on mine, concern shadowing them. “Don’t talk like that, not ever. I don’t care what your blood or your magic says, you are not one of the Entitled.”
Slowly, I nod.
“We’ve separated ourselves from Aparia to keep humans safe, to create a safe place to raise our families—as we have for generations. You open those thresholds, and there will be turmoil.”
Unable to help myself, I press forward, needing him to listen. “But how do we know that? It’s been a thousand years, Jonathan. A lot changes in a millennium. And there’s a lot of darkness still trapped on this side—I know.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “It likes to visit me.”
He snorts out a laugh, and then he raises his hand, brushing a stray hair away from my face. I barely notice; I'm too trapped in my thoughts.
Princess of shadows—that's what I am, that's why they come.
“You don’t look like a princess of shadows,” he says, answering my inner ramblings.
I go still, realizing he’s touching me, processing the fact that his fingers are brushing across my temple. His skin is slightly calloused—a strange thing for a man as pretty as Jonathan.
“I prefer strikingly handsome to ‘pretty,’ thank you very much,” he says, easily picking up the thought through our connection. “And I’m not exactly a stranger to physical labor.”
Unbidden, I picture Jonathan, shirtless and sweaty, standing in the mountains, fixing livestock fences in the heat of summer, wildflowers growing in the meadow beyond.
He smirks. “That’s certainly a flattering picture.”
I should pull away, but his touch is light, and he’s not pushing the connection. And it feels good, this friendly contact that doesn’t demand, doesn’t expect, doesn’t want.
“Do they scare you?” he asks.
The monsters, the creatures, the beasts.
“A little,” I admit. I think of the fairies from earlier. There was something incredibly spooky about them. And gargoyles—they still terrify me. Thankfully, they’ve kept their distance since the night on the coast.
Jonathan frowns as memories flit through my mind.
“I just wish I knew what they wanted from me,” I
say, letting my mind wander over the last few months, happy to share this with him. “I wish I knew how to make them leave me alone.”
The Griffon frowns, watching the memories like they’re a documentary made just for him. He shifts closer, finding a more comfortable position.
My mind wanders to the first time Jonathan was in my head, the first time he gave me a piggy-back ride through the streets of Tahoe. Specifically, the closeness. His hands on my bare thighs. My chest pressed against his back.
Jonathan makes a dark noise of surprise in the back of his throat.
“Sorry,” I say, jerking away, my cheeks growing hot as I flush with embarrassment.
He stands abruptly, looking incredibly uncomfortable.
“We should…” He shakes his head, probably trying to clear his thoughts. “The wine tasting. Yes, we should go to the wine tasting. Make an appearance.”
If he could read my mind right now, he’d know how sorry I am for making him uncomfortable, how sorry I am to lose the amicable touch that I didn’t know I’ve been craving.
He’d also know how incredibly toad-like I feel. What is wrong with me? He’ll cozy up to any woman alive, but he completely freaks out when I come a little close to the line.
But that’s my problem, I suppose. Maybe I should ask myself why I keep stepping up to that line in the first place.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“You’re supposed to spit it out,” I whisper to Jonathan, laughing under my breath. “Otherwise you’ll be trashed by the time we’re finished.”
He smirks, tips another wine sample to his lips, and downs the whole thing.
“Did you even taste it?” I ask.
We’re on a local winery’s massive lawn, and they have tables and canopies set up for the event. Many of the guests from the mansion are here, along with people staying in various places around nearby Glenwood Springs.
“I’m not really a wine kind of guy,” Jonathan says after he sets the tiny glass on the table with the rest of the discards.
“Then why did you suggest we come?”
Because you had sexy thoughts about him, and he didn’t like it.
Sure, Jonathan’s comfortable holding me around all these people, keeping his hand on my waist or back, pretending we’re still newly married, still clingy and overly affectionate.
Princess of Shadows (Obsidian Queen Book 2) Page 13
