The Wish Granter (Ravenspire Book 2)

by C. J. Redwine

  Before long, Ari had thoroughly searched every room but Teague’s study, which was also locked. Other than the empty pipe box in the wall and another yellowed copy of Magic in the Moonlight: A Nursery Primer on a small shelf in the back parlor, the only remarkable thing she’d found was that Maarit was a complete failure at housekeeping.

  There was dust on every surface. Candle wax had dripped from sconces and hardened on the floor. And Ari was positive the rugs hadn’t been taken outside for a good beating in at least a year.

  This is what came of hiring a housekeeper old enough to have seen the birth of Súndraille itself.

  Ari used her finger to draw a line through the dust on the mantel in the front parlor and wondered how much time she had left before Maarit returned. A quick glance at the curio shelves showed her that all the fae relics seemed to be asleep. If she was going to risk snooping where it really mattered, now was the time.

  She’d start by seeing if she could pick the lock to Teague’s study. Unlike the enormous lock on the door to Teague’s personal quarters, the lock to his study looked relatively simple. Ari had learned the skill of opening simple locks with a hairpin when she was eleven and Thad took to locking himself away after he’d endured yet another bout of Father telling him he had to work extra hard, be extra perfect to make up for his bastard birth.

  For a moment, the pain of missing Thad and the pain of missing her mother flared into something unbearable. Something that stung her eyes with tears and filled her limbs with heaviness.

  She blinked away the tears and made herself move away from the mantel before she could collapse in front of it and cry. Missing her family wasn’t going to get her any closer to Teague’s secrets.

  Dusting the house, however, was.

  Minutes later, Ari had collected a soft cloth and some lemon oil from the broom closet and a hairpin from her hair. To really sell her story in case she got caught, she started dusting in the back parlor. The lemon oil was nearly impossible to open—further proof that Maarit hadn’t properly cleaned in ages and should probably retire—but soon Ari had the parlor gleaming and smelling like a citrus orchard. The next logical room to clean was the room beside it, which just happened to be Teague’s study.

  Far be it from Ari to be illogical.

  Pausing outside the locked door, Ari held her breath and listened. Rain fell in soft waves against the windows. The house creaked and settled, but there was no sound of breathing. No faint hiss as one of the relics turned to look for her.

  She was alone.

  Telling herself that that fact should make her happy instead of miserable, she straightened the hairpin and slid it into the lock. In seconds, the door was open. Bending the hairpin back into shape, she slid it into her hair and entered the study.

  It was depressingly normal.

  An enormous desk dominated the room. Neat rows of quills and inkpots lined the top of the desk while equally neat stacks of parchment were centered on its surface. An entire wall was lined with bookshelves and an enormous floor-to-ceiling cabinet whose doors were nearly as big as the door to Ari’s bedroom, and there were a few knickknacks here and there, but nothing that said, “Look at me, for I am the key to Teague’s undoing.”

  She rounded the desk, polish in hand, and studied its contents. The top desk drawer contained pots of ink, a few spare quills, and a dagger for sharpening them. The bottom drawer held ledgers whose cracked leather bindings looked at least one hundred years old.

  She turned her attention to the stacks of parchment on the desktop. One stack was blank. One looked like shipping orders and bills to be delivered to out-of-town customers. And one was a stack of contracts like the one Thad had signed, except that on these the spaces for the debtor’s name, the price of the debt, and the bloody thumbprint were blank. Teague’s signature was already in place, however. The thought that he needed to be prepared for granting dozens of wishes in a short space of time made Ari feel sick.

  Still, this could work to her advantage. She could take the contract and read the stupid thing as many times as it took to find a loophole. She grabbed the top sheet, folded it quickly, and then turned her back to the door so she could stuff it down her bodice and into her chemise. The parchment smelled faintly like the woodsy scent of the fae tea Maarit had given her on her first morning at the villa.

  She’d just finished adjusting herself when something in the far corner of the room caught her eye. Frowning, she took a few steps forward so she could see by the dim light of the closest window.

  A bronze statue, nearly tall enough to reach Ari’s waist, showed a woman with a wolf’s head, bird’s talons for hands, and goat hooves for feet. Dust clung to it, but there was something familiar about it. Something Ari had seen recently.

  She took another step toward it, dust cloth raised, and it hit her.

  This was the woman whose picture was in Magic in the Moonlight: A Nursery Primer beside the poem about the monster whose source of power was a secret she’d buried at her birth.

  If this statue was in Teague’s study, locked away from prying eyes, then it meant something to him. Maybe it was a gift from someone he cared about, and he thought keeping it in here was safest. Or maybe it was piece of the puzzle Ari needed to solve. She needed to study the poem again.

  She took another step toward the statue, and its eyes flew open. Ari froze beneath its blank, white gaze just as a voice behind her said, “What are you doing in here?”

  Ari spun around to find Maarit standing in the doorway, glaring.

  TWENTY-NINE

  “I ASKED YOU what you were doing in here.” Maarit crossed the threshold, and Ari’s pulse roared in her ears. Behind her, the wall began breathing in quick, shuddering gasps. Ari shivered and refused to look at it.

  This was a disaster. If Maarit thought Ari was spying on Teague, she’d tell him, and then Ari would lose everything. Desperately hoping her story would hold up, Ari started talking.

  “I’m cleaning,” Ari said in the most matter-of-fact voice she could summon with her heart pounding and her knees shaking. Marching back to the desk, she picked up the rag and lemon oil to prove her point, trying hard to move without making the parchment hidden in her chemise rustle.

  Maarit’s eyes narrowed. “I do the cleaning.”

  That was debatable.

  Ari gave her a little smile. “I know you do. But you were nice enough to go to the market for me. I wanted to do something nice in return.”

  “This door was locked.”

  Ari frowned. “It opened right up.” It really had. Teague should invest in better locks.

  Maarit furrowed her brow and turned to examine the doorknob. “It was locked. I’m sure of it.”

  Ari shrugged. The parchment in her undergarments rustled, and she quickly reached to straighten a stack on the desk, making plenty of noise as she did so. Maarit looked up. “Get away from those! You aren’t supposed to be here.”

  Ari took the rag and the lemon oil and stepped away from the desk. “I’m sorry. I started in the back parlor and thought I’d dust the entire main level, one room at a time. The door opened for me, so I thought it would be all right.”

  “Empty your pockets.”

  Ari blinked. “I’m wearing a dress. I don’t have pockets.”

  She just had her chemise and a desperate hope that Maarit wouldn’t think to check it.

  Maarit went toward her—the woman could move quickly when she was angry—and said, “You were told never to come in here uninvited.”

  “I was?” Ari tried for her best I-am-so-confused expression. Maarit didn’t look convinced.

  “Your first morning here. I told you the rules. I was very clear.” Anger lent strength to her papery voice.

  Thank the stars Maarit had given Ari the lecture about off-limits areas after she’d nearly knocked her unconscious with the magic fae tea. It was the only scenario that would lend credibility to the princess’s story now.

  Ari shook her head, her pulse
pounding. “All I remember is drinking that tea and everything getting hazy, and then I fell asleep. When did you tell me any rules?”

  Maarit stared at her for a long moment and then mumbled, “After you drank the tea.”

  Ari bit her lip. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t supposed to come in here. It won’t happen again. Do you want me to finish dusting since I already started?”

  The older woman glared. “I want you to get out.”

  Ari complied, and Maarit locked the door behind them.

  “Are you going to tell Teague?” the princess asked, her voice trembling.

  “Why shouldn’t I?” Maarit snapped as she brushed past the princess. The faint scent of overgrown forests and sun-warmed soil followed her.

  Ari had a sudden, sickening fear that Maarit was fae too. Either that or the woman needed a drink of magic fae tea now and then just to keep her (seriously old) self alive.

  Choosing her next words with care, Ari said, “Because I’d like to tell him myself. I have nothing to hide, but I have plenty to lose. I want a chance to explain myself before he decides to just end my life over a misguided attempt to help you with housework.”

  Maarit shrugged and walked away. “Dust if you want to. Come bake a cake if you want to. Might as well do it now since you’ll most likely be dead before morning.”

  “That’s not very reassuring,” Ari muttered.

  Whatever reply Maarit might have made was cut off by the sound of someone pounding on the villa’s front door.

  Maarit stiffened, and Ari glanced out the nearest window as if that would tell her why, after five days of absolutely no one but Teague, Maarit, and the villa guards coming and going from the house, someone would be on the porch.

  “Where are the guards?” Maarit whispered, flexing her wrinkled hands as though she could somehow stop someone from getting into the villa.

  “Are we expecting someone?” Ari asked, as wild hope tangled with fear within her.

  Maybe Sebastian had finally found her.

  Maybe it was an enemy of Teague’s.

  Maybe it was—

  “No, we aren’t.” Maarit’s voice shook as whoever was on the other side of the door pounded on it again. “Curse this body. I can’t fight, but—”

  “Stay here,” Ari said as she pushed in front of the housekeeper and ran down the long hallway. “Or better yet, hide.”

  “Don’t open that! No one was invited. We wait until the boss returns, and then—”

  Boom, boom, boom. The pounding reverberated throughout the main level.

  Sebastian would be subtle. Careful.

  That meant whomever was at the door wasn’t a friend to Ari and wasn’t a friend to Teague.

  The irony of having to defend the home of the monster she wanted to kill wasn’t lost on Ari.

  “I’m not going to open it.” Ari rushed down the hall and skidded around a doorway into the library. “I’m getting a weapon. We have to assume the guards are out of commission. We also have to assume that whoever wants in badly enough to batter down the door won’t hesitate to rip off a shutter and come through a window.”

  “What are you going to do with a weapon?” Maarit demanded as Ari snatched up a thin, delicately wrought sword that rested in a dusty glass box.

  “I’m going to use it.” Ari met the older woman’s eyes. “Go hide, Maarit. I’ll do what I can to protect you until Teague gets home.”

  The housekeeper glared. “Why would you protect me? I don’t like you.”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do. And I don’t like you either. Now go hide.”

  Without waiting to see if Maarit was going to comply, Ari crept back down the hall and into the front parlor. Rain still fell in thick, misty sheets. It was impossible to see anything out of the parlor windows except indistinct blurs.

  Would the person on the other side of the door try to come in through the parlor windows? Or the sitting room on the other side of the entrance?

  Maybe she should just shut the doors to both and shove a heavy piece of furniture in front of the doorways to block them. She glanced around for anything that could make that plan work—the claw-footed chair with the ugly floral fabric? She doubted she could wrestle it through the doorway in time to use it from the outside of the room.

  She’d have to go into the entrance hall and find something there.

  Creeping out of the parlor, Ari scanned the entrance. There was an umbrella stand, a coatrack, and lanterns hanging from brackets on the wall.

  “Teague!” someone yelled on the other side of the door, and Ari’s breath caught in utter surprise.

  She knew that voice. She’d thought when he came for her that he’d be subtle. Careful. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she’d hear Sebastian pounding down Teague’s door.

  The sword clattered to the marble floor as she ran for the door. Her shaking fingers fumbled with the lock twice before she managed to unbolt it. She threw open the door.

  Sebastian stood on the porch, his hair plastered to his head, his clothes dripping wet. There were bruises and cuts on his face. His dark eyes found hers and held.

  For a heartbeat or two, they stared at each other, and then he said quietly, “Princess Arianna.”

  She launched herself against his chest and wrapped her arms around him. Damp from his clothing soaked the front of her dress as she clung to him, her body trembling from head to toe.

  His arms slowly came around her, and he gathered her so close that she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear. She wanted to tell him that she’d missed him. That she was so grateful to not be alone any longer. But there were no words to describe the way the hollow loneliness within her filled with warmth at his touch. She held on to him with desperate strength and cried.

  He rested his cheek on the crown of her head and said softly, “I told you I’d find you.”

  She gulped for breath and pulled back to look into his eyes. “How did you do it?”

  “I followed Teague’s carriage the night you were taken.” He was staring at her as if he was trying to memorize her face even as he let his arms drop to his sides.

  “That was five days ago.”

  He looked miserable. “I had to do some things before I could come here.”

  “What things?”

  He shook his head. “Things that would make Teague trust me enough to let me stay here at the villa with you.”

  “You’re staying?” Her knees threatened to give out as she stepped back to give him the space he needed. She’d thought Sebastian had come to see if she was all right. It hadn’t occurred to her that he would find a way to stay.

  “If Teague will have me. I think I’ll make a pretty convincing case.”

  Hope was a desperate, painful thing fluttering in her chest, but it was followed swiftly by the harsh slap of reality.

  Sebastian wasn’t contracted to Teague. He hadn’t made promises that would cost him his life to break.

  It wasn’t fair to expect him to stay with her just because he . . . Wait.

  “Why would you want to stay here?” Every word hurt to say, but she said them anyway. Convincing Sebastian that he wasn’t obligated to her was in his best interest, but already the hollow space in her chest was starting to hurt again.

  “Because you’re here,” he said simply.

  Three simple words, but Ari felt as if he’d lit a torch inside her heart.

  “But your job at the palace—”

  “I quit.”

  “This is dangerous,” she said.

  “I’ll risk it.”

  “Teague might get mad and kill you the moment he sets eyes on you.”

  “I’m betting he won’t.”

  She swayed toward him, and stopped herself before she touched him again without his permission. “What if he expects you to sign a contract?”

  Sebastian closed the distance between them in a single step and held her gaze. “Then I’ll sign it.”

  �
�Sebastian,” she breathed as he hesitantly raised a hand to gently wipe away her tears.

  “Yes?”

  Her lit-torch heart spread heat along her veins until she thought she must be glowing with the wonder of it. “You’re touching me.”

  “Yes.”

  “On purpose.”

  Worry filled his eyes, and his fingers tensed against her cheek. “Should I stop?”

  For the first time in five days, Ari smiled. “No.”

  He gave her his crinkle-eyed smile in return, and for one glorious moment, nothing existed but the steady patter of the rain and the boy who’d followed her to the lair of a monster and who was willing to risk everything to stay.

  Then from behind Ari, Maarit said, “The boss is going to want an explanation for this.”

  THIRTY

  SEBASTIAN DROPPED HIS hand from the princess’s cheek as a woman old enough to be his great-grandmother shuffled toward them, her wrinkles folded into a fierce glare. He’d been so relieved to see the princess unharmed, so caught up in the wonder of being able to quiet the panic as she touched him, that he’d temporarily lost track of his surroundings.

  He was in the heart of his enemy’s kingdom. Every word, every gesture he made mattered. Instantly, his expression hardened into the face he showed on the streets of east Kosim Thalas.

  The princess spun to face the woman and said, “If you sneak up on me one more time, I swear by all the stars that I won’t give you a single piece of chocolate cake. And, trust me, Maarit, missing out on that would be a big mistake. Unlike you, I know how to use butter to my advantage.”