Avery continued to wonder why Eva had been found in Portland. Why had she been tied up in the entire mix? Though the pair had met before, they hardly should have been considered friends. In fact, Eva had expressed her curiosity and disgust about Patrick in the past. But Avery could only come to one conclusion about the entire thing. Patrick had joined the Band. An escaped convict, the Band would be proper if not inviting. Eva confronted Adalyn in Portland—as the Band had done to her father Samuel in the past—but Adalyn escaped in the struggle. Adalyn came to warn Avery about the band but Patrick had stopped her, saved her, because he felt like he owed the woman something.
It was so simple. It was the world according to Occam’s razor. But then Avery couldn’t quit thinking about why Mason had attempted to hide this from her or protect her so bloody much. She felt like she needed to know.
“I’ll give you strawberries anyways. Wonderful aphrodisiac,” Perry randomly chirped.
Torn from her thought process, Avery’s head shot up.
“What?” Avery zoned back in when she heard the words.
“Sweetie, now we all know. Rooming with our Prince? I just wish they’d suck up the flustering over the Prince and make the announcement official.”
Avery’s head spun all over again.
“Wait, what?” she repeated more forcefully this time. Avery technically understood what Perry was getting at. But that wasn’t the issue that she focused on. “Should I even be asking who is considered we all? And what announcement?”
“First, mix.” Perry returned to Avery’s side of the kitchen and clinked the bowl with a wooden spoon. “And you of all people should be telling me about the announcement. You and Mason. Official.”
Something told Avery that Perry wasn’t just referring to the boyfriend relationship. She swallowed thickly and bought a moment by finishing the dough in front of her. When done, she threw it onto the counter like directed and began breaking up the pieces. Avery spoke after she finished one row of her creation.
“I don’t think there’s really an announcement to be made. And quite frankly, I’m not sure why anyone thinks Mason and I were...” Sleeping together? They were just sleeping. She couldn’t quite mention that either. Face flushing, Avery was about ready for the entire conversation to be over.
“I know what this is about. And I wish you wouldn’t concern yourself with old fashioned harpies. We’re a mixed society to begin with. Why people look down on human mates is just idiotic. And they shouldn’t expect anything else from Jericho’s line. Of all the pure-breeds, he’s always been the most open to humans.”
Avery saw her opening for a distraction and snagged it like a pro.
“You mean there are different types of harpies?”
“There aren’t exactly classes if you will. We’re not registered with ID cards or anything silly now, darling. There are just some harpies that are more pure-breed. This really makes up anyone who has been royal in our past. They’re harpie harpie harpie as far back as we can go. Now others have had one or two humans in our lines.
“For most people, you could never tell by looking at them. But it is apparent in some. Pure-breeds are always tall, lean, and thin. Wider wing mast. Then the ones mixed with humans began to lose those qualities over generations.”
Perry didn’t need to finish for Avery to instantly know what she’d meant. Avery had seen it all along but never put the differences in harpies’ sizes into context before. The bulky muscular harpies seemed nothing like Mason and his thin, light physique. Those bulky harpies though had always been the most dangerous, the harpies to fight with, and they didn’t break as easily. Put frankly, they seemed like the better choice when it came down to survival of a species. But she didn’t need to be told how bloodline context worked—the same here as any other society.
“I’m sorry,” Avery said before she could shut up. Perry was obviously one of the human breed, smaller and built more like a real person than a beanpole.
“Hush, honey. Nothing to be sorry about and no more than I have to be for my kind always being so haughty to humans after all. Just don’t believe for a second you can’t marry Mason and have children that are just as worthy of the title harpie as anyone else’s offspring are.”
And it was right back to that. This time Avery didn’t recover as quickly. Hand’s going stiff, she dropped the dough and headed straight for the door. Marriage? Babies? Babies with wings? Only succeeding in making herself sicker, she threw the door open and went straight for the first clearing off of the pavement. Her feet stopped her before she inched toward a crevasse that marked the end of harpie infrastructure on this side of the mountain. Though not massive in size, it dropped into a surprisingly jagged deformity in the mountain—probably harpie made. But unused and empty, it was just a hole now worthy of an unsightly death. Or vomiting into over the thought of winged babies.
“Ms. Zane,” a voice called out just as she got out the first dry heave. Hand to her gut, she threw her hair back and mustered a closed-lip smile. Stern paced over to her in no time at all.
“How are you?” he asked, his eyes sizing her up and down. Hoping she hadn’t turned as utterly green as she felt, she politely nodded.
“Well, good. I’m sorry I was short earlier. Mason shouldn’t make the habit of disappearing without a word to anyone. I’ve now gathered that he’d left to retrieve you.”
There didn’t seem to be a responsible answer to that so Avery didn’t bother giving one.
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“Yes, while I had always intended to support you, Ms. Zane, I must point out that I cannot approve this kind of behavior. My main job here is to cater to Mason’s every need and I control any undue influences in his life.”
The abrupt change in atmospheres between the bakery and the outside left Avery in an awkward state of flux. Was Stern another person assuming she was going to marry Mason and be popping out kids so soon? Did harpies not know what college meant to a human? Standing at his full height with eyes cast downward to even see her, Stern did nothing but radiate authority. She didn’t bring that up now.
“What do you want me to do?” she tried instead.
“I need you to work with me. And unfortunately, outside of Portland, I cannot have you shacking up with our Prince. You’ll need your own quarters until further notice. And we’ll need to introduce you to the public in a proper way before you make any outside appearances with our Prince. This may take much time on its own.”
Now Avery was beginning to get the feeling of being locked in the attic as the reject human. Unsettling to say the least, she stole a glance past him at the rest of the world. Mason wasn’t appearing on any white horse to get her out of this conversation but Perry had popped her head out of the shop. She watched from a distance but apparently wouldn’t approach with an official here. It at least gave Avery some opening.
“I think my biscuits are burning, sir. If you don’t mind.” If she could get out of this conversation, she could consult Mason and get a real feel on what was up. He wouldn’t let them do this. He hadn’t let them yet.
“Of course.” Stern managed to stiffen his already rigid posture. “As long as I have your word that you will work with me.”
“I’ll try,” she gave him.
“And just one more question, Ms. Zane. In all seriousness.”
Attention completely fixated on the harpie again, she waited until he spoke. When he did he said, “I don’t understand you. I do not like that fact.”
“I’m sorry?” She didn’t know what to say to that. And Stern continued to stare her down, now his eyes clearly calculating.
“I barely know who you are. You’ve encountered our kind for years now, but I hardly understand you still. You carry some type of magic that no one can figure out or stop. And you’re motivations. Your actions...”
The air going stale, Avery struggled to find a good gulp of air. The subconscious of her mind knew exactly what he was thinking over. The death o
f Mikhail. The death of Samuel. What Avery had to do with it. For the most part, she’d never spoken to other harpies outside of Mason and he was the only one who’d truly understood her background.
“I don’t know what to say to that.”
Stern stepped forward until only an inch remained between them. He reeked of dust and age; his body gave off no warmth.
“I’m going to keep my eye on you.”
Avery couldn’t pitch another question before Stern walked off but then she wouldn’t have anyways. Perry did finally approach and happily ushered Avery back inside. She’d put Avery’s dough in the oven—possibly after having remodeled the individual pieces—because when they came out they looked oddly perfect for Avery’s work. Perry took care and precious time separating the rows out and placing the warm pastries into a basket. Strawberries and chocolate were already placed at the bottom and gave Avery the hint this was her take home basket.
Night was creeping up quickly now, and while Avery enjoyed the relaxation of the warm building, she breathed another sigh of relief when a knock came at the door. A Guard member stood at the other side. Just as silent as they always were, he only directed Avery outside with a nod of the head. Avery bid Perry a goodbye. The woman’s eyes had actually glazed over. She pounced over, embraced Avery in a hug, and told her they’d see each other again. Outside as she trailed the Guard, the warmth of conversation was prominently absent. The atmosphere freezing as soon as the sun had set didn’t help, and Avery regretted the light sweater.
The harpie moved stiffly and his head never stopped moving. It was surprising someone could seem so taut while in so many different directions. Determined to force conversation, she greeted him and asked for a name. The reply was short initially.
“We’re not allowed to become too involved on a social aspect with anyone. It would compromise our position of absolute protection.”
“I bet you’re also the only one who does that. You can’t go through life so anti-social,” she quipped, assuming the battle was lost.
This Guard was more baby-faced than the rest—likely significantly younger. His consideration showed in his face.
“I am the one who strives to keep the letter of the law to which I was sworn to the most, yes, but my associates socializing with the council proves to be no harm or danger to the monarch.”
Why anyone would talk to Stern for a social aspect, Avery couldn’t understand. She didn’t bother to either. The harpie led her over the side of the mountain to buildings that weren’t initially apparent upon arrival. The trip over was an obnoxiously long one. The terrain grew worse and Avery had to slow. The Guard waited without a word. When they reached the destination they were much more out of sight regardless, hidden under the jagged abnormalities of the mountain side and tucked together. The only harpies that lingered outside wore the clear blue of harpie law enforcement, but Avery bypassed them all with the Guard escort.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To our Prince’s temporary lodging for the night.”
She snorted but still asked, “And everyone is cool with that?”
“Everyone or no one. This is not my choice to doubt my Prince’s decision if it presents no danger to his person. That rests with the council.” The Guard finished just as they reached a door inside. Solid wood, it spoke elegance before she even walked in.
“Have a nice night,” he told her.
She’d stayed with Mason over a million nights before. But she couldn’t resist the thought as she waited for him to answer. Maybe this time would be different.
Nine
The door opened before she knocked and she walked in before being invited. She scanned the bedroom while Mason nodded off the Guard member who had brought her here. The room managed to be elegant without being gaudy, and fancy without being completely unreasonable. The massive bed had a carefully-carved wooden banister and transparent drapes hung down. The carpet beneath her feet was lush with some ignored pattern, and the cream-colored walls reminded her of home.
“So, the Guard doesn’t feel the need to watch you sleep too?” Avery asked after finding her most important observation. The room was empty besides them.
“I’m allowed some privacy. But they must stay within earshot in case I do call for them.” Mason’s voice was lowered, indicating exactly the level the Guard probably couldn’t hear. He crossed the room making it easier. She mimicked the quieter tone quickly.
“Speaking of calling for help, your buddy Stern had a nice talk with me,” she said and earned the full weight of Mason’s green eyes. “These people are worried about me being dangerous to you but they still let me tag along?”
He smiled at that, for the first time, turning his attention to the basket of food she brought. His nose twitched as he dug through the pastries—they all smelt as sweet as they tasted. Then at his questioning face, she gave him the ‘go nuts’ hand gesture.
“I’m sure they wouldn’t if they had much of a choice.” He then explained as he picked through the pastries, “You see, the Council has much power to designate day to day operations of the monarch. They are advisors and representatives. But they aren’t the ultimate decision maker—they aren’t the royal bloodline in charge. They need me and if they want to get their way, they want me to like them. To give deference to their decisions. So they’ll let me win on little battles. Like you, even if they thought the position was better suited by someone else.”
“Well, thanks for sticking it out for me,” Avery chirped as she dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed. Mason’s gesture probably deserved more kudos than her statement gave, but she moved on quickly. “So is that why he’s trying to introduce me to the public? Make the press like me?”
“Like that’d be possible.”
She glared at Mason’s snort.
“Kidding.” He held his hands up. Well, he was at least half-kidding. She was still human after all. “Yes, it’s much more difficult to fight an uphill battle. Understand that while the monarch exerts absolute control, there are many more peasants than there are rulers. And to some extent, we must keep the peasants happy. Keep them confident and believing the monarch can provide for them. That’s why appearance is very important. But we will make them like you.”
She gave him a more genuine smile this time. For once being Mason and Avery would be a positive thing in the harpie world. Mason finally moved and sat on the bed with her.
“We’re going to be going back to the Island tomorrow. We should sleep,” he said pointedly.
“Do you usually sleep with your nice clothes on?” She made a gesture towards the distinctive thick and precious fabric that made up some type of uniform.
Mason suddenly looked at her and his close proximity became very noticeable.
“Do you wanna help me take them off?” He offered her a teasing smile.
Mason always had the knack for striking the buttons that earned a perfect rise from her. He waited for the reaction too. Recognizing it now though, she resisted the urge to blush or look away. Avery forced herself to meet his eyes with her best poker face.
“Dare me?” She arched an eyebrow.
That threw Mason off guard. He leaned back as if he’d been hit by an invisible blow. He wouldn’t dare her. There was nothing about her tone that indicated she’d even remotely back out. Fueled by a sudden success at the game, Avery took it another step—a step she’d learned from Leela.
She dropped back onto the bed certain the cotton shirt would flutter up to reveal her naval and the tight denim would ride down low on her hips. The air tickled her skin but she refused to acknowledge it. Pushing her fingers through her hair as if to straighten the messy locks, she complained. “These sheets are way too soft.”
With her eyes closed, she couldn’t hear a single reaction for a full minute. Losing the ability to be patient, she cracked her eyes open and glimpsed at Mason through half shut lids. She wasn’t exactly prepared for what she saw.
Mason had stripp
ed his clothes off—or at least the shirt and belt. Only pants covered him now and they ran down on his hips.
“Lemme see.” He slid onto the bed crawling on it until he hovered directly above Avery. Her brain completely threatened to turn off, but she desperately held onto the lingering thoughts. Mason was close enough that she could feel his breath, postured that with one small shift, he would be on top of her. But that’s when she did notice it. His lips tugged at the edges. Still. Teasing. Avery nearly hissed in frustration.
Since when did Mason get this impression of her being the first one to wimp out? Or was his ego really that big? She stayed determined to take it down a notch. She took a breath and held it in her gut to keep her stomach from so easily jumping out of her throat. She couldn’t remember being this nervous for a while—even with her crazy life.
Windswept (The Airborne Saga) Page 7
