“Sometimes servants are better family than your own. My nanny was…” he paused, and shook his head. “I’m not even sure how to describe her. She was elvatian, but she didn’t have much power. Despite that she protected me from most of the vices of the world. She told me stories of far places.” He seemed far away, as if thinking of the tales of his youth. He sighed. “I’ve always thought she might have had some lesser fae blood mixed in, maybe some brownie or sylph, certainly she didn’t have enough magic to have made it to the level of a lady.”
“I’m confused. I thought you inherited being a lord or lady.”
“Yes and no.” His left hand wandered up and stroked the curve of her breast. It was gentle, and soothing, and extremely erotic. “You inherit power from your parents, just as you have from yours, but you hold the rank you were born with based on your Gift. Even the most powerful commoner could work his way up to being a Lord of the Court. We value deeds.”
“Could they be queen or king?” She was curious, but mostly she just wanted to keep him talking. It was weird. She was leaving in the morning, she had no ties to him, and he was an elf. But for the first time in weeks, maybe even months, she felt secure in his arms.
“Theoretically. They would have to be very powerful. The monarchy of the courts is held by power. If you are not powerful enough, the court will pull you down.” His voice had dropped low, and something in his words made her shiver.
“What about you? What position do you hold?”
His hand stopped its idle stroking. “At this point, I’m not sure.” He pulled away and curled up on his side. “I think I’m getting tired now, let’s get some sleep.”
She frowned. She wasn’t sure what had just happened. They’d been all cozy, and now he was across the bed and his breathing was getting deeper. She could ask, but it would just make it more awkward. Well she was leaving anyway. There was no need to get close.
Kian waited until Bryanna was asleep before pulling her back into his arms. She sighed and spooned in, and the physical contact, front to back, heart to heart, skin to skin, sent ripples of sensation along his nerves. He held onto her, enjoying the feeling of just being with a woman.
He hadn’t known how to answer her question. He had his body back now—he could challenge the queen again. He was just as powerful as she was and he could find just as powerful backers and allies. If he tried, he could take the court back. He could be king.
Now that the curse was broken he had decisions to make, followers to find, battles to plan.
But the one battle he didn’t have to fight was with Bryanna. She didn’t know he was the prince and she never had to know.
CHAPTER NINE
Kian woke for the first time in fifteen years with his legs entangled with a woman’s. He couldn’t stop smiling, knowing his face stretched with the satisfied look of a man who had what he wanted. The fire had gone out, leaving the rest of the room chilly and dark, and he reluctantly pulled away from Bryanna’s warm, naked body. He didn’t want to waste a moment now that his curse was lifted. He wanted to get outside and see the sun.
He pushed his fingers until they gripped the headboard of the bed he shared with his new lover, extending his long legs out over the edge of the mattress. All the aches and pains he’d lived with day-to-day for the last fifteen years had fled.
He rose, calling for light to come to his hand, but none came. His smile faded.
“Kian? Where are you going?” Bryanna muttered, and rolled over, taking the blankets with her.
“Go back to sleep. I’ll light the fire.” Carefully edging across the room, he made his way past the furniture to the cold fireplace. He tried again, this time calling fire, a simple child’s magic he couldn’t even remember learning.
Nothing happened.
“Fuck.” He shut his eyes tight in the darkness, straining to pull fire from thin air.
“Kian?” The bedcovers rustled behind him.
“Go back to sleep.” He blew out a breath and smoothed the anxiety out of his voice. “I’ll have it in a minute.”
He banged around the mantle and found a candle. Resorting to the witch’s cantrip it had taken him months to learn, he sang under his breath while simultaneously doing the awkward searching for energy beneath his feet that witches did every time they worked a spell. He pulled a reluctant trickle of power in and forced it up and out of the palm he held over the wick.
“Fire, fire, burning bright
Fire, fire, save thy light
Fire, fire, come to me
Fire, fire, burn-ing-ly”
He held his breath. Sweat beaded on his skin as a tiny flame flared and the wick caught. He placed the candle back on the mantle and went to work loading the fireplace with wood and kindling. Once he had the fire burning, he tugged the cord that would bring Beezel.
Bryanna watched him from the bed, her face a study of confusion.
“I’ve rung for Beezel,” he said. “Are you hungry?”
“Starved.” She stayed where she was and tugged the comforter up high around her shoulders.
Wrapping a blanket around his body, he forced a smile. “I’m going to need to find some clothes.” He didn’t know why it was important that she smile back, but when she did, something relaxed inside of him. He crossed to the bed. “I still can’t believe it.” He sat on the edge of the mattress, held out his hand, and wiggled his fingers.
Bryanna leaned over and rubbed his hand. “Believe it.”
Pleasurable tingles chased down his skin. He stroked her arm, pleased when her eyelids dropped low in bliss. “Beezel will be here any minute, but it should take him a while to bring breakfast back. We’ll have time for another round.”
She shook her head no. “Much as I’ve enjoyed the past few hours, I’ve wasted too much time. I need to be going.”
The clenching in his abdomen felt odd and uncomfortable. He didn’t understand why her words made him anxious. He’d gotten what he wanted from her. “Surely you’ll want to eat?” he asked.
“I suppose,” she said, indecision and worry etched on her face. “But just food, there really isn’t enough time for anything else. My family needs me.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Come,” he called and turned. Beezel entered, his lips pressed together in a dour expression. The gnome’s face went blank as he took in Bryanna, the bed, and Kian seated next to her.
“You rang?”
Kian eyed the gnome’s determinedly placid face. “Aren’t you curious as to how I came to be this way?” he asked.
“No, Sire.”
“You’re not?”
“It’s not my concern, Sire.”
The gnome’s gaze shifted to the floor. Kian moved fast, rising to catch Beezel by the arm. “It isn’t your concern? Aren’t you supposed to be concerned with everything I do? Don’t you report to the queen? Won’t she want to know this?”
“Yes, Your Highness, but we made a deal.” The gnome pulled away, and Kian let him go.
“Yes,” he said slowly, watching Beezel edge to the door. “We did.” The gnome avoided his eyes, and Kian narrowed his. “We’ll need breakfast. And I’ll need some clothes. We must have something that will fit me.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Beezel ducked into a bow and exited, pulling the door closed behind him.
“Something’s not right.” Kian frowned. “Did you see him? He tried to hide it, but he was trembling.”
“I didn’t notice.”
“No? Well, maybe it’s just me.” He threw off his blanket and crept under the covers. “If he were going to run to the queen, he would have done it by now. He must be waiting for her to summon him. That will give me a small advantage.” He should chase Beezel down, make sure he wouldn’t be telling the queen, but Bryanna shifted next to him. Her blanket dropped from her breast, and her nipple puckered at the cold.
Fifteen years of abstinence once again reared its head. “We have time for one more round, what say you?” H
e nuzzled her neck, and she tensed.
“I have to go.”
He stroked her arm and butterflied a string of kisses down her neck.
“You’re incorrigible.” She pursed her lips. He added seductive tongue twirls to his kisses, and she sighed relaxing back into the pillows. “I should go.”
“You need to eat,” he whispered as he looped his hand about her waist and pulled her close. “We have the time.” Her full, soft breasts brushed his chest. He kissed her, and she moaned, opening her mouth, her body softening under him. He pressed in.
Pain tugged inside his gut. He flinched.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He rubbed his abdomen and the tugging faded. “It’s fine.” He leaned in and kissed her again, deepening his exploration of her mouth and tracing her tongue with his. She whimpered and kissed back.
The tug came again, this time sharper, more insistent. He pulled back. “Something’s happening.” He quested within. His sense of time, which had been caught up in the spell, was back. At least he had that. The rest of his magic would come in time. He sighed in relief. “It’s just the dawn coming.”
He reached again for Bryanna. A tingle raced across his skin.
“Damn.” He examined his hands, stretching and flexing his fists. They looked fine.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” The tingling increased, growing into a vicious, prickling irritation that spread from his fingertips, along his arms, and down his torso.
“Kian, your aura, it’s rippling.”
“It hurts.” He threw back the covers and placed his feet on the cold floor. A horrible, familiar pain ratcheted through him. “Damn, damn, damn.” He tried to stand up, but as he put weight on his feet, he tumbled to the floor. The burning reached his bones.
“What’s going on?”
He heard the fear in her voice, but there was nothing he could do. “It’s happening again,” he rasped and surrendered to the wave of pain. Bones and joints popped out of place, his skin stretched and grew, and hair flowed over his body. As he passed out from the torture of his mother’s curse reinstating itself, the only thing that ran through his mind was rage.
Bryanna huddled on the bed and gripped the blanket between white-knuckled fingers. Kian slammed the base of the bedside table with his paw, scattering books and a small dish to the floor. She flinched away, hitting the headboard, as he snarled and climbed to his feet.
He grabbed a book and threw it across the room, knocking a tapestry to the floor. “Fucking bitch! Will I never be free?” His massive roar spun the chandelier’s delicate crystals, and it was all she could do to stay on the shaking mattress as they sang overhead.
Kian went wild.
Candlesticks and tables flew through the air, crashing and shattering on the stone walls and splintering into flying, edged shards. Bryanna curled up into a tight ball, afraid to move and draw his attention. The storm of his anger grew, and she drew on her Gift throwing up shields to hide behind as his aura grew black, the beast took over, and he spewed out waves of rage.
He slammed his fisted paws against the wooden door over, and over, and over again before scrabbling for the latch, his razor sharp claws digging deep into the wood. Unable to get a grip on the gnome-sized hardware, Kian clawed and scraped until he gripped the door with both paws and tore it off its hinges.
Three hobgoblins poured into the room. Kian cursed, kicking and bouncing their shrieking forms back into the hall before uttering one final roar that echoed long after he’d fled.
Bryanna sucked in huge gulps of air in the sudden silence and fought the tears choking her throat.
Her pathetic Gift was the reason he was back in this monstrous form, unable to control his temper. No matter what she did, she couldn’t do more than create a panacea for anyone’s pain. She’d tried, she’d really tried this time, but it hadn’t worked. Maybe if her Gift was stronger, she’d be able to cure him, but instead, he’d only had part of a night’s peace, and now he was angrier than before.
Beezel stepped into the room, and surveyed the bloody gouges in the drunkenly tilted door. “Should I serve breakfast in bed, miss?” He lifted the loaded tray and arched his thin eyebrows, giving even his flat face a sardonic quality.
She eyed the wreckage of the table and chairs. “Sure, put it on the bed.” Her stomach was in knots, but she’d need the energy. It was time for her to leave Cairngloss and its master behind and search for her missing family.
Beezel laid the tray, set with breakfast for two, on the bed. “I take it the curse is not lifted?” His voice seemed calm, but his slender shoulders shook.
“Apparently not.”
He poured a cup of tea, added milk, and handed it to her. “But you made a good start.”
Somehow, he didn’t look happy at the thought. She wondered again which side he was on, Kian’s or the queen’s. Could she put any trust in him at all? Kian suspected him, but she wasn’t sure how much she trusted Kian. They’d developed a good working relationship over the last few weeks, and sometimes, she even caught a glimpse of the fun-loving man he used to be. But there had been the other times, times when his frustration and anger had shone through. And she wasn’t sure, if it came down to it, which person he’d choose to be. The sexy, intelligent man she’d spent the night with, or the angry beast of desperation.
Beezel picked up a chair and tried to balance it on its remaining three legs, but it kept falling to the side. “How long was His Highness, um, normal?” he asked.
Normal. Long, muscular, pale limbs. Hot seeking lips. Glowing violet eyes. Her center clenched. Last night’s sex with Kian had been far from what she’d had with any of the normal guys she’d been with, and she didn’t think she’d ever be the same. Now, he was again lost in the curse, and it was her fault.
“I told him I couldn’t do it.” She stared into the steamy cup of tea. “What’s my sad little Gift against the power of a queen’s curse?”
Beezel reached into his pocket, his hand fisting under the fabric. His mouth opened, and she thought he was about to say something. Instead, he pulled his hand out of his pocket, closed his mouth, and pressed his rubbery lips back together. Straightening up, he gave her a small nod, and said, “If you need anything else, miss, please ring the bell.” And turned to leave.
“Beezel, I’ll need my clothes back.” She’d fulfilled her part of the bargain with Kian. She’d tried. And she’d failed. Now it was time to go.
He stilled. “What clothes, miss?”
“My shorts and tank top. They must be clean by now.”
Beezel turned back to face her, his flexible face strangely wooden. “I’m sorry miss, those clothes have been destroyed.”
“Destroyed?”
“Yes, miss. The first day you were here. His Highness said you wouldn’t be needing them again, as you would not be leaving.” He crossed the room to a large wardrobe in the corner that had escaped the wreckage and opened the doors. “He had me procure new clothes when I went for supplies yesterday.” A riot of satins and silks spilled out of the wide doors.
Bryanna’s mouth gaped. She shook her head. “I can’t travel in those.”
The little gnome’s face went blank and he headed for the door.
“Beezel?”
He paused and turned to face her, his alien grey eyes with their slivered pupils seemingly filled with pity. “I’ll come back in an hour to fix the door.” And he left.
Bryanna stared at the covered dishes and delicate tea service on the tray. A fat tear slid off her cheek and landed on the silver teapot, running down the smeary reflection of her face.
“He never thought I was leaving,” she whispered. It shouldn’t hurt. He didn’t know her. Her own family didn’t give her any credit. She’d always been the youngest, the baby, the one to protect. But Kian had convinced her with that liquid voice. He’d sounded like he’d had enough faith in her to give her faith in herself, and she’d believed him. But he
hadn’t believed in her after all. He’d purchased new clothes for her, he’d planned on her staying because he knew she’d fail.
A heartbreak’s worth of tears built up inside her chest.
She swallowed them down. She had to get out of here. With Kian back in animal form, he would never let her go until she’d killed herself trying to cure his curse. And after this morning’s cataclysmic disaster, she knew she would never be able to do it. She’d better go, without saying goodbye.
Bryanna ransacked the wardrobe, flinging expensive, gauzy gowns across the room, she hastily searched for something—anything—that would do to travel in. She had no idea of where she’d be going or what she’d be facing, but none of these clothes were fit for anything besides being a pampered princess in this wreck of a palace. They only confirmed her conclusions. He’d never intended for her to leave.
She’d seen the agony in his eyes just before he’d fled the room. If he hadn’t been intending to let her go before, there was no way he’d let her go now. No matter what he’d pledged.
Settling on the least puffy of the dresses, a sturdy, gold brocade with narrow sleeves and a slim fit, she got dressed. It took far longer than she wanted, her flying fingers tangling in the yards of fabric, tripping over each other in the still unfamiliar acts of lacing and hooking the fasteners. Couldn’t Beezel have found something with a zipper?
Fifteen minutes later, hair braided, wearing the sturdiest of the slippers, and a fur lined cloak, she was ready to go. She took one last look in the broken mirror above the dressing table and saw a stranger.
It wasn’t the elegant dress or the jagged crack running through her reflection’s face, it was the tilt of her chin and the determination in her eyes. Or desperation. She wasn’t sure which. She’d never been the one to make the decisions, but now, she had to depend on herself. And as the only MacElvy here, she’d decided. It was time to cut her losses and go find the rest of her family.
Prince by Blood and Bone: A Fantasy Romance of the Black Court (Tales of the Black Court) Page 9
