Hidden Game, Book 1 of the Ancient Court Trilogy

by Amy Patrick

  I couldn’t go over them—that would have been certain death—but I’d loved to lie on top of them, staring at the endless blue sky, listening to the ocean waves crashing on the rocks below. I’d stay up there, identifying office towers, cathedrals, bridges, and mansions in the clouds.

  Sometimes I’d bring my drawing pad and pencils and sketch out those structures in detail, trying to bring them to life. Or later on, to sketch her.

  A sick feeling rocked my stomach as my mind’s eye filled with the soft curves of her face, the shining curls of her dark hair, the flirtatious glint in her eyes as she laughed at my lovesick schoolboy antics.

  A long time ago. A life I’ll never have.

  Swamped by a fresh wave of exhaustion, I decided not to go inside after all but fell into one of the cushioned lawn chairs. I stared up at the starry sky and listened to the fountain’s relaxing, watery tune. Relished the peace and quiet and solitude.

  It was broken all too soon.

  Hearing footsteps approaching, I cursed and slouched in my chair. Beautiful. I’m hiding in my own yard. Alessia must have spotted me after all and come after me. I mentally prepared an excuse to explain why I was avoiding her.

  A small figure passed my chair. It wasn’t my betrothed, or my over eager mother, or even a servant. This little person hadn’t even seemed aware I was there.

  And she was little. I thought at first glance she was a child—until she’d stripped off her dress, and I spotted the curves of her hips, the shapes of her bare legs in the moonlight. Then she shocked me by beginning to climb the vine-covered wall.

  She’d simply marched right past me and begun climbing as if that was a normal activity in the middle of the night. In a tank top and tiny panties. As if there was somewhere she had to be and she was going to scale the wall, and when she reached the top, fly away. I was tempted to keep quiet, keep watching, to see if she really could.

  But then this was not some fairy tale creature. She was real. And she was human—I knew that from her size. A human who would very likely die if I didn’t intervene.

  So I’d interrupted her climb—and my peaceful escape—and spoken up. And now here we were, face to face. Though, that wasn’t exactly accurate. Her face was down somewhere near the level of my sternum. She was literally the smallest full grown person I’d ever seen.

  “So what did he do?” I asked again. “Flirt with another girl? Forget your birthday?”

  She stared at me as if she’d never seen a man before. “Why are you so convinced my boyfriend did something to me? Maybe I don’t even have a boyfriend.”

  She wasn’t just tiny. She was beautiful—like the starlings that used to hover outside my window, eating myrtle berries from the shrubs in the garden. I'd loved to watch them, with their delicate, perfect heads, their iridescent feathers glistening in the afternoon sun.

  This girl seemed to possess the same sort of uncontainable energy. She was jumpy and nervous like a little bird, too. I wanted to set her at ease. I wanted her to feel comfortable with me. I wasn’t sure why.

  It’s what a good host would do, right? Make his guests feel at home?

  I felt a small, guilty smile curve my lips. “You do have a boyfriend—back there in that stuffy, boring drawing room, which I don’t blame you for escaping, by the way,” I purred in a tone that always put women off their guard. “If you weren't on the outs with him, if he didn't do something to piss you off, then you'd be inside the castle with him instead of out here with me, cavorting in your underwear beneath the stars.”

  Instead of calming her, my answer seemed to unnerve her further. She took a step back, her fingers fluttering at her sides. Though her body language betrayed her discomfort, her eyes held a spark of defiance, and her small chin tilted up as if she were trying to match her insignificant height to my own.

  “I’m not with you. I’m having a conversation with you. There’s a big difference.”

  Most people kissed up to me. I was rich. I was famous. And in the Ancient Court, I was royalty. This girl didn’t seem to have gotten the memo.

  I liked it. Her sassy attitude combined with her miniature size—and her surprising choice of undergarments—added up to the most enticing little package I’d seen in a long time. Too bad she did belong to someone else.

  Glancing back toward the lighted windows of the castle, I wondered which one of our visitors had brought her. It couldn’t be the Dark King. One of his band members, perhaps? I’d heard some members of the American courts, both Light and Dark, had actually chosen humans as their bond-mates.

  A ridiculous notion for someone like me. Such an uneven bonding would never be tolerated here in the Ancient Court. For my counterparts in the New World, I supposed it was fine if it made them happy. I could certainly see how a human like this one could make you very happy, if even just for a while.

  I’d never met a girl like her—so different from the females of my own kind and from the human girls who showed up at my football matches in droves, begging me to autograph their cleavage. And vastly different from the bleary-eyed automatons that populated the north wing of the castle. This girl was clearly not under Sway. There was a directness in her gaze, a clarity in her eyes as she stared up at me with that defiant set to her tiny jaw.

  For a moment I was tempted to use my glamour on her, to delve inside and unearth her greatest weakness. Then I’d know exactly what it would take to make her abandon her principles—and her American boyfriend. I’d know just how to tempt her.

  I shook my head and let out a low laugh. Tap the brakes there, big fellow. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d poached someone else’s girlfriend, but I should at least find out which one of them she belonged to before making a move. It wouldn’t do to start an international incident because I was turned on.

  “Of course. You are right,” I said. “So then, what are you doing out here? Practicing your mountain climbing for the Alps? Preparing for Girls Gone Wild, Corsica edition?”

  Darting her eyes away from me and toward the house, she shrugged. “Maybe I needed some fresh air. What are you doing out here skulking around in the dark?”

  I laughed again. “What do you think I’m doing?”

  She tilted her head in an appraising way. “Well, you’re not smoking because I didn’t smell a cigarette. Maybe you’re sneaking away from your duties in the castle.”

  I snickered. How right you are, piccola.

  “Or maybe you’re a burglar, and you’re waiting out here until everyone in the house goes to sleep before you creep inside and take all the valuables. There’s some pretty sweet stuff in there. In fact, someone stole my passport and my money today. Maybe it was you.”

  My head jerked back. “It was taken from your guest suite? Have you informed someone?”

  “No, I… I didn’t know who to talk to. I don’t really know anyone here.”

  I shook my head in confusion. “What? How long have you been here?”

  “A few days.”

  “Well, if your boyfriend brought you here only to hide you away in his quarters for his own amusement, I can see why you're leaving him. If I had a girl like you, I’d show her off.”

  Yes, she was human—unacceptable for mating by Ancient Court standards, but she was a beautiful one. And we weren’t that easily offended by foreign customs. Whichever American had brought her along, he needn’t have hidden her.

  “Oh… well, I…” she stammered.

  “Come inside with me. I'll introduce you to my father. He’ll assign someone to find your passport and money.”

  “Your father?” Her eyes grew huge in her small face. “So you are his brother.”

  I huffed in amusement. She really didn’t recognize me. “Whose brother?”

  “Nicolo’s.”

  “Nicolo has no brother.”

  I could tell when it finally hit her. Her eyelids closed in mortification. “Oh my God. You are Nicolo.”

  I smiled, offering my hand. “Nic.”

 
; Instead of taking it, she backed away a few steps. “Of course. I’m… I should have recognized you sooner. But you’re in—oh right, I guess you took a plane or a helicopter or something. You’re so… well, you look different on TV.”

  “Better or worse?” I winked. Couldn’t help it. Her flustered jabbering was so cute I started reconsidering that girlfriend-poaching thing.

  “Um… I don’t know. You’re a lot… cleaner. Um, that sounded bad, didn’t it?” She licked her lips and looked down at her feet before lifting her eyes to mine again. “Listen, I don't want to bother anyone. I'm sure I just lost my wallet. It will show up soon, I'm sure.”

  “Don't be silly. You're our guest. And you'll need help finding it. It's a large house. Besides, if there is a thief, my father needs to know about it. Come on. I'll walk inside with you. We’ll tell him about it together.”

  The girl side-stepped and rocked foot-to-foot, looking like she might break into a run.

  “No. No thank you. I'm sure you must be very busy. Or tired. Or something. Good game by the way. I'll tell my... boyfriend about it. Tomorrow. And he can help me. Ok, then. It was nice… meeting you. And thanks for the warning about the…” She gestured toward the courtyard wall.

  “We didn’t, you know.”

  The rocking motion stopped. “Didn't what?”

  “We didn’t actually meet,” I said. “You know who I am, but I don't know who you are.”

  “Oh.” She bit her lip. “Why does it matter?”

  That was a good question. Why did I care? I lifted my shoulders and let them fall, surprising myself with the answer.

  “Because… I’d like to see you again.”

  She blinked several times in rapid succession. “Well, I… I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  “It will if I want it to. I’ll tell your boyfriend he must bring you along for the next dinner or outing.” I grinned at her invitingly. “Tell me your name.”

  The silence stretched between us. I began to think she was going to refuse me—which didn’t happen often. Never, actually.

  “Macy!” A severe female voice called out into the courtyard, causing us both to jump. The floodlights clicked on in a harsh glare, and the imposing figure of Dominique, the house manager, came into view.

  I shuddered, thrilled she hadn’t yet spotted me standing in the shadows. I’d never liked the woman. Maybe my parents enjoyed the scraping and bowing subservience, but it was obvious to me she wasn’t sincere about it. If one of us was ever stabbed in our sleep, she’d be at the top of my suspect list.

  “There you are,” the woman shouted and stalked down the path toward Macy. Macy. Such an American name. Short and cute—like her.

  “What are you doing outside? You know you're supposed to stay with the group.”

  Macy’s face blanched at the woman’s rude words, her shoulders lifting to bunch tightly around her neck. “I… got lost?”

  I drew in a breath, preparing to lambaste the servant for her abysmal manners. No, we didn’t usually allow our guests to wander about the castle unescorted, but speaking to one that way was unforgiveable, human or not. I stepped into the artificial light that now flooded the courtyard and onto the path, coming to a stop between Macy and Dominique.

  The house manager stopped abruptly. “Signore Buonaccorsi! Forgive me. I did not know you were at home. Did you bring this girl outside then?”

  “Bring her?” I asked in confusion. “No. I...”

  “Then I do apologize.” She stepped around me and clamped a hand on the girl’s upper arm, jerking her violently away from me.

  “Come with me, troublesome girl,” she snapped. “She will not bother you again Signore Buonaccorsi. Trust me. Please forgive me. I promise you, she will cause no further trouble.”

  My mouth dropped open as her words finally registered, and all the breath left my lungs in an audible gust. Now I understood the human girl’s reluctance to meet my father, to report her stolen passport. And why she’d been climbing the garden wall.

  She was not a guest of our American visitors.

  She did not have a boyfriend in the Young Court.

  Dismay caused a sinking sensation in my belly. “She's in my father's fan pod then?”

  The house manager stopped pulling Macy toward the house for a moment in order to turn back and answer me. “No signore. She is yours. A new arrival.”

  Macy’s voice rose above Dominique’s, drowning it out and causing the older woman to tighten her iron grip on the girl’s struggling form.

  “You can’t keep me here, you know! It’s kidnapping. I’m an American citizen. You can’t do this.”

  Dominique slapped a large hand over Macy’s mouth, muffling her shouts. “You will be quiet or Doctor Schmitt will make you quiet.”

  As she was dragged away, the girl’s eyes stayed trained on me. They were wide and dark, and in them I saw a mixture of fear and accusation.

  I stood frozen in place, my heart pounding wildly. She was a member of my fan pod. I wasn't sure why the new knowledge was such a surprise—and why it filled me with a tingling sense of unease.

  The strange sensation was slowly replaced by another feeling—a much more pleasant one—as I replayed the house manager’s words, turning them over and over again in my mind.

  She is yours, signore.

  She's yours.

  I smiled, something inside of me blinking its eyes and stretching, coming awake for the first time in a long time.

  She's mine.

  4

  Macy

  I was wrong. They could keep me here.

  At least for now. Two foot thick walls and heavy doors with iron locks would see to that. I’d tried the door to my room in the wee morning hours and found it locked—from the outside. Ella’s bizarre statement had been absolutely accurate. We were not allowed to leave.

  What the hell is this place?

  Shivering, I pulled my hoodie tighter at the neck, though it was May and presumably quite nice outside. Maybe it was all the stone and the thick, leaded glass windows that kept the temperature here in the dining hall—and throughout the castle—perpetually chilly.

  The girls were all sitting and eating their breakfasts at long wooden tables, chatting quietly with each other. I’d been ordered to sit at the end of this one alone—for which I was grateful. I was in no mood to hear about all the wonders of Nicolo Buonaccorsi.

  Dominique was in her usual place at the front of the room, keeping a watchful eye on us as we ate. What I’d perceived before as someone being an attentive hostess, I now recognized as the behavior of a jailer. Or a pimp. The possibilities went downhill from there.

  I was so stupid to have come here, and even stupider for allowing myself to get distracted by Nicolo last night. Once again my impulsive tendencies had come around to bite me in the butt. I’d honestly thought I was going to just waltz right out of what amounted to a fortress. Ha.

  I should have kept climbing—ignored him and kept going. I would have been free right now and carrying on with my European backpacking adventure. Of course, if what he’d said was true and there was nothing but a hundred foot drop on the other side of the garden wall, then my journey to freedom would have ended right there. Painfully.

  It had probably been a lie. There seemed to be plenty of those around here. Our “keepers,” as I now thought of them, had promised us daily we’d meet Nicolo when he hadn’t even been on the island until last night. And they were making girls submit to a physical before even meeting him, when it was obvious he was perfectly healthy.

  More than healthy, in fact. I’d never seen anyone who looked so… good. Even among all the unnaturally beautiful people who populated the castle, Nicolo stood out. At the very end of our unexpected encounter, when he’d stepped toward me and into the light, I’d literally gasped at the sight of him up close.

  The TV cameras hadn’t done him a bit of justice. His deep-set hooded eyes were a rich, dark brown. His cheek bones and jawline were
pulled right from those male-model-worshipping pages on Pinterest. His olive-toned skin was flawless, and he had the most perfect lips I’d ever seen on a man.

  Anyway, I didn’t buy the we’ve-got-to-keep-him-healthy rationale. There was something else going on here. Something weird. Maybe even something criminal. Yes, the other girls seemed happy, but… it was hard to explain. Something wasn’t right.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t make it.”

  The soft, high voice at my side made me jump. Spinning in my seat I saw the little girl—Olivia, the house manager had called her—the one who always stared at me. She’d slipped into the chair next to me. Once again I was struck by the clarity of her round, blue eyes. That was the difference. When she looked at me, it was like she really saw me, whereas the other girls here seemed to look right through me.

  “Make it?” I said.

  “You were trying to escape the fan pod. Right?”

  Fan pod. Nicolo had said those words as well. I’d heard of fan pods before, of course. I just hadn’t realized I’d been living in one for the past several days. Many of my friends back home in Missouri had been hoping to join a pod before they were suddenly disbanded all across the U.S.

  Like fan clubs on steroids, fan pods were an immersive experience, allowing young girls—and some guys, too—personal interaction with some of the world’s hottest actors, musicians, athletes, and even politicians.

  My friend Tiffany had been particularly devastated when the announcement went out about their closure. She’d proclaimed herself “insanely jealous” when she heard I was heading for Europe, where fan pods still existed in several countries.

  I’d never been interested in joining one. If it wasn’t so alarming, it might have been kind of funny that I’d ended up in one anyway. Had they been like this in America, too, with the members essentially on lockdown? I couldn’t believe anyone would put up with it voluntarily.

  I answered Olivia’s question with one of my own.