by JL Madore
The violent keening of metal cut through my scream and the world fell away.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Easy Princess. Take a couple deep breaths.”
I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids wouldn’t obey. Instead, I lay still, letting the deep male voice calm the chaos in my mind. Almost without thinking about it, the rush of water inside my head dialed down to white noise. I breathed through my nose, the spice of the man’s cologne and the sweetness of fresh coffee filling the room.
My stomach rolled. “Where . . . am I?”
“You fainted,” someone huffed. “Right in front of two hundred people.”
My mind pieced together the past few hours, my sibling’s judgment, passing through the portal pond, coming to Attalos . . . my lost past.
“A little compassion, Princess,” the man said, as two warm fingers pressed against the inside of my wrist. “To discover the man who bred you at the moment of his execution would shock anyone.”
The hollow thud Balor’s head made when it landed in the catch-basket triggered a violent writhing in my belly. A cold sweat broke over my skin and I rolled to the side.
Freya squealed. “Oh, that’s disgusting. Do get up, so we can get out of here.” Skirts rustled and she flitted to the other side of the room.
I blinked, my head hanging forward, my watery eyes locked on a pair of stylish charcoal dress shoes splattered with taco nachos extra jalapeno. Oh gods, I’d puked on the shoes of a total stranger. Steeling my insides, I forced myself to sit up and . . . holy gods.
Highbornes notwithstanding, this guy in grey slacks and a crisp white shirt was hotness personified. Not a pretty-boy. He was all hard, masculine lines and strong features. His sure grip secured my shoulders and held me over the edge of the settee. “How are you then, Princess. Better?”
He righted my position, propping me against the backrest of the gold velveteen seat and squatted down beside me. “Can I get you a drink?”
I accepted the handkerchief he offered and wiped my eyes and mouth. “Yes, thank you. Something strong. Sorry about your shoes.”
He chuckled and stepped away. “I’ve suffered worse indignities. Don’t worry about that.”
A clink of bottle kissing glass rang out and then a tumbler with amber liquid pressed into my palm. Whiskey burned its way down my esophagus and warmed my insides as I tipped my head back. “Again,” I said, holding up the empty glass to my host with the loose brown waves. “And thanks.”
“Not a problem.” he topped me up and set the bottle on the dainty side table.
“Where are we?”
“One of the Queen’s townhouses,” he said. “It was close when you collapsed and I have a key. Master Constable Estes has gone to fetch you a carriage. He should be back any time.”
I glanced to the front window of the parlor. It was full dark now, the swirling pink sky of the afternoon killing gone and forgotten. I ran a shaky hand down my leg until I found the nylon hilt of my Guardian, sheathed to my thigh beneath lavender silk. I had no intention of plunging it, though I would muster the strength if needed. My double-edged blade functioned more like a messed-up security blanket.
“And who are you?” I asked, tipping back the remaining whiskey.
“Rowan—”
“The carriage is here.” Freya whirled over, grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me half staggering off the settee. Before I could think to object, we were across the foyer and through the door. Unsteady as I was, I had visions of tripping down the steps and taking a header right into the large circular fountain in the center of the posh courtyard. Thankfully, I managed to avoid joining life-sized bronzes of the Fates and escaped at least one humiliation for the evening.
“Love, is it, Princess?” Rowan’s silky timbre had me glancing over my shoulder. The guy leaned casually on the jamb of the townhouse doorway and crossed his feet at the ankles like he was posing for a GQ cover. “Well, it certainly wasn’t Compassion, was it? Pleasant evening, Princess Grace. I hope you feel better.”
“Lexi,” I said, lifting my arm to return his wave. “Please, call me Lexi.”
The carriage was more covered Jet Ski than Cinderella’s coach. The Master Constable propped a steadying, black boot on the resin edge and helped Freya and then me inside. His ebony gaze was intense, his touch too familiar yet polite.
I ducked under the tasseled cloth canopy and sat in the molded leather seats as the vessel pitched and righted itself. I was numb. My head sloshed as our transport swung into the canal proper.
Everything around me seemed foreign. Had I really been here before? Had I walked these streets as a little girl? Why couldn’t I remember my childhood? Even now that I was learning about my past, I had no recollection of the time before Reign took me in at Haven.
Reign. My stomach rolled again and I gritted my teeth. I wanted my dad more at that moment than I ever had. But he wasn’t my dad. My dad was that nice man who just—I cut off that thought and covered my mouth with the handkerchief fisted in my hand. I hadn’t realized I still had it, but was thankful. It carried Rowan’s cologne on it and I focused on that sexy-spice until the fall-apart threatening to overtake me knew enough to stand down.
“Would you like to be dropped at the main entrance or the private residences?”
Freya looked me over and huffed. “Are you serious? I can’t introduce her to the Queen looking like she’s going to vomit on her. Take us to the residence.”
“As you wish, Princess.”
I drew a deep breath of warm sea night and sighed. “Does it really matter what I look like? After twenty-four years, wouldn’t she want to see me regardless? I’m her daughter.”
Freya laughed and shook her head. “No. You’re her offspring.”
The carriage lurched back as we sped between two manned guard towers and neared the castle. The metal walls of the royal residence looked slick and foreboding against the gleam of the mountain stone. Moonlight spilled through the dome above, illuminating a natural phosphorescence of the stone and causing it to glitter like the tunnels of Dragon’s Peak.
Gods, it seemed like a lifetime had passed since Castian sent Jade and me to release the Highbornes from exile. What would they be doing now? Had they realized I was missing?
The canal widened and we merged with the arching waterway that encircled the front of the bronze palace. And again with the black armored guards. “What’s with all the military force? Are there security issues I should know about, Estes?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Freya said. “Really. Who raised you?”
My fists clenched, aching to strike. “A great man and fearsome warrior—Maximus Reign.”
Freya looked at me like I was clueless for answering. Obviously, she wouldn’t give two shits about who raised me unless it benefited her somehow.
Master Constable Estes, however, cast me a knowing look and my heart ached. Maybe even in this hidden realm, my father’s name meant something. He was a legend in the Realm of the Fair. A legend. And I just walked away from him and everything he’d ever done for me.
“Finally.” Freya said as our carriage rocked to a stop. She stood and gathered the skirt of her gown. With the Master Constable’s arm at her elbow she stepped out of the boat and under the canopy of the covered dock.
I followed her lead, a little less coordinated because my head was spinning and I was fighting another trip into hurlsville after our water travels, but I think I pulled it off. “Thank you, Master Constable.”
He let go of my arm and smiled. “You are most welcome. And Princess, I am sorry your evening turned out as it did. It was . . . unfortunate . . . what happened.”
Unfortunate. I straightened my skirts and joined Freya at the residence entrance, my mind and body at war. The little girl in me wanted to ball up like a kitten and cry, but the warrior in me wanted blood. I needed to stab someone. Kick someone’s ass. Give me a Scourge raid to attack or a training session with Savage and I could work some of this off.
How could I have lost two fathers in one day?
CHAPTER FIVE
“Forgive me, Princess. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
I focused a sleepy gaze at the servant girl placing a tray on the dresser, a candle lighting her way. Last night I’d dropped like a rock the moment Freya left, but when images of guillotines and disappointed siblings morphed into agonizing wails and screams for justice I woke and couldn’t face dreaming again. “I wasn’t sleeping.”
“I am Elani. Clothes have been provided in your dressing room. If you have need of anything else, it would be my pleasure to serve you.” The little waif bowed, the golden light of her candle illuminating her as she ducked out in the hall without another word. She reminded me a little of Aust’s mom, always skirting the shadows of Jade’s home, invisible as she delivered a tray of food.
I pushed away all thoughts of Haven and sat up, stretching out some of the night’s kinks. Without a window in the suite, there was no way to gauge the time. The only thing I knew was that I couldn’t lie around any longer. The glorious Golden Haze had worn off, my back was aching, my nerves were thrumming, and my head was spinning. If I didn’t get moving, I might actually peel my skin off my bones.
I would meet my mother today. My mother the queen.
My stomach knotted, the muscles still sore from last night. I revisited Freya’s disgust as I puked on the Queen’s royal hardwood and laughed to myself. I think she got more than she had bargained for yesterday.
Poor Princess Love.
Princess. I sighed. I’d always loved it when Reign called me Princess. It made me feel special. Choosing it as my nom de guerre when I became Talon had been natural too. At Haven and with all my friends, I was Princess. Somehow yesterday that changed. Being called Princess here was almost a slap to the face. From the looks of the people in the city crowd, I had a feeling the last thing I wanted was to be one of their Princesses.
As my feet hit the plush carpet, I leaned over and clicked on a lamp. Maybe Freya was the exception. Maybe the other Princesses were nice, normal girls. They would be my half-sisters not my twin, but that was still good, still a family connection. I scanned the gold-leafed, silk strewn room looking for my bag of clothes. There was no sign of it.
I hadn’t been carrying anything when Freya dragged me out of the townhouse. I bet my stuff was either still there or lost in the courtyard somewhere. Damn. My Jimmy Choo boots were in that bag. Shit. Iadon made me that battle-vest and I’d be damned if someone else would palm my blades.
With new purpose, I walked the mile to my dressing room and opened the double, leaded glass doors. Lavender assaulted both my nostrils and my vision. Wonderful. My life had a theme. Ignoring the invasion on my olfactory glands, I took a lookie-loo in the two dozen drawers built into the wall. Lace, silk, tulle, chenille, more lace . . .
Gods doesn’t anyone workout here?
I grabbed the lavender silk robe from the hanging bar and smiled as I shrugged it on over my black, leopard print underwear. For now, the matching bra was lost with the rest of my clothes. After tying the robe closed I checked to make sure it was long enough to cover the tip of my dagger. Just in case I tugged my thigh sheath up my leg a little higher.
Heading out the door I thought, maybe I should—
A hand gripped my shoulder.
I reacted before I could think. “Oh, shit, sorry.”
Dropping to my knees on the marble tiles, I inspected the kid sprawled outside my door. He wore a brown uniform, different from the soldiers I’d seen yesterday, with a leather sleeveless vest instead of the brass or bronze. Younger than me, probably eighteen or nineteen max, he looked as new as a mint condition nickel. Cute kid, sandy blond with pale sage green skin. He was probably cuter before the split lip.
“Sorry buddy, you scared me. What the hell are you doing sneaking up on people?”
“Uh . . .” He shook his head, blinking shiny moss-green eyes. “Guarding your door?”
I heaved the poor guy to his feet and handed him his weapon. Not the six-foot staff I’d seen in the city, but more like a rune-covered nightstick. “I think I won round one.”
He looked like he was deciding whether to be pissed or amused. I was glad when he chose the latter. “Right you are, Princess.” He stretched his jaw and probed his swelling lip with long fingers. His eyes widened at my robe and took an immediate survey of the crystal and bronze light fixture on the ceiling. “Forgive me. I . . . uh, please don’t report me.”
“Report you? For what?” I shoved my girlie parts back into my robe and tightened the sash. “For scaring the crap outta me or copping a look at my rack?”
The moan that echoed in the corridor was almost as cute as the blotchy scarlet blush covering his cheeks and neck.
I laughed. “No harm done. Not much to look at anyway. What’s your name?”
“Chamber Guard 11.”
I snorted. “Catchy. I take it your mother had a long and painful delivery? Marked from the start, eh? Beaten as a child?”
He chuckled, still studiously surveying the lighting. “Well, no. My given name is Terran.”
“Cool. Well, Terran, since first blood has been drawn, I consider us friends. I need a favor.”
He looked at me, a determined smile forming. “What do you have need of, Princess?”
“Okay, two favors. One, call me Lexi. I’m sick of all this pompous Princess shit. Two, I need me some workout clothes.” Terran’s eyes widened. Maybe he was a bit slow or maybe I’d cracked his egg a little harder than I thought. “You know, yoga pants, spandex, something for morning workouts. I’d give my left nut for some Lulu Lemon.”
He choked, sputtering until he took a few deep inhales. When he had regained his composure, he gestured down the hall. “I’m sure we can find something in the training wing.”
Maneuvering the maze of corridors, we eventually made our way to the training wing. Terran led me to a stack of clothes that reminded me of martial arts gis. Pressed and arranged by size, I picked the smallest one I could find. The drawstring took care of the waist sizing and I cut a foot off the length of the pants and sleeves to complete the tailoring adjustments.
After sheathing my knife, I left Terran standing guard outside the men’s locker room and freshened up. My entire world had flipped on its ass in the past twenty-four hours. I didn’t think an early-morning moment with some hair gel and mouthwash was too much to ask.
Talon warriors trained to compartmentalize pain and confusion. With the warm water of my wipe down bringing me back to center, clarity returned and my determination to find answers focused.
It left me Jonesing for a little hand to hand.
“Why isn’t there a ladies change room?” I asked Terran as he led us out through the staff wing toward the side lawn. “Is that some kind of a male dominance, macho bullshit?”
He chuckled. “Are you always like this, Princess?”
“Like what?”
“Uh . . . head down and horns raised?”
I smiled, liking that analogy. “Call me Lexi . . . and yes.”
“Well.” He jogged ahead and opened the door for a couple women pushing a linen cart. They froze when they saw me and bowed their heads before shuffling off. “You’ll find women here—women of status, I mean—aren’t quite as . . . lively as you. They would never instigate sweating, let alone risk the possibility of bruising skin or mussing hair.”
“Oh, how feminine.” I stuck out my tongue.
He laughed and opened another door. This one led out the far end of the palace to the outside world. After checking if the way was clear the two of us darted for the bronze, metallic wall on the far side of an open-air patio. Terran nodded to the guard posted at the gate. We didn’t seem to garner much interest.
By my experience, guards were more attentive when people were breaking into a palace rather than out. When we made it to the shadows behind the wall Terran relaxed again. I glanced back the way we’d come. Because of the heigh
t of the wall, I couldn’t see anything beyond the upper spires and the points where it met the mountain behind.
While I played within my mind, lowering the volume of the ocean hitting the protective field, Terran led us down and around what felt like a labyrinth of utility paths and over the first of the three moats that Estes had told me emulated the city’s rings. The barrier wall edging the one nearest the palace was that same bronze metal I’d seen a dozen times already.
As we walked, I ran a hand over the smooth, sculpted designs etched into the wall, surprised to feel energy surge under my palm. “Cool. What is this made of?”
Terran cast a glance at me rubbing the wall and stopped. “That’s orichalcum. It’s our primary alloy. We use it for building, coins, lady’s trinkets—”
“Weapons?”
Terran shrugged. “Usually not, though I have heard one of the city smiths is forging it strong enough to make a blade. Usually though, it’s too pliable.”
“And why does it pulse like that when you touch it?”
“Beg your pardon?” He arched a sandy blond brow. “Pulse how?”
I dried my palm against my pants and placed it flat against the metal wall again. The same sensation of electrical current wriggled through my hand and up my arm. “I don’t know. It tingles. Like it’s got an active component somehow.”
Terran placed his hand beside mine and shook his head. “I’ve never heard of that. Maybe it likes you and is welcoming you home.”
I laughed and followed him around the gentle arc of the moat’s dividing wall. A rhythmic feminine sigh was coming from somewhere up ahead. It was obvious by the pitch and gasp that someone else was out enjoying the early-dawn seclusion of the staff areas. Terran and I froze as male panting joined the chorus of coitus.
“Oh, Princess,” the man said, “how you intrigue me.”
