“Yes, I’d expect you have similar experience. But other races, other realms, didn’t cling so hard to the past. Instead of finding ways to incorporate humans’ new ways and new technologies into Faerie in a gradual, manageable way, we chose to deny them. As a result, we’re so far behind that we may never catch up.” Con gestured to the wall, where the enormous black expanse of the television glared at them like the eye of a baleful dragon. “Just absorbing the latest methods of entertainment would take more lifetimes than even an immortal possesses.”
“So that’s why the Queen is forcing you to do this, isn’t it? All the candidates are from races that have embraced the changes, or are at least actively pursuing integration.”
Con nodded. That was the only reason he’d gone along with the plan at all, despite Rey’s obvious dismay. It would benefit the realm, their people. Rey might have to sacrifice some of his freedom, but he wouldn’t be a prisoner. He’d be denied nothing. Nothing but his heart. But considering the speed with which Rey acquired and discarded lovers, Con wasn’t sure he even possessed such a thing. Perhaps the fairies on their Naming Day had done something to remove it. They certainly seemed to have frozen Con’s in his chest.
He lifted the silver lid of the next course, a savory soup that made his mouth water. “So despite the backwardness of this mating dance, it’s for the good of Faerie. The good of my people.”
Andy studied him, his head tilted to one side as he picked up the serving ladle. “You know, you’re not a bit like I expected you to be.”
“You had expectations?”
“I’ve heard tales of your exploits.”
Con snorted. “They must clearly be outrageous if the denizens of—let me guess—Alfheim have heard of them.”
Andy jerked, dropping the ladle with a clatter. He looked more stricken than fumbling cutlery should warrant. “Not… not exactly. But you know. Information packets.”
“Goddess, they included all of that? I wonder that any of the candidates stayed past check-in.”
Andy spooned soup into Con’s bowl, then took some for himself, a dimple peeping in one cheek. “I have to admit, some of them were more entertaining than reality TV. Do you purposely save your best escapades for where the bards can see and capture it in highly explicit tavern ditties?”
“I suppose it must look that way.” Unfortunately, most of Rey’s more indiscreet moments were in full view of a crowd. “But anything to entertain the public. I consider it my royal duty.”
“Well, you’ve certainly risen to the occasion. Multiple times.”
“I suppose it’s a good thing you all know me already.” Con toyed with his soup spoon, glancing sidelong at Andy. “If I have to live up to my own reputation, this dinner could get quite out of hand.”
Andy just chuckled around a spoonful of soup.
Damn it, so much for delicate hints. Without some notion of what Rey and Andy had been to each other, Con had no idea how to behave. If they’d been friends, or lovers—although that notion sent an unexpected spike of jealousy straight through Con’s belly—then Con should have no compunction in convincing Andy to consider Rey as a mate.
That was the point of this whole elaborate event, after all. Rey was supposed to choose from among the candidates. Andy was a candidate. That meant he, like the others, must be willing to be chosen. But why?
Con set his spoon aside with a faint clink. “I have a confession to make.”
Andy blinked at him and dabbed his lips with his napkin. “Okay. But don’t feel like you owe me anything that you’re uncomfortable sharing. Really.”
“But I do. I know that I’ve met all the candidates, or they wouldn’t be here.”
Andy’s gaze flickered away for an instant. “Oh. Um. Right.”
“But I don’t remember you. At all. Maybe we met at one of those infamous tavern scenes and I was too into my cups to remember?” Con allowed his voice to rise, hoping Andy would take the bait and reveal the nature of his relationship with Rey, or at the very least, a few details of their meeting.
No such luck, however. Instead, Andy picked up the cover and settled it back over the soup. “In that case, why don’t we take a stroll in the garden and get to know one another now. We can play twenty questions, then come back and finish our meal as friends. That way, we can pretend that we knew each other before our official date, and no one can cry foul.”
“Won’t the food be spoiled?”
“Not a chance.” Andy grinned and flicked a fingernail against the silver dome with a soft cling. “Magic. It’ll be just as perfect when we get back as it was when they delivered it.”
“In that case….” Con folded his napkin and laid it on the table. “Shall we?”
“Don’t mind if we do.”
They rose, and Con held the door open for Andy to exit onto the terrace. “How did we meet?” he asked as they trod down the steps into the garden.
“Over dinner.” Andy winked. “But I don’t think that counts as a real question. We need to find out about each other as people, just as if we were meeting for the first time.”
“All right, then. You start.”
“What’s your favorite color?”
Con laughed. “Blue. Does that reveal some deep, dark secret about my personality?”
“It might, considering you’re wearing red and black.”
Con inclined his head, acknowledging the hit. “Perhaps I should be stricter with my tailor.” He paused by the edge of the fountain. “You know, earlier I could have sworn I saw eyes underneath the water here.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“Who do you suppose it was?”
“Either an undine or a glaistig. There’s one of each on the Enchanted Occasions staff.”
“You seem to know a lot about the Enchanted Occasions staff.”
Andy shrugged. “I’ve studied their brochures and their website.”
“Website, eh? You know, in Faerie, websites come with actual spiders.”
“I didn’t, but good to know. Brrr.” Andy shivered theatrically. “Seventeen to go.”
“Seventeen? I make it twenty, since you said the how-did-we-meet question didn’t count. I question your math, Sir Anders.”
Andy cocked an eyebrow and dipped his chin. “It’s Andy, remember? Just Andy. And my math is perfect. You asked if your color choice was revealing.” He held up one hand and ticked it off on his fingers. “You asked who was under the water. And you asked if I knew about… ugh… spiders. Three down.”
“Two of those were responses, not actual questions, and the last was rhetorical,” Con protested.
“They required answers.” Andy’s dimple peeped again. “So they totally count.”
Con hmmphed in mock irritation. “You’re a tough negotiator. Good thing you’re not in charge of my fate.”
Andy stumbled, and Con caught his elbow, steadying him. “Sorry.” Andy smiled apologetically, tugging his tunic straight. “Rough spot in the grass.”
“Just so.” Although the turf looked as smooth as an ermine’s fur to Con. “I believe it’s your turn, then.”
Andy clasped his hands behind his back and led Con over the frivolous bridge. “How do you like to spend your time when you’re not being all princely and official?”
“I read, mostly. I have a decent library. Books from all the realms. Talus keeps me supplied, although even he can’t seem to carry the weight of all the books I can read between his Interstitial trips. He has other duties as well. He can’t always be carting books around for me.”
“I suppose low-tech Faerie doesn’t have such a thing as an e-reader.”
“A what?”
“We are going to do some serious tutorials once we’re back in the suite. If you—” Andy flushed, hunching his shoulders. “Sorry. I forgot. You’ll have other candidates to see, other dates to attend.”
“Surely we don’t have to wait until you come round in the queue again.”
“It’s the rules.�
� Andy turned away, almost sprinting for the trees at the back of the garden.
Con caught up with him next to the flowering dogwood. “Andy—”
“Lie down under the tree.”
“Are you trying to have your wicked way with me?”
Andy blushed. “Of course not. I just want to show you something.”
Con could think of a few things he’d like Andy to show him. Goddess, he was turning into his brother. He took a firm hold of his out-of-control libido and lay down on the velvety grass. “Aren’t you going to lie down too?”
“No. I’ve already seen it.”
“How?”
“I’ve… uh… been here a while. Had the tour. You know.”
“Right. Information packets.”
Con wriggled a bit to settle his shoulders more comfortably and gazed up into the branches. “Now what?”
“You need to pan from left to right.” Andy moved to Con’s left. “Start right above me and pan slowly, looking up into the branches.”
“If you say so. I….” Con’s voice died. As his gaze traveled across the blossoming tree, it was as if an entire flight of tiny pink birds fluttered above him. “That’s… I thought the unicorn and phoenix effect of the whole tree was amazing, but that—”
“Now pan back the other way.”
Con did, and this time, instead of birds, a herd of—“Wait. Are those pigs?”
Andy chuckled, a warm burr that settled low in Con’s belly. “Yep. The Enchanted Occasions arborist is Welsh. Apparently pigs hold a special place in Welsh tales.”
Con grinned. “They do. This arborist is incredibly talented. I’ve never seen anything like this. Their talents are wasted in—”
“Working for an event planner in the Interstices?”
Andy’s voice had taken on a decided chill, which Con couldn’t understand. “Well. Yes. They could name their price. More than one patron would—”
“Have you looked at the Enchanted Occasions brochures?”
“No.”
“Perhaps you should do some research. All the employees are aitchers.”
Con frowned. “I’ve never liked that term. It seems disrespectful.”
“It was at first, a derisive comment one of the Pures made, thinking they were ever so funny. But the aitchers embraced it. It’s a badge of honor now.”
Con gazed up at Andy, at the way the extended Interstitial twilight cast shadows under his cheekbones. “You realize that I’m an aitcher myself, don’t you?”
Andy’s mouth dropped open, his previous frown fading into a look of astonishment. “I—No. I didn’t.”
“My father was a human bard, before Gloriana turned him into a wyvern.” He smiled wryly. “Does that make me half human or half wyvern?”
“You call your mother Gloriana?”
“I certainly don’t call her Mother,” Con muttered. He stood, and as he got to his feet, his head brushed a low-hanging branch.
Andy laughed and stepped closer. “Hold on. You’ve got dogwood dandruff.” He circled behind Con, brushing his shoulders and smoothing the tunic. “And a little more grass decoration than your tailor intended.”
After he completed his circuit, Con held out his arms. “Am I presentable again?”
“Almost. You’ve got a bit of a non-royal crown.” Andy reached up and plucked something from Con’s hair. A pink petal. “A bit more Queen of the May than Faerie Prince, although what do I know about it?”
“Is that it?” Con’s voice was strained. Andy’s hands were gentle even though they were impersonal. Or were they?
“A couple more. Hold still.” He smoothed his hands over Con’s hair, invoking a shiver. Con closed his eyes, savoring the touch. How long had it been since anyone had touched him? In Faerie, when he wasn’t impersonating Rey, he was more or less outcast. No one dared be seen with him without damaging their status at court. The most he had managed were furtive trysts in the dark, over almost before they began, his partner fleeing back to the light without a single word or glance of affection. The touching in those encounters had been limited to only the necessary flesh. No lingering caress. No brush of silken skin.
No kiss.
Con noticed that Andy’s hands were motionless, his fingers still tangled in Con’s hair. When Con opened his eyes, Andy’s face was inches away, his glorious blue eyes wide. Shock? Desire? Con didn’t know and didn’t want to guess. He leaned forward. One kiss. One taste. Surely I’ve earned that much. That’s what this whole charade was about, wasn’t it?
A crash sounded from inside the suite, followed by two more, and Andy leaped away, clasping his hands behind his back as if he’d done something wrong.
“Your—Your Highness. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Why? You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You have no idea,” he muttered, glancing up at the windows where several people in gray Enchanted Occasions blazers scurried around the room armed with brooms.
“We’re getting to know one another. That’s what this is all about, right? No one can fault either one of us for that.”
“You’d think.”
“Come along. I think after all this, that we’re allowed to eat dessert first.”
Chapter Five
ANDY practically flew across the garden and into the safety of the suite, where the EO staff was cleaning up the aftermath of Andy’s indiscretion.
The prince was dangerous. Not because he was frightening or violent or inappropriate, but because he wasn’t. I am in such deep lutefisk.
Andy had destroyed three more vases, just to avoid a kiss. Forrest really would never forgive him—the look on the dryad’s face as he’d carried the broken flowers out of the suite, cradled in his arms like babies…. Well, Andy knew he’d be hearing about it.
By keeping up a steady stream of inane requests of the waitstaff, he’d managed to make sure he and the prince hadn’t been left alone during the meal for more than a few minutes. The way his nerves skittered every time he met the prince’s warm brown gaze set off the danger klaxon in his brain.
I don’t deserve that look. He doesn’t know I’m a fraud. Worse, if the prince did know Andy’s true nature, his lovely mouth would curl in disgust, in mistrust, and the magical bubble of their camaraderie, their connection, would burst.
So he’d enjoy it while it lasted, and pray that at least one of the candidates would be recovered by tomorrow afternoon, when the next date was scheduled.
Hazel, the brownie maître d’, removed the last plate from the table. “Your Highness, Sir… Anders, you’ll find aperitifs and a selection of sweets in the sitting room.”
“Thank you.” Rey nodded graciously. “That will be all for the evening. Could you see that we’re not disturbed further?”
Hazel slanted a glance Andy’s way, and Andy tried to convey “Oh Hel no” with a tiny shake of his head and his no doubt panicked expression. But Hazel simply bowed. “Of course, Your Highness.”
Of course she agreed. Rey was the prince. The client. A client always had the final say, especially a royal client who could end all their careers—and possibly their days with fewer than four legs—with a word of displeasure.
As soon as the waitstaff bustled out, Hazel closed the door with a soft click that sounded as loud as a cannon-shot in Andy’s ears. Rey stood. “Shall we? After that outstanding meal, I’m curious as to how the chef will cap off the evening.” He held out his hand.
Capping off the evening. Yes, that was the problem, wasn’t it? Andy had read the contracts. No way would he get away without at least a kiss good night. But maybe he could delay it long enough that a kiss would be all they’d have time for before Brooke arrived to announce the end of the event.
Because that was one of the other features—each date had a prescribed length, so that every candidate had an equal amount of time to convince the prince of their suitability. With Andy taking the first spot, the schedule was already in danger, but since Johan had disqualified hi
mself by poisoning his competition, they could still make it work.
As long as somebody, anybody, was well enough tomorrow to accompany the prince to the Frost Giants’ rugby final. Because if Andy showed up there, where half the fans hailed from one of the nine Norse realms, the jig would be up. Someone would recognize him for sure.
“Andy?”
Andy blinked at the uncertain note in Rey’s tone, realizing he’d been staring at his offered hand while his mind had spun in panic.
“Sorry. Of course.” He took Rey’s hand. As soon as their palms met, that same little zing he’d felt with his fingers twined in Rey’s hair arrowed straight to his groin. Thank Freya this stupid tunic is long enough to cover the misbehaving bits. He forced himself to be cheerful and impersonal, hopping to his feet with a too-wide grin. “I promised to show you how all the gadgets worked, didn’t I?”
Rey’s eyes barely widened before he returned the smile with far more graciousness than Andy deserved. Kudos to the royal etiquette instructors. “That’s right. You did. Please.” He gestured to the sitting room door. “After you.”
After an hour of nearly nonstop chatter about iTunes and HBO and e-books, Andy was feeling dizzy from the combination of too much high-end sherry and Rey’s nearness.
Rey, to do him credit, had paid flattering attention to everything Andy said—and the way his eyes had lit up when he’d loaded his first book onto his e-reader? Andy had wanted to curl up next to him and purr.
“I can—what did you call it?—download any book I want?”
“Well, any book that’s available. But there are lots of different resources, even free ones. You can order anything you want while you’re here.” Andy winked. “It’ll just be added to the Queen’s bill.”
“That’s—Oh. It won’t work when I go back to Faerie, will it?”
“No. But it works in the Interstices, so you can bring it with you whenever you come back.”
Rey’s face shuttered as if the lights had gone off behind his eyes. “I doubt I’ll have much opportunity.” He held the e-reader out. “Perhaps you should take it with you. You seem to spend more time here than I do.”
Nudging Fate Page 4
