The Silent Princess

by T. A. Grey

  Jo hung up, pocketed his cell phone and headed back to the castle.

  This wasn’t gonna be easy. Nothing worth doing ever was.

  Jo kept his head low and the collar of his coat raised high to cover his neck as he stalked through the basement of the castle. He’d learned his way around pretty fast after getting here. Had to. One of the first options Gavin, Hart, and Jo had discussed involved sneaking Hanna and Alex out of the castle. They’d quickly decided against that. Jo had figured a job like that would be suicide in this enclosed place. Too many guards, especially on Hanna and Alex. And the awful snowy terrain weighed against them. It would take a great distraction and lots of luck to get those two out of here safely.

  Even then, what next?

  It’s not like the queen wouldn’t learn of their deception. She’d start a war. She said so herself. It would be lykaen on lykaen mass deaths as they battled. People would die. And for what? Because some punk prince got handsy with his cousin? Bullshit.

  Complicated bullshit.

  No, they couldn’t do that. They had to find some other way. In order to try to sway the Queen’s temperament, Gavin had originally agreed to return home while keeping Jo around as an emissary. Gavin was willing to do anything to try to reason with the queen.

  She appeared to distrust Gavin and Hart immediately, though she did seem to show a hint of trust towards Jo. Why, Jo had no clue. But she’d only allowed one of them to stay during the “trial” period. Jo was just the lucky son-of-a-gun chosen.

  Jo knew he should head back to his room and calm down before talking to Lysette. But he couldn’t do it. Was too amped up from his conversation with Gavin. His nerves felt fried, muscles tense and ready to fight. People’s lives were on the line and the last thing he wanted to do was fuck it up.

  Jo headed room to room searching for the one woman who held all the power in her hands. His search carried on for far longer than he’d have liked. And with each step he took he felt his anger rise another notch. Until, by time he found her, his hands were fists ready to destroy.

  Waiting in front the queen’s bedchambers were two bored guards. Jo had already come to learn that those guards weren’t stationed outside Lysette’s room unless the queen was inside.

  “I need to speak with her.”

  “Be gone with ye.” One of the guards moved to shove Jo, but he smoothly stepped aside and the guard pushed air instead.

  “Hey, what’s your problem?” The other guard had a keen eye.

  Jo’s patience slipped another notch. “I need to speak with the queen.” He spoke slowly so these impotent guards could understand. “Go. Fetch. Her.”

  “‘Ey man, we don’t fetch the queen, you’s know what I’m saying. She fetches us.” The guard laughed revealing yellowed teeth.

  Jo suddenly grabbed the guard by the throat, applying enough pressure that the other guard cocked his gun and leveled it at Jo’s temple.

  “Let him go, now!”

  Jo analyzed the situation carefully. A gun pointed at his head, or choking this stupid bastard alive. While weighing his options, he squeezed his hand around the man’s throat, feeling skin crush in his grasp. He thought death might be worth it just to end this man.

  “I said let him go!” the guard shouted.

  The door opened quietly behind them. The queen appeared in the doorway. She looked surprised, like she’d just woken suddenly.

  Jo released his grip on the guard and shoved him into his buddy with the gun. They both went sprawling across the floor. Jo didn’t have time to play twenty-questions, so he shoved her inside the room and followed.

  “We need to talk.”

  Jo didn’t wait for her answer, but turned the lock and shut them inside together.

  * * * * *

  “What is the meaning of this?” Queen Lysette stared at Jo with a bored expression.

  Having caught him choking one of her guards didn’t appear to raise alarm with the stoic queen. Just another normal day, he supposed.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Oui, so you’ve said. So talk.” She waved her hand at giving him permission. How grand of her. To deign to speak to him. She made him want to slap something. And no, not her face, though his palm tingled to think about it. He’d managed not to slap a woman in his lifetime and he planned to keep it that way.

  Jo couldn’t believe her audacity. Her whole attitude was exceedingly blasé and uncaring. Yet he’d seen her speaking passionately about her sister and nephew. She was not an uncaring woman; in fact, she hid more emotion than showed.

  Lysette wore a flowing robe of royal violet silk material that swept across the floor as she strutted away. Her bedroom was about as big as his house, he noted.

  Jo took the chance to study her bedroom...and her. She wore her hair down, not in some intricate style as she usually did. She’d let it down so it even looked freshly brushed, the coppery strands glinting orange like firelight.

  There was no bed in her bedroom. Really this room was a small antechamber filled with seating tables one might read at, a couple bookshelves with hardback copies and a movie wrack and an expensive television hung on one wall. A comfortable looking black leather sofa sat across from it. Jo tried to envision Lysette reclining while watching TV and couldn’t do it.

  Could not compute image, his brain told him.

  A dark door across the room appeared to lead into her actual bedchambers.

  So her bedroom really was the size of his one bedroom, one bathroom house. Damn. That made him feel a little bit smaller.

  “Please, get on with it. I do not have all night.” The queen’s gaze flicked to the bedroom door, sparking Jo’s interest.

  How did he go about discussing his...problem?

  Then, a peculiar sound drew their attention. Was that the sound of...coughing? Someone trying to stifle a cough, for sure. Lysette stared at Jo with determination in her gaze as if she would refuse to acknowledge what they both just heard.

  Jo found his feet moving of their own accord. He had no idea why he should care, but he was curious. Without permission, Jo strode into her inner bedroom. It was a sanctum of heavenly beauty, covered with luxurious draperies and art, books abundant on every little crevice. Femininity everywhere in the colors, the textures, the patterns from the floor to the ceiling. And, she must be a reader. Because on nearly every surface he found one book after the other. Many of them still open or bookmarked to certain spots she had yet to finish.

  None of which he cared about.

  What drew his attention was the man kneeling beside the bed. He looked up at Jo in surprise.

  The queen followed Jo into the bedroom, quietly watchful. But she didn’t make any move to stop him.

  Jo noticed several things about the man kneeling on the ground. First that he was very good looking. It was the first thing you noticed about him--the square jaw with the cleft in the chin, the concave cheekbones and a roman nose, brilliant blond hair and soft blue eyes. Handsome, no doubt.

  The second thing Jo was helpless to notice was the man’s lack of clothes. He was completely naked. Jo must have interrupted something. Something that made him decidedly uncomfortable and more than a little irritated.

  The man wore only a pair of underwear--briefs which hugged his waist and thighs.

  Jo found himself speaking without thinking. “I’ve interrupted something here.”

  “That you did.” Lysette strolled over to the man on the floor. His chest was chiseled with lean musculature. The queen patted him on the shoulder. “Thank you for stopping by, Antoine, but you may go now. Monsieur MacKellen and I need to have a conversation. Apparently.”

  The man looked dejected as he stood and grabbed his clothes. Jo felt his cheeks flush with an assortment of emotions. He hated to show any sign of duress but this one he couldn’t help. He’d found the queen in a strange position, and, simply put, he did not like it.

  He couldn’t help but wonder: what had the queen been doing with this man? Or, ra
ther, what was she going to do with him?

  Why was he kneeling on the floor?

  Was he a male gigolo, perhaps her own personal sex slave?

  Too many questions.

  Honestly, he didn’t even want to know the answers. Likely they’d only infuriate him more. Then he’d have to question himself to figure out why he should care. All things he’d prefer to avoid right now.

  After the man exited the room, Lysette poured a glass of wine and took a seat on the edge of a blue-upholstered sofa.

  “Now that my date is gone. Care to explain what this rude interruption is over?” The way she spoke irritated him.

  Wot zees rood interrooption eez ova?

  His eye twitched. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Necessarily.

  “But I think you did.” She crossed her legs, the silk of her gown moving like molten liquid. The gown at least covered her, only baring her arms and some cleavage. A modest dress for a woman who appeared happier wearing nothing.

  “Merci, tell me what this late-night call is all about. It doesn’t happen to pertain to a certain phone call you’ve made recently, hmm?”

  She knew about the call. Twitch-twitch went his eye.

  How much did she know?

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Then what do you want to talk about? I am quite bored you know.” She exhaled a long dramatic sigh, then plopped her chin on her fist. She wore a bored expression as if she’d been school studying all day and couldn’t wait for the bell to ring. “I did have a fun night planned...”

  Jo didn’t know how to go about the kind of discussion he needed to have with her. But he needed to stop hedging so he could get the fuck out of her bedroom.

  Standing upright at his full height, Jo spoke loud and clear. “Queen Lysette, I am here to speak about your proposal.”

  Her small forehead pinched in confusion. “Whatever are you talking about man?”

  Jo swore that if he blushed right now, he’d kill the first man he saw. He waited ten seconds for it to fade, and thank god, no one would have to die tonight.

  “I’m talking about your proposal at the bath the other night. You insinuated...” He couldn’t finish his statement. His face went aflame and he cursed. This was much harder than he’d thought it would be.

  And Lysette was not about to make this easy on him. She raised an eyebrow. “My proposal? Pardon if I don’t recall. Please, refresh my memory.”

  “You wanted me to kiss you.” Better straight and matter of fact.

  The queen eyes, almost too quickly to catch, narrowed on him meanly, before she stood and gave him her back. “I don’t recall such a thing.” There was that blasé attitude he was growing accustomed to.

  “Bullshit.” Jo watched her stiffen before she spun around. Her temper rising. This queen he recognized, the angry emotional one who couldn’t control her anger.

  “You wanted me to kiss you,” he repeated.

  “Merde. Is that really what you think?”

  Jo hesitated. He thought back to that night, to her proposition, and nodded. He remembered her naked body, the come-touch-me look in her eyes, and nodded.

  “Yes, I’m certain.” Women didn’t like him. Not generally. He was too...antagonizing, was the way his little cousin Kaity had described it. He put women off with his attitude, and he didn’t give one single shit. Because any woman he’d take notice in, wouldn’t be put off with his gruff attitude. And Jo was not the kind of man to chase after a woman. Not even once. “To be fair, I don’t understood why.”

  That touch of honesty seemed to shock her to the roots. She stiffened and her jaw gaped for a moment, before she slammed it shut.

  “Please elaborate, Jonas. I supposedly wanted to kiss you, you say. Perhaps I recall this, vaguely, but you don’t understand why. Let’s just say, dear Jonas that I did want to kiss you that night. Why ever would you doubt that I’d want to kiss you? I am most intrigued.” She was genuinely curious, even going so far as to step closer to him.

  Jo found himself in an uncomfortable position. He’d rather eat shit than have this conversation. Period.

  He lifted his chin, because he knew he was right, and went on with confidence. “You did want to kiss me. I don’t know why. Curiosity maybe.”

  “Hmm, curiosity. Perhaps,” she admitted. “I do grow curious about many things and people in my life.” She walked around the bed, trailing her hands along the engraved wooden posts. “If I did want to kiss a man, Jonas, why should it not be you? Is there something wrong with you? Is your mouth not in working order?” Her eyes glinted with teasing mischief--she was beginning to have fun.

  He, however, was not.

  “Because I’m not interested.”

  But if I have to feign interest to save Hanna’s life, I’ll do it. He’d take any leverage he could get.

  “If you’re not interested then why are you here in my bedroom?” Her soft question hit like a ton of bricks.

  Jo cursed and turned to leave. “Fuck this. I’m out.”

  “I think you are interested. More than you like to let on. I think you’re curious about me. I am flattered, so you know. Perhaps if we had met under different circumstances...things wouldn’t be so testy between us.”

  Jo grunted in response.

  “Or perhaps we would fight as we have been since meeting. You are very adversarial. Do you know that?”

  Another grunt, but she’d captured his attention.

  Adversarial. Him? He scoffed at the ill-fitting description. More like hardworking and dedicated to protecting lives. That’s what he did for a living.

  “You know nothing about me.”

  “And you know nothing about me,” Lysette quipped. “I would dare to say that we don’t know much about each other.”

  True. Perhaps. Damn. He hated her logic.

  “If I kiss you will you relieve Hanna and Alex back to the MacKellen pack and call a truce?”

  Lysette tossed her coppery mane back and laughed robustly. “I think not. A kiss to free two prisoners? That would have to be a helluva kiss, Monsieur MacKellen.”

  And he doubted he could kiss that well. Hell, it’d been...some time since he’d kissed a woman. He hadn’t exactly brushed up on his kissing skills before this assignment.

  “However, let’s say my interest is piqued. It’s not, mind you. But let’s just say it was. A kiss would do nothing for me. Tonight I’d had an entire night planned with Antoine and now that’s ruined.” She didn’t sound upset in the slightest. “What would you actually do to save your cousin’s life, Jonas MacKellen?” She stared at him, awaiting his answer.

  “What would I actually do?”

  Jo was frozen. Unable to come up with an answer. He should have one immediately, Hanna’s life was on the line here. But it didn’t matter; none of those outside pressures could make his brain from an answer that wasn’t there.

  “I have no idea.”

  Lysette smiled at him. “I think that’s the first honest answer you’ve given me. I’ll tell you what, Jonas. Since you’ve ruined my fun night and you are boring me already, why don’t you leave? You have nothing to do here and I have nothing more to say to you. My date has already disappeared. It will be a lonely night again.”

  Smile gone from her face, in its place a sadness which Jo understood. His chest squeezed painfully tight at seeing that emotion. Fuck. He hated that he cared at all that she was sad. What the fuck was going on here? He needed a good hard hit to the head to set him to rights.

  “No. I’m not leaving here.”

  One red eyebrow quirked upward. “Why not? Do you enjoy my company so much?”

  “No, not really.”

  She chuckled at his honesty.

  “I think we can reach a compromise, Lysette.” He purposely used her first name to gain her attention. It worked. She sat a little straighter. He did think they could comprise, truly. Just what would it take?

  Standing tall, Jo felt more than thought of what he had to do. It
was a hunch, a feeling that compelled him. But he could easily be wrong and could fuck things up horribly. Or, his hunch might be right. And good negotiations could come from gaining Lysette’s loyalty.

  Jo used his commanding presence and big body to his advantage as he strolled over to where she sat. Her smile slowly died, turning into apprehension and intrigue. She was as curious as he was. If she was tough as nails, then he was the hammer.

  He held his hand out to her. The first test.

  Would she accept his hand?

  After a few moments, cold fingers slid into his hand. He tugged until she stood, following his lead.

  He had no idea where he was leading her, but together they’d go.

  Chapter NINETEEN

  Alex couldn’t believe this. Hanna was still giving him ‘tude. An attitude. With him. Really? All because he hadn’t given her what she wanted. Sex. Good old s-e-x.

  Dang, it wasn’t like his heart wasn’t broken over it too. Her breeding cycle meant she was significantly likely to become pregnant and he was not ready for that. At all.

  He’d have loved to plunder her sweet, sweet goodies, but then she’d have to see him. All of him. And, the answer to that question was not no, but hell no. Shaking his head didn’t begin to clear the nasty mental image. Nah, he didn’t want to show her that. Not with his deformity.

  Other girls, maybe he didn’t mind as much. The kind of women he usually went with weren’t exactly perfect themselves, had a few problems, like him. Plus, he’d learned over the years a few tricks. If he could stay behind the girl for most of sex, he’d be good. She wouldn’t get a good look at him. Otherwise, it’d have to be dark. Not, lamp-on-next-to-the-bed kind of dark either, but black-dark. No lights, no open blinds, never during the daylight, or by the light of the moon or some shit, nada. These girls it was easy to tell about his problem. But with Hanna, everything was different.

  With Hanna, hell, he’d probably have to blindfold her, turn off the lights, and tie her hands up so she wouldn’t go exploring his body for herself, then maybe, just maybe, they could have sex.