Enchanted: A Fae Fantasy Romance (Fae Magic Book 3)

by Jessica Aspen

He went to the window and gestured to the broad fields outside the castle. During the day you could see tiny figures of farmers harvesting the late summer hay moving from wagon to wagon. A picture perfect scene for a picture perfect castle. But right now the moon had set and it was pitch dark out there. “Not out there. Not beyond the gates of the castle. Those farmers who you can see from your windows have never heard of you. And no one here has either.” He pulled on his shirt. She just stared at him, her face blank as the truth poured out of his mouth. “Once they leave the castle, once they leave the spell, they forget all about you. They have no idea what they’ve done while they’re here. They talk of the queen and the party. Of Lord Haddon. But no one talks of you.” He stuffed his tux into the bag, shoving it in deep with hard vicious thrusts. “Outside of this castle, you don’t exist.”

  “You’re wrong! You’re just upset and jealous.” She got out of the bed. Her hands were curled into tight fists at her side. “Did Gertrude put you up to this?”

  “I thought you were in on it. Guess I was wrong.”

  “Get out.” Her face went a shocky white. “Get out!” She pushed him toward the door.

  He resisted and the weight of understanding spread through his body. The giant’s bag dropped from his fingers. He bent to pick it up. “You have no idea, do you? You’re just as much under that spell as everyone else.”

  He ducked the heavy crystal paperweight she threw at his head and scooped up his boots, running for the door. He stripped the wards from the lock and opened it just as the lamp crashed into the wall next to his head.

  “Out!”

  He pulled the door shut and stood in the living room, sounds of her sobs coming through the door.

  He’d screwed up. She’d had no idea, none at all, that she didn’t exist. She howled, a painful broken sound that he knew well. He should, he’d made it himself in the past. It was the sound of a fracturing heart.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cassie stared at the door to her suite. “You’re wrong,” she said out loud, even though Bosco couldn’t possibly hear her through the solid wood. She was shaking. Moving slow, like an old woman, she made it back to the bedroom and crawled between the cold sheets. The citrusy smell of Bosco, mixed with the musky scent of sex, was strong in the bed. Tears welled up, choking her throat. She couldn’t stay here.

  She got out of the bed and ran the water in the bath until it steamed. She eased her way in, toe by toe, until she was completely submerged in the heat and the ice lining her heart had eased.

  He’d said she didn’t exist.

  What did he mean?

  He said the spell over the castle kept everyone from questioning her, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe the spell made everyone forget her so that she was protected. Wasn’t that why she was here? Wasn’t that why her aunt, the queen, had moved everything to this castle and away from the Black Court? To keep her safe from another murder attempt?

  Panic shot through her. She held her breath and lay back under the water, looking up at the blurry surface and letting small bubbles go until her lungs burned.

  She needed air. She rose up gasping, water rushing from her face and hair. She breathed. She hurt.

  He had to be wrong. She existed.

  She sat in the tub until the water was cold and she was again freezing before crawling out and wrapping up in the warmest flannel pajamas she could find. Despite the memories still lingering between the sheets, she crawled into the bed. She’d asked him to fuck her, and he had. Just more than she’d bargained for. On the bedside table her ball glowed softly, pictures swimming inside. Pictures she could almost make out for the first time ever. The blonde. The brunette. A small, weathered house. And another woman with red hair like hers and the soft curves of middle age.

  Someone had answers. She had to start somewhere. Lord Haddon had been helping her regain her memories in their private sessions. Or had he? Lately he only pushed her to see the prince.

  If Bosco was right, then he was the only one who’d been honest with her. Lord Haddon, her aunt, Gertrude. Either they didn’t know. Or they’d lied. She had to find Bosco and find out more of what he’d meant before she went crazy.

  She stripped off her comfy pajamas and dressed in one of her less formal gowns, shrinking her ball down and slipping it into a hidden interior pocket. There was no ball tonight, and it was late. Everything would be casual downstairs. And everything would be chaos. On nights like this she usually hid in her quarters and ordered dinner so she could avoid the wild partying the queen and the rest of the guests thrived on. But she couldn’t wait any longer. She had to know. If she wasn’t a princess, then who was she?

  She tried the main ballroom first, sticking close to the walls and avoiding the late night crowds gyrating madly on the dance floor. But there was no sign of Haddon in the flickering lights that sparsely illuminated the room.

  “Why aren’t you hiding in your rooms, you certainly don’t fit in here.” The sound of Gertrude’s laugh was loud in her ear, loud enough to be heard over the pounding rock music.

  She whipped around. Gertrude and two bare-chested Tuathan lords were right behind her.

  “Just look at that dress. Disgraceful.” The scraps of fabric Gertrude wore barely covered her. She’d used a glamour to coat her skin in sparkles and she gleamed red, gold and purple in the changing light.

  Cassie flushed, holding her head high at the other woman’s raised-eyebrow examination of her more formal gown. “Have you seen Lord Haddon? I’m looking for him.”

  “Why? Did your lover give up on you? Is he tired of your skinny ass already?” Gertrude smirked and looked for affirmation from the men wrapped around her.

  Cassie ignored the sly laughs. “Have you seen him, or not?”

  “I saw him heading down to the dungeons a minute ago. You’d better hurry. You don’t want to have to follow him down there. Who knows what you’ll find.” She walked away, leaning her head to the side as one of the men whispered in her ear. She looked back at Cassandra over his shoulder and giggled, whispering back. They all laughed and heat swallowed her skin again.

  Was Bosco right? Did they all know something she didn’t? Was she the only one who thought she was a princess? Was the whole thing some joke?

  The lights flashing on and off in time with the music made her head whirl. She pushed her way through the room, ignoring calls to come and play. A woman Cassie had met two days ago, Lady Lian, someone who she would have said was the soul of propriety, stripped off her gold lamé top and whirled it around her head. The woman’s breasts swung wildly with the motion and her companions hooted, urging her to strip off the remaining short skirt. “Go! Go! Go!”

  The drinks and drugs were flowing and things were getting wild. She had to get out of here and find Haddon. He’d know the truth and she was done waiting. But finding Haddon meant going somewhere she’d never been—the dungeons.

  The queen’s reputation was enough for her. She didn’t need to see evidence of her aunt’s predilections. She hurried down the stairs but when she got to the next floor, they ended in a long hallway that looked far too normal to be the dungeons.

  It was quieter here. A few people ran by, giggling and heading for the party upstairs. Lights were spaced out evenly along the hallway illuminating the occasional bench or small incidental table. Cassie peered down to where the lights were farther apart. It was darker down there. Goosebumps raised along her skin and she rubbed her bare arms.

  How deep did she have to go? Where was the dungeon? This didn’t look right. Where were the guards? She turned to look back up the stairs, and accidentally stepped into the path of a troll lumbering past. He bumped into her, his huge hairy arms raised to push her aside. “Get outta my way, bitch!” The blast of sound rolled out, hurting her ears.

  He caught sight of her face and nearly tripped in his haste to get out of her way. “Sorry, Your Highness. Sorry.” He bowed, over and over again, the expression of contrition wrinkling his shaggy face looking
distinctly out of place as he scrambled to move his massive body out of her way.

  “It’s alright.” Cassie tried not to breathe in his clammy scent of dank water.

  He slowed the bowing, but continued staring at the floor, as if she might decide to raise up her arm and hit the massive noggin nearly two feet taller than her own that blocked out the next light.

  “Have you seen Lord Haddon?”

  “Yes, m’lady.” Eyes averted, he pointed down a side corridor where the electric lights were dim. “I saw ‘im that’a way.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and made her way down the unfamiliar hallway. She took a peek back. He was still there, head down, waiting. Oddly enough she was buoyed by the sight. He, at least, thought she was the princess.

  She continued walking. There was no sign of a dungeon, just a few rooms scattered along the hall. Most were locked, sounds of revelers doing Goddess knew what behind them. She’d spent the last three months hiding in her rooms and hadn’t ventured into this section of the castle, but it wasn’t too late. She’d started to wake up. It was time to find out everything she could about herself, and that meant venturing down here where she knew the party could get rough.

  Another short hallway bisected the first. All the way at the end a door was partially open and light poured from the space. The distinct sound of Haddon’s thin, weedy voice trickled down the corridor. She sped up. She wanted answers and she wanted them now.

  “Don’t threaten me, Haddon.” Cassie froze, her hand reaching to push the door open. Aunt or not, the queen scared her.

  “I would never dare to do so, Your Highness.”

  “You think I need you, but I don’t. I have the wench now and she’s all I need. She’s giving me enough information to turn the tides of the war. You’d better watch your step or I’ll send you packing.”

  “We are winning because of her information, but you need me to keep her in line.”

  “I can find someone else to control her. I don’t need you.”

  “My queen, I’m the one who helped you bind her powers. I’m the one who controls her sessions. If you think you can control her without me, then be my guest.”

  Cassie held her breath and snuck closer. She gripped the rough stone wall and edged closer, peering around the doorframe. Inside a sitting room with two small couches, a few side tables, and decorated with paintings and tapestries, the queen and Haddon faced off.

  Aeval’s eyes spiraled in brilliant purple pools and sparks flew from her fingertips. “She’s my toy to use, not yours.” Her voice rose, the words flying fast and frantic from her lips. “You want her all for yourself. You jealous, spiteful man.”

  “My queen,” Haddon’s voice dropped into a soothing tone. “I have ever been on your side. I’m just trying to help.”

  “You’re trying to control me, just like my father used to. I thought you were on my side, but you’re not!” A jeweled box lifted and sailed across the room, crashing and breaking on the floor.

  “I am on your side, just as I have always been. Who helped you with your father?”

  “You did.”

  “And who has helped you with Cassandra? Who has found out the information that has Kian on the run?”

  “You.”

  “Me. I am your loyal servant. I’ll always be here for you, Your Majesty.” Haddon reached out and stroked the queen’s bare arm. Cassie waited for the explosion, but it didn’t come.

  The queen’s whirling eyes slowed. “It’s taking too long. It’s been three months! We should have had Kian trapped by now. You give her too much freedom. She should be working all the time until he’s stopped and I have him. I need his power.”

  “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, you are right.” Haddon’s head dipped in a small bow. “I give her too much leeway. But she’s been under a strain. We don’t want her to break.”

  “I want her to break!” The purple eyes whirled faster and faster.

  Electricity crackled through the room. The ends of Cassie’s hair lifted with static and she clutched the wooden edge of the door-frame. Haddon backed away from the queen, hitting the low couch behind him and nearly falling into it.

  “I want her bleeding and broken and giving me what I need!” A vase of flowers lifted from a table and flew across the room, narrowly missing the advisor. The furniture quivered, the couches sliding across the room and a cool wind blew out of the door, caressing Cassie’s cheek. “She’s mine! Mine! Mine!”

  It was all true. All of it. They’d bound her powers. They’d done something to her head. They were using her. Using her Gift. And she hadn’t even known.

  Who was she?

  Her thoughts spinning and out of control, Cassie backed away from the room as carefully and quietly as she could. Then she broke and ran from the sound of the queen’s madness echoing off the walls.

  SHE RACED DOWN DIM hallways she’d never seen before, nearly crashing into a group of naked masked revelers. “It’s the virgin princess.” A man leered at her, his hostility hiding behind the carved grinning face of his mask. “Wait, not a virgin any longer. Didn’t she take a lover?”

  “Come with us, Princess.” He seized the puffed sleeve from her shoulder, tearing the sleeve down and exposing her breast. Grasping fingers reached out and squeezed, bruising her flesh. “Now here’s some fun.”

  She kicked, hitting him squarely between the legs.

  “Bitch.” He sank to the ground, cradling his manhood in his hands and muttering. “Just like her fucking aunt.”

  Cassie scooted around the group of staring men and ran harder, trying to outrun the party, the madness, herself.

  She didn’t know who she was. She didn’t know what the queen and Haddon had really done to her. Why had they felt it necessary to bind her Gift? Was there something horrible about her?

  Was Bosco right? Was she even a princess?

  Deeper into the castle she ran as if she could outrun everything she’d overheard. Down hallways and around corners, down stairs she’d never seen before, and never wanted to, the lights growing dimmer and farther between.

  She finally slowed, her lungs cramping for air. There were no sounds from the party any longer, it was quiet. Only a steady drip, drip, drip from the moisture on the walls echoing through the dark. She was down deep in the castle, somewhere she’d never been and never expected to go. The dungeons were down here, hidden away. She’d heard rumors of what her aunt did down here. Now, given what she’d heard, she feared the rumors were only the edge of what could be a very black pool of nasty.

  Was she crazy? Deluded into thinking she was a princess? Had she inherited her aunt’s insanity? And the queen was insane. There was no doubt about it anymore, Cassie had seen it in her eyes. If her own Gift had been stronger she might have seen even deeper and gotten sucked into the maelstrom. She shuddered and closed her eyes.

  She didn’t feel crazy. Didn’t feel out of control. She just felt confused and anxious and ready to know what the hell was going on. If Bosco was to be believed she was sane, it was the spell that had made everyone delusional.

  She laughed. The sound echoing down the bare stone walls of the corridor. “Isn’t that what all the crazy people say?” she asked herself out loud. Her feet ached and she bent down to take off her heels.

  “I don’t know, what do they say, my pretty one?” From the dark shadows between lights a large figure lurched up the hallway.

  She froze, one shoe on and one shoe off.

  He had the face and torso of a man, thick curling brown hair with wickedly sharp curling horns. A bushy beard covered his chin trailing down into the opening between the lapels of his black jacket, the only thing he had on. The thick curls continued down his bare chest, forming a dark curling mat all the way down his belly to his manhood swinging like a giant loaf of bread between his thighs. His legs bulged with muscle and were covered with more shaggy hair, so woolly it looked like a pelt covering the knees hooking backwards back into hocks that led down to his cloven h
ooves. A satyr.

  Gertrude had strictly warned her away from the Satyrs. She’d said they’d been created from the mists of Underhill by the Goddess for sex. No rules. No stopping.

  She turned to run, but she was hobbled by her one heel and he was quicker, grabbing her arm and tearing her other sleeve. “My, my. You look like you’ve been enjoying the party.” His slurred words stank of alcohol and cigarettes. She recoiled.

  “I’m tired. Heading to my room now,” she said, wondering where in the hell her rooms were from here. She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, his large fingers digging deep and bruising her arm. “You’re hurting me.”

  His eyes gleamed. “Good,” he said.

  “I have to go.” She tugged, but he didn’t let go.

  “Now, now, we can’t have you leaving so soon. The party’s just getting started.” He pulled her to him, his huge cock pressing into her belly. His hand found her bared breast and he twisted her nipple hard.

  “Ow! Let me go!” She lifted her knee, but unlike the last man, he was too quick. He shifted his hips to the side, her knee slid off harmlessly to the side.

  “Feisty, aren’t you? I like that.” He chuckled. “You’ll be fun to break tonight.”

  “Let me go.” She struggled. “They’ll be looking for me.”

  “They can look all they want, but you’re down here now. They won’t find you until I’m well finished with you.”

  He ground his mouth on hers, thrusting his tongue between her lips. Smearing her mouth with the taste of sour beer and tobacco. She shoved at him, but he was massive.

  “Fight me, my pretty one.” He breathed hot moisture on her cheeks. “I haven’t had someone so mettlesome in a while and it makes me hard.”

  Cassie pushed at him, her hands trapped between them, but he grinned and pushed back. She slammed against the stone wall, hitting her head. She slid down the wall. Stars danced in her vision and the distant lights blurred. The huge figure of the satyr hunkered down in front of her and she tried to get to her feet. He lifted her, holding her against the stones of the wall and leaning in.