A Tale of Two Kingdoms (Knights of Black Swan, Book 6)

by Danann, Victoria

  By the time they reached Duff’s suites, Innes was so red faced and heaving Duff was concerned he may have done the man injury.

  “Peyton. Fae’s gods, man. I could no’ have dreamed you’d let yourself go or I never would have tested ye. Please accept my apology. And, when you can once again draw breath, I’ll offer you a beer to go with your pizza.”

  “Very funny. If I had lost sight of you in this damned infernal place, I may have been wanderin’ about for days before bein’ found, only then to be imprisoned because of no’ bein’ able to properly explain what I was doin’ here. Deliverin’ a pizza to the prince! A likely story indeed, solicitor.

  “My mate would be told I was found lookin’ like a drowned rat goin’ door to door sayin’, ‘Duffy? Duffy?’ You should be ashamed of yourself.” Duff just laughed. “You know, Duff Torquil, what you’re needin’ is a mate. Settle you right down by all the gods.”

  “Right you are, Pey, and I’ll be agreein’ to the marrow in my very bones.”

  “You will?”

  “Aye.”

  “Are you goin’ to eat that whole thin’ by yourself or were you plannin’ to share?”

  During pizza and beer, Innes took a look around at the state of Duff’s bedroom with maps and papers strewn everywhere, also noting the dark circles under his eyes and the two days growth of beard.

  “Duffy. Can’t help noticin’ there’s a lot of movin’ parts bein’ put into play here. Also can no’ help noticin’ that your groomin’ is in a wee state of decline.”

  “Just a minor speed bump while I work out details. No’ to worry. In fact, in many ways I have ne’er been better. Do your part in this and I’ll be eternally grateful in ways that mere fees can no’ express.”

  “A sweet speech, lad. But I am worried nonetheless.”

  Shaking his head, the prince motioned toward the door. “Come let me show you the way out. I can no’ have you gettin’ lost,” he laughed. When they reached the guides’ break room, they shook hands outside the door.

  Duff said, “Call or text me as soon as you have some good news.”

  He was referring to the British Columbia property that Duff had shown him online. As the prince had rightly said, people in the business of buying and selling real estate were actively engaged in commerce on weekends.

  Back in his room, alone again, Duff was thinking Innes was right. There were a lot of moving parts, which meant there were a lot of things that could go wrong, which meant that he had to be excruciatingly meticulous about every detail. He went back to work planning the last big step. How to get there.

  He spread the biggest maps he could find out across the floor and then set the portaputer down on top of that with his notebook, ready to start the flight plan. He smiled to himself.

  Before the days of airplanes, the word flight was only used in reference to humans to describe fleeing. As Duff planned their escape it occurred to him that both meanings of flight applied to their elopement.

  They were fleeing by flying.

  How he wished she was with him.

  Right then.

  He wished she was sitting next to him on his bedroom floor helping to calculate the flight plan as they conspired together about their getaway, imagining their new life, whispering about strawberries and caribou between kisses and touches while the rain beat against the casement windows of the northeast wing where fae royalty had slept and made more royal fae for three hundred years.

  The critical calculations began with cruising speed, which fully loaded and fueled would average a hundred fifty-five miles per hour. Cumulative endurance range equaled four hours or seven hundred thirteen miles. In layman terms, that meant whatever came first.

  He had to calculate what “fully loaded” meant, which included Aelsong’s weight. He knew it would be hopeless to ask her that and trust that the answer would be correct. He did know a little about females. So the only way to solve that problem was with a guess.

  Day One.

  Starting with Aberdeen, ninety-two miles from where he sat, they would take off from a small airfield and be over land for about fifteen minutes, over the North Sea for about fifteen minutes, over the highlands of Scotia for another fifteen minutes and then they would be flying north by northwest over the Norwegian Sea en route to the Faroe Islands.

  The Faroes were under Danish sovereignty, which could not be better for Duff. He and the Danish prince had both been educated at Eton and had gotten along well. If there was any issue at the airstrip in the Faroes, a phone call would resolve it. Three hundred sixty-eight miles. A little over two hours.

  Of course he could go further, but they needed to stop because of the way the next two legs would play out. If they didn’t spend the night in the Faroes, they’d be forced to stop at Rekjavik where he would be recognized and pandemonium would follow. They had to get to Canada before the hounds of Hades, otherwise known as paparazzi, were set free. And, he thought, they could do worse than a staggeringly beautiful, like-nowhere-else-on-Earth stop for their first night together.

  That stopped his train of thought in its tracks. His first night with his mate, the first time he would make love to her for that matter, would be the Faroe Islands in the middle of the Norwegian Sea. Keeping that in mind he started scanning available lodging.

  Since it was a far cry from tourist season, there was plenty available. He found a guesthouse described as unpretentious, honest and delightful. “Read between the lines,” he muttered to himself, at the same time thinking plain was okay. He and his intended were beyond being impressed by luxury. He jotted down the info including a note on the private annex building which he would send off to Innes so that arrangements could be made that were not traceable back to him.

  Day Two.

  They would make a stop for fuel, a piddle and food in Iceland, which was the only real worry. Keeping their heads down, weather and gods willing, they would get as far as the Kalusuk settlement at Tasiilaq, Eastern Greenland on the Denmark Strait just south of the Arctic Circle before dark and spend the night in a cold, but truly picturesque village.

  Greenland was politically neutral and not a concern.

  Day Three.

  Stop for fuel, food and a piddle at Igaluit, Canadian Territory, Arctic. On to Happy Valley-Goose Bay, Newfoundland and Labrador. Stop for the night.

  From the time they reached Igaluit they would be able to breathe easy because, even if no formal announcement had been made, they would be under protection of the Canadian government and could not be reclaimed by the Irish and Scotia monarchies without Canada’s permission.

  Day Four.

  Make it to Quebec by two o’clock where the Prime Minister would meet them. The Prime Minister would have an escort waiting at the airport and a press conference set up at the Fairmont Le Chateau Frontenac. From that time on, the world would know.

  It was anybody’s guess whether the families would demand they return or simply disown them.

  Day Five.

  They would continue their journey to Winnepeg with a stop in Sault Ste Marie. He would ask the Prime Minister for a small security detail just to be sure that they could get to a hotel and back to the airport without a problem.

  Day Six.

  Stop in Saskatoon then on to Prince George where a hangar had been leased for the plane. The hangar came with a little hostel style efficiency in the back where they could spend the night.

  Day Seven.

  Buy two cars. Buy supplies. Drive a hundred and fifty miles to McBride and start settling into their new home.

  There it was. What could go wrong? A lot.

  As to how to anticipate every eventuality and put a Plan B in place, that was easy. Give up. It couldn’t be done. The Fates claim their share of outcomes in spite of the best of plans. And that’s that.

  CHAPTER 5

  Duff spent most of Sunday pacing up and down, going over it all again and again looking for flaws. He was also giving himself a crash course on things most peo
ple take for granted like budgeting money, trying to decide how much you can spend after you pay for necessities, which Duff had never thought about. Ever.

  It was a whole new world. And it was exciting.

  There were so many unknowns. He didn’t know if they’d be well-received, if the locals would get used to them, accept them and allow them to simply live their lives. He stopped in front of the mantel whereupon sat a collection of photos. He couldn’t say he’d miss his father at all, but he did feel pangs of both guilt and sadness about leaving without telling his mother goodbye.

  He was so antsy by nine thirty that he couldn’t stay indoors anymore. If he was caught leaving the palace, there would be the devil to pay. If he wasn’t mobbed, then he certainly would get the speech about the dangers of going about with security, meaning assassination or kidnapping. He put on a black skull cap that covered his hair, pulled a navy hoodie low over his brow, and kept his head down.

  It was dark. It was late. It was Sunday night in early March. There were not that many people out and about and those that were would not be expecting the prince of the fae to be out walking alone late at night. So he stuck his hands in the fleecy front pouch and took a brisk jog up Calton Hill. There was nobody up there but an old man walking a dog.

  It wasn’t quite ten, but he couldn’t wait a minute longer. He took a chance that she was as eager as he and already situated somewhere private to accept his call.

  “My love.”

  He closed his eyes when he heard her voice, like a lick of honey.

  “There you are.”

  “Here I am.”

  “Do you know how hard it was to find out what xoxo means?”

  She laughed and the sound pulled all his nerve endings up tight like she was the symphony conductor and his body was a collection of instruments for her to play.

  “’Twas a puzzle then?”

  “Aye. And I was already too busy gettin’ us away from here.” There was no response except that he thought he might have heard a little catch in her breathing. Finally, he said, “Song? Do you hear me?”

  She started to say his name, but her voice did break and then she was crying. “Duffy. Are we really goin’ then?”

  He didn’t know exactly what he’d been expecting, but he hadn’t expected tears. He sat down on a bench that was cold through his jeans. “Thursday mornin’ early. You tell The Order you’re goin’ home for a visit. Pack your warmest. ‘Tis really cold where we’re goin’. And take your keepsakes cause we can no’ know for sure we’ll be comin’ back.”

  “I know.”

  “Be sure. ‘Tis a bell we can no’ unring. You can say no, but do it now.”

  “Stop your teasin’, Duff. ‘Tis you I’m wantin’ and no other. And ye know it.”

  His chest filled with the burn of that. “If what you’re describin’ is only a little of what I’m feelin’… Be ready to go by seven. I’m havin’ someone drive you to Aberdeen. I’ll be waitin’ for you there.”

  “Someone? Who?”

  He smiled. “Someone with outrageous pink hair who’s married to your brother.” Pause. “Speechless, are ye? I have a feelin’ I should relish these times as they may be few and far between.”

  “‘Tis easy to say when you’re standin’ who knows where? ‘Twill be a sight different when I can get my hands on you.”

  Duff lowered his voice. “Aye. ‘Twill be different when I can get my hands on you.”

  The words hung in the air with all the promise, anticipation, and excitement of fanfare. Her body recognized his meaning and tone and responded with a shiver that was more like a quake. If she had known that he was standing atop Calton Hill, and that a dash out the door, down the street, five blocks and a breathless run straight up could bring her into his arms, she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself. She took a deep breath and let it out. “Aye. Agree.”

  “Song.”

  “Aye, love.”

  “Do no’ forget your passport.”

  “I will no’.”

  “Four days. Will ne’er be without you again.”

  “Four days.”

  Song didn’t need as much as two seconds to regret leaving her job at The Order just as she hadn’t hesitated to accept when she’d initially been approached by the recruiter. Her brother had never talked to her about his life, what he did, the organization or anything about it, of course, but her talent enabled her to see quite a lot. She’d been dazzled by the idea of being a cog in a wheel of such monumental importance and, though she might not ever be a legendary vampire slayer like her brother, she was eager to make a difference with her own gift.

  She had spent the entire time in testing. Not doing testing, being tested. A year and a half later, she had not been called upon to do one thing of consequence other than the Alternate-Storm project for which she was specifically requested, by name, by the temporary acting head of Jefferson Unit, Glendennon Catch. As soon as the results were compiled and filed, she was sent right back to testing and all resumed, as if the trip to New Jersey had been a dream. Nothing had changed. At all.

  Elora had to do some quick thinking to come up with a plan that would enable her to help her sister-in-law without lying to Rammel outright. She wouldn’t be needed at all if it wasn’t for the fact that Aelsong was an elf living in the Fae Kingdom. Otherwise, she could simply walk out the front door, smile at the doorman, and stroll away.

  She could do that regardless and, if she never spoke, she’d be safe because certainly no one could tell the difference between elf or fae on sight. But anyone could be alarmed or put in danger and vocalize spontaneously. If she was caught alone and discovered, she would be assumed to be a spy. Someone had to help her get away and Elora was the only candidate.

  Fortunately, she was able to talk Litha into combining a short shopping trip to London with a one night stopover at the apartment The Order kept for Storm and Litha at Headquarters in Edinburgh. All Elora had to do was make sure she was there Wednesday night.

  With a lot of fast talking about how much she needed a break from Helm and trainees and assassins, it was hard to argue with all that. So Rammel gave his blessings and, of course, Litha provided transportation. After Litha gave the bell service a tip, not much of one because they didn’t have any luggage, he closed the door to their suite at the Hyde Park Hotel and left. She walked through the parlor into the bedroom where Elora had sprawled across one of the overdone beds.

  “Spill.”

  “Spill?”

  “Right here.” Litha pointed to a spot on the rug with her shoe. “Must have tumped the tea cart.”

  “Oh.” Elora got up on an elbow to look.

  “No! Not that kind of spill. The kind that means now is the time to shed the light of truth on what’s going on here.” Litha waved her arm at their surroundings. “You’re not a spend-the-day-at-Harrods kind of girl. You’re a shop-online-while-Ram’s-watching-rugby-on-TV kind of girl.”

  “Maybe I did need a couple of days away.”

  “Maybe you did. But not for shopping.” As Litha’s eyes narrowed, Elora’s got bigger and more innocent looking in inverse proportion. “So what did you need the time away for?”

  Elora sniffed and looked away. “I admit it wasn’t shopping. Although, now that we’re here, we do have to shop since there’s no way to ride the passes with luggage.”

  “Elora.”

  “Well.”

  “Spit it out.”

  “I can’t spit it out without implicating you and I need you plausibly ignorant.”

  Litha took a deep breath that ended with shaking her head and that turned into a chuckle. “I couldn’t possibly be more scandalized than to have my best friend think it would be possible for me to be plausibly ignorant. Whatever happened to good old-fashioned plain-Jane ignorance without the modifiers?”

  “Okay. So I knew it was unlikely that I’d get this past you. I guess I just hoped you’d let it slide.”

  “If you need me to play dumb f
or you, I will. Just as long as you know I’m not dumb and I’m not one of those you’re trying to play.”

  “Oh, for all the gods, Litha.” Elora slumped on the bed. “When you say it like that, you make me feel like something that should slither off through the storm drain never to be seen or heard from again. The one I’m trying to protect isn’t dumb either.”

  Litha sat on the other bed facing Elora’s. “You kept me propped up when Rosie was on the way. You helped keep things together when Storm was lost. After all that you don’t think you could trust me with anything?”

  Elora sat up and cocked her head. “Sure. It’s not that. Not that at all. It’s that I don’t want to put you in that position if it isn’t necessary. And it’s not when you could just be my partner in shopping crime.”

  Elora’s brows were wrinkling in the middle.

  Litha smiled. “Okay. Tea and a toes up?”

  Elora grinned. “Yeah. It was a hard trip. Are you going to call room service or conjure up the tea?”

  “Already checked the closets. No cauldron,” Litha deadpanned as she reached for the room service menu.

  She set the menu down in her lap.

  “What is it?” Elora asked.

  “I know where my mother grew up. I even know where I was born and where my people lived for generations. It’s funny. I’d never had the slightest desire to go there or even thought of it until just now.” She looked closely at Elora. “Would you like to go there with me some time?”

  “Of course. I’d love it.”