Roads & Royalty (Caprice Chronicles Book 3)

by Selena Page

  "Women with unknown names and cute aliases. Beautiful, mysterious women." She shot him a smirk over her shoulder that seemed fraught with sharp edges.

  "You think you know me so well, don't you?" He moved closer so he could look over her shoulder.

  "I know your type." She was flipping through a scrapbook. "This is Miss Eliza Manning's book of cuttings, donated to the library by her niece on the event of her death approximately thirty years ago. Miss Eliza loved to keep track of everything going on in town, and she annotated all of her clippings." Her finger landed on a handwritten note, the penmanship elegant and so full of flourishes it was hard to decipher. "So here's something from 1946." The clipping was yellowed, the handwriting moving over the side of it. "It's a cakewalk at the local Methodist church--racy. Anna Beauvais won second prize and startled everyone by kissing the pastor. The note says, left town the next day."

  It could be the woman he'd heard about back home, although kissing a man of the cloth sounded rather benign for her. A.B. liked to cause trouble.

  "So she was here." Jack chewed on his lip. "But left town. I wonder which way she headed?" I hope she hasn't gone tame. I hope she's worth the trouble, or I'm in, well, trouble.

  "Well, if we go back a bit--" She flipped a page. "Maybe we can see where she came from. That would give her a direction." Amber was looking at the book and not at him, as if this were a solely academic problem. Maybe for her, it was.

  "She was probably coming from New York City. That's where . . . " Where the Court is. Jack changed direction before he could give away secrets. This woman might talk like she knew what was going on, but he couldn't assume anything--or he shouldn't, no matter how much she smelled like barely-contained power. "That's where she probably came from."

  "Yeah. But that doesn't tell us what route this A.B. was taking. It's not like everything's a straight line. Here." She put her finger on another clipping. "She'd recently completed a course at Cornell. Of course she had." She shook her head, looking irritated again. What was her problem? "My nice, normal school."

  "What, Cornell? You're kidding, right?" Jack scoffed.

  She opened her mouth to answer, looking immensely annoyed. Jack was beginning to assume that was her default expression.

  The door slammed open. Her expression went from annoyance to anger.

  Jack breathed in a whiff of her scent, all fireworks and incoming storms. He had time enough to note how delicious she was when she was angry, and then he caught sight of the people in the doorway.

  He crouched behind the desk in a hurry, but it was too late. Six Palace Guards crowded through the narrow doorway, and the man in front was shouting.

  "Jacanamo Tyberius Henry Angoulême de Antoniono Isobelo. It is time to come with us!"

  "Shit." He looked over at the woman, who'd dropped behind the desk with him. No chance she'd help him. She couldn't even stand him.

  "Friends of yours?" she muttered.

  "They might think so, but I'm of a different opinion, if you know what I mean."

  "I take it you don't want to go with them?"

  "I'm not the going-along-meekly sort, you know."

  "Somehow, I'm not surprised."

  "Jacanamo Tyberius, you can come willingly, or we can drag you, but you're coming either way."

  Amber's jaw set in a stubborn look. She gave Jack a little push. "Assholes," she whispered. "Backdoor is down this aisle and to the left, behind a file cabinet. Go."

  Was she helping him or trying to get rid of him? Either way, she probably wasn't in league with the Palace Guard, not with the way she talked about the supernatural. "You're the best." Jack shifted his weight, ready to run. Something stopped him.

  If he left her behind, they wouldn't be kind. She smelled like power, and she'd helped him. He grabbed her hand and muttered a quick spell. "The left, you said?" He started moving, the closest to a run he could do while crawling and pulling her along.

  "Hey! Hey, you don't . . ." She fell silent as the Guard moved forward and let him lead her between the piles and shelves of books.

  "Jacanamo Tyberius, don't be stupid. Their Majesties will be patient if you return soon, but if you make them wait, they will grow unhappy. And you know what they're like when they're unhappy."

  He did. Heavy-handed and prone to overreaction. He could hear the Guard moving closer, knocking over papers and shoving aside books. The aisle she'd indicated was narrow, barely wide enough for the two of them to sneak through. It would slow the Guard down for at least a minute or two.

  "Leave your little consort behind. You know it's not going to be allowed by Their Majesties. You know what awaits you back home."

  Jack tensed, waiting for the girl to complain and give away their position. When she didn't, he wasted precious seconds turning to look at her.

  She was almost snarling, aiming a glare in the direction of the Guard. She gestured him forward, nearly pushing him.

  More papers fell. They were getting closer. Jack scrambled behind the file cabinet, was that--there was nothing here but an old map!

  She shoved him out of the way and pushed the map aside enough to reveal a doorknob. Jack took a breath and quietly turned the knob. It clicked, sounding loud in the cramped quarters, and he pulled open the door as little as possible. They scrambled through, closing it behind them, and nearly tumbled down the stairs.

  It might not have been the most shameful sneak away down a back staircase that Jack had ever snuck, but it was definitely in the top ten.

  The woman sidled past him to push the lower door open. Sunlight flooded in, blinding them for a moment. "The alley's clear," she hissed. "You can get out of here."

  "You've got to come with me." He reclaimed her wrist. She was warm, her wrist strong but her skin soft. His fingers lingered for a moment. He clutched tighter and gave her a gentle tug. "They're going to blame you if they find you, and they're not nice people."

  "Why are they after you?"

  Jack hesitated. In the light of day, it seemed a silly thing to admit to a stranger. "They're not happy with me." It was true, as far as it went. "And they want me to come back to--"

  "To Their Majesties. I heard. The question is which Majesties?"

  "Don't be silly. How many Majesties do you know of?" He looked back and forth down the alley.

  "Well, at the last count, I was up to seventeen, and that's without leaving the east coast. This world is a crowded place when you're magical and full of yourself, Jack." She started walking, not seeming to mind that he was still holding her by the wrist. He followed along rather than yank her back toward him. "Now, where can I take you to get rid of you?"

  She was insufferable. And she didn't seem to have any common sense when it came to her safety. "How about two towns north? Then maybe I can get back on the track of the person I'm looking for." That would also get Amber out of the way for at least a couple hours, by which time the search would have hopefully died down.

  "Yeah, yeah, I can do that. What is it with people like you?" She headed down the alley, dragging him with her. "My car's just over here."

  "People like me? What's that supposed to mean?"

  She turned and aimed such a look at Jack that he thought he might burst into flames on the spot. "People like you. Magical people, supernatural people, strange people."

  "You make it sound like a disease."

  "Have you met yourself? Come on, they're going to find the door or come around the front pretty soon. She tugged on him again.

  Jack let himself be pulled. If he could get her into her car, they'd be a lot safer. Even the Palace Guard couldn't run as fast as a car.

  They turned the corner into a small parking lot. Jack yanked her back behind the wall of some building.

  "Hey!" She kept her voice low, at least. "What?"

  "Three men, standing in the parking lot. They're wearing a glamour, but they're Palace Guard."

  She raised her eyebrows, ready to say something--probably something sharp and sarcastic.
Before she could, the door behind them opened. Jack swore again. They'd delayed too long.

  "Go!" He shoved her. "Get behind cover. Don't let them see you. Don't let them get close enough to smell you, whatever you do."

  He added the last in a low hiss. Amber raised her eyebrows at him as if he'd been explaining how to tie her shoes and took off, sliding low to the ground and not coming out of a crouch.

  He gave her a moment to get out of sight and then he stood up and faced the Palace Guard.

  Chapter 3

  She should have known better. She had known better. She had even acted as if she knew better--right until strange men showed up at her door chasing the incredibly-nice-smelling guy who just happened to be being chased by, what, the guard of the King and Queen of Something in New York?

  Why couldn't she ever end up with a nice, normal, human guy?

  Amber got around the corner without being seen. The problem was, there were two people standing in front of her car, and she had no way of getting past them. And if they were waiting there, they knew she was involved with their target.

  Why were the nice, normal guys always scared off before she managed to get to a second date?

  Probably because the crazy ones came with things like the Palace Guard.

  She could probably walk around to the front of the building and sneak back into the library, head upstairs and act like this had nothing to do with her.

  Because it really, honestly, had not a thing to do with her. She had enough problems with magic on her own, in her family, without worrying about someone else's problems with supernatural law enforcement.

  Of course, most supernatural law enforcement didn't see it that way. Either she was a human bystander, and thus she'd be mind-wiped or something less pleasant, or she was an associate--or a consort! Like she'd done anything to deserve being dragged along. She knew how these people thought.

  Where did Jack go? He'd been right behind her, and when she'd turned the corner, he'd disappeared.

  A shout came from the alleyway, and then a series of noises that sounded like a fight, grunts and thuds and metal clanging against metal. The occasional flash of light told her they weren't pulling punches--magical or otherwise--even though they were in a public place.

  That meant the cops would be here any moment. And the cops were decidedly human, as far as Amber had been able to tell. That was one of the things she liked about this town: human police. Human mayor. Human librarian. And maybe a mostly-human Caprice for an assistant archivist, but she hardly counted away from her family.

  At least, that was supposed to be the idea. She snuck a few more feet down the wall. Right now, the garbage cans were blocking line-of-sight, but if she stood up, the guards at the car would see her.

  Someone was moving toward her. Amber tried to look casual, not involved, and still be somehow in a position to catch a glimpse of what was going on.

  "Hey!" That was Jack, wasn't it?

  She glanced toward the alleyway, where hands were waving. Was he trying to get her attention? What sort of idiot was he?

  "Hey! Over here, aren't you looking for me?"

  Oh. The guard looked up at him. Neither of them moved.

  "Oh, for crying out loud, you can't be budged away from your post when the Pr . . . when your target is standing in front of you? What were you hired for? Looks? It sure wasn't martial skill! Look at your buddies--oh, wait, you can't. They've all fallen down like a kids' song."

  What was he doing? Amber glared at him, but he was ignoring her. And one of the guards took a step forward.

  Jack amped up the taunting. "And you know what that means, right? If one of them is the captain--well, right now that makes you acting captain. And I know how much Their Majesties love it when you come back empty-handed from a mission. What's more, you don't know if your fellows are dead or alive, and if you were standing there gape-jawed and stupid while your target killed your captain, what does that make you?"

  The guard took another step forward, while his compatriot looked as if he was guarding Buckingham Palace and not Amber's rather cheap car. "You wouldn't kill them."

  "I wouldn't run from Their Majesties' ruling, either, and yet here we are."

  The guard took another step forward. "You have to go back. If it's not us, then it will be someone else. And the longer you run . . ."

  Jack flapped his hand lazily. "The longer I run, the more trouble I'll be in. Yes, yes. Unless I successfully run long enough that everyone's forgotten about me. Then I won't be in any trouble at all."

  He shifted his posture. He looked far less casual and far more ready for a fight, even if he was still grinning and his hands were waving and gesticulating.

  "I've thought this all out," he continued. "You didn't think someone like me would just run away from a direct order from Their Majesties without a plan, did you?"

  The guard coughed. "Yes?"

  Amber stifled a laugh. Whatever Jack was doing, it was getting the guard to move farther away from the car, while the second guard was hissing and trying to get his attention. It might be a ridiculous strategy, but it looked like it might be an effective one, too.

  "I'm wounded." Jack put his hand to his heart or at least where a human would have a heart. "I mean, you do know why I ran, don't you?"

  The incautious guard snorted. "You panicked. Their Majesties laid down a perfectly reasonable decree, and you freaked out and ran away. You couldn't handle it."

  Amber would never admit it, but she felt a little sympathy for Jack. Couldn't handle it and ran away sounded a bit too familiar.

  "Nah. Had nothing to do with that. Had everything to do with reminding everyone who I am."

  "I think they know who you are, Jacanamo." The guard took another step forward.

  "Ah, but there's who am and who I am," Jack offered cheerfully, if completely unclearly. "Tell me the truth, Greybriar--it is Greybriar, isn't it?"

  The guard scowled. "Greenbramble."

  "Greenbramble. Such a noble name. Tell me, if you were in my situation, what would you have done? Honestly and truly?"

  "I would have done as Their Majesties demanded."

  "Mmm. And I believe that, too." He turned around and did something that ended in a loud thump. "Sorry about that, someone was getting impatient. So, now, what do we--."

  His sentence ended as he vaulted into the air and landed on the hapless Greenbramble. Jack was far more competent than she'd imagined, and his moves looked practiced. Then again, Greenbramble was no slouch either.

  Amber was getting engrossed in the fight, leaning forward when Jack got a good blow in, leaning back when he should dodge, and wincing when he was hit. They'd started fighting like a bar brawl--if bar brawls involved men quite so formally dressed as Greenbramble--and then Greenie began casting a spell.

  He was muttering in a language she didn't recognize when his right hand turned green. Jack swore and then retorted with a long phrase. Not Latin, not Greek. Not the High Howl of the werewolves, either, but these guys didn't fight like werewolves, and they didn't smell like werewolves. If they were any sort of lycanthrope, Amber would eat her hat. She'd buy a hat, then eat it. Fae. She would have sworn, but she didn't want to bring attention to herself. She was messed up with High Court fae, and from the sounds of it, with a runaway Prince of New York City. She couldn't have ordinary problems, could she?

  Jack glowed bright white, and Greenbramble stepped backward, even as the second guard finally stepped away from Amber's car. She turned her attention to the fight. White light twisted like tentacles, while green light shot out in little force-bolts of energy, sometimes hitting the tentacles and sometimes seeming to bounce off Jack's leather jacket.

  Leather, of course. She wondered what this fight looked like to any human observers. They'd see something, of course; it was impossible to hide that much energy under any glamour unless you were the King and Queen of Faerie yourself.

  And yet nobody was coming, not the people in the library or the bo
utique on the other side, not the police, not the barista from Three Beans. It was as if the fight were happening in a bubble.

  A very messy bubble. The light show was turning nasty, as Jack's tentacles and Greenbramble's flashes were drawing very real, very red blood from both of them. And now the last guard was getting involved.

  That meant her car was free. It looked like Jack was holding his own just fine, but that was no reason not to give him a hand. Amber ran toward the car, keeping low and trying to stay out of sight. There had been at least seven guards. Jack couldn't have incapacitated five of them already; somebody had to be waiting at the front of the library or on the street.

  She'd never been so happy for remote start. She was twenty feet away when the car growled to life, and she checked to be sure the guards didn't notice. No, they were way too busy to care. The second guard was glowing a sort of sickly red color and throwing little lightning bolts at Jack, who was fending them off while doing something that looked way too much like choking Greenbramble with his white-light tentacles. They'd all found edged weapons somewhere, and there was quite a bit of blood flying. And not a cop or an innocent bystander to be seen.

  Jack was holding his own, but behind him one of the guards was standing up. She slid into the driver's seat, unlocked the passenger's door, and she kicked the car into reverse.

  She should just drive away. It was more than a bit tempting, but the aftereffects of this fight were still going to be here. There'd still be unconscious guards of faerie monarchs in the library's alleyway. She'd have to come back to the mess of a supernatural attack, and Amber had to admit to herself that part of what was driving her was that she'd never know why the guards were chasing Jack.

  She glanced at the parking lot, picked her route, and pulled the car around as close to the fight as she dared, the passenger's door pointing toward Jack.

  He punched Greenbramble in the face, smacked the red magic one on the back of the head, and jumped over three cars before sliding into the passenger's seat like some redneck cowboy.

  She took off the minute his butt touched the seat, turning down one of her favorite back roads at twice the speed limit before hitting a nice, sedate thirty-five miles per hour.