Roads & Royalty (Caprice Chronicles Book 3)

by Selena Page

  Jack grinned at her. "These things leave a confused and lost human behind. They inhabit the body, and I hit them with mystical energy, not with physical."

  Amber frowned. "I hit them with a machete."

  "Hey, you have to hit them with a truck to leave a real dent when there's a skin-donner inside."

  "Skin-donner, really?"

  "Skin-donner. There's a word in the Seelie tongue and another one in the Unseelie tongue, but most of us call them skin-donners and that's it. If you'd ever seen one on the spirit plane, you'd understand why."

  "So wait, they're a type of spirit that can possess a human being, but while they're in that human, they give the host extra strength and stamina?"

  "But not speed. If anything, they take away speed."

  "And they were after you why?"

  "Heck if I know." He shrugged liquidly. "Maybe they were after you."

  Amber sighed as she got the car started. "Could be, I suppose. So, if we don't know why they were after one of us, we don't know if there'll be more. What about the Palace Guard?" She looked in the rearview mirror, but there was nothing behind her but the long, barely-paved road, fields, and hedgerow after hedgerow.

  Jack coughed. Amber peeked at him out of the corner of her eye; he looked embarrassed. "They like chasing me?"

  "Jack, if we don't know why the High Court is after you, we're not going to be able to escape them."

  "We can't . . . I can't escape them. That's the point of the Palace Guard. They'll keep coming and coming until I either give in and go home, or figure out a way to convince them that, uh, that the reason they're dragging me home isn't legit and they should let me go."

  "I got that part. The part they were all shouting at you and huffing at you and decrying at you, Jacanamo Tyberius Henry Angoulême de Antonio Isobelo."

  "Oh, don't," he complained. "That's the name used for yelling at me."

  "Somehow I have a feeling I could get a lot of mileage out of it."

  Although it wasn't yelling she wanted to do, and he was distracting her again. She huffed at him. "Why do they want you back home?"

  "Look, can we escape the Palace Guard and then talk about it?" He was shifting in his seat like she'd caught him doing something naughty. It should have been funny, but it wasn't. Amber shot him a frown.

  "Just tell me what they need you for, and I can help you figure out how to get around it."

  The roads in this area were smoother. She really ought to get onto a back road before the Guard caught up with them, but she wanted to focus on Jack right now. It wasn't so much that there was something he wasn't telling her--she was pretty sure there were not just volumes but entire libraries he wasn't telling her--but it seemed to make him squirm. She found the squirming far too fascinating.

  "Road, road," he complained. "If you want to stare at me, maybe I should drive."

  "Can you?" She didn't bother to hide her surprise.

  "Yeah, of course. Being High Court doesn't mean being old-fashioned, you know. Or ancient or stuck in the past or some sort of Dracula stereotype."

  "Yeah, I get that, but a lot of supernaturals don't adapt all that well, do they?" She kept her eyes on the road for a minute, letting him think he'd managed to sidetrack her one more time.

  "OK, yeah. My family, they don't function in the modern age. But that's part of why I do. I mean, someone's got to live in the century we're in."

  She eyed him sidelong. "So exactly how much do you live in this century? I mean, the High Court, they have traditions going back thousands of years."

  He made a muffled noise of chagrin. "How are you this determined? I mean, is it physically possible to be as ridiculously stuck to a point as you are? Even Bulldogs let go eventually."

  "Well, let's see, you told me the Palace Guard don't stop. So I'm not the only determined one here." She glanced in her rearview mirror again. There was nobody behind them: no police, no guards. "So why are they after you? Some age-old tradition?"

  "Marriage," he sighed into the headrest. "Marriage, all right? They want me to get married. And they have this lovely bride all picked out."

  Amber quashed a sudden surge of jealousy. He was High Court, he was magic, and she was a Caprice who did not like the supernatural. There was no reason to be jealous. "A bride."

  "She's not an awful person or anything, I mean." He sounded apologetic. "But she is High Court through and through, and she tires me. She likes all the rules and all the pomp and pageantry, and I . . . I don't."

  Amber wanted to look at him. She settled for frowning and peeking out of the corner of her eye. "You're not a showy sort of guy?" She wondered if he believed that.

  "Never have been. I'm the black sheep of the family, and that's something in a family known for being more black sheep than white."

  "Me, too." Amber smiled lopsidedly. "I've always been the weird one, or maybe I'm the normal one and my family is weird."

  "Normal?" He scoffed. "You took on a skin-donner with a machete."

  "Well, I wasn't going to stand there and let him attack me."

  "Who carries a machete in their car?"

  "Someone who knows that it's a lot easier to explain a piece of yard equipment in the trunk of your car than, say, a sword. I mean, not that you're carrying a sword."

  He shifted in his seat. "No, just two long knives. Swords are a bit difficult to hide, even for me."

  "Even for you?" She could guess. But she wanted to know.

  He shrugged. She could see the movement out of the corner of her eye. "I am pretty good at certain magic. Anything that involves disguise. Misdirection. That sort of thing."

  "Shocker," she muttered. Misdirection's not a bad idea, though. She drove five minutes in the wrong direction, getting them as close to the lake as she could without getting off private property. "Can you let off a little power here? Enough to get their attention? Trust me," she added with a wry grin. "I know what I'm doing out here."

  Jack smiled back at her, although she thought he might be a little uncertain. "Sure." He twisted until he could put his left arm out the window and let off a series of little sparks. They hovered in the air, looking like spots in one's vision unless you looked closely. "Those ought to stay for a bit."

  "Good. Hold on." Amber drove down the little cottage road at the absolute max speed the dirt lane could handle, then made a few quick turns, before settling on one of her favorite hidden roads. It was smooth, and it wasn't well traveled. She could go as fast as she wanted to away from their little misdirection. "That might buy us a few minutes."

  Chapter 6

  Jack had found himself in any number of improbable situations. It was practically his trademark--impossible attitudes, unlikely scenarios, ridiculous escapes. It was how he'd gotten out of New York City--this time, the time before, the time before that.

  For some reason, sitting in a car explaining this to a spell-less witch seemed more improbable than all of them put together.

  Some of that was the situation. He'd been running away for so long that he never stopped to think about what it would sound like to someone else, much less a human someone else. Part of it was Amber. She was, well, she was a spell-less witch from a family that took so much for granted that she acted like her last name should explain everything.

  Maybe in Upstate, it did. But for Jack, it made her a mystery.

  She cleared her throat. "So if it's not what I think it is, what is it? You're not a High Court noble running away from his position and title because someone wants to marry him? You're not a fugitive from Their Majesties' whim and will because you don't like the poor woman that they set you up with?"

  "She's not some poor woman, all right? She's older than me, richer than I am, and she, well," Jack trailed off. "That part's wrong."

  "Glad to hear," she answered dryly. "Does that mean I have the rest of it right?"

  He banged his head against the headrest. "You don't have it wrong. I'm running away from a High Court marriage, because I find the
woman rather unpleasant. Not exactly frightening, unless you think about being bound to her for eternity."

  He hadn't ever said it out loud. I'm running away from marriage. It sounded far less clever and glamorous than it had in his head when he'd made the plan and started running.

  "But you said the Palace Guard keeps coming. Unless . . ." Amber pursed her lips together. "A.B."

  "Alicia Blackburn, Lady Alikianesta Thibideaua Lakiesta Blackburn," he agreed. Hollowness settled in his stomach that felt like dread and something like amusement. Was Amber jealous? Plenty of women had gotten jealous in situations involving Jack before--he was practically known for it--but it seemed far too common a reaction for someone like Amber.

  "That's why you're going after her. That's what makes her different?"

  "Well, she's known for being a bit of a rebel," he tried. "I heard she was strong, but that she never swung her weight around."

  He was cut off by Amber snorting. "You've heard? So you're chasing all over the state looking for this woman, and you've never even met her? Are you sure she's real? Someone who uses a different pseudonym in every town, who's known mostly for her ability to make trouble, and who shows up only in historical records. I mean, do High Court sorts have urban legends because that's what she sounds like to me."

  Jack bristled. "She's real! My uncle Toma used to tell stories about her all the time. She's the sort of woman every High Court . . ." He coughed. "OK, no. She's the sort of woman a High Court black sheep wants to marry."

  "So she's an ideal. Because she's a rebel and she doesn't swing her weight around. Sounds like exactly the sort of person they'd want you to marry." Sarcasm dripped from her words.

  Jack shrugged defensively. "They don't have to like it if I can present them with a fait accompli. As long as I'm already wedded by the time the Palace Guard catches up with me, there's nothing they can do."

  "The High Court doesn't do divorce?"

  "Well, they do, but it's a complex ritual that requires the complete consent of both parties. You can't just say you two, get divorced and expect it to stick. Of course, marriage is the same way."

  "So how can they stick you with a marriage you don't want?"

  "Because, marry her or your family will take your Name and all that comes with it is a compelling argument. It doesn't have to be enthusiastic consent, consent."

  "That sounds like an amazingly gray area. It's got to be a load of fun, being in the High Court." Sarcastic turn of phrase or not, Jack thought there was something else behind Amber's words.

  "Oh, it's a joy. Hey, where are we, anyway?" There were buffalo on the other side of a thin fence, real buffalo, shaggy and acting like they weren't out of place.

  "We're heading toward Geneva. But we got a bit sidetracked and turned around. Why? Want to go somewhere else?"

  "Oh, uh, no. I was just curious." They passed a church with a limo out front. It was the middle of the week; did people get married in the middle of the week?

  "Worried about putting your life in my hands?" she teased.

  "I wish I knew what they were after." Jack frowned. Was he worrying? He was. This was ridiculous. He didn't worry. "So, Geneva? That's . . ." No, he couldn't even pretend to know where it was. "North, right?"

  "North," she sighed. "Right. If you pull out the top book of the photo albums, there's a map in there. You can see a trail. Down in Binghamton, Owego, Cornell, then Taylorsburg. Your A.B. was heading north and a bit west the whole time. She might have stopped somewhere else, but that's too close to your Guard, so we can dig into the library in Geneva and see what they have in their local history section. And then you can go get married to your perfect, older woman." She snapped her mouth shut and stared at the road.

  Jack swallowed. She's been attacked by skin-donners. She's getting hurt, and it's going to get worse. "This is a good place to pull over." He glanced behind him. "We're not being followed."

  "What?" She slowed down and stared at him. "We're in the middle of nowhere. There's nothing here but cows and deer, and maybe more of those skin-donners. There's not even anyone passing by for you to hitchhike."

  "I'll figure something out. Magic, remember?"

  "You said you couldn't use magic without alerting the Palace Guard where you were." She wasn't pulling over yet. What was she doing? Her hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel, and her jaw was set.

  "Well, then I'll walk. I can walk a long time before I get tired. Believe you me, I've tried it. It's not fun after the first twenty-four hours, but it can't take that long to get somewhere interesting. Besides," he added, hoping it would make her listen, "I'm a lot less visible wandering through hedgerows and woods than I am on a main road in your ugly little car."

  She frowned but kept driving. "You didn't think it was an ugly car when it was saving your hide."

  "Look, just pull over and let me out. You're going to be a lot happier and a lot safer with me out of your life."

  "Like you get to decide that?" she scoffed. "I would have been happier with you never walking into my life, but of course you had to wander into my town. You know what?" She pulled over. "Here. Get out. Walk. Die. Go find your ridiculous old lady bride and leave me to my quiet life."

  She was angry, that much was obvious. Jack wasn't quite sure why, but never in his long life had he gotten very far by asking an angry woman why are you angry at me? Instead, he waited until she put the car in park, and he studied her. Her face was beautiful, even while mad. She looked like she belonged here, the trees and the fields behind her. And she was staring back at him, searching his face for something.

  She was either going to punch him or kiss him, and it looked like she wasn't quite sure which it was going to be. Jack didn't hold his breath, but he tried not to move too much while she was deciding.

  "Oh, hell, why not?" She shook her head as if already regretting the decision. Jack tried not to feel too insulted by that. "Then you'll be off to your A.B., and it won't matter anyway."

  "She's not my A.B.," he protested, which wasn't the brightest thing he could have said, but she was making him feel stupid and a little bit desperate. He leaned in before she changed her mind and kissed her.

  He kept his hands nice and gentlemanly--that is, he meant to keep his hands gentlemanly, but they seemed to have a mind of their own. He started with one hand holding hers and the other on her shoulder, but soon he moved to her hair and the small of her back.

  She kissed like she was angry at something. Her hand on his neck was rough, nails digging into his skin. Her body pressed up against his, never mind the uncomfortable position, and her lips pressed to his.

  The first kiss had been nice. This one felt like nothing Jack had ever felt before. He could hear her heartbeat pulsing along with his. Her power pulsed under her skin. She smelled like dawn after a thunderstorm, and she felt strong and soft at the same time, moving with his hands, pushing herself against him, pulling him toward her. He groaned quietly into the kiss and was surprised to find she was doing the same.

  There was a meadow right there. He should lay her down on the grass and taste all of her. He should run off with her into the sunset, where the Palace Guard would never find them. He should . . .

  She pulled away, looking rueful and stunned. "You kiss like a god, you know."

  Jack wasn't sure if that was a complaint or a compliment. "Thank you? You kiss like a thunderstorm."

  She raised her eyebrows. "Like a thunderstorm?" she repeated. "That's--"

  "Maybe I should try again, just to be sure," he interrupted. He was rewarded by a wry smile from her.

  "Maybe I should, too. I could be wrong about you kissing like a god, you know. Maybe you only kiss like a demigod."

  "We can't have that," he agreed. A moment later he was forced to admit he'd been wrong. "Hurricane," he gasped.

  "At least," she grinned at him. "Credit where credit is due."

  "And what about me?" Jack couldn't help but ask.

  "Storms and apocalyp
ses. Wild worlds and floods. Wow." She breathed in deeply. "You kiss like a minor miracle." Something strange went on in her expression. "Your A.B. will love it. You should have no problem convincing her to tie the knot with you."

  Jack took a breath. A.B. Yes. He had to do that. "Yeah." He wiped his mouth slowly. "Yeah, she probably will. I mean, I'm known for this sort of thing. I'm sure I can charm some old High Court Duchess." It came out a little thin, but he made himself pull away, if only by an inch.

  "No matter how much of a troublemaker she is," Amber offered.

  "Yeah, well. That's my forte, right? Troublemaking?" He reached for the door handle. "I should get going. The Palace Guard probably won't bother you, and I don't know what was up with the skin-donners, but you'll be safe to go back to your ordinary life. With your ordinary job digging up strange historical figures and your ordinary hobby of attracting strange men."

  What was he doing?

  Amber pulled back, frowning. Oh, good. It looked like what he was doing was pissing her off. "Yeah. Well, you enjoy your life. Glad I could help or, well, whatever. If I find anything on this A.B. person while I'm doing my boring, ordinary job, I'll--oh, wait, I won't contact you. I won't know where to find you."

  "That's the thing about me," Jack agreed. What was he doing?

  He was pissing her off. That had been what he was trying to do, right? Send her away so she didn't get even more wrapped up in his currently messy life. Send her away so he didn't drink from her power--freely given power, delicious power, power like spice cookies and a fireplace in wintertime--until she was nothing but a husk. "That's the thing about me," he repeated slowly. "Nobody ever knows where to find me."

  "Except the Palace Guard."

  "Yeah. And the skin-donners. Be safe, Amber of the Caprices." He got out of the car before he could change his mind again, trying not to think about that kiss. "I wish you a pleasant and boring life without the invasion of the supernatural."

  "Me, too." She watched him go, but her hands were on the wheel. He noticed her knuckles were white but tried to ignore it.

  She didn't want the supernatural in her life. She didn't want a wayward High Court, especially not one that was going to have to get married in the next month, one way or the other. She certainly didn't want the threat of the Palace Guard and the skin-donners and whatever else was chasing him, risking her life and putting her right in the middle of the weird.