by Lucy Roy
“So, where are you stealing me off to?” Freya asked as he led her down the hall away from Ordona’s chambers.
“To wander,” he told her, smiling mysteriously as he snaked an arm around her waist. “And I’ve got something to show you.”
“Oh?” She arched a brow. “What might that be?”
“You’ll see. Did you and Mother come to any decisions?”
“Several, actually.” She smiled slyly up at him. “I was thinking a nice tangerine color for your doublet—velvet, of course—might go well with the beading on my dress. Cinderfish stew as an appetizer, topped with sun fruit—”
His eyebrows shot up. “Ah, so you think you’re funny, then?”
“Think? I know—”
Her words cut off with a laugh as the arm around her waist tightened and he pulled her down a narrow, darkened hallway. She sucked in a sharp breath as he pressed her back to the wall and put his lips against her ear, his breath feather soft against her neck.
“Tangerine is a horrid color for me and you,” he whispered. “And you’re allergic to sun fruit.”
Smiling, she leaned her head against the wall, putting a few inches of space between them. “You know, Your Highness, there was a time you’d slip bits of it into my porridge just to see what the result might be.”
He gave her a slow, wicked smile, then ran a thumb across her cheek. “Try to dress me up as a piece of fruit and I may revisit that idea.”
Shifting the fingers of one hand to talons, she walked the sharpened nails up his chest, then dragged one lightly across his chin. “I’d love to see you try.”
He froze, then a slow smile spread across his face and his eyes danced with mirth. “You wouldn’t dare mark your prince.”
“No?” She pressed her talon harder against his chin. “Are you sure about that?”
Gently, he took her hand, then pressed his lips to her palm, smiling in satisfaction when her claws retracted. “Will you let me kiss you, Freya?”
She laughed. “That’s quite a segue.” Then grinning, she tapped her cheek. “Alright. I’ll let you have one, right here.”
“Hmm. I think I can work with that.” His eyes hard on hers, he pulled her toward him, spreading his fingers against the small of her back as he lowered his lips to her neck. Her eyes widened in surprise at the press of his body, then she melted just a little as he ran his hand down her spine, teasing the soft skin just between the small ridges from where her wings spread. Softly, he trailed his lips up her neck and along her jaw, then grazed his teeth against her ear, sending a tingle shooting straight to her belly. Finally, he gripped her chin with his other hand and touched a soft kiss to her cheek that caused her insides to burn.
It took every ounce of willpower she had not to turn her head and let him take her mouth, as well.
“Satisfied?” she asked, her voice hardly a whisper.
Pulling back, he gave her a crooked smile and ran his hand up her back again. “Far from it.”
She cleared her throat and took a steadying breath. “Were you using your power on me?”
“Of course not!” His surprised expression turned smug. “It’s good to know I have such an effect on you, though.”
She rolled her eyes and shoved him back, immediately feeling the loss of his body so close to hers. “I thought there was something you wanted to show me?”
“Ah, yes. Shame on you for distracting me so thoroughly.” He took her hand and they began to walk down the wide, echoing hall at a meandering pace. “Now that you seem to be putty in my hands, I think you’ll be far more interested in where I’m taking you,” he said, turning down a side hall.
Stopping at a pair of heavy mahogany doors inlaid with swirling opal designs, Aerelius grinned. Pushing them open, he stepped inside and held out his arms.
“You chambers, my lady. I thought if you saw what you were missing, you’d reconsider your current residence.”
Cautiously, Freya stepped inside. It was about the size one might expect of a princess’ chambers—spacious, with carved wood paneling, high ceilings, and carpeting that was a thick, rich wool, the kind one could curl their toes into. A gas-fueled crystal chandelier hung from the white tray ceiling, the flames causing the gems to sparkle. In the center of the room was a massive bed flanked by two built-in bookshelves that were already stuffed full of books. Wood-framed glass doors patterned in gold inlay led through a wall made entirely of windows, perfect for a Valkyrie who cared little for being cooped up inside.
She could easily imagine herself here, taking breakfast on the veranda or in the four-poster bed, possibly curling up in front of the marble fireplace with a book.
With a sigh, she faced him, reluctant to show him how much she’d just fallen in love with the room. It was perfect, and he damn-well knew it.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” she said, hating how easily the room had made her want to cave. “If it will get you and your father off my case, I’ll compromise.” She held up two fingers and wiggled them. “Two nights a week, I’ll stay here.”
Aerelius’ answering smile was nothing short of dazzling. “Two nights sounds divine, my lady.” He quirked his eyebrows suggestively and inclined his head toward a door off to the side that blended almost seamlessly into the paneling. “And in case you have any bad dreams, my chambers are just through there.”
“In case you have any bad dreams, you mean,” Freya said with a laugh.
“Whatever makes you sleep at night, Freya. Now, I thought we’d head down to the kitchens, rustle some dinner from the cooks.” He strode across the room to the fireplace, then, grinning, he ran his finger on the underside of the rosewood mantel.
“Ah, there it is,” he murmured. There was a soft click, then the bookshelf beside the fireplace moved, opening into the room just a few inches, revealing a darkened space beyond.
Freya’s eyes widened. “I have my own secret passage?” With a quick skip of excitement, she hurried over and tugged on the shelving, surprised to find the door opened without a sound. Curious, she examined the hinges that were sunken into the wall. She ran her fingers over the cool metal, then nodded when she felt the unmistakable prick of silencing magic. “Where does it lead?”
“It leads straight to a linen closet two halls over from the servants’ quarters on the lower floor.”
“No wonder we never found it,” she said. “I barely remember this room.”
“In a palace with nearly three hundred rooms, that’s unsurprising.” He held out his hand, smiling when she took it. “So, does this count as wooing, Valkyrie?”
Laughing, she pulled him into the passage and set a ball of light hovering in the air beside her. “Only you would think pulling a girl into a dark and dusty hidden passage would constitute wooing.”
His hand tightened in hers. “Well? Does it?”
“Of course it does. Keep on like this and you’ll have me in a puddle at your feet in no time.”
Chuckling, he pulled the door shut behind them. “So, how are wedding plans actually coming along?”
Freya dragged her fingers along the dusty stone walls as they walked slowly down the passage. “Well enough. We’ve chosen a theme, so now it will be up to the planners to get it right.”
“I’m eager to see how things turn out,” he said, sounding sincere. “Although I wouldn’t mind a bit of consultation along the way.”
Freya shrugged. “A deal’s a deal, highness. You lost, fair and square.”
“Is this how the rest of our lives will be? Making bets to determine major decisions?”
She elbowed him. “Only if you’re silly enough to think you’ll ever win,” she quipped. “Otherwise, no. Major decisions will certainly be a joint effort. Sixty-forty, at least.”
Amused, he smiled down at her. “And let me guess. You’ll be the one who gets sixty percent of the say, correct?”
“Or perhaps seventy. That’s to be determined.”
“Based on…?”
“Th
e type of decision, of course,” she said playfully. “We’re expected to have children, so when it comes to naming our future offspring, for example, I may be willing to bend a bit.”
Draping an arm around her shoulder, Aerelius laughed and kissed her hair. “Do you know how much I adore hearing you speak of our future children so causally?”
“It’s an eventuality I came to terms with long ago.” Pausing, she turned to face him. In the soft light, the golden highlights in his black-brown hair shimmered and the depth of his dark eyes seemed endless. “Taunting aside, I want you to know that I truly am alright with our… arrangement. If I’m to be paired with someone against my will, I couldn’t ask for more than for that person to be one of my oldest friends.”
“An arrangement you were forced into against your will, hmm?” Bringing her hand to his lips, he laid a soft kiss on her knuckles. “You’ve grown into quite the wordsmith.”
She smacked his chest. “I’m being serious!”
“Oh, I know,” he said with a laugh. “That’s the best part.”
“You know what?” She let her hands fall from his. “I take it back. I’m going to ask Byrric to rescind the agreement.”
Linking his arms around her waist, he began to walk her backward down the hallway, his face tilted toward hers. “Good luck with that. The agreement was signed in blood.”
“Not my blood. Nor yours. That was all our parents’ doing.” Turning, she continued ahead, allowing him to keep his arms around her waist as they walked.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, Aerelius pointing out a few narrower passages that broke off from the one they were in, explaining the different areas of the palace grounds they led to. She was surprised to find that the tunnel system was far more extensive than she’d thought, based on their earlier explorations. After a few minutes, they came to a stop in front of a wooden door. Freya put her hand to the door and closed her eyes.
“It’s spelled, too,” she whispered. “Soundproofing and anti-rot.”
“That would make sense,” Aer said with a nod. “This palace is five thousand years old. A wooden door wouldn’t last that long in such good condition.”
“No,” Freya murmured, frowning. “But neither would a spell. Magic needs to be refueled every few centuries if a spell is to be truly ever-lasting.”
“So this door is either a newer addition or we’re not the only ones who frequent these tunnels,” Aer finished. “Well, my mother is a witch blessed with earth magic. She’s the one who told us of the passage system, so it wouldn’t be terribly surprising if she’s also the one refueling the spells within it.”
“Perhaps,” Freya agreed.
As one, they pressed their ears to the door, listening for anyone on the other side. After a few moments, Aerelius hooked his finger around the stone latch and pulled, slowly opening the door as silently as possible. Freya let her light wink out, then followed him through. When he pulled it shut, she saw that a stone facade had been mortared onto the wood, allowing it to blend seamlessly with the walls on either side. “Impressive,” Freya whispered, running a hand across the rough surface. “Not a seam in sight.”
The closet they were in was small, with shelving on one wall from floor to ceiling, all empty and covered in a fine layer of dust.
“It seems to be the quickest way to get from our wing to the kitchens,” Aerelius replied. “In case you’re ever in the mood for a late-night snack.”
She gave him a wry smile. “Aren’t I always?”
Taking her hand, he opened the outer door, sticking his head out and looking in either direction before exiting. He led her down a hall and past the main pantry before turning and taking her down a shorter, darker hall, then another, then a third. It was a dizzying maze, and had it not been for her strong sense of direction, she’d almost certainly get lost if she had to find her own way back.
When they came to the door at the end of the hall, he glanced back in the direction they came before pulling the latch and stepping inside.
“This is it?” Freya whispered, reigniting her light and looking around the small, dusty room. Free-standing shelves formed three rows in the room, each bearing empty wooden crates that may have once held root vegetables, but all they held now was a fine layer of dust.
For whatever reason, this room had been deserted.
“There’s nothing here,” Freya said, frowning as she turned in a slow circle. “Have you checked all the crates for a key?”
Aer nodded. “There wasn’t one.”
“So they either took it with them or someone in the castle has it, although a human with a key to the palace seems more than a bit far-fetched.”
“Exactly,” Aer said. He gestured toward the rear wall. “The keyhole we found is over there, barely visible, but I would assume someone locked the door from in here when the human left.”
Freya bit her lip and frowned. “Did you—”
“I checked the hallways for passages we hadn’t yet found,” he told her, anticipating her question. “Unless I missed something, the closest one was the closet we came through, which has no less than a dozen branches. My assumption is this was just a stopping point, a way to get in from the gardens without being seen. It’s a simple enough trek from the gardens to the forest from there.”
Walking toward the hidden door, Freya touched a finger to the keyhole that was almost completely obscured by a small ridge in the stone. Glancing around the room, she frowned. “And your parents have said nothing about human visitors from Dystone?”
“None. I’ve attempted to bring human relations up with them both, mainly regarding their monarchs’ attendance at our wedding, but nothing seemed amiss.”
She bit her lip and stared down at the small hole in the wall. “It’s strange, don’t you think? If the human was here to visit one of your parents, as future king, you’d think they might tell you about it.”
“You would think. I plan to keep looking, but unless he or she returns, I don’t know that I’ll find much else.”
Annoyed, Freya sighed. It wasn’t only the fact that a human was sneaking through the palace was odd, but more so that the king and queen, assuming they knew, hadn’t mentioned a thing to Aerelius. Relations with Dystone had always been favorable, considering the Linds had been the reason for the liberation of their people, so a visit from one wasn’t unheard of or even unexpected.
On the same token, Freya supposed there was a good deal about being a monarch she and Aerelius had yet to learn, including why visitors from foreign lands would be secreted in and out of the palace.
“You’re going to drive yourself crazy if you keep playing what-if,” Aer whispered. He held out his hand for hers. “We’ll see what else we can find, but for now, let’s eat.”
They made their way in the other direction toward the main kitchen, walking more slowly this time so Freya could do her own examination of the walls along the way. When they got to the kitchen, they found Maghda, the rotund female who commanded the kitchens like a captain did a ship, preparing dinner for the rest of the palace. Her assistants, all significantly younger and a good deal more sprightly, scurried about.
“Your Highness!” Maghda said, smiling when she saw the prince. “I heard you might be paying us a visit. And look at you, Lady Balthana! All grown up!”
Freya grinned and accepted the female’s warm embrace. “Maghda, it’s lovely to see you again.”
Maghda gave her a warm smile, then gestured toward the long harvest table that ran the length of the room and where two servants sat at one end shucking corn.
“Sit, I’ll fix you both something to eat.” When they did, she picked up a second sack of corn and dropped it on the table in front of them, her eyes twinkling. “And while you’re here, feel free to lend a hand.”
The prince tsked and shook his head. “Maghda, if I were any other prince…”
“Ah, but you’re not, and you know I don’t tolerate idle hands in my kitchen.” She moved toward a l
arge pot that was bubbling softly on the stove. Glancing over her shoulder, she waved a hand toward the produce. “Go on.”
“Would you order my father to shuck corn if he ventured down?” Aer asked.
Maghda barked out a laugh. “Your father knows better than to make his way down here, princeling.”
Amused, Freya stood and pulled a basket off the wall, then sat down, arching a brow when Aerelius narrowed his eyes.
“You know, Valkyrie, it’s bad form to let the staff order their future monarch around,” he said, picking up an ear of corn. “Feel free to demand the most complex meals you can come up with for our wedding.”
Freya tossed the stump from the end of her corn at him, leaving several strands of silk on his blue tunic. “You might want to be a bit more appreciative of the people who prepare your food, Highness, or you may end up poisoned.”
He pointed at her with an ear of corn. “You’ve been spending too much time around Florian.”
“Oh, don’t mind him,” Maghda said, stirring her stew. “He’s down here twice a week peeling potatoes or coring apples. One time I even got him to truss a turkey.”
Freya gave him a wide-eyed look of surprise. “Impressive. Even I can’t do that.”
He gave her a quick wink and reached for another ear. “If you’re lucky, maybe one day I’ll teach you.”
“I’ll teach her, you mean,” Maghda shot back.
“Why in the world did you need to truss a turkey?” Freya asked, still a bit surprised.
“I’d gone hunting with my father,” Aerelius explained. “I was about twelve or so? I’d always done well with hunting other fowl and larger animals, but this was my first wild turkey.” He shrugged and tossed the cleaned ear of corn into the basket. “I knew how to dress a deer, but nothing of trussing a bird, so mother insisted I bring it down here so Maghda could teach me.”
“Begged me to do it for him, too,” Maghda said, then clicked her tongue. “‘What will I ever need to do this for?’ he’d asked. But I told him, you want to come into my space, you live by my rules.” She pointed a spoon at Freya. “That means learning yourself a thing or two.”
