by D. R. Perry
There were four sets of double doors, with mirrors lining the walls between them. It felt like being in a glass house. I wondered who or what this room had been designed for, then shrugged. It didn’t matter. I was used to being trapped in a place I didn't want to be, although not when so much was at stake beyond my boredom.
I decided to check out the amenities. One set of doors led to the most luxurious bathroom I’d ever seen. The shelves held plush towels, the cabinets all the lotions and potions a girl could want. I ran a bath, knowing the time it’d take to fill that huge Roman-style tub gave me a chance to check out the rest of the room.
A walk-in closet the size of a regular person’s bedroom held neat rows of clothing for every occasion. All of it was feminine, not all of it in the colors I favored, but enough to make me wonder what in the name of Lady Luck could be going on here. Everything was my size, even the shoes. I leaned over, sniffing a dress. It smelled new with still a trace of the plastic it must have been wrapped in during shipping. I ran to a dresser, relieved to find only stretchy bras and underwear. No one had measured me in my sleep or snooped through my closets to suss out what size I wore. Whoever had estimated my dress size had to have a tailor’s eye, though. Or an appraiser’s. Someone was creepy in the estate of Harcourt, and my gut told me it wasn't Blaine.
I went to one nightstand. It had a locking drawer, with the key still in it. Someone wanted to give me the illusion of privacy, then. The glass on the walls made me wonder, though. Before stowing anything, I went to one mirror and pressed a finger to the surface. I knew the test wasn’t the be-all and end-all, but it’d work as step one. The mirrors were set into the walls, stretching half the height to the cavernous ceilings the entire Harcourt mansion had. Even though there was a visible gap between my finger and its reflection, it could still be transparent.
With my hands cupped, I leaned against the glass. Trying to peer into any room that might be behind it would give anyone watching a rude surprise, but I couldn’t see anything. Knocking made a thud near my ear, but a hollow reverberation higher up. I had a theory. I rapped on every single mirror to test them.
Half of them made the hollow sound. I marked each one with a touch of magic in the lower corner. There wasn’t anyone watching right behind the mirrors, but there were probably concealed cameras high up. It’s what I’d do if I were head of a family of paranoid dragons. One thing I didn’t bother with was looking for bugs. I already knew I didn’t talk in my sleep from my time in The Academy dorms, and I could wait to try to communicate with my ally until a bit later.
If I stood just right at the locking nightstand, I could conceal what I did with my purse before locking it up. I twisted and hunched, then peeked into my handbag to make sure my secret weapon was still in there. Once locked, I brought the key to a jewelry box on one dresser. A simple gold chain worked to string it on around my neck. Someone else in the house might have a copy of the key, but this was the best I could do for now. I’d have to rely on my Luck to keep anyone from looking in the drawer and the bag. I went back and touched the drawer again, with Luck magic, this time, hoping it’d be enough.
Back in the bathroom, I tossed a raspberry bath bomb into the water and threw my clothes at a hamper, not caring when they missed. With my hair pinned against my head by a studded gold clip, I sank into the hot water I hoped would ease my body and mind. When I opened my eyes, a slender glass of something that smelled suspiciously like plum wine sat on the tile edging the tub. Someone knew I was over twenty-one, then.
I didn’t dare emerge from the bubble-covered water, so I tried checking the bathroom for magic. I should have done that to begin with, in the bedroom, too. Some Tanuki I was, forgetting an important thing like that. I blamed Blaine Harcourt with his jerky attitude and dreamboat eyes instead of myself.
After a few moments, I realized that a decorative gilt bamboo stand in one corner was actually a hiding place for a Brownie. I’d known Hertha Harcourt and the Sidhe Queen were tight, but not enough to assume it merited pure Faerie servants painting themselves to match the decor. I chalked it up to dragon craziness and decided to be friendly for the moment.
“Um, hi.” I nodded to the stick-like creature in the corner. “How did you know I like plum wine?”
“The same way I knew your dress size.” The brownie swayed a little, creaking slightly. “Your hostess mentioned it.”
“Huh. That’s weird.” I sighed, relaxing back into the bath. I didn’t have to worry about a Brownie ogling me since they had no gender, like the other pure Faeries. But I shouldn’t ask them any more questions. If they served the Harcourt family, I’d just be digging my own grave and owe them by accident. “Well, thanks again.” I picked up the glass, raised it, and sipped.
“I—” The Brownie creaked and crackled, twisting in a nonexistent breeze. “You’re most welcome, Miss Ichiro.”
“None of that ‘Miss’ stuff. Call me Kim.” I winked. “Anyone who brings me wine this good deserves to be on a first-name basis.”
“I understand.” They straightened, a sign that they were at ease. “You consider it advantageous to be friendly with the help.”
“You have some experience with Tanuki guests, then.” I sipped the excellent wine again, letting the fruity and lightly fuzzy taste roll over my tongue a few times. I breathed in to enjoy its bouquet as well. “And anyone serving the Harcourts who gilds themselves goes above and beyond. Kudos! You must be one of the most highly-valued servants here.”
“There’s a mortal saying about making assumptions.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I waved my free hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’m an optimist.”
“Tread carefully, Kim.” Their voice sighed like a breeze through branches. “Your hostess has been waiting for something like this to happen for decades.”
I swallowed more wine because there was no other way to get around the lump forming in my throat. When the bathwater cooled, I got out and dried off. A robe on the inside of the bathroom door covered me until I could slip into a silky nightgown from the dresser.
I took a deep breath, closing my eyes to tighten my focus. When I opened my eyes, I scanned the room for magical listening devices. Then, I checked under furniture and in decorations for the kind garden-variety humans used. It seemed whoever installed the cameras hadn’t worried about listening in. The bed was comfortable and warm, the room quiet and almost peaceful once I turned the lights off.
“Ismail?” I knew my ally could hear me, but he didn’t answer. Why would he? The creature I’d roped into helping me was under one of the oldest kinds of Faerie contracts. I still had him on the hook for one more go, and I bet comforting a despairing Tanuki wasn’t on his list of favorite pastimes. I rolled over, turning my back on the nightstand, and shut my eyes.
The Brownie’s ominous words kept me awake for a while. I’d almost stolen the thing I broke into the hoard to get, but if Hertha Harcourt had plans for me, I might not get one of her Luck charms where it needed to be in time. I flushed with anger and shame, turning my head so my tears fell on the sateen pillowcase instead of all over my face. The Harcourts had plenty of Luck charms in just that one vault. And dragon shifters got to be immortal all on their own, but Tanuki needed those charms to survive. If we used too much Luck without a charm, we aged faster. If we used up the last charm, years we’d borrowed ran out like sands through an hourglass.
I’d had no idea Dad’s lapel pin was his last Luck charm when I nicked it. And then, Josh Dennison lay dying in front of the Temple to Music. With my brother engaged to his sister, the wolf shifter was practically family. If I hadn’t burned the Luck in Dad’s pin, then Josh would be in the ground, dead from a cockatrice scratch.
The only thing I’d ever been good at was sneakiness. That meant Dad’s best chance was me doing a little stealing. I’d broken into the hoard to save my father, even though he’d never ask me to. If he didn’t live to give me away at my wedding or hold his grandchildren, it’d be my fault. I couldn
’t live with the guilt, and I’d thought for one brief shining moment that I wouldn’t have to. But Blaine Harcourt had ruined my entire plan by walking in before I was done and then not telling me how to get out in time. And Hertha Harcourt never gave things away. Trying to negotiate with her would come at a steep price.
As I drifted off, it occurred to me that I wasn’t dealing with the dragon lady. She’d put Blaine in charge of me and my attempted theft. A week earlier, I’d have hoped he’d understand my predicament. But that was before I learned the up close and in person truth about him. Blaine Harcourt was every bit as paranoid and possessive as any other dragon shifter on the planet. He had to be the type of person to expect something precious from me in exchange for what he had in abundance. I was convinced he wouldn’t help me, not even if I could get him somewhere private and tell him everything.
Chapter Three
Blaine
I leaned on the door frame, thinking about knocking again. Just as I’d raised my hand, it opened. The girl glared, still wearing a shimmery nightgown. Her face was just as flawless-looking as it had been last night, although her eyes looked a little red around the rims. She’d been weeping, of course. I felt guilty, realizing she must have cried herself to sleep. But she’d broken in here, then clocked me one on the noggin. Why should I feel bad for her just because she was beautiful? That seemed like something my roommate Bobby would do, the Boy Scout. Had sharing a room with him made me soft, or just soft in the head?
I stuck my hand out, stopping the door as she tried to swing it shut. She rolled her eyes before I could do it myself. I stopped the trajectory of my eyeballs, not wanting her to think I’d copied her.
“What do you want?” Her scowl made her lips all pouty. I blinked, looking away from them. To think, I’d almost kissed her before she brained me. Stupid dragon hormones, always getting me in trouble.
“Uh, to ask if you want breakfast?” I tried smiling, but with the door crunching my fingers, it probably looked more like I had gas.
“No.” Her stomach growled louder than a wolf shifter chasing a Gnome. She sighed. “Yes. I don’t know. Shouldn’t the Brownie just bring it, so I don’t inconvenience you?”
“You’ve got a lot to learn about dragon hospitality.” This time, I did roll my eyes. “And what Brownie?”
She stood there, chewing her lower lip, then she opened the door, inclining her head and waving with one hand to indicate I could come in. I stepped across the threshold but waited until she moved halfway across the room before shutting the door behind me and heading in. I didn’t want her to brain me again.
Even though it’d take a high-ranking Faerie courtier to remove the bracelets, I was worried she might do something drastic like dislocating my thumb to try to take them off. I knew nothing about the Ichiro girl except that she had a habit of breaking out of secure boarding schools and into my mom’s hoard. And that she drove me nuttier than a fruitcake.
“I’ll be out in a minute. She grabbed her handbag from the nightstand, then something from the top drawer of the dresser and headed into the closet. The light went on when she shut the door, just like it did in all the closets at this mansion. I wondered exactly what kind of paranoia motivated Mother to make that addition.
I waited, listening to the clack of wooden hangers and rustle of fabric as she dressed. Instead of asking her about the Brownie again, I checked. This guest room was a mirror image of mine, so it was easy to find the likely places. Nothing. I headed for the bathroom even though that wasn’t a great hiding place for water-phobic creatures like Brownies. Turning on the light nearly dazzled my eyes. The bedroom mirrors were shiny, but the shimmery decor in this bathroom was even more over the top. Nothing but towels, bath stuff, and that lame gilded pot of desiccated bamboo Mother insisted on having all over the house.
As I turned to go back into the bedroom, something creaked. Though the floors were covered with cushy mats, they were marble underneath. Besides, the sound came from the corner, not under my feet. Could the bamboo hide a Brownie? They looked like sticks, but it would have to be covered in gold paint to escape notice here.
“Ahem.” The girl tugged my sleeve.
I turned in the doorway again, forgetting all about the Brownie. She’d just put on a simple sundress, but it made her look like a goddess. I wondered how a dress like that had ended up in her closet. It definitely wasn’t one of Mother’s last season items. Mother never wore pastels or floral prints.
“Um, okay.” I turned my back on her, striding as fast as I could toward the door. “Breakfast. Follow me.”
She did, a pair of gold ballet flats making muffled taps against the hall floors. She kept pace with me, something most of the girls back on campus had trouble with. I wondered how she managed, considering she couldn’t be much more than five feet tall. I felt like the world’s biggest idiot for not knowing her first name. Pride was one of my worst habits but swallowing it hadn’t been something I was willing to do without the threat of an emergency or a bigger dragon. So why did I want to gulp down the whole lump for this thieving Tanuki?
“Look, I’m sorry about last night.” I didn’t even glance at her. I was so nervous. “How I said I didn’t care what your name was and all that. I’m a class-A jerk even according to my friends, but Mother’s crazy-intimidating. We’re stuck together for at least the rest of the week, so, let’s call a truce. How about it?”
“A truce has terms, Harcourt.” I glanced sideways at a sudden movement only to find her braiding a strand of that glossy tawny-tipped hair of hers. Braiding and walking at the same time? Dexterity hadn’t been her dump stat.
“Okay. So, what will it take to get your agreement?”
“I know you won’t take these bracelets off and let me go. How about something fun? This is a billionaire’s mansion. There’s got to be loads of things to do in here, and I need something to take my mind off my problems.”
“I think maybe you should be thinking about your problems, though.” Where in Tiamat’s name was all this eggshell-walking coming from? She was a girl with Luck magic who turned into a little furry creature. I was the son of a billionaire who turned into a fire-breathing dragon. And she’d broken in here. I should be all Rhett Butler, not giving a damn. But how could I deliver zingers and sick burns if I didn’t even know her name? And why didn’t I want to?
“You just assume I’m not thinking about them all the time already?” She sniffed.
I turned my head to look at her, noticing the liquid sheen in her eyes complete with moisture at the corners. It felt like someone had just dropped an anvil in my belly. She kept on walking alongside me, her eyes on the marble her feet had yet to cross. The section of lower lip that wasn’t in her teeth trembled lightly. I couldn’t look away, not from someone so beautiful and so miserable at the same time. Big stupid mistake.
I fell on my tail, a side-effect of walking right into one of the pedestal tables Mother insisted on putting at every hallway intersection. The glass urn full of red apples tilted toward me, so I flung my arms up to shield my face from the inevitable rain of ruined fruit and glass shards. Maximum dexterity Tanuki girl caught it, righted it, then took an apple to polish on her sleeve. If I hadn’t been a shifter, I wouldn’t have been able to track her movements. I’d have thought the urn hadn’t fallen, and she just picked up an apple while I wasn’t watching.
I looked up, blinking. She stretched a hand down to me, the mist of tears gone from her eyes and a small smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. Something was off about her. I’d seen a mask slip but wasn’t sure which emotion was genuine, the sadness or the mockery.
I put my hand in hers, letting her try to pull me to my feet on her own. She tugged and strained, huffing out an upward breath that blew her bangs off her forehead. A small star-shaped scar hid under there, gone from view before I could be sure it was more than a trick of the light or my imagination. The mark was tantalizingly familiar, and my first impulse was to brush aside her hair to
get a better look. I didn’t. Instead, I got my feet under me and finally stood up. When she let go of my hand, I felt a warm tingle where it had been.
“Thanks.” I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “Look, this is going to go better if—”
“Kimiko.” She scrutinized the shiny red fruit. “You know these are poisonous, right?”
“Yeah, like my mother.” I shrugged. “Well, technically, she’s venomous, and her breath is poisonous.”
“Oh?” She placed the apple gently atop the others in the glass urn. “Really? How did you end up—”
“My bio-dad was a Fire dragon.” I beckoned, then headed around the stupid table and its container of quietly deadly apples. “Mr. Harcourt isn’t this baby’s daddy. This kid is not his son.”
“Weird.” She glanced at me, then paid more attention to where she was going. Good on her. “I thought she married him back in the 80s.”
“She did. I took decades to hatch.”
“Wait.” She held the hand she’d helped me up with in front of her, palm facing in. “You don’t feel like a reptile.”
“Neither do platypi.”
“Platypuses.”
“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes. I usually only tolerated grammar corrections from Lynn for Bobby’s sake. “Anyway, we’re more like those than reptiles.”
“If you were a character in a novel, you’d be the chosen one.” Kimiko chuckled. It was low and throaty, not squeaky like I’d imagined.
“Good thing I’m not, then.” I turned left down a narrower hallway. The aroma of cinnamon waffles wafted along toward us.
The kitchen was spacious and spotless, as usual. Kimiko stopped by the door, looking around at all the empty space. I had no idea what kind of kitchen she was used to, but this clearly wasn’t it. Hoping she'd follow, I moseyed over to the counter where Gomer stood finishing spiced pears to go with the waffles. I leaned on the marble at enough of a distance to let him work and waited.
