Of Royal Blood: Part One (Courting Magik Series Book 1)

by Michele Barrow-Belisle

  The woman was ruthless. Most who crossed her were never seen again to tell their side of things. Some, like my sister, were simply banished from court. But once the Crown labels you an enemy of the state, your documents are revoked, your reputation torn apart, and your life shattered. They controlled us. Each one of us. I was the one who listened to Tina cry herself to sleep every night. Heard the nasty whispers that followed her everywhere she went in town. Watch her slowly slip deeper into self-destructive behaviors. Queen Zara was terrifying, and you did not want to cross her.

  Hannah’s car pulled up in front of the donut shoppe and I climbed out. With my notebooks packed, I shouldered my bag, throwing her a wary look. “I get that he's the king, Hannah, but it’s because he's the king I had to say no. I mean, seriously, how many ways could I have screwed this up by refusing him?”

  Twenty ways from Tuesday most likely, since you’ve already screwed things up with the prince. I don’t remember exactly where I was going with that thought, because somehow those two words…screw and prince...were inappropriately mingled in my mind for a minute.

  “You, my friend, have a messed-up sense of self-preservation, and you seriously need to reexamine your priorities.” She said it gently, kindly, but it still washed over me like acid.

  I cleared my throat. “Doesn't matter now,” I called back to her, as I headed for the back door. “What's done is done.”

  It was only after I stepped inside the donut trailer, that I realized that what’s done was actually nowhere near done.

  My mother came at me, brandishing a pastry tube in one hand and a rolling pin in the other. The look on her face said she’d heard about the incident.

  Wow. There really were no secrets that stayed within the confines of the castle walls. Tina once said they were made of paper. Seems she was right.

  I tried to distract her, while I stowed my book bag, rambling on with idle chatter about my interview, and how quickly the hours had flown by. Then before she could get a word in, I slipped into the restroom and shut the door.

  There was a knock and then the door opened without waiting for a reply.

  Damn those rusty locks.

  She’d lost the pastry bag but traded it for a butcher knife. “I heard about today, young lady.”

  “Of course you did,” I muttered, then gestured to the toilet. “Can I pee in solitude please?”

  “You will return to your King. You will tell him you agree to his request. And you will grovel for forgiveness,” she snapped, waving the knife alarmingly close to my nose. She was harmless, nothing like the psycho murderess she resembled at the moment, but with her poor vision, I took a step back, just in case.

  “Blame your low blood sugar, stress, temporary insanity—I don’t give a damn what you tell him, as long as you make this right.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but she held up her hand.

  “Go.”

  So much for done being done. Why were mothers so eager for their daughters to fall into bed with a married man? A married man who had a harem of women? I could have stood my ground. Argued and presented my case on why I was the worst possible person for this assignment. But what was the use. The only person on the indigenous mainland more stubborn than me, was my mother. And perhaps my father. He would have taken my side…but he was gone. The broken piece of me that would never stop missing him began to ache.

  “Fine. I’ll apologize,” I said through clenched teeth. “But understand this, I am not going to be his mistress.”

  I stormed past her and tried to stifle my nerves while stuffing down my resentment. Because neither of those emotions made for a decent apology.

  I rounded the corner and slammed into a wall. A nice smelling warm wall with strong arms, fine clothes, blue eyes, and dark tousled hair...

  Oh, god. Could this day get any better? What the hell was he doing here again.

  “Kat.”

  “Prince Ethan.”

  His dimples flashed. “We’ve been over this. It’s just Ethan.”

  “It’ll be just Ethan when I grow tired of my head being attached to my body…Your Highness.” I said it with a quick nod since my mother’s eyes were on us.

  She hurried toward him, clasping his hands in hers she kissed his knuckles. “Your Majesty.”

  His smile was awkward, uncomfortable, as he retracted his hands. “Mrs. Stark, you needn’t be so formal. We’re so well acquainted now we’re practically family. You can call me Ethan, too.” He winked, and her round face flushed with color.

  I tried not to roll my eyes, but it was too hard.

  “Can I get you the same order as last time?” she offered.

  “Thank you. But only if you allow me to purchase them at full price this time.” His gaze slid to me. “On the house, is a deal-breaker.”

  Mum laughed. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  Ethan smiled, victorious. I doubted he’d ever lost at anything in his entire life.

  “Extra chocolate if you wouldn't mind. We’ve had an odd day. All the pipes in the ladies’ privy exploded, and the door came off its hinges. Never seen anything like it.”

  My insides squirmed. I ducked my head, letting a curtain of hair fall over my face as I scrubbed a table that clearly had already been scrubbed. The events of this morning replayed in my mind. Every way I rearranged them led me to the very same conclusion…that it hadn’t been coincidental and that I’d somehow been at fault.

  I glanced over to watch Mum bustle about, boxing chocolate glazed and- double chocolate ganache-filled donuts, for the prince. I couldn't quite understand it, really. I mean, when you have the finest French pastries and Italian sweetbreads prepared by masterful Pâtissiers, why would you even consider greasy fried dough?

  “Those look perfect. You spoil me, Mrs. Stark, thank you.”

  She laughed like a schoolgirl. “If I’m to call you Ethan, then you must call me Sophia.” With a sharp nudge to my ribs, she brushed past me, gesturing for me to go over to him.

  Another eye roll. I circled around him, leaving a wide berth between us, as I went behind the counter to grab my apron. It was safer that way. Part of me resented having to put in time here at all anymore. It would be another week before the queen decided whether I’d be hired on full time or not…I was still fairly certain it was not, but I held on to the sliver of hope. Until then, it was theater set designer by day, fry cook by night, and intermittent babysitter in between.

  I pretended to be fully absorbed in cleaning the counters and did my very best to seem too busy to acknowledge his presence. As if his presence could be ignored. It literally filled the space.

  “So, Kat…”

  I stiffened at the sound of my name on his lips. Or rather, the way hearing it made me feel. Like I was flushed, and likely blushing as hard as my mother had.

  “I hear you're going to be accompanying me to the island next week.”

  The cleaning stopped, and my rag dropped to the floor. I jerked my hand back and knocked it into a tall carafe of hot coffee. It toppled sideways, releasing a wave of scalding liquid directly at the prince. No! I sucked in a horrified breath.

  But then something else happened. Something I couldn’t explain. The ring warmed again, just like it had in the palace, and there was the same flash of white light. I blinked, temporarily blinded, but then my eyes widened as the contents of the coffee cup reversed in slow motion, spilling back into the carafe as it righted. All. On. Its. Own.

  I hadn’t touched it.

  No one had touched it.

  It was as if an invisible hand had reached out, catching it mid-spill.

  My stomach turned cartwheels. Shaken and wide-eyed, I glanced up at Ethan. He looked completely normal. So, either he didn’t see what I’d seen, or I hadn’t seen what I’d seen, because what I’d seen wasn’t real.

  “Kat?” He leaned in, peering into my face. “You with me? Did you hear my question?”

  I shook my head, desperate to clear the fog, but unable t
o. Objects didn’t just animate all on their own. Not without…magik. I bit down on my lip and tried to look natural. My fingers fluttered to my other hand, where the heat from my grandmother’s ring had subsided. A question. He’d asked me a question. What was it? Something about accompanying him somewhere? I stared at him and frowned.

  He cocked his head. “Did they not tell you about it? I’m guessing by that expression they haven’t.”

  Numbly I shook my head, my gaze wandered back to the coffee.

  “There are plans to revive the old amusement park, Tenebris,” he explained.

  When I still looked puzzled, he added, “Shadowland?”

  “The abandoned amusement park,” I said, finally zoning back in. “I had no idea they were planning to revive it.” My parents used to park their donut wagon there in the early days. It was a ghost town now, shut down by the Monarchy before I was born, and had been vacant ever since.

  “I’ll be touring, scouting to see which attractions we should restore, and which ones we should replace. They want to keep as much of the original structures as possible. History and all.” He smiled.

  “Okay,” I drew out the word, “but, why are they sending you?” What I meant to ask was, why are they sending me with you, but one puzzle at a time.

  “In a word, publicity. The queen’s publicist thinks it would be a great idea for grabbing attention.”

  At first, I found it a bit strange, that he’d referred to his mother as The Queen, with such distance and formality, but then nothing about that woman struck me as motherly. She seemed the type who would expect even her children to bow before her. And pimping her son out for publicity stunts, also not surprising. “Of course. ‘Prince saves local amusement park.’” I brandished my hand as if writing the headline in the sky.

  His laugh wasn’t quite genuine. “I agreed to do it, if the money collected went to the new Children’s Ward in the burn unit at Victoria Hospital.”

  “Really?” My brows arched. He’d hit a cause close to my heart, having spent so much time there myself. The scar on my arm started to itch. “And you meant it?”

  “Still don’t think much of me, do you, Kitkat?”

  “Don’t call me that.” I all but hissed.

  Another laugh, but this one reached his eyes. “Well, you’ll get to see it for yourself when we tour.”

  “When we tour…” I had applied to be a tutor. Not a bodyguard, and most definitely not a babysitter. But the sexy-as-sin face leering down at me with that crooked smirk, the one that made girls forget their names, well, it had other ideas.

  “You’re coming,” he said. It wasn’t a question or an offer or even an invitation. It was a statement. And a statement from your Prince was as good as an order.

  I’d never taken orders well.

  “What? I—No…I don't think that’s, I mean, I can’t...” Seriously, Kat, finish a sentence already.

  Ethan laughed, full-bodied and genuine. “Yeah. Resistance is futile, believe me love, I tried.”

  “Wait, you tried? Why would you try? That’s a dumb question. Of course you'd try. You're a grown-ass man—why would you need a babysitter?”

  I turned away and picked up the rag that I was certain I’d left on the floor but was now resting neatly on the counter. Pushing away the weirdness still making my stomach queasy, I wiped in mindless circles, recleaning the spot I’d already cleaned twice.

  “Babysitter.” Ethan’s head was nodding in agreement. “Fairly sure that’s the word Father used. You sure he didn’t mention it to you when you spoke?” His eyes danced over me.

  Yeah, that wasn’t the offer his father made. Or was it? Oh, god, had I misread the whole thing? No. No way. His intentions had been clear. As had my response. So clear, in fact, I’d blown the hinges off the bloody washroom door. I had done that. Me. Admitting it is the first step to accepting it, Kat.

  My mother had slowed down her donut order fulfillment enough to eagerly devour every word of our conversation. And in turn, I could hear her internal thoughts, which went something like… If you turn down two royals in one day, you might as well pack your bags.

  I blinked. Still not sure if what I was sensing was real or imagined. But the possibility that my mother was willing to throw me out, didn’t come as much of a surprise. We’d been at odds ever since the fire. I’d always sensed her animosity toward me, but that was when she stopped trying to hide it…when Dad died. Not that I was against the idea, either—except without me in that house, poor little Lincoln wouldn’t have anyone halfway sane in his life.

  Focused on Ethan, I asked, “The king actually said that?” I needed clarification, because it was really hard to think clearly with him here. Which raised another point. Maybe it was him. Everything weird or remotely magikal seemed to only happen in connection to Ethan.

  “No. The king said it would be good for the Royal name for you to tag along while the project is in the works, to soften my playboy image. Make it appear that I’m hard working and conscientious. Because, well, I guess you look the part.” He gave a crooked grin. “But we both know why they want you there…”

  I was on the edge of my virtual seat, still completely in the dark.

  “To keep me from doing anything stupid. And because the suggestion ticked off my mother.” He scanned my face and misread what he saw. “Don’t take it the wrong way, Kat, it’s not personal. You just really can't trust royals, trust me.” He winked. “Always a hidden agenda.”

  Tell me something I didn’t already know. If only I can figure out yours. “But, I’m a teacher.” Absently, I picked up the possessed coffee pot, poured some into a mug, and took a sip. It didn’t taste magikal. Or haunted.

  “They want you to take both jobs. Of course, the position of Princess Charlotte’s tutor is yours, if you want it.”

  I heard my mother stifle a small squeak.

  “But it’s contingent on you accepting this assignment, too.” He shrugged casually, like he hadn’t just entered my personal hell and detonated the whole place.

  My mother didn’t bother waiting for me to mess up before she fixed it.

  “Naturally, she’ll accept both assignments, Your Grace. She’s happy to do it, aren’t you, Katriana.” Her daggered glare pointed at me.

  Again, it wasn’t a question.

  Suddenly I felt trapped, hot, and unable to breathe. I loosened the buttons on my sweater. I had the thought of opening the door to let some air in. As if by my command, the door opened. That wasn’t the strangest part this time…it was that I knew it would.

  My jaw dropped. I nearly swallowed my tongue. To cover my discomfort, I gave a stilted nod of agreement, before I went back to scrubbing the counter.

  Okay. What the hell is happening here? Just a short while ago, my only plans were eating some granola and contemplating closing up early. Suddenly, I'm in the middle of some weird game of magikal chicken or tug-of-war or truth-or-dare, or maybe even human Jenga...not sure...but I certainly wasn't free to contemplate what I’d be doing for the remainder of my week.

  My foreseeable future had been planned out for me. And it included keeping the most reckless, impulsive, and hedonistic man on the island out of trouble. If Ethan was the only thing I had to worry about, I might not be as panicked. But there was more at stake here.

  The doors, the pipes, the ring, the dreams…they could all have been a string of coincidences. Unrelated and random. But something in my gut quietly insisted it was so much more. I’d heard the stories, that it started this way for some. Magik. Small, chance occurrences, seemingly benign, that grew stronger and more potent, until their powers were fully unleashed and eclipsed and subsequently ended their lives.

  There was no question. Dad used to say, when the possible had been ruled out, all that remained was the impossible. And, as impossible as it was…I had magik. Magik, I could not control. And I was about to move in with the very people charged with sending people with magik—to their death.

  CHAPTER 7
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  Morning came and I felt as restless and worried as I’d had for the rest of my I peered at the bleary and bloodshot eyes gawking back at me in the mirror. With my bed-tangled hair and pallid skin, I looked like the walking dead. Fitting.

  I’d spent most of the last evening packing, and the remainder of the night staring up at the ceiling. Justina had spent the night out, again, and Lincoln was curled up sound asleep next to me.

  Exhaustion had settled deep into my bones after the whirlwind of the past few days. But sleep wasn’t happening. In fact, I wondered if it ever would again. My entire life was about to change, for the better, I hoped, but change, any change, was still…hard. And with these awakening powers, it was impossible to tell what my fate might be. All I knew was, I had to figure out what was happening to me, and how to stop it, if that was even possible.

  I’d stopped in at the donut shoppe on my way to the palace. On my way to the palace. I was never going to get used to that. But the tutoring position was live-in through the week, with the option of going home on the weekends. They could manage things more effectively that way, we were told. By ‘things’ they meant us…the staff.

  I fiddled with the cracked handle of my coffee cup, still unable to drink a drop of it.

  “So, first day.” Jeremy leaned his elbows against the counter, his wide eyes bright. “You nervous?”

  I’d run to the bathroom three times already, certain I was going to vomit. So yeah, nervous didn't even cut it. But I shook my head. “Nope. All good,” I said.

  He smiled. “Liar.”

  Jeremy was literally the boy next door and he looked the part. We’d been friends forever. His sheer unwillingness to take a hint was admirable, when it wasn't annoying. His ability to be both at once, while still being lovable, was one of his very best qualities. Oh, there were lots of others…like his easy, chipped-tooth grin, his awkward geekiness, and his uncanny ability to win every round of Monopoly we’d ever played. He learned long ago if you’re gonna play, play to win. I can’t imagine how far he’d be now if he’d decided to play a bigger game. But his heart belonged to my parents’ company… while mine, belonged anywhere but.