by Terry Spear
“If his seeing Cassie means I could lose you…” He didn’t say anything more as if it was too difficult to speak of the possibility, and he appeared deadly serious.
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
“Then what, Alicia? What had you intended to do? Exactly.” He was angry now. Angry at her and angry at Micala. She didn’t think he was upset with Cassie. She was the innocent pawn in the whole blasted mess.
Alicia looked away from Deveron’s searching gaze, not having planned to tell him what she had intended to do. It would just be done. She’d lose her best friend forever, saving her from the cruelty of the fae and—
“Alicia?”
“I was going to tell her I was in love with Micala and he was in love with me, but he didn’t know how to break it off with her.” She choked on the lie that would break her friend’s heart. “That’s why he rarely visits her. And that’s why I rarely see her either. Because…because I love him.”
Deveron squeezed her tighter against his chest, his mouth pressed against her forehead and the brigand was smiling! She was dying here, destroying her friendship with her best friend, the ultimate sacrifice, and he was smiling!
She brushed away tears and scowled up at him. “It isn’t funny.” Her voice was dark and dragon roughened and choked with tears.
His smile broadened, and he chuckled. He said her name with such tenderness, shaking his head at the same time, not allowing her to leave his lap when she struggled to. He was so maddening.
“She would never have believed you.”
Alicia stopped wriggling and stared up at him. “She would.” Not sounding sure of herself. She imagined she’d be crying the whole time, trying to make the whole thing sound like the truth, but she knew as soon as she spoke the words to Cassie, she would have broken down and cried her heart out.
“No, she wouldn’t. She would know that you believe that Micala is bad for her. She wouldn’t understand why. But she’d know that your heart was in the right place. That you were trying to stop them from seeing each other. But she wouldn’t believe that you were in love with him.”
“Okay, fine. You’ll have to kill Micala then.” She snuggled against Deveron’s chest, loving the hard warm feel of him, the spicy familiar male scent of him, the comforting beat of his heart, the way his arms were wrapped so snuggly around her as if he never wanted to let go.
He chuckled. “Fine, I’ll tell him tomorrow.”
“You can’t.”
He smiled at her. “We’ll think of something.”
And then he was kissing her, their hearts racing, his mouth on hers, his lips soft, his tongue pressing to deepen the kiss, his hands combing through her hair as though he couldn’t get enough of her. Nor could she of him. Her whole body heated. She knew this was it. That they couldn’t wait any longer. That they wouldn’t wait. She could have died. And she wasn’t letting her grandfather decide this for her any further.
As if Deveron knew just how she felt, he transported her to his bedchamber. The wicked fae.
And she smiled just as wickedly back.
“Are you all right?” he asked, rubbing her arm, his eyes dark and intrigued, her skin prickling slightly with the transport.
“Yes,” she said. “We didn’t go that far.” She knew from the dark look in his eyes that he didn’t want to wait to be married to her. But he was waiting to sense if she was ready for this.
She cupped his face and kissed his mouth, letting him know it was time.
***
Ena expected King Tibero would not be completely satisfied with the news that she had brought only one of the four fae seers to his court who had taken Princess Alicia hostage. He made allowances that she’d killed the one, but he wasn’t happy about the other two who were in Queen Irenis’s dungeon. As to Princess Alicia, the king was definitely vexed that his granddaughter continued to disobey his rules and was seeing Prince Deveron instead of returning home at once. His face purple with barely controlled rage, he said, “Kill the human.”
“The princess—”
That earned the king’s glower.
Ena continued, “The princess thought he might be one of us.”
“He intended to kill my granddaughter!”
“Yes, but she said he might be like she had been, a fae living among humans, not knowing of her true place here.”
That made the king turn to look at the fae seer again. Not that if he was of the fae that would guarantee he’d live. Brett had killed fae already. Ena thought that the mention that Alicia had once believed she was only a fae seer made the king realize he could have passed the same judgment on his own granddaughter, if he hadn’t known it was her, and she’d killed the fae who had come after her for being a fae seer.
He ground his teeth and looked up at Ena. She knew the teen’s fate was in the king’s hands, but something about Brett made her want to…well not exactly champion his cause…
Or, maybe so. Ena had appreciated the unique approach Alicia had as she saw the world from both a human and fae perspective. That the teen looked to Alicia as his champion. And for some unknown and totally disconcerting way, Ena wished the human had seen her in that same way. Not as his captor and possibly his executioner, but as his salvation, his champion.
“You said I could have anything I wished if I saved the princess’s life.”
“She is not here…with me,” the king growled.
“Yes, but she is safe.”
“With Prince Deveron?” The king snorted.
“I wish to make the human my slave,” Ena quickly said, before she changed her mind and didn’t care what became of him and before the king grew so irate about her not bringing the princess home, he decided she didn’t deserve any reward at all.
Or worse. A courtier never could tell when a king…or queen, decided the person was more of a detriment than it was worth and that would be the end of the fae.
Ena had come to the human’s aid, she told herself, because Alicia would have done so herself. She liked the princess, who hadn’t seen Ena as something vile—a dragon fae who could shift into a dragon. Maybe it was because Alicia was different also—not fully dragon fae, and she’d been raised among humans.
The boy cast a quick worried glance at Ena as if he was concerned he might become her practice target while she worked on her skill at breathing fire. As if she needed practice. He looked back at the king who was studying her carefully.
“Why?” he asked. “You love gold and jewels. You hoard them. That’s all you’ve ever asked for when you’ve completed an assignment for me. This mission was more important to me than any other you’ve done. You could ask for anything. Why this…” The king waved his hand at Brett like he was an insignificant pest. “…human?”
“He will be malleable,” she said. “I haven’t had a slave in years.” Never, but she didn’t want the king to hear of it. They were too much of a nuisance. She’d much rather have fae servants who she paid a decent wage to and who were like family—in their odd sort of way.
The king sat back on his throne and looked circumspect, as if he was seriously considering her request, maybe trying to figure out what she was up to. “Your brother won’t like it.”
“We live apart. He doesn’t have to like what I do.”
“You can keep this human under your control?” the king asked.
As if he had to ask. She smiled. “He knows exactly what I can do to him should he disobey me in any way.”
King Tibero sighed. “He’s yours then. Though you have made a poor bargain in him. Take him away before I change my mind.”
“Your Kingship,” Ena said, quickly curtsying and grabbing hold of her new and first and only slave—to be servant—and whisked him away, wondering if she’d temporarily lost her mind.
***
Micala paced across his chamber, furious with the fae seers who very nearly killed Princess Alicia. He would have never forgiven himself should she have died. Though his regret would have be
en short-lived because Prince Deveron would have killed him should that have occurred.
But he couldn’t give up Cassie. Three days apart from her since last week, and he was about to go mad. Was she all right? Did any of the fae seers know he was seeing her? Would they hurt her, believing she had some connection to the fae?
He couldn’t quit thinking about her. Or worrying about her. Or wanting to be with her.
He walked over to his window and stared out at the tops of the trees beyond the castle walls. Alicia hadn’t even told the queen, his aunt, why she’d been to see her friend, Cassie. Not the real reason. Yet he’d overheard her speaking to Deveron about it in the gardens, telling him she would have broken up her friendship with Cassie, telling her she loved Micala, just to keep her friend from falling prey to the fae.
If he loved Cassie, he told himself for the millionth time, he’d leave her alone. He wouldn’t see her. He wouldn’t think about her. But he couldn’t quit thinking about her. Damn it.
If Alicia had the fortitude and loved her friend enough to want to protect her from the fae, from him, he damn well could do what had to be done.
Before anyone tried to stop him, or he changed his mind, Micala transported to Cassie’s brick home and in his invisible fae form sat on her front porch swing, waiting for her to come home from school.
As soon as he saw her arrive at home in some guy’s black pickup truck, Micala saw red.
Then he noticed she wasn’t leaving the truck. She was arguing with the guy, trying to get out of the vehicle. Micala would have transported into the back seat of the pickup and forced the human to let her go, but he sensed something wasn’t right.
A trap, he thought, because he was certain as soon as the guy pulled up into the drive, his gaze had shot straight to Micala sitting on the swing. He hadn’t been moving it. The teen couldn’t have guessed anything was amiss.
Yet for a brief passage of time, the guy had shifted his gaze to Micala, looked at him, then quickly away as though he hadn’t wanted Micala to know he was a fae seer. Cassie had turned to leave the truck, but the guy had quickly seized her arm and wouldn’t allow her to leave.
Was someone in the backseat? Hiding? Waiting for Micala to make the mistake of entering the truck and finding himself in iron manacles?
If so, they were watching Cassie, waiting for other fae that might be interested in her, like Alicia had been, using Cassie as bait.
What if Alicia returned to see her friend as she was known to do on occasion? She could very well be at risk again.
Micala transported himself next to Cassie’s door. The boy shouted something. Micala jerked open the door and grabbed for Cassie’s arm. The back doors were thrown open and it was now or never.
Chapter 5
Ena foresaw that as soon as she arrived at her keep, her people would forget their chores—as fast as word travelled around the dragon fae kingdom and as much as servants gossiped. She knew they’d be all agog at seeing her human prisoner.
She had five servants—one cook, two who cleaned, an advisor, butler, or whatever she needed him to be, and a lady’s maid. She didn’t really need a lady’s maid. She could dress herself—thank you very much—and she had no need for anyone to fix her long hair into coils of fancy hairdos like so many of the fae did, as hers was pixie short, shorn just the way she liked it. So she used the maid for whatever capacity she needed her for also.
The thing about her servants, she realized, was they were all misfits of one kind or another. The cook would never have found a more tolerant household to work for so that she could make her culinary dishes because she was always trying new recipes, wasting food stuffs, and creating disasters half of the time. But when she got it right, the meals were divine.
Her butler “butled” his way, so if he didn’t approve, he let her know. No way would he have ever been able to exhibit such outrageous behavior in another dragon fae household.
Her lady’s maid, owing to the fact that she didn’t dress her or create fancy hairdos for Ena, had to make do with whatever task Ena assigned her. Which was probably a good thing for the woman, because Ena had seen some of the disastrous results of the hairdos Muriel had concocted—which had gotten her fired—and she didn’t have the patience anyway to dress a squirming lady either. Her sharp tongue berating the lady for not holding still had earned her another prompt dismissal.
As for the cleaning maids, they used to be gardeners and neither could keep a plant alive, but they had no other skills—not that gardening had been one of theirs either. So they had at least a home—to clean.
They talked too much, giggled too much, didn’t dust enough, but otherwise, Ena really didn’t mind as long as they were in another part of the keep when she was about.
She gave Brett a sideways glance and wondered if she saw him as a misfit also. Not as in that he wasn’t capable of eliminating the fae, but that he was different from other humans in that he could see the fae, so in that regard, he was different also. And now, displaced from his world and lost in hers.
A misfit.
Now, the cook, the cleaners, her butler, and her lady’s maid all stood in the entryway of her small five-story, round stone keep, staring at the human.
“This is Brett,” she quickly said, motioning to the boy, foregoing formal introductions. He was her prisoner, after all. “My staff.”
Then she stalked through the keep, her boots making nary a sound on the stone floor, her human following obediently behind her, his sneakers making an annoying squishing/squeaking, whatever—icky sound. She’d have to have him outfitted in dragon boots—silent, perfect for stalking. With her sensitive ears, quiet was essential.
“Cook, is the meal ready?” she asked Lila.
“Aye, mistress.” The middle-aged woman cast a quick glance at Brett, her cheeks pale, and not from the flour she’d used to make pastries this morning, though the woman could look a fright sometimes when she finished preparing a meal.
Ena wondered how she could get so much of their meal all over herself as she was cooking it. Maybe Ena would be the same way if she cooked. What did she know? She stayed far away from the kitchen, not wanting to see what a mess it had become in the process. The cleaning maids stayed away from there, too. That was Lila’s domain and no one ever entered it.
When she noticed that Lila was not heading to the kitchen to deliver the meals to the dining hall, Ena realized she wanted to know about Brett. “Yes, yes, he needs to eat also.”
“Prisoner food?” Lila asked, her eyes wide.
What in the world did prisoners eat? Ena had never had one as a houseguest before and never had visited a dungeon where prisoners were being fed. Why would Lila need to make a special meal for him?
Ena glanced at Brett. His blue eyes were studying her. He didn’t look cowed like he ought to be, she thought. But she figured if she told Lila to feed him prisoner’s food, Lila would then ask her what that would be. Ena had no clue, but she didn’t want the prisoner to know this. Lila might feed him some of that burned slop she’d started out with this morning. Then again, Ena didn’t want to hurt Lila’s feelings and tell her to feed him whatever she had thrown out earlier today.
“Whatever I’m eating, he can eat,” Ena said.
Lila’s eyes widened.
What was Ena going to be eating? Maybe she shouldn’t have been too hasty in offering some of her food. Was it her favorite—calf’s liver? She lifted her nose and took in a deep breath. Salmon. She didn’t mind sharing that with the prisoner. Calf’s liver? That was another story.
“Then we lock him in the dungeon?” Ryker, her butler asked. He raised his black brows, punctuating his question.
She raised her black brows back at him.
She could see the hint of a smile in his expression—evil, yes—but it was there just the same.
The dungeon was where she hoarded her gold and other treasures. She’d claimed three caves, but it was too expensive hiring guards to watch them, so she had rele
nted and filled each cell in the dungeon with different kinds of treasure. If nothing else, she loved to organize her bounty. She could sit for hours counting her gold coins.
So how was the human to stay in one of her treasure cells? Sleeping on top of a pile of gold or silver, or gems? She couldn’t remember, but she thought the cots in each of the cells were buried beneath the precious metals.
Too much trouble. “He can stay in one of the guestrooms in back of the servants’ quarters.”
She thought there was a room, not much bigger than a closet, but by human standards—most likely similar to the size of the boy’s bedroom back home. Of course, he wouldn’t have a television, or computer, no Internet, no cell phone—well, he might still have one of those, but he wouldn’t be able to use it—not much of anything to keep him out of trouble, she realized.
He could be their gardener. They’d needed one forever. She’d asked her lady’s maid to pluck weeds from the rose garden, but she’d complained about pricking her fingers on the thorny roses. Ena had suggested she remove the thorns, but that idea hadn’t gone over big. Then Muriel didn’t like getting her hands dirty. She didn’t like sweating—in the summer months when the gardening needed to really be tended to. She didn’t like digging—to remove the stubborn weeds. The list went on and on.
The cleaning maids had killed the plants they were supposed to be caring for at their last places of employment, so Ena had not asked them to lift a hand in her gardens. The butler told her absolutely no to gardening. It was not a butler’s job. He spoke most eloquently and vehemently about what was.
And Cook, well, except for snipping herbs from the herb garden for the meals, she hadn’t time beyond creating new culinary disasters or successes—depending on Ena’s luck—to do anything else.
Ena figured someone would give her a hard time about her choice of accommodations for the prisoner, and sure enough, her guess was Ryker. The butler said, “Is…” Then seeing her sharp look—for once, and probably the only time ever—he bowed his head and said, “Aye, mistress.”
