by Terry Spear
“You’ll earn a wage. You can pay me back,” she finally said. Maybe he thought she was giving them as gifts. Well, she wasn’t. She hadn’t planned to charge him for his first set of fae clothes either. They were just part of doing his job. Not presents, as such.
He raised his brows at her, that darkly suggestive smile reappearing as if he was highly amused.
“Gardening,” she clarified, just in case he was thinking about her love slave remark to her brother over dinner the other night. Brett probably wasn’t, but she was thinking of it when he gave her that look.
“Gardening. Lawn mowing? I can do that.”
“Lawn…mowing? We have gardens. Weeding, digging holes for new plants, trimming branches, sweeping up leaves—gardening.”
He glanced around at the boots and folded his arms. “I don’t see any that would be gardening boots.”
“They are whatever you make of them. Hiking boots? Gardening boots? Playing board games? They are good for any of these things.”
He lifted one pair of suede boots she’d noticed he’d spied right away and though he’d glanced at others, his gaze kept drifting back to the knee-high boots that laced up the front. Of course they had to be the most expensive pair in the shop.
“Come on, come on. We don’t have all day,” she said. If those were the ones he wanted, so be it.
“If I’m going to buy them, I’ll need to know the prices. For comparison,” he said.
“See if those fit and if they feel comfortable, we’ll get them. I will tell you how much you owe me later.” It was bad enough that Mr. Fitzwilliam knew the prisoner was going to be on her staff and paid a weekly wage. She didn’t want to say how much in front of him also. The word would soon make the rounds.
Not that she intended to tell Brett that the boots would cost him a whole month’s worth of wages. If he had just picked out a pair, she would have given them to him for free!
He sat down on a hand-carved bench and slipped his feet into the boots, then proceeded to lace them up. He stood and walked around the shop.
He frowned. “I’m not sure. They’re a little snug around the toes, and the heel is just a little bit wide.”
“Try on another pair then.” Did he spend this much time when he picked out those squeaky sneakers?
He tried on ten more pairs of boots, but it didn’t take a mind reader to know he wanted the first pair. Still, if they didn’t fit well…
“I like those,” Brett said, after putting away the last pair of boots he’d tried on. He was very neat, not leaving the footwear all over the place for Mr. Fitzwilliam to put away.
She was impressed.
Brett motioned to the ones he’d tried on in the beginning. “Those aren’t too bad.”
“But if they don’t fit…”
He gave her a warning look. She raised her brows at him.
He frowned, eyeing the boots, arms folded. “Maybe if they were priced a bit less…then I wouldn’t feel so reluctant to have to break in the boots so that they fit better.” He glanced at Ena.
She scowled at him. “Do the boots fit or not? You will have us waste a whole day at the village when you have gardening work to do.”
She hated shopping. The quicker the better. She was not one to—as the human’s would say—window shop.
“Yes, I want them, but only if we can get the storekeeper to come down on the price.”
“You don’t even know how much they cost.”
He rolled his eyes at her. She stared back at him, her mouth open. She had heard that Princess Alicia used that human mannerism and had started quite a trend among the dragon fae at court. But Ena had never seen anyone do that. And certainly not at something she had said.
She grabbed the boots and shoved them at Brett. “Put them on.”
He seized them before she let go of them, and then she turned to Mr. Fitzwilliam. “Add the cost of the boots to my account, will you?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled broadly at her and gave Brett another cold glower, then walked back to his counter to add the sale to his books.
When Brett was done lacing his boots, he picked up his sneakers.
She immediately said, “Leave them. Mr. Fitzwilliam will dispose of them.”
“They cost $150! They’re great shoes. There is not a thing wrong with them.”
“Then he’ll give them away to some poor urchin who will drive his family nuts with the sound of him squeaking everywhere he walks.”
“That’s what this is all about? You want me to buy…”
She seized the sneakers from his grip, set them on a bench, grabbed Brett’s arm, and hauled him out of the shop. “This is my world, you work for me, and I set the rules. No questions asked.”
“I was only trying to get him to come down on the price in there. Aren’t you supposed to barter?”
“I’m a dragon shifter!” she said, as if that explained everything.
He stared at her as she led him to the men’s clothes shop past one of the taverns. She let out her breath. “I have hoards of treasure tucked away. If the shopkeepers ever came down on their prices for anyone, it would never be for any of the dragon shifters.”
“Oh.” He saw where they were headed next and he said, “Don’t tell me my clothes squeak, too.”
She chuckled and the sound of it made him quickly look down at her.
“I like it when you laugh,” he said.
“Don’t get used to it.”
He smiled and his expression made her think she’d just issued him a challenge. “So why do I have to wear fae clothes? You don’t.”
“What do you think I’m wearing?” she asked.
“Well, I guess they are from this world, but they’re atypical.”
“That’s because I’m not the same.”
“All right. Then why can’t I be different?”
“You are. Too dissimilar. Wearing our clothes will help you to stand out less.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“I…I don’t want you to be treated unkindly while you’re here. You will be anyway because of your past history. But if you at least dress like us…well, like the rest of the people living here, you’ll kind of fit in more. Maybe over time, your newness will wear off and people will see you for what you really are. Hopefully that will be good.”
“You have your doubts?”
“You wanted to move Princess Alicia to another location, not leave her and run away. Why? Did you still intend to kill her?”
“I never wanted to kill her. She was different than the others. And one of the other boys remembered her from school last year. She was a good friend of Cassie’s last year, he said. She undoubtedly had come to see her. Another fae was seeing Cassie. We didn’t know what it meant. Were the fae now looking to have friendships with humans? If so, how could we kill them if things were changing between us?”
“Hey!” Alton shouted from the tavern steps they’d passed. “Ena! Wait up!”
Now she wanted to roll her eyes. She definitely didn’t want to talk to Alton right this moment. Not with Brett here. And not when she was not done being angry with her brother.
Chapter 12
That night, Deveron slept deeply only to wake to the sound of the waves crashing on the beach down below. He felt a warm body sleeping in his arms. His eyes popped open. Alicia.
He took a relieved breath. Goddess he was glad he hadn’t gotten cold during the night and had been snuggling up to Micala instead.
Alicia was still sleeping soundly. He glanced behind him and saw Micala and Cassie spooned together, fast asleep. Why…why were they here? No longer in the treetop cabins? And where exactly was here? How long had they been here?
That’s when he saw three dark fae trackers and five guards heading for them. Before he could call out an alarm and wake his sleeping companions, three of the trackers tossed iron mesh nets over them.
He hadn’t expected his freedom to be cut short that fast.
T
he next thing he knew, the guards had taken them to the Denkar dungeon—locking Alicia and Cassie in one cell, and Deveron and Micala in another. He was ready to strangle Micala for getting him in a bind with his mother and Alicia. And making such a disaster of Cassie’s life.
“What do you think your mother intends to do with us?” Alicia asked, peering through the bars at Deveron.
He paced, so furious with the predicament they were in, he couldn’t think straight.
Footfalls sounded and they turned to look to see who was coming. A guard escorted a pretty brunette woman down the corridor between the cells. Deveron thought he recognized her from the dragon fae kingdom. Countess Salimina, he thought.
She smiled brightly at Alicia as the guard led her to her cell.
Alicia shook her head. “I won’t leave Cassie behind.”
“You won’t need to. Queen Irenis has given me permission to take you home.”
Deveron had a sinking feeling that Alicia’s grandfather would lock her in a retaining collar, and he wouldn’t see her again without King Tibero’s express permission. Which might even mean supervised visits.
Which also meant, Deveron would have to break her out of her castle as soon as he could.
Alicia frowned at the countess. “My grandfather—”
“All will be well,” Countess Salimina assured her, smiling. “Really. I have never told you anything but the truth. Trust me.”
The guard unlocked the cell and pulled the door aside.
Alicia glanced at Deveron, her expression one of wariness. He watched her, wanted to tell her not to go, but he couldn’t. This was her decision to make. She had to know he would come for her, that her grandfather could not keep them apart.
He didn’t know how, but he’d come up with a plan.
She took Cassie’s hand, then left the cell. His heart was pounding so hard, he felt it would burst with terror that she was leaving him. No one had ever made him feel that way before. And he didn’t believe anyone would ever make him experience the kind of exhilaration he always felt when he was with her.
She crossed the floor and stood before Deveron’s cell, then she turned to the guard and said, “Unlock it so I can say goodbye.”
The guard, stony-faced all except for the slightly raised black brows, shook his head.
He probably assumed the four of them would attempt to flee. Which they would have.
She scowled at him, then turned her attention to Deveron, and released Cassie’s hand. Alicia poked her small face through the bars as much as she could, closed her eyes, puckered her lips, and waited for his kiss.
He had to smile. He slipped his hands outside of his cell, placed them on the sides of her head and kissed her…softly, deepening the kiss, loving her. He didn’t want to let go of her, and knew as soon as he did he’d feel bereft.
The countess cleared her throat.
Deveron ignored her, kissed Alicia like he’d never have a chance again—which considering what his mother and Alicia’s grandfather might have in mind—could very well be a reasonable assumption.
“My lady,” the countess said. “We must go.”
Deveron leaned his forehead against Alicia’s, trying to regain his equilibrium because she totally unbalanced him, and whispered, “I will come for you. One way or another.”
She swallowed hard and her eyes filled with tears.
He kissed her again, hating that he couldn’t pull her close, couldn’t wrap his arms around her, couldn’t hold her tight.
And then the countess took Alicia’s arm and pulled her gently away. “Come. We must hurry.”
Alicia mouthed to Deveron, “I love you.”
He nodded. She knew how he felt. She knew he’d move the world to get to her.
Alicia took hold of Cassie’s hand and the countess wrapped her arm around Alicia’s waist and they were gone.
Deveron turned to scowl at Micala. This was all his fault. But when he turned, he saw how devastated Micala looked.
Ah, hell, how could he be angry with his cousin when he felt the same way about Cassie?
***
Alton stalked toward Ena and Brett as they paused in front of the men’s clothing shop. “Where have you been? Halloran said you’d gone on another mission for the king, but I suspected he wasn’t telling me the truth.”
“You mean, he was lying. I was locked in his dungeon. Are you sure you hadn’t known that?” Alton was definitely off her list of acceptable mates if he had known.
“No. I hadn’t. Damn him.” Alton appeared as though he was telling the truth. But then it was hard to tell sometimes with inscrutable shifter expressions.
“Yes, well, I’ll have words with him when he returns.”
“I’m sorry. I would have freed you at once had I known. Why did he do it?”
“Princess Alicia had come to protect Cassie, her human friend, and apparently Queen Irenis wanted the girl for one reason or another. Supposedly, my brother thought to protect me.”
“Oh,” Alton said.
She got the distinct impression Alton was rethinking the situation and he might have locked her up in his dungeon! Or…bedchamber if he could have gotten away with it.
Alton glanced at Brett and scowled. “Why is he wearing fae boots?” He knew the human couldn’t have bought them on his own.
She sighed. The word would get all over the village and beyond before nightfall that she was outfitting her prisoner in fae clothes, giving him special treatment. She imagined some wouldn’t like it. But he was her first prisoner and she’d do with him as she believed fair and just.
“Not that it’s any of your concern, I couldn’t stand to hear him walk in those squeaky sneakers one more moment.”
Alton peered closer at the boots, then his face darkened. “Those are the top of the line boots that Fitzwilliam sells.”
She shrugged. “They fit him the best and he liked them the most.”
“You let him select them? He’s a prisoner! Those boots cost a fortune.”
She saw that Brett was watching her now, speculation written all over his face. She wanted to tell him not to read more into what she’d done than that she had wanted to do it and that was it.
“I’ve got more shopping to do. I’ll see you later,” she said dismissively to Alton.
“We missed lunch,” he said, annoyed.
“Yes, well you can blame that on Halloran. I was sitting in his cell in the dungeon, remember? Brett led my staff on a rescue mission to free me or I’d still be there.”
“He killed fae!”
“Halloran?” she asked. She knew very well Alton meant Brett, but her brother had killed fae also, as part of his duty, battles they’d fought, it was part of who they were.
“No! Him.” Alton pointed an accusing finger at Brett.
“Ah, well, as I said, I’ve got more shopping to do.” She continued to the men’s shop.
Alton called out, “You can’t mean to dress the rest of him in fae clothes.”
She turned and opened her mouth to reply, but Brett said, “I’d prefer to wear my own clothes.” She got the distinct impression from the way he said it to her, not as if he wanted to, but as if he wanted to smooth things over between her and Alton. She didn’t need a human’s help in that regard.
“That isn’t what I wish.” Her voice was low and growly, and her whole demeanor told him to accept it and shut up. She headed for the shop again and shoved open the door.
Brett quickly followed her inside. “He’s jealous of me,” he said to her, sounding pleased about the whole scenario as if the dragon shifter had a reason to be envious!
“No, he’s not,” she said, giving him a sideways glower that meant Brett needed to watch what he said among her people.
The shopkeeper straightened his impeccable gray blue tunic that matched his gray blue eyes and hair and smiled at Ena. “Another gift for your brother?”
He glanced at Brett and bowed his head very slightly in greeting.
The mention of her brother made her want to roar. Instead, she gave Mr. Everett an annoyed look and said, “For Halloran? Iron manacles if you have them.” Which she knew the shopkeeper wouldn’t have, but he’d figure Halloran was not in her good graces. Then she motioned to Brett. “I want him dressed in the fae way. Help him pick out the correct sizes, will you?”
“Yes, Mistress Ena. Right away.” He motioned to the costliest line of tunics hanging on racks in the front of the shop.
She shook her head. The boots were one thing. They could be worn for any occasion. The tunics were reserved more for special festivities. He wouldn’t be needing anything like that.
“Show him some that would work for every day outdoor jobs. Gardening and—”
“Rescuing dragon shifters from dungeons,” Brett said with a hint of a smile.
She gave him a narrow-eyed look. She hadn’t wanted the whole village to know that she’d needed rescuing! Especially not when her prisoner had to do the rescuing.
Brett’s smile broadened. She thought he had a nice smile, and that he probably used it to get his way with all the human girls back home. If she had been human, she might have even fallen for his charm.
Mr. Everett watched their interaction, brows raised, but then he cleared his throat, evidently taken aback by the revelation. Did he realize now why she had wanted manacles for her brother? Maybe he was just surprised to hear that the human prisoner had come to her rescue. Or that he even spoke when he should have remained quiet.
He studied Brett for a moment more, then said, “I have just the thing.”
They were still high-end priced tunics, but more suitable for labor rather than for court appearances.
“Trewes, same thing,” she said.
Mr. Everett gathered up several brown tunics in various designs. She wrinkled her nose at the duller colors. She loved black because it was a fashion statement, as far as she was concerned. Brown was too dull for her. She imagined because with her black hair, it just didn’t look all the great.
“Some blue please,” she said.
Mr. Everett looked at her. She felt her cheeks warm…then the feeling spread through her blood.
