Wandering Queen (Lost Fae Book 1) Page 22

  I’d barely noticed before, when I ran up here to pout. Never again. It was time to put that uncertain version of Alisa behind.

  Even though I felt quite fondly of her; that Alisa was warm and comfortable in her skin, even if she didn’t know her way in this world. She was loved in the human world, at least by her friends. I didn’t know if I’d ever see her face again, more rounded and flawed than the Fae face that Azrael had shown me in the mirror. Something in me ached and rebelled, but I forced the words out.

  “I don’t think this mortal enchantment suits me, do you?” I asked.

  “I thought you liked it,” he said.

  It seemed like a betrayal of myself to lie and say I didn’t like my mortal body, my mortal face. I refused to say those words.

  “I’m a Fae queen, not a mortal. It’s time I let it go.” As soon as I said the words, I knew they were true.

  This face had been my escape plan. As long as I looked mortal, I could walk back into the rip and escape back to my old life. If I changed my face, I committed myself to staying in this place, with these people—at least until I learned how to enchant myself.

  No more escape plans.

  His lips parted, then twisted as he corrected, “A Fae princess.”

  He’d fashion himself a king and turn me into nothing. I could see it on his face. He wanted me to be Raile’s queen—and I needed to figure out what Raile offered him—but never the queen of the summer court.

  “Of course,” I said with a smile. “You’ll forgive me. I don’t remember how anything works.”

  Let him think me as clueless as I felt.

  He sat forward, frowning. He was deliberating—he wanted me to keep looking as if I didn’t belong here—and I decided to talk over his internal dialogue.

  “I’ve heard people whispering how ugly I am as a mortal,” I said, imagining stabby deaths for those people, but Faer didn’t need to know my dreams. “How foolish the summer court looks.”

  His eyes narrowed. He didn’t like that.

  “Of course I’ll help you, sister.” He rose from his chair in one smooth movement, already holding his hand out to me.

  I took his fingers lightly, and he helped me off the throne.

  I smiled at him warmly. One day I’d help him out of his throne.

  “Summer magic,” he murmured, facing me. “Lift this enchantment and reveal my sister’s true face.”

  A glow suffused us both, and I heard a sharp gasp from the crowd.

  He looked beautiful in that moment, his lavender hair floating around his face, his silver eyes bright in that cruelly handsome face. He was limned by light, his power glowing around him in a soft golden blur.

  No wonder humans followed Fae into the immortal gardens. With that gorgeous face and a slight smile curving his mouth, he was the perfect predator.

  His magic felt like sunlight on my face, and the light around us glowed brighter, deeper. I struggled to keep my eyes open as they watered because the brightness was blinding. I finally had to shut them, but before that, I saw him grit his teeth, as if it were a struggle to break my magic.

  The heat on my face had felt welcome, comforting, but suddenly it was too intense. It burned my skin, beat against my eyeballs. My lips felt as if they’d gone dry. Every muscle grew heavy, then weak. Pain swept through my body, deep as bone. Every muscle cramped.

  As I fell to my knees, my hand slipped out of his. The pain was unbearable, and I let out a scream.

  Then the agony faded, as abruptly as it had begun.

  I opened my eyes to find Faer on his knees. He gasped for breath, and he stared at me with narrowed eyes as if he hated me.

  “I know who enchanted your face,” he spat. “I remember the feel of their magic.”

  “Who?” The word came out cracked, my voice parched.

  A cruel smile spread across his face. “You’re not their queen, Alisa. And you never will be. You were happier dirtside than you’ll ever be here.”

  I might have tried to murder him just then, but my legs felt as if they were made of gelatin. Exhaustion weighed on me, all the heavier a burden because I had to hold my shoulders steady and chin high. I couldn’t show any weakness.

  Then suddenly, I saw Azrael standing at the very bottom of the dais. He couldn’t come up to the dais unless I invited him.

  I raised my fingers, beckoning him.

  The room had gone so silent during the flare of Faer’s magic that each of Azrael’s footfalls rising up the stone steps rang through the cavernous space. There was only the faintest whisper of voices, beginning to murmur.

  My mind raced; if Azrael carried me out of here, how weak would I look?

  Faer rose and, still half bent over, stumbled the few feet to his throne. Somehow breaking that enchantment had almost destroyed him; he must have thought it would be easy, though. He’d never risk looking foolish in front of the court.

  There’d been some kind of special power in that enchantment. I’d need to find a way to drag the secret from his unwilling, lying lips.

  Azrael slid his arm around my waist. His body blocked me from the crowd. I expected him to sweep me up to his chest, but he murmured into my ear, “Show them how much stronger you are than Faer, Majesty.”

  He lifted me easily to my feet. I swayed on my aching legs—I felt drained as if I’d just run for my life—then caught myself, wrapping my hand around his corded forearm.

  He pressed his arm tightly against his body, holding me up as much as he could, though I walked on my own.

  Together, the two of us swept down the dais and through the crowd. I heard the crowd murmur around us as they melted away, making space for us to pass. I held my chin high, a smile fixed on my face.

  The music began to play along, a slower song, almost a dignified one. I glimpsed the fiddle players from the corner of my eye. Their faces were intent on their instruments as their bows swept back and forth.

  I looked for Raile, for some reason, but I didn’t see him in the crowd. Most of the faces tonight were unfamiliar, despite all the whirlwind introductions I’d been through lately.

  Then we were out into the hall, leaving all the noise behind as the guards closed the doors behind us. We were in the long moonlit marble hall, which was filled with statues. At one end, the hall stood open to a flower-filled verandah, to the ocean outside and the depth of the dark night.

  I stumbled, and Azrael was there without hesitation, catching me in his arms and bearing me up against his chest.

  I shouldn’t be so vulnerable with him, but everything ached and I wasn’t sure I could walk.

  I let my head fall against his chest as he carried me up the stairs. Sleep seemed to crowd my mind even as he was carrying me. The swaying of his arms felt like safety.

  “Well played, my queen,” he said softly into my ear. He carried me into my bedroom and lay me on the bed.

  I woke up hours later, still in my gown and slippers. As I stared up at the dark ceiling, I wondered if I’d really heard those words, or if I’d just dreamt them.

  Well played, my queen.

  Everything in the summer court was mysterious, but the biggest puzzles of all were the visiting princes of the autumn court.

  Or were they the trapped princes of the autumn court?

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Tiron

  I was dozing against Alisa’s door when I sensed movement on the other side. I started to scramble to my feet, but when the door was wrenched open, I tumbled backward into the room.

  I landed on my back on the marble, and before I could rise, Alisa straddled me. Her ass slammed into my stomach—with more force than was natural, given her delicate bones—and knocked the breath out of me.

  That beautiful face rose above mine, similar but different than before, her lavender hair hanging around us both. Her face was resolute, beautiful but dangerous.

  Her lips parted and her eyes widened as she registered who I was. Oh good—once she recognized me, she didn’t feel l
ike stabbing me. I’d bet Duncan couldn’t have said the same.

  “Tiron, why are you sleeping against my door?” she demanded.

  “Because you never invited me in.” I winked at her.

  She gave me a skeptical look and rose to her feet. “Well, apparently inviting you would be unacceptable behavior for a princess. And we all know I’d never want to be a bad princess. Would you flag someone down for breakfast, please? I’m starving.”

  I was willing to bet that she was drained from the magic last night. Azrael had told us all about her transformation the previous night—as best he could, above the sound of Duncan alternating between scoffing and throwing back glasses of whiskey. Somehow Duncan had found time to smuggle a bottle back from dirtside. He was resourceful when it came to his bad habits.

  I stepped back into the hall and stopped a passing servant. When I came back, Alisa stood before the mirror built into a vine-covered stone archway. Her fingertips rested lightly on her chiseled cheekbones, and she studied her face. Her eyes were dark and shadowed in that lovely, expressionless face.

  “Breakfast is on its way,” I promised her, walking up behind her. I cocked my head, looking at our shared reflections. “What do you think?”

  Her eyes flickered to my reflection. “You’re very handsome, Tiron. But you knew that already.”

  Her lips turned up, her tone teasing. I could almost see her press any genuine emotions she felt down into a box, deep inside.

  “I’m glad I please your Majesty,” I returned.

  As she turned to face me, she ran her hand over the stiff, jeweled bodice of her gown. “Where is Azrael?”

  Somehow it bothered me to hear his name on her lips. She was focused on him even when we were face-to-face.

  “He had some…autumn court…business to deal with.”

  She cocked her head to one side. “Tell me more about that.”

  I huffed a laugh. “You should ask him yourself.”

  “Azrael’s not exactly forthright with me.” She tilted her head to one side, studying me with those bright eyes. “You destroy a man’s little kingdom one time, and he just can’t get over it.”

  She was gauging me somehow, testing me. I stared back at her, unanswering.

  She patted my cheek. “I hope someday you have that same loyalty for me, Tiron.”

  My lips parted, but she was already turning. She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it on top of her head, displaying her long neck and the bare lines of her shoulders. “Azrael has been filling in as my maidservant since Nikia made herself…unreliable. Since he’s gone, I need you to undress me.”

  “Ah,” I said, eloquently.

  “Come on, brave knight. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little ribbon and lace.”

  “I’m afraid of you specifically,” I said dryly, “and a bit afraid of Azrael.”

  “Why Azrael?” she asked.

  Did she really not see the protective, possessive fury he radiated around her? Maybe they were both blind to their own feelings.

  And Duncan looked at me as if he wanted to slap me every time I looked at Alisa twice. Duncan would claim it was for my own protection, because he was even more of an emotional dunce than the other two.

  I liked them all, but the three of them might well be hopeless.

  I sighed and began to undo the corset. She stepped away as soon as I’d unknotted the top.

  “Never mind. It’s so loose now.” She wriggled it down over her body, and I turned my back. She kept on talking anyway, and from my peripheral vision I caught a glimpse of her stepping out of the skirt. “The hems of the dresses used to drag on the ground. They don’t now. I’m just a bit taller, I guess—and quite a bit thinner.”

  She didn’t sound happy at the idea. “I worked hard for my muscles. Now they’re gone overnight.”

  If she was going to stand there naked and stare in the mirror, I guessed I could open my eyes. She examined her body, which was tall and narrow, straight as an arrow. She ran her hands over small, high breasts and the delicate flare of her narrow hips. I was instantly hard, my cock straining at the front of my pants. Shouldn’t have looked.

  Then she turned and took a few quick steps before plunging into the pool, raising a splash that soaked my pants. The sight of her bare shoulders, the taper of her waist, the curve of her ass… I glanced away, but I was too late. That memory would surface in my dreams.

  “Sorry,” she called. She was treading water, looking up at me with a worried expression. “I needed a bath after sleeping in my clothes. I didn’t mean to offend you. I thought the Fae were comfortable with nudity.”

  “Quite comfortable, yes,” I said, wiping my face absently. Men and women bathed together all the time.

  Of course that didn’t mean the bathing was always innocent, either.

  No matter how comfortable I was with swimming naked with other females, I wasn’t comfortable with how I felt around Alisa. It might be best for my mission to seduce the princess and win her to my side.

  But it felt like the deepest betrayal, when I didn’t want to betray her at all.

  “I just thought you were thoroughly… mortalized now,” I added.

  “You make me want to splash you,” she said with a laugh. “Come join me.”

  “As your Majesty wishes.” I deadpanned.

  “I need you to stop doing that, or I’m going to do more than splash you,” she warned. “Call me Alisa, and don’t be a jerk about my title.”

  “I’m sure it’s temporary anyway.” I grabbed my shirt hem one-handed, then dragged it up over my head.

  She was floating in the water, her hair floating around her face, but despite her relaxed pose, I was sure she was watching me. I untied my pants and let them slide down my hips. I knew she was probably used to wearing underwear now, but Fae didn’t.

  “What do you mean?” she frowned.

  “You’ll be a queen soon.” Instead of diving in as she had, I waded down the steps. “The water’s surprisingly cold.”

  “One way or another, I guess,” she said, but I had no doubt that Alisa would find a way out of avoiding Raile unless it pleased her. Even if it meant gutting him instead. “And I like it cold.”

  “Why? That’s an odd preference… except for the deep-sea merfolk, of course.” Maybe she had some mermaid in her lineage.

  She tilted her head to one side, considering. “I don’t know.”

  I was tempted to ask her if she’d always had that preference, but of course she didn’t know. It was hard to make small talk with someone who didn’t have memories of their life growing up or anything else.

  I might very well know Faer better than she did. Lucky me.

  “Duncan wants me to fetch you for the training yard,” I told her as I floated on my back. My outstretched hand bumped hers, and I started to pull away, but she turned her face in the water and smiled at me. She looked like an angel floating in the water.

  “Come with me,” she said. “I feel like he and Azrael are keeping us apart, when you’re the only one I like.”

  I laughed. “Perhaps they are. They both have a mission they’ve given themselves. Azrael is teaching you etiquette and Duncan gets the pleasure of playing swords with you daily. Meanwhile, I’ve been left in the cold.”

  “I think there are other things I need to learn. Like magic,” she murmured. Then she turned to me and added, “You’ll come? Help me tease Duncan out of his shell?”

  Her voice was arch and playful. But she looked at me with drops of water clinging to her lashes, her eyes wide and luminous and aching.

  “Yes,” I said, already able to picture the look on Duncan’s face. “There are other things you need to learn too, Alisa. Like how to use your wings.”

  A look of wonder—and uncertainty—spread across her face. “Wings?”

  “One night soon,” I promised her. “You and I will sneak out.”

  “Do we have to sneak?” she asked, a teasing edge in her voice. “Doesn’t
a princess get to make some decisions for herself?”

  I would’ve answered her seriously, but she was already going on, “Sneaking is always more fun, of course. It will add a bit of excitement to our tutoring sessions.”

  She must already know the answer, and she didn’t want to hear it.

  Maybe Alisa would rewrite what it meant to be a princess, just as Azrael said she had before.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Duncan

  “Why are the two of you wet?” I looked between the two idiots in front of me.

  Tiron’s wet blond hair curled around his ears, just beginning to dry, and Alisa’s long, damp lavender hair was pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. Tiron gave me a fake innocent look that was familiar—but never stopped irritating me nonetheless—and Alisa smiled and shrugged, never particularly sorry.

  It was far too easy for me to imagine the two of them swimming in that pool together, Tiron’s hands tracing the slender lines of her body, palming her breasts in the water. The image pissed me off and made me hard all at once.

  I turned my back on them so neither of them would see how I felt. “Get on your goddamn horses. You’re late.”

  Tiron went to her side, helping her saddle her horse. Then he hovered beside her, watching her mount up.

  “Don’t coddle her,” I snapped.

  Alisa’s gaze rose to mine, her eyes widening, before a smile spread across her face. “You’re right, Duncan. Thank you for expressing your faith in my abilities. I know that can be hard for you.”

  Tiron ducked his head, hiding a grin as he went to his own horse.

  During our entire ride, no matter what I said, Alisa found a way to twist every complaint about her failings into some compliment. She responded warmly, as if every grouchy remark I made was some sweet and tender affirmation. I fell silent before we reached the clearing. She was impossible. She just liked to irritate me.

  And she was so very good at it.

  We reached the clearing where we’d practiced before. I dismounted and enchanted my horse, and left Tiron to help Alisa, since he clearly loved to do so.