“My lord?” a male said from the other side of the room.
Rainne’s breath stopped at hearing the melodic voice.
She turned as if in a dream and stared at the elf she’d last seen bleeding in the forest. “You…” Her mouth worked, searching for words, but none came.
“Have we met?” The elf approached, pausing to straighten the book Finnick had set down. His pale hair gleamed in the morning sun. His eyes glowed green, then blue, then a dusky shade of grey. She could stare at them for hours, they were so mesmerizing.
“No, erm, I just, erm, we aren’t accustomed to having visitors and you startled me.”
“It wasn’t my intention.” He placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head.
This wasn’t happening. Couldn’t be happening. How the hell had the elf found his way to Duir Castle? She’d sent him to the village and the healers there. Her stomach wrenched violently and she placed a hand on her abdomen to keep from being sick. He’d seen her, but did he know she was the same girl?
“You’re injured.” She pointed to the bandage at his neck.
“A rather unfortunate misunderstanding with a wolf in the woods, I’m afraid.”
Rainne took a long, steadying breath. “You were in the woods? But they’re so dangerous. Mother never let me ride in them, and even Finnick won’t go near them. Isn’t that right, Stepfather?”
Finnick nodded, his eyes wide. “They are indeed dangerous.”
Something in the way he spoke, as if he knew what they’d encountered in the woods, unnerved her. As if perhaps wolves weren’t the only beasts lurking in the darkness. An image of Finnick fighting a pack of snarling creatures all alone came to mind. Compassion tugged at her to reach out a comforting hand, but she kept her fists at her side. He’d lost the right to her empathy when he cursed her.
They stood there, three strangers almost, adrift in the study. Pora rubbed along her trousers and meowed, startling her. Finnick roused himself from whatever memory had stolen him from the present and cleared his throat.
“I seem to have forgotten my manners. Your Highness, allow me to present to you the jewel in House Dequette’s crown, Lady Delarainne.” To her, he said, “Darling, this is His Royal Highness Prince Theodonys Mistwalker.”
A prince? A bloody fucking prince? Rainne bit her lower lip and hoped the silken fabric of her trousers was baggy enough to hide the trembling in her legs. She’d kissed him! He could have her beheaded for that. Or could he? Would he? Pora purred against her leg and she had the distinct impression the silly cat was laughing at her.
Rainne curtseyed low, almost touching the floor with her outstretched hands. Her eyes locked on Pora’s and she silently begged for help. His little ears flicked forward to back, leaving her perplexed whether that meant he’d help or not.
“Your Highness. You honor us with your presence.” When she rose, the prince took her hand in his and kissed her fingertips. This time, she didn’t try to hide the tremble, hoping he thought it was nerves at meeting a member of the royal family and nothing more.
She kept her gaze on him as much as she could without appearing to stare. If he recognized her, he was adept at hiding it. Then again, the hand he held was the color of cream, not jade. She rolled her lip between her teeth. It was dark in the forest, and she’d kept her hood low, so he might not know the color of her skin. And why would he suspect a lady to be out in the woods at night?
That and a million other fractious thoughts spiderwebbed her mind.
“The pleasure is mine, surely. I thank you and your father for the hospitality.” The prince greeted her kindly, but not overly friendly, his gaze neither lingering on her face nor her chest, where most men’s gazes steadied. In fact, his tone suggested he had as much interest in her as he did Finnick.
“Stepfather,” she corrected him.
“Of course, my apologies.” He scanned the room, an uncomfortable silence following his words. “And is the duchess still abed?”
A sharp stab to Rainne’s heart stole her breath. No one mentioned the duchess. At least, not to her face. And never in the presence of her and Finnick. As far as Rainne was concerned, he was the cause of her mother’s illness. She blamed him as much for that as she did for being cursed. Of course, he denied both, yet couldn’t prove his innocence for either. Unfortunate accident, he’d said at the time. But how did a skilled rider like her mother end up in a dreamless sleep from a fall off her horse? Rainne wouldn’t allow herself to believe Finnick wasn’t responsible.
“The duchess is ill, I’m afraid.” Finnick’s voice caught on the last word.
Rainne glanced at him, expecting to see him gloating, but there was no glee, no hidden victory in his features. Just a sorrow that confounded as much as it comforted her.
“That’s a shame. I hope she will recover before I must continue my journey.”
“And where are you going?” The sooner the prince left, the better. Not just because of the illicit kiss she stole, but for the urges coursing through her blood at the sight of him. In all the years she’d been cursed, never before had the ogress’s lust followed to her elf form. The fluttering of her heart and tickling of her privates was enough to drive her to insanity.
“To see the kingdom.” His chipper voice was too contrived, as if he were hiding something. He straightened the cuffs of his shirt and smoothed his frockcoat.
“What an excellent time to do it.” Finnick put his hand on the prince’s shoulder and steered him to the door. “Young and robust, with summer not yet arrived. Well, let’s see if we can get you fit and hearty to continue your travels.”
Rainne watched her stepfather usher the prince out of the room. They were a study in contrasts with their looks and garments. Finnick dressed entirely in shades of brown, from his loose-fitting trousers to his sensible shirt. The prince wore luxe fabrics of silk and velvet, not at all appropriate for travel, but more for lounging around a palace. The bright blues and deep purples made him a peacock against the drab furnishings.
Finnick’s deep voice could be heard down the hallway as he and the prince discussed provisions His Highness would need. Finick wanted the prince gone just as much, possibly even more than she did. Why? Did he not want the prince to find out about the brigands and miscreants that threatened the southern border? If not, again, why? Despite her mistrust of him, Finnick did a fine job of keeping Duir safe from raiders.
“Well, that was interesting.”
“Indeed.” Pora slunk past her and darted after the men.
They had a strict rule that he wasn’t allowed to speak in front of others, except Alona, because, really, it was hard enough to keep him silent and he needed someone else besides Rainne to converse with. She wasn’t a total monster.
As far as she knew, he was the only talking cat in all of the kingdom and she’d not have him taken from her to be studied and dissected at some university. She’d read enough to know men of science thrived on destroying something to better understand it and Pora was her only friend. She’d die before she let anything happen to him.
Unfortunately, the silly cat didn’t see it the same way. He’d been a kitten when she was first cursed and had started talking shortly afterward. Rainne thought the two were connected, but Pora disagreed. He said he’d always had the gift of speech, but only chose to share his secret with her when he saw how distressed she’d been at turning into an ogre.
She hurried after Pora and the men, eager to hear what they discussed. Also to make sure the cat didn’t say anything inappropriate. They strolled through the castle, with Finnick asking the prince question after question about his adventures and His Highness giving terse answers. The more they walked, the more she believed he didn’t want to be at the castle any more than they wanted him there.
Breakfast was just as awkward. They sat at a table large enough to seat twenty-four comfortably, Finnick at the head with the prince to his right and Rainne to his left. She kept her eyes downcast and concentrated on her
food, afraid if she looked too long at the prince that he would see beyond her pale skin and call her out for her actions the previous night. Every bite she took tasted like sand in her dry mouth. If questioned, she couldn’t have said what food passed her lips, nor could she confirm if she drank tea.
Yet she could repeat with absolute clarity every word the prince uttered and Finnick’s replies.
When at last the prince said he needed to rest after a long night with the healers, Rainne let herself relax. She followed the men as Finnick escorted the prince to his rooms.
“Thank you, my lord.” Theodonys gripped Finnick’s hand in his own. “I appreciate your hospitality more than you know.”
“Master,” Finnick corrected the prince. “I am merely a steward for the castle while my lady wife recovers. I am no lord.”
The prince smiled genially and tipped his head. “Forgive me. I thought since you and the duchess were married—”
“I did not take a title when we wed. This is my home, but it is her peerage.”
Rainne watched the interplay of emotion on Finnick’s face. The way his eyes drooped and lips pursed. He was a good actor, she’d give him that much. The way he played the humble servant to the prince was laughable. He might not call himself a lord, but that was just a technicality. He ruled the castle with an iron fist, no doubt about that.
A sting of betrayal pierced her thoughts. Finnick had kept them all safe over the years, what with raiders getting bolder each season. Just as each night she patrolled the borders, he did so during the day with a small band of village folk, including the sword master.
The prince bid them farewell and Rainne smoothed a hand over her hair, being careful not to muss the braids. Alona would give her no end of grief if she undid the girl’s hard work.
“Dela, darling,” Finnick held her elbow and guided her away from the prince’s rooms, “the prince will only be here a few days and I think it best you try to avoid him as much as possible.”
She resisted jerking her arm away from his touch. Gods, but she hated that nickname. He was the only one who called her Dela and every time the word slipped from his tongue, an internal cringe twisted her guts.
“And why would I do that?” Avoiding the prince was exactly what she’d do, but she was curious to hear Finnick’s reasons.
Several servants hurried past, but her stepfather paid them no mind. “Guard your heart, dear one. The prince is handsome and young, but you and I both know it would be a doomed love affair. It’s imperative you don’t let the prince see you beyond sunset.”
Rainne snorted and turned to face her stepfather. “Like I need to be reminded. If you hadn’t cursed me, there wouldn’t be a problem, would there?”
He wasn’t startled by her words. In fact, his whole body seemed to shrink. “I’ve told you a thousand times, I didn’t curse you. I don’t know what happened. Your mother—”
“Don’t you dare tell me it was my mother’s doing. She’s unconscious, remember?” Rainne poked a forefinger at Finnick’s chest. “Because of you. Your humble servant act doesn’t fool me, Finnick Gortham. You stole my mother’s life and cursed mine. And not just any old curse, but to be an ogre—despised throughout the lands. If I could leave, where would I go that I wouldn’t be hunted? Pretend your innocence all you like. Simper as if you’re not lord here, but we both know the truth.”
She fled as fast as her slippered feet would carry her. At the end of the long hall, she turned and plastered herself against the wall to catch her breath and steady her rampant heartbeat. Sweat beaded on her forehead and a flush warmed her chest. Pora scampered around the corner and sat in the middle of the walkway, his hazel cat eyes huge against grey fur.
“What am I to do, Pora?” She’d never confronted Finnick before with such acrimony. Had never said the words burning in her heart—that she blamed him for her mother’s accident. Now, they were out and rather than dissipating her anger, inflamed it.
Seven years ago, on the very same night her mother fell into the deep, dreamless sleep from which she had yet to wake up, Rainne first turned into an ogress. Her adolescent body bent and snapped with pain so acute she thought she’d die from it. When Finnick had rushed to her rooms, he stared at her with a look she’d never forget—recognition. As if he’d known what she would become. She had stood before him then, tears streaking down cheeks the color of emeralds and instead of comforting her, he ordered everyone out of her rooms and locked her inside to face the horror alone.
She would’ve left him long ago—or even killed him if she’d had the nerve—but she wouldn’t leave her mother. Couldn’t leave her home. It wasn’t much, but the castle was where she felt safest in the world, even if she had to put up with Finnick.
He was what was wrong with everything in her life. And now he aimed to trap her in this lonely, loveless hell forever.
4
Prince Theodonys strolled the quaint halls of the castle, admiring the stonework. Master Finnick and his stepdaughter were kind enough to offer shelter, but he wouldn’t linger longer than necessary. If Therron hadn’t disappeared—gone off again on one of his mysterious journeys—Theo wouldn’t have been commanded to go after him. An adventure, his mother had said, as if Theo should’ve been delighted.
What would’ve delighted him was to find Therron at Duir Castle as he’d hoped. He managed to track his brother to a town just north of Duir, but then the trail went cold. If only Theo was as skilled as Therron at hunting. Or sword fighting, or diplomacy. In his heart, Theo knew there weren’t many princely things he was good at—except charting the stars and navigating ancient doorways. A secret he kept from everyone, including his parents, and especially Therron.
He put a hand to the bandage where the healer had applied a sticky ointment. She advised against traveling through the Duir Woods—as if he needed an old crone to tell him that. He’d heard tales of animals becoming more ferocious in the woods, but hadn’t given them much thought. Why would he? He’d never traveled beyond Elvenwood’s borders. Hell, he rarely traveled farther than the local pub or palace library, which was why his parents had sent him after Therron.
It was a fool’s journey meant to get him out from underfoot and see the kingdom. Well, he’d seen enough, thankyouverymuch. He had no desire to die by wolf attack or other means. The sooner he could return to Elvenwood, the better, but he couldn’t return without reason or information on Therron’s whereabouts.
He scraped a hand through his long hair with a sigh. There was much to envy about his older brother, but even more to lament. He envied Therron his freedom and sword skills, but he did not envy him the curse that forced him to travel—and live—among the fae. A sneer twitched Theo’s lip.
The fae were the cause of all his family’s problems. He had no love for them, or any other creatures of Faerie. Elves were strongest when they kept to themselves.
He snorted his derision and cocked his head. His brothers would’ve dispatched the wolves with as much speed and grace as the forest girl had. At the memory of the girl in the woods, his heart quickened. She was strong and fierce, bold in the face of danger like an elven warrior. Yet, she hadn’t smelled elven. Or, to be more exact, didn’t smell all elven.
His fingertips went to his lips. When she’d kissed him, at first he was shocked and angered, but the tenderness mixed with uncertainty in her kiss had softened his ire until he found himself kissing her in return. It was in that moment, when she pulled away, that he thought he saw a glint of forest on her skin. A trick of the moonlight, he’d told himself. Wolves in the woods were totally understandable, but not an ogress. At least, not this far north. Everyone knew ogres were large, dull creatures who lived to the far south of Faerie. They wouldn’t dare trespass into Elvenwood’s kingdom.
Nor would one risk her life to save an elven prince. An ogress would sooner eat him than protect his kind.
Simpson had been useless. The poor manservant had barely survived the ordeal with the wolves despite not be
ing involved in the slightest. Perhaps Theo’s father had been right when he suggested his son take a soldier with him instead of a valet.
Another rake of his hair ended with a sharp yank on a snarl. He grunted and tugged at the blasted thing until it came free. He passed a room and backtracked to pause in the doorway. A little thrill tickled his scalp. Sitting in front of a wide window, pointed to the sky, was a golden telescope. He took one step forward, then pivoted back into the hallway. He wouldn’t intrude on their private rooms, even if they had the telescope in the least advantageous location to see the stars. Perhaps at dinner he could bring it up.
He’d been following the stars last night when they veered off the path. The branches had obscured too much of the sky and he’d lost his way. It was a good thing the forest girl had shown up when she did. Unfortunately, she’d ridden off in a rush. The poor nag she rode positively swayed with lethargy.
And a cat. Had there been a cat? He turned down a darkened hallway without seeing any of the tapestries or family portraits hanging on the stone walls. Surely, he hadn’t dreamed a talking cat? To be fair, the healer’s medicine had been potent and his dreams, well, were colorful to say the least.
A slight blush warmed his cheeks at the memory of one particular dream where he and his forest maiden continued the kiss and much, much more.
“Are you lost?”
Theo halted and blinked at his surroundings. Lady Delarainne stood in front of him, a bemused smile on her face. Blast and rubbish. He’d hoped to avoid her for at least the better part of his stay. She was pretty enough to look at, with glossy auburn hair and sparkling eyes the color of fresh leaves, but he didn’t have time to waste on another simpering wannabe princess hoping to snag a prince for a husband.
Although, to be fair, she had neither simpered nor attempted to flirt in their brief meeting that morning.
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