Crypts and Crimes (Trixie Towers Book 3)

by Scarlett Dawn

  “I am not sure of that,” King Athon responded briefly, grudgingly accepting that his foe had the upper hand on this topic with his next words. “But since your soul mate is the renowned artist, I thought you might be able to tell us.”

  “Hmm.” Father peered over his shoulder at me. “What do you believe she would say, my heir?”

  My lips curved into a proud smile. “It means unity.”

  The elves were still superior.

  “Correctly so.” My king turned his head back around. “Blue means unity, King Athon.”

  I adored how the shifter king’s eyes pinched at the corners.

  King Elon’s nose scrunched, grumbling, “That means we must continue to stay united during our quests.”

  King Traevon hummed deep in his throat, peeking from the corner of his eyes to the gorgon king, his tone droll. “That is a splendid notion. No one should try to kill a royal off right now.”

  I snorted softly.

  King Elon really wanted Father dead.

  King Athon rubbed his hands over his face hard, chafing his skin to wake himself up. “That is all I have to say. We’re done here for now.”

  I tilted my head back and stared at the colorful glass.

  Natural sunshine was starting to shine through the ceiling; the Fae night lighting gradually waned.

  I asked bluntly, “Do you think our Fae-gifts are here yet?”

  “I hope to Fairy they are,” Queen Alora grouched. “I am ready to sleep without my door being broken down.”

  * * *

  “Father!” I shouted over the rushing wind blowing my hair all over my face—the dips and rises on a pegasus’s back were Fae awful for your hair. The rolling hills of the Elf Kingdom passed by far below us while we flew from High Pointe. “I am going to see Caspian. I’m fairly positive that I owe him an apology.”

  My king would not have gone easy on my cousin when I hadn’t returned home as I should have—interrogations regarding my whereabouts were sure to have transpired. In my defense, a dragon had captured me. There was no arriving home on time when a dragon’s talons swoop you out of the sky.

  King Traevon glared from his flying saddle, bellowing, “Are you really going to see him? Or are you running off with a lover again?”

  Red Louie was a dick. A green, winking dick.

  Huh…

  Gross. That was not a visual I wanted.

  I huffed. “I swear to you that I am going straight to Caspian’s. I will probably sleep there today.” The last decent sleep I had was when he was lying next to me. It was harder than expected to be away from him for too long—that, and dangerous quests bashed any uninterrupted slumber from my schedule. “In fact, I’ll most likely be sleeping into tomorrow.”

  King Traevon’s scowl stayed in full force, yelling, “If I find out you went anywhere else, you won’t be allowed to leave your castle for years.”

  I ground my teeth together and squinted in irritation. “You are being bloody ridiculous! I’m not going anywhere else.” I didn’t wait for his approval, instantly steering my Fae-gift away from him in a sharp left—Penelope obeying my prodding without rebuke after what happened the last time she didn’t do as ordered.

  My king did not appreciate my antics.

  The entire flight to Caspian’s I had a stalking king following in the distance, watching my every deviated path I veered on—I did it to irk him—until I landed safely in front of my cousin’s extremely private mansion, his dwelling set inside the side of a knoll.

  I patted Penelope’s flank when I jumped down and gifted my king a curt wave in the air where he hovered on Javon’s back. To the stable hand, who raced in my direction, I rumbled, “She needs to be groomed.” I kissed my Fae-gift’s nose and stalked in the direction of the back entrance, ignoring the servant as he bowed so low his hideously sharp nose touched the prickly grass.

  Behind me, he breathed in reverence, “Yes, Your Highness.”

  I jimmied the back door until it unlocked, hidden in the base of the lush, green hillock. I yawned and stumbled inside, trudging up each step of the small, spiral staircase, up to the top floor. I nodded to a house servant who literally fell to her knees at my appearance in the back hallway, apparently remembering me from when I was younger. I hadn’t the vaguest idea who she was.

  I strolled right into Caspian’s bedchamber.

  I halted in place at the view, and I grumbled, “Please tell me this is not an urge.”

  The two females underneath my cousin screamed.

  Caspian whipped his head around from a pair of tits, his bare ass staring me in the face. “Trix! What the fuck! A little warning would be appreciated.”

  The women grabbed desperately for blankets to cover themselves, doing a poor job of it, too. One of them pointed a finger at me, and she shouted, “Who the fuck is this?”

  I dropped my traveling bag on the ground and sighed heavily, my emerald eyes holding my cousin’s dark blue gaze. I was too tired for this bullshit. I asked bluntly once more, “Is this an urge?”

  “No.” Caspian leaned back on his knees and knocked the woman’s pointed finger down, away from me. His gaze narrowed as he calmed and looked at my weary face, and then his eyes swung to the two furious beauties before him. He hooked a finger over his shoulder. “It’s time for you to go.”

  “Thank goodness.” I started walking to his closet to find him pajama pants.

  “Are you jesting right now?” the vocal one screeched.

  “Not in the slightest.” Caspian jumped off the bed, stalking in my direction. “You have two minutes to be out of here. Hurry the Fairy up.”

  I stepped inside his closet and stared blindly at his clothes.

  They were right there in front of me, and yet, I didn’t have the energy to lift my arms and sort through them for the pair I knew were his favorite—white linen, cut off below the knees, with worn holes in the legs. A real shit pair of pajamas, but he loved them dearly.

  Caspian leaned over me and snagged a pair of blue pajama bottoms, his head of white hair flashing in my peripheral vision and then gone. Behind me, as he got dressed, he asked, “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “I can’t,” I whimpered, so very tired of the lies.

  He questioned evenly, “King Traevon?”

  I sighed and dropped my head forward, my chin on my chest. “That situation has nothing to do with this.”

  My cousin chuckled softly under his breath, still not pressuring me to turn around and look at him. “The headboard.”

  “Fuck you.” He was too smart.

  After a long moment, he asked with dark purpose, “How much trouble are you really in? Is it something I can help with?”

  “No,” I whispered in terrible acceptance, only responding to one of his questions. Assassinating King Athon would not help the situation. I raised my head back up and blinked at his neatly displayed clothes. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  Caspian pulled me back against his bare chest and enveloped me in his arms, placing his chin on top of my head. He faced us toward his room, which was thankfully now empty. With our bodies pressed close like dried mortar pasted us together, we walked to his bed and plopped down on top of the mattress, lying there haphazardly—and not giving a Fae shit.

  “Caspian? I’m sorry you got in trouble for lying for me.” It wasn’t a question of if he had. It’d most assuredly happened.

  “Our king wasn’t truly angry with me. He was simply worried. I only spent fifteen minutes in the dungeon while he questioned me. Although, he did say you weren’t allowed over here until he gave his approval.”

  “That sounds like our king.” I snorted and picked at the sheet below us, held warm inside his comforting embrace. “Caspian?”

  “Change your mind about me handling shit?”

  “No.” I shook my head at his bloodthirsty ways. “I just wanted to know if these sheets need to be changed.”

  “You are safe, Your Highness, from all bodily fluid
s.” My cousin laughed outright against the back of my head. “I met them at breakfast this morning. We were just getting started.”

  “That is a relief. I don’t think I could get back up anyway, and that’s very disgusting to think about sleeping on.” I allowed my eyes to close on those words. “And I would have.”

  He played with the sleeve of my new sweater. “Trix?”

  “What?” I mumbled, almost asleep.

  “Who gave you this?”

  “Nice try,” I slurred, my body shutting down. “I’m going to pass out all day and all night. Stay with me?”

  “For a while,” he assured. “Go to sleep.”

  “Oh…and if any Fae comes for me in my sleep, kill them.”

  Solemnly, he said his vow, “Always.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Annoyance of a king:

  Why must shopping be such a pain in the ass?

  There’s a reason why I have servants who do this for me—errands are not something I enjoy, nor do I have time for them.

  Alas, some purchases are too private for others to see.

  And when unwanted surprises occur during my secretive endeavors?

  It pisses me off even more.

  “YOU ARE REALLY cutting it close on this gift.” Bishop shook his head of obsidian hair, the ends of his locks brushing his shoulders. Instead of the ponytail he preferred wearing, our stylist had straightened his hair to perfection and only allowed him a sparse six gorilla teeth to wear in his mane, parting it down the center with the respectful accessories. He squinted into the sun, marking the time. “There are only a few hours until the party starts.”

  “I do not wish to go to this anniversary celebration at all. King Traevon’s love for his soul mate is nauseating to listen to—and it’ll be even worse tonight.” I scanned the hostile environment, even though my personal guards were stationed all throughout the Elf Kingdom’s capital city, Gatlin Grove, watching over our movements. The elven sentries in red that lined the strangely curvy, cobblestone streets were rather irritating, but they did keep the elves from approaching us. “Where is this Fae damned bookstore? I thought you said it was close to our inn. We’ve been walking the streets for a half hour.”

  “It’s two more turns, by my count.” Bishop shrugged his shoulders and glanced at me from the corner of his honey-brown eyes. He teased—with a perfected elf’s snooty inflection, “Are you afraid your attire will get dirty if we walk much longer? I must say, you look quite dashing in the black leather and fur.”

  I growled loudly, startling an elven mother and her daughter walking behind the guards. I bared my teeth at them before turning my glare on my actual target. “Fuck you, asshole. I cannot believe she thinks I should wear this damned thing.” I pulled at the black, short-furred vest that hugged my bare chest. “I hate this Fae shit, and she knows it.”

  “Just untie it. It won’t be as tight then. Appease the stylist and yourself.” Bishop waved his hands at the constrictive clothing. “You already ripped the top one. What’s a few more?”

  I grunted. That was advice I could live with.

  By the time we arrived at the bookstore, all the ties from my sleeveless vest littered the cobblestone street. I held up a hand, and I stated evenly, “I’m going in alone. Go explore for a few minutes.”

  “I can’t stand when you do this,” Bishop hissed. “How am I supposed to guard you if I’m shopping in the next store?”

  “Easy answer. You don’t guard me.” I smirked as his scowl increased. “No one here will be able to harm me. Go.”

  Bishop snarled and stomped in the direction of a sweets store—the gorilla shifter favored candy, even though he’d deny it to his last breath.

  I chuckled and opened the circular, wooden door to the bookstore, a small bell tinkling above, alerting the staff they had a customer. I ducked down and entered the establishment, pleased when I saw the second floor had been removed, and there were books all the way to the top of the building. I straightened to my full height, never understanding why the elves made their doors so small—some elves were six feet tall…like their damned king.

  “One moment!” A masculine, harried voice called from the back of the building. “I’ll be right out.”

  “Take your time,” I answered loudly, knowing my voice would bring the shopkeeper running—the “shifter accent.” “I’m in no hurry. It’s—”

  “I am here. What do you want?” The shopkeeper brushed off his hands, dust flying out around him. His elven, blue eyes looked up at me, and he stopped utterly in his tracks. He mumbled, “Oh shit.”

  I lifted one black eyebrow.

  Terror rounded his gaze as he swept down into a formal bow—it was horribly executed. His voice trembled as he spoke, “You honor me, Your Royal Highness.”

  I tapped the top of his head lightly. “You may rise.”

  The shopkeeper straightened and wrung his hands together. “What may I help you with today, Your Royal Highness?”

  “I am looking for two books. The first, one of your most beautiful portrait books of flora. And the second…a more risqué elven book. If you’ll show me to those sections, I’ll handle it from there.”

  His blue eyes blinked, the revolting white around his iris showing even more from his shock. “A risqué book?”

  “Yes, it is a prank gift; a beginner’s book to making love with an elf.” I cleared my throat, extremely proud with myself that I didn’t spit on the floor as I said those words aloud—or show tiger fangs and snarl like I wished. My black eyebrows furrowed low over my eyes, with a thought. “You do have those here, correct? Or is there a different store for something like that?”

  The shopkeeper calmed himself and managed an honest chuckle. “Oh, yes. We have those here, too. Let me show you the sections, and then I need to check on my troublesome assistant for a moment. But that won’t take long, Your Royal Highness.”

  I dipped my head in thanks and followed behind him. He indicated the different sections of rows where I’d find what I needed and finally left me in peace—taking that Fae damned elven enunciation with him, mercifully. I perused the shelves in the silence of the store, finding there were many books on breeding.

  I grabbed one from the shelf and opened it to a random page.

  I snapped it shut instantly.

  Am I really doing this?

  Do I really care to better myself on this subject…

  Why in the Fairy did this happen to me?

  My fall from grace was fucking humiliating.

  I snarled softly and opened the book again.

  I’d never been a bad lover. Never. I wasn’t going to be one now because I had the most scandalous and physically offensive soul mate the Fae could have cursed me with.

  I snapped my teeth in irritation, biting at the air. I continued to growl as I flipped through the pages sightlessly, willing myself not to tear this place apart. I stopped on one page and cocked my head, immediately calming from the confusion that boggled my mind, all because of a picture drawn inside, diagramming an elven cunt.

  This pussy did not look like my soul mate’s pussy.

  Not at all.

  This cunt was…odd.

  Was my soul mate deformed for an elf?

  Well, thank fuck for that.

  This was just foul.

  I turned the book sideways, wondering if I was looking at it wrong, my brows pulled tightly together. I rumbled in disbelief, “Who in the five kingdoms would want to fuck this?”

  The shopkeeper cleared his throat behind me.

  I almost dropped the book, jerking in place.

  “Your Royal Highness.” The shopkeeper choked on a laugh. “That is a book on horse breeding. The elven selection is three shelves up, away from the hands of youngsters.”

  “Ah. That explains a lot.” I closed the book carefully and placed it back on the shelf, keeping my back to him. It would be best to read the entire title first from now on. “Thank you. That is very helpful.”

/>   “You’re most welcome, Your Royal Highness. I’ll be at the front counter if you need further assistance.” The shopkeeper attempted to stifle his laughter, but my hearing was excellent.

  “That will do.” I waited until he was gone before I examined the correct shelf. I paid attention this time, my dark eyes evaluating the books’ spines. I removed one from the shelf and opened it. I sighed in relief at what I found on the pages, and I whispered, “There we go. That is a normal pussy.”

  I flipped through a few more pages.

  I nodded in appreciation. There was a wealth of information in just the first chapter, and there were thirty more yet to study. I’d found my elven lovemaking book.

  That wasn’t too painful.

  I sauntered two rows over to the flora section, zoning in on the portrait books, bending to view them better. It was a gift sure to please the elf king—a gift for his soul mate.

  The little bell chimed far away at the front door.

  I froze in place as a scent tickled my nose, my concentration lost.

  Jasmine.

  I inhaled heavily.

  And…ice. Intriguing. That was a new scent.

  It had been a week since I’d last seen my repulsive soul mate, a blissful seven days. Not once did that part of her that resided in my Fae-spark flare for any reason—the bitch had been joyful and relaxed all week, the few times I’d looked within.

  But now, she was here.

  And it was Fae damned time Princess Trixie started caring about her welfare. Or perhaps King Traevon had pushed this guard on her person after her disappearance. Either way, I was satisfied with the change, whatever it took to keep my bothersome soul mate alive.

  I straightened from my stoop and glanced at the book in my hands—not a book to be seen holding with an elven sentry nearby. I lifted the tome to hide it on the shelves, except I halted in place as an elven, masculine voice barked, “Trix, hurry your ass up. We are going to be late.”

  “Calm down. My appointment with the stylist isn’t for another hour.” Her voice gradually journeyed closer. “I want to get Mother something. Everyone will be bringing our king gifts tonight. She’ll be left out of her own anniversary.”