Crypts and Crimes (Trixie Towers Book 3)

by Scarlett Dawn

  The entrance was getting too full for my liking anyway. I tapped the top of his head with the bottom of my flute. “You may rise.”

  The elf straightened. A small spark of terror flittered in his eyes before he could hide it. Perhaps he wasn’t utterly foolish. His voice was unruffled, though, as he stated easily, “Follow me, Your Royal Highness.”

  Bishop and I trailed behind him, weaving between elves who sputtered and jumped out of our way when they detected us.

  With my wine flute dangling down by my side, I chuckled maliciously, lifting one eyebrow at a woman who appeared close to fainting. “So fucking easy.”

  “They may look like prey right now, but don’t kill any of them tonight,” Bishop warned gently.

  The guard’s shoulders tensed in front of us, but he didn’t comment as he led us down a maze of hallways.

  I rolled my eyes at his antics, taking small tastes of my wine occasionally. I swallowed down the succulent alcohol sip by sip, and, finally, when enough was enough with this unneeded frolic—and my drink was running low—I mumbled dryly, “You do realize I’ve been here many times? If you wanted to confuse me about where we’re going, you have failed. You’re only trying my patience. Take a left here and head straight. Do not deviate from that path, or we will leave you behind.”

  His shoulders straightened at my threat.

  But, thank fuck, he did as ordered.

  I replaced my glass with another when we passed under the rounded entrance to King Traevon’s majestic ballroom. I stopped just inside the large space and scanned the unfriendly environment. We had taken so long to arrive that the room was already teeming with elves in their finery. I peered over their heads easily, taking note of King Elon on the far right side of the room, near a large back entrance door—where King Traevon and his soul mate were sure to enter. He was the only royal here so far. The rest, apparently, still being led on a merry jaunt through hallways.

  I snorted and walked straight through the elves who stood in my way. My path quickly cleared when they noticed who was near them, although there were a few elves already in attendance who didn’t move as quickly as I liked. Those elves took their time to study my physique, hard intelligence lining their eyes, the elves who weren’t afraid to brawl. There would be more of them as the night wore on; the elf king surrounded himself with the strongest men and women of his kingdom, not just prominent merchants and his family’s friends.

  I stepped beside King Elon while Bishop took up a position behind me, next to the gorgon king’s personal guard, their backs to the wall. I leaned in the King of Gorgons’ direction, keeping my eyes on the elven mass. I growled softly, “You do know what ‘unity’ means, don’t you? I thought King Traevon was pretty clear on that.”

  King Elon rolled the stem of his wine flute between his fingers, studying the dark liquid within. “I have no idea what you are referring to.”

  “What did you try to smuggle in?” I asked bluntly.

  The King of Gorgons sighed heavily and swallowed down a strong gulp of his wine. “The guards took issue with my present.”

  I turned my head to stare at his profile. I waited.

  “Apparently, the rare and expensive perfume I purchased for King Traevon’s soul mate occasionally has adverse effects on an elf.” His lips curved up at the edges, watching the elves titter and blush while they dallied with one another. “Imagine my surprise when they informed me of that. I hadn’t the foggiest that could occur.”

  I slowly returned my attention to the crowd, finishing off my glass of wine and tossing the empty flute casually to a server—he caught it with one hand and went on his way.

  I stated evenly, “That wasn’t wise of you.”

  “He would still be alive.” King Elon twirled his glass again between his fingers. “That is all we need.”

  “We need him coherent.” I stretched my neck back and forth, the three drinks finally loosening up my muscles. “Don’t be a Fae damned idiot. Not right now.”

  “Fuck off,” he hissed, his voice slithering fiercely. “It wasn’t your brother he killed.”

  “No, it was my father.”

  “Good riddance there.”

  I grunted in agreement. “The same could be said for your appalling brother.”

  King Elon hissed, casting a heated glare right at the side of my face. “Holy Fae above and below, I hate these events.” He finished off his drink and snapped his fingers at a servant, exchanging his flute for a new one.

  I waited a moment, and then I stated calmly, “Don’t pull that shit again.”

  “I knew it wouldn’t work.” Then King Elon murmured wistfully, “But if it had, it would have been splendid. A man can dream of the day this elf king is dead.”

  I snickered in good humor, entirely entertained with the angered attention the gorgon king and I were receiving. “How many glasses of wine have you had?”

  “Not nearly enough.” King Elon flicked his gaze to the sentinels in red who were stationed only a few feet away, staring daggers at us. He winked a reptilian eye at them and smiled wide—showing all of his white teeth. “If you want to have a staring contest, elves, I’m more than willing to oblige.”

  Every sentry instantly stared at his chin instead of his eyes.

  My laughter boomed loud and clear. “I guess they don’t like being stone hard.”

  “Pity for their partners,” King Elon muttered wryly.

  “Mayhap elves don’t even know what stone hard is. They look fairly scandalized, so they’ve probably never heard of anything being hammered up their ass before. Perhaps you should show them? I have heard you favor a certain guard in your kingdom.” I snapped my fingers, pretending as if I didn’t know who it was—but the danger in my voice was not subtle. “What was his name again? It is on the tip of my tongue. Raoul? Yes, I believe that is it.”

  The gorgon king choked on his drink and pounded on his chest, spewing. “Now, I believe you are trying to kill me…and leave him out of this.”

  With a straight face, I purred, “I’m sure the Fae wouldn’t mind.” Death this way comes…

  King Elon snorted hard. “You are trying to get me killed.”

  I smirked cruelly, stating slowly, “Only if you pull bullshit again like you did tonight. I am a patient predator. I can wait for the right moment to kill. This is not the time for games, as you well know.”

  The gorgon king’s hostile eyes met mine.

  I cocked my head subtly, leniently giving him a moment.

  “Fine,” he snipped.

  I nodded once. Issue resolved—for now.

  The two queens were arriving, anyway.

  Queen Alora flicked her hand at a servant, shooing them away, and marched straight toward us through the crowd, her personal guard barely keeping up behind her. Her light blue dress, of what appeared to be caster-spelled seafoam, fluttered around her body like waves in the ocean from her perturbed gait.

  She halted next to us, her personal guard taking position next to ours. The merfolk queen grouched, “Good Fae. That was utterly ridiculous.”

  I rubbed at my ear that was closest to her.

  It would be best not to talk about royal secrets now, so as not to permit everyone in the ballroom to hear.

  Queen Mikko prowled through the room, the normally subdued, sweet queen irked as well when she stopped beside King Elon—her personal guard staying close by her. “I had to put a fucking spell on my guard to get him to stop wandering about.”

  Queen Alora scowled. “How many forays did you have through the art gallery?”

  “Three times.” Queen Mikko’s expression instantly lightened, altering with a thrilled smile, decidedly ruining the lethal look of her barbed dress. “Minnie’s artwork is truly remarkable. She is the best artist in all five kingdoms.”

  “I saw it seven times.” The Queen of Merfolk huffed. “Trust me. It got a little old after the fifth time.”

  I chuckled softly. “Why didn’t you stop the guard before t
hat?” I brushed my finger against the corner of my mouth. “You’ve got a little something right there.”

  Queen Alora hurriedly scrubbed her mouth, white, powdered sugar sprinkling into the air. She studiously brushed off her hands, snapping, “What? There were a few tasty treats along the way.”

  “Yes. I saw that.” I’d had a few, too.

  Another spike of anxiety flared inside my Fae-spark.

  Not mine. My Fae damned soul mate was still edgy.

  I barely restrained myself from rubbing my chest.

  The rulers and I quieted, nothing more to say to each other.

  We observed the filling room, our people now arriving on the outer edges. The light from the flame-decorated chandeliers bounced off of the wooden planks of the domed ceiling, casting a golden glow on everyone in attendance. The balcony that circled above swarmed with prattling elves, some leaning over the railing to watch the events below them with excitement. The musicians sat on their chairs, silent for now, in the adjacent corner to where King Traevon’s throne sat upon a stage—a smaller, less regal chair next to it for his soul mate and an equally small but just as lavish royal throne for his heir. Harried servants bustled about the room as drinks were served to the invited while every available space against the wall was lined with sentries in red.

  The party was in full swing.

  The three rulers and I perked up at the commotion nearby.

  King Traevon’s voice was muffled behind the door that we stood in front of. “Where in the Fairy is Trixie?”

  “She is coming. My prodigy had her hands full with her,” Minnie stated almost too quietly to hear through the thick wood. “And…”

  “What?” King Traevon asked, ample trepidation coating his tone. “What has she done this time? This is her first official appearance in our kingdom. She knows better than to—”

  “She hasn’t run away. Calm yourself. She should be here at any moment. But she asked for a more…feminine…dress than the one you picked for her. You should prepare yourself.”

  No response came from the elf king.

  “She looks very beautiful. You must tell her that. She is a grown woman now, and she is proud of it.”

  Still, no remark made.

  “Traevon…” Minnie warned quietly. “She is bloody nervous about meeting her kingdom. Do not say anything that will make her fear worse.”

  Dry, dry words. “She is clothed, right?”

  My eyebrows shot up high on my forehead.

  She had better damned well be clothed…

  I narrowed my gaze at the elves standing within close proximity.

  Fuck. Why hadn’t I realized this before?

  They were here for her, not just their king.

  King Elon rolled his eyes and sighed, drinking heavily from his glass. He whispered under his breath, “Fae help me when I eventually have children.”

  Queen Mikko nodded in agreement.

  Queen Alora patted at her multi-hued hair, bored.

  “Of course, she is clothed,” Minnie stated…hesitantly.

  “Fucking Fairy. How bad is it?”

  “Her outfit is refined. And stunning. We made a beautiful child together, my love,” Minnie reassured. “Here she comes now.”

  “Oh my… Fuck, is that a scarf?” King Traevon rumbled in harsh—quiet—words. “Tell her to change. Now.”

  “Not a chance. Comport yourself,” Minnie whispered. Then she spoke louder, pride evident in her every word. “You look beautiful, my Trixie. Are you ready?”

  “I think so,” Princess Trixie stated softly—genuine unease shaking her voice. “Father…do you think I look okay?”

  I had never heard her as such, my spine unconsciously straightening at the tone. And I wasn’t the only one. All the rulers surrounding me reacted to it, a young voice in need of defending, everyone stiffening. One by one, we scowled at the door the longer King Traevon waited to reassure his child—our protective, royal nature couldn’t be concealed.

  Princess Trixie may have reached her majority.

  But only just.

  Her king had much to teach her still.

  Fae, why was she so damned young?

  Everything about her was a problem.

  “You look beautiful,” King Traevon hushed gently. “That dress is much better than the one I picked.”

  “Truly?” Hope entered her voice.

  “Absolutely. Your mother’s prodigy did a splendid job. I’ll need to give her extra coin on payday,” King Traevon lied through his teeth. “Now, chin up. It’s time to meet your kingdom.”

  I flinched at the pulse of distress inside my Fae-spark radiating from the elven princess, the emotion so strong it took me by surprise. I ground my teeth together and kept my hands away from my chest.

  Princess Trixie stated on a large exhale, “I am ready.”

  Like Fairy she was. The elf was a damned mess.

  The door opened behind us, and we stepped aside.

  My eyes rounded on my face—and I promptly wiped away all expression from my features. Oh, fuck no. King Traevon needed to take his brat by the arm and haul her ass out of here.

  Mayhap… Right. Fucking. Now.

  A snarl formed in my throat. It burned as I shoved it down.

  How did I think Princess Trixie was young before?

  The reason currently eluded me.

  This elf did not look young…

  I blinked repeatedly. Where was the rest of that outfit?

  Truly?

  Her tits were wrapped in a red material that crossed over her neck, seizing and covering each tit separately, and showcasing them as a bounty served to all. It was a scarf. It had to be. And her skirt? Could I even call it that? The matching red material was so thin you could view the outline of her hips. The fucking slits up each leg revealed her porcelain skin all the way up to her thighs.

  My attention snagged on the pointed tips of her ears. Those were adorned with golden jewelry that matched her intricate necklace. Her ears were the only part of her body that was protected from touch—they had better stay that way, too.

  I may not appreciate the view, but others fucking would.

  Mine.

  My upper lip lifted on its own accord while the herald announced their arrival, all eyes turning in their direction.

  I flared my nostrils, hot fury building inside my chest. I sent a scathing look at King Traevon, unable to stop myself. This asshole had just made my night that much worse. Fuck making her feel better; he should have gone with his gut and made her change her attire.

  The King of Elves’ emerald eyes caught on my heated gaze as he surveyed the room. A red brow slowly rose high on his forehead in silent question. He paused their march in front of me—apparently my scowl was dark enough to cause alarm.

  Bad father.

  Bad. Fucking. Father.

  I snarled softly, needing to get control of myself before I carted the princess out of this room. “It is nothing to concern yourself over, King Traevon. I am merely grumpish from hunger.”

  Minnie’s eyebrows creased. “Your Royal Highness, there is plenty to eat here. There are even favorite dishes from the Shifter Kingdom.”

  I dipped my head to her. “Of course. Thank you.”

  When they moved again, I allowed myself to breathe.

  Princess Trixie’s emerald, elven gaze flicked up at my face. Her chin was held high in the air, not one ounce of the anxiety riddling her mind showing. Those keen eyes scanned my features before she turned her regard back toward her people—the many fucking people who were ogling her with extreme interest. She was an amazing performer, this elf, her breathing tranquil, and her hands still, not one tremor to be seen in her demeanor.

  And she needed an extra-large cape over her tiny body.

  With steel locks as fasteners. And I with the only key.

  My black eyes pinned the elven males nearby who were blatantly staring at her tits. One almost fell over as he leaned to glimpse her ass. This was a c
arriage wreck waiting to happen, their eyes gleaming with carnal awareness.

  I grunted and rolled my shoulders under my black fur vest, wanting to remove the restrictive clothing and stretch out my muscles. I flexed my fingers, my claws begging to release.

  I breathed evenly through my nose.

  Princess Trixie wasn’t admiring her admirers.

  I could use this as a cultural experience, figure out what these elves seemed to like so much about her body—other than the fact they thought she was single. I needed to look at this with new eyes. If I could be half as attracted to her as these elves seemed to be, I’d be a much happier man—and king.

  As the sentinels in red tolerantly ushered the three other rulers and me to the line for properly greeting the elf king—and family—I trained my attention on the elves lusting after my Fae damned soul mate—and there were many. I kept a cool head, mostly due to Princess Trixie’s complete obliviousness, or her remarkable acting ability at being utterly ignorant to their advances—again, there were many.

  Her tits were the main attraction—from what I could identify.

  Next were her legs and rear—before she sat upon her chair.

  The elf’s hips weren’t ignored, either.

  A few oddballs ogled her wee toes in her elegant sandals.

  But all ended up staring at her face and didn’t look away, as if it were love at first sight, their dopey eyes softening on their princess.

  I snorted at one besotted fool.

  The man literally had a spot of drool on the corner of his mouth, his frame wavering back and forth on his trembling legs as if he were under a caster’s spell.

  I stood in line and started evaluating my own thoughts, scanning for the closest to a shifter body I could find close by, all my own people out of view from this vantage point. My eventual target was much shorter than a shifter, but she would have to do for now.

  I zoned in on Minnie’s waist. Her hips curved.

  My eyes skipped to that of her offspring.

  Curved but with smaller proportions.

  Back to Minnie. Her legs were shapely.

  Princess Trixie’s were smaller, but with the same shape.

  I rubbed at my chin while evaluating those differences. All-in-all, she was a lot thinner than her mother. Much too small to grab ahold of in physical hunger—fragile would be a good word for her body, whereas I normally enjoyed robust. If I didn’t already know for a fact that she could handle my sensual appetite—and somehow fucking enjoyed it—I never would have believed it by how small she was.