A second later, Bishop moved.
He sucked in a large lungful of air, his arms slowly moving behind his back, standing at attention. His jaw hardened, and his eyes cleared of all expression. The gorilla shifter questioned cautiously, “Are you positive she hasn’t placed you under a caster’s spell?”
I snorted under my breath. “Fuck you.”
“No, it is not a spell.” Solid black eyes never looked away from his dear friend. “And shut up, elf,” King Athon rumbled sharply. “He has been a second away from tearing into you again since I released him.”
“I will kill him.” A fire burned in my eyes as I stared hard at my attacker. “I may be prone right now, but my power works just fine.”
Bishop blinked. “What in the Fairy did she just mutter? I couldn’t understand any of that.”
“Neither could I, but I doubt it was anything good.” King Athon snaked through the surrounding chairs, toward a long couch, laying me down on the soft cushions. “She needs to sleep for a few minutes. Grab that blanket for me.”
Bishop didn’t move, his solid honey-brown eyes scowling.
“Now, Bishop,” the shifter king snarled. “You may hate this as much as we do, but it is our reality. She must stay alive.”
Bishop’s lips pulled back into a vicious snarl, but he swept across the room to grab the blanket. The soft, red material flew through the air as he hurled it hard in a fury in our direction. “This is a Fae damned disaster!”
The King of Shifters caught the blanket and tucked it around my shivering body snuggly, his power still flowing through my Fae-spark as he stated calmly, “I know.”
Bishop started pacing the room, his hands curled into fists. “You should have told me before now.” He sounded…hurt.
“I did what I had to, friend. I kept you safe.” King Athon squatted next to me, cautiously tapping down my left ear jewelry that had almost fallen off, studying his work to make sure it stayed in place. His solid black eyes lifted to mine. “Are you feeling any better?”
“I don’t know,” I slurred. “Mayhap a little?”
He opened his palm, cupping the side of my head, holding me lightly, while his eyes scowled in aggravation. He asked roughly, “How much longer, Princess?”
“Not too much,” I whispered, yawning wide. “I think.”
Bishop flicked a pointed finger back and forth between us. “You two look Fae damned cozy. Are you sure the bitch didn’t spell you?”
“No, Bishop. This is no damned spell.” The King of Shifters flicked an aggravated glare in his direction. “And this troublesome bitch is mine. Watch your words.”
“I hate him, too,” I mumbled. My eyes slid shut, not wanting to stay open any longer. “Keep your pet gorilla away from me while I rest.”
King Athon sighed. “You should watch your words, too.”
“Did… Did she call me your pet?” Bishop thundered.
“This is not the time,” King Athon growled, the sound of him sniffing the air heard. His hand quickly disappeared from my head, and his voice carried farther away, trailing far from my person. “King Elon is headed this way right now. Fuck.”
I rolled onto my side, toward the back of the couch, and covered my head with the blanket. I garbled, “Tell them I was drunk on shifter wine and passed out.”
After a moment, Bishop grumbled, “That could work.”
“I wasn’t speaking to you, asshole.” I sniffed. “I was talking to the other asshole.”
“Elf, shut the fuck up,” King Athon barked harshly, growling under his breath. “Bishop, you need to go. Hurry, and grab the dishes.”
I chuckled evilly, my aching body finally relaxing.
China began to clink. Surly, quiet curses flew.
I smiled woozily under the covers, enjoying myself immensely, envisioning the look of displeasure on Bishop’s face while he cleaned like a servant…almost falling asleep to that splendid imagery.
The door opened with a soft snick, and, after a pregnant pause, King Elon’s voice slithered inside the room—his reptilian tone incredulous, “Have you two murdered the heir to the Elf Kingdom? And are you trying to hide her body under a Fae damned blanket? Who in the Fairy taught you that? A blind man?”
Bishop snorted softly. “I wish.”
I yawned, letting my mind finally relax, too.
King Athon muttered with annoyance, “Princess Trixie is fine. She came in drunk and passed out.”
The King of Gorgons snorted. “I suppose the blanket is moving. She’s breathing under there, at least. I wonder what King Traevon will say about this particular stunt…”
Gratefully, sleep lulled me under in the next moment.
But the King of Gorgons’ voice gave me nightmares.
I hated fucking snakes—especially powerful ones.
* * *
A bony finger tapped the top of my head. “It is time to wake up, Princess Trixie.”
My red brows furrowed while I blinked my eyes open to a red material. I curled my fingers into the blanket at that voice, a tone so deep it was barely recognizable—but I did know it. I pulled the cover down from my head and sucked in a sharp breath, my entire frame tensing.
Owlish brown eyes met mine…only an inch away.
I fluttered my eyelashes, trying to wake up. “Louie?”
“It is I.” Blue Louie smirked, staring down on me. “This is not your death day. It is time to rise.”
Quite right. I had almost died. Almost.
“That is good to know.” I squirmed to the side, attempting to move out from underneath his overlarge green head. “Is everyone here?”
“They are,” Gold Louie chirped in his high, childlike voice, standing directly next to the couch—blocking me in. “Well, except King Traevon.”
“The red man will be arriving shortly.” Red Louie tipped his head back and laughed with gusto. He sat on the arm of the couch near my feet, swinging his spindly legs back and forth in the air in his hilarity. “And my, my. He truly is red.”
Black Louie stood next to him, staring at nothing.
“Oh my Fae,” Queen Alora muttered in her shrill tone. “He is always an ass when his soul mate is in heat.”
I cleared my throat loudly and maneuvered myself between four gremlins to stand up straight. I breathed a sigh of relief that my body didn’t fall over as all of my limbs seemed to be working as they should. I started folding the blanket while I stared daggers at the merfolk queen. “I beg your pardon, Your Royal Highness?”
Queen Alora smirked. The sparkles in her solid blue eyes danced in mirth. “I am sure that you know that I did not lie.”
“King Traevon handles the heat better than most.” I tossed the blanket on the couch behind me and lifted my chin into the air. “And I’m sure that you know that I did not lie, either.”
She quirked one eyebrow up, wordlessly mocking.
I raised both of my eyebrows. “Precisely so. You have nothing to say.” I strolled with decorum to a chair within their circle and sat down primly, folding my hands in my lap and crossing my ankles to tuck my feet back. “My apologies to you all for falling asleep while I recovered from too much wine. I may have overdone it a little during the festivity.”
All four Misfits followed at a slower pace, deciding to sit on the edge of the rounded table—the table absent of dishes—between all of us. I believed they were trying to look debonair with tiny, black cravats around their thin necks, apparently for tonight’s celebration, the items mismatched with their usual tattered attire.
Gold Louie pulled on his cravat, looking vastly annoyed.
“You are fast recovered,” King Elon hissed, his green eyes hard on mine, the red vertical slit narrowing.
“I’m made from fine stock.” I nodded once. I answered with truth. “And I have been known to recover fast while I lived in Sugar Cove.” My lips trembled slightly at a memory. “I enjoyed my…vacation…to the fullest.”
King Elon’s nose crinkled. “So you are a
boozer heir?”
“Not at all, Your Royal Highness. But I can handle my own well enough.”
“Hmm.” The King of Gorgons scowled, disgust coating his hard features.
I tapped my finger on my bottom lip. “Isn’t one of your brothers known for his scoundrel ways in the tavern? Or is he no more, the one who had the untimely death? I did hear tales all the way in Sugar Cove about one of them.”
The King of Shifters sat back on his chair and rested his booted foot on his opposite knee, drumming his fingers on his thigh.
Queen Mikko cast a disapproving glance in my direction.
The Queen of Merfolk yawned behind her fist.
King Elon’s shamrock green braids twitched. “That was my dear brother, who had passed away. I would appreciate you not speaking unfavorably about him.”
“Rightly so.” I smiled sweetly. “Apologies given.”
He snorted softly. “Just like your father.”
“Thank you, Your Royal Highness.” My smile grew.
The door flew open and banged shut.
King Traevon ran his fingers through his hair as he marched harshly to our circle. He had changed from his celebration attire, now wearing a simple pair of black linen trousers and a white, flowing tunic—and no shoes.
My king growled bitterly, “I am here. Let us get on with this.” He sat down roughly in the chair next to me and pointed a finger severely at the Misfits. “Now, Louie.”
Queen Alora grinned at me.
I snorted quietly. Father was well-behaved for a heat.
Black Louie stood with no emotion and lifted the ancient book. With his back to me, he started flipping through pages, stating in his monotone voice, “I must find the correct page.”
Gold Louie leaned to his brother, his brown eyes running up and down my father’s body. “You weren’t jesting, Louie. That is red.”
Mirth choked in Red Louie’s throat, trying not to laugh, an odd gurgling noise emitting from the tiny green gremlin.
Oh Fae.
I rubbed at the back of my neck…then threw out a hand, snatching back the fire that flew right at the two Louies. I cleared my throat and clenched my fist, snuffing out the blaze in front of me. I covertly flicked my gaze to the side and lifted a red brow at my father in silent reprimand.
King Traevon’s emerald eyes met mine. He bared his fangs at my chastising look, a quiet hiss slipping past his lips. He twirled his caster-spelled ring on his finger with his free hand—the ring that hid the fact he was as red as his power right now and ready to mate—unconsciously showing his distress.
Queen Alora’s lips twitched.
I lifted my chin, sniffing in her direction.
He was still well-behaved for a heat.
“I have found it,” Black Louie drudged. He raised the book to his face, smashing his long nose against the pages to see better. He drawled, “When the—”
“Excuse me a moment, Louie,” I rudely interrupted, leaning forward on my chair. I squinted at the page he was reading. “But…there is no writing on that page.”
Black Louie kept his face plastered to the book, not turning to speak. “There is, Princess Trixie.”
My eyebrows snapped together. “I do not see it.”
“You must look at it right,” he specified.
I sat back on my chair gradually, trepidation sinking into my bones. “You said a Fae gave that book to the Fates. Which Fae was it?”
“The same Fae who wrote it, as it states on the first page.” His nose wheezed from being bent as it was—and he didn’t care. “The Judge of Shadows.”
All five rulers tensed at that name.
Chills ran up my spine, a shiver wracking my frame.
The Judge of Shadows had the ability to write in shadows, only seen if viewed correctly. And the Judge of Shadows was all but a legend, a scary story we told our young about to keep them in bed at night. The greatest of the living Fae, a witch created by the original dark and light Fae rulers, to keep the peace between their people. If the Judge of Shadows was real and was involved in our realms’ quests…this truly was not good. The Judge of Shadows’ court members were even said to be mightier than the Fae rulers themselves, their trials of objectivity all-consuming.
Queen Mikko stared off to the side, her forehead wrinkled in thought. “The Fae have their own quests…”
King Elon’s eyes slammed to the Misfits, and his lips thinned brutally. “Is our realm on trial for crimes that we, the rulers, don’t even know about?”
“From what we’ve heard, it is not this realm that has committed the crime.” Red Louie smirked.
The brown mist of Queen Mikko’s eyes spun fast, her delicate, refined caster accent quiet. “How are we involved then? Explain, please.”
Red Louie shrugged a thin, green shoulder. “The Fae we came across recently were not helpful with any other information.”
King Athon licked over his top teeth in a sneer. “You aren’t being dishonest with us, are you, Louie?”
“Of course not.” Red Louie shrugged again.
My eyes narrowed on the gremlin. He was lying.
He added, “But if I were, it would be for the betterment of the realm. This is my home now, too.”
The King of Shifters growled softly. “We would rather know what we are facing.”
“That is too bad.” Red Louie winked at him. “You will know in due time, as fate allows it.”
King Athon flashed his tiger fangs at that final, condescending answer. “If it turns out you’ve withheld pertinent information that would help this realm, your Fae-made brother will not take that well. I hope you are choosing wisely, Louie.”
King Elon hissed, “Yes, I concur.”
“I would like to watch those proceedings if they occur.” Queen Alora glared, furious with the little information we had been given.
“Louie would stop me before it even happened. But I am humbled by your worry for me.” Red Louie…winked again.
I shuddered in my chair. Gross.
With his face still pressed against a page of the ancient tome, Black Louie stated, “I must read now.” His Fae-made brown eyes roamed the page, the dark Fae stating, “When the moon kisses the sun, you will begin your journey.”
King Traevon resituated himself on his chair, eager to be gone—and uncomfortable as Fairy. “The eclipse. It happens in ten days.” He waved his right hand for the gremlin to continue reading. He demanded brutally, “Faster, Louie.”
My shoulders relaxed—somewhat. I had ten days to study.
In the same tone and speed, Black Louie read aloud, “The third artifact will be found in the Caster Kingdom where the tree cries for revenge and the dark water runs red.” He flipped a page and pressed his face against it again, his large eyes scanning. He droned, “Beware the sex that avenges the rejected Fae, for only those who are bonded may enter the den of debauchery without death seducing their name.”
I nibbled on my bottom lip with my right fang, slowly turning my attention to the Queen of Casters—just as her enemies were doing, their expressions dark. As politely as I could manage, I asked, “Your Royal Highness, is prostitution occurring in your kingdom?”
It. Was. Fucking. Illegal. In all kingdoms.
This rule of our realm had been put in place more than three thousand years ago to stop the abuse taking place against those selling their bodies for coin.
Queen Mikko wore no expression, her gaze sluggish while blinking as if she were in shock. “I…”
The terrible silence extended as we waited.
King Athon growled. “Queen Mikko, do you or do you not, have men-for-hire and women-for-hire in the Caster Kingdom?”
Her dark brows creased on her petite face. She shook her head quickly, muttering in horror, “I did not think so. I’ve not even heard rumors of such.”
Queen Alora spouted, “That does not help us at all with this artifact. What about a crying tree or the red water? Think.”
The Queen of Ca
sters started rubbing her forehead. “No, we have no trees that cry or blood in our water.” Her brown mist eyes skipped in my direction. “Princess Trixie, you unwittingly knew where to find the artifacts in the last two quests. Do you have any thoughts on the third?”
I rubbed my lips together in thought, and peered down at my lap, trying to remember anything I had read or been told by my grandmother about the Caster Kingdom. There were so many essential phrases I knew that it was hard to dig through to the right one.
But there was something that stood out in my mind…
I tilted my head back and forth, wondering if this might be it—considering the woman I met tonight. If it were, the outcome would not be pleasant for the Queen of Casters. I sighed heavily, really not wanting to say this to the kindest person in this room.
Why must I be the bearer of bad news every time?
It simply was not fair. All I brought was gloom.
I peeked at Father, my brows furrowed.
King Traevon’s nostrils flared, the heat turning him inside out, but he stated in the gentlest of voices, “It is all right, my heir. You may speak freely without censure.”
I sighed again and returned to looking down at my skirt. I absently wondered if I would have to do this every time, hurting the rulers around me—when it wasn’t the time to do so. I pulled on my resolve, and I repeated a rhyme softly,
‘Where the power blows the leaves,
One limb is high; the other is low.
See the sisters from the same coin,
To stop the crying crow.
Run, run, from the head,
But circle, the tail is weak.
Blood drenches mighty hands,
When she looks for what she seeks.’
Queen Mikko sucked in an audible breath, nearly sounding like a sob before she went horribly silent.
King Elon muttered a harsh curse under his breath. “Princess Trixie, when it is time to go to the Gorgon Kingdom, I hope you fall unexplainably ill.”
I hung my head more, not entirely thinking he was wrong.
Crypts and Crimes (Trixie Towers Book 3) Page 13