Father’s voice shook as he growled, “My daughter did as she was asked. Keep your comments to your Fae fucking self, King Elon, before I burn off all those pretty braids of yours.”
“Try me, murderer. Then I’d be able to kill you freely.”
King Athon growled. “Enough! Both of you.”
“It will be all right, Queen Mikko,” Queen Alora attempted to whisper—it was a quiet screech. “Mayhap it is not as bad as it sounds.”
I lifted my left hand and began massaging the back of my neck again, stress and guilt eating at my stomach.
“Fae help us all,” King Traevon muttered crossly. “Louie, is there anything else? You have not stopped looking at that page.”
My head lifted at that. I glared hard at the gremlin.
There had better be nothing else I needed to “help” with.
Black Louie stated without emotion, “If you retrieve the artifact, everyone must touch it to return safely.” He lowered the book from his face, closed it, and looked at Father. “I would have finished this important bit of information earlier, but no one was listening, King Traevon.”
My blink was slow.
Had Black Louie jested?
I cocked my head, everyone staring at him oddly.
There was no way for him to make fun.
His obliviousness was simply…comical…today.
“It is time for us to leave,” Black Louie stated emotionlessly. He tucked the ancient tome under his right arm and walked without blinking to the door, opening it calmly. “Oh, yes. Congratulations on your soul-mated anniversary, King Traevon.”
Red Louie, Gold Louie, and Blue Louie stood from their resting places and followed after Black Louie at a slower pace.
“Thank you, Louie,” Father stated—mostly civilly. “Perhaps next time you can check with Louie if I may be indisposed?”
Red Louie grinned. “He did.” Then he slipped outside.
The two others scurried after him.
Black Louie blinked. “Louie said you would be so eager for tonight that you’d be red in anticipation.” He nodded his head. “He was correct. Enjoy the rest of your climactic evening, King Traevon.” The gremlin turned and left without shutting the door behind him.
My chin trembled in barely restrained humor.
King Traevon simmered, heatwaves flowing off his body. “Are we positive that motherfucker doesn’t have the capability for emotion?”
The King of Shifters chuckled wickedly. “I did tell him last time that he needed to work on his words. Mayhap he is trying.”
“Grand time for him to do so.” Father stood from his chair swiftly, fidgeting with his caster-spelled ring. “If you will excuse me, I will take my leave. Queen Mikko, once you’re done with your investigation of your sister, send a messenger for where we should meet before the eclipse.”
The caster queen nodded, her expression pinched—even though she tried to hide it. “Of course. I already have an idea of where to start, an area that she often frequents on the outskirts of Wickley Marsh.”
I cringed. This did not look favorable for her.
Prostitution at her capital city’s back door.
Father lifted one red brow. “It looks like you need to keep a better eye on your kingdom, Queen Mikko.”
Her brown mist eyes flayed him. “I said that’s where I will start. I did not say that is where my investigation will end. Do not jump to conclusions, King Traevon. There is no wrongdoing in the public eye of the Caster Kingdom. I assure you of that. Wherever this den of debauchery is, it is hidden.”
“By spell then.” King Traevon nodded in agreement and strolled toward the door. “Good luck to you, Queen Mikko. You will need it.”
CHAPTER NINE
Confession of a princess:
When one lives in a place full of bygone memories, it is not always in the best interest of that person. Even if they are loving memories. For when someone passes, we are left alone with only our thoughts of them. To have a ghost as your best friend is a dangerous time indeed.
I now strive not to disappear into the past when I have a future, for this realm is for the living, not the dead.
I am strong. I am a survivor.
As is everyone who is still here.
MY CASTLE WAS so quiet.
I held a stolen gift in my hand and walked over the tiling to the staircase, my sandaled footsteps echoing in the terrible stillness. I climbed the stairs, the loneliness suffocating. No servants bustled nearby on my deserted trek, all still at Father’s castle helping with the clean-up—and soon would be ready for their own beds. I walked down the fourth-floor hallway, vibrant paintings of flora hanging on the walls, all by the talented hand of Mother. But the color of gray began to creep in on the sides of my vision, a hue of terrible feelings I knew bloody well from my days in Sugar Cove.
“I miss you,” I whispered as I passed Grandmother Isabella’s room, running my free hand over the wood of her closed door. I ambled to my bedchamber and stood in the doorway for far too long, blindly peering inside. I blinked my dry eyes and shook my head hard, whispering, “I am strong. I am a survivor. I am strong. I am a survivor. I am strong. I am a survivor.”
“I haven’t heard you say that since our earliest days in exile,” Caspian murmured gently.
I jerked my head to the right, my eyes widening in shock. “What in the Fairy, Cas!”
He quirked his lips up in a soft smile. “Our king ordered me to guard you all night, up until you entered your room for bed.” His dark blue eyes flicked down at my feet, where they straddled the hallway and my bedchamber. “You haven’t quite made it there.”
My nostrils flared. “I am fine. You may go.”
He tipped his head to the side, his tone quiet. “You don’t look fine, Trix.”
I sighed heavily and pulled my hair back from my face in frustration. “It is just being in this castle again. The work I did to heal from Grandmother Isabella’s death is cracking while I’m here. There are too many memories everywhere I turn.”
“Is it as bad as before?” Caspian asked bluntly.
“No, I am not that sad,” I whispered. I shuddered at the thought of the horrible grief I’d battled in the first few months in Sugar Cove. I never wanted to experience that again. “Although, if I ever lose one of my parents, you will need to knock me unconscious for the next year.”
He murmured patiently, “No one ever wants to experience the despair of a loved one’s passing, but we move forward from it. Just as you did before, and as you will one day do again. As you said, you are strong, and you are a survivor.”
My nose scrunched. “Not anytime soon, I hope.”
“Nowhere near anytime soon.” Caspian smiled. “Is that what you are anxious about? Your mother or your father dying?”
I subtly shrugged my right shoulder. “It has crossed my mind recently. Father and I have been in a few…precarious situations since I’ve returned.”
“Hmm.” My cousin shook his head affectionately. “King Traevon isn’t going anywhere, Trix. But I do think you need to forgive him.”
“For what?” I lifted my chin high into the air. “For my father being absent so much in my youth?”
Caspian stared pointedly. “For being our king.”
I sniffed and turned my face back to my bedchamber. “I suppose I will be a horrible mother, too, one day.”
He cocked his head farther, trying to meet my eyes. My cousin stated extremely slowly—and carefully, “I don’t believe you will ever have that issue, Trix.”
“You never know,” I stated absently, my gaze dipping to the book in my hand. I rubbed my thumb over the soft brown leather.
Caspian straightened where he stood. “Is there something I’m missing?” His dark blue eyes flew down to my stomach, his brows creasing in confusion. “Has a Fae damned miracle occurred?”
I snorted through a laugh. “Fairy no. Not right now.”
His muddled gaze lifted to mine. “Not right now?”<
br />
“There’s a possibility that it eventually could. Though, I will say nothing else on that until I research more.” My amusement died off bit by bit, my eyes beginning to search his—his expression one of shock, suitable for what I’d just announced. I shored up my bravery and brutally swallowed down my choking fear. I asked quietly, “Cas, would I be a good mother? Even if I am to be the ruler of our people.”
Caspian blinked, swiftly following along. “Just as our king is an amazing father—and loves you dearly—you would be a splendid mother. You were raised right, Trix, and you have a kind heart.”
I looked back into my room. “This is silly, right? I am far too young to worry about such things.”
“Has…” My cousin cleared his throat hard, stumbling on his words. “Has King Athon talked about children with you?”
“Yes. My beastly soul mate wants a child. And not just for his kingdom, even if he pretends that’s the reason.” I snorted. “He very much wants to be a father.”
Caspian inquired casually, “And you?”
I rubbed my lips together, not commenting.
He shook his head gently. “You need to forgive your father, Trix. Then, perhaps, you can forgive yourself for being the heir.”
I sighed and stepped inside my room, glancing back over my shoulder. “Now, you may leave.”
My cousin’s smile was sad. “Try to do what I said.”
I kicked the door shut on his face. “Goodnight, my friend.”
Caspian sighed heavily. “Goodnight to you as well, my stubborn cousin.”
I rolled my head on my shoulders and strolled further into my room, dropping King Athon’s sex book on my bed. My head cocked in thought, debating if I should underline some of the passages in it for him. I supposed it wouldn’t hurt. I could add notes, too, if anything came to mind.
I searched my writing table for my favorite pencil, tossing a few papers onto the floor the longer I rifled for it. My eyebrows puckered in frustration when it was nowhere to be found. I lifted the hem of my skirt and dropped to my knees, looking underneath the wooden table. I squinted through the darkness, muttering, “Where in the Fae fuck did you go?”
I shoved my hand underneath, wiggling my fingers on the plush carpet, hunting blindly for it. My grin was instant as I touched it far in the corner, pulling it out. I stared at the pencil, my smile slowly falling away. I muttered, “How…did you get back there?”
The room was silent as I carefully stood to my almost five feet of height. I cast my wary gaze around my bedchamber, my shoulders tensing the more I noticed.
My pillow was turned the wrong way.
The flowers imported from the Caster Kingdom tilted.
One of my baubles on my shelf wasn’t in line.
I bared my fangs and tossed my pencil on my writing table, turning swiftly and marching straight out of my bedchamber. My eyes turned to fire as I halted in front of Grandmother Isabella’s door, my hands trembling with fury. The door opened easily for me, swinging soundlessly.
My flaming gaze immediately went to the floor.
Grandmother Isabella loved hardwood—no carpet for her.
Undisturbed dust covered the ground in a smooth sheet.
Nevertheless, I crept around the edge of her bedchamber, only using my tiptoes, barely making a mark on the dust. At the back of her room, I lifted one of the sheets covering her furniture, careful not to disturb the dust atop it. I peeked underneath, a large exhale of relief flying past my lips—my hidden items were still there.
My eyes rapidly turned back to normal emerald green.
I exited her bedchamber, closing the door behind me. I lowered my head as I began to walk back to my bedchamber. Someone had been in my room going through my things, that much was clear. It couldn’t have been King Athon. He would not have been sloppy enough for me to notice.
Perhaps the Fae had finally come in search of me.
I stopped abruptly at an open window, my attention honing in on the ledge. This was the fourth floor, with only rock to climb up. I leaned closer and inspected the drop outside…but I stopped as a piece of material fluttered in the breeze on the outside ledge’s corner.
I ripped it from the wood and held it in front of my eyes.
Orange.
Fire burned in my gut, stirring rapidly in my veins.
That Fae damned piece of horse shit…
King Athon had sent his guards to do his dirty work.
I dropped the piece of uniform onto the ground and smirked to myself. Two doors down hid what they desired, and, yet, a layer of dust had fooled them. I sauntered back into my bedchamber with more bounce to my steps.
I went right to my closet. I grabbed bags from the back of the chamber and started stuffing items inside. When one bag was filled, I moved out to my proper bedchamber. I picked out odds and ends that I enjoyed, and carefully placed them into the bags before moving on to my bathroom, doing the same here.
With three bags almost full, I tossed them onto my bed, scanning my room once more. The carpet was soft under my tapping foot while I placed my hands on my hips, evaluating everything within view.
The bookshelf caught my attention.
I lifted a frame from a shelf, studying the woodwork. It was from the Shifter Kingdom, the engravings of a mountain delicate and exquisite, each tree and rock carved with excellent care. I gauged the size of the frame, nodding slowly.
This felt…right…to take with me. Not just to irk.
I removed the portrait inside the frame, and snatched one of my scarves in my closet, hurriedly tying it around the wood. I grabbed a sheet of paper and my favorite pencil, quickly jotting down a note and stuffing it into the scarf. The frame went into my bag, along with the brown leather book.
All I had left to do was change my attire.
I was heading to the Shifter Kingdom.
After all, I did have an open invitation.
CHAPTER TEN
Confession of a king:
I did not expect my Fae damned soul mate to react as she had. I thought I would see fire flying at my head, but, instead, I saw fire within her soul. My father may have held my hands in flames every day for a year, but that training did not prepare me for a furious elf’s silence.
I would have preferred my head set ablaze than the quiet.
MY JAW CRACKED as I yawned wide, nodding my head distractedly to the two silent sentries in black that guarded my private study. The late-night flight home on Axel had almost lulled me to sleep. I was more than ready to rest my head upon my pillow, my sweet bed only steps away. I pushed through the door and tiredly shut it behind me.
I halted in place, my nose lifting into the air.
My nostrils flared as I inhaled heavily.
Jasmine.
The air contained one more scent.
A Fae-gift.
I jerked my attention to the left. I stared in disbelief and quickly reached back and locked my study’s door.
Penelope’s ass end, much smaller than King Traevon’s Fae-gift, was sticking out from behind my large desk, her black and red tail lying docilely on the stone floor—the rest of her unseen behind the piece of furniture.
My steps were unheard as I prowled to my desk, curving around the edge to gaze incredulously at the Fae-gift. She was sleeping on my Fae damned floor. The skin on my forehead wrinkled while I stood in place, trying to understand what was happening here. I was too tired for this shit right now.
I cleared my throat hard. “Penelope, what do you think you’re doing here?”
Fiery red eyes peeked open. Her teeth bared the smallest bit in annoyance for being woken. She…still did not move, though.
Penelope was much like her owner.
I nodded down at her hindquarters. “If you’re trying to hide, you’re doing a piss poor job of it. Your ass is hanging out.”
The Fae-gift raised her heavy head and crooked her neck to peer down at her body. She huffed quietly at the view, and, somehow, silently, scooted
on the floor, hiding herself further.
I stared. “Your tail.”
It instantly swished over her leg, now concealed.
I used the palm of my hand to rub my face, chafing the skin roughly to wake up. I pulled the writing pad out of my travel bag and hastily shoved it inside a drawer. I growled, “Did your owner tell you to stay here, or is this your own marvelous idea to watch over her?”
Penelope bared her teeth—fully—her nose twitching.
“That is what I thought.” I peeled my lips back from my teeth, showing her my tiger fangs in a warning. “Next time, you should obey your owner.”
I turned on my heel and trooped to the caster-spelled entrance of my bedchamber, unsure of what lay ahead—what I would have to deal with now. I had grudgingly invited her. But I sure as Fairy hadn’t expected her to accept.
My steps were silent as I climbed up the masked stairs and entered my bedchamber. The space was silent, except for a hawk squawking in its flight outside my open balcony, only a few lights on inside my room. But…my bedchamber had changed a lot.
For one, an elf slept soundly on top of my bed, lying on the blankets, not under them, her head of red hair resting on my favorite pillow. A brown leather book I knew well lay open on her chest, lightly rising and falling with every breath she took as she clutched a pencil tightly even in her slumber. She only wore a black sweater that was far too large for her, the porcelain skin of her bare legs bright against the dark color of my covers.
As I eyed my former sweater, I quirked an eyebrow.
She had kept it. That was unexpected.
I’d thought she would eventually burn it.
Carefully, I removed the strap of my traveling bag from over my head, setting my belongings down quietly so as not to disturb the elf. I walked to the side of the mattress where she slept and then placed the old wooden stool down on the floor next to my bed. I silently removed my book from her sleeping form, and delicately pried the pencil from her grasp.
I peered down at the open pages, blinking in amusement.
My illegal soul mate had jotted down notes, and underlined specific passages in my sex book, seemingly, to aid our intimacies, none of her written words spiteful—each note explaining the ‘why’ of it, as a teacher would do.
Crypts and Crimes (Trixie Towers Book 3) Page 14