by A. B. Keuser
The Argentelle palace was bigger than the one he’d come to think of as his home. The spires were taller, the stones that climbed them, somehow cleaner. Silvery panes of glass lined the front of the palace and glittered in the midday sun.
He dropped down from his horse and nearly fell to his knees as pain shot through him. The movement jarred the unyielding metal. He held tightly to Vilis’s saddle and clenched his teeth to keep from crying out at the pain. It would only get worse.
The knight that had captured him grabbed him by the arm, and for the first time, the woman’s face showed concern. “Are you injured?”
Smiling, he forced himself to laugh through the pain. “Only my pride.”
The Argentelle knight nodded and let go of his arm. “Can you make it into the palace on your own?”
Heinrich nodded and followed behind her.
The faster he made his apologies and asked for the freedom to search the Argentelle’s forests, the sooner he could find Max.
Each step reminded him that he had not yet slept and the metal dug deeper into his hips. Perhaps he could beg for a place to sleep until night. If the ruffian’s words were true, it would be easier to find Max in the night, when the enchantment temporarily ended.
The knight led him through the wide entry hall, its ceiling three stories overhead and flooded with light from the tall windows behind him.
He didn’t have time to survey the rest of the room surrounding him, his escort was immune to its charms. She led him through the halls at a brisk pace and for half a moment, he wondered if she was silently torturing him. He pushed it aside, reminding himself that she didn’t know about the metal banding his torso.
The room she opened for him was a long hall with a marble tiled floor, and what seemed to be an explosion of sparkling, silver tulle. A dozen maids ran about, waving the stuff at each other and talking in harried whispers, but the woman at the front of the room held his attention the moment she caught it.
Following the knight through the room, he couldn’t stop himself from staring, even when he stopped ten feet from her and his escort moved to whisper in her ear.
Her skin was as black as onyx, her hair flowed like spun silver, and her lips…. She was painfully beautiful. Her eyes flicked over him, the same black as her skin, but slicked over with a silver sheen. He watched her, wondering what the past two days would have been like if Ferrian’s king had fallen in love with a light fairy.
It was an exercise in futility. Miranichelle wanted nothing to do with an iron kingdom.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Syr Heinrich, of Ferrian.” He bowed, the movement stiff and painful. “I did not mean to trespass. I am looking for some…thing that was lost.” He did not want to drag inter-kingdom politics into this. It was already a mess of astronomic proportions.
“Of course…” she said, her words accompanied by an amused hum that frightened him more than he was willing to admit. “A knight would know better.”
“It was my intention to seek your audience and gain permission to search for the item. A band of thieves took a host of things, but the most important was… lost when their cart broke on the road near your border. It ended up in your forest, but I am not sure where.”
“And you would like permission to search for it.” She didn’t believe him. That much was clear in the tilt of her smile.
“If you are willing to grant it. I would also, kindly request the use of a bed for the day. It is an easier item to find at night. Something in the servant’s quarters would do.”
Studying him again, the fairy dragged a length of glittering tulle through her fingers, the fabric flashing silver as it crossed over her skin—or perhaps he was seeing things in his sleep deprived state.
“I will have Herr Krohnna find you a room. As for permission to roam my forest…. Ask me again when you wake. I may feel charitable tonight.” She turned to the knight who had found him. “Ivy, put him in a room that has thick curtains.”
Heinrich bit his tongue, the cold iron around his stomach reminding him not to anger her.
“As you wish,” Bowing, he turned and winced.
If his escort caught it, she said nothing.
When they were out in the hall again, he looked at the woman as she closed the doors behind them. “Which way to the servant’s quarters? At this point, I’d be happy in the stable with a thick enough pile of straw.”
She laughed. “My queen might hate yours, but she would never sentence another country’s knight to sleep outside. Your horse will be well taken care of, and I know the perfect room for you.”
This time she did not walk so quickly. Her steps were measured, her attention less focused on where she was going. He caught her glancing at him curiously twice.
“You are Prince Maximilian’s right hand.”
Since it wasn’t a question, he didn’t respond.
“I guess I thought you’d be… smaller. It’s amazing the stories you’ll hear.”
He’d heard a few of the random rumors that flew around the kingdom. “I probably don’t want to know.”
“No, you probably don’t. If you truly want to get the queen’s permission, there is one person who could possibly sway her opinion.”
Heinrich didn’t like the smile that came with that look. “Who is that?”
“Don’t worry. You’ll meet her soon.” Ivy stopped at a door, pushed it open and motioned for him to step inside. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
She closed the door behind him and he almost expected to hear the lock click. It did not.
He stood in the silence with his eyes closed for a full minute, trying to combat his exhaustion and frustration. Neither would be his allies here.
Taking a moment, he surveyed the room. Outfitted in deep blues with bright silver trim, the room was glaringly bright, but the bed’s canopy held thick curtains. His body yearned to fall into it and never get back out. Something nagged at the back of his mind, telling him it wasn’t time yet.
His hesitation paid off three minutes later. He was inspecting the far window and its view when the door opened and snapped shut before he had a chance to look its way.
The indignant shout that came with did not dissipate before he turned.
A woman, wrapped in a dress that nearly matched her skin tone slammed her fist against the door. The only indication she was not naked was the sapphire lace that crept upward from the hem, slowly spreading out like the fingers of a specter.
She pounded on the door, “Gods damn it, Ivy! I swear I will hurt you the next time I see you!”
She knocked her fists against the door again and let out a frustrated shriek.
Heinrich couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Were you caught trespassing, too?”
When she tensed, he realized she hadn’t known he was there. She turned to him too quickly and her silver eyes bored through him, her lips—the same lips as the queen—parted in a tiny gasp.
He couldn’t look away.
THREE
Silvia knocked her fists against the door a final time and let out a small scream of frustration. Ivy was going to pay for this. She didn’t know how yet—maybe a gallon of fish sauce in her bathtub, maybe a ferret in her wardrobe—one way or another, Silvia would get even.
The woman had pounced on them, grabbed her by the wrist saying there was an emergency—something only she could deal with—and told Mina to continue on on her own. But when pressed for the nature of the emergency Ivy had stayed silent.
Of course she had. There was no emergency, only her ridiculous plan to lock her in a guest room. The fact that the room was occupied by a man with gorgeous red hair, broad shoulders, and who filled out his trousers deliciously was a sign Ivy’s actions were at the request of her mother.
The fact that she’d noticed the man’s trousers in her first brief glimpse of him, told her something even more dangerous. She wanted him.
Glancing at him again, she said, “My mother
is trying to drive me insane.”
She turned back to the door and pressed her ear to the wood. Eyes closed, she listened. Ivy was gone.
Still annoyed, but a little relieved, she turned back to the man who stood ten feet from her, one brow raised as he appraised her.
“Forgive my rudeness, but the situation called for it. I’m Silvia.”
He nodded and said, “Heinrich.”
It was a Ferrian name, but she didn’t think it would be polite to point that out given the ever present hostilities. The possible origin of the man was even more curious. Her mother was getting desperate if she was pushing Ferrian men at her.
“Don’t tell me Herr Krohnna is your mother.”
Blinking, she followed their brief conversation backwards. “Oh, no. That honor falls on Miranichelle, queen and ruler of Argentelle.”
“I see.” His jaw tensed and judgement passed over his face before he managed to mold his expression into passivity.
“Please don’t misunderstand.” She said, trying not to read too heavily into that judgement. “I love my mother. She is wonderful and kind, but her meddling is terrible.”
His smile was soft and hinted at laughter. He looked dead on his feet.
“If her meddling results in your being shoved into a room with a strange man on a regular basis, I imagine so.”
“This is the first time she’s done this.” Silvia ran her hand along the stones of the far wall, her fingers searching, her eyes closed. “There you are.”
She pressed on a stone and it slid in and to the side. Reaching in until the whole of her arm disappeared; she pressed her lips together, concentrating. She knew it screwed her face into an odd frown, but she shouldn’t care about that. She did not need to impress this gorgeous Ferrian man. Relief struck her as she grasped hold of the lever, and smiled a moment before a click sounded. An overlarge painting snapped away from the wall, hanging like a door on unseen hinges.
Removing her hand, Silvia slid the rock back, patting it twice and then hurried to the painting, pressing it open wide enough that she could slip through.
The passage was cold and dark and she paused inside, watching him stand in the sudden, eerie silence.
He blinked into the dark surrounding her, as if looking through her and she shivered.
This had to stop. Leaning back out she said, “Are you coming?”
His gaze dropped to the low neckline of her dress and she swallowed and willed her heart to return to a steady rhythm.
He nodded, and when he finally moved, he was rigid. As if in pain. But he climbed through the passageway, joining her. A quick tug on the handle behind the painting and she plunged them into darkness.
“How are we supposed to find our way out?” he whispered.
Without a word, she took his hand, fingers trailing down his arm. He shivered against her, and so did she. Lust was not her usual reaction to the men her mother found for her.
She pushed out through another entrance, and held it open for him to climb out before closing it again. The man in this painting—the same as the one they’d entered the wall through—stared down at them with censure.
“Thank you.”
She glanced down the hallway warily and she waited for him to say something. He seemed content with silence.
Finally, annoyed she asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Beg pardon?” He asked, looking affronted.
“You’re clearly not one of our citizens, you look as though you’ve been dragged through a nettle patch all night, and my mother seems to want me to get to know you better. How did you get yourself into this mess?”
He studied her a moment before laughing and running a hand through his hair. “Something was stolen. I’m trying to retrieve it.”
Narrowing her eyes, she glanced from him, down the hallway that would lead her to her mother’s base of operations. “What did we steal?”
“You didn’t. It was taken by a Ferrian men. They managed to lose it… it is somewhere in your mother’s forest.”
“And it’s important enough that you’d be willing to risk punishment to retrieve it.”
His brows pinched together and he glanced at the floor. He swallowed in a moment of hesitation before saying, “It is the most valuable… thing in the world to me.”
Twisting a finger in the excess fabric of her skirt, she nodded. “Then I’ll make sure we get you out of here as soon as possible. I assume Ivy put you in that room to rest. You look like you’ve been up all night. Would you like someplace safe from pernicious knights and meddling mothers?”
He sagged visibly as though only now remembering he was tired. “Yes, please.”
“Come on, I’ll put you in the one room where I know you won’t be disturbed.” leading the way, she cut through the corridors at a decent clip, thankful Heinrich was able to keep up with her. The sooner she got him put away, the sooner she could find her mother and ask what she was thinking.
She pushed open one of the double doors and stepped inside ahead of him, sweeping her hand out toward the bed.
Heinrich stepped in cautiously, turned a slow circle and stopped, gaze landing on the dress her mother had picked out for Mina’s party. It hung on the far wall, glittering with spun silver lace.
“This is your room,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“Like I said, no one will bother you in here. You’re welcome to lock the doors. I’ll send a servant around to wake you before dinner.”
“I don’t want to put you out.” He stretched his neck and yawned. The movement pulled his shirt tight against his chest. A chest she wanted to run her hands over.
She had to remind herself to speak. “Oh, you won’t. I never use this room. It’s about time someone did.” Smiling, she stepped back to the door and took hold of the handle. “Get some sleep. Hopefully dinner will come with news of your impending hunt.”
She closed the door on him and let out a long, low breath. She could imagine too many ways to turn his current tiredness into complete exhaustion.
Her mother was getting dangerous.
She wanted him, but the days when she could have a casual fling were long gone.
Attractive or not, the man was Ferrian, looking for something she didn’t possess, and would be gone as soon as he found it. And she would soon get over her lusty thoughts.
There was something in his eyes—something more desolate than exhaustion, though there was plenty of that too. The loss he felt for whatever he lost weighed heavily on him. And there was regret there too. Oddly, she felt as though that particular emotion was directed at her.
A shadow of movement pulled her from her thoughts.
Mina sprang from the servant’s stairs.
Silvia only had a moment to react and she wasn’t fast enough. Knocked to floor, her skirt tangled with Mina’s. Blocking against Mina’s swing, she barely had time to dodge the second, and try as she might, she couldn’t get the other woman off her.
“Frankincense!” Silvia called out a moment before Mina’s fist hit the tile beside her head.
Mina leapt off of her and stood three feet away, arms crossed over her chest, a disapproving look on her face. “You are slipping.”
“I shouldn’t have to watch my back every second when I’m in my own home.”
Silvia looked at the tile floor beside her, expecting to see a crack in the marble. Mina’s fist had left no damage.
“And I’ve told you, a knife to the back doesn’t require a foreign hand.”
Silvia glared at her. “Says the woman with foreign hands who is constantly attacking me.”
“I do that for your own benefit. Besides, I’m not actually going to kill my best friend.” Mina’s smile said she did it for fun as well.
“You’ll only give me a black eye a week before my mother plans to trot me out in front of the whole kingdom like a prized jewel for sale.”
“Or for stealing.” Mina smiled, vicious as a viper.
Silvia held her h
and out and her best friend helped her up. “You and I need to talk about this whole friendship thing. I’m starting to think you’re going to stab me in the back in reality one of these days. Possibly by throwing me at someone. Has my mother offered to pay you yet?”
“Not yet. And I’m the last person who’d force you on a man. But if keeping you safe means making you not trust me… I’ll live with the consequences.”
Wrapping an arm around Mina’s waist, Silvia dropped her head to the woman’s shoulder and walked with her down the halls. “Someday it will be me getting the drop on you.”
“Just keep telling yourself that.”
The walls echoed with their footsteps, and Silvia let her go as they pushed through the doors.
“There you are,” her mother said, as though she had no idea what was going on. Devious.
Sitting in the chair beside her and gathering up a bundle of glittering tulle, Silvia said, “You are playing dirty.”
Her mother glanced at her and then got a faraway look on her face—consulting with her spies no doubt. The frown that touched her lips was unexpected. “I see you met our guest. That was quick.”
Silvia couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “You didn’t tell Ivy to lock me in a room with him?”
Her mother’s mouth screwed into a deeper frown and disapproval radiated off her. The magic made Silvia queasy.
“I did not.”
At least she knew her mother wasn’t lying.
“He looked dead on his feet. I put him in my room. Told him to go to sleep. And now, I’m going to tell you that at dinner tonight, you will let him search the forest for whatever it is he lost.”
“What if he’s a treasure hunter?” The maid that spoke looked at her with wide eyes.
Susan had a habit of reading fanciful novels. While Heinrich certainly fit the physical mold of a fictional hero, she doubted there was any treasure within her mother’s forest that was unknown to her.
“He’s Ferrian. What use does he have for silver? Whatever was stolen was probably iron. The way he talked about it…” A strange thought crossed through her mind. But it was ridiculous. A clockwork frog was hardly the most valuable thing in the world.