The Castle of Fire and Fable (Briarwood Reverse Harem Book 2)

by Steffanie Holmes

  “Arthur thinks he’s in love and he doesn’t want any of us touching his princess,” I sighed. “No matter how much she’s begging to be touched.”

  As if I needed another problem to deal with.

  Hang on a bloody moment. Why am I assuming it’s my problem? I’m not the leader anymore. I’m just another guy who lives in that house. If Arthur wants to get all grumpy because he’s the only one Maeve hasn’t slept with, that’s his business.

  The pure selfishness of the thought sent a weird thrill down my spine. Such a weird sensation. I don’t have to stress about it. It’s not my problem.

  But then Keegan’s face flashed in front of me, his skin blue and his glassy eyes glaring straight at me, reminding me what happened when you let your guard down, when you stopped looking out for those you care about. My chest tightened. I dug my phone out of my pocket and started scrolling for Arthur’s number.

  “Don’t call him,” Rowan whispered. “He needs to calm down.”

  “I can’t leave it like this. What if he sets fire to the church? Then how will Jane get Connor baptized?”

  “Corbin,” Rowan’s voice was quiet, but there was an edge I rarely heard, an edge that said he was going to push this.

  “Fine.” I shoved my phone back in my pocket, but the tightness didn’t leave my chest. “I’ll deal with it when we get back.”

  We walked into the bus station. I scanned the timetable, but the numbers blurred together. My head throbbed. The scones I had for breakfast squirreled around in my gut. I squeezed my eyes shut and Keegan’s face taunted me from behind my eyelids. I don’t want to do this.

  “Corbin, you don’t look good.”

  “I’m fine,” I sighed, fishing in my pocket for some cash. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

  11

  MAEVE

  “Did the guys seem weird to you?” I asked Jane as we walked up the lane toward her house. Arthur let us out a block early, but in all honesty, I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay in that car with him any longer. Things had got weirdly tense all of a sudden.

  I scanned the street, suddenly aware of how alone and vulnerable we were. I thrust my hand into my purse, searching for the trinkets the guys had given me for protection. My favourite dress – for all its good points like the way it made me feel feminine without being too revealing – didn’t have any pockets for magical talismans. My fingers brushed each object in turn – the medallion, the small dagger, the twig, and the parchment. Arthur had left to drop Corbin and Rowan off, and he was going to meet us at the church on his way back, so it was reassuring to know I had some of my guys’ magical protection.

  There was also a package of cookies in there Rowan had slipped to me as I climbed out of the car. He called them “biscuits,” but I’d already eaten one and they were sweet and lemony and delicious.

  “They seemed like normal guys to me.” Jane munched on a cookie. “Why, they don’t usually get all sulky when you tell them you want to keep fucking all of them?”

  My cheeks flared. “I didn’t say that. That’s not—”

  “I can read between the lines, Maeve. You’re young, full of witchy hormones, and in mourning for your own special tragedy. If I was in your shoes, I wouldn’t have lasted two days in that castle with those hotties. You’ve been here a week, so I know you’re fucking at least some of them. My question is, who?”

  Now my whole face was on fire. I tried to turn away, but something in Jane’s eyes held me. I remembered what Inspector Davies had said and I realized that Jane might be the only person I ever met who I could actually talk about this with. The pain of losing my parents still clung to my chest, following me everywhere like a ghost. Jane lost her grandmother long enough ago that the raw pain of it had faded a little – I could see my future in her knowing eyes. I needed that. For all her guy-crazy antics, Kelly was still a virgin, and she was dealing with her own grief that was as raw and all-consuming as my own. I didn’t have any other girlfriends I could talk to, and as much as I was growing close to the guys, it didn’t seem like a thing I could really discuss with them.

  “Two of them,” I mumbled. “Corbin and Rowan.”

  “Oh.” Jane flicked a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. “Interesting.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I wouldn’t have expected you to go for that combination. Corbin, sure. Those dark eyes, the huge shoulders, that infuriating need to take charge of every situation. But I had you pegged for the sword-wielding maniac, not the quiet queer guy.”

  “Rowan’s not queer!” But a flicker of Rowan’s face when he’d seen Corbin and Flynn on the couch with me passed in front of my eyes. “Is he?”

  “Hell yeah. At the very least, he’s bi. He’s mad keen on that Corbin, I reckon. I’m not surprised. Damaged guys like Rowan always cling to their saviors. Usually it’s the mighty pussy that puts them on the straight and narrow, but in Rowan’s case, it’s Corbin and his savior complex that have Rowan all hot under the collar. And you too, Maeve the witch.”

  “Don’t call me that. It sounds weird,” I laughed. I didn’t think she had it right about Rowan and Corbin, but what did I know about stuff like this? “I’ve never met a guy like Corbin before.”

  “Please,” Jane said. “I’ve met a hundred Corbins in my lifetime. They’re the protectors, the guys who have to be in charge because they can’t stand the idea that someone else might take responsibility for their actions. If I had three guesses, I’d say he’s carrying guilt about something he did in the past. Any history of drug use? The Corbins of the world are often users.”

  “I actually don’t know much about his past, apart from the fact that his family lived at Briarwood until he was fifteen, and then his parents moved away for some reason and left Corbin behind.”

  Jane waved a hand. “Whatever. They aren’t as interesting to me as you, Maeve Crawford-Moore of Arizona and Briarwood House. What’s your story?”

  I shrugged. “You know most of it already. My parents died. I came to Briarwood, discovered I was a witch and my ancestors have spent centuries preventing the fae host from invading earth and causing chaos and mayhem. And I’m living with four hot guys—”

  “Five hot guys.”

  “Right.” I gulped. I couldn’t forget Blake. I wasn’t sure how long he’d stay, how long the others would tolerate him if Corbin didn’t accept him. But I guessed now that I was in charge of the coven I could force him to let Blake stay.

  Blake’s fingers slid between my legs while Flynn’s mouth devoured mine. Flynn’s already accepted him. At least, as far as I’m concerned.

  “What were you doing in Arizona before you found out about this place?”

  “I was in community college, studying physics.” The memory of my MIT acceptance letter on the fridge flashed in front of my eyes. “It’s my dream to attend MIT. Last year I was accepted, but I couldn’t get financial aid. I reapplied and managed to get a scholarship for the upcoming year. But Daigh somehow got to the college and they rescinded the scholarship offer. I got that news right after my parents died.”

  “So no MIT?”

  I shrugged. “I could sell the castle and get enough money for pretty much anything I wanted, but…”

  “But it’s full of hot guys?”

  “Yeah. And the whole my-father-is-a-fae-king-hellbent-on-destroying-the-earth-and-I-have-to-stop-him thing has kind of taken precedence. Plus, I’m still all messed up right now. I can’t seem to get through a day without breaking down about my parents. That’s not the ideal state-of-mind to be making decisions about my future.”

  “So why physics?” Jane wrinkled her nose. “I was always rubbish at math.”

  We rounded the corner on to Jane’s street. The bright flowers in her front garden spilled over the low wall.

  “Physics isn’t just numbers on a page. It’s the essence of life. It’s the laws that govern our universe and potentially even universes beyond ours.” I started to explain my theory about the fae
realm being in another part of the multiverse, and the gateway a wormhole between them, but Jane screwed up her face in disgust.

  “Christ, you really are a nerd,” Jane laughed as she pushed open the gate, and we squeezed up the path between the overflowing beds. “I used to hate girls like you at school—”

  Jane stopped short, her breath catching. I crashed into her, tripping over the edge of the path and toppling over a flowerpot.

  “Ow!” I cried as my knee hit a garish gnome. “Jane, what—”

  Jane’s face turned bone white. I followed her eyes to the door of the cottage. Written across the cherry-red door in thick black paint were the words:

  THE WHORE WILL BURN.

  12

  ROWAN

  I paid for my ticket and followed Corbin onto the bus. He slid into a seat near the back. I hesitated, not sure if he wanted me to sit next to him or give him some time alone. But then someone bumped me from behind and I stumbled down the aisle. “Move it, darkie,” someone hissed in my ear. I nearly fell in Corbin’s lap as I hurried to sit down, my heart pounding.

  This is why I hate going outside. At least when I lived on the street, the drugs numbed the sting of dicks like that.

  A few minutes later, the bus pulled out of the station, heading for the Cotswolds. I’d never been before. On TV, it was all picturesque rolling hills and medieval thatched villages, the kind of place where an earth witch like me would be happiest. Corbin shoved his earbuds into his ears. Loud metal music blared from the tiny speakers. He stared out the window.

  My heart hammered against my chest. I knew why Corbin was acting so cold, why he didn’t want me to come with him. Well, I didn’t really know, since I’d never had any family of my own. Except for Corbin. And the thought of disappointing him in any way made my body clammy with sweat.

  But I knew what it was like to not feel in control, to have something burrowing inside you that altered you so completely that all it left behind was a shadow of yourself.

  I tried to read my book but all the words blurred together on the page. The sour look on Corbin’s face didn’t change for the whole bus ride. If anything, he grew more nervous, shifting in his seat and sighing under his breath.

  I wanted to do something to calm him, to show him it would be okay. But I didn’t know what that thing was, or how to say it. I hated myself for being so weak. If the situation was reversed – as it had been so many times – Corbin would know just how to calm me down.

  We got off the bus in one of those postcard perfect thatched-roof villages, and Corbin grabbed his bag and started stalking off down the high street. I raced after him, not stopping to relish the lightness in the air or the way the earth hummed beneath my feet, the soil surprisingly restless, apprehensive.

  Corbin turned down a side street. Here, the houses were less picturesque, more Victorian industrial. He stopped in front of a brick townhouse, identical to every other house on the street except for the bright red front door.

  Two kids’ bikes were chained up beside the front door, and there was a dying tomato plant in a yellow and pink polka-dot terra-cotta pot. I bent down and touched my fingers to the plant, and within moments the leaves unfurled again, bending toward the grey light. Tiny green cherry tomatoes popped out of the flowers.

  Corbin stood in front of the red front door, sucking in deep breaths. “Stay behind me,” he ordered. I reached out a hand to touch his arm, to show him that I was here for him, but he shrugged it away.

  Corbin took a heaving breath and knocked.

  13

  MAEVE

  Jane’s eyes narrowed at the door, her body stiff as she leaned over the handles of the stroller like it was the only thing stopping her from kicking the door in. My stomach twisted. That’s sick. Who would do that to a woman who just went through hell?

  THE WHORE WILL BURN.

  I put my hand on Jane’s shoulder, but she jerked away.

  “What does that even mean?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” Jane snapped, whirling around and storming back down the front path. She jerked the stroller so hard that Connor woke up and started crying.

  “Jane.” I jogged after her, but her legs were longer than mine and she didn’t slow down. “Jane, wait, please.”

  Jane yanked the stroller to a stop and bent down to unbuckle Connor. She lifted him into her arms and jiggled him up and down, a little more violently than I’d seen her do before.

  “I hate this stupid village,” she growled, gripping Connor’s head so tight he growled.

  “Who would do that to your house?”

  “One of the local old biddies, no doubt.” Connor started wailing, and Jane had to yell over his cries. “They can’t stand the idea of their old fashioned values being challenged. They’ve had it out for me ever since—” she snapped her mouth shut.

  “Since what?”

  Jane bent her head to Connor, kissing his head as his cries simmered down into sniffles. She didn’t answer.

  I decided to press on. If people were tagging her cottage, we needed to know what exactly we were dealing with. “Jane, when the police were questioning me, they said that you’d been arrested before…” I squeezed her shoulder. “For street solicitation. Is this something to do with that?”

  Jane screwed her face up, her hand balling into a fist. “Inspector Davies, right? She’s a right she-wolf, she is. If I report this crime, she won’t lift a finger to find the culprit. She shouldn’t have told you that. She was trying to catch you by surprise so you’d reveal something she could drag me in for.”

  “It was Davies. Jane, is it true?”

  “It’s not really any of your business.”

  The comment stung, but I ignored it. “You’re part of our coven now, whether you like it or not. The guys and I will do our best to protect you and Connor, but you have to give us the full story.”

  “Have you told the guys about what Davies said?”

  I shook my head. “I wanted to speak to you first.”

  “Good.” Jane rocked Connor back and forth. “That’s good.”

  “So it’s true, then? You’re a—” I couldn’t think of a polite way to finish that sentence.

  Jane sighed. “A prostitute, Maeve. You can say it. I’m not ashamed of it. Why do you think I let you in when you showed up with that cock-and-bull story about being from the local women's group? Most of the women in this village want to see me burned at the stake, and Inspector Davies would be the one to light the match. Her husband was only one of a long line of men who wanted to try something more exotic. He was going on with me behind her back, but it was me she dragged out of the hotel room while her friends pelted me with rotten fruit, like a bloody witch hauled through the streets for all the righteous to look down on.”

  “Jane, I—”

  “It’s a service I do, same as hiring a housekeeper or getting your lawn mowed, but try explaining that to the bible thumpers. I never ran a brothel, but Davies saw an old school friend leave my place in a short skirt and hauled me in. After Davies put me away on those trumped up charges, this whole village treated me like a bloody pariah. For weeks these old biddies followed me around, screaming about hellfire and damnation. My parents cut me off so they wouldn’t lose face with their posh friends. I couldn’t even get a bloody prescription for the pill because the GP is friends with my mum, and that’s how I ended up with Connor. The only person who understood was Grandma. She knew a woman can’t rely on a man to look after us, we gotta find our own way. And then she had to go and die. And now I have to go groveling to the vicar who called me a whore to get Connor bloody baptized, and it’s going to start all over again.”

  “It’s not,” I said, moving my head so that I was in her line of vision. “Listen to me, I get it, okay? My adoptive parents were religious – evangelical Christians. My Dad was the church pastor. They had some ridiculous backwards ideas about all sorts of things, including my chosen career. But the important thing is, their God teaches them to forgi
ve. Only God gets to judge, and they are only supposed to love and accept, even when we’ve completely messed up in God’s eyes, because humans always mess up. If my parents could get past what I am, then you have every right to walk into a church and ask for a baptism, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  “That’s different,” Jane said. “You wanted their love and support. I don’t give a flying fuck about what anyone thinks. I just want to protect Connor from the witch hunts until he’s old enough we can move away from this stupid village.”

  “Then come live with us,” I said. “Come stay at the castle for a while. You’ve already got half of Connor’s stuff there, anyway. You can be the whore who lives with the witches in the castle and overlook them all from the top of the hill.”

  “Don’t you have to ask the guys?”

  “I own Briarwood castle. They are my tenants. If they have a problem – which they won’t – that’s too bad.”

  Jane stared over my shoulder for a long time. Finally she said. “Sure. I guess that’d be fine. As long as it’s not a hassle.”

  “You are not a hassle.”

  We turned a corner and a tiny church came into view. This was a proper English church – the kind you saw on English TV shows (or “the telly” as Flynn called it). Its faded stone walls and large stained glass window looked familiar to me, until I realized I’d seen the same church emblazoned on the cookie tins lining the shelves of the souvenir shops along the high street. Rose bushes lined the path, their fragrance wafting over us as we approached the open door. Jane looked like she was walking into a funeral.