Vengeful Prince

by Mary E. Twomey

  I can feel Prince Salem behind me, watching my movements. “I’m not stealing,” I inform him. “Just because I’m fae doesn’t mean I’m up to something. He’s a vampire, and he’s far shadier than I am. Jole didn’t pay his bill last night or tonight. I’m taking what’s owed, plus my tip. That a problem?” I try to sound bold, but the sight of his massive frame always fills me with a thrill I can’t shake. He’s intensely sexy, with slate eyes that say things I’ve never been able to understand.

  How I wish I could. How I wish I wasn’t fae, so he would see me as… I mentally kick myself for being so stupid. I’m a barmaid, and he’s a prince. Our differing races aside, he’s incredible, and I’m… I make ugly cookies between bouts of getting my ass smacked at a bar.

  Prince Salem holds up his hands, his silhouette outlined by the faded neon that blinks above him, but he doesn’t speak. His silence is one of the things that draws me in whenever Prince Salem comes to the pub. Sure, we’re in Neutral Territory where restaurants serve mixed company all the time, but usually they don’t come in alone. There’s strength in numbers, and old prejudices run deep and die hard. But Prince Salem always sits at the bar by himself, saying nothing except “Evening, Hannah,” and after he’s through with his ale, he’ll ask, “Do ye need anything?” When I turn down his polite offer (I mean, I’m not sure what help a prince from Jacoba expects he can give a fae dropout from Faveda), he over-tips me and gives me a nod with a polite, “I’ll see ye next month, Hannah.”

  The urge to punch Jole across the face for humiliating me in front of Prince Salem is so strong, my fingers curl into a fist as I turn back toward the unconscious man at my feet. “Could you go back inside, your majesty?” I ask Prince Salem without looking over my shoulder. I don’t want him to see my face. It feels like it’s written all over me that I’m about to unleash on someone who’s not of my race. Inter-species fighting gets big and complicated where he’s from, but the rules are pretty hazy out here where the three hateful territories pretty much leave us alone. Best spare him the worst parts of me.

  Prince Salem hesitates, but complies.

  Checking left and right to make sure no one’s around and all of Jole’s buddies have deserted him, I clap my hands together twice, sprouting a small plant from my palm. I pick off two of the leaves—three would be deadly—and roll them up. Shoving them between Jole’s teeth is job one, getting the poisonous plant to sit on his tongue long enough to take effect is job two. I pluck the plant from my palm and tear it to bits, destroying the evidence of my dark talent. Fae are supposed to conjure up pleasant things like fruit-bearing trees and fragrant flowers. My magic has always been defunct, but it comes in handy in my line of work.

  When I wager the leaves have saturated Jole’s tongue, I know I have a five-minute window where I could either let the leaves eat through his soft tissue, or I can let it merely upset his stomach, so he doesn’t die of consumption.

  Mercy is best, I reason, especially when there’s a royal witness.

  I stomp my boot atop Jole’s gut, my teeth grinding out my anger as I force the vomit from the lowlife. Then I use the edge of my boot to roll him onto his side so he doesn’t choke on his own puke. Though my life would certainly be easier if I let Jole die, he’s one of my best customers, passed out as often as he is. When he’s not aware of what he’s doing, he’s a fantastic tipper, and they just raised the rent on my place. Fiora’s joints have been bothering her, so I insisted she take on fewer clients. Being the unofficial healer for the area doesn’t exactly pay well, and I don’t like her going up and down the stairs of our apartment too often, old as she’s getting.

  The rain soaks through my navy long-sleeved t-shirt, a shiver rolling through me as I trot back into the bar. I can’t remember the last time I was warm. “Sorry about that,” I say to Prince Salem. “I was just closing up, but I’ll get you your usual if you don’t mind me cleaning up while you do your thing.” I pull down the biggest stein we’ve got. The one I save for him. “What do your guards want?”

  Prince Salem’s eyes dart around the space like he’s searching for more perverts who get off on spanking me. “Where’s the owner? Did Harold go home for the night?”

  “He doesn’t come in on Wednesdays. It’s just me. No one’s going to bother you. Here,” I offer as I move toward the exit and lock it. I know Prince Salem doesn’t exactly like people. Every now and then, I’ll close up with him still finishing his ale. I love those nights. He’s so quiet. Something about his silence helps to calm down the screaming I can hear in my mind when things get too out of control. We don’t talk, but somehow, it’s still the most pleasant interaction I get most days. He doesn’t look at the scars on my cheek like I’m hideous, and I get to pretend that he wants to be near me.

  I’m fantastic at pretending. I pretend I can’t do a lick of magic while muddling my butter with eevana leaves so the residents of Neutral Territory finally get a break from their nightmares. I pretend my customers’ jokes are hilarious. I pretend I’m not the only fae for miles, that I’m not the freak in the midst of a land of criminals. I pretend I’m totally okay with my lot in life, and most days, I fool even myself.

  I pour Prince Salem his ale and then glance up at the two guards, who still haven’t removed their hoods. “What are you two drinking?”

  “Four shots of Heavy and a bottle of O-Negative Soda,” one replies, stunning me into inaction. Prince Salem travels with a vampire as his guard? When he takes his hood off, all words leave me in a gust. I stumble backwards, hugging the counter and tipping over a few glasses.

  It’s Prince Destino Karamathian. Prince Destino Karamathian of Drexdenberg is in the bar with Prince Salem. Are they friends? Why else would they be traveling together, with Prince Destino in disguise? I want to ask Prince Salem why the crap he’s hanging out with the prince from a warring territory, but before I can work out a coherent sentence, the third takes off his hood, shocking a shriek from me.

  Alexavier! It can’t be! My heart soars at the sight of him and then quickly crashes. Please don’t recognize me!

  The floor behind the bar is always dirty at the end of the night, so I move around to properly kneel before the man who’s next in line to rule the land I came from. With my head down and my hands and forehead pressed to the ground, I try to keep the tremble from my voice. “Forgive me, Prince Alexavier! I didn’t realize it was you.” My hair is wet from the rain, I’m shivering and hardly presentable after a ten-hour shift. My boots are caked with mud—a classic no-no for a fae.

  Please don’t recognize me. Please don’t recognize me. It’s been sixteen years since he last saw me. We were children back then, trying to stay out of the way of the grownups together whenever our parents had their big, important meetings. I close my eyes and picture clearly the face of the boy who had tea parties with me under the table in the study of the Faveda palace. He was afraid of my dad, and I was afraid of both his father and my own. But we had each other, so the world seemed less scary. When I lost him for good, that’s when the real terror started.

  Not Prince Alexavier. Lexi. My Lexi.

  There’s no way he knows it’s me. I’m supposed to be dead. Plus, I was eight years old when he saw me last. My face wasn’t scarred. And he was far more important to me than I probably ever was to him. Did he cry for me when my death was announced?

  I expect the hard boot of authority to weigh down my left shoulder, as is customary when an elder or commander acknowledges his inferiors. But I don’t feel the oppressive weight that lets me know he’s the one in charge. Instead it’s Prince Salem who reaches for me, pulling me up in a gentle motion that brings me back to standing. I’m certain this will be seen as disrespectful, which I am not. His gray eyes meet mine with something that looks like silent agony. “I don’t like ye on your knees.”

  What the crap am I supposed to do when Lexi comes into the bar? Bowing is standard.

  Alexavier’s eyes are brilliantly blue, like mine and every other fae,
but his have always sparkled with decadence that comes easy when you’re so very rich and powerful. Mine haven’t sparkled since our last tea party. Oh, how young I was.

  Lexi waves his hand dismissively. “There’s nothing to forgive. I was traveling incognito. I’m actually glad you didn’t recognize me.” His gaze flicks to Prince Salem. “This is the girl?”

  My blood runs cold. He couldn’t possibly know. General Klein tried to have me killed to cover over my crimes. That was supposed to be the end of it. No one should be looking for me because they all think I’m dead. That he’s coming to punish me for all I’ve done now? I was only eight years old! I didn’t know I could do that!

  “Aye.”

  He knows. Of all the people I hoped would never learn the truth, Prince Salem is the last person I’d want to see me that way. I’m mortified, and worse than that, I might be in some real trouble. Trouble that not even hiding out in Neutral Territory can fix. Too many images flash through my mind—small dead bodies slumped over desks, pencils falling to the floor like thin gavels of doom. The whole classroom littered with tiny white flowers that were never supposed to be there. I’m sweating, though I’m still chilly from the rain outside. My boot takes a step to the side, and before I know it, I’m running for the exit.

  Which I’ve already locked.

  4

  Three Princes, One Offer

  Hannah

  The three princes shout for me to stop, and I hear footfalls of someone running after me. Did General Klein send some of his men to take me in? Are they waiting outside? Have I finally been ruled a threat to national security? Is that why Prince Alexavier himself is here? Is he going to take me to his dungeon, where I’ll rot far away from the sun? I shouldn’t have used that plant to make Jole vomit. That’s definitely against the rules. And my ugly cookies? Questionable at best.

  A strong arm slams to the door while I fumble with the lock. Prince Salem has never scared me before, but now that I could be on the receiving end of his wrath, terror consumes me. Before I can search for better words, all the wrong ones spill out of me. “I didn’t mean to do it! Please don’t lock me away! I’ll do anything!”

  It’s Prince Destino Karamathian, whose golden vampire eyes bore into me with confusion. Confusion, not condemnation. “What did you mean not to have done? Why would we lock you away?”

  He doesn’t know who I am, or what I’ve done.

  My fingers freeze on the lock as my brain scrambles to piece together anything believable. “Nothing. Um, I stole some money from Jole out there, but it was only to pay off his bill. He can’t keep drinking for free like this.” I try to make Prince Destino believe me, but I think we both know I’m doing a poor job at convincing him.

  Prince Destino narrows his eyes. “Is that all?”

  I’ve never seen the prince from Drexdenberg up close like this. I mean, I’ve seen his portrait, of course. But the artists underplayed his strong jawline that’s peppered with a neatly groomed five o’clock shadow. He’s got the olive skin that all vampire have, but his forehead is covered in sweat. His scruff is artfully done, going from his black sideburns all the way across his jaw and up to frame his heart-shaped lips. His hair is the color of midnight but without a hint of the stars. It’s only an inch or two long on top, but it sticks out all over the place, as I imagine he would anywhere he travels without this cloak. He’s devastatingly handsome, and I can’t get away from him fast enough.

  We’re locked in a silent battle, where he knows I’m lying, and I know he’s never going to get a confession out of me. His left eye is bruised, the skin swollen beneath and above. I can’t imagine who’d be stupid enough to attack the prince of Drexdenberg. Though his entire race thinks the fae are useless, except for our ability to donate blood to them and grow pretty flowers, I would never dream of raising my fist to someone of his pedigree.

  Finally, my shoulders lower and I don a friendly tone, as if I didn’t just almost confess to too many crimes, and then try to bolt out of the place. “I believe I promised you gentleman a drink while I cleaned up. Why don’t you take the table by the fireplace? It’s mighty cold tonight.”

  I walk away from Prince Destino, but he catches my arm. “You’ll be joining us, then. I’ll have those four shots of Heavy, the O-Negative Soda, and Alexavier will have litra, neat.”

  Alexavier casts over his shoulder casually as he makes his way over to the table near the fireplace. “Litra, neat, but since you’re fae, can you make it with flower water? I’m partial to peonies.”

  The tension lessens a bit when Prince Destino rolls his eyes at me, as if we’re co-conspirators all of a sudden. “You sound so pretentious when you talk like that. I’ve seen you drink litra, neat, with regular old well water loads of times.”

  “Yes, but it’s a big occasion. I’d like a special drink to celebrate you meeting your future bride.”

  Prince Destino is engaged? That must be pretty recent. I usually get a good earful of the freshest gossip from the regulars here. “Congratulations, your majesty. I’ll get your drinks right away.” Then to Lexi, I offer an apologetic, “I’m sorry, your majesty. I can’t make you peony water to flavor your drink.”

  “You’re fae, aren’t you? That should be simple enough.” He points to the single bulb lighting the bar. Fae can power electricity without trying, sure, but that’s from birth. Growing plants is a craft that takes skill.

  My jaw tightens as it always does when I have to give my canned response every time someone comes in and orders something obnoxious like that. “Peony water is simple, but I’m stupid, so I can’t make it for you.”

  “I’m not stupid,” I want to explain, but I never do. “Stupid” shuts people up, which is what I want. Letting them know I’m only capable of creating poisons is a conversation I’ve yet to figure out how to put a positive spin on. Best let them think I have no magical prowess whatsoever.

  I don’t want Prince Salem to think I’m stupid, but now it’s out there, floating for his hearing to absorb and place me even further below his status. I’ve gone and humiliated myself, but it’s a necessary evil. Can’t have people poking into my powers. Pretending to have none is far simpler.

  Lexi grimaces at my harsh assessment and offers the standard apology before he waves me off to go fetch his drink. Fine by me.

  Lexi prefers daffodil water in his tea. Or, at least he did when he was ten, and I was an eight-year-old trying to keep up with the trends.

  It’s Prince Salem who watches me like he wants to ask questions. Thank the clouds he’s not much for conversation.

  The others sit, but Prince Destino follows me to the bar, leaning on the counter that divides us while I fix the drinks. “So, just how stupid are we talking?”

  “Are we talking?” I inquire with a raised eyebrow. Honestly, this whole situation is so surreal. I line up the four shots of Heavy, expecting to take them to the guys, but Des starts downing them, one after the other. It would be impressive if he wasn’t already sweating and looking on the edge of either winded or sick.

  “I think we are.” He winces through the burn. Normally one shot would knock me on my butt for the night. “You can’t conjure plants, is it? That’s unfortunate. That’s one of the main things the fae pride themselves on. Is that why you’re here in Neutral Territory? To escape the criticism?”

  “Mm-hm.” Sure. That’s as good a reason as any. “The only thing I need to know here is how drunk you want to get. I can figure out the mechanics of simple things easily enough, so that’s what I stick to. Sometimes I even manage to tie my own shoes by myself.”

  Okay, maybe that was a little bit snarky.

  Prince Destino chuckles as he takes the O-Negative soda I hand him. He twists off the cap and takes a long drink.

  Thirsty vampires make me nervous, but I try not to show it. I’m on a regular dose of Green Lightning, so I know any vampire who bites into me will be disgusted and will immediately get sick. Still, my dose only lasts until next month,
so I make a mental note to go back for a booster.

  I take the litra, neat, to Lexi, and set Prince Salem’s big stein in front of him, moving the handle to the left, perpendicular to the table, just how he prefers it. Then I set down extra napkins for him to write notes on. That one took me a couple months to catch.

  When I move toward the cleaning closet, Lexi pushes out the fourth chair at their table. “Have a seat, Fair Hannah.”

  It’s a dig, and I know it. If he wasn’t the prince, I’d tell him off for talking to me like that. Like I don’t know my left cheek is hideous with its three claw marks from my temple to my jaw. Like I don’t know the fae women are admired for being the most beautiful in all the world, and I’m the butt of every joke because I’m not. Hilarious.

  But because it’s Prince Alexavier, I cast a friendly smile their way. “Sorry, gentleman. I have to clean up. Otherwise I’ll be here all night. I’m sure you can have your fun without me.” I grab a clean rag from the cabinet and wet it, wiping down the table furthest from them.

  They’re quiet, and the silence makes me angsty. Packed pubs are a gift from the universe; there’s too much commotion to let the voices in your head do all the talking. I’m almost grateful Prince Salem stalks over to my side, that is, until he speaks. “I’ll do tha. Ye go sit with the lads over there.”

  I blink up at his towering form. “You’ll do what, wash the tables? Isn’t that like, illegal or something? You’re royalty.”

  He doesn’t say anything else, but abducts the rag from my hand and jerks his scruff-laced chin in the direction of the other two princes. It’s a command, and I know better than to disobey a directive. My feet are heavy as I move over to the only occupied table in the place. Suddenly I wish Prince Salem was sitting here. He’s got that calming way about him that settles my nerves while exciting the butterflies in my belly. Plus, his tall and solid body could block Lexi’s view of me.