Stone Prince

by Emma Alisyn

  “Thank you for coming in—you’re injured.”

  Rhina held up her hand, a sheepish look on her face. “That’s the thing I was dealing with. I was watching cooking videos and trying to use a cast-iron skillet, and I forgot the handles aren’t heat proof.”

  “You’re burned?” Bea’s expression shifted to sympathy. “Ouch. Cooking burns are the worst. My daughter learned the same lesson a few months ago. You took Tylenol?”

  “Yup, my building has a med kit, I’m all good, just need to keep it bandaged for a day or two.”

  Bea nodded. “Good, and maybe you can dictate—”

  Geza stepped out of the office with Niko, their dual hard expressions not shifting as they glanced at Rhina. Geza paused as they walked out. “You’re injured? See a medic.”

  “I’m fine, I—”

  He snarled. “See a goddamn medic.” He stalked out of the office. Niko glanced at her once and followed him.

  “Well,” Bea said. “I guess we’ll see a medic. Surah’s downstairs, I’ll—”

  “Oh, no! Don’t have the Princess attend me!” Rhina stared at Bea in genuine horror. She could fob off an ordinary medic, but the Ioveanu Princess would have questions.

  “Nonsense. She likes treating little wounds, she says it reminds her of simpler times.”

  Rhina sat stiffly as Surah examined her hand. The burn was a nasty one. She’d made sure of it. Tyra had protested, of course, but had wrapped her hand over Rhina’s around the handle of the heated pot to ensure Rhina followed through. And for just this reason, in case they insisted someone check her injury. Hopefully, Surah wouldn’t notice the fingers, but focus on the burn.

  “How did you burn yourself like this?” Surah asked.

  Rhina opened her mouth to repeat the story.

  “No, don’t bullshit me. For this level of burn you would have had to literally hold the pot handle for several seconds. Who does that? You do have feeling in your hand, don't you?”

  Goddamn, this was why she hadn't wanted to deal with someone intelligent. “Um . . . I was drinking. Cooking, a bottle or two of red . . . .” she trailed off, cheeks heating. “I took a sober-up, but I think I was pretty tore up.”

  “You drink?” Bea asked, staring at her. “You don’t really seem the type.”

  “I mean, in the privacy of my home with a hot chef commanding me to sear my steak before putting it in the oven . . . .”

  Surah grinned as Bea laughed. “You know, that does sound like fun.” She glanced at Bea. “We should try it. The cook will have a fit, but she needs a day off anyway.”

  “Your place?” Bea asked. “Not here, of course.”

  Surah grimaced. “God, no. This weekend? When are you off next?”

  Bea shook her head. “I'm not off for the next year. If it’s not Malin, it’s Geza. I can take a few hours. I’ll fudge Rhina’s schedule a bit, she’s already on overtime. They can’t say no if she takes a few hours.”

  “Wait, what?” When had she been included in this madness? “I mean . . . .”

  The females looked at her. “You don’t want to join us?” the Princess asked pointedly. “It was your idea.”

  How the hell had it been her idea? “I mean, Prince Malin’s estate . . . I’m just a—”

  Bea grinned. “Don't worry, you’ll get over the awe the first time you hear them snarling at each other or chasing the baby across the house.”

  “I just don’t think it’s appropriate when I'm an employee.”

  Surah rolled her eyes and finished with Rhina’s hand. “You’re worse than Bea was.”

  “All we have to do is open a bottle of red.” Bea snickered.

  Rhina wondered at the sudden rush of despair silencing her words. They were making it too easy for her. There was no way she could plead a lack of opportunity if Lourden found out she’d been invited by the Princess herself into her private home, in their presence, when they were tipsy, guard down. Surah was trained, but her warrior skills were secondary. She was a doctor and no match for Rhina.

  She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to kill the pregnant Princess, or her daughter, or Bea. What were her options? Just walk away? Never. She’d spilled too much blood for the Mogrens, spent too many years training for the moment she’d have a shot at her mother’s killer. At Prince Geza.

  Tyra’s words echoed in her head and she grimaced.

  Surah noticed. “Your pain pills wore off? Eh, I'll give you a shot of local anesthetic, but don’t forget the hand is injured and overuse it.”

  She sat stoically while the Princess fussed and Bea talked about which hot chefs to watch, the menu, and whether they should let the males try their cooking.

  Just then, Rhina’s heart cracked, just a little. It was the worst pain she’d ever felt.

  9

  They rehashed the scenario over and over until Geza began to understand what prisoners felt like when being debriefed. “Enough,” he snapped. “There isn’t anything more I can tell you.”

  “You need to cancel the ball,” Malin said.

  “No.”

  “If the Mogrens are planning a strike, it would be the perfect time.”

  “This isn’t like them. It was almost clumsy,” Niko said.

  “There’s no one to give orders, so whoever they have in place is acting on their own intelligence.”

  “Just find out what kind of assassin can change faces,” Geza said.

  Malin and Niko looked at each other. “There is no such thing as a skin walker, that’s a myth,” Malin said. “The only other magic I know of, unless it’s a technology we don’t know about, is Fae glamour.”

  “A fucking Fae assassin?” Niko exclaimed. “Why would the Fae get involved in this? They keep even tighter control over their families than we do.”

  Geza knew. Malin wouldn’t remember Moghrenna. Niko hadn’t known her. But, Geza . . . he’d always suspected the ‘other’ that gave Alexa’s daughter her slanted eyes and silvery hair and fine features was Fae. So, the real question was . . . had she attacked him because she’d heard his message? Or because she hadn’t?

  “Have you closed in on Moghrenna Mogren yet?”

  Niko’s expression was grim. “She disappeared, even before we struck their stronghold. There’s next to no public data on her, she must have been homeschooled. No medical, no financials under that name. She’s a ghost. All we know is that she was born. We don’t even know what she looks like.”

  “How the hell does a person not have any type of data trail?”

  “The Mogrens must have kept her dark for a reason. She’s never been to court, either, though her mother was highborn.”

  “She’s been to court,” Geza said. “They just didn’t present her. Because she’s not a sanctioned birth?”

  “They still would have used her for at least a low-level alliance. No, there's a reason. We’ll keep digging.”

  Geza’s eyes were hard. “I don’t want Moghrenna Mogren harmed. If we find her, bring her to me.”

  They stared at him. “Why?” Malin asked.

  “I knew her mother. I would prefer not to execute her daughter if it can be avoided.”

  His brother’s brows rose slowly. “You knew Alexa Mogren?”

  “We were friends for a time.”

  “Friends.”

  “Yes. Friends.”

  Surah entered the office, expression stony. “I just treated Rhina for a burn to her hand.”

  “I know, I told her to see a medic,” Geza said.

  “Two fingers on the same hand were broken. Why wouldn’t she mention broken fingers?”

  Niko’s nostrils flared. Geza stiffened.

  “What is it?” Surah asked, eyes narrowing.

  He knew he’d injured the hand of his assailant. He recalled the hand Rhina had the bandage on. The left. “I injured the left hand of the assassin.”

  Surah stared at him. “The assassin was a gargoyle male.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences,�
�� Niko said. “We need to question her.”

  “You want to question a human female—who has been an employee for several weeks now and passed all our checks—about a male, gargoyle assassin?”

  Geza spun in a circle, wings tight against his back. “There are ways. It could have been a disguise.”

  “No,” his brother said, frowning. “It makes no sense, but it could be a coincidence. How did she say she burned herself?”

  “Cooking while drinking.”

  “She’s single? No abusive husband or boyfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Niko’s right,” Geza said. “I don’t believe in coincidences, either. I’ll question her. If she is the assassin, or an accomplice, then she does have the technology to pull off cloaking her appearance in a way we’ve never seen before. Which means if we make her think we’re on to her, she’ll be gone. If she is innocent . . . .”

  No one wanted to hurt an innocent. However, these were challenging times.

  “It could be magic,” Surah said.

  “What kind of magic would allow her to change her appearance? We haven’t had that kind of magic for a millennium.”

  “No, but the Fae do.”

  The males all looked at each other. The princess had arrived at the exact same speculation they had.

  So was Rhina really Moghrenna, or was Rhina a human or Fae assassin in disguise?

  He went silent, battling every instinct to hunt her down and demand the truth. Noise faded to the background, and Geza closed his eyes. He had to move carefully, he had to approach her the way a hunter would approach the shyest doe. He had to be patient. If she was already here, under his hand, then that meant he could watch her, protect her, and wait for her to come to him. That was what he wanted.

  “Geza? Geza?”

  His eyes snapped open. “I want to talk to Lourden.”

  Geza entered Lourden’s cell. The male glanced at him, but didn’t rise. Geza didn’t bother to chastise him. If he was a prisoner in an enemy’s tower, he wouldn’t rise either.

  “You have someone on the outside,” Geza said flatly. “Tell me who it is, and we’ll consider commuting your sentence from death.”

  Lourden smiled. “I don’t fear death. I fear being made a coward.”

  “We’re close on her trail, you know.” Geza watched him carefully, but the male didn’t betray himself by even the flinch of an eyelash. The blank stoicism was a sign. “I could waste my breath talking to you, but I’d rather let my sister play. Surah.”

  The Princess stepped into the room, a small, black bag in her hand. She looked at Lourden and smiled sweetly.

  The male reacted then, lip curling. “So, you unleash your mongrel bitch. Tell me, is the abomination growing in her womb really Malin’s heir—or yours?”

  Geza rubbed his hands together. “This will be fun.”

  Two guards stepped in, and Lourden, after a struggle, was strapped into a chair. Surah set her supplies on a small, portable table and took a chair next to him, a small, manic smile fixed on her face. Geza eyed her. He was certain she had not one drop of actual Ioveanu blood, but she seemed to relish the prospect of torturing Lourden far too much to be a mere doctor. Malin was probably rubbing off on her.

  “If you think I’m about to let you hurt my family,” she said to Lourden as she prepped his arm. “You’re wrong.”

  The screams began twenty minutes later.

  Geza and Surah argued in the hall. “If I go any further, it’ll kill him,” she said. “His heart has stopped once already. He isn’t going to break.”

  “Everyone breaks,” Geza snapped. “Maybe you aren’t trying hard enough.”

  She stared at him. “Do you really think that, brother?”

  No, he didn’t. He’d worried a bit, but not now. She’d proven that there was an equally opposite, and deeply dark side to her promise to do no harm. She’d proven she was as much an Ioveanu as he was. They didn’t flinch at torture, and they didn’t show mercy to an enemy. Surah was protecting her mate and children, and what gargoyle wouldn’t descend to their bestial nature to do so? The last several months had taught him to re-think what he thought he knew about the delicate, feminine nature.

  Delicate, his ass.

  “Alright, maybe we’re asking the wrong questions,” Geza said, staring up at the wall as he thought. “Ask him again, but this time focus on what he doesn’t say, not what he does.”

  She paused, eyes narrowing as she followed his train of thought. “Malin is better at this kind of questioning.”

  “You’re insane. He would murder me if he knew I let you do this.”

  “You’re a fool if you think he won’t find out by the end of the night.”

  Malin was furious, his white-lipped rage causing even Surah to take a step back. “You allowed my pregnant mate to enter a room with Lourden Mogren and torture him?” His voice was low and hoarse with the effort not to shout.

  “She wasn’t in any danger,” Geza said. “I needed answers.”

  “What did you learn, Prince?” Malin’s voice was cold.

  “I learned where Moghrenna isn’t.”

  Surah watched him, eyes narrowed. He looked at his sister, and knew she would keep quiet. For now.

  10

  Tyra leapt from the chair when Rhina entered the apartment. “You’re alive! I thought for sure they would have caught you.”

  Rhina grimaced. “I’m a professional.”

  Tyra folded her arms, mouth thin. “Did the trick with your hand work? That’s a different bandage.”

  Rhina depressed the button for the wall bed, then sank down on the edge once it was fully lowered. She sighed. “Surah treated it, but I don’t think she noticed the fingers.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. What kind of medic wouldn’t notice broken fingers?”

  Which was a problem. If Surah had noticed but not said anything, it could only mean she was already suspicious. Rhina brooded.

  “Have you thought about what I said?” Tyra asked. “We didn’t finish the discussion.”

  She rubbed a hand over her face, but her expression was stony when she glanced at her cousin. “You’re still trying to talk me out of killing them. I don’t want to kill the Princesses, or even Malin, if that helps your conscience.”

  It occurred to her that if Tyra felt so strongly about the issue, she might betray her. Rhina abandoned the thought as soon as it rose. No Mogren would betray another, not when death was on the line.

  “I’ve been trying to put together the pieces,” Tyra said, sitting on the bed next to Rhina. The earnestness shining through her face made Rhina’s fangs ache. Had she ever been that innocent?

  “You were at court when you were a child, weren’t you? I’m only a few years older than you, but I remember Alexa leaving, and there was a fuss because she wouldn’t leave you behind.”

  Rhina remembered. Geza had been a young male the first time she’d gone to court. A lean, mischievous sapling just coming into his sexuality. He and Alexa had spent hours together and for the first time in years, she’d seen her mother smile, amused by the attention of the young Prince.

  He’d been kind to her as well, though he mostly left her alone, seeming to understand that the quiet, half-blood child preferred to be left alone. Besides, what interest could a child hold for him? He’d brought her treats when he came to visit her mother. And the second summer she’d gone to court, years later when she was sixteen, he’d seemed to understand she was no longer a child, but not yet an adult, with all the attendant, fragile pride that came along with straddling the divide.

  Pride that wouldn’t allow her to accept his help when the nights turned dark and even her mother refused to intervene. A Mogren had to learn how to navigate court, and fight enemies. Especially Moghrenna.

  That hadn’t stopped Geza from bringing her chocolates, studying her bruised face with an impassive expression, and no comment.

  “You spoil her,” her mother had said, then, lower
ing her voice, “You know why I do nothing. She must learn. If she doesn’t, her life will be even harder.”

  The Prince just glanced at Rhina, then shrugged. “You sure you want to raise her in a Mogren cess pit? They can’t be happy about her. Don’t you all usually strangle your mutts at birth?”

  Alexa had stiffened, thought Rhina hadn’t been offended. “Don’t say things like that in front of her.”

  “Bring her back to court when she’s an adult. My father will let me intervene then. Otherwise, Lavinia will make her a monster, either through abuse or training. Or marry her to one.”

  Rhina hadn’t understood then what he’d meant, but she did now. If she hadn’t shown intriguing talents soon after, Lavinia would have shunted her aside to be used in marriage as an alliance tool. The Prince had been offering his protection, so she couldn’t be wed without at least some care being taken in the choosing of her spouse. No highborn gargoyle female could avoid marriage completely, even one with her circumstances of birth, but he was offering to make sure whoever she wed wasn’t completely horrible.

  “They were lovers,” Rhina said. “Geza and my mother.” But even though that was the tale she’d been told, and never questioned, it just didn’t ring true. Not anymore. She’d been around Geza for weeks now, and even though he was notoriously lecherous, there wasn’t any tower gossip regarding females he’d mistreated. Ex-lovers were pensioned off with expensive gifts and not one female had complained in secret whisperings of sexual harassment.

  “Do you believe that?” Tyra asked. “If they had really been lovers, Lavinia would have demanded he marry her. Alexa was too well-ranked.”

  “Lavinia did demand it, and he refused. My mother killed herself in shame.”

  “That’s a very neat story. Or maybe she killed herself because they wouldn’t allow her to be with the male she truly loved. Or maybe she didn’t kill herself at all.”