Stone Prince

by Emma Alisyn

  “No other Fae magic?”

  “Not unless it’s latent. She’s mostly gargoyle, with Fae phenotype—Fae features. The glamour is the strongest trait from her father’s heritage.”

  “That’s enough,” he said, satisfied. “Thank you.”

  She hesitated. “Look, I know what it’s like to grow up half-blood in a friggin’ noble gargoyle house. I know you have a hard-on because she threatened Bea, but she didn’t have any choice. There’s no place in our society for a disobedient daughter, and especially not one like us.” Unspoken was the understanding that Lavinia Mogren would likely have just put Moghrenna to death if she’d refused to take the place in the family set aside for her.

  “I can understand,” he said. “That doesn’t mean I have to forgive or forget.”

  Geza commed his sister, pausing when her face appeared on the screen, wild-eyed and far too angry for him to be the sole cause.

  “Why is everyone bugging me today?” she asked in a snarl. “What do you want, Geza?”

  He ran his tongue along his teeth. He was her Prince. He really shouldn’t tolerate that tone of voice from her. He tucked his wings close to his back and said nothing, because he was a wise ruler.

  “I want you to find out who Moghrenna’s father is.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “That requires access to Fae databases. I can send off a request to one of their labs and have them do it.”

  “I’d rather keep the inquiry, and the results, private.”

  “So private you’re having it done without permission from the subject? Do you know how many legal and ethical lines that crosses?”

  “She’s guilty of a crime against the state. Fudge it. Call it evidence, or something.”

  “You have to talk to the Fae embassy. I’m not doing it; I have enough shit to do. You get me a signed doc, and I’ll make the request through official channels.”

  “No, not official. Don’t you have contacts?”

  Her lip drew up over her teeth where a fang should have been if she’d ever been able to shift. “I’m not burning a favor for you. I don’t like you that much.”

  He sniffed. “Fine. Name your price.”

  Surah snorted and signed off.

  He knew his sister well enough to know it was agreement and hoped she didn’t demand anything too ridiculous from him. The last time had involved a practical joke, a Councilor, and several weeks of reparations. He’d made the mistake of thinking when she called in a favor it would be for money, or free time in the city without guards, or any other madness she normally wasn’t allowed to do. Perhaps because she was a mother and wife, now, and behaving like a proper female, she’d ask for something more traditional.

  Right.

  This was important, though. Not only to fully understand who Moghrenna was. He had plans, and those plans could hinge on the identity of her father. Because if he knew females, and Mogrens, and Alexa . . . Moghrenna’s father could very well be a vital factor in the success of Geza’s plans.

  He intended to pay his debt of friendship to Alexa, and in a method that had taken him by surprise when he’d realized where his thoughts were heading. The more Geza considered the idea, turned it over and analyzed all the jagged bits and possible complications, the more he was intrigued as a picture began to settle into his mind.

  He’d wanted a female who understood the court.

  He’d wanted a female who could survive the multiple attempts on his life through his tenure as rule.

  He’d wanted a female who would excite, challenge, and intrigue him. One with beauty, intelligence, and ruthlessness but also a strong sense of loyalty.

  The perfect female was in front of him. She had major issues. The kinds of issues that fucked up lesser beings and made them useless. To survive what she had survived with her sense of loyalty and compassion intact, and even a glimmer of conscience . . . impressive.

  Malin would kill him. Surah . . . he probably couldn’t count on her support. Niko would also have a fit, but his resistance would be eliminated as soon as Geza got Bea on his side—she’d take care of the male on behalf of her Prince.

  First, he needed to know who Moghrenna’s father was. If the connection could be utilized, or if it should be buried. He didn’t need her other bloodline coming back to bite them both in the ass and rip off their wings in mid-flight over an ocean.

  Rhina moved her desk next to the female assigned to babysit her to make it easier on the child. And so Rhina could attempt to monitor who was monitoring her, who the female was reporting to.

  “Did they tell you why you’re watching me?” Rhina asked, after settling at her desk.

  The gargoyle just stared at her, silent, having watched and done nothing the entire time Rhina dragged the desk and her chair across the room.

  Dark eyes widened a bit. “Watching you?”

  Rhina snorted. “How new are you? Never mind. What’s your name?”

  “Leesa.”

  “Leesa. Okay, Leesa, I’m going to help you do your job. They didn’t tell you anything about me, only to keep an eye out and report. That’s stupid, and an insult to you.”

  She tilted her head. Her medium-dark hair was slicked back at her nape in a neat bun since the warrior in trainman females refused to cut it. No gargoyle female would—they grew their hair out since childhood. “Okay,” Leesa said. “I’m listening.”

  “I’m guessing they told you just to let them know if I try to leave, or if I have any interesting conversations. That’s dumb—I’m not going to try to leave and if I did, I’m aware I’d need to kill all of you first to give myself a few minutes head start.”

  Leesa sat back in her chair studying Rhina, saying nothing. Good girl. Silence was always the first indication of an intelligent mind.

  “Second, I’m not going to make any communications that are suspicious in a method that would be easily reportable. Also, them not telling you that I’m armed and extremely dangerous hamstrings you. Because you don’t know the most important thing about me.”

  “What is that?”

  “That if I wanted to escape, I would have. If I wanted you dead, you would be. At least if you already knew that, it would give you a small window of opportunity to fight back.”

  Leesa continued to stare at her, eyes having gone cool. “You aren’t human, are you?”

  “Not a drop, honey. Let's make a deal. If I decide to escape, you’ll stay in your seat, your hands on the desk until I clear the door, and you’ll count to sixty seconds.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because if you give me your word, then I won’t kill you. You’ll live to report. I’ll need that sixty-second head start to avoid bloodshed. That’s the best thing you can do here right now. Do you understand?”

  “I’ll have to tell my commander.”

  Rhina shrugged. “No problem. It will be the most interesting thing you’ll have to report.”

  “She said what?” Niko exclaimed.

  Kausar grunted. “She was sending a message.”

  “I’d like to send her a message.”

  “I wouldn’t. The Prince seems to want her alive.”

  Niko’s teeth ground, but that was the crux. If the Prince wanted the female alive, alive she would stay. Damned if he had to like it.

  “You need to stop taunting my security,” Geza said. He’d walked into the room, and she’d pretended not to notice he was present. He suppressed a snort.

  Rhina looked up from her work after a moment and focused on him. “Excuse me?”

  He stood a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. Hazel eyes regarded him with an adorably cute expression of suspicion and derision mixed with something he suspected, was amusement. It wasn’t the color of her eyes—that was a lie—it was the expression in them. The angle of her head when she watched him. Challenged him with her subtle sarcasm and cool control.

  He wanted to kiss all that control and suspicion out of her. Well, more than kiss. Resigned, he began to acce
pt the inevitable. “You heard me. Come on, we’re taking a break. I’m sick of listening to everyone whining, and I’m certain you’re tired of sorting through files.”

  “I’m not certain how I got roped into your matchmaking business when I was hired to help stage a ball.” She rose, confining her complaints to the nature of the work. “By the way, do you really think sending a garling to babysit me is going to make any difference?”

  He snorted and turned, striding into his office and onto the balcony, Rhina behind him. He felt her at his back, and controlled an instinctive flinch. She was dangerous and he didn’t like dangerous at his back. He preferred it, if it were female, underneath him. Helpless, writhing in pleasure. Submissive.

  “Shed the glamour,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m not carrying you this time.”

  “Does Sir Nikolau know we’re leaving? He’s not going to like it.”

  Geza’s wings spread, and he launched. “Then it's fortunate I’m the boss here, and not him.”

  18

  They flew towards the fairgrounds, the sparkling lights of the carnival twinkling in the dark. Though she dropped the glamour to appear human, Rhina masked her true features, so she looked like an average dark-eyed, dark-haired, moderately attractive female the Prince might be seen out with for a casual bit of fun, but nothing extraordinary or worth attention.

  Guards were in the air above and below, at a discreet distance, but still present. That was his life, she knew, to live without any form of true privacy. He was monitored even when in his personal suite—she knew from experience. Whoever he married would have to have a spine of steel to put up with that constant, low-level background intrusion.

  They landed, Rhina just as perplexed with him as she was with herself. Well, maybe not as perplexed with him. Geza was known to be a wild card, and fun was his middle name. Why was she going along with his mad schemes as if they were friends?

  “The look on your face,” he said, watching her. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m considering the possibility that my mind has fractured.”

  His brows rose and he paused a moment before speaking. “I’m pretty sure you’re already a little crazy, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  Rhina shrugged. “Why are we here?”

  Geza reached out and grabbed her wrist. “To have fun, female. Have you ever been to a carnival?”

  Rhina watched as he shifted from his gargoyle form to his human. Impressive. Holding the human form at night was like holding breath underwater. She was used to it. As he morphed into an olive-skinned, tall, human male, Rhina also tucked her gargoyle shape away, though her wingless form she kept concealed with glamour.

  “You know your other half isn’t human, right?” he asked.

  “If I didn’t know, this would be a piss-poor way of breaking the news.”

  “True.” His head tilted. “You know what you are?”

  Something in his voice alerted her. Rhina’s eyes narrowed. “Evidently, so do you. What did you do, Geza?”

  “How about cotton candy?” He turned, tugging her along. She dug her heels in, deadening her body weight, but he ignored her, his greater strength propelling her along. She couldn’t counter it, of course, not without making a scene and offending his bodyguards.

  “What did you do, Geza?”

  “I may have had your blood analyzed. Or maybe funnel cakes. I know treats are traditionally after rides, but we’re adults. We can have dessert first.”

  “I’m an adult, you are a child. Why would you do that without my permission?”

  He stopped, turned towards her. “Are you mad? Some females are beautiful when they’re mad, but I’m sure you’re just more homicidal. Wouldn’t be a good look for you.”

  Rhina thought about his words and the tone in which he delivered them. “You really don’t care, do you? What I am, who.”

  Geza shrugged. “Death threats are a fact of life. It just happened to be personal for you, but that wasn’t your fault. Besides, I like a challenge.”

  He began moving again, not relinquishing her wrist. She didn’t know how she felt about it, and that troubled her. Her skin should be crawling. There was, in fact, a sense of unease causing her shoulders to stiffen. But not outright disgust.

  “I don’t think I hate you anymore,” she murmured. “Odd.”

  Geza sighed as he approached a funnel cake vendor. “It's impossible to hate me. I’m too charming. Besides, you know I’m not lying to you. I didn’t have anything to do with Alexa’s death. I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it.”

  What she needed was to talk to Tyra, but she didn’t dare contact her cousin. Not yet. She hoped the female was smart enough to stay put and not venture out, worried because she hadn’t heard from Moghrenna in a few days.

  “Would you allow me to contact someone? A sign of good faith?”

  He paid for the funnel cake, having to actually relinquish his grip on her wrist to complete the transaction, but moved in close, slightly behind her so his shoulder nudged hers, like he was herding her along.

  Geza ripped off a section of the powder-coated fried . . . thing . . . and handed it to her.

  “Napkins are not allowed,” he said. “You have to lick your fingers.”

  “That’s savage.”

  “Just go with it. Trust me.”

  She grimaced, because she knew he wasn’t kidding, but bit into the food-like substance and chewed. It tasted like cooked oil, sugar, and flour.

  “I don’t get it.”

  Geza peered down into her face. “You don’t like it? Well, fine. We’ll find you something else.” He looked around the carnival. They weaved in between the crowds, Rhina keeping an eye on the crowd as a matter of course. She wasn’t tense, her nerves weren’t so neurotic she saw an enemy behind every smiling soccer mom. However she was, as a professional consequence, constantly cataloging her surroundings.

  Geza noticed and seemed pleased. “You never shut off do you?” he asked. “Even when relaxing, you can handle security.”

  “It's what I was trained to do.”

  “I know.”

  Why did he sound so smug? His behavior the last several days had been very odd, unless she considered him in terms of a future employer. She’d been head hunkered before by rival clans, even rulers of other species.

  “You want me to work for you, don’t you?” It would make sense. Him wanting to keep her alive, his seeming ability to forgive her attempt on his life as professional matter and not personal–even though it was personal. If he wanted her to be his assassin, his behavior made sense.

  “You think I want you to work for me?’ he asked, sounding amused. “That’s one way of looking at it. And not unreasonable.”

  “So you aren’t going to try and recruit me?”

  He glanced at her. “If I did try, would you bite?”

  His people wouldn't trust her for a very long time, maybe forever. Did that bother her? Not a bit. Was that the life she wanted for herself? Hmm . . . up until now, she hadn’t really considered she could have a life. If Geza was innocent of her mother’s death. . .besides that his conduct as ruler of his people wasn’t so rotten. No worse than Lavinia's. She didn’t really share the Mogren view of blood domination. That would be the height of hypocrisy. One thing didn’t make sense.

  “Why would you have my DNA analyzed? What does it matter what I am?”

  He didn’t answer; instead, they polished off the nasty, little funnel cake and approached a ticket vendor.

  “They still use paper tickets,” he said. “That’s why I like this carnival. It’s nostalgic.”

  What did an Ioveanu know about nostalgic? She refrained from asking the question.

  “Do you know,” she said, looking around, “this is the first time I’ve been to a carnival?”

  Geza stopped, looked at her. “I know,” he said, voice soft, eyes hard. “That’s a crime.”

  He stopped at a vendor of chocolate covered everythin
g.

  “You like chocolate,” Geza said.

  “How do you know that?”

  The Prince glanced at her. “Remember when I brought you a box? The second summer you accompanied Alexa to court.”

  “My sixteenth birthday,” she murmured. The Prince had learned it was her birthday and had personally delivered chocolates, in a heart-shaped box, and flowers. At sixteen, a girl of high birth would have been presented in court, and her parents would have begun making betrothal inquires for her wedding by age twenty-two. But, Moghrenna was the unsanctioned daughter of a non-gargoyle father, and if Lavinia had had any alliance designs in mind for her, they’d never come to fruition.

  Besides her mother, he’d been the only person to offer even a token celebration. When he’d presented her with the gifts, she’d looked in his face and knew he understood why she wasn’t being presented. And didn’t hold it against her.

  “Chocolate-covered Twinkie?” he asked, sounding intrigued.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Live a little.” He purchased it for her, and then made her take at least one bite of the hot, greasy, cloyingly sweet confection. The chocolate was divine, but the object it covered was a sacrilege.

  “You should declare blood feud over this,” she said, disgusted. “Who would ruin decent chocolate by making it cover an abomination?”

  “You’re high maintenance,” he replied. “I thought I’d found the one female who would be easy to please, but I should have known better.”

  “Why are you concerned about whether or not I’m pleased?”

  He didn’t answer that question, watching her lick dark sweetness from her finger and lips. “You really do like chocolate.”

  She flicked a glance at him and paused. His eyes had darkened, body a little too still for the situation. He watched her unblinkingly, eyes following the movement of her tongue.

  “Stop staring,” she said sharply, and stepped back.

  He followed her. “You missed a spot. Did you mean to leave some for me?”