The Princess and the Laird

by C. A. Szarek

  “I need to get you back to your rooms, so when this mess is discovered, you can look innocent. By the Goddess, Your Highness, what were you thinking?”

  “You said not to say anything.”

  He narrowed his violet eyes and pumped his wings hard. Looked away from her as if he couldn’t endure otherwise.

  Alana said the invisibility spell she’d used in order to gain access to open the Faery Stones. It would hide them both in flight. Her heart rebounded against her ribs.

  What was she going to do?

  What can I say?

  Xander hadn’t forgiven her for their joint trip the Human Realm; there was no way he’d understand her drive—her desperate need—to see Alex again.

  She magically clouded her mind so he wouldn’t hear her thoughts. It might help him understand, but when he was so angry, it wouldn’t be of any assistance.

  “How did you get out?” he demanded, right above her ear.

  “The winding stairwell behind the hearth in my sleeping room. Whichever mage Father used to seal my suit didn’t spell it. It was a longshot, but it worked. How did you know I was gone?”

  “I brought your morning meal and you weren’t in your rooms. I assumed the rest.” The words were a low urgent growl and he gritted his teeth.

  “I wasn’t gone long.”

  “Through the kitchen tunnels, then?” he asked, ignoring her statement.

  “Aye.”

  Her cousin’s voice lost its angry edge, but it was only temporary. Her gut shouted as much.

  The secret passageways that ran beneath the palace were dank and smelled of old dirt, but Xander pulled her through at such a speed they didn’t have time to offend her lungs.

  The dark walls of packed earth were a blur, and soon he was pushing the ancient door behind her fireplace shut with touch and a strength spellword.

  He only needed the magic because he hadn’t put her down yet, but that quickly came to an end when her cousin dumped her unceremoniously on her bed. Xander growled, glared and started to pace. “Explain. Now.”

  Alana sighed and righted herself. Pulled her mantle off and tossed it on the trunk at the end of her bed. “Good thing I’m wearing trews. You would’ve made me indecent.”

  He narrowed his eyes again.

  Obviously her cousin didn’t appreciate her small jest or the attempt to diffuse his ire. Nor did it appear to work.

  “I’m not hearing what I want to hear.”

  She harrumphed. “In case you forgot, I am the princess. You’re supposed to take orders from me, not the other way around.”

  Amusement darted in his eyes, but it was gone almost as soon as it was born. “Do you not remember your father’s mandate? I’m not allowed to take orders from you anymore. At least for the time being.”

  Alana rolled her eyes.

  “Well,” Xander prompted. His wings shifted, as if he would pump them to rise any second now. His whole form bled irritation and dark emotions rolled over her empathic powers.

  She shuddered, but irritation was better than anger. Perhaps they were getting somewhere? “You know the answer, so why do you stand there and interrogate me?” she snapped.

  He frowned. “The human?”

  Alana lifted her chin. “His name is Alex.”

  Her cousin cursed under his breath, but it was too low to make out.

  “I think we’re fated, Xander.”

  That shut him up, but now his mouth was a hard line. He didn’t say anything. Stopped his movements and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring.

  She took a big breath and reached for the right words. “When Alex and I touch,” her cousin scowled harder, but she ignored him, “I feel something. Almost…magic. But more than that, he feels it too.”

  “He’s human, Alana.”

  “Not wholly so,” she retorted.

  Disbelief darted across his handsome face.

  “I speak the truth. His grandmother, albeit many times removed, was a princess.”

  “Fae?”

  Alana nodded.

  Xander narrowed his eyes. “How many times removed?”

  “I don’t know. But I was planning on visiting the archives.”

  The vast library was in the basement of the palace, but above the dungeons. The head scribe, a lovely older woman name Eirini, adored her. Alana wouldn’t need to bribe or wheedle, or even sneak. She’d be allowed free reign to find whatever information she could about Alex’s princess great grandmother—as long as she hadn’t been erased from the histories.

  Most Fae believed there was no lower lifeform than humans. To breed with one was an embarrassment—not to mention a death sentence, for mother and child. For a princess to do such a thing, banishment would be a gift. And unlikely. Whoever she was, if she left the Fae Realm, she surely never returned. She’d probably fled in secret.

  “You will not leave this suite again.” Another hard command from her bodyguard.

  “Xander—”

  “I mean it. You caused me to harm three of my brothers today. Not to mention forced me to lie to make the guard light. It’s only a matter of time before I’m discovered. Captain Daegus will lash me more than ten times, Your Highness.”

  She winced. “What did you do?”

  “Memory scatter spells.”

  “That’s not so bad.”

  Xander gave her a long look.

  “What? It’s not.”

  “Easily discovered,” her cousin muttered.

  Alana swallowed. “I can’t explain it to you. I can only tell you how I feel here.” She placed her palm over her heart.

  He scoffed. “You do not know him. He’s human.” Her cousin spat the last word as insult.

  “I know.” Heat suffused her cheeks when she remembered Alex’s mouth moving over hers. It didn’t matter that they’d just met.

  It should—even setting all the forbiddeness aside.

  She’d been truthful with him—Alana wanted him. After all these years, she’d finally found the only man she’d wanted to give herself to—completely. And she couldn’t. If Alex had been willing, she would’ve given him her innocence right there on the ridge, in view of anyone who cared to see.

  That desire shouldn’t be floating in her head. It was wrong. Not just because he was human. She’d never been loose with her favors. The dalliances she’d had, had only been after getting to know each man.

  How could she be so drawn to a human?

  A voice whispered that it would do no good—she couldn’t have him, but she ignored it and told her best friend what was in her heart. “He’s for me, cousin. I can’t tell you how or why I know. It’s…fate.” Alana shrugged.

  Alarm was stamped all over his expression. “Goddess, you really believe this.”

  “Aye.”

  Xander restarted his pacing. “Oh, Goddess.” He shook his head, making his thick plait bounce around him like a moving aura. “Fated mates are rare enough amongst our people. This has to be nonsense, Alana.”

  She ignored him and pushed on. Wanted to convince him, as impossible as it seemed. “It’s not nonsense. Maybe this is why I could never entertain a betrothal…”

  He wrenched his head around, and his braid followed like a whip. “Don’t you dare start trying to…justify this foolishness.”

  Alana sighed. “I’m just saying. No Fae man drew me. Ever.”

  “You’re not so old that you’ve met all your choices. Don’t judge by that useless Irish Prince, Seamus.”

  She quirked a small smile. “I wouldn’t dare; I agree. I’m not judging all Fae men by him, of course. But you should take care not to speak as such about royalty, even if everyone agrees, and he’s not from our Court.”

  Xander paused. “Why? Are not your rooms magically soundproofed?”

  “Oh, aye. I reinforced the spells before I left so Rannick wouldn’t catch me. I’m just saying.”

  He tugged his plait, something he only did when he was agitated.

  “What can I say
to make you know I speak true, cousin? I speak of what I feel inside,” she whispered.

  “How do you know about his supposed Fae blood?” he shot back, stopping at her bedside.

  Alana flushed to her toes and wanted to avert her eyes, but didn’t look away from the gaze that matched her own. Xander wasn’t going to like her answer. At. All. But she wouldn’t lie to him. “I told him who I am.”

  After an audible intake of the obviously shocked breath, her cousin smashed his eyes shut and stood very still. His wings vibrated. When he finally spoke, it was a string of curses in Fae. Low. Deadly.

  “There’s nothing you can say to me that I do not know, cousin,” she said.

  “Then do not be a fool.” He started pacing again. His wide shoulders shook as hard as his wings and he wore a path on her shiny marbled floor. Xander started ranting, repeating everything she’d assured him she was aware of.

  Every caution, every black promise that wasn’t far from the truth. Things he didn’t have the power to keep her from. Things that made them both shake in fear.

  The more he talked, the more doom settled over Alana. She couldn’t have Alex. Hearing her cousin confirm it just made her feel worse.

  “You don’t have to worry, anyway.” She pushed the words out, low but clear. Misery settled over her and she wanted to sink into her bed.

  The look on Alex’s face when she’d said goodbye had just about obliterated her. Made her want to take the words back immediately, vow she’d come back to him. Be with him.

  Stay with him.

  Alana’s head and gut agreed with everything her cousin was raving about.

  Too bad her heart refused.

  Concern crossed Xander’s expression, but it was much preferred to anger. “What happened? Did he hurt you?”

  She shook her head. “Nay.” Tears burned, were born and spilled. She couldn’t help it, and she didn’t bother trying to wipe them away, there would only be more.

  “Alana?”

  “I hurt him, Xander. I hurt myself, too.”

  “What d’you mean?”

  “I said goodbye.” Alana hated that there was relief in her cousin’s eyes. Her chest was so tight every breath was a dagger to her soul.

  Chapter Seven

  The Beltane celebration was going on around her, yet all she could see…all she could feel, was a misery so great it threatened to consume her.

  The opulence of her surroundings was suffocating—so many jewels on display, the sheen and shine from bouncing light was bound to give Alana a headache. Spinning gemmed chandeliers, encrusted serving wear—even the eating utensils.

  Glimmery tablecloths, magically infused with extra shimmer—it was all bound to make her hurl what little food she’d shoved down.

  She preferred her punishment rations of soup and bread to the glamorous stuffed swine, duck and swan on display as the residents and the guests of the palace ate.

  If she’d ever wanted to run away, the urge had never been greater than it was at the moment. And she’d always enjoyed feasts.

  After her last jaunt to see Alex, and Xander’s rescue in the Field of Light, her cousin had made her vow she wouldn’t try again. They’d not gotten caught, despite the spells they’d both used.

  The explosion had been explained as a trick by unknown lads in official reports—Goddess knew where that idea had come from.

  The memory charms and scatter spells had worked—nothing else was said officially; or unofficially that her cousin had been able to discover from warrior chatter. If any of the three Fae Warriors had remembered anything, they must’ve been too embarrassed to report waking up on the ground while on duty. More likely, they feared punishment from Captain Daegus and had formed a pact of silence.

  Xander stood very much in her periphery, hovering and shooting her disapproving looks from time to time.

  She tried to ignore him, and his not-so-subtle visual admonitions.

  Act normal. Her cousin’s voice was in her head, not in her ears. He’d spoken telepathically, and shoved through her mind-barriers.

  Alana didn’t acknowledge him. Just swirled sweet red wine around in her golden-jeweled goblet. She’d already had three full glasses. Shouldn’t imbibe any more, even if it might numb the hurt. Then again, it hadn’t worked so far, other than wiping out the mental strength to rebuild her walls, although she should try.

  Mind reading wasn’t an unusual Fae trait, especially with the strong magic of so many nobles present for Beltane, most in the great hall right now. Entourages from Wales, England, and Ireland were attendance, in addition to all the members of the Scottish Court. The best of the bloodlines, her father had boasted in his welcome speech not thirty minutes before.

  She didn’t need anyone else knowing why she was so melancholy, especially by plucking it from her thoughts.

  A fortnight.

  It’d been two whole weeks since she’d seen Alex MacLeod on her second stolen visit to the Human Realm.

  “Who’s Alex MacLeod?” The Irish Crown Prince, Seamus, sidled up to her, winking as he bit into a plump shiny pink fruit from the blue-barked Sùbh tree.

  He didn’t bow, which was rather rude, considering who she was. Not surprising, considering the source.

  Alarm shimmied down her spine and Alana straightened. She hastily rebuilt her mental blocks and internally shouted the spellword that would keep Prince Seamus—and anyone else—out of her head.

  Xander, who’d always had excellent hearing, shot a murderous look in their direction; although she couldn’t be certain if it was for her or the prince.

  Or both.

  She swallowed a gulp and cleared her throat, forcing a smile. “Excuse me, Your Highness?”

  About a decade her senior, Seamus was sinfully handsome, which made her skin crawl with extra vigor since good looks were so wasted on him. His eyes were a crystal clear light green hue, and alluring. There was no doubt why he commanded most of the female population.

  His hair was loose today and fell around his shoulders in ebony waves. But she wasn’t tempted to touch them, unless yanking counted. Alana had always been of the opinion that his hair was as crooked as he was, since the almost-curl was natural.

  The prince was tall and broad, and had as much muscle as the average Scottish winged Fae Warrior. She’d never seen him fight, but it was rumored he could hold his own with a sword.

  He was dressed as finely as she’d always seen him—the heir to the Irish throne was as arrogant as royalty came. Prince Seamus wore the greens of his lands from head to foot—his leine matched his eyes, and his over-doublet was embroidered and shiny, with twinkling emeralds lining the whole thing. His trews were a richer shade of green and tight—no doubt with a purpose to display his personal jewels.

  She refused to glance down, because he’d love the perusal and get the wrong idea.

  Very very wrong.

  “Who is Alex MacLeod?” the prince repeated, flashing an irritating dimpled smile that made him even better looking. He dropped his voice and bowed with a flourish, as if realizing he’d not greeted her properly.

  She tried not to roll her eyes and bit back an order for him to go away.

  Seamus extended his hand, obviously wanting to offer her a customary kiss on the knuckles and Alana shuddered for reasons other than his dooming repetition.

  She didn’t want his lips on her, but she couldn’t be outwardly rude, especially considering what he’d gotten from her thoughts. She needed to come up with a plausible explanation. Quickly. So he’d go away.

  Because of their difference in station, Xander couldn’t save her, either. He’d come closer to chaperone, as was appropriate as her bodyguard, but he wouldn’t interfere unless her life was in danger.

  Alana slid shaking fingers into the Irish prince’s grip, and he lavished her knuckles with several presses of soft lips. When he licked her, she yanked back, but Seamus chuckled, his eyes gleaming.

  I should slap him.

  She couldn’
t cause a scene at the ball. Her father had warned her that morning. He’d invaded her rooms and even promised to watch her. It’d be more like him to have spies reporting back to him, but no matter; she needed to be on her best behavior.

  Alana inhaled and released her breath slowly. Twice. Clenched her jaw and forced a curt nod. “Good evening, Your Highness.”

  He looked even more amused.

  Wretch.

  Xander’s gaze shot daggers at Seamus. Her cousin must’ve caught sight of the bastard’s slimy tongue on her.

  “Are you enjoying the feast, Sir Xander?” the prince asked. “King Fillan is so very generous.” He tossed the half-eaten Sùbh fruit from one hand to the other, then threw it down on the table she sat at. His tone was conversational, normal.

  Alana swallowed. She’d expected him to repeat his question for the third time. Why was he holding back now? He had to be scheming.

  Her cousin narrowed his eyes, but nodded. He too, was covered from head to foot in finery. Instead of his normal hunter-green chest-plate, Xander wore one made of gold, embossed with the Scottish Court’s Seal. His silver epaulets denoted his place in the royal guard, and as her protector.

  His trews were also gold, making the platinum hue of his thick warrior braid even more fitting, as if it was an accessory. At his waist, he wore a decorative golden-hilted dirk, but her cousin was as deadly with the smaller blade as his oversized broad sword.

  “Ah, never a man of many words,” Seamus mused. His vibrant eyes settled on her. “Care to dance, Your Highness?”

  Her gut shouted something like, no way in Five Hells, but she reached for manners and stood from her chair. Alana inclined her head and offered a hand. “As you wish, Your Highness.” She was proud of herself for not lying and telling him she’d be fond of dancing with him.

  The prince’s eyes glinted with obvious desire and bile rose in her throat. He gave her a leering onceover and she fought the urge to fidget in her lavish royal purple gown. It had an open back and a low-cut bodice. Her shoulders were exposed as well, and she wished she was covered to her neck with yards of fabric.