Wicked Prince: Book Two in the Territorial Mates Series

by Twomey, Mary E.

  “He’s noble. How about Prince Justice? Is he a good man?”

  I shrug. It doesn’t bother me to talk about Alex or Salem in bed with her, but Justice? I don’t want his mug swimming around in my head before I drift off. “Of course. You’ll be safe in Jacoba.”

  Her hand slips from my chest. “I can tell that’s not true.” It’s not a hostile accusation, but an observation as she shakes out her hand. “The ring practically bounced off your chest just now. It can tell when you’re lying.”

  I frown down at the white gold band and lavender stone. “Pesky bugger. I should’ve bought you a regular ring with no hints of magic. Then I could lie and tell you no one will ever come up against you. There are no wars. There is nothing that can hurt us.”

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me more.”

  “How about I tell you that it’s time to sleep, and conversations like these are only going to keep you awake.”

  Her hand migrates back to my chest, where it belongs. I grip her wrist so I can kiss her fingertips. Each kiss melts away a little of her unease as her body relaxes once more against mine. “You’re probably right.”

  “I usually am. Annoying habit of mine. Goodnight, blue eyes.”

  She pecks my cheek and says quietly, “Goodnight, teddy bear.”

  I hate the nickname, but I am completely and wholly in love with her.

  I can only hope that one day, my people won’t spend their time shouting for my wife’s swift death.

  2

  Waltz and Warning

  Lilya

  I hold up my hand to stave off Des’ forthcoming protest. “I’ve got fancy dresses packed in my suitcase. I’m not traveling in those. If someone aims an arrow at you, I don’t want to trip when I knock them out. Undermines the whole don’t-mess-with-my-man thing if I fall on my face.”

  Des sniggers, as if I’m trying to be funny or something. Jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt are the way to travel, plus my dagger with silver spikes ready to foist out from the hilt strapped to my thigh holster. “Alright, but the people are used to Mum when they see royalty. This might take them some getting used to.” He motions to his mother, who’s nursing her third cocktail in the past hour. Melinda looks meticulously put together in her red mid-calf dress, though on the edge of drunk, as she always looks.

  She scoffs in my direction, leaning against the far wall of the receiving room. “They would sooner accept a cow on the throne than that pale abomination.”

  I will myself not to think of all the ways I could retaliate. No one in Drexdenberg knows my magic is defunct; instead of the fruit trees and flowers every other fae can bloom, the only bits of nature I can conjure are poisonous plants. So I pretend I have no magical aptitude at all, that I’m stupid, and tuck away my urge to bloom a plant that could cause boils to sprout all over Melinda’s foul tongue.

  That would be bad.

  It sets Des’ teeth on edge whenever his mother takes a crack at me. I don’t care if she ever likes me, but I hate what it does to Des. I step closer to him, pleading with my eyes for him to let it go. Yesterday featured an hour-long fight over dinner between the two of them when she’d called me her son’s whore.

  I force a smile and pretend we’re only talking about the public, and not his own mother. “They’ll never get used to me. Best be myself.”

  “Wise words, indeed,” Ronin says, strolling through the opened door of the posh room I’ve only seen used for cocktails and subtle needling. He’s wearing pressed black pants, a pinstriped vest over a white dress shirt and a black suit coat with a flash of emerald silk lining I catch sight of as he adjusts his cufflinks. “She’ll be wearing a cloak anyway, Son.” Then to me he adds, “Destino is particular about your attire because he doesn’t want the people to assume you deserve less than any princess of Drexdenberg.”

  I try to keep my attitude in check, but it’s like every day with these people, trying to dress me up, as if that’s the thing that’ll change people’s minds. “Look, if the carriage gets highjacked, I highly doubt the sight of me in a dress will be the thing that gives them pause.”

  I don’t want to go. I’m stalling, and everyone knows it, but I don’t want to get in that carriage. It’ll take me to Faveda, where I don’t want to be. I wish I could keep Lexi without having to see my old homeland.

  Or my father, who thinks I’m dead because he tried to make it so and didn’t stick around to make sure the shifter that attacked me finished the job.

  Melinda saunters past me and pretends to trip, dumping her blood martini down the front of my shirt. “Oops! How clumsy of me.”

  It’s the third time she’s done something like this, and each time, I try not to hate her for it. My hate doesn’t do anyone a lick of good. I hated my father, and he still sits pretty in his position of political prestige. When I hate, it consumes only me, not the person who deserves it.

  I swallow my shriek and hold the hem of my shirt out so I don’t get blood stains on my jeans. “Good thinking, Mommy.” Yeah, she gets real steamed whenever I call her that. “This color clashes with the bags of money I’m stealing from your family. I’ll go change.”

  It’s all I can do to keep my fingers from trembling as I scamper up the steps, leaving behind the sounds of Des and his mother fighting over how she treats me. I feel terrible for Des, championing this losing battle of trying to get her to respect me in any way. The second I cross over into my bedroom and shut the door, I whip my shirt over my head, trying to keep the blood away from my hair. The few guards I passed on my way up here didn’t even raise an eyebrow at my blood-soaked form. It could’ve been a legit attack, and the crimson could’ve been from my own body, but they aren’t worried. I’m sure if I ended up dead, that would make their lives far easier. Benny, Ronin’s head of security, is the only one of them who treats me as if I’m a person worth guarding.

  I take my time dabbing off the wetness from my chest with a washcloth that I’ve sufficiently ruined. I change my bra because that’s a thing I can do now. Des ordered me one in every color, and some are too pretty to touch just yet. I put on a peach one that clashes a little with my hair, but makes me feel spectacular and busty.

  I’m not prepared for a visitor, much less one who doesn’t knock. When Ronin bursts through the bedroom door, I squeak and cross my arms over my chest.

  Ronin stumbles backward, his eyes shooting skyward as he flings the door shut with him on the wrong side of it. “Oh! I’m sorry, Lilya.”

  “Get out!”

  “Yes, I… Hold on. I’ll fix this.” He whirls around and opens the door, but slams it shut again. “Benny’s in the hallway. Here.” He slides off his suit jacket and vest, then unbuttons his shirt and flings it over his shoulder at me.

  “Des bought me some clothes, but thanks.”

  “Yes, but if Melinda sees you in my shirt, she’s less apt to ‘accidentally’ spill something on you again.”

  “Fair point.” I scoop it off the ground and shove my arms into it, buttoning it as quick as my quaking fingers will allow. “Okay, I’m decent.”

  He clears his throat three times before slowly turning, his hands in his pockets and his eyes still on the ceiling. “I do apologize. I assumed you’d be washing off in the bathroom still. I was worried you were upset, so I came up here to…” He shakes his head. “If you could not mention this particular blunder, that would be most helpful.”

  I can’t help my snigger at the pink in his cheeks. “Are you blushing? Well, that’s just about the cutest thing. You look like a boy.” Even his undershirt is pressed and perfect. Sheesh. I’ve never seen him like this, though. I could swear his pajamas are a fancy suit. His expensive pants and undershirt humanize him a little, making him look more like Des.

  “Yes, well, I’m the king, and should know better than to burst into people’s bedrooms unannounced.”

  “I’m dressed, you know. You can look at me.”

  It’s an effort, and the ruddiness in his cheeks onl
y blooms more furiously when his eyes finally descend to land on me. I cross my eyes to break the tension, which serves to loosen his shoulders with an airy laugh. “Are you alright, then? I came up to make sure you were okay, but managed to give myself a heart attack.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. And I’m fine. Nothing I’m not used to. Melinda does something like this just about every day.”

  “Melinda was out of line. When you return to me, I’ll make sure she’s better behaved. I’ve been looking the other way because, well, I killed her husband, but it stops now.”

  I fiddle with the too-long sleeves. “She’ll always hate me because I’m fae. It’s fine. People used to spill their ales on me all the time in the bar. Hilarious.”

  His mouth draws to the side. “That seems like a waste of perfectly good ale.”

  “You forget I was the only fae in Neutral Territory. Not exactly winning any popularity contests. Melinda’s going to have to seriously up her game if she wants to take the prize for most humiliation she can dump out on me. I think I’m shock-proof by now.”

  My smile is flawlessly faked, but Ronin sees right through me. “Is that so?” He clears the gap between us and tugs at my sleeve, straightening it before rolling the cuff a few times so the shirt isn’t as cumbersome. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re terrified to go home.”

  “I’m not going home. Neutral Territory is my home. Here is my home. I’m going to Faveda to visit, is all. It’ll be fine.”

  He’s quiet while he does the same to my other sleeve, taking his time and standing close enough that my lies are too loud to slip by unnoticed. “Destino won’t tell me why you were kicked out of Faveda. Won’t tell me a thing about your upbringing. Not who your parents are, not what crimes you committed to be sent there. Nothing. Either he’s being a very good husband, or he doesn’t know.” His lower lip twitches, and I’m close enough to inhale the fancy cologne scent I love. There are notes of bergamot and fresh citrus in Ronin’s aftershave. “I’m not in the habit of not knowing things, yet it appears that I’m constantly wondering, now that you’re here.”

  I try to smile again, but it’s a bad job. “Well, get used to being all-knowing again, because I’ll be out of your hair in just a few minutes.”

  His mouth firms in a taut line as he folds the sleeve again. “Your education is lacking. Your handwriting is like that of a child. Who failed to raise you properly?”

  It’s not meant to be a dig, but it stings just the same. I was abandoned when I was eight years old. There aren’t exactly primary schools in Neutral Territory. Fiora cared more about what asset my poison-by-plant ability proved than writing lessons and arithmetic and things like that. Numbers only mattered when I was adding up someone’s tab, or measuring out ingredients for a charm. And who cares what a person’s handwriting looks like?

  Instead of letting my underbelly show, I roll my shoulders back and lift my chin. “We don’t need to have this conversation.” I try to jump away from that topic, keeping my tone breezy. “I made extra ugly cookies to hold you over while I’m gone. I know it’s not Des eating them all. Do you want to talk about your nightmares?”

  Ronin’s frown tightens. “Not even a little bit. And I’ll not let you change the subject. I was curious about your background before, but now you’ve got me concerned. How did you get kicked out of Faveda? I checked with the fae prison logs, but there is no Lilya Klein who was charged with a crime who might be your age now. You can’t have been kicked out of Faveda more than a couple years ago. You’re still so young. And they’ve never sent anyone to Neutral Territory that I know of.”

  I listen to him work through his puzzle with no urge to solve it for him. “Sounds like you want to know things that’re none of your business,” I comment without bite in my tone. I am none of his business, except how I conduct myself in his kingdom. I haven’t used my poison to kill anyone in Drexdenberg.

  I haven’t killed anyone that way in a while.

  He walks in a slow circle around me, sizing me up and making me nervous. “What do you know of Faveda as it is today? You’ve been gone from there for so long.”

  I shrug. “Fae are supposed to be perfect. Clean and always wearing spotless white clothes to show off how unaffected they are by work or anything hard. They smile and then snipe. Appearances are important; people are not.”

  “Yes, it seems nothing’s changed since you were there last. Do you know of the affliction they’ve come under in the past two years?”

  I shake my head. “There aren’t any Fae in Neutral Territory, aside from me. Not much news travels from there.”

  “It seems they’ve created something of a problem for themselves. It was supposed to be a monster born of their magic that could fight on their behalf, so they wouldn’t have to get their hands dirty. They call it Gorgonell—an enormous bull with impenetrable, scaly skin. I’m told it’s half the size of a house, and no one can get close enough to kill it.”

  I grimace. “What does it do, gore people to death?”

  Ronin’s eyes bore into mine as he comes full-circle to stand before me. “It turns to stone anyone who looks into its eyes.”

  A gasp flies from my lips. “That’s awful! How did they even go about making something so horrible?”

  “I would say to ask the creature’s creators, but they’ve been turned to stone. The fae have always been curious about pushing the limits of magic. The vampires call it poetic that the Gorgonell never made it out of their territory, but turned on its makers. I’m inclined to agree.”

  Compassion floods me, and I feel terrible for saying disparaging things about them. “How many have been affected?”

  “Dozens? Hundreds? I’m not sure. The Gorgonell comes out at dusk and doesn’t wander far from his cave. There haven’t been any incidents in months, but the fear is always there. Since the creature fears the light, I suspect they used vampire blood in its construction. You can imagine how I feel about that.”

  “I’m guessing you’re not thrilled.”

  “Indeed. When you go to Faveda, I want you to stay away from the Stone Graveyard. That’s the home they’ve given it to keep it far from the living. Promise me.”

  I nod. “Alright. I’m not exactly jonesing to go hang out with someone who can turn me to stone with a single glance. That would put a serious damper on our plans to unite the territories.”

  “That, it would. I want nothing but fun for you, wherever you travel, so stay away from anything that might take you away from me.”

  Ronin’s words are so to the point and grand that my breath stills in my chest. “I don’t know what to say to that. Thank you.”

  “A thank you suffices.” He smirks at the sight of me in his shirt and my jeans. “They’ll throw a grand ball for Prince Alexavier and his fiancée. Do you know how to dance?”

  Ronin takes my hand in his and holds it out to the side, his other touching down on the back of my hip. He starts out in a slow waltz, which I cannot believe I remember. It was so long ago that Lexi and I took lessons for his appearances at the grand balls. I still remember him stepping on my feet and swearing he’s going to outlaw dancing the moment he becomes king.

  Ronin’s face is pleasant as he hums a low tune, lightening the tension as only the sophisticated know how. He turns us in slow circles, though I can tell he’s still deep in thought.

  “Whataya know, I guess I can dance.” Surprise comes out in my tone, and if we weren’t tiptoeing on tenterhooks, I’m sure I’d enjoy the thrill of doing something just for fun.

  “Who are your parents, darling? How did you land in Neutral Territory?”

  “Why, King Ronin Karamathian, you wouldn’t be trying to distract me with a dance to coax personal information from me, would you?”

  His eyes narrow as the pace of our footwork steps up. “You might think I want to know these things because I’m controlling or because I relish driving myself mad.”

  “I do love a good drive.”


  His mouth twitches. “I want to know what you’re walking into. Will you be well-received? Will you show up there and be banished? This plan of ours will do little good if you get there and are kicked back into Neutral Territory straightaway. I know the fae are too delicate for capital punishment, which is the only thought that’s allowed me some rest.”

  The wrinkle between his eyebrows is genuine—I’ve told enough lies in my life to spot the truth easily enough. “You’re truly worried about me.”

  “Is that really so strange?”

  “It’s not normal for a vampire to care what happens to a fae.”

  “I prefer not to curse myself with the burden of being common.”

  I snigger. “You sound like an entitled prick when you talk like that.”

  He tsks as he turns me under his arm and then guides me back into the box step. “I’m not sure you’re allowed to use words like ‘entitled prick’ during a waltz.”

  “Thanks for the tip. When I meet my new father-in-law, I’ll be sure to leave that out.” I drop his hands and step back, casting up a small smile for the gift of the dance. “I should get going. The more travel we can do in the daylight, the better.”

  Ronin catches my wrist as I pass him. He meets my eyes with concern. “You’ll stay away from the Stone Graveyard. You will come back to me, yes?”

  Des gets to see my bruised side. I don’t talk about it, and I’m not even sure he knows what he’s seeing, but there are moments when my smile can’t be faked, and I let him have those moments. I don’t want to give one to Ronin, but it slips out anyway. My smile dissolves and my snark quiets as a portion of the truth bubbles out of my lips before I can stop it. “I truly hope so.”

  With quick and strong hands he cups my face, tipping my chin up so he can examine the things I’m not ready for anyone to see. “You’re terrified. What aren’t you telling me?”

  I lightly shove him away. “Afraid of the fae? I can’t imagine anything sillier.”