Spirited_A Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance

by C. M. Stunich

  “A resurrection spell that nobody knew existed, that nobody's ever performed … it's a long shot, Air.”

  “And? What if it never works, Brynn?” he whispered, voice going low and husky with emotion. I wasn't surprised to feel my body react to it. I still loved him, alive or … dead. But I also felt like it was wrong to keep him here. Spirits were … supposed to move on and be reborn, not suffer as they watched those around them live life, grow old, die and then leave them behind. “If it never works, is this not enough?”

  “Don't do this to me right now,” I said, taking a step back and bumping into Vex's chest. He wrapped his huge arms under my wings and around me, hugging me close, infusing me with the hot warmth of his skin. He didn't wear fragrances or scented lotions the way most people in Amerin did. Instead, I could smell the faintest hint of fresh sweat from the heat outside along with something like sunshine and new grass. In that moment, it was intoxicating.

  Air frowned as he rose to his feet, but I reached out and took his hand anyway, shivering at the ice-cold feeling of his fingers in mine.

  “One day at a time, Air,” I told him, knowing that even if it broke me, even if every minute made me sad, made me long for what we could've had … what we already had, that I would never be able to give up on him. I'd rather have Air with me like this than not at all—even if that was the most selfish thought I'd ever had in my life.

  Pulling away from both men, I flexed my wings and glanced back to see Vex doing the same, almost like he was desperate to rub his brown and white feathers against my black ones. As if he could sense the thoughts running through both our heads, Elijah also adjusted the white wings on his back.

  “I think Vexer wants to be a Mr. Rebane,” Talon teased as he sat on the edge of my cedar chest and smirked. I tossed a glare over my shoulder, but it didn't seem to faze the thief. I guess after stealing royal panties, getting hung in the castle courtyard, and living in shadows for five years, not much did.

  But … talking about me having a Mr. Rebane in my life was depressing.

  Air had been about to flubbing ask me to marry him and then he'd … died. I would've been a Mrs. Rebane—women become a Mrs. when they marry one or more men, but they always keep their own last name—while Air, despite his status as crown prince, would've been referred to with my last name as well. But only on those very rare occasions when he wasn't called Airmienan of Hekkett. A god's blessing was always more important than a surname, but there were uses for it; sometimes people just didn't know a person's blessing or else couldn't be bothered with the mouthful of trying to say something like Brynn of Haversey and Hellim every five seconds.

  “Jas and I are moving into special housing on the Royal College campus, so …” I paused as I realized Vex already knew all the secrets. Wow. Poor guy. He'd sort of waded knee-deep into a total shi— into a total poop-fest. I didn't envy him that. “The queen wants us to start working on the resurrection spell as soon as possible.”

  “It's a smart move on her part,” Vex admitted, moving up to stand next to me. “If you think you can pull it off.”

  Staring into the flames I could feel the eyes of all four men … well, one man and three ghosts … boring into my back.

  Could I pull it off?

  I guess I wouldn't know until I tried, now would I?

  There was no etiquette on how to be dead, no books on propriety or social niceties, no way to know if I was doing this right or if I was simply making an ass out of myself.

  “You're positive that this is how you learned to pick things up?” I asked Elijah as he slouched lazily on 'his' bed in the room my mother had set aside for him. I couldn't decide if she'd given us all our own rooms because she firmly believed in the resurrection spell … or if she was just so hopeless that it made her feel better.

  Dear Grandfather Hekkett, please don’t let that be the case! Give us some divine intervention, please. Please. I’ve never asked you for anything before and you know it.

  Outside, thunder cracked in the clouds like a garbled response from the god himself.

  “Keep trying and eventually …” Elijah shrugged in a loose, easy, casual sort of way that drove me gods-damned close to going insane. Since I could touch another ghost without much trouble, maybe I'd wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze until he gave in? Whenever my mother dragged my sisters and me to Tamma, Eli and I would wrestle in the cool shadows of his family's courtyard.

  I always won.

  But sometimes, in the middle of a particularly long tussle, he'd also fall asleep on me—while in a headlock!

  I glared at him as he sat there with a mouse spirit in his pocket, ghostly fingers resting on the head of a dead dog. All he did was smirk back at me, his lips a sharp curve and his eyes half-lidded and dripping with arrogance.

  Please.

  He'd have made a better prince than I had.

  Am.

  Than I am.

  Fuck. I couldn't let myself start thinking of, well, myself in past tense. That wasn't how one approached a project that needed doing, assuming failure from the start.

  “All I'm doing is waving my fingers back and forth through an unripe peach,” I growled at him, trying not to think of the peach-lemonade I'd purchased for Brynn on our day at the market. That was the last thing I needed to be focused on, especially considering she was planning on going out with that griffin to pick up her Royal College uniform, the one with the handsome white military style jacket and the gold buttons. She'd look stunning in it with all those curves, and although students were welcome to choose between breeches or skirts … I was hoping Brynn would pick the latter.

  My fingers caught on the fruit and squeezed, juice oozing over my see-through skin before a massive wave of fatigue swept over me, and the peach—as well as its sticky blood—spattered on the small wooden tabletop.

  Elijah made a lazy, exaggerated sort of clap and then stood up.

  “Told you that you'd figure it out,” he said as he bumped me with one of his wings and headed for the staircase. I followed along behind him because although I'd enjoyed the occasional alone day when I was alive, the constant echo of my thoughts was maddening, like a booming wave of thunder that never stopped. It was a storm that threatened to steal my spirit and drag me under.

  “Only because you so magnanimously agreed to help,” I quipped, pushing past him and taking the rest of the steps two at a time. Being upstairs with the … coffin made me feel nauseous. And after finally touching my first solid object? That'd already made my head spin. Even dead, body aches were part of … life?

  Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, I looked across the room at Brynn and felt everything inside of me twist up in a tangled mess. My heart felt heavy and empty at the same time, all the mistakes I'd made crashing down on my head like lightning. Just another part of that awful, awful storm.

  Fuck.

  If I hadn't been such a moronic idiot the night we'd first slept together, maybe we'd already be married and none of this would be happening? Of course, you can't predict fate. I might've died either way, but at least she'd have really known how I felt about her. I'd been in love with her for a long time. How long, I wasn't sure, but that night … that'd cemented it for me.

  The problem was, when I'd woken up and marched to my mother's bedchamber to demand one of the royal rings … she'd laughed in my face.

  Eighteen and stupid, is what she'd called me. And while that was probably true, I'd had to hear for two straight years what an impossible match Brynn of Haversey would make. I'd thought the Double Blessing might help, elevate her status enough that Everess would at least consider it.

  She'd refused.

  But I'd stolen the ring anyway, and now look where I was, standing in shadows across the room, too fucked-up to figure out what it was I should say to her, what the Hell I was supposed to do.

  “You don't have to stay all the way over there,” Brynn told me, sitting on the red chaise lounge that served as the receiving couch for g
uests. She was braiding her long white hair, gold eyes watching me as she sat there in a dressing gown so tight and thin that I could see the black lace of her bra and panties underneath. “You can come out and talk to me, Air.”

  Slowly, I moved across the U-shape of the downstairs area, modeled after one of New Akyumen's dozen house plans. The stairs were in the middle of the room with a kitchen behind them, a bedroom on the left and the foyer/common area on the right. Upstairs, there were just enough bedrooms for Talon, Elijah, Jasinda, Brynn, and myself. The scribe—Matz, I think was his name—had the single downstairs bedroom.

  Although … we'd been here several nights now and I hadn't once 'slept' in my own room.

  Instead, I sat up every night and watched Brynn sleep, wracked with nightmares she'd never had before. Nightmares that I'd given her. By trying not to be a coward and refusing to run, had I doomed both of us to an awful living Hell?

  And as much as I wanted to punch that griffin in the throat … the fact that he wasn't allowed on campus was starting to bother me. Brynn … had done much better when he'd held her. I was too cold to do it. That, and I was pretty sure she didn't want me right now.

  “Are you angry?” I asked, moving across the shiny wood floors and accidentally walking right through the small table next to the couch. Damn it. It took a lot of effort to walk straight, without my boots sinking into the floor, and then having to avoid furniture?

  Apparently being a ghost was all about multitasking.

  Hekkett's cock, I hate this! Magic surged through me, hot and vibrant, and I had no idea what to do with it. It tingled in my fingertips and danced there like hot flames, licking at my blue-white skin and making me shiver.

  “I'm not angry, Air,” Brynn said as she worked on finishing the supply list for the spell. It was extensive. She'd started it the day after we'd arrived and had barely taken any breaks. The only time she'd eaten was when Jas put food in front of her or when a messenger came to tell her that Vexer was waiting at the gates.

  Of course, we'd all had to attend their dinner and drinks date at the Travelers' Guild Inn, but it was better than watching her suffer. And knowing that I was causing her suffering was killing me in ways that shadow never could. I'd gladly take that feeling of shock and pain, all of that blood … I'd take it every damn day to spare Brynn an ounce of this heartache.

  “That morning,” I told her, even though I knew Elijah was listening, leaning against the wall and spreading his wings out straight on either side of him. “I'd planned on asking you.”

  “What?” Brynn asked, her normally vibrant, carefree nature obliterated by the All Haunts' Eve disaster. I was afraid that no matter what happened with this spell, that I'd never see the same person in her eyes again and that … that destroyed me.

  “The morning after we first slept together,” I said, stepping back out of the table and leveling myself against the floor. I hadn't bothered to tell her I was taking a birth control potion? She'd thought she had to go by herself, that I would do that to her? Gods. I was a right proper asshole, wasn't I? “I was going to ask you to marry me then.”

  Brynn's gold eyes flicked up to mine, but now they looked … terrified.

  “You were not,” she said, her breath hissing out as she stood up and grabbed the loose black silk dress off the chaise lounge, slipping it over her head with a sigh. “I don't believe you.”

  “I wouldn't lie to you,” I told her with gritted teeth as she turned her attention back to the list and picked it up off the table, rolling the parchment and tying it with twine. “Brynn, I tried to get a ring from my mother and she said no.” I saw her stiffen then, but I wasn't done with the story. I wasn't going to be done until I'd laid it all out. It felt … almost meaningless at this point, but it was all I had left. Words were all I had left. And if something happened, if I found myself exorcised, then at least she'd know the truth. “I was upset, but I wasn't going to let that stop me. I went looking for you, planning to propose anyway, but when I finally found you … you were upset and sullen and … neither of us brought it up. I couldn't. I tried, but … I'm not good at communicating with you, Brynn.”

  She just stood there for several long moments and stared at me like I was insane.

  “I didn't know the right words then, but I know them now.”

  “Uh-oh,” Talon said from somewhere in the kitchen area. “Maybe this is something I don't want to hear?” I flicked my eyes his direction and curled my lip, waiting until he'd floated up and through the ceiling before turning back to look at Brynn.

  “Haversey's cunt,” Elijah cursed from behind me, and then he made a show of pounding up the stairs in his boots. Show-off. I looked back at Brynn, her hand trembling as it clutched the scroll, eyes wide and mouth agape.

  This is not how I wanted this moment to go, I thought as I imagined the feel of her warm, curvy body in my arms, swaying across the dance floor at the Vibrant. She'd pressed her head against me and let me hold her so damn tight …

  A knock at the door made us both pause and turn toward the sound.

  Matz, the scribe and Brynn’s and Jasinda's new assistant, moved into the room warily, like he expected ghosts at every corner. If I'd had the strength to poke him in the ear with a cold finger and shout Boo!, I'd have done it in a heartbeat. Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for him to leave.

  “The list is done,” Brynn said with a long sigh, moving over to him and slipping her feet into her boots. She handed the scroll to Matz and then turned to face him, folding her ebony wings tightly against her back. “Some of these things are going to be hard to come by, but I added notes on where I think you can find most of them. Other items on the list … I'll have to deal with myself. I've starred those, so don't worry about them.”

  Matz nodded, his face neutral despite the fact that he was both a noble and a fifth-year being ordered around by a first-year who'd just barely gotten into the academy. Good for him. If I saw any disrespect leveled in Brynn's direction, there'd be Hell to pay.

  “I'll get started on this right now,” he said, not even bothering to remove his coat and heading back out the front door. It was raining right now, a spring shower that made me feel even less connected to this world than the sunshine of the last few days. No, I couldn't feel its warmth on my skin but at least everything was bright and sunny and cheerful. The rain … it slid right through me, hit home the fact that I was as insignificant as my namesake, nothing but air.

  “What are the words then?” Brynn asked as she flicked the lock on the door and turned to face me, leaning her back against it. Gold eyes met mine and stole my breath away.

  Well, at least it would have if I'd had any breath to give …

  Damn it, Air, focus!

  Lifting my chin, I steeled myself for rejection—just in case.

  “I love you,” I told Brynn, and it felt like shackles were being slid off my wrists and left to rust on the floor.

  For a moment there … I felt weightless.

  “How am I supposed to gossip when they're standing right there?” I ground out through my teeth, waiting for the seamstress to finish flubbing around with my skirt. I hadn't really wanted any skirts considering my propensity for toppling over, but Jas insisted I get an even mix of pants and skirts. That, and I knew Air liked them.

  Flub.

  Flub, flub, flub!

  'I love you,' he'd said. Like, how was I supposed to react to that?

  “Just … whisper and glare at them to make sure they're staying put,” Jasinda said as she craned her neck around the dressing screen and narrowed her eyes … in the complete opposite direction of where all three spirits were sitting. It was appreciated, but also sort of funny. Or it would've been funny if the seamstress hadn't just purposely stabbed me in the thigh with a needle.

  “Flub!” I griped as I rubbed at my backside and the woman gave me a look that was twice as scary as Mrs. Grandberg had been.

  “If you move, I stab you. It's as simple as
that,” she barked, her raven-dark hair twisted up in a bun on her head. Yep, Amerin through and through. Completely human. One hundred percent arrogant blitz. “And maybe you should lay off of the fruit and jelly rolls because your cheeks are …” The woman paused and made a shape in the air that might've been offensive if Vex hadn't been standing so close, and if he hadn't growled.

  Oh, and also if the man I'd wanted my entire life hadn't just confessed his love to me after he was dead.

  But Heaven's holy hallelujah, I squealed inside, closing my eyes and trying to hold stone-still. The sooner I got this fitting over with, the better. For years, I'd entertained secret fantasies about getting fitted for a Royal College uniform. Even though I hadn't much cared about actually attending the school, I wanted the flubbing outfit.

  Opening my eyes back up, I stared at myself in the mirror, the chatter of dozens of other students filling the small, crowded shop. The top of the uniform was the same for everyone: a coat styled after the Amerin military, made of wool and topped with leather shoulders, a row of gold buttons down the front, and a pocket over the left breast. The style was the same for every student, but the color depended on the year. First-years wore white. Frankly, I was a little excited about that because not only did the uniform match my hair, but it also looked striking against the bronze of my skin.

  Side-button boots—in black—were mandatory for every student as well, but male or female, we all had a choice in whether we wanted to wear black breeches or a pleated black skirt on any given day.

  “You look adorable,” Jasinda said when the seamstress muttered something about my seriously big butt—I'm sorry to say this, but she was a total witch with a B—and stood up, leaving me to study my reflection.