by May Dawson
“I’ve got jet-lag,” I said, except my current sense of lag came from moving between worlds and possibly from dealing with exhausting Fae men, “but all right.”
“I have some other errands to attend to while you meet with the king, to make sure you’re ready for tonight,” she said, then glanced at the door again, as if there was a ticking clock for me to go through it. But she smiled at me widely.
I wondered what went into being ready for tonight. Pirate pants probably weren’t going to cut it for the party.
“Thank you, Nikia.” I wasn’t sure if there was something else I was supposed to say, without Azrael here to whisper into my ear. Damn him. He was useful, at least.
I headed toward the door, then stopped and looked back at Nikia. “Do I knock? Just let myself in?”
“He’s expecting you,” she said, which didn’t answer my damn question in the least.
Whatever. I only cared so much right now because I was nervous about coming face-to-face with a twin I didn’t remember. The only way out is through.
I pushed the door open and stepped in.
Inside was a big, comfortable living room. Balcony doors stood open to the sea, which was blindingly bright and blue.
A man with a face that looked eerily like mine came from the balcony into the room, his face brightening with a smile.
I stared at him, my stomach bottoming out with a sudden, bitter ache. I hadn’t entirely believed I had a twin until we were face-to-face. He had my cheekbones and generous lips, although his jawline was sharp and masculine, his face broader. His lavender hair was brushed back from his face.
“Alisa.” His tone was warm with wonder.
“Faer?” I didn’t sound nearly as confident as he did.
“You’re home.” He met me in a few quick strides and wrapped me up in a hug. I was enveloped in the scent of fresh-cut grass and honey. He smelled like summer. “Oh, Alisa. I thought I’d never see you again.”
Maybe coming home wasn’t going to be all bad after all.
The way he seemed to have genuinely missed me warmed my heart, and I wrapped my arms around him without hesitating as much as I had with Nikia.
“I’m sorry I don’t remember you,” I blurted out. “It must be strange.”
“It must be so terrible for you,” he said, pulling away but resting his hands on my shoulders so he could study my face, as if he couldn’t get enough of looking at me. His silvery-gray eyes were definitely not human, and they might have been alarming, but they sparkled and danced with warmth.
“We’ll figure out what happened to your memories. We’ll get them back,” he promised me.
“Thank you. I tried in the human world—I didn’t know who I was or how I got there.”
“Come and sit and have a drink and tell me all about it,” Faer said. He led me onto the expansive balcony, to one of the couches that looked out over the sea. He smiled as he handed me a glass, inclining his head to the ocean. “I’m waiting for an old friend of both of ours to arrive for the dance tonight. I wanted to keep an eye out for his arrival.”
“Oh? An old friend?”
“His name is Raile,” he said, “Not that you would remember him. Not yet.”
He settled himself into the couch, and I sat beside him. He sprawled back, but I sat on the edge, not quite comfortable yet. It was warmer here in the Fae world, and my leather pants and the thick shirt I’d worn for Hunting seemed to cling to my body, as if I weren’t uncomfortable enough already.
I glanced into the crystal goblet he had just handed me. “What is this?”
“Storm wine. A favorite of yours, if I remember correctly.”
I shrugged. It wasn’t as if I disagreed, or could. I took a sip, and something sweet and satisfying and slightly numbing bloomed across my tongue.
I wouldn’t get drunk in the Fae world, not until I understood what lay around me, but one sip had me thinking that I could misspend my twenties here just as well as I had in the mortal world.
I studied Faer’s face. The resemblance was easy to see; his face reminded me of looking in a mirror, except at a masculine version of myself. His jaw was a little bigger. He was slender, but fit.
It felt wrong not to remember my own brother. I’d come to terms with my lack of memories in the mortal world, but here I stumbled with grief over everything I didn’t know.
“How were Azrael and Duncan and Tiron, bringing you home?” he asked.
I didn’t want to get them into trouble, not that they deserved that loyalty, so I evaded the question. “Why did it take you so long to find me?”
Or had Fae scouts found me long before, and this was just the first time I was wanted?
“Truth be told, we thought you were dead,” he said. “It never occurred to me that someone would have hidden you in the mortal world.”
“Do you have any idea who?”
He shook his head. “You and I both have enemies, Alisa. But now we can look out for each other.”
Maybe. “I have another question.”
“Of course.” He sounded warm and generous, the expression on his face open.
There was affection in that gaze, and it made me soften my words. I didn’t want to ruin things with my twin. When he was a stranger to me, everything between us felt strange and tenuous. But he probably didn’t feel awkward and uncertain like I did.
“Why did you send someone I used to have a relationship with?” I asked. “To bring me back? It made things…strange.”
But now I didn’t have to see the brothers or Tiron again. I wasn’t sure if I felt relief or dread at the thought that they’d be gone, and I wouldn’t have to see them again.
“Because Azrael and Duncan and Tiron are the best,” he said simply. “And this was the most important mission I’ve ever sent anyone on.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my sister,” he said. “My twin. The other heir to the throne.”
“Do we rule together?” I asked.
He glanced away at the sea, the wind ruffling his long hair, which fell, thick and lush, to his waist. “From the time we were children, our father trained me to rule. But you always had the answers to his questions, Alisa—at least, you always had half of them.” His lips quirked up. “I always thought we should rule together.”
Something curdled in my stomach at his words.
“We’re twins, right?” I said.
He said slowly, “Inheritance passes to the son in a set of twins.”
“Why?” I asked sharply.
He grinned at that. “Same old Alisa. I love the way you challenge the world.”
Either we weren’t meant to rule together, or he wasn’t sure he wanted to share the throne.
“Azrael implied I was the heir to the throne. The equal heir to the throne,” I said flatly.
He frowned. “You just came home. You didn’t remember our world existed a week ago. Do you even want to rule?”
Did I? I didn’t know how to be their queen. I didn’t even know how to be Alisa of the summer court. But I wanted things to be fair. To be right. And for the inheritance to go to the son, regardless that we were born from the same womb, didn’t seem fair or right.
“Then why did Azrael tell me that you needed me?” I demanded.
“I don’t know why Azrael does many of the things he does,” he admitted. “But he wasn’t wrong, Alisa. I do need you. My sister—my family. I’ve been lost without you.”
The breeze teased his long hair around that serious, concerned face. His eyes were intent on mine.
He was lying to me about something. There were no signs in that beautiful face that I could identify, no tell in his tall, still frame. But maybe some part of me knew him and remembered him.
Because I was sure my twin was lying to my face.
“Surely we make the rules now?” I said. “If you want us to rule together, we will.”
He smiled. “You’re right. Now, we make the rules.”
When he
raised his glass in a toast, I clinked the edge of my goblet with his.
Chapter Twenty
“Take time to rest before tonight’s festivities,” Faer said to me as we reached the door to his apartment.
“About that,” I said. “I’m exhausted. I haven’t even gotten used to this world. Could we do it another night?”
“Everyone wants to celebrate your return, Alisa,” he said gently. “This is part of the duty of the throne.”
Well, that was hard to argue with.
“That sounds all well and good, until I fall asleep with my head in the punch bowl.”
He pulled the door open. “If you start to nod off, I’m sure one of them will poke you.”
One of them? Anticipation ran down my spine as he stepped into the antechamber ahead of me.
Azrael. Duncan. Tiron. The three of them faced us. Their jeans were gone. Instead they wore black tunics and trousers, fitted to reveal their muscular, powerful bodies. They carried their swords openly, strapped to their hips, a curved, bejeweled dagger on the other side of their belts. So, they were some kind of soldiers. Something else they’d neglected to mention, although I could’ve guessed it from the dangerous way they carried themselves.
They sank to their knees, the movement graceful and practiced. I glanced from them to Faer in surprise. I hadn’t expected them to kneel—not to anyone—from what I’d known of them so far.
“Rise,” Faer said, his expression magnanimous. “Thank you for your service and for bringing my sister home.”
His voice was warm, and yet when the three of them rose, they looked at Faer with hard eyes and cautious faces.
“Do you want us back at the front, your Majesty?” Duncan asked, an eagerness in his voice as if he were desperate to get away from me. Which he probably was. He’d made it very clear he despised me, so while the front didn’t sound like a pleasure cruise, maybe it was for him compared to seeing my face.
Meanwhile, Azrael looked stoic and immutable, as if no mission could give him pause.
I caught Tiron’s eye, and he winked at me, a quick flicker of his lashes. Something lightened in my chest.
“No,” Faer said. “I know how much you three love to fight, but I need my best men here. To protect my sister.”
Duncan’s lips tightened. “Is there some particular threat you’re concerned about?”
“All of them.” Faer went on cheerfully, “But also, she needs someone to teach her how to live in this world again. You three can serve as bodyguards and as teachers while we work to restore her memories.”
Oh, lord help me.
I couldn’t get away from the beautiful men on either side of the rip, and they couldn’t get away from me either, apparently.
“Surely there’s someone else,” I said, and Duncan’s eyes widened faintly, as if he were relieved by the idea. Meanwhile, Tiron’s lips pressed together, as if Duncan’s irritation had shifted to him.
“They are the best,” Faer repeated. He touched my back, flashing me a warm smile. “Rest well, sister. They will show you to your quarters.”
He closed himself back in his apartment. The door clicked shut definitively, leaving the four of us staring at each other in the airy room.
“Well, fuck,” Duncan said.
“Duncan,” Azrael said, his voice warning.
Duncan strode toward the door that led back into the rest of the castle. “Come on, Princess. Time for the tour, so maybe you won’t get lost in your own home.”
“Do you want me to kick his ass?” Tiron asked, resting his hand on my shoulder. “Because he’s technically my senior, and he’s saved my life four or five times, but I would be willing to kick his ass if it would make you feel better.”
“Seven,” Duncan corrected, without looking back.
They led me on a whirlwind tour of the castle, then brought me back to an apartment that was warmer but far more modest than Faer’s lodging above. From the living room, I could see my balcony that overhung the sea; the room was filled with flowering vines and an enormous sunken tub in the corner, so large that might actually be a pool.
Books filled the shelves on one side of the room, and all kinds of weapons and armor hung from the walls. I turned to take in the room, then said, “I see my interests haven’t changed much.”
An enormous tree grew inside the room, its flower-laden branches twisting to hang over the shimmering blue water of the pool. Two doors, to either side of the room, were open to bedrooms.
“It’s lovely,” I said, then added, “Why is it so much smaller than Faer’s rooms?”
“He moved into the king’s quarters when your father died.” Azrael said. “When the two of you were children, you shared this set of rooms.”
“Seems very practical. In my world, they put up fences to keep children out of pools. We slept in a room with one. Makes perfect sense.”
“This is your world,” Azrael reminded me.
“Not until I remember it,” I said, “and I’m rather put out with you, as I’m just now remembering. You lied to me—”
The door opened, and Nikia bustled in, followed by several women.
“Time for us to leave,” Azrael said.
“Run away, Azrael,” I told him, and his jaw tensed.
I expected him to swipe back at me, but instead he bowed at the waist. There was mockery in his graceful motion, though his face was blank.
Then the three of them swept out of the room and left me to my doom.
“I thought I was going to take a nap,” I protested as Nikia and the others bustled around, beginning to prepare me for the party hours from now. Apparently, I needed a bath, I needed to be dressed and made up and my hair done, and I couldn’t do any of that on my own.
“I do not need to be bathed,” I said, scandalized. “Go away!”
Duncan had said I was spoiled and willful, and when I chased my reluctant servants out of my apartment, I could see where perhaps I’d earned that reputation before.
But the day had been a whirlwind, and I needed to be alone.
I went out onto the balcony and rested my forearms on the railing. There was no one else in sight; Faer’s balcony overhung mine, but I couldn’t see him and he couldn’t see me, so it felt as if I was alone here at the edge of the sea.
The wind ruffled my hair, and I breathed in the fresh, bright scent of salt. As I watched the waves roll in and out, listening to the crashing of the waves, peace settled over me. I’d always loved the ocean.
So this was home.
When I had been alone for a while, I turned to the pool, shedding my clothes before I stepped into the water. The water was warm and pleasant, and I swam a few laps before I let myself float. Some of my tension floated away too.
When I heard a faint knocking at the door, I expected it was Nikia. I tried to fix a smile on my face as I lifted myself easily out of the water. I picked up a towel from the rose quartz bench by the pool’s edge and flinging it around my body, anchoring it with one hand as I left wet footprints across the marble.
I hadn’t meant to be ungrateful; I was just exhausted by people.
But it was Azrael who stood in the doorway, his hands folded behind his back. My breath stuttered at the sight of him. His eyes dropped to my towel, and then widened.
“I heard you wanted to be alone,” he said.
“And so you thought you should come to torment me?” I left the door open as I strode back into the room. He could take that as an invitation, or not.
“I thought you should have some help preparing for tonight’s festivities,” he said, “unless you want me to find you an eye patch and you can go as a pirate.”
“Will it be a costume party?”
“No,” he said. “But Duncan would be delighted if you wore one.”
“Well, I do live to please Duncan.” I tucked my hair behind my ears, studying him. “You came to make sure I don’t embarrass myself at the party.”
“Let’s not set goals that are to
o lofty,” he said.
“You’re a jackass,” I said. “I’m still mad at you. You don’t even like me, you forced me through the portal—”
“If I truly hated you, Alisa, I could have told Faer we couldn’t find you,” he interrupted me. “I think the Fae courts need you.”
I stared at him uncertainly.
“For tonight,” he said, his voice low, controlled again, “you should just become reacquainted with your people, your world. But you do need to do that in a gown. Is playing dress-up really so terrible to you now? You used to love a good costume. A good prank.”
My lips pursed to one side. He caught my hand in his and towed me with him into the bedroom on the left. An enormous, engraved, wooden wardrobe ran across one wall, the one opposite the windows, and he pulled it open to reveal dozens of gowns.
“Where did these come from?” I asked.
“They’re yours from before,” he said. “Not the latest style.”
I ran my fingertips over the rows of colorful silk gowns, many of them elaborately embroidered or heavy with pearls and jewels, and I frowned. “This all seems…ridiculous.”
“Royalty are ridiculous,” he said drily. “It never bothered you before.”
“Please stop talking about who I was before.” I felt like I was going to lose my mind every time he alluded to a shared past that only he remembered.
He paused, then said, “You’re right. It must be difficult.”
I shook my head, glancing away from the gowns to his face, then dropping my gaze to his chest, which was easier to talk to. His face was too beautiful. “I don’t know how to do this, Azrael. Whoever I was before, I’m no princess now.”
“You’ll get through it,” he said. He hesitated, then admitted, “You’ve always been amazing, Alisa. Whatever else I’ve ever thought about you—you’ve always been strong. Clever.”
“It’s hard to feel clever when you don’t know the rules of the game. When you don’t even know the game, for that matter.”
“You have me.”
“Do I?” I asked. “You’re keeping secrets from me. And I kicked you, and I have to wonder how genuinely forgiving—”
“You and I used to be rougher than that with each other in bed,” he said, his voice rich with amusement. He touched the spot on his shoulder where I’d kicked him. “I’ll heal.”