“Get your priorities straight, Fiona,” Georgia said.
“I want to be a duchess, I think my priorities are just fine,” Fiona said.
“A duchess doesn’t steal the silver,” his mate retorted.
“I was short of funds. I merely borrowed the silver. I was going to bring it back.”
“I do not believe you,” Quil said.
Enough of this. He had to draw away the assassin.
“I think stealing the silver was a pretty good indication she never planned to return,” Talen said, pushing open the stable’s doors. “What changed? Your buyer wouldn’t pay for the music box? Where is it, by the way?”
With every question, Talen stepped closer to the assassin.
Fiona sighed. “He said he needed proof and he could pay me a lot of money for the right item. A ridiculous amount of money. But then he changed the deal.” She tossed the assassin a glare. “He said it wasn’t good enough, even though there’s the royal seal on the bottom. Anyone can see that.”
The assassin stood. A slight male of moderate height, Talen had no doubt that the male would prove remarkably strong and agile in a fight. “The heir and the spare,” he said.
“You will divorce your mate,” Talen told Quil. The female brought danger to their home. She only thought of her own greed and selfish wants. She was not family.
“Of course I didn’t sell it,” she said.
“Couldn’t get a fair price, more like,” Talen snapped. “Did the pawnshops turn you away? No one willing to front you the credit for obviously stolen treasure.”
“No, it wasn’t like that,” she protested.
“Enough of the act,” Quil interjected. “It would be more convincing if you didn’t fleece me of every cent I had and if you had spent a little money in your normal haunts. If you did that, I’d believe you if you claimed you went on a gambling binge. That’s how we met, after all.”
“You dumped me for a gambling addict? Unbelievable,” Georgia said.
“Enough,” the assassin said, slamming the mallet into the wall just above Georgia’s head. Talen’s stomach lurched. He wanted this male bleeding out on the floor. When the room quieted, the assassin held out a length of rope. “Kneel.”
Talen did not move.
“Kneel with your back to me, Your Grace, or I’ll make a necklace out of your pretty little mate’s ears.” The assassin produced a knife and held it to Georgia’s throat.
The room held its collective breath, waiting on Talen’s response. He needed to draw the assassin away from his mate. Charl needed a clear shot.
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” Fiona said in a stage-whisper.
“Oh, you fucking moron. The person you wanted to sell the unique, one-of-a-kind, highly recognizable work of art to is not a collector. He’s bad news,” Georgia said. Pride sparked in his chest at his clever mate.
“He said he’s a writer. He wrote that book, with the two kits. You know. You have a copy.”
“The Lost Princes. Holy shit,” Georgia said. “Is that you? Are you the lost princes?”
That fucking book. “Lies and slander,” Talen said.
“I don’t know. It’s well regarded as a popular history,” the assassin said, never stepping away from Georgia. “Attitudes are shifting. The old families are being restored. Your mother was a very popular figure and history looks favorably on the work she did.” He spoke in a bored, almost aristocratic tone. He could understand how that would convince Fiona she spoke to the author of that piece of flaming garbage.
“A prince is the son of a king. Our grandfather was king and our father the younger son. I had the courtesy title of marquess at the time and Talen had an earldom lined up for when he reached his majority. Of course, I’d be only a duke now, I’m afraid,” Quil said, as casually as if they were drinking and playing cards.
“So, I’m a duchess?” Fiona asked.
“Alas, my sweet, no. There was an unpleasant little civil war,” Quil said. “Our parents were murdered, and Talen and I fled, hiding from assassins for a good decade until we were declared dead.”
“So, go back! You’re not dead,” Fiona said, like the title of duchess was a trivial item Quil could pick up at a shop and give her.
“You see, my sweet, a second cousin inherited. Esteem. We agreed to renounce our claim, change our names and never return, in exchange for not being murdered in our sleep,” Quil said, eyeing the assassin’s blade.
The deal changed, apparently.
“As I said, attitudes have shifted. His Grace feels the previous duke and his mate have grown too popular posthumously and the two lost princes have captured the public’s imagination with that book. Now, kneel.” The assassin gesture with his free hand, blade still at Georgia’s throat.
“So, I’m not a duchess?”
“I’m afraid not, kitten,” Quil said.
Fiona turned her hot glare to the assassin, displaying utter lack of self-preservation. “This is your fault! You said he was a duke! I just needed to give you the music box.”
Momentarily, the male turned his head toward Fiona and the knife eased back a fraction. Quil lifted his bound legs, knocking the blade from the male’s hands. Talen dove, sending the blade further across the floor.
The assassin nimbly jumped to his feet and grabbed an object from the workbench. He held a chisel, not the most lethal item but it would inflict serious damage. He towered over Talen, who moved to intercept the blow and protect his mate.
Glass shattered.
The assassin swayed on his feet. The chisel clattered to the floor and his body dropped, a discreet hole in his forehead the cause.
“What were you waiting for?” Talen said, retrieving the knife to cut through the silver tape.
“Someone wouldn’t kneel and kept blocking my shot.” Charl entered their makeshift workshop, the rifle leaning on his shoulder.
Blood and brain matter splattered across the floor and along the top of desk waiting to be refinished.
“We are out of practice,” Quil said. “I practically winked and repeated the signal.”
“I saw no signal.”
“My sweet? Come on. I do not speak like that. It’s undignified.”
“As you say, honey bear,” Talen said, and quickly cut the rope binding Quil’s hand and gave him the knife. He ignored his brother’s babbling. Quil chattered when stressed. He had a more important person to tend to.
“Don’t look,” he said, helping Georgia to her feet. He ran his hand down her arms, holding up her wrists for inspection and gently kissing the red marks. “Are you hurt?”
Stress hormones rolled off her, clouding his senses. He needed to see she was unharmed. He needed to inspect every inch of her delicate human skin.
“I’m okay,” she said. “Who was that?” She shook her head. “I guess I know who he was. I mean why? Why did he want to kill you?”
“That was an amateur. He should have dealt with you one by one, rather than round you up for a show,” Charl said as he went through the male’s pockets. “At least, that’s what I would have done. Better crowd control.”
His friend really was a frightening male.
“Standards have fallen if Esteem is hiring cut-rate assassins,” Quil said.
“But now?” Talen asked. After so many years had passed. The brothers had honored their end of the agreement, assumed new identities with the best forgeries money could buy, and never set foot on Talmar again.
“This may shed some light on your questions.” Charl held up a piece of paper.
“How utterly primitive,” Quil said, opening the folded sheet. “It’s a list of names.” He frowned. “I think these are family members. I’m not sure. Distant relations, maybe.”
Talen took the list but recognized none of the names. “Our cousin Esteem is removing those who could challenge his title.” That is what the assassin claimed.
“I know this name.” Quil tapped the paper. “Uncle Forthright had a basta
rd daughter. She was an infant.”
Fuzzy memories of holding a crying kit came to mind and a nursemaid scolding him for holding the kit too tightly. “What happened to her?”
“Presumably the same thing that happened to us. Forthright was a bit more perceptive than our parents and, hopefully, had enough sense to send the kit away,” Quil said.
“We have a cousin? She’s been alone all this time.” They could have been searching for her. Talen and Quil had each other but this kit had no one. He couldn’t imagine the hardship of being away from home, too young to remember anything or anyone.
Quil’s hand on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts. “We barely escaped. We were too young to do a search and rescue. It took everything to keep us one step ahead of his lot.” Quil gave the dead assassin a kick.
“Your cousin must be dealt with,” Charl said. He held the assassin’s communication device. “That list is not for a family reunion.”
“Agreed.” Talen gave the list to Charl. “You will handle this.”
“You’re my family and no one gets to order a hit on my family without consequences,” Charl said.
“You are one scary fucker,” Georgia said.
Charl never spoke about his time in the Navy, or his life before joining the service, but Talen knew that the male enlisted already equipped with several deadly skills. He was patient and precise. There could be no one better to solve this problem and keep Talen’s family safe.
“Esteem will want proof that the assassin succeeded,” Quil said.
“You are correct.” Talen grabbed Quil roughly and slammed him, face first, into the stone wall.
“What the fuck! My nose!” Blood gushed down his face. He clutched his broken nose, spreading the mess. “Why did you do that? We could have used paint!”
“Authenticity matters,” Talen said, quoting Quil at his most intractable about doing repairs the expensive way for the house.
Charl muttered about brothers. “Lay on the ground and don’t blink,” he directed. Using the assassin’s communication device, he took a photo.
Quil clambered to his feet and used a handkerchief to scrub at his face. “This is monogrammed and now it’s ruined. I’ll never get the stain out.”
“Stop being so fussy,” Talen said.
Quil finally seemed to notice his former mate, still bound and whimpering on the wood chip-strewn floor. “He’s dead. Oh my God,” Fiona sobbed. “How could you?”
“He was going to kill us,” Georgia said in a serenely calm voice.
“You! Not me. We had a deal. I never got my money.” More pitiful mewling, the eye makeup running with tears.
Quil remained unmoved by this sight, which pleased Talen. Perhaps his brother had finally learned his lesson. Too bad his choice in mate brought a viper into their den.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Shut the fuck up, you selfish bitch,” Georgia snapped. Her tiny fists balled with anger. “He was never going to pay you for the thing you stole, and he was totally going to murder all of us.”
Fiona opened her mouth to protest but Quil placed his hand over her face. “Perhaps it is wiser to be silent and observe.”
“Can we just gag her?” Charl asked, holding a roll of tape.
“Not until she tells us where the music box is,” Talen said.
“My bag,” Fiona said and Quil searched through the bag.
The music box was just an object and if he never saw it again, he’d wouldn’t miss it. That revelation surprised him. The jeweled music box held such sentimental value that he expected to be devastated if it were lost.
He looked toward his mate, who rubbed her sore wrists.
He possessed items of greater value now. The music box was a gaudy trinket, an exercise in too much money and too little taste, and nothing more.
“Ha! Found it!” Quil raised a fist in triumph, holding aloft the purloined music box. “Seems smaller than I remember.” He wound the gear at the bottom and a few mechanized notes sounded. With a smile on his face, Quil looked up, remembering his audience. “Oh. No one seems impressed. Don’t we care about this anymore?”
He handed the music box to Talen. “Don’t be upset with him, Georgia. We were conditioned to never speak of who we were or our family, just in case someone with influence decided that we needed to be assassinated as well. But all of that was before the civil war. It’s no longer ours, I’m afraid.”
“You can go back and claim what’s yours, honey bear. You were lost but we found you. It’s all waiting for you,” Fiona said.
“The title of the book is misleading,” Quil said. “We were never lost and a few years ago, we reached a settlement with the new heir of the estate.”
Talen nodded. “A cousin took over the estate and eventually inherited after it had been declared legally. When the war was over, and not being dead, we received compensation.”
“We renounced our titles and agreed to live in exile,” Quil said.
The brothers exchanged a look. The cousin no longer seemed content to let them be in exile and wanted them removed from the picture.
“So, I’m not a duchess?” Fiona’s bottom lip trembled.
Charl slapped the tape over her mouth.
* * *
Georgia
* * *
“Are the dramatic reveals over? We need to do something… about this,” Georgia said and waved toward the body.
“Most of the local Watchtower is in the ballroom,” Quil said. “I’ll fetch the scariest looking bastard I can find.”
“No, wait.” She frowned. How would they explain this?
Talen’s warm hand rubbed the back of her neck. “We did nothing wrong. We were attacked in our home.”
“Okay. You’re right, you’re right.” Adrenaline coursed through her, muddling her thoughts.
“Are you well?” Talen asked.
She nodded, then shook her head. “I wasn’t scared, you know, when he tied me up or threatened to cut me.” She placed a hand over her heart and felt it thrumming in her chest. “But it’s hitting me now.” She took a shuddering breath, willing herself to be calm.
“Quil, fetch a hunter from the Watchtower. I’m tending to my mate,” Talen said.
“And that one?” Charl pointed to Fiona, still on the floor with her hands bound.
“She is a thief and conspired with a murderer. They can decide what to do with her.”
“And a debtor, too,” Quil added. “Although I believe I’m technically responsible for those. Oh well. Another reason not to dally on getting a divorce. Sit tight, my sweet little thief.” He blew an exaggerated kiss in her direction before leaving.
Georgia needn’t have worried. The head of the Watchtower just so happened to be the father of the birthday girl, Clarity, and also from Talmar. He nodded as Talen gave a statement about his family’s history, what the assassin said about the cousin sending him, and how Fiona lured Georgia away from the house to be held hostage.
“Politics,” Merit said with a sneer. “I really thought I left that behind on Talmar.”
“As did I,” Talen replied.
Fiona had been taken back to the Watchtower due to a warrant for her arrest. Her sticky fingers and gambling habit caused quite a lot of trouble for herself.
The event went off without a hitch, Achaval family drama aside. Clarity changed into another dress, burgundy with gold embroidery. Music played. People danced. Wine flowed. As the clock approached midnight, guests headed to their rooms or for their vehicles. A few clusters of guests remained, camped on cushions and drinking coffee.
Georgia cradled a steaming mug of tea and sat on the terrace. Lights and sounds of the ballroom spilled out from behind her. The sweet, minty aroma of the tea helped ease the tension from her body. She felt exhausted but was too wired to sleep anytime soon.
“Are you well? I will send for a medic.” Talen joined her at the balustrade, leaning on the stone lip.
“I’m fine.”
“I can hear
your heart racing and smell your stress.”
Delightful.
She took a sip of the minty tea. “I just need to calm down but I’ve never been good at letting my anxiety go.”
“And the kit? Stress can harm the kit.”
“Constantly elevated high blood pressure, sure, you big doof. One stressful night wouldn’t harm the kit.” Once she said the words, she doubted herself. Freema would tell her to see the doctor and Talen would drag the doctor to her if she wouldn’t go to the clinic. “In the morning, okay?”
She needed to see the event through until the last guest left, because burying her emotions under physical activity until she was ready to deal was how she coped. Life skills.
He moved behind her, wrapping his arms around and pressed his face to the juncture of where her neck met her shoulder. “Such sweet words of affection, my heart. Pray never tell me the meaning of a doof, because I already know it means love.”
She snorted, nearly spitting out her mouthful of tea. “That was a bit harsh. I’m sorry for calling names.”
She looked across the dark garden. The moon hid partly behind the clouds and the stillness surrounded them.
“It went well tonight,” she said. “No one was murdered, I can’t believe that’s a benchmark now, and our first event went off without a problem.”
“You did well.”
“We did well.” Another sip of tea. “Fuck, I’m tired. I think I’m going to sleep in until noon tomorrow.”
“You need an assistant.”
“I’m fine. Don’t be ridiculous.” They were booked up but not out of the financial woods yet. She couldn’t go spending money like mad.
“You will only grow more tired with the kit. Once our Hairy Correction arrives, you will require an assistant.”
“We are so not naming this kid Harry Correction, so don’t even joke about that.” She set the cup down on the ledge and turned to face him. “Do you miss it? Talmar. Being royalty?”
He scratched behind an ear in a thoughtful gesture. “I was young and I remember little, that has always been true. If it was not for the photographs of my parents in that damned book, I don’t think I’d remember what they looked like.”
Pulled by the Tail: Celestial Mates Page 22