The Golden Key Legacy

by AJ Nuest

“Yep. And I’m in love with her too.”

  King Caedmon narrowed his gaze. “How did you sustain the injury to your right eye?”

  Rhys gritted his teeth, but no good would come from lying. Besides, if nothing else, the shiner proved Faedrah could hold her own in a fight. He nodded in her direction. “Your daughter took a jab and I forgot to duck.”

  “Outstanding. I’ve no qualms her vengeance was rightly deserved.” The king’s brown eyes hardened with the same fiery anger that had sparked in Faedrah’s gaze the day she’d shown up at the gallery. “And who are you to lay claim to that which I and her mother hold most dear? By what right or title do you petition our consent to court the future queen of the Austiere Kingdom?”

  Fuck. The shit was about to hit the fan. I’m just the son of Gaelleod. No big deal. Oh, and by the way, I’m having sex with your daughter. “My name is Rhys Mc—”

  “He is a gifted seer of this realm.” Faedrah stepped forward.

  Rhys jerked his attention to her. Seer? Since when was he a seer?

  “’Twas his heart which beckoned me here.” Her gaze darted back and forth between her parents. “Do you not recall my persistent fascination with the armoire? The unrelenting splintering of my soul? ʼTwas Rhys’ summons which called to me across the ages, and ʼtis by his knowledge and with his aid, I was able to uncover the whereabouts of Wizard Gaelleod.”

  “Oh, crap.” Oliver slapped a hand to his forehead. Jon sprang forward in his chair, a gasp shaping his mouth into a perfect round “oh.” The queen paled, and apparently all her blood flowed straight into the king because his face flooded an artery popping red.

  Crossing his arms, Rhys cocked a brow at his white-haired minx. Yeah, okay, she’d told them the truth, but not the whole truth. Still, after the smooth way she’d moved the discussion off of him and onto his father, he wasn’t about to throw her under the bus…and neither were Forbes and his lover.

  He nailed them to their seats with a warning glare. Whatever Faedrah’s reasons for delaying the inevitable, he trusted her gut. Since Oliver and Jon were the only other two who knew about dinner at Leo’s, if they planned to see the light of tomorrow they’d keep their big traps shut.

  Jon clapped his hand over his mouth, elbowed Oliver and shook his head.

  “Are you stating this rebellious soothsayer purposely led to you straight into the arms of our most vile enemy?” The king’s voice built in volume until he roared like a caged guerilla.

  Faedrah flinched, but she didn’t look away, and Rhys flexed his fingers against the urge to punch his fist through the mirror and see if he could dent the guy’s grizzled square jaw.

  “She didn’t know,” he snapped. “Neither of us knew who he was until she met him face to face.”

  “Is this true, Faedrah?” Her mom moved her hand to her chest. “Moreover, are you quite certain the entity you encountered and the black wizard are one in the same?”

  “His appearance was somewhat altered, and yet I am thoroughly convinced Leo McEleod is the same dark lord who haunts my dreams.”

  Really? Rhys shot her a frown. That was news to him. He’d assumed the Leo in this time and the one in hers looked exactly the same. Not that it mattered. The damage was done.

  He refocused on her parents. “Bad news is, he recognized her too.”

  The king wrenched forward in his seat, a rigid finger aimed at his daughter. “You shall return to the Austiere Kingdom at once.” He sized up Rhys from under his brows. “And you shall return to this realm alone. Now come.” He waved her forward. “The decision has been made.”

  Over my dead body. Rhys inched in front of her, staring down her dad through the glass. It was time they got a few things straight. “Sorry, but that ain’t happenin’. Faedrah’s not going anywhere without me.”

  Jon tsked three times, shooting him the stink eye. Oliver looked Rhys up and down, lips smacking like he’d just eaten a dog turd.

  King Caedmon froze. A second or two passed before the corner of his mouth twitched and he tossed his head back with a hearty laugh, pounding his fist against the arm of his chair. “I do believe your affections have left you somewhat addled, my boy. You do not decide how and with what decree I rule my kingdom. No entitlement in either realm presents you such privilege over my daughter.”

  “I love her.” Rhys gritted through his teeth. “And she loves me.”

  “Drivel.” The king fell back in his seat. “You’ve known each other but the span of three days.”

  The queen slowly turned. She pinned her husband with a deadly stare and Rhys grimaced over being the beneficiary of that loaded weapon. Hopefully, it wasn’t hereditary.

  The king’s shoulders fell, and he muttered a curse. “Our three days were different, my love. ʼTwas the Gleaning, pre-ordained by prophecy and under celestial providence of The Nine.”

  She huffed. “And as a product of that same destiny, is it not our duty to hear out our daughter’s petition? Have the goddesses not opened the veil as divine blessing of her choice?” Lifting her hand, she cupped the king’s cheek. “Perchance our best course would be to allow Rhys safe haven in our kingdom. Given time, mayhap this will grant us the opportunity to learn the true nature of his heart.”

  “No.” Faedrah rounded Rhys’ side and stood with him shoulder to shoulder. A squeeze of his hand, and he bit his tongue before he had the chance to stick his foot in his mouth. Her mom’s suggestion had sounded like a damn fine idea to him. “Rhys and I will do neither.”

  Aw, fuck. As sure as shit was slick, the woman was headed straight down a rabbit hole. His nostrils flared as he peeked at her from the corner of his eye.

  “I caution you to bide your words carefully, Faedrah.” Propping his elbow on the arm of his chair, her father leaned toward the mirror. “My patience over this discussion is threadbare, at best.”

  “And what of my entitlement, father? As future queen, am I not afforded the same courtesy to speak you’ve so steadfastly professed to grant every subject in the realm?”

  The queen dipped her head in consent. “Of course you are, dove.”

  King Caedmon opened his mouth like he was about to rain down a bunch of objections, but another sharp glance from the queen and he snapped his jaw shut. Rolling his eyes, he tossed his hand in the air.

  Faedrah squared her shoulders like she was prepping to bungee jump off a cliff. “What news of the black infestation?”

  The two royals exchange a long stare before facing their daughter, and the king raked a hand through his hippy-length hair. “Despite our best efforts, the source remains a mystery, and the northern most forest has all but succumbed.”

  Faedrah stiffened beside him, and Rhys lifted her hand to his lips. What this “infestation” had to do with Leo, he wasn’t sure, but if she believed the two were somehow connected, that was good enough for him. “And, to this course, have you yet determined whether or not Gaelleod retains a foothold in our realm?”

  “No.” A frown wrinkled the king’s forehead, dislodging the gold band resting an inch above his thick eyebrows. “Where does this line of questioning lead, Faedrah?”

  She sighed and shook her head. “I do not yet know. However, ʼtwould seem a misspent error of profound neglect to not confront the bastard whilst the opportunity presents itself.”

  Gotcha!

  Rhys rolled his head back on his shoulders, cheeks expanding as he blew a breath toward the ceiling. A small laugh cinched his stomach as chaos erupted, both in her world and his. Oliver and Jon leapt to their feet, squawking like hens. The king and queen shouted a jumble of complaints he couldn’t even try to understand.

  But the real kicker? Faedrah had already made her decision. Even before they got here, she’d come up with this plan. She meant to go after the asshole and nothing anyone said would change her mind.

  Tipping his head forward, he laughed again. Christ, he was an idiot.

  He pivoted toward the girl of his dreams and his chest constricted at the bloated
tears balanced on her lower lashes. She worried her bottom lip. Disappointment shaded her beautiful brown eyes as they flicked from face to face.

  Her parents, Oliver and Jon, were only upset because they cared, wanted to protect her just like he did. But, to her, their knee-jerk reaction meant something different. Rhys had lived the same rejection enough to know.

  In her eyes, none of them truly believed in her. They didn’t think she was strong enough, smart enough. They called her out for being a failure without even giving her the chance to try.

  He’d squared off against those odds before, and whenever his father had told him his efforts were useless, hearing those words had been like sucking warm piss through a straw.

  Regardless of the risks involved, he couldn’t do that to her. He loved her, and would be the last guy to let her down. “I’ll go with you.”

  Her eyes snapped to his. Relief, gratitude…hell, even love flooded her gaze. He smiled, huffing. Shit, she had him wrapped around her little finger, but no one had ever looked at him the way she did. Like he was more, better…good.

  “Shhh…” Oliver flapped his arms in the air like he was trying to corral a swarm of bees. “Be quiet!”

  The shouting cut off mid-stream, and the sudden silence was louder than the uproar that had filled the room a second ago.

  “Now.” Forbes tossed his head. “What did you say?”

  Gathering both of Faedrah’s hands, Rhys tugged her a step closer and brought her knuckles to his chest. “I said…I would go with her.”

  She smiled; nodded. A single tear tumbled and left a clear, shiny trail down her cheek.

  “She has not yet been granted the sanction of her king and queen!”

  “Caedmon.” Queen Rowena’s harsh whisper carried more emphasis than her husband’s ear-clanging shout. “Our daughter is a grown woman, wise in reasoning and brave beyond measure. We have taught her all that we know and raised her well. ʼTis time we trust she knows how best to seek her fate. Though worry pains my heart as it does yours, the day has come to let her fly.”

  Tremors shook the king’s body. He clamped both hands on the arms of his chair. “So that she can soar straight into the arms of death? I cannot…I shall not ever willingly consent to such an abhorrent revelation.”

  “What other choice do we have?” The queen placed her palm on her husband’s wrist, pried open his fingers and cinched their hands together. “We have always known Faedrah was special, and now we have unparalleled proof. The goddesses have granted her passage to the future to fulfill a higher cause. We must be strong, my love. Stronger than ever before. For all the dire circumstances of her path, Faedrah may be our kingdom’s only hope.”

  A long moment of stress-filled tension hung in the air.

  “Yeah, that might not be entirely true.”

  Rhys swiveled his shoulders to find Forbes’ elbow balanced on the back of his hand, thumb and forefinger plucking his bottom lip. He wagged that same finger in the air. “There’s one thing we’ve all forgotten. A person we should definitely consult before these two kids charge off into the unknown.”

  He raised a brow at the king and queen, shifted his attention to Jon and smirked.

  Rhys frowned around the room as the strain disappeared from each of their faces. Wait…what or who was Forbes talking about?

  A grin split the guy’s face, and he chuckled as all four of them spoke at once. “Violet.”

  Chapter 5

  “Okay. Sounds good. We’ll see you then.”

  Forbes thumbed the screen on his cell and slipped it into the pocket of his creased, black slacks. “Violet asked we give her the night to research. We’re supposed to meet at her place tomorrow morning at ten.”

  Relief dropped Faedrah’s shoulders a solid inch, and Rhys lowered his chin, jaw clamped tight against weighing in with his two cents about their decision. The second Violet’s name had come up in the living room, Oliver and Jon, Faedrah’s mom and dad had all breathed a little easier…and bucky for them. Apparently those four had been on the receiving end of this Violet person’s internet savvy skills before, and the answers she’d provided twenty years ago regarding some or another important event had elevated her status to an oracle-like prophet. If Faedrah believed following in her parents’ footsteps and asking Violet’s advice was their next best move, he was happy to go along. Still, when it came to their future together, trusting some computer geek he’d never met—especially one who called herself a witch—didn’t sit that well in his gut. Whether the kooky old bat was more phone psychic than Girl with the Dragon Tattoo remained to be seen. She so much as mentioned the words “Ouija Board” and they were out of there.

  Oliver strolled to the side in the guest bedroom and propped his ass on the edge of the desk. Crossing his arms, he sized up Faedrah from under his brows. A protective streak sliced through Rhys like a set of halogen high beams, and he slipped an arm around her waist, tugging her against his hip.

  Forbes’ focus shifted to him and Rhys narrowed his eyes. Based on the frustration simmering in her uncle’s light-blue orbs, this conversation could only be headed in one direction, but he would be damned before he let anyone criticize Faedrah’s decisions. She’d done the best she could. Shit, the only reason she’d lied was to protect him.

  “I don’t like this one bit.” Oliver sighed, shaking his head. “The two of you have put me and Jon in a terrible spot.”

  Ha! The guy should spend ten minutes in Rhys’ shoes. Try having his dad be the reincarnation of Charles-fucking-Manson and then he could talk. “It would have only freaked her parents out more to find out I’m Leo’s son.” His fingers tightened on Faedrah’s waist. “Their faith in her would have been flushed straight down the shitter and we all know that’s the last thing she needs.”

  “Rowena and Caedmon are our friends,” Oliver snapped. “They trust us, and purposely keeping them in the dark goes against everything Jon and I believe in.”

  “Uncle…” Faedrah left Rhys’ side and approached Forbes, placing her hand on his crossed arms. “Had there been another way, I swear to you, I would have pursued a more honest course.” She searched his face, fingertips whitening as she tightened her grip. “Please. I beg your understanding. Surely, you must have endured a time whence subterfuge was employed to safeguard the yearnings of your heart.”

  “Pffft.” Jon walked through the door, a stack of folded clothes in his arms. “That’s putting it mildly.” He set the garments on the bed, selected a white t-shirt and held it open in front of Rhys’s chest. “You’ve just described every gay man’s adolescence.”

  Tossing the shirt aside, he picked up the next and stretched it end-to-end across Rhys’ shoulders. “Good God, you’re nearly as beefy as Caedmon, aren’t you?” He smiled up at Rhys, backed away a step and glanced around the tense faces in the room. “Should I go pour us a round of nightcaps?”

  Rhys shook his head. It had to be after midnight, and the only thing he needed was Faedrah, alone. Just the two of them like they’d been earlier today, followed by a solid block of uninterrupted shut-eye. After last night’s drawing jag, followed by the stress of meeting her parents, blind exhaustion had been the only thing to make him agree to sleeping at Forbes’ instead of heading home. Navigating Chicago’s dark streets with her on the back of his bike was a bad idea. “It’s time we call it a night. Both Faedrah and I need some sleep.”

  Jon’s smile returned. “All right, then. Leave your clothes outside the door and I’ll be sure they get laundered before we head to Violet’s in the morning.”

  “I vow to relay the full details of Rhys’ lineage to my parents the moment the most reasonable opportunity presents itself.” Cupping Forbes’ cheeks, Faedrah brought him down to peck each side of his face—one, two, three—back and forth like some avant-garde movie. Oliver pursed his lips, his gaze following as she crossed the room and gave the same goodnight kiss to Jon.

  “And I shall explain the deep frustrations you endured at our
expense.” She squeezed Jon’s hand. “The anger of the king and queen shall not be placed upon your brow, I swear it.”

  “Eh?” Forbes’ dark-haired lover shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time your dad was peeved at me. He likes to growl a bit to make sure he’s heard. You should’ve seen him the day your mother insisted they go back to his realm. Good grief, I thought steam was going to hiss out of the big guy’s ears.”

  Rhys grunted. Good one.

  “Jon.” Oliver warned.

  “What?” He propped his hands on his hips. “It’s not my fault Faedrah’s just like her mother.” Narrowing his eyes, he wagged a finger. “Had Rowena been given this opportunity to save their kingdom, she would have made the exact same decision and you know it.”

  Oh, really? Rhys cocked a brow. That was interesting…

  Forbes rolled his eyes and stood from the dresser, pressing his lover’s shoulder to go in front of him out the door. “Come on. Let’s let these two get some rest.”

  “Rest, my lily white ass. We both know that’s the last thing on their agenda.” Jon gasped and slapped a hand to his chest, stopping in the threshold. “Oh, Ollie, just think. Grandkids! Did you ever imagine? The two of us as grandparents?”

  Oliver slumped. “The only thing I’m thinking is you need to slow down.” He grabbed the handle and, with a wink in Rhys and Faedrah’s direction, swung the door closed. Jon’s excited chatter grew muffled as their footsteps faded down the hall.

  Rhys smirked. Kids? Yeah, he really didn’t qualify as dad material. Especially since he’d grown up with the worst possible role model. Then again, he’d never been loved before. Never shared a connection with someone the way he did with Faedrah. He turned toward his muse.

  “Apologies.” Her attention left the door and landed on him. “Sir Jon employs a tendency to speak out of tu—”

  “Don’t.”

  Her lips parted, and the anticipation that had been percolating along the periphery ever since her parents had signed off from their mystical Skype chat tensed every muscle in his body. The heated glances she shot his way, the constant touching had him geared up and aching.