Ophelia smiles gracefully. “Freya, be a dear, would you, and go check on my son. I have no doubt that seeing his betrothed will do him some good after this evening’s . . . events,” the queen orders, in a bright tone that makes it sound more like a suggestion.
“Of course, Your Majesty. It would be my pleasure.”
Freya dips her chin and quickly brushes past us.
Once the water princess has disappeared inside the house, the queen’s stance morphs into a less formal one as she steps closer to us, while narrowing her parental gaze.
“You two,” she nods between us, “sit.”
Zander and I share a side-glance and do as she orders.
She moves toward the fire, placing her hands near it for warmth before speaking regally. “I had no idea Tristan signed a banishment order against you, Serena.” The queen’s tone is suddenly full of disappointment. She sighs. “Unfortunately, your clan took it as a personal insult. I’ve extended my deepest apologies because I do not wish to have a strained relationship with the gargoyle race. This is why I’ve allowed Zander to court you—although given the timing, and his fondness for your protector friend, Magali, I’m not sure why the allowance has been asked of me.”
“I appreciate the kindness you’ve shown,” I appease.
Ophelia rolls her eyes as if she were not royalty, but instead, my mother. “It wasn’t kindness. I don’t know what the two of you are up to, but I will figure it out. And when I do, you can be sure that if it hurts my son in any way, regardless of whether we’re family or allies, I will not hesitate to take actions against either one of you.” She lifts her chin. “My husband is quite fond of you. As are both our sons. Make no mistake, you’re here now because I believe it is better to keep you close—given your obvious feelings for Tristan, and his for you.” She pins me with a look. “If you interfere with his duties and obligations, my favor with you will become nonexistent. Political allies or not. Are we clear?”
“Crystal, Your Majesty,” I reply.
She dips her chin before walking over to Zander and placing a palm over his swollen cheek. “I love you as if you were my own. Tristan is impulsive and prideful. Neither of you should be behaving in this manner at court. Be more mindful of each other’s feelings. You are, after all, brothers.”
He places his hand over hers. “We will. On my honor.”
“Tristan has decided to stay at the castle before his nuptials. Freya is there as well. Therefore, it might be best for you both to stay here at his cabin while in our realm.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Good. Go inform him then, please,” she directs.
Zander looks between the two of us with uncertainty before standing and making his way back to the house.
Queen Ophelia takes his empty seat; her expression is soft and crestfallen as she stares into the auburn flames.
A welcome silence falls between us as we watch the embers glow before her quiet voice fills the night’s air.
“If there is anything I took from my brief moment in time with Tristan’s father, Gage, it is that gargoyles protect and fight hard for those they love. Your kind are true warriors. And while it may seem that fate is fighting against you and my son,” she twists her focus to me, “it is not.”
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I’m not following.”
“I saw what occurred between you and Tristan earlier. The bond severed in the ballroom,” her shoulders sag. “I may have even heard his heart shatter when it dissolved.”
My hand automatically finds my heart and presses down, a silly attempt to ease the emptiness it now feels.
“Gage is proof that when love is fated, not even death can break a protector’s bond.” She lowers her voice so it’s barely audible. “Search your heart; Tristan will be there. Regardless of his words or his actions. You must trust in the journey. For true love is everlasting, even in death.”
Wordless and confused, I watch as she stands, pats the front of her gown down, and disappears into the trees surrounding the cabin.
Dumbfounded, I study the inky forest in disbelief and dissect her words. Trust in the journey? Even in death—was that a threat against Tristan’s existence, or mine?
“So you’re staying?” Tristan interrupts my pondering with his calm, cool, detached voice, and approaches me from behind.
My gaze swings from the forest to the fire and back again, as his mother’s words float around in my head.
If he’s in danger, this would be the time to warn him.
“Tristan.”
“What?” He stands in front of me with tense shoulders.
I study him, trying to form a plausible reason why I’d be accusing his mother of plotting murder, but can’t.
Not without proof, anyway. Wrong time.
Suddenly, I’m chilled, and rub my arms.
“You’re blocking the warmth,” I point behind him at the flames. “I forgot how cold—and dark—your realm can be.”
Something flashes in his eyes as he takes a step to the left, allowing the last bit of heat from the dying fire to wash over me. I see by his annoyed expression that he took my insult as personally as I meant it. He’s so detached in my presence, it’s physically choking me.
“Classes at the Academy start soon. You’ll be needed.”
I snort. “Is that so?”
“I understand you, Magali, Ryker, and Ireland were assigned to the school’s protection after you graduated,” he points out. “You took oaths and have a duty to see through.”
“Once again, your panache for stating the obvious is mind-blowing,” I reply drily.
“You need to go.” His tone is almost pleading.
I flinch and play with my protector bracelet, a habit of mine when I’m uncomfortable or rattled.
His eyes fall to my wrist.
The reminder of my obligation annoys me. All I’ve ever wanted was to choose my own life and path. Yet, I’m right back where I started, at the Royal Protector Academy.
After a gargoyle graduates from the Academy, the royal family grants each a prestigious protector assignment.
Some of my friends and I have been assigned to the school, not because of our ability to safeguard it, but because it’s where my clan feels that I am the safest.
This summer I went home to London. In the early hours of morning, the Diablo Fairy leader, Kupuva, attacked my family, killing my bodyguard, Rulf, during the harsh battle.
Once the army was defeated, I returned to the prison the Academy has become to me. Hidden away, for safety.
“We both know the reason for my assignment,” I snip.
Tristan tilts his head as his eyes slowly inspect me. A glimmer of softness touches his eyes as he speaks. “It’s the safest place for you to be. An entire school made up of the elite within the gargoyle race. At your disposal if the Diablo Fairy army attacks again. Ready to give their lives for their future queen if need be,” he repeats his words from a previous conversation we’ve had. “Asmodeus and Kupuva are still a threat to you. Your safety takes priority.”
“For who?” I challenge. “You?”
“Yes,” he changes his tone from chilly to warm. “Me.”
As if realizing what he just said, he stands straighter and his face once again becomes masked with indifference.
I would have expected him to look gentle and kind to match his tone, but instead, I can’t read him at all anymore.
Cognac eyes blink at me slowly, causing me to shiver for a second time, but this time, it’s not from the cool night air.
“Chancellor Davidson gave me a short reprieve so that I could come here with Zander,” I admit softly. “My clan agreed, knowing you and your realm would keep me safe.”
His shoulders sink as he looks directly at me. “We can’t change the circumstances surrounding our births. Our bloodlines are our fates. We’re leaders. Royalty. The future of our respective races. It is a heavy burden to carry,” he pauses, “one that comes with outrageous
rules and ancient decrees. But regardless of what is hanging between us, you’re always safe within my realm’s walls. And with me.”
“Not all of me is safe with you,” I say in a shaky voice.
Recognition flares in his eyes. He knows I’m heartbroken and still harboring feelings for him.
Emotions he’s crushed.
“Feelings aren’t luxuries those like us are lucky enough to be afforded. Oaths. Duties. They are our fate.”
“And love?”
His eyes roam over my face. “Interdimensional balance and power rely on levelheadedness and focus. There is no room for love when you are the future king or queen.”
“So—you’re admitting that you do love me?”
He hesitates, and his perfect lips press into a firm line.
“Your silence isn’t very encouraging, Tristan.”
His lips twitch, fighting off the smallest hint of a smile at my tease before his expression turns into one of indifference. “Do you want me to lie to you?”
I swallow the thickness in my throat; he already has.
A haunted sadness falls across him, reminding me there is protector blood running through his veins. It might not be mine anymore, but there is no hiding it. Gage’s presence is in the very air he breathes and the way he carries himself.
I stand and lean toward him, needing to feel his warmth.
“You are my fate.” I whisper into the night air.
He shoots me a pained expression. “I have to go; I’m wanted at the castle to prepare for tomorrow’s celebration,” his voice turns harder. “Since you’ll be staying in my home, as my brother’s guest, I expect you to sleep in my room and Zander in the guest room. You are a princess and should be mindful of your reputation.”
I burst out laughing. “Is that so?”
“That’s so, raindrop.” His tone is serious.
A huff of annoyance escapes me and I lower my voice to a more seductive one. “You didn’t seem to mind my reputation back at the Academy, professor.”
“We aren’t at the Academy anymore. In my realm, at my court, you are titled. The heir to the gargoyle throne.” He pushes into my personal space. “Which is why you should heed this warning: a princess with a blemished reputation is like a queen with burned lands.”
I hold my breath and lean in a sliver more, so our lips are almost touching and I can inhale the breaths he releases.
“In what way?”
“Each may have once been lush and alluring. Yet, the heat of the flames overtook and consumed them, leaving only dark, scarred blemishes on something once beautiful.”
My eyes fall to his lips as I listen to the double meaning.
“Remember that, when my brother puts his hands on you tonight,” he adds in a cruel whisper before jerking away.
I avert my gaze, needing a moment to gather my composure, but when I swing it back to scathe him with my snarky response, he’s gone.
Vanished into thin air.
No doubt teleporting himself back his fiancée.
Trying to catch my breath, I watch as the last flicker of the glowing ash dies out. The sting of tears threatens, but I hold them back, turning and heading toward the house, hating myself for letting Tristan affect me the way he does.
I storm in and slam the glass doors shut behind me with a frustrated growl before stomping toward Zander, who is waiting for me by the pool table, amused at my state.
“Your brother is a moody, arrogant ass.”
Zander stands taller and twirls the pool stick like a sword. “Your Highness, is your honor in need of saving?”
I narrow my gaze. “Nope. Just my pride.”
“Pride is for the foolish of heart, champ.”
“Then my heart is officially the queen of foolishness.”
He puts the stick on the table and walks toward me until he’s standing right in front of me. Sighing, he reaches out and touches my cheek. His lips break out into a tense smile.
“Serena, we’re born to be real, not perfect. My brother bleeds just like everyone else.” He frowns as if the thought upsets him. “There is a heavy weight on his shoulders. He is to be the future king. He is engaged to someone he doesn’t love, or even like very much for that matter. His realm is on the brink of war. And the one he’s allowed himself to fall in love with just showed up to his unwanted wedding on the arm of his brother, who happens to be a devilishly good-looking, smart, sexy warrior. He has reason to be a moody ass. Wouldn’t you agree?”
I frown. “You might have overexaggerated a tiny bit.”
He pinches his brows. “How so?”
“Well,” I exhale. “For one, you aren’t that good-looking,” I tease. “Even if Mags gets all weak in the knees whenever you walk into a room and her eyes go all dopey.”
A bright grin forms on his lips. “Goddamn, she’s beautiful. Speaking of hot and sexy gargoyles from South Africa, Magali checked in. The Academy is silent and all is well. There have been no signs of the Diablo Fairies.”
My body sags with relief. “That’s good news.”
“It is, which means we can focus on the task at hand.”
I eye him curiously and slowly pull my cheek away from his warm palm, unsure of his intentions. “Which would be?”
He intertwines our fingers and drags me over to the couch, pulling me down dramatically.
“Finding evidence of treason against Oren and Ophelia.”
“You’re still stuck on that?”
He pins me with an unamused look.
I feign innocence. “Just confirming. What’s the plan?”
“Tomorrow morning, Queen Ophelia and Empress Consort Lily, Freya’s mother, are hosting a brunch on the castle grounds. You remember the gardens, right?” he asks.
“How could I forget?” My tone is dry. “You dragged me through the labyrinth when Ophelia announced it was Tristan who was to marry Freya, not you, during my last visit to the realm. I’m pretty sure I threw up on her roses.”
“You totally did; it was pretty gross—yet awesome at the same time.” He makes a pinched face and clears his throat. “On the other side of the coin, the gardens are where you and I became friends,” he ends on a light note, patiently waiting for me to respond and agree with him.
I lighten my tone. “Yes, of course. Good times.”
“And fond memories and all,” he adds, nodding.
“Please focus,” I plead.
“The plan: I figure, while everyone is toasting my brother and his future bride over bagels and schmear, you and I will take a little stroll through the castle, maybe raid the queen’s chambers, and see what we can find out.”
“Bagels and schmear?”
“It’s brunch.”
“Yes, I know—just, schmear?”
“Don’t judge; nymphs love cream cheese.”
I exhale loudly. “I see now why my dad agreed to our courtship. It’s weird how alike the two of you are.”
“They say most girls fall in love with guys who remind them of their dad,” he nods fondly. “And Callan is the best.”
I throw him a pointed glare. “We are not in love.”
“Because you picked the tortured, brooding, bad boy. Why do girls do this to themselves?” He pouts. “The good news for you is there is still time to change teams. Pick the handsome, funny, good guy,” he grins widely.
“No.”
“Oh!” he exclaims. “We could totally love triangle the shit out of this . . . ,” he trails off, deep in thought.
“Zander,” I snarl.
“Focusing. As I was saying, I’ve paid off some of the servants, asking that they keep their eyes and ears open. Hopefully someone has overheard or seen something.”
I glare at him. “Talk about invading your family’s privacy. Employees are not meant to be used as pawns.”
“I can’t help it that the staff gossips.”
I bite down on my lower lip. “What about Tristan?”
Zander seems confused. “I’m not
sure it would help to pay him off; he has no idea about any of this. For a gargoyle who protects, you’re very bad at this espionage stuff.”
I roll my eyes. “I mean, don’t you think it will be weird if he sees us just get up and leave in the middle of brunch?”
“Oh,” he laughs. “No. Whenever I bring someone that I am sleeping with, it’s common for us to dart out of meals.”
I eye him. “I’m pretty sure I should slap you on behalf of women everywhere for that comment.”
“I’m a nymph. Bedding the opposite sex is what I do. Anywhere. Anytime. Even over quiche,” he counters.
“But we aren’t sleeping together,” I remind him.
“Yes, but Tristan doesn’t know that.” He winks. “Nor does anyone else attending these events. In this realm, it wouldn’t seem odd for a male nymph to take the girl he’s courting out of sight for a bit. In fact, it’s expected.”
“On that note, you’ll be sleeping in the guestroom tonight. I’ll be in Tristan’s room,” I announce. “Clear?”
Zander frowns. “You don’t want to cuddle?”
“No offense, but no. Not with you.”
“Afraid that you’ll like it?”
I press my lips in a firm line. “I’m afraid you’ll like it.”
He pushes some hair out of his now-serious gaze. “All teasing aside, Serena, what I like is the way you love my brother. It’s honest and raw. Fierce and unwavering. True.”
I squeeze my eyes closed. “None of that matters.”
He takes my chin between his fingers. “He loves you.”
I open one eye. “You’re still sleeping in the guest room.”
“I should remind you that this charade was your idea. When we’re out, it should appear as if we’re a couple who are courting and dare I say, perhaps even like one another.”
“Understood.”
“Then stop flinching whenever I touch you.”
“I don’t flinch,” I argue.
“It’s like you can’t get away fast enough.”
“Sorry. It’s just weird.”
“Weird or not, I’m a nymph prince and general, which means at court, I have a reputation to uphold,” he states.
Tristan’s earlier warning floats around my head.
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