Special Deceptions (The Coursodon Dimension Book 5)

by M. L. Ryan

  “That’s true, and where I’m from, there isn’t a royal family to gripe about.” But plenty of other reasons to bear a grudge based on perceived differences.

  “You know,” Ziqua began haltingly. “Beyond your country’s lack of a sovereign, I understand your reluctance to take on monarchical duties. They are tedious, mostly pointless, and constituted my primary reason for never marrying Fry.”

  “Xina said something similar,” I noted. “But, Uncle Fry said you stayed his mistress because you offered no strategic political alliances.”

  Her lips curved into a small grin. “And I said it was my justification for not tying the knot. Being the king’s consort isn’t easy; I much preferred to stay as Fry’s mistress. It doesn’t require being regal all the time.”

  She seemed regal enough to me: well mannered, beautifully put together, and almost sinfully attractive. Being the long-term inamorata to a king wasn’t a bad gig, I supposed, but there was one major problem. “Aren’t you ever bothered about having to share him?”

  “Not really. I’ve been with him through two wives. His queens come and go, but I am the one constant.”

  “I heard Sylzinia has her own lover. Do you ever, uh, take a guy on the side?”

  “No. Do you cheat on Alexander when you are not physically together?”

  “Of course not,” I sputtered.

  “Then why would you think I would?” she asked, challenge in her honey-colored eyes.

  I held my hands out in front of me. “Hey, I only asked because Fry obviously isn’t monogamous.”

  Her fierce expression softened. “I don’t really think about if he and Sylzinia get it on. If they do, I suspect it doesn’t happen very often. Even when Fry visits other countries and must include Sylzinia, I accompany the traveling party, as does whomever Sylzinia is seeing. I can count the number of nights this year he hasn’t been in my bed on two hands, and most of those are because I’ve been sleeping in this lovely dungeon.”

  “Wow. That’s all so creepy and civilized at the same time.” I refrained from asking if they’d ever had a foursome; I thought I’d already crossed the line with marginally inappropriate questions.

  “It works for us,” she conceded, shrugging. “I never wanted to attend ribbon-cutting ceremonies or be constantly in the public eye. I suspect you do not wish for that either.”

  “Definitely not my first choice, that’s for sure.”

  Ziqua crossed her arms across her ample chest. “We are more alike than you’d like to admit. Adventurous, take-no-crap women who happened to fall in love with powerful men.”

  “At least when you met Fry, he was already a king; you knew what you were in for.”

  “True, I imagine being thrust into this life is a bit overwhelming.”

  “Overwhelming doesn’t even come close to describing it,” I complained. “More like a world-altering, punch you in the gut, fast track to crazy town.”

  She patted my hand. “It will get better. Although, I don’t envy your continuing relationship with Rexa. Even without trying to have you killed,” she added with a mischievous glint in her eye. “She isn’t the easiest person to get along with.”

  “No kidding. I thought my mother was difficult. Although, I suspect Rexa never gave Tannis’ suitors a pre-date contract to sign detailing exactly what constituted a proper escort.”

  A melodious chuckle burbled in Ziqua’s throat. Crap, even that sounded beautiful. “No,” she countered. “Rexa would simply send some well-muscled guards to accompany her on the excursion. But, really, your mother made your boyfriends sign a contract?”

  “Yep. The damn thing was so embarrassing, it’s no wonder we hardly ever went out more than once with a guy. When a teenage boy has to vow to ‘never touch, fondle, or grab any portion of my daughter’s body not deemed appropriate to be exposed during church services’ and agree to ‘a single, closed-lipped kiss at the doorway, not to last more than two seconds and only after the fifth date,’ you usually don’t make it to a second.”

  “You are making that up.”

  I drew an X across my heart and then pointed the finger skyward. “I swear it’s the truth. The woman is nuts. Unfortunately, it never occurred to my mom that any of her little angels might be the aggressor,” I said, grinning. “My sister Sara was quite adept at keeping to the letter of the law, if not its intent. You’d think my parents would get suspicious that she had guys falling all over themselves to give their oath not to despoil her. The funny part was my mom clung to the illusion Sara was the chaste one; she probably polished the knobs of half the boys in her class before she graduated.”

  Ziqua smirked. “And you called me Deep Throat.”

  Damn it. I hated when Ziqua did something that made me like her.

  *****

  Much later, when Alex returned to the Brig and Breakfast, Ziqua and I were cackling so hard we didn’t notice him.

  “I’m glad to see you’ve worked out your differences,” he shouted over our ribald glee.

  It took a few moments, but we finally settled down enough to speak.

  “My word, Alexander,” Ziqua panted, trying to catch her breath. “I had no idea Hailey was so hilarious. I almost peed my pants.”

  Hearing The Classy One admit she’d come close to losing bladder control struck me as absurdly funny, and as soon our eyes met, we dissolved back into uncontrollable laughter.

  Alex stood patiently, waiting for our latest giggle fest to wind down. In truth, I had to force myself to stop because my sides ached.

  “I’d ask what was so amusing, but I’m afraid recounting it would just set you two off again,” he said, taking a seat.

  “I don’t even remember what started it,” I admitted. “I think we’re a little slap happy.”

  Alex held out a sheet of light yellow paper. “Whatever the inspiration for your amusement, this should put you in a less lighthearted mood.”

  The writing was in Courso; most of which were words I didn’t know. One, however, stood out: Boklym. “Did they finally snag the smarmy asshole?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Alex said, handing the page to Ziqua.

  The last semblance of merriment drained from her face as she scanned the sheet. “Boklym’s EMS matched Hailey’s first injury?”

  I grabbed the report from her and stared at it as if I could read the damn thing. “He snuck back into Courso, came here, and shot me?” I sputtered. “What the fuck did I ever do to him?” Other than not fucking him, I supposed, but that hardly seemed a reason to want me dead.

  “Well, you did make mincemeat out of his testicles,” Ziqua recalled. “Men tend to be rather protective of them. But, I see your point. To risk capture to avenge bruised dangly bits is hard to swallow. Pun intended,” she said with a crooked grin. “I thought Boklym had no previous magical criminal record. How was there an EMS on file?”

  “It was all over his house in Jjestri,” Alex replied. “Sebastian had the good sense to have the place scanned and the results entered into the central database.”

  “I guess this blows my linked plot idea out of the water,” I concluded.

  “This new wrinkle doesn’t add or take away from your theory,” Alex reasoned. “Knowing Boklym tried to kill you doesn’t automatically tie him to Kyzal, but the likelihood of two murder plots within a short period of time directed against the same family is too much of a coincidence to ignore.”

  Ziqua nodded. “There is one bright spot in all this. If Boklym is desperate enough to walk right back to those who are searching for him, he’s not a smart as we thought. It is just a matter of time before he is caught.”

  “Yes,” Alex agreed. “Hopefully, he will be apprehended soon.”

  “Hopefully before he improves his aim,” I muttered.

  “I hate that you are in danger,” Alex bristled, his voice suddenly sharper. “I should be out there, doing what I’ve been trained for, protecting you. Instead, I’m signing proclamations and meeting with vapid diplomats.”
He glanced at my left hand. “And why the hell are you not wearing the ring?” he bellowed.

  “Alex, settle down,” I said with the same modulated tone used when talking a jumper off a ledge on a high-rise. “One of the stones was loose; I gave it to the Wiqyrd dirthyxa to take to a jeweler. It should be back tomorrow.”

  He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

  “It’s okay. We’re all on edge.” Alex yelled so infrequently that when he did let it rip, it was usually over something rippable. This time, he went postal on me, and over something fairly trivial, considering what we’d been dealing with.

  “Until this is sorted out, I do not want you leaving the palace, not even to form-bend.”

  Wow. He was certainly getting the hang of the proclamations. “I have to transform regularly,” I argued. “Otherwise, I’ll get thywipiz. Or thywipized—whatever the word is.”

  Alex’s eyes narrowed into slits. Beautiful, violet-blue ones, but slits nonetheless. “I am not familiar with that term.”

  Not only was he taking the whole macho thing a bit too far, he was also going contractionless. I was used to Sebastian’s disdain for making two words shorter by placing an apostrophe in place of the missing letters, but Alex had no such contempt for the common English cheat. That only meant one thing—he hadn’t really calmed down much. His use of multisyllabic esoterica or throbbing head veins was not far behind.

  “It’s the side effects from not bending regularly. Irritability, mood swings, fatigue, achy joints and muscles. Like menopause, but you still get a period.”

  Ziqua frowned. “What a bad deal. That’s the only good part about menopause.”

  “This thywipiz appears to be quite bothersome indeed.” Alex nodded solemnly. “I certainly would not want you to endure such hardship. You may bend, but only into your hawk embodiment and you must limit your flights to the palace grounds.”

  I gave myself a mental high five for predicting the onslaught of big words usually not in his vocabulary. “That, I can do. Besides, I don’t think I’ve mastered the Xterixa thing yet. I’m beginning to think I only changed into Birdzilla because I got shot.”

  “About that,” Alex remarked. “I spoke with Hewlyxnathin. He believes the pre-bend consumption of his elixir had as much to do with your transformation as the pain and the lack of mental focus. It is not meant as an aperitif. It’s more of a nightcap.”

  “It would have been nice for him to be a little more specific with the dosage instructions,” I griped. “Well, I guess it’s official. There definitely was no conscious intent involved in changing into my second form.” I suspected as much, but the reality was hugely disappointing. And a little scary. It was bad enough knowing I could shift into a monster; not having control over it was a whole different animal.

  “You may not have bent completely of your own volition, but we were able to force you to change back into your natural form this time. That is progress,” Alex pointed out.

  “Yeah, I’d hate to be spending a lot of time like that. The paparazzi would have a field day.”

  Alex winced. “I’m afraid they already are, but if it’s any consolation, the majority of the coverage is quite positive.”

  For an instant, an inscrutable expression passed over his face. I’d have spent more time wondering what it meant, but the return of contractions to his vocabulary thrilled me to distraction. As long as he’d calmed down, I felt comfortable asking more questions.

  “What’s the negative stuff about?”

  “You know, the usual anti-form-bender rhetoric.”

  “Is it as nasty as the anti-half-human crap?”

  Alex considered his answer. “Both groups are small, but similarly vocal. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say they were about equal in their intolerance.”

  “Really? Seems like the no-animals-in-the-future-king’s bedders would be more over the top than the no-less-than-pure-Courso-for-our-future-queen contingent.”

  “That’s probably true, Hailey,” Ziqua interrupted. “But the segment of the population that reveres Yterixa will be over the moon to discover you are also Xterixa, and they are a much larger proportion of the population. I’m no expert, but I’ve never heard of anyone transforming into an animal that doesn’t actually exist. You could be the new poster child for form-benders.”

  At this point, Alex was probably wondering why he didn’t fall in love with a nice, magically normal Courso aristocrat so he could avoid all the drama. I didn’t want to be the face of anything, certainly not for an ability that wasn’t rightfully mine or I hadn’t completely mastered. Time to change the subject.

  “Do you think Boklym is still nearby? Or did he manage to slip in and out of Alenquai?”

  Alex’s expression tightened. “The Royal Guards have not yet ascertained that information. That he was able to enter the area at all is cause for concern that they are not performing their appointed duties.”

  “Were they supposed to be on the lookout for Boklym?” I asked. “I thought that the Royal Guards were supposed to, well, guard the royals, not search for an asshole at-large.”

  “They are not,” he fumed. “But in their capacity to protect us, they should have been aware of Boklym’s wrongdoings against you and kept a watchful eye.”

  That seemed a bit of a stretch, but I decided not to press the issue. Alex’s tension index was obviously back in the danger zone, and I was getting mental whiplash trying to keep up with his rapidly changing mindset. And I was worried about my mood swings.

  “So, what happens now?”

  “As I said, you are staying in the palace while the Xyzok continue to investigate Kyzal’s murder, your attempted murder, and any other new crimes perpetrated against my family that seem likely to pop up in the future.” Alex fixed me with a critical stare any mother would have been proud of. “I mean it, carisa. You do not leave these grounds, even with an escort.”

  “What, like you can’t trust me to stay put?”

  “I trust you will get bored and find some excuse to get more involved than you need to be,” he warned. “I cannot stress enough how serious this is.”

  “Hey, Blondie, I’m well aware of the seriousness of the situation.” The wounds made by the Guards and the Xyzok, while mostly healed, still ached. Even if they hadn’t, I’d not soon forget how being pummeled with arcane energy felt, or how close I came to dying. “Don’t worry about me,” I confirmed, lacing my fingers in his. “I have no desire to put myself in any danger.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “That does not mean none exists.”

  28

  Alex was right about the boredom. Not that I made a habit of wandering around outside of the palace, but now that I couldn’t, all I could think about were all the things I might be doing if I had ventured into town. Since I’d been back in Alenquai, I hadn’t thought much about resuming my tat-’til-you-bend fascination. Now, two days into my Alex-ordered incarceration, all I wanted was to get some new ink.

  “You could ask the fellow who did yours before to come to the palace,” Tannis suggested when I confided I found my undecorated flesh unbearably, well… bare. “I’m sure he’d jump at the chance.”

  “I know, but then I’d miss out on the ambiance of the tattoo place.” I curled my legs underneath me on the smallest of the many sofas decorating the newly discovered—for me, anyway—Mid-Morning Salon. Every time I thought I’d completed the Tour de Manse, I found yet another room for people to sit in. But not comfortably—it was as if every piece of furniture was chosen to ensure no one lingered too long and, while seated, retained regal posture for fear of otherwise doing permanent damage to one’s back. I figured if I couldn’t go into town, I’d be rebellious and slouch with my ankles daintily crossed.

  Tannis wrinkled her nose. “I’ve only been in one, but I’d hardly call a dimly lit, hole-in-the-wall that blares loud music ambiance.”

&nbs
p; “The one’s I’ve frequented all had a certain maverick vibe. I like the nonconformist attitude.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” she replied, grinning. “If you want, I can make inquiries. I’m sure if your artist balks at the idea of slumming with the upper crust, we can find another talented one who is willing to lower his or her standards.”

  “Since whatever I get isn’t permanent, it doesn’t even matter if they are good,” I pointed out. “But, speaking of slumming, what’s the latest dirt on you and Ulut?”

  Tannis planted her hands on her hips in mock disdain. “You of all people should know there’s no standard lowering when it comes to him.”

  “Who said I was talking about Ulut?”

  Ignoring the obvious jest, she gazed dreamily into the distance and mused, “He is unlike any other man I’ve ever met.”

  No shit. He’s a man-dog from the third dimension. Not many of those around to date.

  I nodded my head enthusiastically. “He’s a great guy. Where is Mr. Wonderful? I haven’t seen him around today.” In truth, I hadn’t seen him much since I’d inadvertently caught them together in Tannis’ quarters. Then again, I’d been a little busy.

  “Alex asked him to help Sebastian find Boklym.” She paused. “It was bad enough Boklym tried to manipulate you in Jjestri, but an assassination attempt? It’s mind boggling.”

  “I know,” I agreed. “I was shocked when I found out he’d tried to kill me.” Although, I didn’t know why I was so surprised. Was it really a huge stretch for someone slimy enough to attempt date rape and then alert the press to my supposed infidelity to move on to something more terrible?

  I glanced at the porcelain clock on the fireplace mantle. The timepiece, resting in front of a portrait of a grim-faced and long-dead relative, was the only thing in the entire room that looked like something I might tolerate in my own home. Everything else was overly gilded, tufted, or otherwise way too formal and uncomfortable for my taste, much like the other salons I’d visited so far.