by Sophie Oak
“You’re a genius,” he said with a smile. He got up and kissed her briefly.
“That’s what the IQ tests tell me,” Ashley quipped.
He winked at her as he made for the door. He had a lot to do. He could shower later.
* * * *
The minute the door slammed, Ashley made the call. She didn’t bother to change into more professional clothes. It wasn’t like the man hadn’t seen her naked. It also wouldn’t hurt to remind him of what he was missing while she was on this particular job.
“What is it?” Chalen Palgrave asked, his voice rough. There was an edge of impatience to his tone that never left no matter what the situation was.
He had picked up immediately. Ashley knew he’d been waiting for her call. He’d been waiting for any kind of information she could dig up on the Dellacourts’ son. She was slightly satisfied that his eyes went immediately to her breasts. She noted that he was still in his office. He rarely left it these days. Since his brother had disappeared six months before, Chalen spent all his time at work. He had to if he wanted to keep Palgrave Industries from going under.
“He’s been ordered to get married or face disinheritance.” Ashley sat forward, waiting for his approval.
It was not forthcoming. “And this is news? What could you expect after the disgraceful way he behaved this evening? His father should have disowned him right then and there. It proves Alexander Dellacourt’s poor morality that he did not. The Dellacourts have no honor. What should we expect? They’re one generation off the surface. Dirtwalkers, every one of them.”
It took everything Ashley had not to roll her eyes. She had rapidly discovered that the royals thought along different lines. They always thought about the big picture and rarely thought about how important small cracks could be. A peasant understood all about small cracks. Ashley’s whole life had been a delicate balance.
“If he’s invested in finding a wife, I think his newfound work ethic is going to get shelved. He’s been much more serious about work. He thinks he has something going in bio-med,” Ashley explained. “He can’t work too hard if he’s looking for a wife. He’ll let his guard down. Better yet, if his father really does kick him out, he’ll be vulnerable.”
“Why wouldn’t he just marry the first consort he sees? I would,” Chalen pointed out.
“You don’t know Dante the way I do. He’s furious at the thought of being put in a corner. He’s going to choose someone guaranteed to enrage his father.” She held up a small recording device. “And I’ve got the proof. How is Alexander Dellacourt going to react when he hears his son plotting to embarrass his family? The press will eat it up. He’ll get kicked to the surface, and the Dellacourts will have more to worry about than the political situation on Tir na nÓg. Dante Dellacourt will be vulnerable, and the Finn twins will lose their biggest backers. You can push the government to declare for Torin. It won’t be long before all three are dead.”
“I want the girl dead, too,” Chalen said between clenched fangs.
Ashley was a bit startled by that pronouncement. The girl in question was a consort. Meg Finn was valuable. If her husbands were dead, she would be fair game to any royal vampire without a consort. Consorts were precious. A royal even considering harming a consort was a shocking thought. She carefully schooled her features. “I’m sure that can be arranged. Are you still in contact with the king?”
Chalen nodded. “I speak with King Torin daily. I am attempting to convince him to make his plea directly to our government. The twins are accusing him of all manner of crimes. He needs to show that he is the one who turned over the tyranny of their father’s reign.”
“Do you actually believe that?”
“Of course not. He killed his own brother and would have murdered his nephews if he hadn’t proven incompetent. This is about perception, not truth. If I can move the members of the senate to Torin’s side, I can isolate the bastards responsible for my brother’s death.”
Ashley didn’t bother to point out that Kinsey Palgrave’s body had never been recovered. He had simply vanished after telling his brother he was going after a consort on the refugee plane. Chalen Palgrave had figured out the consort in question was Megan Finn. As Meg Finn’s husbands were alive and well and his brother was missing, Chalen had drawn certain conclusions. He was going to have his revenge on the Finns and the Dellacourts. He had placed his own “beloved” mistress into his enemy’s bed, Ashley thought bitterly. He would not be swayed by anything so simple as logic.
“I need a copy of that tape,” Chalen ordered. His face softened for a moment. “You’ve done well, Ash.”
She kept her eyes demurely down. “Thank you, sir. I only hope to serve you.”
She would never, ever let him know that Dante Dellacourt was ten times the lover he was. She would never let him know that she actually kind of liked the bastard. This was war, and her personal feelings would only get her in trouble.
“Keep me updated,” he said before cutting the connection.
Ashley sighed and stood. One day she would have a nice, normal job with Palgrave Industries. She would get married to someone of her own caste and live in the happy normalcy of the mid-levels. She would never go to the surface again, but she’d learned that living in the upper heights with the royals was just too dangerous for her.
She stared down at the tape that would likely cost Dante Dellacourt his lofty position. It wasn’t fair, she knew, but she downloaded it and shipped it to Chalen Palgrave’s address. She hoped it was all over soon so she could get on with her life.
Chapter Two
Dante rubbed his head as he walked into the small kitchen. He didn’t actually eat solid food. He dined on prime grade meal pills, but there was an ultramodern food preparation appliance in deference to the home’s inhabitants with fully functional digestive tracts. He glanced around, slightly relieved to see that his mother was not present. Only Cian sat at the table, munching on a piece of toast and drinking a fragrant tea. Dante poured himself a cup and thought briefly about adding just a little Scotch.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Cian said, never looking up from the book he was reading. Dante caught sight of a bunch of equations that would make his head hurt even more. “It will get back to your father that you’re drinking before noon, and you’ll never hear the end of it.”
Dante groaned a little, but his tea was alcohol free as he sat across from his cousin. “Fine. I’m in enough trouble as it is. What are you doing up so early? Shouldn’t you be screwing your wife or something?”
Cian grinned as he looked up. He didn’t even come close to taking Dante’s bait. “Meggie’s tired. She had a long night. I thought I’d let her sleep her in. You look worse for the wear, cousin.”
“Thanks,” Dante grunted.
He hadn’t slept well, but he didn’t need to be reminded by Cian. His cousin looked fresh as a daisy. Cian looked every bit the young royal. He was dressed in casual clothes, but there was no doubt the man was a king. He simply lacked his throne.
Cian formed the intellectual half of the king. He was one half of symbiotic twins, a rare condition in Fae royals. He shared a soul with his twin, Beck, who formed the warrior half of the duo. Of the two, Dante had always felt closer to Ci. Cian had been his playmate when they were young. Many summers had been spent at the White Palace playing with Cian and Bronwyn. Dante’s heart clenched at the thought of sweet, mischievous Bronwyn. She was gone forever, killed by her own uncle’s thugs.
“If it’s any consolation, I think you did the right thing,” Ci said in his musical accent. “None of those women were right for you.”
“My father would disagree,” Dante replied, thinking about the fight last night. It didn’t seem real, but his father had been serious. He had to get married or get out.
Cian shrugged negligently. “I’ve found parents don’t always know their children the way their peers do. I wouldn’t have picked any of those women for you, cos.”
Dant
e was curious. “Who would you pick?”
“Someone like Meggie,” Ci said. There was nothing about his attitude that made Dante think he was anything but serious. Dante felt himself flush. He thought he’d kept his little crush to himself.
“Meg isn’t anything like the women I date,” he muttered. Meg was far smarter and kinder than the women he dated.
Cian laughed. “No, she isn’t. That’s the trouble. Everyone you meet here is going to be influenced by your name. They might hate you or want you, but somewhere in there, they’re reacting to the fact that you’re Dante Dellacourt, heir to Dellacorp.”
Dante snorted. He didn’t mention to his cousin that he might not be heir to anything at all soon. “So, that’s just the way it is.”
He wasn’t going to meet anyone who didn’t know who he was. Even among the Fae, he was known as the kings’ cousin. There were very few places worth visiting where he wasn’t known for something.
“Meggie didn’t know who you were, and she couldn’t have cared less,” Cian pointed out. “She likes you for who you are and what the two of you went through together.”
“She told you about that?” Dante was surprised.
He and Meg hadn’t talked about the day in the forest when they’d saved Beck and Cian’s lives. He knew Meg still had nightmares about how close they came to losing them. He tried not to think of it. That day had pointed out all the things wrong with his own life. Meg had been perfectly prepared to die if it meant saving her husbands. He didn’t have anything he was ready to die for.
“Of course,” Cian replied with sarcastic lilt. “I know that Meggie nearly died killing the hag, and you took care of the hag’s wee kitty cat.”
Dante sat up and pointed a long finger. “Hey, that was a damn vicious cat. I had scars for…well, a couple of minutes. I can’t help it if I heal quickly. I still don’t like cats.” He shuddered slightly.
Cian was smiling. “Nonetheless, your relationship with my Meg is based on mutual affection. It has nothing to do with your wealth or the company. It’s why you’ve spent the last six months mooning over her.”
“Am I that obvious?” Dante asked, conceding the point.
“Not to Beck or Meg,” Cian offered. “But I know you better than they do. I also know that you’re not really in love with her. She’s just the first woman who you could be sure liked you for you. You need to find someone who has no idea who you are.”
“And that female exists where?” Dante knew it was a stretch. He wouldn’t be going to any of the far-out planes soon.
“You’ll find her,” Cian said with a smooth smile. Dante was glad his cousin was so very sure. Cian set his ridiculously advanced math text aside and looked slightly thoughtful. “We’re leaving for home tomorrow. Do you want to come with us? We have a meeting with the king of the Unseelie in a few weeks. I’d love for you to be there. You won’t even have to sleep in the barn. We added an extra bedroom. One of these days, we’re going to need it.”
Dante felt his heart rate speed up. He wanted to be there. If Beck and Ci were willing to meet with King Fergus, it meant one thing. They were willing to talk about taking back their throne. Politics. That really interested Dante. It also wouldn’t hurt to be gone for a little while. Maybe his father would cool down…
Beck walked into the kitchen. He held Meg’s hand, and he looked completely happy. Meg was still yawning, but she was adorable to Dante. “I’m afraid we have to cut our visit short, brother.”
“What’s wrong?” Dante asked, concerned. Torin was always a threat. He would feel better if his cousins would simply move into the Dellacorp Building, but they had obligations to their people.
Beck snatched the toast out of his brother’s hand, earning him a dirty stare. He merely smiled and chewed gamely. Meg rolled her eyes and set herself on Cian’s lap. She happily nuzzled his neck while Beck spoke.
“I got a call from Rhys. He’s got a serious problem. The Planeswalker brought him a bondmate from a plane he is unfamiliar with. She’s causing trouble. She won’t talk or eat, and she’s attempted to kill the few men brave enough to try her,” Beck explained.
“What does he expect?” Meg asked, sounding very irritated. “Who knows what the poor girl was doing when a demon kidnapped her. Maybe she was about to buy a really nice pair of shoes. Now she’ll never get those shoes.”
“I’m sorry, lover,” Cian replied, running his tongue over the shell of her ear. “I can’t make up for your footwear. It’s a tragedy.”
She slapped playfully at him. “You know what I’m saying. It’s not easy to be in that position. I should know. It can be very scary.”
Beck smiled down at his bride, his eyes lit with love. “Yes, love, you seemed very frightened by me. I remember you spit bile at me the first time we met.”
Meg reached up and touched her warrior husband’s cheek. “I remember that encounter very differently, husband. But I was frightened. I didn’t understand what was happening.”
Beck nodded, his face tight with emotion. “I understand, love. We’ll do what we can.”
“We’re going to the marketplace to talk to her. It might help to talk to another female,” Meg said. “They say she looks human, so she might talk to me. The gnomes aren’t threatening, but they seem weird if you haven’t seen them before. Rhys says she’s violent and should be put down.”
“He wants to kill her?” Dante was shocked at the thought.
The woman hadn’t asked to be brought to another plane and sold in the marketplace. Dante knew that most of the women who were sold at the market actually requested the sale. It was considered a reasonable way to find a mate. If a man had enough money to buy a wife, it probably meant he could afford to support one. In the Fae world, outside of nobility, it was a very common practice. Only bondmates and consorts from other planes were brought in and forcibly sold. “Why doesn’t he just let her go?”
Beck sighed. “For several reasons. He’s been contracted to sell her. Those demons are damned serious about their contracts. If Rhys simply lets her go, he’ll be in violation. There’s also the fact that he has no idea what he’ll be letting loose. He doesn’t know how to get her back to her home.”
“We’re going to find a way,” Meg vowed. Her face was solemn. “I won’t let anyone put her down like an animal.”
“Of course not, darlin’,” Beck agreed, but there was worry in his eyes. Dante knew that sometimes it wasn’t easy to be the king. “We’ll figure out some way to help the poor girl.”
“You say she’s violent?” Dante heard himself ask. His brain was working overtime. A violent woman who could serve as a consort. A woman who frightened the gnomes. A woman who tried to kill the men who touched her. She sounded awful—and a little perfect.
“That’s what Rhys said,” Beck corrected. “He says she’s out of control. The women can’t get close to her cage.”
“And you’re sure she’s a consort?”
“Again, according to Rhys, she is. The demon said she glows. I could tell you if she was a bondmate. Bondmates can usually pass for consorts, too.” Beck’s voice became suspicious. “Why? Do you want to come and have a look at her, then? You could tell just by looking at her.”
Cian was staring at Dante with narrowed eyes, but he said nothing.
Dante shrugged. He would be able to tell if the girl was a consort by her glow. It appeared as a slight halo around the consort’s form. It was a lovely, infinitely appealing sight to the royal vampire. “Sure, why not?”
It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. It wouldn’t hurt to go take a look at the girl. He got up to follow his cousins out. At the very least, he would meet someone who didn’t know who he was.
* * * *
It was late in the afternoon when Dante found himself walking through the marketplace following Beck as he strode toward his goal. The door between the Vampire plane and this plane—a refugee plane—was easily accessible. There were hundreds of ways to get to different pla
nes. Vampire scientists had theorized that there were still thousands of planes to be discovered. Many scientists would love to work with the Planeswalker clans to map out all the different doors. Unfortunately, the Planeswalkers came from a plane called Hell, and they didn’t have a problem with eating scientists.
Rhys of the Gentle Hills had the largest and most impressive tent in the marketplace. There was no question the gnome had done well for himself in the years since the civil war in Tir na nÓg.
Rhys’s tent was at the center of the small village, and everything had built up around it. Dante liked the marketplace. It was filled with the weird and wonderful things that could be found across the planes of existence. He even liked the feel of dirt beneath his feet. The surface on this plane was radically different from his home. It was closer to Tir na nÓg. This particular plane had been deserted when Beck and Cian had fled their home. It had been used by vampires as a place to hunt in the old ways and to raise cattle.
There was no smog here. The sun was bright and everything was open and airy. At home, the surface was tight and confined. Sometimes, the sun didn’t get past the clouds of pollution that clung close to the surface. It was why most vampires who could afford it never left their high homes.
Dante adjusted the hood of his jacket to better cover his pale skin. The sun was stronger on the Faery planes. His sunglasses had already adjusted to the light. The nanites in his clothing adapted quickly to keep his temperature in an optimal range and ensure the ultraviolet light didn’t burn him.
But what would it be like to walk unclothed in the sunlight? What would it be like to laze about unencumbered by clothing while the warmth of the sun kissed his skin? He would never tell anyone, but that was what had attracted him to the sunscreen project.