Nudging Fate

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Nudging Fate Page 5

by E. J. Russell


  Andy whisked his hands behind his back, shaking his head. “Oh no. I’ve got my own. Even if you can’t take it with you, you can enjoy it this week. After all, you don’t have to spend all your time being wooed and won by your prospective mates. You’re allowed some private time too.” Andy made a mental note to talk to Smith. There had to be some way to hack the e-reader so it could work in Faerie. Smith could figure it out if anyone could.

  Rey’s eyebrows drew together, and he cocked his head to one side. “It’s strange.”

  “What is? That you’re allowed private time?”

  “No. It’s just… whenever you talk about the candidates, it’s as if you’re not one of them.”

  “Oh.” Damn it. You could take the norn out of the event planner, but you couldn’t take the event planner out of the norn… “I guess I still can’t believe I’m here.” That’s for sure.

  “Well you seem to be an outstanding candidate to me. Anyone would be lucky to have you by his side.”

  Andy’s heart fluttered up against his rib cage. “That’s….” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.”

  “I find that hard to believe. You’re completely charming.” Rey leaned closer, and Andy couldn’t tear his gaze away from those deep brown eyes. They drew him forward, and Rey’s voice finished the job of reeling him in. “You’re—”

  A knock at the door startled Andy, and he nearly fell into Rey’s lap. He scrambled back as Brooke entered.

  “Good evening, gentlemen. I trust you’ve had a lovely dinner and have gotten to know one another better.”

  Did Rey look a tad angry at the interruption? Odin’s beard, were they about to get a taste of the infamous temper? Andy couldn’t let Brooke take the brunt of that. He primed himself to jump into the breach.

  But Rey stood and inclined his head. “Thank you. I must commend your staff. The food was superb. The amenities outstanding. And please convey my deepest admiration to your arborist. What he’s done with the trees… well, I’ve never seen anything so remarkable, and I live in Faerie.”

  “The trees?” Her eyes narrowed. “How did you—”

  “We went for a walk in the garden before dinner,” Andy said before Brooke could give anything away. “I told His Highness about the information packets and the tour that you’d supplied to us before his arrival.”

  “Ah. Of course.” One of her eyebrows—the one with the mother-of-pearl stud—twitched. “The tour.”

  Andy sidled toward the door, away from Rey’s seductive heat. “I’ve had a marvelous time, Your Highness.”

  Rey followed Andy across the carpet as if he were stalking a deer. “I thought we’d agreed that you’d call me Rey.”

  “Really?” Brooke’s voice rose an entire octave. “I’m not sure such informality is appropriate for this stage of the competition. You still have a half a dozen candidates waiting to meet you. Perhaps it would be best to save the informalities for a later round. After all, And—Sir Anders may be eliminated at the end of this one.”

  Rey met and held Andy’s gaze, and Andy felt as if he were a moth pinned in place by that gaze. “I sincerely doubt that.”

  “Yes, well….” Brooke glanced at Andy, her confidence clearly shaken by the heat in Rey’s tone. “I’ll bid you good night and escort Sir Anders back to his quarters. Your next date is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon at one o’clock, so please enjoy your morning. Our staff will be happy to serve you breakfast at your leisure.”

  “Thank you. Perhaps I’ll avail myself of the e-reader.” Rey’s mischievous grin turned Andy’s knees to water.

  “You should. You definitely should.” Andy took a half step back as Rey advanced toward him. “Good night.”

  “Good night.” Rey was standing right in front of Andy, close enough that Andy could feel his breath ghosting against his skin, sweet with mint and chocolate.

  Andy put his hand on Rey’s chest, to keep him at least a little distance away. I need to run. I need to go. I need Brooke to yank me the Hel out of here, what is she waiting for, he’s a prince, I can’t—

  Then Rey’s lips were on his, soft and supple and oh so warm, and Andy’s brain spiraled up to Valhalla. Instead of pushing him away, he fisted his hand in the lush velvet of Rey’s tunic and pulled him closer. Rey’s chest vibrated with a chuckle, and his mouth curved under Andy’s before he cupped the back of Andy’s head in one huge, gentle hand, his tongue teasing Andy’s bottom lip.

  Before Andy could open to him, Brooke cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, but time is really up. We can bend a little bit, but all the candidates must follow the rules or risk disqualification.”

  Rey drew back. “We can’t have that. I look forward too much to our next meeting, Andy.”

  Andy’s brain hadn’t returned Earthside yet. “Huh? Oh. Right.” Then suddenly he was all too earthbound. He’s a prince. He’s the client.

  And somehow, Andy had to forget that kiss, forget the man who had been equally charmed by dryad magic and Earthside technology, and remember that he had a job to do. And that even if fraternizing with the client wasn’t in total violation of Enchanted Occasions’ contract, a half-norn event planner could never ever be a match for a prince.

  ANDY arrived ten minutes late for his regular breakfast meeting with Brooke the next morning. After a truly hideous night’s sleep, the sunlight bouncing off the teapot hurt his eyes, and Brooke’s cheery—and no doubt smug—humming ratcheted up his annoyance quotient, making his ears twitch.

  “Are you still not speaking to me?” she asked, passing him a plate of raspberry-peach kringle.

  “Should I?” He took the plate of pastry and deliberately set it as far away from himself as possible on the small table, even though kringle, especially Chef’s signature take on kringle, was his favorite thing in the world.

  Well, almost his favorite. The prince’s kiss—

  Nope. Not going there. His dreams last night had been haunted by dark soulful eyes and silky dark hair and—stop it!

  She nudged the plate toward him. “You know what I think? You’re just pissy because you like him.”

  “Of course I like him. I like all our clients—as long as they pay on time and don’t devour the waitstaff.”

  “No, I mean you like him like him. Because that kiss?” She shook her hands, then splayed her fingers, webbing and all. “Whooo!”

  “Shut up.”

  “Why else would you show him the pigs?” Her tone was definitely accusatory. “Those are personal. An in-joke between Forrest and the trees.”

  “You realize how weird that sounds, right?”

  “I’m serious, Andy. If Forrest finds out you shared that with an outsider, he’ll feel totally betrayed, whether the trees mind or not.”

  He set his cup on its saucer with a clatter. “Betrayed? Really? I wouldn’t know anything about how that feels, seeing as my assistant and former best friend presented me to the prince as the first freaking candidate!”

  “Be reasonable. What other choice did we have? You should be thanking me—you were about to confess the whole mess and then who knows what shit would have flown?”

  “If we had told the truth then, we might have been able to salvage the situation. Rearrange things. Delay the final ceremonies for a couple of days—”

  “Nope.” Brooke shook her head, piercings flashing in the sunlight. “The coronation has to happen by the solstice and we’ve got every day from now until then booked solid.”

  “But don’t you see? Now that we’ve started with a lie, we can’t ever turn back. For the rest of the week, I can’t let the prince or Talus see me as an EO employee. How am I supposed to do my job? I won’t be able to set foot outside this suite for fear the prince or Talus might see me.”

  Her eyes narrowed over the rim of her teacup. “Funny you should mention that to me, since that’s exactly how I have to operate at every single one of our human bookings. And it’s where I’ll be
stuck forever if this gig isn’t a success.”

  Andy winced. “Aw, sweetie. I know. But there’s a difference.” He held up his hands to ward off her expression of outrage. “I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings, believe me. The difference is that the human clients don’t know you exist.”

  “That’s exactly my point.”

  “Not you specifically, but undines, demons, dryads, goblins—all of us. And my point is that our client, the one who’s paying the bills, not only knows I exist, she requested me specifically. By name.”

  Brooke’s outrage faded, and she bit her lip. “Oh. I forgot.”

  “Also, the candidates all know who I am. Do you think we can count on them keeping their mouths shut?”

  “Probably not. Although….” She brightened. “They never talk about anything but themselves, so maybe you’ll never come up as a subject.”

  “Comforting. But when it comes down to it, the only people who don’t know who I really am are Talus and the prince.”

  “But they both like you.” Her smile turned sly. “At least the prince certainly does, considering the way he was eyeing your ass.”

  Heat rushed up Andy’s throat, and with his stupid fair complexion, there was no way to hide his blushes. “That doesn’t matter. It can’t. Don’t you see? If it seems like the prince prefers me to any of the other candidates”—And really, how likely was that?—“do you think anyone will believe that I didn’t nudge Fate to make it happen?” He slumped in his chair. “I mean, how likely is it that all candidates were incapacitated at once?”

  “That was Johan. And Talus.” She tapped her lip with one silver fingernail. “I have to admit, I like the way Talus handled that.”

  Andy shuddered. “You need to read The Faerie Queene. You won’t be so eager to see him revert back to that type.”

  “Blood? Gore? Death and untold destruction?”

  “Pretty much.”

  She grinned, baring her extra-pointy incisors. “Sounds like my kind of party.”

  “And that is why nobody trusts undines any more than they trust norns. Or sirens. Or demons. Which reminds me, I want to talk to Smith about something this morning before everyone else is up and about.”

  “You know mornings aren’t his thing. He was probably up all night. Give him until later. You can talk to him after the prince and today’s prospective mate go off on their little excursion.”

  Andy sighed and picked up his tablet, scrolling to the agenda for the day. He wrinkled his nose. “Are we really sending an ifrit to a Frost Giant rugby scrum? That seems like tempting Fate.”

  “The prince is supposedly a rugby enthusiast, and he’s never seen the Frost Giants play.”

  Andy swirled the dregs of his tea and knocked it back. “It’s tough to hold on to your fan base when the players either freeze them solid or demolish the stands by the end of the first half.”

  “Exactly. That’s why Hashim is a good choice. He can keep the prince warm and the Frost Giants at bay.”

  Andy shifted in his chair, unaccountably irritated at the idea of anybody else keeping the prince warm. “I think we should send Hashim on the Mt. Etna tour instead. I mean, volcanoes? Totally in his wheelhouse. We can send Kjersti or Margit on the rugby scrum date.”

  “Are you kidding? They both loathe rugby. It’s in their profiles. In fact….” Brooke checked her own tablet. “Margit appears to loathe everything not related to fashion and personal comfort. Her own, not anybody else’s.”

  “Oh, fine.” Get over it. He’s beyond your reach. He’s a prince. He’s a client. And he’s about to get married to somebody else. He sighed, probably not fooling Brooke in the least. “If we—”

  A timid knock on the door was followed by Hazel’s entrance. “Pardon me, but if you have a few minutes?”

  “Sure.” Andy smiled and beckoned her closer. “Would you like some tea?”

  “Oh, no thank you. I just wanted to let you know that the prince declined the shave and massage services this morning.”

  Andy blinked. “Really? That was one of the specifications in the contract. One of the explicit demands.”

  Hazel shrugged. “Nevertheless, he refused, although he did ask for tea to be brought to him in the garden. He’s… er… taking breakfast under the dogwood tree.”

  Brooke shot Andy an accusatory glance. He ignored her. “The garden is there for his enjoyment, so you and your staff needn’t worry that you’ve done anything wrong. Thank you.”

  “Er… that’s not all.” She twisted her apron in her hands.

  “No?” Andy’s stomach sank. “Have the other candidates made unreasonable demands on you and your staff? If so, let me know and I’ll—”

  “No. That is, only insofar as we’ve been instructed to leave stomach-soothing remedies outside each of their rooms.”

  “They’re… they haven’t recovered? Did you see whether any of them looked any better? Did you—”

  “Don’t torture the poor girl, Andy.” Smith slouched into the room in his usual garage band grunge, the nubs of his horns barely visible in his shaggy curls. He cruised the breakfast buffet, filling a plate with bacon, sausage, and lox. “They wouldn’t let her in.”

  Brooke eyed Smith’s breakfast with revulsion. “And they made an exception for you? You never emerge from the tech room except for meals.”

  “You forget, I’m on call for tech support and gadget instruction, so they have something to take their minds off their suffering.” Smith sauntered over and dropped into an armchair. “By now, none of them are puking anymore—except that Johan dude. He may need an IV by the time this is over. They’ve made it to their beds, but the rash and swelling haven’t disappeared yet. Nobody’ll be ambulatory today, that’s for sure.” He shoved a sausage into his mouth, then met Brooke’s astonished glare. “What?”

  “You watched them? On your monitors?”

  “Only to check their status when Hazel couldn’t get a response from them. You know I don’t activate the cams without a reason. I’m a demon, not a perv. Besides….” He munched a slice of crispy bacon. “Most people are pretty dang boring when they’re hanging out by themselves.”

  Andy slid down until the base of his skull hit the ornate scroll on the chair back. “I can’t believe it. Last night’s deception”—The toe-curling kiss.—“was all for nothing. We’ll have to let the Queen know that we can’t meet the terms of the contract.”

  “Are you kidding?” Brooke kicked his ankle. “We have to keep going.” She snatched Smith’s plate away from him.

  “Hey!”

  “I need you to pay attention, which you can’t do when you’re shoving meat into your maw. Do you still know that witch? The one with the sideline in internal medicine?”

  “I think he’s actually a doctor with a sideline in witchcraft, but yeah.”

  “Can you get him over here?”

  Smith smirked. “With the right incentive.”

  “Fine. Do it. I’ll get Talus, and we’ll pump Johan for what poison he used in the adaptation elixir.”

  Andy wrinkled his nose. “I’m sure that will go well.”

  “It will if I can get Talus to take the whammy off Johan so he stops hurling long enough to go home. If we know the poison, Smith’s witch-doctor friend can whip up an antidote and we’ll have the candidates on their feet by tomorrow. For today, Andy, you’re the date du jour.”

  Andy shared a disgusted glance with Smith. “Don’t we get a say in this?”

  He stole his plate back. “Nope. But I never do, so you know, whatever.”

  “Brooke.” Andy pushed himself upright. “I’m not exactly welcome in Jotunheim.”

  “Are you barred from entry?”

  “No. But if anyone recognizes me, they’ll accuse me of influencing the scrum and the whole place will erupt in a riot.”

  “Even when you’re not there, those stupid things always erupt in a riot, so what’s the difference?” She shrugged. “Just keep a low profile. Wear a
hat. And slouch.”

  He glared at her. “Oh, yes, that’s a brilliant disguise. Besides, I can’t go on a second consecutive date with the prince. It’s against the rules.”

  “Eh….” Smith waggled his hand. “That’s a very gray area.”

  “And gray is all we’ve got at the moment.” Brooke turned Andy to face the door and gave him a gentle shove. “Suck it up, Skuldsson. It’s showtime.”

  Chapter Six

  CON couldn’t remember spending a more pleasant morning—perhaps in his life. Hours spent under the dogwood tree, leaves and blossoms murmuring overhead, as he read snatches of five different books on the e-reader. The Enchanted Occasions staff and the resort employees—although they might all work for EO, for all Con knew—had shown him a degree of consideration for his wishes, unobtrusively seeing to his comfort.

  Rey’s comfort, not mine. He needed to remember that. But the morning was over and his next appointment with a prospective consort was approaching. He studied himself in the mirror, smoothing the tunic—another red velvet one, of course. Talus had arranged the transport of Rey’s wardrobe before they knew Rey had decided to shirk his responsibilities again.

  Don’t think like that. Rey would be back in time for the coronation and handfasting ceremony. He’d promised. Con could grant him this last taste of freedom.

  Although he couldn’t banish the dread that pooled in his belly—under all that red velvet—at the thought of spending the day with another candidate. One who wasn’t Andy. He’d almost rather return to his boring life as a Faerie persona non grata, with nothing more alarming to look forward to than another solitary meal, or an hour at the base of his mother’s doorless tower, hoping for a glimpse of her when her single window was unshuttered to allow the guards to hoist up her week’s rations.

  He was a little surprised that Talus hadn’t stopped by to check on him this morning. Could he have been called back to Faerie? Gloriana had been annoyed that Talus had insisted on accompanying Rey for the week—a definite wrinkle had marred the alabaster skin between her perfect eyebrows—but Talus was right. He wasn’t subject to her rule. As a man made of iron, he was proof against her magic.

 

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