Huntress

by Susan Copperfield

  “Close enough.”

  “Moving on. What real news do you have for me?”

  “Princess Abigail visiting is real news.”

  I glared at my mother. “Mom.”

  “Fine, fine. Congress is getting edgy because you’re not married yet. They’re going to be pushing you hard this year. By pushing you hard, I mean they’ve made a long list of eligible ladies they hope will interest you. There was even an hour-long debate about dumping you on an island with a few candidates.”

  “I refuse to be marooned with a bunch of women.”

  “I thought it was a good idea.”

  “There will be some new rules. One: if Congress—or anyone—throws Gail or Princess Abigail at me, I’m abdicating in favor of Grégoire. Two: if anyone maroons me on an island with a bunch of women, I’m abdicating. Three: if uninvited women show up in my room, I’m abdicating and possibly murdering my parents along with the entirety of Congress.”

  “I’ll let them know you’re uninterested. Wait. Are you interested in someone and haven’t told your dear old mother yet?”

  “I’m definitely not interested in Gail.”

  “Fine. I’ll find someone else to be Princess Abigail’s lady-in-waiting.”

  How would the huntress who’d tried to shoot me full of arrows handle a princess? The thought of it was enough to make me grin. If I could find her, could I entice her into accepting a position at the castle? The first half of my battle would be luring her close. The second would be netting her and turning the tables on her.

  Success came in so many forms, and I could readily pick one job she’d thrive at: security.

  “I’m not sure I like that expression, Kelvin. That expression’s trouble. What are you scheming?”

  I smiled. “I have an idea. Why not let me pick a lady-in-waiting for Princess Abigail?”

  “There’s no way this is going to end well, but fine. Try not to shame the poor woman. She’s had a rough enough time of it lately.”

  I wouldn’t tell my mother picking my ex counted as the worst shame of all. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll make certain she knows she’s welcome here in Illinois without any pressure from me.”

  “You’re definitely scheming something.”

  I nodded, maintaining my sweetest smile.

  “All right. You win this time. Finish your soup and get to bed. Heaven knows you’ll be a mess in the morning. And don’t think I didn’t notice you trying not to cough.”

  “You’re the one who invaded my bathroom. If you hadn’t invaded my bathroom, I could’ve coughed in peace.”

  “True enough, but I would’ve heard you through the door anyway. Get out and get some rest. No woman except your poor mother’s going to fall in love with you when you’re looking like the victim of a bad beating.”

  “The hail won.”

  “I’m sure it did. Now that you’ve been warned of the trouble on the horizon, you get some sleep. The rest can wait until morning.”

  Chapter Three

  Catching up on the news ultimately waited for four days, which was how long it took me to kick the worst of my cold and recover from my beating. The bruises took longer to heal than I liked, but the real problem was the cut. The injury was all but gone, but a bright orange stain in the shape of a stylized flame betrayed where the huntress had scored her hit. Most would believe I’d gotten a rather nice tattoo.

  As it often did, the truth grated on my nerves.

  My foul-mouthed devil of a huntress wasn’t just a flameweaver. She had a strong illumination talent, one that would let her track me at her leisure. Most called it a brand, and hers was prettier than others I’d seen, too.

  She’d spent a great deal of time honing her skills, and I’d have a hell of a time ditching her unless I had it removed. Had I wanted to ditch her, I’d consider it a problem. As I wanted her to come straight to me, the brand was the best lure I could hope for. After I learned who she was, I’d have it removed—if removing it served my needs.

  I’d have to do some research. As far as I could recall, if either one of us had a leeching talent, the brand could become permanent.

  Being a stereotypical Averett man, I had no problem with the brand leading to something more permanent. I could make a relationship with a foul-mouthed huntress work. Hell, half the fun would be the chase, and I bet she’d start running the instant she realized she’d almost skewered a prince.

  Then again, she could be a bounty hunter. Talented trackers made excellent bounty hunters. They didn’t lose their prey. If that was the case, no wonder she’d lost her temper. She would’ve known I’d been nearby but hadn’t been able to find me. One of the first safety rules I’d had shoved down my throat was to have any brands immediately removed.

  I regarded my side with my mouth twitching, wondering how long I’d be able to hide the truth. Until I had a dedicated RPS detail, I might escape scrutiny, but once I had a security team breathing down my neck, I’d be sunk. Someone would notice, Christian would find out, and he’d use brute force if necessary to ensure my cooperation.

  I needed to lure her somewhere public and safe for me, find out who she was, start tracking her, and only then get her brand removed.

  I frowned and poked at the tender skin, considering my options. Would makeup cover it? I didn’t resort to makeup often, but everyone in the royal family had some for public appearances. I suspected the magic would show through, but it might buy me time to turn the tables on her—or at least learn her name before I got taken down by my father’s RPS detail and stripped of her magic.

  A wiser man would’ve had the brand removed without taking any risks. It wasn’t unheard of for bounties to be placed on royals, resulting in someone being tagged for relocation. I hadn’t been successfully taken, but my family never got tired of reminding me about my father and the time the South Dakota royal family had invited him for an unexpected visit. Unbeknownst to us, it’d been a planned joint venture performed by the RPS of both kingdoms to test the effectiveness of the tactic.

  I hadn’t been born yet but was grateful he’d been tagged and bagged, as the trip resulted in my mother and father marrying. My father swore he’d murder anyone who involved him in any relocation scenarios in the future, but we ignored him.

  Christian made sure he was tagged and bagged once a year because he could, and we loved it. The bagger was usually my mother, which ensured no one was actually murdered.

  It was only a matter of time before the RPS started toying with me, too. If my mother got a say in it, she’d probably start repeating history and sending me to other kingdoms during scenarios to see if I found someone like my father had.

  I was in so much trouble, and I didn’t even know how to begin digging myself out of it. I’d already started thinking of the huntress as my wild woman with a foul mouth, which reinforced my desire to set her loose in the castle to watch the mayhem. Had she been part of the RPS wanting to drag me off, I’d have a difficult time saying no.

  Damn it, I was like a puppy but worse. I deserved to be called a feather brain for even thinking about cooperating with someone who’d cut open my side and hunted me for a trophy. To her, I’d been nothing more than a beast.

  Once she figured it out, she’d probably continue to view me as nothing more than an animal. A royal lineage wouldn’t protect me from the prejudices. My family escaped scrutiny because we could, once we gained full control of our talent, shift at will. Some, like my father, never quite mastered the art of transforming his clothes along with his body. My uncles liked showing off, although I doubted I’d ever get used to hearing a wolf ring. Where in his body was the cell phone, and how did it still work?

  Until I found the right woman, I wouldn’t know if I’d leave my clothing strewn across the castle every time I shifted or if I’d ring while in my feathered, bird-brained form. If I had a choice, I’d prefer my father’s problem of having to find clothing after his shifts.

  The real problem was dealing with my huntres
s’s awareness of my second form. When we crossed paths again and she sensed her mark on me, she’d know my secret. What would she do with the knowledge? Was she the type to take a shapeshifter as a trophy? If she showed up wearing leather, I’d be tempted to let her take me as a hostage with minimal fuss.

  Those who wanted shapeshifters as trophies wanted live trophies. As a general rule, the laws prohibited the hunting of shapeshifters, which kept most from actively killing those with talents similar to mine. In the case of my father’s adventure in South Dakota, captured shapeshifters were used as bargaining chips or tools, and such kidnappings had personal motives.

  My mother, true to her crazy cat lady ways, had discovered my father was a cat and wanted him all to herself.

  My father hadn’t stood a chance.

  Was beating my huntress in the face with my wings and evading her talent enough to prick her pride and force her to hunt me? If she exposed my secret, I’d be in a world of hurt from my family. I had no idea what the rest of the world would do beyond laugh. Laughter I could deal with if I had control of my shapeshifting. Turkeys weren’t great flyers, but I had a lot of power in my wings when I unleashed them. Add in my claws, spurs, and beak, and I could make a human regret crossing me.

  It didn’t hurt I dwarfed even domesticated turkeys.

  I paced my bedroom at a loss of what to do about the woman I wanted to meet again. Her ability to brand and track made her ideal for the RPS if I could convince her to join. I’d break every rule in the book pursuing an agent as my future queen, but it wouldn’t take much to get around those rules.

  In Illinois, the queen’s past meant nothing. Peasant or princess, it didn’t matter who she’d been before ensnaring an Averett man. She earned her worth proving she was a woman capable of taming the man and the beast.

  I’d have to get into a fight with the RPS about it and endure the inevitable scolding for encouraging a relationship with an agent. If she, by some miracle, was my agent, she’d be transferred to a different kingdom, put through training again, and possibly fired. I’d chase her, create an international incident and, assuming she didn’t murder me for putting her job at risk, I’d take her home while deflecting the annoyed RPS agents inevitably chasing me.

  The whole plan was a mess, but I’d have a great deal of fun pushing my luck.

  Having fun had never been part of any of my plans. With Gail, I’d been more focused on getting to the next day with my sanity intact. I expected similar struggles in my near future for new reasons—better reasons. If anyone discovered my interest in my huntress, I already knew what I’d tell them. She had a way with words I couldn’t ignore. Under no circumstances would I admit I meant to pursue her due to my case of instant lust for her in leather. Then again, maybe I should admit it.

  Since age twelve, when I’d discovered girls were interesting, I’d tried founding relationships based on what I thought love should be like and had women like Gail to show for it.

  It seemed absurd to hope for better luck pursuing a woman so wrong for me I had no idea how we’d make a relationship work. Did it count as a relationship if I ran while she tried her best to kill me?

  Desperation made me an idiot in need of a psychologist. I’d heard stories about my father before he’d met my mother. If the rumors were true, he’d resorted to prostitutes in hopes of finding love.

  No, I would not stoop to my father’s level of desperation, but if a certain leather-clad woman wanted to kidnap me for a while, I’d go along for the ride to see what happened.

  Part of me wanted to spend the whole day in my room contemplating how I’d catch a huntress who’d almost killed me. Breaking the curse had always been a top priority, but something had changed.

  Her arrow had done more than leave me branded and bleeding.

  I touched the mark, wincing at the bruising beneath. As a child, I’d believed it couldn’t be too hard to find a woman who could love me and not my rank. I’d been wrong.

  I understood why my father hadn’t shattered my delusions as a child. Some lessons were best learned through experience.

  Without a good excuse to hide for another day, I dressed in a classic black suit with a boring tie to limit how many noticed my presence. People would notice me no matter what I did; word had already spread of my return. A mountain of paperwork awaited my attention, and someone had left a foot-thick pile of papers on my coffee table as a not-so-subtle hint. The briefings could be dealt with in my office on the other side of the castle, and I anticipated I’d be invading my parents’ offices for clarifications.

  The real problem was my lack of permanent RPS agents. Had either one of my old agents stayed through the spring, one of them would’ve been standing near the door, a living statue keeping a close eye on me so I wouldn’t escape without someone knowing I’d left.

  With so many RPS agents around and my lack of interest in leaving my room, it didn’t surprise me I hadn’t been saddled with replacement agents yet.

  I snatched part of the pile and hiked across the castle to the working wing, muttering a few of the curses I’d learned in the woods. When I met her, I’d have to ask what most of them meant. The staff hurried about their business, and I adopted my favorite tactic of looking busy to dodge unwanted interaction.

  “Hey, Rose,” my cousin greeted, falling into step with me. “You came out of your suite early.”

  I swallowed all the curses I’d picked up, resisted the urge to feed my cousin a hefty dose of my knuckles, and fought to restore my patience. Fuck it.

  I was done with Gail, her fucking nickname for me, and everyone’s enjoyment of taunting me with it. “Keep calling me Rose, Greggie.” To add a little extra insult to my choice of name for him, I faked a French accent and glared at him.

  He twitched. “When you do that, you remind me of Great-Grandpa.”

  “I’m tired of that idiotic nickname. My name is Kelvin, but you can call me Kel if you’d like. If you want a ridiculous nickname, you can be Gail’s next rebound. I pass.”

  “When Aunt Sarah said I shouldn’t test my luck, I thought she’d been exaggerating. I see she wasn’t.”

  I’d risk the gardener’s wrath and steal a bouquet of flowers for my mother; the higher the risk of getting them, the more she appreciated the effort. “What do you want?”

  “Apparently, I want to apologize for being rude and inconsiderate.”

  “I see they’re serving ice water in hell today. What do you actually want?”

  “Can’t I be concerned for my cousin?”

  I laughed. “You’re only concerned you might have to take the throne. For what it’s worth, I think you’d do a good job. Actually, I hazard you’d do a better job than me.”

  “I think you hit your head and didn’t tell anyone. You’ll feel better about things in a few weeks, after you’re caught up. In good news for you, I’ve been recruited.”

  “As what? A distraction?”

  “Your assistant.”

  I halted, blinking as I tried to come to terms with my wolverine cousin putting up with me for more than a few minutes at a time. “Dad must be cranky with us both.”

  “His Majesty is distraught.” Grégoire rolled his eyes. “Everyone else thinks it’s hilarious. There’s a betting pool on your species going on, by the way. The current theory is you’re either a grizzly like our great-grandpa, a lion, or a honey badger.”

  “You’ve been goofing off on the internet again, I see.”

  “It’s funny. You’d be a hilarious honey badger. Honestly, you wouldn’t be a very good one. You have too much patience. A real honey badger would’ve gone for my throat by now.”

  “It’s really not funny.”

  “Come on, Kel. What’s meaner than a grizzly, lion, or honey badger?”

  “Me if you call me Rose again.”

  “Well played. Point taken. You’re obviously not heartbroken over your ex.”

  “I don’t know why everyone thinks I want her back in my life. We all k
now she only wanted the crown. It’s pretty obvious.”

  “You were pretty upset when you two split.”

  If Grégoire knew the truth, he would’ve understood why I’d reacted as I had, but I left Gail’s reputation intact. I hadn’t told anyone I’d caught her sleeping with another man. “Of course I was. I did my best to love her, and it was an unmitigated disaster. Mom cried for a week, claiming the royal line was doomed to die with me. I told her I gave it a few years before you started competing with Grandpa for most kids.”

  “I’m delightfully randy, it’s true.”

  “I didn’t love her then, and I definitely don’t love her now.”

  “Why date her for so long, then?”

  “Couldn’t find out if I could love her if I didn’t show up and try.”

  “That’s fair. What about this woman you met?”

  I laughed. “Three words: she wears leather.”

  Snickering, my cousin shook his head. “Wrong type of love, Kel. That said, I approve. Unwind, have a little fun. Nothing in the rules says you can’t dip your toes in the water and see if a little time between the sheets can’t lead to better things. I’m pretty sure every man in our line has resorted to that a time or two.”

  “Two charity auctions,” I reminded him, not that I’d taken any of the girls I’d met to bed.

  “Rumor has it you were a perfect angel, much to the disappointment of the princesses who wanted to find out if you’re a beast in bed.”

  “Just for the record, if you relay any part of this conversation to my parents, I’m telling Great-Grandpa you were the one who broke his rocking chair.”

  “This is why you’re the better choice for king. You’re ruthless.”

  Shaking my head and wondering why I hadn’t just stayed in the woods to become a hermit, I shouldered into my office to discover my father sitting at my desk. “Finally got demoted?”

  “How do you find anything on this computer?” he complained, clicking at my mouse while his eyes remained locked on my monitor. “This is not logical organization, Kel.”