Reign Check dp-2

by Мишель Роуэн

  He looked confused. “Is that a problem?”

  “Yeah, it kind of is.”

  I told him what had happened with Chris in the backyard. Despite my history with Rhys, I still felt desperate to confide in somebody who’d understand.

  I showed Rhys the sketch. He studied it carefully before giving it back to me.

  “It seems to confirm the second prophecy Irena told you about.”

  “I know. So what do you think I should do?” I asked, feeling hopeful in spite of myself that he’d be able to help me out or give me some sage advice.

  “Why are you asking me?”

  “Because you’re the dragon expert around here.”

  “Dragons have scales, you know,” Rhys said pointedly.

  I looked at him. “What?”

  “Green scales and spiky tails.” He paused and then started to laugh. “Hey, I made a rhyme!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Dragons see the future.” He nodded. “Unless it’s all blurry. Then they just make stuff up, I think.”

  “That’s not exactly what I asked you.” I started to feel annoyed with him again. Why was I surprised Rhys was letting me down when I needed his help?

  “Sorry.” He grinned. “It’s the wine. I wasn’t sure how it would affect me, but now I see so, so clearly.” He grabbed my shoulders. “Do you see, Princess Nikki? Do you? It’s a strange world here with strange human people and none of it makes any sense to me.”

  I pushed his hands off me. “One glass of wine and you’re already drunk? That’s even more pathetic than Larissa.”

  “Faery anatomy.” He shrugged. “S’different than humans. We have wine back home. It’s made from strawberries and sunshine and a little bit of magic.”

  “Oh, brother.” I rolled my eyes. “This is just perfect.”

  “Demons.” He poked me in the shoulder hard enough to hurt.

  I was grateful for the loud music. It helped drown out Rhys’s scattered outbursts. “What about them?” I asked cautiously.

  He made a face. “Hate ’em.”

  “Yeah, so you told me yesterday. Don’t worry. I promise not to infect you with any demon cooties.” I tried to move past him, but he grabbed my wrist to stop me.

  “Not you. Don’t hate you. Wanted to. And I sorta do sometimes, but you’re not the one to blame.”

  “Blame for what?”

  He inhaled deeply and it sounded shaky. “My … my parents.”

  I shivered. “I’m sorry they’re gone.”

  “They were there one day, and then they weren’t. And I had to become king whether I wanted to or not. My advisers … I don’t think they like me. They respected my father and my mother, but they don’t respect me. Maybe they never will. It makes me feel really alone.” He frowned. “Why am I telling you this?”

  “Because you’re drunk and you don’t know any better.”

  “Sometimes I don’t want to go back. I wish I could stay here, where it’s easy. Where people are nice. Where it’s safe … unless you’re a frog.”

  “You can’t stay?”

  He shook his head. “Not for long. I have duties. And my hotel suite — it’s so empty and there are noises at night, but at least nobody bothers me there, asking me to make decisions that affect the entire faery realm. They think I’m the one to blame for everything bad that happens there.”

  He looked so dejected by this that I couldn’t help but feel for how lonely he must be. “I can’t imagine it’s easy being a king.”

  “Would you want to rule the Shadowlands?”

  “No,” I replied honestly.

  “If your father was murdered, you’d have to. You’d have no choice. You’re his heir.”

  Murdered. I hated the sound of the word.

  “You’re right,” I said. “I guess I would. How … how did it happen? With your parents?”

  His eyes became glossy and he sniffed hard, swiping his hand under his nose. “They went to the Underworld. They were scheduled to have an important meeting with Queen Sephina. The demon who did it was caught and put in the dungeon there so he can be punished, but it doesn’t change anything. My parents are gone forever.” His voice broke.

  “I’m so, so sorry.”

  Rhys looked on the verge of tears for a moment, and I touched his arm in a weak attempt to comfort him. The contact made him take a big step back from me. I was getting used to guys doing that, attempting to escape me in any way they could. I was trying very hard not to take it personally.

  I snatched my hand back. “Sorry.”

  He laughed, still sounding tipsy from the wine, but there wasn’t a lot of humor in the sound. “You’re so weird.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  His smile turned into a scowl. “I really don’t like you.”

  I tried not to let his harsh words bother me. “I guess you don’t have to like me.”

  “But Irena said that you’re my—”

  I cut him off. “I don’t care what she said. You know it’s not true.”

  “I know. It’s stupid. All my life — even before what happened to my parents — I’ve been taught to hate demons. They’re evil and ugly and unpleasant.”

  I nodded. “Right. So I’m pretty much done with this conversation. I think I’m going to go join the rest of the party. Or maybe I’ll just go home.”

  “Why are you going?”

  I glared at him. “You just called me evil and ugly and unpleasant. That doesn’t exactly make me want to hang out with you any longer.”

  “That’s demons. Not you.”

  “I’m half demon.” I sighed. “Why am I even having this conversation with you? You’re drunk.”

  He frowned. “Am not.”

  “I don’t do well with drunk guys. They tend to do or say things they end up regretting.” I went to walk past him, but he stepped in front of me. I put my hands on my hips. “Move, please.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched into a half grin. “Or what?”

  “Or I’m going to punch you in the stomach.”

  “Violent.”

  “Well, I am a demon.”

  “Half demon.” Now he was the one reminding me.

  “Whatever. Now please move.”

  “Well … unfortunately there’s a little problem,” he said.

  “What?”

  He pointed up. “That.”

  I looked up to see the mistletoe dangling from the ceiling where I’d hung it three hours before.

  “Okay, but what does that—?”

  Rhys kissed me. It took me so much by surprise that I didn’t realize what had happened until it was almost over. When he pulled away, he held my shoulders and leaned back from me, his brows knitting together, his expression filled with dismay.

  “I really, really didn’t want to like that,” he said.

  “Rhys—” But before I could say anything else, he kissed me again and pulled me closer. The fact that I wasn’t pushing him away was a little disturbing. In fact, after another moment I realized I was kissing him back.

  If I’d known mistletoe was this dangerous, I never would have helped Melinda put any up.

  “The last time I saw her, she was over here,” someone said. Then I heard a gasp.

  That was when I finally shoved Rhys back from me and peered over his shoulder. Melinda stood in the kitchen staring at us with wide eyes.

  Next to her was Michael.

  14

  “Nikki,” Melinda said after a long moment of silence passed among the four of us, despite the loud music reverberating through the house. “Your friend Michael stopped by. He said he needed to talk to you.”

  “Uh, thanks,” I managed.

  She cleared her throat. “You’re welcome.”

  She sounded pleasant and polite, at least on the surface. However, the glare on her face said another thing altogether. It was a mixture of disappointment and major betrayal. If eyeball
s were capable of slaying demon princesses, I would already be dead.

  Larissa would be happy to know the position of Melinda’s best friend might be up for grabs, after all. My stomach sank. I’d promised her a thousand times I wasn’t interested in Rhys, and here I was kissing him at her party.

  That probably didn’t look good, did it? I could only blame the mistletoe for so much.

  I couldn’t bear to look at Michael yet. What was he doing here?

  “Melinda—,” I began.

  She gave me a frozen smile. “I have to get back to my guests. We’ll talk later, okay?”

  Without another word, she turned and left.

  That was not a conversation I was looking forward to. She was going to kill me.

  I really hoped it wouldn’t be literal.

  “Princess.” Michael’s voice was strained. “I’m very sorry to come here unannounced, but it’s urgent. Your father sent me.”

  “What’s wrong?” I finally forced myself to look at him. His attention was focused on something down by my feet.

  “Queen Sephina and the rest of the council have requested a meeting with you.”

  “Why?”

  “She wishes to learn more about you and wants this to happen face-to-face. Prince Kieran’s report didn’t satisfy her curiosity about you or the prophecy.”

  I’d felt as if this was coming. Kieran did mention the potential of my meet and greet with the demon council. However, I’d tried to put it out of my mind, hoping it wouldn’t happen any time soon.

  “When?” I asked.

  “Immediately.”

  My eyebrows went up. “Now?”

  “That is generally what immediately means.” Michael’s eyes flicked to Rhys. “Why? Am I interrupting something you feel is more important?”

  “I don’t think I appreciate your tone, Shadow,” Rhys said.

  “His name is Michael,” I corrected.

  “Right. Michael.” Rhys still managed to make it sound like a bland label rather than a name.

  Michael glanced up at the evil mistletoe hanging above us before his gaze returned to Rhys. “I apologize if my tone is anything less than respectful, King Rhys.”

  Rhys smiled thinly. “Apology accepted.”

  Again, there was more unsaid than said in the room at the moment. I could feel it as sharply as if it were raining needles.

  “Is the demon council waiting for me in the Shadowlands like Prince Kieran was?” I asked.

  “No. They request that you travel to the Underworld castle, where they’ve convened to discuss the prophecy in detail.”

  I looked at Rhys, who’d flinched at the mention of the place his mother and father had been murdered.

  “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Rhys said. “As princess of the Shadowlands, you’re entitled to veto any request that doesn’t come from your own kingdom.”

  I thought that over. It sounded a bit too simple an answer, actually.

  “What happens if I say no?” I asked Michael.

  “Is that what you’re saying?”

  I shook my head. “I … I just want to keep my options open.”

  “Your father agrees with King Rhys,” Michael said. “That you shouldn’t go.”

  “Really?” I didn’t know why that surprised me.

  “Then there’s no problem,” Rhys said. “Nikki will stay here.”

  Michael’s expression darkened. He nodded. “Then I should leave.”

  “Wait,” I said as he turned away from us. “No, Michael, don’t go.”

  He stopped and looked at me.

  “You told me my father doesn’t want me to go, but you didn’t answer my question. What will the council do if I don’t meet with them? Will they be upset?”

  Seemed to me that denying a council of demons a request, even though it might be within my right to do so, could come with a price tag. I just wanted to know how expensive it would be.

  Michael pressed his lips together as if unsure whether or not to answer me. “Your father despises the council. He doesn’t say this out loud, of course, but it’s obvious to me he does. They’re the ones who create all the laws that govern the dark worlds, after all.”

  Yes, the laws that said if he ever tried to contact my mother again, she’d be in danger just because of their romantic history. And I was fairly certain that was only the tip of the demonic iceberg when it came to my father’s issues with the council.

  “I’m not too fond of them, either,” I said.

  “No, but … I think this hatred has clouded King Desmond’s better judgment. He wishes to deny them this request, but it’s at his own peril … and yours, too. The queen is simply curious about you right now, that’s all. But if she’s refused this meeting …”

  “What?” I prompted.

  “I’m afraid of how she might react. Queen Sephina, and the Underworld as a whole, has a great deal of power … much more than the Shadowlands ruler. Your father maintains his hold on the barrier and the castle all by himself. He has no support. But the queen, well, she has the support of the entire Underworld and Hell.”

  “You think she could nullify Desmond’s reign over the Shadowlands if she wanted to?” Rhys asked, sounding troubled about this possibility.

  Michael nodded. “If she was provoked.”

  A chill spread through me. “Does my father know this?”

  “I’m sure he does. But he refuses to acknowledge it. His hatred blinds him to the real threat here.”

  “So we have to do what the queen wants or else?” I said lightly, trying to ignore the dread that had suddenly enveloped me.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  The rebel in me resisted this idea. But she’d grown very tired and beaten down over the last week, so I now doubted myself. “Do you think I should go?”

  “The queen has given her royal word that no harm will come to you.”

  Rhys snorted. “And you believe her?”

  Michael’s eyes narrowed. “I will go with the princess and ensure her safety.”

  “How can you ensure something like that? You’re only her servant, aren’t you?” At Michael’s highly unfriendly glare, Rhys’s eyebrow raised. “Oh, wait a minute. I think I get it.”

  “You get what?”

  “Why you look so disturbed right now. It’s not just because of the queen’s request of the princess.” Rhys’s gaze flicked up to the mistletoe. “Don’t be jealous, Shadow. A kiss under the mistletoe means nothing.”

  “You think I’m jealous about that?”

  “I think it’s very possible.” Rhys shrugged, amusement sliding behind his brown eyes. “However, I suppose if it did mean something, it wouldn’t be any of your business, would it?”

  I really wanted him to shut up.

  “I am the princess’s servant,” Michael said flatly. “Nothing more. Besides, there are more important issues to deal with right now than petty jealousies.”

  Rhys cocked his head to the side. “It’s very interesting to me, this demon council of yours and the laws they create.”

  “Oh?”

  “They make sure demons are forbidden to date humans. Demons can’t date Shadows, either. But, well, there just isn’t any rule that says they can’t date faeries. Why do you think that is? An oversight?”

  Michael’s lips thinned. “It’s probably because no demon would ever be interested in a faery. After all, they’re so easily broken.”

  “You might be surprised about that.” Rhys’s eyes swirled, evidence that he was more agitated by this conversation than he wanted to let on.

  Okay, that was more than enough. “Michael, let’s go.”

  Michael looked surprised. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “We must see your father first. He’ll be able to open a gateway for us to the Underworld. However, he won’t be happy about your decision.”

  “You’re probably right. But that’s not going to change my mind. I won’t let him mak
e a mistake that’ll cost him the entire kingdom. Or worse.”

  “Fine, then let’s go.” Michael turned and, without waiting for me, began walking through Melinda’s house toward the front door.

  Rhys grabbed my hand before I followed Michael out of the room. “I don’t trust him.”

  I frowned at him. “Who, Michael?”

  “Shadows are dangerous.”

  “So you were trying to tell me before. Are there any Shadows in the faery world?”

  “No. Their souls are too dark to survive in a light world. Your servant is the first Shadow I’ve ever met. But my mother used to warn me to stay away from Shadows, that they couldn’t be trusted.”

  I yanked my hand away from him. “I trust Michael more than anyone else I know. He’d never hurt me. And his soul isn’t dark.”

  Rhys nodded then, a quick motion of his head. “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  His eyes were guarded. “Nikki … what I said about the kiss …”

  “It was because of the mistletoe and it meant nothing,” I said quickly. Maybe a bit too quickly. “I totally and completely agree.”

  “That’s … what I figured.”

  “Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck. And please try to be careful around that Shadow of yours.”

  “Are you going to tell me to be careful around Michael every time I say good-bye to you?”

  His lips twitched. “It’s entirely possible.”

  I never would have guessed it from the last time we’d seen each other — when he’d basically thrown me out of his car because he hated demons — but actual concern for me was now in Rhys’s eyes.

  I hadn’t wanted him to hate me, but I didn’t want him to like me, either. That made things much more complicated than I wanted them to be.

  While looking for a gateway to the Shadowlands, Michael walked so quickly I had to jog to keep up with him. I drew my winter coat closer around me to block out the chilly night.

  “It was the mistletoe, you know,” I said.

  He stopped so abruptly, I bashed into him. “Pardon me?”

  “That … what you saw back there. It was because of the mistletoe. It’s a human tradition, that’s all.”

  Yeah. It sounded pretty weak to me, too.