The right guard laughed, a pig at a mud pit. “You ain’t got private business. Not when you want to see the high ruler.”
“Show some respect,” Cade warned from Ana’s side.
“Who fer, queen of the fairies?” The demon guffawed.
“For Princess Alana of the Royal House of Farrah.” Cade’s words held a gravity that tugged at Ana’s heart.
Her eyebrows rose in expectation.
The pair shot to attention, bug-eyed, pale as the frozen lakes of the Meraldic Islands.
“Beggin’ your pardon, Princess.” The left one clipped his boots together and bowed shortly from the waist. “We didn’t know.”
“Now you do.” Ana’s words were cool, her tone sweet. “May I pass?”
They fell over themselves to part, waving her on with a rush of unintelligible murmurs.
“Nicely done,” Cade muttered, hand lowering to brush her hip before he stepped into his role.
Ana exhaled. Obstacle one: down. Only another two dozen to go.
Gingerly, she thrust open the right gate. A hiss stole from her lips as her skin smoked at the contact. Iron. Hurrying, Ana slipped through the gap and made her way across the circular gravel drive, evading the central statue that depicted Edward on horseback.
Reaching the oak double doors that were smoothly carved into the crystal entrance, Ana set her shoulders. Focus. In the room.
Using the old copper knocker, she tapped out her arrival in three brisk notes.
It was opened by a butler ten seconds later, dressed in a white suit with tails, and an impeccably tied sapphire-blue bow tie. “Ye-es?” he intoned, boredom dripping from the syllables he managed to make. His eyes flicked between her and Cade.
Ana arched her eyebrows. Think rich bitch had been Faer’s suggestion. “I am Princess Alana of the Royal House of Farrah, and I demand to speak to the high ruler.” When the butler surveyed her in surprise, she snapped, “At once.”
The jitters in her stomach at having said the words aloud jiggled and heaved like a plane in midcrash. Trying to work up some spit to wet her arid mouth, she brazenly stepped past the butler as though she had every right to do so.
Playing the role was one thing; this was about to be her life. Again the question of whether she could handle this hammered at her, flames swirling in lazy coils as they soothed her nerves.
Taking a stance opposite the large silver-framed mirror that sat to the right of the door, Ana arched her eyebrows in pointed annoyance.
The butler took the hint, snapping his fingers at a lolling footman to stand to attention, and bowing almost to waist level. She flicked her fingers out as though examining her claws, watching from under her lashes as he scurried off to inform her ex-fiancé of her arrival.
The sea-blue carpet caught the scant rays of the sun, and the crystal ceiling threw it back tenfold, illuminating the space into something dazzling. Paintings from every period welcomed her, the latest nearest the doorway and so on. An actual grandfather clock intoned the time as it sat proudly in the space between two paintings, the walls behind a deep cream.
The hall stretched on for a while, several rooms veering off it, and a grand staircase split into two in the bulbous head of the hallway. Crystal chandeliers echoed the palace’s design as they trickled from the ceiling’s vast height.
All this at the expense of the Southlands’ people. Ana wanted to spit.
Linking his hands behind him, Cade took up a position to her left, fading into the hallway with impressive ease. It must come back to him as it did to her. A thought that made her frown.
Rapid footfalls echoed along the hall. Her head whipped up.
A tall man rounded the corner, silver peppering his dark hair, a large beak of a nose hooking out below suspicious pale-green eyes. His garb was regal despite not being in the ruler’s colors, strands of gold thread blending into the moss-colored smoking jacket he wore, ebony trousers framing powerful thighs.
Edward.
Ana contained her shudder, instead pasting a coquettish smile onto her lips. “High Ruler.”
As he came nearer, she descended into a low curtsey, making sure he had ample view of the cleavage she could offer. Like Vander always said, “Doesn’t matter how big the buns, men will always eat them.”
There was a man with a rattled expression scurrying after Edward, papers and a goose-feather pen clutched in his hands as he continued to proffer them. Edward waved an irritable hand at the man, fixed on Ana.
“Who are you?” His voice was speech-rich, the kind of voice that hugged vowels and made love to consonants.
Ana stood from her curtsey as gracefully as she had descended. Princesses, after all, bowed as a courtesy. “I am Princess Alana, of the Royal House of Farrah.” Her tone was as definite as the fact of Edward’s death.
Wow, whaddya know? Less scary that time.
“Princess Alana is dead.”
“The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”
He surveyed her face. She let him look; what could he see except the truth?
“The princess was taken by thieves and outlaws.” He crossed his arms.
“Yet here I stand.” At Cade’s covered cough behind her, Ana shed the sarcasm like a stifling winter coat, donning the fawning royal without an outward flicker. “When it became clear that my parents’ killer had set me up to take the blame, I and my bodyguard withdrew to a hidden existence.” Ana assumed a downcast, frightened expression. Her hands wrung in obvious nerves. “I have hidden for so long, Your Eminence, with no proper company.”
“Uh-huh.” He sounded far from convinced. “Why now?”
She assumed he meant coming out of hiding. “The whispers have died down. My relatives are an ambitious group, and so I have come to the one ally I dare to presume I have.”
“Me?”
Ana fluttered her lashes, making sickening sounds internally. “We were once engaged, were we not?”
“Princess Alana, you said?” Edward’s eyes traveled over her again, causing her skin to tighten wherever those monstrous pupils wandered. He flicked a hand at the agitated man, sending him on his way. “I will admit, you have the look of a Farrah.”
It’s working. Ana inclined her head, doing her best to seem timid. Not easy. “A fine compliment. I miss my parents every day.”
“Naturally. They were fine rulers, if a tad…shortsighted.” Edward placed his hands on his hips, tapping his manicured nails. “You understand my caution?”
“Absolutely, Your Eminence. Any ruler as wise as you must take into account the circumstances that have me wandering into your entrance hall.” Ana inched closer, peering underneath her lashes. “I have proof.”
A blink of his wary eyes. “Let me have it.”
Oh, don’t tempt me.
With flames purring beneath her skin, dying to be offered the chance to lick their way across Edward’s flesh, Ana snapped her fingers and reached back to Cade. Her bow was placed into her hands.
She wanted Edward to touch it like she wanted phoenix flu, but she forced her stiff hand into presenting the wooden bow. “Do you recognize the crest?”
Silence became another member of the watchful group as Edward smoothed a finger down the royal symbol. “Fine craftsmanship. I remember this,” he admitted. “Still, I ask again: why now?”
“My cousin has begun to gather a following.” Ana swallowed against the black taste of the lies she spun off her tongue. “If I do not strike now, I could lose my throne. My contacts who remain in court tell me that behind closed doors, there are whispers of Sebby succeeding to the throne, instead of a mere governor’s position.” She spread her hands. “My cousin is not a wise ruler, Your Eminence. He will bury my people with idiotic brainwaves and foolhardy plans. I will not let them suffer any longer.”
She could almost feel the s
himmering waves of Cade’s surprise at this angle she’d improvised on the spot. But from what he had told her about Edward’s insane ideas to further his own people, she hoped he might weaken at the display of loyalty to hers.
Then again, he might harden and keep her around with plans to crush her before she got as far as strengthening the phoenix race. The better to give humans a boost up the evolutionary ladder.
Either way would work for me.
And, either way, Edward wasn’t stupid. Like Trick had said, here was a phoenix at his disposal, ripe for the picking. He wouldn’t turn her out, but he had to put up a reluctant front. Politics, after all, was half theatrics. Here was just another of his masks. She looked forward to the death scene.
When the silence pulsated like a bleeding wound, Ana threw in all her chips. “Will you help me, Your Eminence?”
His eyes were sharp and clear as he absorbed her story. When he harrumphed, attention skimming behind her, Ana couldn’t help the tension that thrummed to life like a thumb on a guitar string. Fire brushed up against her skin. Would he see Shade in the servant?
She gestured without turning, as was appropriate. “This is my bodyguard, Cade. He has accompanied me on every step of the journey.”
Edward dismissed the jackal as beneath his notice, switching his attention back to her. “Then he deserves a bed and a good meal in the kitchens.” The high ruler snapped his fingers at one of the footmen. “And you, my sweet Alana, can accompany me to dinner this evening. My sons will be there, so you needn’t worry about a chaperone.”
Ana giggled, feeling dirtier than a penny whore. “I don’t think a chaperone is necessary, Your Eminence.”
“Call me Edward,” he invited, reaching out and tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. “Come, you must be frozen. The Southlands are not known for their warmth, and I know phoenixes crave heat. We can retire to my library. You can tell me all of your adventures.”
“I beg your pardon. Edward,” Ana amended, glancing at the wooden floorboards in feigned delight. She was so not going anywhere alone with him. Did he see the words ‘brainless idiot’ tattooed on her forehead? “I am in desperate need of rest, and I wouldn’t feel safe unless my bodyguard had rooms next door to me.”
“Then it shall be done.” Edward motioned for his butler, ordering a suite of rooms for Ana, the outer of which would be granted to Cade, a hot meal for the latter, and a hot bath to be sent up when Ana rang.
As Edward steered her to the flight of stairs that led to the south wing, she studied the surroundings with a covert sweep. The palace was a mix of vintage and modern. Strange, she’d have thought the palace would be the first building updated—she’d seen Upper Ring homes, and they were crammed with the latest gadgets, with nothing as provincial as bells in the rooms. Evidence of his age, she guess, and the presence of his sons spoke for the technology.
Edward twisted to her at the foot of the stairs, gesturing at his butler. “Craven will take you to your suite. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.”
“You’re already helping me so much,” Ana insisted, voice high and bright. Cagily, she let a little moisture brighten her eyes. Her hands fluttered like a bird in need of a safe perch. “With your help, I know I can regain the throne.”
He bowed over her hand, pressing his lips to the knuckles. She forced eager flames back down to her core, managing a charmed smile. It felt like a fat, hairy spider had captured her hand, and she wanted nothing more than to shake it off.
“Dinner is at seven,” he informed her as he rose. His thumb caressed the soft skin of her palm. His eyes remained flat, devouring her as if she were nothing but walking, talking genes. But she could deal with the unnerving sense of being under a microscope. All she needed was the night.
She smiled prettily, ducking her head. “Until dinner, then.” Her voice was purposefully breathless.
He echoed her words, watching as she picked up her skirts. She allowed for a flash of creamy skin before following the sour-faced butler up the flight of stairs.
A breath as shaky as a two-wheeled cart flowed from her. The stairs creaked under her hurried pace, the single thing keeping her from jogging being Cade’s solid presence behind her.
Acting her old self was harder than she’d imagined—especially with those cold, cold eyes picking her apart as efficiently as one of his scientists with a scalpel. The sooner this was done, the better.
Cade stood at attention, behind and directly to the right of Alana’s ornately carved chair. His attention flicked between her, Edward and his sons. The banquet hall was cavernous, every word the guests spoke repeated by walls that were paneled in mahogany and lit by crystal sconces.
Seated at an antique ebony table that accommodated fifty, Edward claimed the head with Alana as the honored guest to his right. Garrett sat across from her, with Gable as her other bookend.
They were dressed in splendor, Alana’s borrowed gown arriving at her suite an hour before the proposed dinner. It was a vivid crimson that splashed hot and sensual across her flesh, transforming her into a walking column of fire. Slimly cut, it fused to the curves of her body, her arms open to the air, but shielded from the elbow down in white silk gloves. The neckline curved delicately, allowing Cade a glimpse of tantalizing cleavage. She’d let the wig’s hair flow loose, the custom untraditional but alluring.
Gable seemed to think so; the dirty bastard couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
Inwardly gnashing his teeth, Cade tuned back in to the conversation. Edward was dabbing his mouth with a cream napkin, having finished the white soup they’d been served. There’d been the typical small talk up to now, but Cade sensed a shift in tone as Edward gestured for the footman to remove his plate.
“So, Alana. Tell us of your adventures.” Edward’s smile didn’t touch his eyes. His fingers curled around the stem of his crystal wineglass, tight enough to crack. “A princess on the run must have some stories to tell.”
To her credit, Alana didn’t appear cowed by the question. She sat tall in the wooden chair, with the air of somebody who belonged—which she did. This was her old world, her future.
Cade hated it. This insipid, spoiled princess act was shoving him to the edge of his control. He wanted his foul-mouthed fighter.
“It wasn’t easy,” Alana admitted, with the perfect blend of distress and acceptance. Her eyes were meek as she directed a look first at high ruler, then his sons.
While Edward and Gable had dressed for dinner in full black tie, Garrett had opted for the more comfortable white linen shirt, a waistcoat thrown over the top—much like what Cade wore. The prince slumped in his chair, lazily studying Alana and gulping his wine until Cade thought he’d start sucking the glass.
“Did you appeal to a friend?” Edward persisted.
Alana nodded. “I stole a horse and traveled many miles, until we came to an old nurse of mine who’d been dismissed for…ah.” A beguiling color flushed her cheeks. She must’ve been calling her fire. Clever phoenix.
She pressed her tongue to her bottom lip before admitting, “Associating with a man. I knew she bore enough of a grudge not to reveal my location, but enough of a fondness for me that she allowed me to stay in her cottage. For a price.” Alana sipped her wine, avoiding the impolite clink of claws against glass. “I was forced to do menial labor, though my bodyguard took on the brunt.”
“However did you manage?” Gable’s handsome features twisted with sympathy for the delicate creature sitting next to him.
Alana smiled with gracious deference. She leaned back to allow the next course to be served. Mushrooms in a cream and wine sauce. “It’s astounding what people can do when they have to, Your Eminence.” There was a layer of injected dryness that Cade hoped wouldn’t transmit to the others.
“You poor thing.” Edward’s face was all compassion. “Where was this cottage?”
He’s like a cerberus with a human limb. Never mind that it wasn’t great dinner conversation; it bordered on rude.
Not that Alana could object.
She wielded her cutlery with grace, a skill that had taken the best part of an hour to relearn, as she’d complained about the uselessness of so many forks and knives.
“Buried in the Heartlands, near the great lakes,” she answered after eating a mushroom. “We grew our own food and sold what we didn’t need at a nearby market. It was a simple life.”
“Now you’re back,” Gable announced, toasting her with his glass.
They all echoed the toast, wine flowing as free as the questions.
Edward set the glass down without drinking, steepling his hands over his plate. “And if I were to put through a call to the Northern Zone Border Control, would they confirm records of your exit from the High Lands?”
So, he remained wary—understandable, what with the palace on high alert and a long-thought-dead princess coming out of the woodwork. It was a loose thread in their tale, Cade had to admit. He’d forgotten that the valkry and furies, corulers of the bordering territory to the High Lands, had set up their own border control.
But Cade had faith in his woman; she would have answers for whatever Edward threw at her.
“It would have been impossible for us to cross with my true identity.” Alana pursed her lips. Her finger traced the flimsy stem of her glass. “I paid a criminal for a false passcard. I couldn’t think of what else to do.”
“Of course, you were right to do so,” Gable interjected, clearly taken with her. He turned to his father. “What are we going to do to clear Princess Alana’s name?”
Alana’s face took on shock, like a sinking boat takes on water. A staggered gasp fell from her throat. “You would really help me?”
“We couldn’t leave you in distress,” Gable insisted. His meal lay congealing, forgotten in his zeal.
His brother stayed silent, an amused smile floating around the corners of his mouth. He tapped his glass with an indolent finger, the splash of wine filling the goblet gurgling in the quiet.
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