by AJ Nuest
Opening the refrigerator, Jon began restocking the shelves. But it was the pointed way he refused to acknowledge anyone else in the room that waved a red flag of warning.
Just like she’d thought, Caedmon had hurt his feelings. She tipped her chin up to search his gaze. And if he wanted the rest of their visit to go smoothly, he’d better get over there and figure out a way to talk Jon down off his emotional ledge.
His lips firmed and he nodded once before releasing her. Circling the table, he stole the package of bagels from Jon’s hands and collected Jon’s fingers in his.
She traded a startled blink with Oliver and he quickly centered a chair behind Jon’s legs.
“I owe you an amends, Jon.” Caedmon stepped in and Jon plopped to the seat with a weak-kneed thump. “Though you are fair of face and posses a joyous nature, the tides of our lives run an opposing course. And while I’ve no qualms we’d undoubtedly be well suited, alas my heart does now and will always belong to my beloved Rowena. In comparison to her, all others pale.”
Damn, the man was good. She lowered her chin against a chuckle. Softening his rejection with a compliment. Respectful at the same time he made sure to expertly deflect any further advances.
He’d always had a talent with words, though. She squinted. And considering the source, he’d probably been given plenty of practice.
“No, Your Highness.” Jon’s eyelashes fluttered. “I’m the one who should apologize. I overstepped and that was terribly rude. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He glanced at Ollie. “Or insinuate anything other than how happy I am that you’re here.”
Uh oh… Rowena snuck a peek at Oliver. Apparently, he and Jon had shared a little chat about appropriate behavior while out running errands.
“Quite right. And I consider Oliver a lucky man.” Shifting his weight, Caedmon seemed to struggle with the horns of a dilemma. He leaned down and perfunctorily pecked Jon’s cheek…then grimaced as if he’d just sucked the juice from a lemon.
Jon reverently placed a hand on his face.
Oliver sighed.
And Rowena couldn’t help but snort. Yep, Caedmon had dished out that same persuasive argument more than a few times in the past.
Oliver approached the back of the chair, tilted Jon’s head back and pressed a kiss to the middle of his forehead.
Oh, good grief. Now, if someone would just cue the Disney music, all would be right in the land of flowers and unicorns. Rowena bumped her chin toward the dry-cleaning bags on the chair. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Right.” A pat of Jon’s shoulders and Oliver gathered the bags, handing them out around the kitchen. “We got something for everyone, but we don’t have much time. With traffic, travel time is gonna take at least two hours and I still need to do Ro’s hair.”
Oh, God. Her shoulders fell. How could she have forgotten Ollie was the remake of a modern-day Marcelene?
Gritting her teeth, she tried paging through the hangers inside the plastic, but all she found was a poofy white dress and what appeared to be a fur-trimmed cape. What, did he think she was getting married at this affair?
She shot him a scathing glare and he aimed a sharp finger at her bibs.
“Uh, uh, uh… I gave you fair warning this would happen. Zip it, doll. I don’t wanna hear one complaint.”
“Fine.” Crumpling the dress in her hand, she stood and led Caedmon down the hall to their room. He tossed his outfit onto the bed and, after giving it the quick once-over, she muttered a curse.
The leather pants and white shirt Ollie had given him were almost identical to what he usually wore. He tore into the bag and she crossed her arms, foot tapping. He’d even gotten a leather baldric and fake, plastic sword.
Grumbling her way into the gown, she shoved her head through the collar and centered the seams on her shoulders. But no matter how much she rearranged the dumb thing, the neckline seemed off, too high up her chest and pulling at a weird angle across her boobs. The laced columns at the end of each sleeve hung at least a foot past her fingers, and what was up with the wide white ribbons attached to the sides?
Not knowing what else to do, she tied them in a bow at her back and stood in front of the dresser mirror. Fabulous. Two huge cinnamon buns affixed to her head and she’d be the perfect, blonde, Princess Leia.
Caedmon strode into view behind her, settling the baldric on his left shoulder. His lips turned down in a judicious frown and he crossed his arms. “Very attractive, my love. I’ve always enjoyed you in white.”
He had to be kidding.
“The only attractive thing in that mirror is you. Come on, Caedmon. Look at this mess.” She swooped up the meringue tiers of the skirt and bounced them in her arms. “Why couldn’t Ollie just give me a pair of pants and a shirt? I can’t make heads or tails of this thing.”
A soft rapping, and they both turned as the door came ajar. Oliver poked his head inside and his smile slowly faded as he skimmed her from head to foot.
“Dear God.” His eyelids slammed shut. “You really are a hopeless cause, you know that?”
“It’s this horrible dress, Ollie. It doesn’t fit right.”
“Here’s a thought.” He stepped inside the room. “What if you turned it around so it was facing the right way?”
“Oh.” She dropped the skirt—or make that the train—to the ground.
Caedmon sputtered and she jerked her eyes to the mirror to find him intently inspecting his cuff.
Sure, yuck it up. Once she got her daggers back, they’d see who had the last laugh.
“All right, come on.” Heaving a sigh, Oliver snagged her elbow and tugged her toward the hall. “We may be a while, Your Highness. No telling how long this will take.”
Reversing a step, he snatched the remote off the desk and aimed at it at the flat-screened television above the second dresser. The applause from some cooking show showered from the speakers and he flipped to NFL Live.
“Goddesses’ tits.” Caedmon slowly sank to the edge of the mattress. “Take however long you need.”
The next hour painfully ticked by while Rowena stood in the center of Oliver and Jon’s bedroom, arms raised and then lowered, head back then chin down. Though she had to grudgingly agree, once the ribbons were crisscrossed around her torso, at least the dress had some shape to it, and the little spots of spirit gum Jon used on the edge of her shoulders did a good job of securing the scoop neckline in place.
A sneer curled her top lip as they dragged her into the master bath. A small groan as Oliver twirled her around and slammed her butt to the vanity chair. But, she kept her mouth shut and decided to go to her happy place—riding Belial in the woods, nothing but wide blue sky and miles of verdant green hills unfurling into the distance before them.
Eyeliner swept her lids, and she flinched. Her hair pulled her scalp, and she grimaced. Powder pressed her nose, brushes swept her cheeks, and lip gloss dabbed her mouth.
Her balance reeled as the seat suddenly swiveled out of nowhere. Chatting away, Oliver and Jon lifted her by the arms and marched her before the bedroom’s full-length mirror.
A blink and silence descended as she withdrew a step. Placing her hand over the key, she held it against the soft material gathered along her breasts.
Holy shit, they’d done it.
She stared at the Juliet sleeves, the thin gold cords tied in neat little bows inside each of her wrists. An embroidered belt rested on her hips, the decorative strip bisecting a skirt that wafted to the floor as light as a cloud.
Several small sections of her hair had been braided, the rest hanging loose past her shoulders. She turned to the side and the hem swirled around her toes. Without a thought or even being aware of what they were doing, Oliver and Jon had transformed her into the Candra-Scinlæce after whom she’d been named.
Shaking open the cape, Jon draped it over her shoulders and reached around to secure a crystal-studded clasp at the base of her throat. A smile creased his cheeks as he stood ba
ck and linked his arm through Ollie’s.
“You look breathtaking, doll.”
She grinned, even though—no big surprise—tears stung her eyes. “All thanks to the two of you.”
“Oh, stop.” Jon flipped his hand to the side. “You’re a natural beauty. We just highlighted what you already have.”
They exchanged a glance before breaking into a flurry of motion behind her, and though she vaguely registered they were dressing, Rowena couldn’t help but wonder if getting all dolled up in front of Caedmon would end up being the worst mistake ever.
Once, not too long ago, she’d worn a similar white gown in his presence. Stepping into the silk slippers, she twisted her ankles to work the shoes onto her heel. On the beach. That first day he’d come home from Castle Seviere.
Two years of living in hell, of doing everything possible to get back to her, and she’d been a complete bitch even as he’d repeatedly told her he loved her. The last thing she wanted was to do or say anything that would bring up a bunch of memories she’d spent the entire afternoon trying to help him forget.
“Do wizards ever really wear these things?”
Turning toward Oliver, she chuckled at the long gray beard he’d glued to his cheeks, the gray wig trailing past his shoulders and heavy robes he’d tied with a rope at his waist. Heck, had she known he was dressing as Fandorn, she would’ve told him to trade in the expensive cologne for some burnt fish guts.
She glanced down and the pointed hat in his hand earned another laugh, especially with those silver stars and half moons sewn around the brim. “Not any that I’ve ever seen.”
“Told you.” Jon poured rainbow glitter from a glass bottle into a small leather pouch. His chestnut hair was tied in a low ponytail, five o’clock shadow trimmed to accent his cheeks. Cinching the drawstring, he tucked the ends under his belt, the brass buckle slightly off-center from the colorful phoenix silkscreened on his red polyester tunic.
Wow. Rowena widened her eyes. He was either the gayest Merry Man she’d ever seen, or a cross between and Prince Valiant and the Jack of Hearts.
He met her gaze and smiled. “Ready?”
Oliver tossed his wizard’s hat to the bed and swept his hand toward the door, waiting for her to lead the way.
Her pulse skipped a beat as they neared the guestroom. Cheers of a stadium crowd spilled into the hall as the football announcers reviewed the post-game highlights. If Caedmon showed the slightest hint she’d triggered his PTSD, she was marching straight back into the bathroom to wash her face and change.
A peek around the corner and the way he seemed hypnotized by the television, and she stepped into the threshold, clearing her throat.
He glanced at her and then did a double-take, his penetrating gaze absorbing every inch of her until she was warm all over.
His shoulders bunched. He slowly stood. Her heart took off for the stratosphere as his fingers curled in on themselves and, in three long strides, he ate up the distance across the room.
Stopping in front of her, he reached for her face.
“Not her hair!” Ollie inched forward at the same time Jon blurted, “Don’t ruin her makeup!”
Darting an agitated frown over her shoulders, Caedmon lowered his hands to his sides. Her eyebrow twitched as he went down on one knee and collected her fingers in his. “Your beauty outshines that of Helios, my love.” But it was the wonder…the unending devotion in his gaze that ultimately made him the man of her dreams. No matter what was coming, she was going to do whatever it took to make sure she would always be his. “I am humbled beyond measure to stand at your side.”
A handful of rainbow glitter floated through the air, and Caedmon coughed as the sparkles caught in his lashes, coating his hair and sticking to his lips.
Oh, for God’s sake. Really? Rowena tossed a sarcastic brow at Jon before dusting off Caedmon’s shoulders.
“What?” He shrugged. “If there was ever a time for a little magic dust that was it.”
Grumbling under his breath, Caedmon pushed to his feet, tucked her hand inside his elbow and started them through the door.
* * * * *
Filling her lungs, Rowena hopped from the back of Oliver’s Land Rover, never so thankful for the cleansing night air in her life.
In a word, the two-hour trip had been exhausting. Made even more so by how every time Oliver changed lanes and accelerated to cruising speed, Caedmon’s face got greener than the day she’d convinced him to take a ride with a Dregg.
For the most part, he’d kept his head down, knee bouncing and staring at the floor. But hey, at least the way he’d wrenched to attention at Oliver’s latest request proved the motion sickness hadn’t messed with his hearing.
Shaking the wrinkles from her skirt, she glanced toward the vehicle as he crawled out behind her. He continued to wear out the ridges on his molars, and she swung back toward Jon with a smile.
No. She didn’t wanna fight with the guy. Not after everything they’d been through to get here. To her, Oliver’s suggestion made complete sense. Especially once he’d explained the strict rules about Violet’s coven and how important it was they stick to all things medieval.
Honestly, what was the big deal if she and Caedmon took the lead? Wasn’t that the whole point of them dressing up in the first place? So they could blend in as if they’d done this before?
And yet, one word from Oliver and Caedmon had reverted right back to the same, simmering, closed-off man he’d been this morning. His hand landed on her hip and she sighed.
Yes, he’d told her the truth. But whatever was bothering him, he hadn’t told her the whole truth. And she would’ve bet every thin dime Ollie had stuck in her checking account the problem didn’t have anything to do with Caedmon’s imprisonment, or Gaelleod, or his carsickness during the drive here.
The door slammed and she faced the long wooden structure in the center of the preserve. Surrounding evergreens swayed in the wind and sloped down to a wide grassy field.
Off on the left, a steady stream of people milled through the building’s wide double doors. Just inside, refreshments lined a long buffet table set before a natural stone fireplace. A woman with the most gorgeous head of red hair Rowena had ever seen sat at a card table giving tarot readings.
Near the back end, high torches lit a concrete path leading toward a metal fire pit. Several folks stood in a semi-circle around the roaring bonfire, palms outstretched, most of them robed in either deep brown or the greens and oranges of the season. A few wore yellow and others all black.
Ollie shunted the locks and a tall man peeled off from a group talking just outside the doors, a smile in place and lifting his hand as he approached. “Greetings, strangers, and welcome.”
Okay…he seemed friendly enough. Returning his wave, Rowena wove through the vehicles in the gravel parking lot to meet him. “Hi, there. How’s it—”
“Greetings, my good sir, and well met this fine solstice eve.” Caedmon hopped onto the sidewalk in front of her and she internally face-planted her palm.
Right, right. This was supposed to ancient times and all that. Good thing he was way better at the lingo than her.
Bowing at the waist, Caedmon swept his hand across his knees. The guy grinned and extended his palm to clasp Caedmon’s forearm. “Call me Ben. I’m the High Priest of this coven. How’re you folks tonight?”
“Hale and well, thank you. Prince Caedmon Eastaughffe Austiere, royal emissary and third in line to his majesty’s throne.” He pivoted toward their group. “Allow me to present Her Radiance, the Candra-Scinlæce and Sorceress of the Veil, Wizard Oliver the Gray and Sir Jon the…the…” Caedmon frowned ran his gaze up and down Jon’s costume. “Court jester.”
Jon sniffed and crossed his arms. “I’m supposed to be a royal guard. Hello.”
Oliver jabbed him in the ribs. Then smiled.
Shooting a squint at Caedmon, Rowena pursed her lips. Seemed a little obvious-on-purpose he hadn’t used her name. Then
again, she’d never met another Rowena, and with her disappearance going viral two years ago, she couldn’t really blame him for wanting to play it safe.
“You favor us by wearing white, Sorceress.” Ben lifted her hand and she inclined her head as he dropped a kiss to her knuckles. “Though Mabon is the time we choose to honor our dark mother, we also celebrate nature’s balance. We reap what has been sewn, embracing the earth’s descent into darkness, and yet your presence will serve to remind us of the returning light. Please, make yourselves at home.” He nodded toward the gathering. “Would you care for some refreshments before the ceremony begins?”
“Your generosity is most kind. Unfortunately, we cannot stay long.”
“Oh?” He turned back to her, and just something about the way he searched her face made her fight or flight response kick in.
Aw crap, if she wasn’t careful, next, the guy was liable to recognize her.
Caedmon’s hand came to rest on his pommel and, plastic or not, she didn’t harbor any doubts he could do some serious damage with that thing.
“Any other time, we would love to join you.” She smiled and placed her hand on his arm. “Alas, tonight we’ve come on a dire errand, seeking the aid of a witch named Violet.”
The High Priest inched back a step, his eyes narrowed. “You did, huh? Can I ask why?”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Oliver’s voluminous sleeves flapped around as he tossed his hands in the air. “Just go tell her Oliver’s here with an old friend. We need to talk to her, that’s all.”
Ben shifted his focus to Oliver. A tense moment passed before he nodded and jerked his thumb toward the building. “Okay. Follow me.”
Though it reeked of paranoia, Rowena took a cue from Caedmon and lifted her hood as they trailed Ben across the lawn. Peeking out from under the edge, she kept her chin down and wound through the milling crowd toward the back of the building.
Ben stopped at a door and twisted the knob, showing them into an office filled with several filing cabinets, a wooden desk, laptop, printer and modem.
“Wait here.” He studied them all before exiting, shutting the door with more emphasis than necessary.