Claimed & Seduced

by Shelley Munro

  “This fowl is delicious,” Hortese said. “Try some, Keira. It’s even better than Hilda’s.”

  Keira’s mouth dropped open. “Sacrilege!”

  Cristop tipped his head and his dreads flopped over his nose. He jerked his head the other way, and they resettled. “I told you meal be good.”

  Amusement simmered inside Jarlath at Cristop’s smugness. “You did,” he agreed. “Are you ladies shopping tonight or do you have your stall set up?”

  The two women exchanged a fleeting look, full of silent communication.

  “Shopping,” Keira said.

  “Good,” Jarlath said. “Once we’ve finished our meal we can shop together.” He leaned toward Keira. “You can help cement my disguise. No one would expect to see me shopping in the company of two beautiful women and a youth.”

  Keira bit her lip. He smelled flowers and woman and closed his eyes to savor her presence.

  “I wish we were alone,” he whispered.

  “I’m not…it’s not a good idea for people to see us together. I don’t want to drag you into a gossip storm. You don’t know my stepchildren. Sitting with me is bad enough.”

  “All we’re doing is sharing a meal and going shopping,” he said and dared to reach over to touch her arm. He swore he felt the heat of her skin through her cloak, and again, he wished they were alone instead of chaperoned by a maid and a street urchin.

  “Where do you live?” Keira asked Cristop.

  “In the lower town,” Cristop said through a mouthful of food.

  “Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Hortese scolded and her pink eyes flashed a warning when the youth opened his mouth again. “Don’t.”

  “Is everyone almost finished?” Jarlath asked. “I’m ready to shop.”

  “The food isn’t finished,” Cristop said.

  Keira gestured for a waiter. “We’d like a go-pack please.”

  Jarlath watched her pack the excess and hand it to Cristop. “You’re a growing youth. You should take this and eat it later.”

  “Thanks,” Cristop said.

  “Masterfully done,” Jarlath whispered to Keira. “Where are we going first?”

  “You don’t need to accompany us,” Keira protested.

  “I have the evening to while away.” Jarlath stood. “Besides, I’d enjoy the company and require help with my shopping. How do I know what to buy? I’ve never been shopping before.”

  Keira’s hand flew to her chest. “Never?”

  “My education is sadly lacking.” He watched the thoughts chasing over her face and the way she chewed her bottom lip. He wanted to be the one doing that. Grata! The urge to take her in his arms and snatch a kiss had him sidling nearer. He forced himself to back off and instead breathed in her flowery scent and relished her company.

  A relationship wasn’t possible. He had to remember his parents expected him to adhere to duty and assume bigger responsibilities. He stepped back farther, his feline stirring, his gruff bark of protest echoing in Jarlath’s mind for long secs.

  Keira stiffened then retreated to Hortese’s side, and Jarlath froze.

  She’d heard his feline? Curious. Maybe he should’ve asked more questions about her heritage and her abilities. He strode to her side and ignored her glower of frustration.

  “How long have you lived here on Viros?”

  “Just over five cycles,” she said, and her chin lifted in hauteur. “I am not a spy.”

  “I don’t believe I suggested the possibility.”

  “But you were thinking it,” she snapped. “The courts cleared me of espionage charges too. I am not, nor have I ever acted as a spy for the House of Cawdor.”

  Jarlath stared, mesmerized. Keira in a high dudgeon was a remarkable sight. Her eyes flashed with golden lights and a surge of delicate green highlighted her cheekbones.

  “What do you want to buy first?” Cristop demanded, his loud voice breaking the tension.

  “I need a new hat to cut the cold from the coming wintery months and a coat,” Jarlath said. “What are you shopping for, Keira?”

  “We need some charms from a magical stall—if we can find one,” Hortese said.

  “You in luck. The ban against magical stalls relaxed recentlike. Soldiers ignore. This way,” Cristop said.

  Hortese’s hair tendrils stirred, and she frowned. “I thought the magical stalls were nearer the exit streets in case of raids.”

  “Not true now. New one this way.” Cristop gestured with a jerk of his head. “Better spells. More expensive but better.”

  “Do you get a commission for steering customers to this new stall?” Hortese demanded. “We require top-quality spells, not shoddy pretenders.”

  “You see, then decide,” Cristop said.

  Jarlath lifted a brow and offered his arm to Keira. “With that sort of endorsement, you need to at least visit the stall.”

  Keira ignored his proffered arm and marched ahead.

  Cristop cast him a sideways glance, merriment making him appear younger. “She pissed at you.”

  “For now.” Jarlath realized happiness filled him, even though, for some reason, Keira didn’t appreciate his presence.

  “Buy her some pretties,” Cristop advised. “Women like presents.”

  Jarlath grinned. “Do you have experience with the ladies?”

  “Don’t get pissed with me.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Jarlath strode after the women.

  Cristop darted around him and pointed. “This is the best clothing stall. The weaver will not cheat. Good quality. I would buy here if—” He trailed off with a careless shrug but Jarlath filled in the gaps. The kid couldn’t afford the price of the clothing.

  Shame filled Jarlath then. He knew nothing about the people who inhabited the city. He knew nothing of their trials or how they existed on a daily basis. Lynx had known. If he was to become king, he needed to fill the gaps in his education. This disguise might aid him with learning more of the Virosian people.

  Keira and Hortese paused at a stall selling colorful hats.

  “I like the one with the green,” Jarlath said. “It will go with your skin tone.”

  “I don’t require a hat,” Keira said and moved on.

  Jarlath handed Cristop a coin. “Purchase the green one and pick one for Hortese too. We’ll be at the spell stall.”

  He strode after the women, whistling under his breath. Not only did he find himself curious about his people, but he ached to know more about Keira too.

  “I think the prince has a thing for you,” Hortese whispered.

  “No.” He couldn’t, they couldn’t ever take their fledgling friendship further, no matter how much she willed it, no matter how much she liked him. A relationship was too dangerous with Razvan sniffing in her direction. She’d thought she’d managed to escape his clutches, but her half-brother seemed determined to get her under his control.

  Grata! She couldn’t let that happen. She needed a spell to protect herself and her friends.

  “Marcus was a good man. He wouldn’t expect you to remain alone.”

  “No, he wanted me to find someone else when I was ready,” Keira said and it was true. They’d discussed it before—no—best she didn’t travel that road again. “This must be the stall Cristop mentioned. It’s not very busy.”

  “It won’t hurt to look at their wares.” Hortese scanned the contents of the stall. “Keira, the youth is right. I can feel the magic emanating from the spells. Can you?”

  Keira focused and her pulse rate jumped, the flare of magic sizzling across her skin. “Let’s speak to the owner.”

  A crack of thunder rent the air, and the people around them froze, their gazes going skyward. Stars glinted in the sky, yet the deafening clap ripped through the hushed atmosphere again.

  “Purchase four protection spells right now,” Keira ordered. “Hurry.”

  Hortese spoke to the vendor, and he handed over four small sachets and accepted a handful of coins in exc
hange.

  When a third boom rippled through the sky, the vendor picked up a protection spell and stuffed it inside his own cloak.

  Jarlath moved closer and Keira thrust a protection spell at him. “Here, place it in your pocket or hang it around your neck. Cristop.”

  “What is it?” Cristop didn’t sound afraid, but Keira was because she sensed Razvan was making his move, putting the stamp on his dynasty. If she was right, then this was an arrogant declaration of war.

  All around them people stood, heads tipped back to scan the night sky. Somewhere to their right, a woman screamed.

  Jarlath wrapped his arm around her shoulders and his touch soothed some of her angst. Surely, she was wrong. It wasn’t possible for Razvan to accumulate this much power.

  A loud explosion drew everyone’s attention. Jarlath’s arm curled around her waist in a protective manner. Keira found herself leaning into him, despite her reservations, as she stared into the sky.

  Flashes of light burst from a central point, separating and joining into a pattern. Slowly, a shape pulled together and fear tugged her stomach tight. A gasp escaped before she could bite her bottom lip to block the sound.

  “What is it? Keira?”

  She swallowed, her gaze tracking the pattern as it formed in the sky.

  “All hail the leader,” a male voice shouted from beside them, and he raised his fist into the air.

  “All hail the leader,” another voice shrieked, also lifting a hand in salute.

  One by one, the people around them shouted the words and raised their hands. Keira didn’t think everyone yelled the words but most did. Thankfully, the protection spells seemed to work for them and the stallholder. She glanced at Jarlath and saw him staring at her instead of the image of the giant crow spreading across the sky.

  “Do you know anything about this?”

  “No! This is my home. My home,” she repeated and her heart raced as he studied her, weighed her innocence. He had to believe her. Marcus had been good to her—he’d saved her from certain pain and perhaps death at her half-brother’s hands. “Viros is my home.”

  “Shush. It’s okay, sweetheart.”

  “The crow is fading,” Cristop said.

  The youth was right, and as the lights in the night sky faded, so did the shouts from the surrounding people. One by one, they lowered their hands and went back to whatever business they’d been conducting before the explosion, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

  “They don’t even seem to know what’s happening,” Keira whispered, shocked and a little freaked by their behavior.

  “It’s as if they were under a spell,” Jarlath said. “Keira, you head home. You should be safe enough. I’ll return to the castle and discuss this with my father and the defense council.”

  “What about your shopping?” Cristop asked.

  “The castle guards are coming,” Keira said. “Let’s move. Cristop, come with us.” It wasn’t a suggestion, and Jarlath sent her a look of approval.

  “I don’t know you,” Cristop said backing up, his gaze darting left and right as if he was deciding which way to flee.

  “I promise on my husband’s grave that I won’t hurt you or sell you into slavery.” On occasion, she knew authorities rounded up and sent away the young and the homeless, and she wondered if Jarlath knew this happened in his kingdom.

  “Slavery?” Jarlath’s eyes danced as if she’d made a joke, but when he saw her expression, his humor slid away, leaving stark shock. “That happens?”

  “Yes,” Keira said.

  “The slavers made sweep last week,” Cristop said. “Took my friend.”

  “Grata!” Jarlath spat. “I need to get out more. Cristop, Keira owns a farm on the outskirts of the city. She has weapons and knows how to use them. If she promises to keep you safe, she will do it.”

  A loud snarl came from their right and a man shifted to feline. He turned on his neighbor and pounced, strong hindquarters propelling him through the air.

  The castle guards came running but not before several others waded into the fight, some shifting into feline form and others remaining humanoid.

  “We have to leave. Now,” Jarlath ordered. “This is getting out of control. Let me see you to your vehicle, then I’ll get back to the castle. Quick.” Jarlath ushered them from the square, and Keira didn’t argue.

  Their protection spells would keep them safe from a magical attack. A physical assault could still kill.

  Hortese hurried Cristop along and it seemed the boy had decided to give his trust. She was glad and would happily offer him a position on the farm. Melvyn would take the youth under his wing.

  On reaching their flymo, Prince Jarlath hauled her into his arms and kissed her. It happened so quickly she didn’t have time to marshal her defenses. Heat rushed over her, sank its claws into her body. Then, she was free.

  “Stay safe,” he said gruffly and strode away.

  “Oh my,” Hortese said.

  “He’s not bad for a toff,” Cristop said.

  “He’s not a toff,” Hortese told the boy as she ushered him into their flymo. The rounded door bore elaborate signwriting identifying the chubby round vehicle as belonging to Cloud Farms. They used it for hauling produce to the factory and zipping around the city when necessary. She shot Cristop a triumphant look. “That is Prince Jarlath.”

  “Nah.” The boy plonked his butt on a fold-down seat and secured the shoulder harness. “You think I fell down in the last rain storm?”

  Keira raised her fingers to her mouth and rubbed her tingling lips. He’d kissed her in front of Hortese and the boy.

  “Tell me truth,” Cristop said to Keira. “Who is he?”

  “That is Prince Jarlath, first in line to the throne.” Keira settled herself in the pilot’s seat, and Hortese took the spot in the only other fixed seating before pushing a button to close the entrance hatch.

  “What’s ’e doin’ kissin’ you?” the boy demanded. “The prince doesn’t go to the market and eat fowl with ’is fingers.”

  “He did tonight,” Keira said.

  “Don’t believe you.”

  Keira shrugged and started the flymo before pulling back on the control stick to guide the vehicle into a climb. “Believe me or not. It won’t change the truth.”

  “What was that up in the sky?” Hortese asked. “It looked like a crow.”

  “You heard Razvan earlier. He’s in charge of the House of the Cawdor. Somehow, he has discovered a way to appear from Gramite. I believe tonight was a declaration of his might.”

  “It’s the start of a war,” Hortese said, her tone grim. “The men and women who saluted the crow in the sky are under his power. This will turn the House of the Cat inside out and start civil war. Mark my words. We need to prepare.”

  “Yes.” Keira curled her fingers around the manual control in an effort to stop the tremors slipping over her skin. Razvan was ruthless and she feared the outcome of tonight’s display of power. None of them were safe. Razvan had made that clear during their last face-to-face meeting, and he didn’t make idle threats.

  * * * * *

  Jarlath pushed through the crowd in the square. Some ran in panic, crashing into others and sending parcels and people toppling. Jarlath scooped up a young girl who was trying to pick up her packages.

  “Leave it,” he ordered. “The crowd will trample you.”

  Tears flowed down her pale face, her bright green eyes overflowing. “My master will beat me if I return empty-handed.”

  Grata! She was a mere child. “Who is your master?”

  “Prince Jarlath,” she said. “He orders his head of kitchen to beat me.”

  “Fukk,” Jarlath muttered. How the hell had he managed to escape reality for so long? Lynx was right. The kingdom was rotten at the core, yet he’d refused to see the truth. “I promise you Prince Jarlath will not pass the order this time.”

  She sent him a look of disbelief.

  A black leopar
d slammed into the girl and sent both her and Jarlath to the ground. When the leopard came at them with its maw wide open, sharp teeth glinting in the lamp light, Jarlath scrambled to his feet and thrust the girl behind him. He met the leopard’s bright green gaze and held it, a fierce snarl bursting up his throat. The leopard froze in confusion, and Jarlath repeated the challenge.

  “Leave,” Jarlath ordered. “Go home.”

  The leopard backed up and slinked away.

  Jarlath seized the girl’s hand. “Let’s go.”

  A hefty and bosomy woman attempted to halt their progress and threw a punch. Jarlath gaped at her until her fist connected. Pain burst through his jaw in a thunderclap, snapped his head back.

  The young girl darted around him and stomped on the woman’s foot. When the woman attempted to strike again, Jarlath snarled and mislaid his courteous manners to punch in return. The woman went down and the girl cheered.

  Jarlath grinned. “Bloodthirsty wench. Come along. We’ll enter the castle this way.”

  He picked up his pace and tugged the girl to the entrance. She balked.

  “What is it?”

  “We must use the staff entrance,” she said. “Will lose my job if I enter this way.” She shot him a suspicious glance. “Are you new? Why don’t you know this?”

  Jarlath glanced in the direction she tried to lead him. Three black leopards roamed the space along with a crowd of men who seemed drunk.

  “Bugger the rules,” he said and dragged her to the entrance.

  A guard stepped out to challenge them. “You can’t come in this way.”

  Jarlath drew off his hat and glared at the man. “I am Prince Jarlath and we will enter.”

  The guard did a double take before paling. “Pardon me. I apologize, Prince Jarlath.” He stood to attention and offered a salute.

  Jarlath ignored the girl’s gasp and towed her past the guard. “Which part of the castle do you work in? I’ll escort you there and explain what happened. They will not punish you.”

  Her eyes were big and wide and she trembled like a forest leaf. “T-the produce kitchen, Prince Jarlath.”

  His com buzzed. “One moment while I answer this. Yes.”

  “Where are you?” Ellard sounded breathless, panicked. “I’ve just heard what happened. Are you safe?”