by Mindy Klasky
“A Source?” I barely whispered the word.
He answered me, but he spoke to a point somewhere over my right shoulder. “A person who willingly provides blood to vampires.”
Before I could ask further questions, he got to his feet. I couldn’t miss his twitching his trousers into place. Blood hunger wasn’t his only distraction. Jonathan Weaver had definitely noticed my going sky-clad.
I’d had that effect on countless men before. But this was the first time I didn’t take a man’s physical response as my natural due. I wasn’t just a fae princess, owed attention the same way I was owed a room in the royal palace and the first choice of pastries at a party and the selection of dance partners at a ball.
I was a woman. Jonathan Weaver wanted me because I was a woman.
“Wait,” I said, brushing my fingers down his sleeve.
“Titania…”
I shivered, hearing the longing behind my name. Before I could pull him close, though, he spun on his heel, fleeing deeper into the hospital as if he were pursued by Oberon’s hounds. Before the doors closed, I thought I heard him groan, “Transfusion.”
I considered going after him, but I couldn’t imagine what I could say to ease his need. The only things I could do—offer him my blood, offer him my body—he clearly did not want.
Granting him the illusion of privacy, I settled back on the examining table. I took my time, drinking the root beer he had refused. It wasn’t as good as the Coca-Cola or the Mountain Dew, but maybe that was because it was no longer as cold as ice.
I shuffled through the wrappers, all that remained of my feast. I found one green M&M, caught in the bottom of its bag. Crunching the candy between my teeth, I basked in the sweetness that flooded my tongue.
But now, alone and sated, the electric thrill of the human food was gone. The riot of flavor, of rampant sensation, was like a dream remembered in an autumn glade.
Gathering my improvised gown close, I headed into the hospital’s main building. Across the dimly lit foyer, a door was open. I could hear voices inside—Nicholas Raines and Ashley McDonnell and a couple of creatures I did not recognize. No Jonathan. I had no idea where he’d fled.
I climbed the stairs to the Vampire Ward and let myself into my room. Settling onto my bed, I collected the playing cards I’d glamoured the night before. With a familiar flex of my fingers, I shuffled them into a new order and laid out a hand of solitaire.
Queen of diamonds on the king of spades—the cards stood at the ready. But try as I might, I could not make the two of diamonds transform into the black jack I desired. All it should take was a brush of my power, a tiny seed of magic. But the ley lines had taken all of that. Food and drink had restored my body, but they couldn’t begin to rebuild my powers. I would have to wait for sleep. Sleep and the ripening of the moon.
I shuffled the cards again. Laid them out again. Tried to play a standard game of solitaire, without magic, without converting the cards into the suits I needed them to be. I lost half-way through.
Six tries later, I still hadn’t won a game. But I was a fae princess. I wasn’t going to be defeated by fifty-two slips of printed cardboard. I shuffled and dealt. Shuffled and dealt. And when I finally won, I brought the cards together and launched another game, determined to show my first victory had not been a fluke.
9
I woke twelve hours later, feeling fully refreshed. My first thought was to test my powers, and I started with one of the playing cards I’d left on my nightstand. When I tried to change the seven of clubs into an ace, the image only wavered. Attempting to force it only brought on a massive headache.
I tried to reassure myself—the card had rippled. But my powers were every bit as depleted as I’d determined the night before. I couldn’t dismantle the ley-wall, even if I wanted to.
Jonathan wouldn’t be pleased by the delay. But even sexy alpha vampires couldn’t change the reality of magic.
Not that I thought Jonathan was sexy.
With disconcerting thoughts about my not-at-all-sexy doctor playing through my mind, I made my way to the nurse’s station. I had to wait my turn, between patients who needed medications and others who were being served blood meals in the form of transfusions. But the cat shifter nurse on duty finally agreed to bring me fresh clothes.
I ended up with a cotton shirt and matching drawstring pants fashioned out of faded blue cloth. The ensemble went by the unseemly name of scrubs, but at least I was securely clothed. New wardrobe mastered, I ran my fingers through my unbound hair and ventured out to take stock of Empire General.
Retracing my path to the main foyer, I came to stand just outside Ashley McDonnell’s office. I heard the witch doctor ask in a worried voice, “Are you sure we can trust them?”
“Cerberus Security are mercenaries, but once they’re bought, they stay bought.” Nicholas Raines was adamant. “If they say no fae prince has approached the far side of the ley blockage, I believe them. I’d be a lot more concerned about the fae outside your office door.”
My cheeks kindled as the witch made a surprised noise. But I wasn’t about to let any sharp-eared blood-sucking nighthawk get the better of me. “Dr. McDonnell,” I said, stepping through the doorway as if I hadn’t just been caught eavesdropping.
“Ms. Silveroak,” the doctor said. Her voice was compassionate. “I trust you’re feeling better after your exertions last night? Dr. Weaver said you gave him quite a scare.”
I’d scared Jonathan, had I? Before I could respond to that intriguing tidbit, a tinny bell sounded. Nicholas Raines, who’d been glaring at me like a hungry fox, pulled a phone from his pocket. He stabbed the glass screen with an authoritative finger before raising it to his ear.
“Raines,” he barked. He listened for a moment before he said, “No. We need a minimum of two guards on the perimeter, twenty-four seven. Four at twilight and dawn, when fae are most active.”
His order was met with a curt reply. Shaking his head, Raines stalked out of the office, firmly reiterating his command.
Dr. McDonnell looked worried as she shifted her attention back to me. “So,” she said. “Where were we?”
She sounded friendly. I wanted to trust her. But my headlong flight from the Thousand-Oak Grove had taught me that no one else cared as much about my safety as I did. With my magic running at its lowest ebb, there was nothing I could do to defend myself if Dr. McDonnell turned against me.
But I could strike first. I could play a Game—just a small one. I could prove to myself and to her that I was a fae princess, not to be toyed with. “Dr. McDonnell—” I began.
“Call me Ashley,” she said. “After last night, I feel like we already know each other.”
Excellent. “Ashley,” I said, doing my best to sound like a timid, embarrassed woodland creature. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that my magic created such an inconvenience for everyone.”
She made a dismissive sound with her lips. She truly was too nice for her own good.
“And I appreciate your making a room available to me, up on the Vampire Ward.”
“I’m just glad you were able to get a decent day’s sleep.”
“Actually,” I said, twisting my hands as if I were mortified. My fingers found the plain oak band I wore around my little finger, for occasions just like this. “I didn’t sleep that well,” I lied.
“What was wrong?” she asked with concern.
I turned the oak ring, letting my fingertips slide over its smooth surface. “I’m not accustomed to taking charity from people.” I ducked my gaze, as if I couldn’t bear to meet her guileless eyes. “Back home, I’m a princess.” I let my voice break across the word. Acting wasn’t that difficult. I might never see the Seelie Court again.
She murmured a reply, one of those musical little sounds that let me know she was falling into my woven story. She believed me. She wanted to help me.
“But here,” I said, “I don’t even own the clothes I’m wearing.” I gestured to my sha
peless blue scrubs. “I don’t have money for the vending machines.”
“You poor thing.” Ashley reached across her desk to pat my hand.
There. I had her.
I didn’t even have to keep her. I could play my variation on Oberon’s Pledge Game, take the good doctor’s money in exchange for my worthless ring, then come up with a pretense to give it all back. My goal wasn’t to get rich. My goal was to prove my fae skills worked in the Eastern Empire.
“If you could advance me just a little cash, enough to reach the moon’s first quarter… I could give you this ring as collateral—it’s a relic among my people. My father gave it to my mother on the day I was born, and she gave it to me just last week, a token for my w— for my wed—” I broke down, allegedly too distraught to continue.
Even with my barely awakened powers, I felt a tingle of witchy magic work the lock on Ashley’s desk drawer. The doctor frowned as she extracted a leather wallet from inside. “I don’t have a lot of cash with me.”
“I— I don’t know what to say,” I pretended.
I knew precisely what to say. I knew exactly how long to hesitate, how much indecision to play-act to make my mark feel safe.
She fanned out a handful of bills, mostly twenties. “Here,” she said. “Take this. I can get more as soon as the ley-wall is down.”
With aching deliberation, I slipped the ring from my finger. I gazed at it longingly before I pushed the trinket across her desk. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“I can’t take that,” Ashley said, as if she’d read the script for gullible marks everywhere. “I trust you. I know you’ll pay me back.”
She thrust the money toward me. I remembered not to grab it too quickly. In fact, my hand was still suspended in mid-air when I heard a wry voice from the doorway behind me.
“You’re about to make a huge mistake, Dr. McDonnell.”
10
I whirled around at the interruption, explanations already erupting from my lips.
I wasn’t surprised to see Jonathan Weaver standing in the doorway. Sometime in the past three nights, I’d learned the timbre of his voice. Even before I looked at his face, I knew exactly how his lips would twist, how his eyebrows would quirk as he responded to my protest.
Nevertheless, I tried to plead my case. “I wasn’t going to take her money.”
“Of course not,” he said, his disdain more chilling than any argument he could have made.
“I wasn’t!” My voice broke, leaving me thoroughly disgusted with myself. And in that moment, I wasn’t sure what I had actually intended.
Sure, I’d started the Pledge Game with the intention of bilking Ashley McConnell. But I’d changed my mind. Honestly, I had. I’d decided to return the money to her, right after it crossed my palm, along with a warning to avoid Games like mine in the future.
“Dr. Weaver?” Ashley said. She still held the money. But now she looked between the vampire and me, worry creasing the space between her eyebrows. Nobody liked learning they’d been duped.
“Keep your money, Dr. McDonnell,” Jonathan said. And then he pointed at me. “You. Outside. Now.”
I shrugged an apology toward Ashley before I followed Jonathan across the foyer. He strode through the emergency room as if he were absolutely confident I would follow. And he was right. I did hurry behind him—not because he’d ordered me, but because I needed to finish explaining. I needed to tell him he was wrong about me, that I had decided not to keep Ashley’s money.
He strong-armed the door that led outside and marched toward a fountain just an arms-length away from the twisted ley lines. I automatically noted the sliver of moon above us. My powers stirred, the slowest of bubbles rising from a pot set on the very edge of the fire.
All the fae magic in the world, though, couldn’t protect me from the rage on Jonathan Weaver’s face. “Empire General gave you shelter when you had nowhere left to go.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. I wanted to protest, but I didn’t have a lie ready.
“Your little trick with the ley lines is a disaster for Dr. McDonnell.” He loomed over me, forcing me to take a defensive step away. “It took her all night to set up emergency treatment options for the Empire. She spent the entire day canceling elective procedures.”
I dug my toe into the earth. I hadn’t intended to complicate anyone else’s life. I’d just wanted to keep Jonathan and myself safe.
“So you reward her generosity by pulling a con? And then you lie about it?”
He was right. I had abused the kindness of my host. I had acted most ungraciously, and I couldn’t begin to explain why.
“You’re no better than Oberon!”
The words hit me like a hundred-year oak crashing in the heart of the forest. I was better than Oberon. I hadn’t kidnapped an innocent human. I hadn’t raced my hounds to the doorstep of a hospital meant only to heal the sick. But I could hardly make that argument when I’d been caught playing the Pledge Game.
My silence seemed to enrage Jonathan even more. His fingers closed over my arm, pinching to the bone. “What sort of mind-game do you think you’re pulling?”
“It wasn’t her mind I was gaming.”
“What the he—”
“It was me!” I cut him off. “It was my mind! I needed to prove I could survive here!”
He dropped my arm as if he’d just discovered my flesh was silver. But no—he was only backing off because I was crying, great ugly sobs that ripped across my throat, boiling past my lips like belches.
“I ruined everything,” I gulped. “I’m supposed to be a princess. I’m the future of the Seelie Court. My parents, my ladies-in-waiting, every one of my tutors—they all expected me to heal the rift with Oberon!”
Now that I’d started, I couldn’t stop the words. They’d been lurking beneath the surface of everything I’d said, everything I’d done for the past three days, the past three weeks, months, years. My entire lifetime.
“I was supposed to be brave. I was trained to be clever. I was expected to take Oberon as my husband, to bind my fate to his for all eternity.”
My voice was shattered now. I was stuttering over my words, dropping half of them in disgust for my own weakness.
“But I didn’t have the courage. I didn’t have the strength. Instead of saving my people, I fled. And now there’s no way for me to go back to the Thousand-Oak Grove, to the only home I’ve ever known.”
“Titania—” he said, but I had to cut him off. There was nothing he could say that would make anything better.
“So, yes. I played the Spilled Ink Game on you and stole your wallet. And I glamoured the playing cards to cheat at solitaire. And I thought I’d play the Pledge Game on Dr. McDonnell—not because I needed her money but to prove that I could still do something, that every single thing I’d ever trained for, every little thing that makes me me isn’t lost forever!”
Forever.
That last word ended on a wail. I was keening for my life. I was mourning everything I was, everything I’d never be.
Jonathan’s fingers still gripped my arm. But now the anger had melted from his face. Instead, he was staring at me, shock written plainly across his features. He hadn’t realized what was at stake for me, here, in the middle of the Eastern Empire. I hadn’t fully known the risk myself.
He pulled me close against his chest.
It wasn’t supposed to feel this good—strong arms around me, a broad hand cradling the back of my head. I was a fae princess, damn it all to hell. I was fierce and independent and proud…
He shifted his weight, pulling me even closer. My face was pressed against his chest; I could feel the starched cotton of his shirt grow damp between us, soaked by my tears.
This was absurd. Fae princesses didn’t cry. Titania Silveroak of the Seelie Court was made of sterner stuff.
But Titania Silveroak was trapped in a faraway land. She was hunted by the one fae who had the power to destroy her body, to break her will. She was
stripped of her power, with nothing to do but wait for the moon to wax.
Patience had never been my strong suit.
Jonathan must have sensed the moment my reason started to return. His arms grew stiff around me. He started to drop his hand from the tangle of my hair.
I wanted him to stay. My words were gone, ripped out of me with the last of those soul-shattering sobs. But I could tell him what I longed for, what I needed. I didn’t have to speak aloud.
The fingers of my right hand slipped behind his neck. When he tried to pull away, I tilted my head back, just enough to meet his gaze. “Please,” I said. “I want this.”
He wanted it too. I could feel that, in the boulder-hard muscles that bunched beneath my palms. I heard the quick shift of his feet on the grass, as if he were fighting to remain upright. I saw the tightness of his throat as he swallowed, and then the glint of bright white fangs against his lips.
“Titania—” he started to explain or object or tell me I was wrong.
I slipped my hands lower, working the tongue of his black leather belt. He said my name again, but this time he was urging me to hurry. I laughed and kissed him, relishing the moment his lips stole heat from mine.
He carried us down to the grass, taking care to spare me the full weight of his body. I laughed at the courtesy and pulled him on top of me.
He was better than I was at working the strange ties of my soft blue scrubs. He was more familiar with his buttons too, with the strange, stiff attire of an Eastern Empire male.
But I made up the difference by showing him how to take advantage of the long green grass beneath us, turning its cool silk to a warm and welcoming bower. I taught him the song of the fountain behind us, sharing its chuckle as we discovered the quirks of fae and vampire bodies meeting for the first time. And we laughed together as the moon watched over us, casting a silvery blanket over the oldest magic in the world.
11