Enchanted: A Fae Fantasy Romance (Fae Magic Book 3)

by Jessica Aspen

  The very air in the clearing seemed full of possibilities. A breeze blew through, blowing her starry cloak aside revealing her narrow feet encased in tall black boots.

  What would he do?

  What wouldn’t he do?

  After he’d gone back to the Winter Court and done what he needed to, he’d be wealthy with power and free for the first time in his life. She had no idea how much power he actually had socked away. It was far more than only a lord’s share. It was enough power to rival the strongest of the courts, the kings and queens of Underhill.

  What would he do? Well he sure as hell wouldn’t be wasting his time playing these kinds of games. He’d had enough of the courts, the queens, the politics.

  He winked. “What all the lords do—whatever I damn well please.”

  She laughed. “Maybe you’re not as young as you seem.”

  He had no idea whether she was a hundred, a thousand, or ten thousand years older than him. All he knew was that she’d promised him enough power to guarantee his success. And for that she could do anything, be anyone she fucking cared to be.

  “As the Queen’s Fool, once I’m in the party I’ll blend in.” He gestured north at the Black Queen’s brand-new summer digs. “But with the spell over the castle it’s likely I won’t be able to to communicate with you. You’ll have to trust me.”

  “Darling boy, I certainly don’t trust you. That’s why I brought this.” She extended a hand out from under her cloak and unfolded her fingers. Centered in her palm was a large silver ring set with a smooth icy blue stone.

  “Moonstone?” He examined the ring with his sight. “It doesn’t seem to have any magical properties. How is this going to help?”

  “Don’t be deceived. It has magic, ancient magic. It’s from the old world, from where we lived before we were here.” She made a wide sweeping gesture indicating the forest, but he knew she meant Underhill itself. Few talked about the world before, the world the elvatian had nearly destroyed before finding the bridge to Underhill and the portals that linked the worlds.

  Could she be that old? A chill crept through him and for once he wished he could see under her cloak.

  He bowed low. “My lady.”

  “My lady,” she sneered. “You’ve never been one for reverence. Don’t start now.” She thrust out the deceptively simple piece of jewelry. “Take it.” He stared at it, as if her palm held a spider. She laughed, and the challenge in it was obvious. “Take it, boy. It won’t bite.”

  He swallowed and hesitated before picking up the ring. She needed him. He needed her. Sometimes that was all the trust you had in the world. Maybe it was all the trust there ever was. He picked it up and hefted it in his palm. It was hard and cold and weighed far more than it should.

  “I have its twin,” she said. “It will open up the moonbeams and you’ll be able to talk to me at night. Just remember, it draws power from the moon, so I won’t hear you in the dark of the month, nor will it be very strong for the few days before and after the dark. Put it on.”

  He hesitated. He’d trusted her, as much as he trusted anyone, but he knew more than anyone that allies could become enemies, if the wind blew wrong.

  She laughed, the bell-like sound echoing over the clearing. “Afraid?”

  “Only a fool isn’t afraid.” If she was as old and as powerful as she implied, she could have killed him ten times over. Instead, she offered him more and more power, and now what looked to be a priceless elvatian artifact. He’d taken far too many risks and gone too far down this road to back off now.

  “And am I not the Queen’s Fool?” He found himself smiling and he took the risk, slipping the ring over his third finger. Nothing happened.

  He held it out, letting the old silver warm in the sunlight.

  “It only works in the moonlight.”

  “How?”

  “Like I said, it’s very old. It has it’s own tricks and traits, but needing charms isn’t one of them. Just ask and it will respond.” She stepped back. “You’ll be on your own in there. If you’re discovered, it’s likely she’ll take you down to the dungeons. ”

  “I’m always on my own.” And had been for far too long.

  She nodded and opened up the portal. “Be careful anyway. The queen should have toppled from power when Prince Kian married the MacElvy witch, but she’s still alive—and still on the throne. The prophecy isn’t done. It will use any tool that comes to its hand.” She gave a small humorless laugh that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. “And a man with as few ties as you have will be fodder for the fates.”

  The portal closed, leaving nothing but a circle of flattened grass and the weight of the ring on his finger. He could still walk away. He had enough power to be the equal of most elvatians. He could disappear, maybe go to Earth and open a shop. Or become a prosperous farmer in the land of Idt.

  All the years of being under someone else’s control flashed through his memory, like a film reel he’d seen the last time he’d gone to the human world.

  No. He shook his head and opened his own portal. He’d never be under someone’s thumb again. He’d stay in this world. His world. He had to. He owed a debt. More than a debt. He’d left a piece of his heart frozen in the Winter Court. This job would see that he had the powers of an elvatian lord. And he’d be able to take on anyone, be it the Black Queen...or the White.

  Chapter Three

  The sun was low when Bosco arrived at the gleaming walls of the Black Queen’s summer castle. It was a gem of a chalet. A picture-perfect retreat in the hills from the craziness at court. The queen had limited the invitations to her summer parties, but he’d heard it was packed to the walls. Goddess only knew where he’d sleep, but he’d land on his feet. There were always one or two gullible ladies willing to take him to bed. The queen’s banner flew from the topmost tower, the silver gryffin on black flashing in the late afternoon sun. The anticipation and nerves he always got before a job hummed through him, and he wondered how this one was going to go wrong.

  Something always went wrong.

  He set up a quick screen of glamour. Anyone glancing his way would skim over him thinking he was part of the scenery. Despite what he’d implied to his lady employer he’d scoped out the area three months ago. When the queen had left the Black Court and moved here to set up party central he’d been one of those left behind. At the time, he’d been grateful for the respite. Now he wondered if the queen suspected him and there’d been a method to her madness.

  He made a wide detour from the front of the castle and the mob of petitioners trying to get in, and circled around the towering stone walls to a quiet spot near the moat at the back where the Dark Forest itself crept close. A drain led from the moat to a pond inside, snaking right under the wall and the edge of the spell. He could slip in and no one would ever know he’d avoided the front gate and the spell.

  He stripped off his clothes, storing them in the tiny leather bag where he’d stashed everything he’d need for spying at the queen’s castle. Thank goodness some of his other employers only paid in gold and he was able to buy luxuries like this giant’s bag. A small leather sack the size of his fist, but oh how amazing how much fit inside.

  Tying the leather thong with the bag around his neck he stepped into the moat. The water was calm, deceptively calm. He waded, sticking close to the edge. Where was the damn thing? He wiggled a foot, stirring the currents and got a response. In the center of the deepest part, water churned. He got out fast. Where he’d been standing the smooth surface of the water grew agitated.

  He grinned. Good thing he’d prepped for this or he’d be dinner tonight instead of dining in the great hall. He tossed in the dead rabbit he’d left on the shore. There was a flash of silver scales and the moat monster soared high into the air, devouring the bait in one gulp and sinking back under the surface. Damn. He’d had no idea it was that big. He hoped he’d put in enough tranquilizers to take the thing down.

  He waited for the drugs to t
ake effect, waited until the water was still and dark for a full ten minutes. He tested it, dancing naked in the shallows like a loon. No response. Time to create the real glamour.

  His Gift had started small, but as a boy serving in the courts it had been forced to grow. Now, with the extra power from his benefactress and other jobs, he had glamour down to an art. He layered his fool disguise on first. That was easy. Bosco the easy lay. The lady’s man. The devil-may-care-as-long-as-I-have-a-good-time man. All of that and more insinuated into his aura. It would take someone very skilled at hunting deep to realize it was all an act.

  Next, he strengthened the glamour that protected his thoughts. He didn’t know any other fae that could do this, use glamour, not just in a physical way, but to deceive the mind as well.

  It was why he’d survived so long living day-to-day, skin-to-skin, with such powerful queens. First, growing up in the White Court and now, undercover in the Black. If he hadn’t honed these skills he’d have been down in the dungeons long ago.

  Nothing moved in the black water but a gust of wind drove eddies across the top. Had it been long enough? Screw it. Nothing got accomplished without risk.

  He dove in.

  The water was a cool clear green underneath. Wispy fronds tickled his bare legs as he kicked his way to the castle wall and surfaced long enough to take a large breath before diving to the grate.

  The bolts were rusted through, easy enough to dislodge since he’d spent time cutting through them weeks before. He’d done everything but swim through and enter the castle grounds on his visit, just in case his lady needed him to get access in a hurry. Preparation was everything in the spy business.

  Be prepared to get in. Be prepared to get out. And when dealing with the royals of the fae, be prepared for everything to go batshit crazy.

  With that in mind he used a tiny tug of power to lay the grate back in place. No one would suspect he’d been through here.

  He emerged into the landscaped grounds of the lower part of the queen’s garden and looked around in appreciation. This summer retreat was nothing like the Black Court.

  The Black Court was immense, formed of natural elements, like trees and rocks, with some heavy dark stone buildings scattered throughout. The walls of the queen’s Court where she spent most of her time were flowered thorny hedges and the dungeons were carved into the caves below. He’d heard tales that the Black Court had started life as a simple keep, but now it stretched over acres of Underhill, held in place by the belief of thousands of residents, and by the power of the queen.

  This castle was brand new. It looked as if it had been pulled off a postcard of the shores of the Rhine and transported here. And it might very well have. The queen was certainly capable of such a theft. The pointed fairy tale turrets and white stone glowed golden in the sunset. Whereas the Black Court was a sultry, seductive swamp where the debauched court could hide and ferment political plans, this castle was a Cinderella castle set on top of a hill filled with topiaries trimmed into giraffes and gryffins, burbling streams, and smooth emerald swaths of grass.

  And none of it had even existed until three months ago.

  What, or who, would propel the queen to do such a thing?

  The sun had dropped lower and early shadows spread through the grounds. It was getting late. If he looked closely he could see the spell gleaming overhead in the last of the afternoon sun. Lights started to appear all over the hill, looking in the distance like nothing more than tiny fae lit up for the evening. He waded to the shore and waited for the warm summer air to dry his skin before he put on his tuxedo.

  It had worked. He was inside and spell-free. Now to slip into the castle and assume his role of Fool.

  Something moved towards him, coming down the path that stretched up into the gardens. He braced for attack, but it was only a ball rolling down the hill, faster and faster. It hit a rock, bounced, then skimmed over the grass, rolling past his feet.

  “Quick!” A woman’s voice called from up the hill. “Grab it!”

  He reached, too late. The ball plunked into the pond, submerging and bobbing to the surface.

  The woman, the skirts of her elegant evening gown scooped up in her hands, her breath coming in short pants, chased after it. She stopped short on the grass at the edge of the pond, just before her silk slippers touched the mud.

  “Damn it!” She pushed back a long strand of strawberry blond hair, tucking it behind one delicately pointed ear. “Are you just going to stand there? Can’t you see I’m already dressed for dinner?”

  He smiled. “I can see that.” He admired her long slender legs through the see-through folds of her skirt. The dress was modest by Black Court standards, draping in soft apricot folds around her breasts, the gauzy material hinting at the shadows of her nipples and the outline of her legs before dropping to the ground.

  She tilted her nose in the air and pinned him in place with crystalline green eyes, every inch the Tuathan lady. “Well, since you’ve been skinny-dipping, you’re already wet. Go in and get my ball.”

  “Don’t think so,” he said. “Get it yourself.” He wasn’t sure if it was her assumption of his compliance or her utter non-reaction to his nudity that got his hackles up. Goddess knew, no man was at his best after a swim in cold water past a sleeping moat monster, but she could have at least checked him out.

  Her chin shot higher. “I don’t have time to change. The bell will be ringing any minute.”

  “Well then, you’d better get to stripping off.” He bowed and waved at the water.

  The tips of her pointed ears turned rosy.

  “You’re very pretty angry.” He grinned and winked, his casual fool’s arrogance rising naturally to the top. He nearly lost it and laughed when she actually got her nose even higher and gave a condescending sniff, as if she were the queen herself.

  “Fine,” she said, looking around. She stalked across the grass and picked up a long stick, dragging it out from under the shrubbery. “I’ll do it myself.”

  She kicked off her slippers, placing them carefully on a rock, and got a better grip on her skirt. Fabric balled in one hand, stick in the other, she stepped into the slick mud at the edge of the pond and leaned out. The tip of the stick touched the ball, pushing it further into the pond.

  “Damn it!” She stepped back, her arms flailed, and she slipped in the slick mud.

  He moved fast, catching her and holding her close. The sweet scent of ripe peaches flooded his senses. He forgot why he was supposed to be here. Forgot he didn’t even look like himself. Forgot everything except the feel of her in his arms.

  “How dare you.” She pushed against his embrace. “Put me down.”

  He moved out of the mud and placed her on her feet in the grass. “My apologies.” He bowed, suddenly serious. “My lady, I won’t presume to rescue you again.”

  Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed. “See that you don’t.”

  He turned to walk back into the shadows, but she called to him. “What about my ball?”

  “I thought you didn’t want rescuing?”

  With her golden red curls tumbling out of her once elegant hairstyle she reminding him of a kitten, all claws and teeth and huff. “I don’t have a choice, do I?” She glared. “It’s either you or me, and I’m running out of time.”

  “Let’s not call it a rescue then. Let’s call it a bargain.” He grinned. “Will that make it easier to swallow?”

  “A bargain? What could you want from me?”

  “I’m afraid I’ve lost my invitation in my swim and I know the party is full. I need to get into the ball.” She stared to answer, but he cut her off. “And a seat for dinner.”

  “You didn’t even have an invitation, did you? You’re one of those gawkers who’ve been trying to get in here all week to see the queen.” She laughed. “Even if you get in, what are you going to do for a bed? Sleep on the tables? The castle is stuffed full. It’s six to a room.”

  “You’ll just have to ge
t me a bed too.” He let his voice thicken with innuendo and was rewarded by her immediate blush.

  “Now, that’s asking too much.”

  “Is it? Why is a child’s toy so important to you?” He couldn’t see anything special from here. He’d had one like it himself as a child. The ball rolled on the surface of the water, the pictures inside the glass blurring and moving as they told their tales. “Maybe I should get it and see why it’s so valuable.”

  “No!” She calmed herself. “It’s only important to me.”

  He waited, dipping a toe into the water.

  “Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll find you a place at the table. Heck, I’ll even make sure it’s where you’ll be able to see all the action.” She smiled, a sweetly wicked smile that had his blood singing.

  Bosco hid his own smile. She had it in for him, and it turned him on. At another time, and another place, he would have moved in on the tension between them and worked into a sexual frenzy that she’d never forget. He’d love to wrap her luscious long legs around his body, and kiss that naughty mouth, but he had a mission.

  For his plan to work he needed to keep a low profile. Lord Haddon, the queen’s advisor, hated him. And the queen knew him far too well. This woman and her dilemma had fallen into his lap. Lady Luck, as usual, was on his side.

  “Now, please. I need my ball.” She was ticked. That was good. It was likely she was so mad she’d find him a spot in the back of the room where he’d be able to hide in plain sight.

  “I’d let you play with one of mine.” He grinned at her indrawn hiss. “But dinner is soon and I don’t think you’d have time to roll in the grass with me, tidy yourself up, and still get me on the list. I’ll get you your toy, but I don’t just need a spot at the table, I’ll need that bed too.”

  “I can’t do that!” In the distance a bell rang, calling the guests into the dinner. She cast a frantic look up the hill and then back at the ball. “There are no beds. We’re full up.”