by Jaci Burton
Yet his words did not match his emotions. "I do not care what you do. It is your job to run the keep."
"I do not know how to run a keep."
He rolled his eyes. "Then learn. You have one month until we marry." He turned and started off, but she caught up with him and grabbed his muscular upper arm. All her efforts at politeness fled with his abrupt dismissal. "Wait, Braedon. First, I will not be marrying you.
Second, I know nothing of running a keep. Third, you are incredibly rude. Where do I sleep? Who is going to show me around? Will I be introduced to your people?" A crowd had begun to gather. Curious spectators, all strangers to her. There was no point scanning the crowd for an ally. She already knew she was completely alone here.
"First, you will marry me because as king I have decreed it so. Second, you will have to learn how to run the keep because it is the queen's job to oversee everything. Third, I am not rude. I am busy and have no time for you."
No time...the audacity of the man! How dare he speak to his betrothed this way? "You will need to make time for me."
He advanced on her, but she held her ground, refusing to be bullied by this...this...bully. His breath sailed across her cheek as he looked down at her.
"What is your name again?"
She was to be his wife and he did not even recall her name? "Trista." She resisted the urge to spell it for him.
"All right. Trista. Follow me."
Finally, they were getting somewhere. She hurried as his long strides took them to the stone keep at the center of the inner courtyard. He entered through an archway and then through a wooden door.
The smells of baked bread filled the warm air around them. So did the heat, nearly oppressive. She backed away from the ovens.
"Aunt Nadine. This is Trista, my betrothed. She apparently has not yet been educated how to run a keep. Teach her all that she needs to know. We marry in one month's time."
"Of course, Braedon."
Trista offered a tenuous smile to the woman he called Nadine, a white-haired woman in her older years.
Her face was round, not yet filled with lines like some of the ancient ones. The woman was tall. All humans were tall. Much taller than Trista, as well as most faerie males.
Braedon was the tallest human of all. Not unlike the elvin males she knew, except for a few differences in their facial features, especially his ears. They were rounded instead of pointed. How odd.
And of course, all human males must be unpleasantly surly. At least this one was. Well, she could be just as gruff and unlikable as he was. In fact, if she was unpleasant enough, perhaps he would release her from their betrothal.
Yes, a very good idea!
Braedon turned to leave.
"Wait!"
He stopped and arched a brow. "What now?"
She offered him her sweetest smile. "I simply wish to inform you that I will not marry a rude, inconsiderate barbarian such as yourself."
Braedon rolled his eyes and turned to his aunt. "Please keep her occupied so that she does not bother me. She is as annoying as a fly swirling around shit." Trista's mouth hung open and she forced it closed. Before she could recover enough to offer a retort, he had slammed the kitchen door behind him.
Well! This would not do at all. She would simply have to find a way to get a message to her father and have him fetch her. She refused to marry Braedon. No matter what her father ordered her to do. She would run away if she had to, but she would not marry him.
"He is somewhat brusque in manner," Nadine said, sliding her arm around Trista's shoulders.
The woman smelled of yeast. And cinnamon. And reminded her of home and warmth. She inhaled and closed her eyes, wishing she were standing in the dining room of her castle in D'Naath. Or even Winterland, with her sisters.
She missed her sisters. Would she ever see them again?
"He is an oaf and crude," Trista announced to the doorway where Braedon last stood, as if the very act of doing so would make him hear her insult.
"Aye, that he is at times. But underneath, his heart is good." Bah! The man obviously had no heart. Stone was more like it.
Cold, unfeeling stone.
*
Braedon brushed his hair away from his face and the sweat along with it. Unfortunately, he could not brush the faerie princess from his mind. He definitely did not want her on his mind.
Or on his land.
Not that he had much choice in the matter. Duty forced him to marry and marry he would. Which faerie he wed did not matter. What mattered was annexing the land leading into the D'Naathian forest. Their treaty with the faerie would be sealed with his wedding to Trista. The D'Naathian and Greenbriar lands would forge a strong vantage point against the wizards attempting to gain a foothold in the southern regions.
Aye, this marriage was a good thing in that respect. So marry Trista he would.
After that, he would have no further use for her.
Though she was a beauty. A breathtaking one at that. He was typically not interested in women for anything other than a quick fuck and sexual release. But he had been taken aback at his first sight of the faerie princess. Long hair the color of soft mink cascaded down her back, the ends curling near her shapely buttocks. Her wings were the green of a summer meadow, shot through with threads of shimmering gold. That same gold flecked her skin and colored her eyes. Truly, she sparkled like a rare gem.
Until she opened her mouth, that is. Then she harped incessantly like an old shrew. If that was what he had to look forward to from her, there would be separate bedchambers. He wondered if he would have to bind her mouth during mating or if he would be lucky enough that she would shut up when he fucked her.
Not that he was profoundly interested in mating with her anyway. He would do what was required to produce heirs and nothing more. His focus would remain, as always, on the threat of war. Not on a woman.
Pleasures of the flesh, like any type of frivolity, only led to trouble.
Swinging the heavy sword in an arc over his head, it clashed against his opponent's sword and knocked the man backwards. Satisfied, he nodded at the guard and went off in search of water, wiping his face with his jerkin. He stopped at the fountain and stuck his head underneath, letting the cool water wash away the steamy heat and sweat from his body. After scooping a handful to drink, he headed for the keep, intent on whiling away the heat of the afternoon on business and paperwork.
When he reached his office he sighed, grateful that the stone rendered the keep cooler than what they had to face outside. What he wouldn't give to bathe his body in a cool forest spring.
Swimming in the water of the forest, indeed. Was the girl insane? No one could enter the D'Naathian forest until after he and Trista were wed. The property did not yet belong to him, even though a portion of the woodland had long ago spread inside the walls of Greenbriar.
No, she would not be bathing there.
His cock twitched and sprang to life as he allowed himself a few moments to ponder a vision of Trista naked and bathing in one of the faerie land's springs.
She had a ripe body, just entering her womanhood. Curves in all the right places, full, high breasts that strained against her shift and hips made for a man's hands to grasp. Her lips were ripe cherries against her pale skin, luscious and full and begging to take a cock between them.
His erection pulsed fully now. How long had it been since he had slaked his lust between a woman's thighs?
Too damn long. That was his problem, and one he intended to rectify soon.
Then thoughts of the lusty faerie would flee his mind and he would waste no more time thinking of her.
He lived a solitary existence and preferred it that way. He cared for, sheltered and protected the people of Greenbriar. They had no complaints of their treatment. If he was not kind and engaging with them, so be it. They had long ago learned he would not be that type of king.
That type of king had died the day the wizards struck down his father. His father had
His father's arrogance had cost him his life.
Losing his mother not long after had made Braedon realize the only person he could count on was himself. The only one the people of Greenbriar could count on was him.
He would protect them by remaining steadfast and focused on war, on preparation. Not on frivolity.
And never on love.
Chapter Two
Trista remained in the kitchens with Nadine, despite the unbearable heat emanating from the ovens. She had made a half-hearted attempt to learn what to oversee as far as kitchen supplies and meal preparation.
But her mind had been elsewhere, devising a plan to return to her beloved forest. Surely her father would see reason soon enough, realize his folly in having left her with Braedon. Her father loved her, she knew. So did her mother. He was merely trying to teach her a lesson by leaving her with King Braedon.
But it would not work this time. No lesson was being learned here.
And when her mother found out what her father had done, there would be hell to pay.
She was simply biding her time until her father returned for her. While she was waiting, there was no reason to be impolite. After all, she had been raised not to be rude to people. Unfortunately that same type of upbringing apparently had not been given to King Braedon.
After they were finished in the kitchens, Nadine took her to the hall, demonstrating how to arrange and set the tables for the evening meal, then led her up the staircase to the bedrooms.
"We have moved your things to your new bedroom," Nadine said over her shoulder.
"New bedroom?"
"Aye. Next to Braedon's, of course."
Trista swallowed. The thought of sleeping this close to the heathen was more than she could bear. "The bedroom I stayed in last eve is more than adequate." Nadine shook her head as they reached the top of the stairs. "No, 'tis not adequate for someone who will soon be queen."
Not in this lifetime. But she followed along without comment as Nadine showed her to a lovely room.
A large bed centered the cozy, expansive space. Tapestries hung on the walls and thick drapes covered the tall windows. A hearth sat against one of the stone walls, with a privacy chamber on the other side.
Much more space than she needed.
"I will have Maita move your things. She will assist you with bathing and dressing."
"I am perfectly capable of dressing and bathing myself, Nadine. I am sure Maita is as busy as everyone else here. I do not require a personal maid."
Nadine's eyes, so like her nephew's, sparkled when she smiled. "Very well, then. Would you like to rest a bit?"
She had rested plenty while her father and Garick had left her alone the day before. The last thing she wanted right now was more time alone to think about her predicament. "No, I do not need to rest. I would love to meet everyone and see the rest of the castle." Nadine beamed. "Wonderful." She led her down the long hallway and back down the stairs to the main hall. A child's laughter and giggles rang out in the empty room.
"Donny! Come here!" Nadine shouted.
A boy no more than eight or nine stepped out from underneath the long trestle table and approached them. His hands were hidden behind his back. He stopped in front of Nadine and stared up at her, beguiling innocence and a devilish smile mixing together.
Something about the boy seemed familiar, but Trista could not tell what it was. A shock of dark hair fell across his brow, and his blue-green eyes twinkled with mischief.
"What have you behind your back?" Nadine asked.
The boy shook his head. "Nothing."
Placing her hands on her ample hips, Nadine bent forward. "Donny. What have you behind your back?" With an exasperated sigh, the boy pulled his hands forward. Mud and tiny pebbles filled his small fists, oozing out onto the floor.
"Are you trying to torment Braedon again?" she asked.
"No, Aunt Nadine. I was just building a castle from mud."
"On Braedon's chair," Nadine added.
A kindred spirit, Trista thought. She hid her smile behind her hand.
"Go wash yourself. Then come back and clean up the mess you left. Hurry, before he comes in and catches you."
Rolling his eyes, Donny scurried off.
Nadine shook her head. "He tries to get his brother's attention in all the wrong ways."
"Brother?" Donny was Braedon's brother?
"Yes. Did Braedon not introduce you to Donny and to Erin?"
"No he did not. Who is Erin?"
Nadine sighed. "I am so sorry. Braedon involves himself completely in training for war with the wizards.
He does not take much time to socialize. Even with his own siblings, I am afraid. Erin is his sister. She is fifteen seasons. Donny is eight seasons."
So, Braedon had a brother and sister he had not bothered to mention to her. Not that he had mentioned much of anything else, for that matter.
"Ah, here is Erin now."
Trista followed Nadine's gaze, watching a young girl walk toward them. She was tall, like her brother, but very willowy. Her long hair was a mixture of brown with sun-kissed highlights. She smiled like her younger brother Donny and unlike the surly Braedon.
Erin grasped Trista's hands and squeezed. "Hello, you must be Trista. I have always wanted a sister. I am so happy that Braedon is to be married!"
Trista grinned at the eager sincerity in the girl's tone. Only a handful of seasons younger than herself, Erin was just beginning to show the bloom of womanhood.
"Hello, Erin. I am pleased to meet you."
Erin tilted her head and leaned to the left, obviously trying to peer around Trista. "You are faerie. Your wings are beautiful."
"Can you fly?" Donny added as he swooped down the staircase and ran toward them, throwing his arms around Erin's waist.
"Thank you. And aye, I can fly."
"Oooh, let me see, let me see!" Donny exclaimed.
She looked to Nadine, who smiled encouragingly.
Trista lifted herself off the ground and hovered a few inches, fluttering her wings slowly. Donny stepped behind her and reached out, gently caressing one of her fluttering wings.
"Donny, do not touch!" Nadine admonished.
Trista laughed. "It is all right. It tickles."
The boy laughed.
Erin approached and gingerly touched her wings. "It must be lovely to have such magic within you. I have always wanted to possess powers of some sort. But I am only human and bound to land, with no magic whatsoever."
Trista fluttered to the ground and took Erin's hands in hers. "Oh, that is not true. There is magic in your bright smile, in the way your eyes sparkle and your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink when you blush.
Your soft spoken voice has a lilting quality to it and I would wager you have quite an imagination. The words you speak are lovely. Do you write?"
Erin's mouth opened in a wide "O" and she blushed profusely. "Why, yes, I have papers and write poetry."
Trista nodded. "I thought as much. I used to love to take one of the tree sticks in the D'Naath forest and write love stories in the rich soil. Sometimes I would write them on paper up in my room. Words that only I would see. They contained my wishes for my future." And a young girl's fervent hope that she would some day find the man of her dreams. If she ended up married to Braedon, her hopes would be forever lost.
Donny tugged on her shift. "I build things from mud, rock and sticks. But Braedon will not let me go to the forest. He said the wizards hide there and they killed my father. Do the wizards really live in your forest, Trista?"
Trista looked down at Donny. Such a serious face for such a young child. She shook her head. "Not where I live. We watch them closely and our magic keeps them away."
"Oh." Donny looked down and studied his shoes, then quickly brightened with a smile as he glanced up at her again. "I could show you my forts sometime. Don't tell Braedon, though. Or he will make me take them down."
"I would like that very much."
"All right, children. There is much to be done here. Run along so I can show Trista the rest of the castle." After they walked away, Trista asked, "What happened to Braedon's father? And is his mother here?" A glimmer of tears pooled in Nadine's eyes. "Oron, Braedon's father, died in a battle with the wizards nine years ago. Braedon's mother, my sister Felicia, died giving birth to Donny a few months later." Trista's hand flew to her heart. "Oh, I am so sorry. What a terrible tragedy for all of you." Nadine nodded. "It was hardest on Braedon and Erin. Erin at seven years old lost her mother, and Braedon had to become king much earlier than anyone planned. He takes his duties very seriously now.
Too seriously, sometimes."
Trista wondered if losing both his parents in such a short period of time had made him the way he was.
The enormous responsibility of running a kingdom at such a young age must have been difficult for him.
Who was his counsel?
"Does he have elders?"
"Nay. Neither my sister nor Oron had brothers. When Oron died, Braedon became the official leader. Other than the guard, many of whom are older, there were none in the kingdom to counsel him." All that responsibility thrust upon him. No time to even mourn his losses. "Is that why he never smiles?" Nadine took her hand. "Child, that boy has not smiled since they laid his mother in the ground. Nor has he paid any attention to Donny or Erin. It is almost as if losing his parents extinguished a light inside him and took all his joy away. Nothing anyone says or does can lift his spirits. He is bound and determined to single-handedly vanquish the wizards."
Trista sensed there was more to it than vengeance, but she could not yet delve deeply enough into Braedon's emotions to tell what was there.
Perhaps that would be her mission here. To bring Braedon and his family close again. She would not stay, of course. Her father would soon come for her once he realized his error. But while she was here,
'twould give her something to do besides oversee the purchase of animals and the preparation of food.
A crash and an ensuing argument in the kitchen captured Nadine's attention. "Stay here. I must mediate between the cooks again."
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