What's Up, Buttercup? (Vexatious Valkyries Book 1)

by Jane Cousins

  “So, no more kissing?”

  “Hey, you bastard-” Welst cried out in dismay as Galen’s hand shot up, grabbed the slender tip of his favourite ceremonial sword and snapped it off.

  “Run, little Demon. Run, whilst I’m still willing to let you leave.” Galen absently grabbed his pocket handkerchief wrapping it around his bloodied hand as he watched Welst temperamentally fling aside his broken sword and scurry away. Shifting his gaze to Stephanie, Galen noted a strange look on her face. “You okay?”

  Stephanie forced herself to take a hard won step back away from him. By the Edge of her Hatchets, she was in so much trouble here. Galen, standing before her in his tailored tux, his hair falling down over his intense dark eyes, blood dripping from his hand and down his throat to stain the collar of his white shirt. She’d never wanted any male as much as she did right at that moment.

  She was a Valkyrie in love, and she had no idea what to do about it, except ignore it and carry on as planned. “Come on, let’s get this fuck up the Queen’s plans party started.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “That was kind of… underwhelming. I just thought we’d get more of a reaction. It wasn’t like we held back or anything.” Stephanie glanced up at Galen as they threaded their way through the last of the lingering party-goers, heading for the exit.

  “Agreed, we loudly and pointedly interrogated everyone over the age of seven hundred about the start of the war, Flagstaff turning stabby, and their thoughts regarding the Shamans.”

  “And I doubled down on the attention factor. Hitting hot buttons of any wannabe brides that got in our way like I was playing whack a mole.”

  “You gave it your all, I was impressed.”

  “Ditto, in regards to you terrorising any Guard who got too close by growling at them menacingly with intent. We made a production about speaking to the Bellan Swarm, and the Idelski. Though both parties played dumb. And the Pake were too drunk on mead to make much sense. I’ve caused riots in ATM lines with a lot less effort. This… this was kind of a fizzle as fuck ups go.”

  “Yes.” They paused to let a large family group proceed them. Glares promising future retribution were slung at Stephanie whilst several come hither looks were fluttered Galen’s way by the marriageable aged daughters.

  “You know, the blonde in the red dress is your best bet, right?”

  “For what?” Galen looked around, confused, wondering whom Stephanie was referring to.

  “I totally think we are on to something here. The creepy Shaman trio. The geas preventing any Demon from thinking too much about them. The mysterious start to the war. How unmated males only began turning stabby during the current Queen’s reign. I totally plan to expose what’s going on and fix you. But if we don’t. Then the blonde in the red dress, drinking whiskey sours, meets all of your non-meld wife criteria. Blonde. Six-foot tall. Blue eyes. She didn’t flinch when I verbally attacked her but she did retreat, so shows good instincts. Just saying, she gets my vote.”

  “She gets your vote?” Galen was surprised at how calm he sounded. He was aware his Valkyrie was oblivious to emotional nuances but he thought after the sex… after that kiss tonight. He’d left nothing off the table when he sank into that hot, burning kiss.

  Stephanie had to know how he felt about her. He’d assumed she was letting him off easy by ignoring his blatant heart on the sleeve existence. Yet it was still a kick to the gut to discover she could so blithely send him into the arms of another woman without even a millisecond of hesitation.

  “Her name is Bethany, I believe. She’s a property developer. Even if she fails to knock down an historic site, I understand she has a hell of a time riling up the local community groups who rally to try and fight her plans. She wins on the conflict front either way.”

  “So she’s smart. You’ll make quite the power couple.” Stephanie forced a bright smile, trying to look like she hadn’t just swallowed a nest of wasps. “Perfect, even.”

  “You know, you’re right. If this all goes pear-shaped and I don’t get off the stabby fast-track, then I’ll definitely marry Bethany. Force a meld. As you said, she meets all my criteria. Thanks, for pointing her out.”

  “You’re welcome.” By her Hatchets, why didn’t she add a heaping of broken glass to that wasp’s nest she’d just swallowed?

  “Although, I think you might be wrong about this evening being a bust. It seems we did get a reaction after all.” Galen’s eyes flicked to the armed escort that had surrounded them the moment they exited the ballroom. These were not their regular set of Guards.

  It was only with close scrutiny that Stephanie spied the tiny silver stars pinned to their uniform collars, the Queen’s Personal Bodyguards. They had effectively hemmed them in and the corridors they were leading them down didn’t look familiar. This wasn’t the route back to their suite - slash - prison.

  It appeared that their plan to make some very obvious waves in Queen Laynn’s pool had produced the desired result after all.

  Stephanie could have cried out with sheer joy, thank you, yes, she was going to get to hurt someone real soon. She so needed to burn off some of this… anger that was suddenly coursing through her veins. It was either maim and kill some Palace Guards. Or hunt down Bethany, the possible future Mrs Galen Darvyn, and pulverise every bone in the Demoness’s body until she slunk away, weeping, promising to never lay a manicured nail on Galen. Let alone marry him.

  “Do you know where they are taking us?” Stephanie queried in a low whisper. The unfamiliar corridors remained sumptuous but there was no staff or guests in evidence. Only the fourteen of them marching along, their footsteps ringing out loudly, echoing on the cream marble floors.

  “I believe this is the Queen’s private wing.”

  They took several more turns before finally coming to two large ornate doors that swung open automatically to allow them to enter. Instantly their escort fanned out, standing at attention around the perimeter of the room.

  At first glance the space differed little from Welst’s Salle. Large. Expensive wallpaper on the walls, this time a soft cream with flecks of silver. Floor to ceiling mirrors flanked a marble fireplace big enough to fit ten men. Whilst three magnificently tiered chandeliers cast sparkling rainbows across the ceiling.

  The only thing that declared that this room was special, different, was the fact that there wasn’t a stick of furniture in evidence and the floor was concrete; polished and buffed, but very plain and stark in contrast to the walls and fixtures. It could have been a bizarre decorating choice but the drain in the very centre of the room, that clearly stated this room had a purpose. It was where blood and fluids were too often shed.

  Stephanie studied the grim faces of the Queen’s Bodyguards. Standing at rigid attention, they obviously knew this place well. Had no quarrel with what went on here. She could tell by the eager glint in several of their gazes.

  Galen felt Stephanie all but vibrating in anticipation next to him. He brushed his arm against hers to get her attention, communicating with a pointed look for her to tone it down. She could have all the maiming and killing fun she could handle, after they got some answers.

  Biting the inside of her cheek, Stephanie tried her best to look a little intimidated, fearful even, that’s what Laynn would be expecting. Though she was guessing from Galen’s eye roll that she wasn’t pulling it off.

  “Stop bouncing.” Galen whispered, reaching out to take her hand, giving it a squeeze. Anyone watching would have seen it as a gesture of reassurance, when in reality Galen was worried that the Valkyrie was going to magic in her hatchets any second, and go to town before the big show commenced. He turned his head, leaning over, whispering directly into her ear. “You ever heard of delayed gratification?”

  Heated shivers raced down Stephanie’s spine, suddenly all she could think about was Galen naked, his broad chest glistening with sweat, burning need for her gleaming in his eyes. Oh, my, delayed gratification? “Is that where I tie you to the
bed and go out and kill a Platoon of Ogres, before returning to have my wicked way with you?”

  “Sounds like we already have our first anniversary plans locked and loaded.” Galen smiled wickedly, loving the look of confusion that flashed in those gorgeous blue eyes. He was tired of hiding his feelings for Stephanie. No more. She would be gone from his life one way or another very soon. Big deal if she thought him foolish, weak, for loving her, then so be it.

  “Slumming it, Galen? I can understand taking the edge off with a conveniently located underling but I hope you haven’t made the mistake of forming any sort of attachment.” Laynn stalked into the room flanked by her three Shaman pets, all wearing their voluminous grey cloaks, hoods pulled low. Welst brought up the rear, the double doors silently closing behind him. Leaning back against them, he absently rubbed his bruised throat, a sulky yet triumphant expression on his face.

  The sharp click of Laynn’s high-heels sounded loud on the concrete as she strode towards them. Tonight she was wearing a dark chocolate silk sheathe that made her hair appear a glossy blue-black and her skin gleam like ivory. Haughty. Regal. Innate confidence lifting her from merely attractive to eye-catchingly striking.

  “You annoying pissant. We haven’t had this much trouble turning a Demon Berserker since Flagstaff. And he caused us one tenth of the grief you have.”

  Anger roared through Galen at having his suspicions confirmed but he determinedly kept his emotions locked down. The feel of Stephanie’s warm calloused hand in his helped. “I can only say how honoured I am to be the fly in your champagne. So it’s true, then? You’re behind it all. You discovered a way to turn unmated male Demons stabby, just so you could fuel your little war. It all comes down to money, how crass of you.”

  Laynn’s dark eyes widened in surprise. “I’d heard that you and your little secretary were trying to dig up information in regards to the war and my Shamans. I hadn’t realised how very wide of the mark you still were. But it’s not like I could allow you to keep making all that noise. Someone at Court might start trying to ask the wrong questions, and when they physically can’t make a peep, they would soon realise I had my little twigs place a geas over them. Once you know it’s there, it begins to wear thin eventually. As you seemed to have discovered for yourself, dear Nephew.”

  “You’re saying you didn’t have your pets begin turning my brethren into Berserkers so you could start a war and benefit financially?”

  Laynn lifted her nose in the air, a patronising smile clinging to her lips. “You have it ass around backwards. You know, for a lawyer, you are remarkably inept at gleaning the truth from some rather in your face facts.”

  “Having a magical geas re-write history and prevent me from even thinking about those facts might have something to do with that. Why don’t you tell me what is going on then?”

  “Oh, dear, here come all the inane, annoying questions. This is the part in the proceedings that I don’t enjoy prolonging. Let’s just get to the good part. Kill the girl, and for the last time, turn Galen Berserker.” Laynn sent a hard glare in the direction of the three cloaked Shamans standing at her back. “I have an early pilates session in the morning and can’t waste all evening on this paltry matter.”

  “Wait. I think I deserve to understand what the hell is going on before you sentence me to a mindless, savage state.”

  “You deserve? Listen to you, so self-serving. What I do, what I have always done, is for the good of the Monarchy, for the good of the Conflict Demon Realm.”

  “Really? You admitted you have the ability to trigger Knustabber in unmated males. But you singled out Flagstaff, of all your siblings, to lead the Berserker Battalions? That was somehow for the good of the Realm? Please, we both know he was an emerging threat to your position on the throne. Everyone we spoke to liked Flagstaff. Went on and on about all his good points, his potential. How with just a few more decades under his belt he would have made a splendid King.”

  “And I was supposed to just step aside for that frat boy? because that’s essentially what he was. Females, alcohol and parties, that’s what Flagstaff excelled at. Where was he when our father died?”

  “Given your differences in ages, I believe he was still at school.”

  “Age? Bah, if he’d had ambition, a vision, then age should have not have mattered. I knew from the cradle that I was destined to rule. To lead. Flagstaff? Yes, he was quite charming and perhaps he might have been gaining increasing support from several factions who were whispering in his ear that he should challenge me for the throne. But the one thing he didn’t have was the guts for subterfuge. Flagstaff actually came to me to ask for advice. He wanted to do the right thing. Not play games. Can you imagine ever being that naïve?”

  “It does sound like rather a big mistake on his behalf. What did you do?”

  “I figured since he was so keen on doing the right thing, then he should step up and be truly useful to the throne. And how else to achieve that than to devolve into one of those things. Lead the berserker savages. It was the perfect timing. Between just us, I had underestimated the Hordes intense desire to reclaim what they had… lost.”

  “Yet you said I had it ass about backwards. If none of this was ever about the war, the money, what was it about? Keeping your throne safe from Flagstaff?”

  “I think I might have an inkling.” Stephanie spoke up for the first time, meeting Laynn’s amused, challenging look. “You dropped a big hint just a moment ago. Talking about the Horde wanting back something they had lost. But they didn’t lose anything, did they? You stole it… or should I say you stole them?” Stephanie waved her hand at the three motionless Shamans. Their heavy cloaks covering them from head to toe. With the hoods down, their faces were nothing but deep, dark, featureless shadows.

  “She’s not just a sharp-tongued bimbo. I get why you keep her around.” Laynn raised a hand and clicked her fingers together imperiously. The Shamans reached up in synchronised movements, tossing back hoods and shedding their clocks, sending the voluminous material pooling to the floor.

  “What did you do?” Stephanie shot Laynn a look full of revulsion and anger, almost crushing Galen’s hand she was gripping it so hard to prevent herself from calling her hatchets.

  “What I had to for the good of my Realm.”

  “This is unconscionable.” Galen could only feel pity as he studied the three creatures. It was hard to tell their sex, but they were tall and thin. The reason for their strangely bulky lumpy frames was now readily apparent. Each of them was wrapped in glowing, clearly be-spelled, hellfire proof chains; encircling their throats, upper bodies, their legs, down to each ankle. The chains digging so deeply into their brown bark-like skin that the links never clinked or made any sound. The skin around where the chains burrowed into their bodies was a nasty mottled colour, as if disease was setting in. And there were ugly black scabby round craters all over their bodies. Galen was guessing once upon a time they’d had thorn like protrusions growing there but the chains had long since eroded them away to nothing but festering nubs.

  Their faces were uniformly long and thin, their leaf coloured eyes, set back in deep, shadowy sockets, full of pain and despair. Straggly, mossy, stringy hair fell from their skulls to their forcibly hunched shoulders. They looked ill, and beyond all hope. It turned Galen’s stomach.

  “Look at you. So judgmental. This is why you should never reign. You don’t have the guts to do what needs to be done. To rule our kind, you have to be ruthless, expedient, willing to make sacrifices. My father played his Courtiers off against one another to keep them in line and himself amused and well-fed. But all that internal conflict did nothing but keep us inwardly focused. I’m the one who sent out spies to infiltrate other Realms. To help us understand what made them tick, what made them panic, what buttons to push to bring conflict. How to keep the money flowing into our coffers unless those Realms wanted mayhem in the streets and war at their doors.”

  “Blackmail.” Galen spat the word
out as if it tasted bad.

  “Business. That’s all it’s ever been.”

  “You know you want to tell me how it all began, have at it.”

  Laynn absently caressed the diamond necklace around her throat. “It all but fell in my lap. I just did what any good ruler would, take advantage of the situation. These three came to me eight decades after I began my reign. There was a strip of densely packed wooded land along our border. They offered a deal, money in exchange for the property. Our coffers were reasonably healthy, I had no need of money. Then they offered me something else, something intriguing. A way to distract those in my Court who were moving behind the scenes, beginning to spread rumours that party boy Flagstaff had potential. Whispering that all he needed was a century to mature and some savvy guidance.”

  Stephanie was so bored, she hated the villain monologues. They so loved the sound of their own voices. Their stories always the same. I did what I did for – insert loved one’s name – but what they really meant was they did it for themselves, and grew to enjoy the power or the pain they caused and saw no reason to stop. “Could you do me a solid and just strip your story down to the bare facts, without all the supercilious patting yourself on the back padding?”

  “That eager to die horribly, Blondie?” Laynn smirked even as Galen squeezed Stephanie’s hand in warning, telegraphing the need for her to be patient just a little longer.

  “Apologies.” She beamed a fake smile Laynn’s way. “You were saying?”

  “Yes, please continue Aunt.” Galen kept his expression neutral even when Laynn sent him a dark, suspicious look.

  Laynn huffed, but continued talking. “Long story short, they found a way to magically tinker with our DNA, triggering Knustabber in the unmated eldest son of my most devious political detractor. It proved a very useful distraction.”

  “So you kidnapped the Morghdorn Shamans so you could have their powers at your beck and call?” Galen surmised.