Of Royal Blood: Part One (Courting Magik Series Book 1)

by Michele Barrow-Belisle

  The blonde barely noticed us as she slunk past. But I took full advantage, getting a good long look at her. She wasn’t one I'd seen around here before. Or one I'd see again it seemed. I shook my head. How easily they were led like lambs to the slaughter.

  Don’t let the door hit you on your way out, I snarked to myself.

  When I turned back, Hannah elbowed my ribs. “You are totally slut-shaming her right now, aren’t you?”

  “I didn’t say a word.”

  “You didn’t have to.” She pointed a wagging finger in my face. “The eyes… remember? They tell all.”

  I sighed, rolled my eyes that were always over-sharing, and made a mental note to wear shades more often.

  “Kat. Can you come in here?”

  I heard Hannah suck in a gasp, which was louder than the one I'd sucked in. Holy hell. We were totally busted eavesdropping outside his room. Crap. There was no believable explanation for why we needed to be in this wing of the castle at this hour of the morning, other than well…gloating, which felt far more satisfying than it should. I mean, it wasn’t like he and I were ever—

  I cleared my throat. “Yes, of course, Your Grace,” I said and gave Hannah a quick glance before I headed for his door.

  Her hands were covering her mouth to hold back the squeal I knew she wanted to let loose. Probably envisioning me stepping into the blonde’s place. Well, that was never happening. I paused just outside his door.

  “Is there something you need?”

  My one saving grace was that I was due to start the princess's lessons in the next fifteen minutes. I could always claim I was searching for something for her lesson plan. A book maybe? That I'd gotten lost on my way to the new library and ran into Hannah on my way back and....yeah, right. None of that was believable. Hell, I wouldn’t even buy it.

  He had meandered deeper into his room. “Come in and shut the door.”

  I did, and the last thing I heard before the door clicked shut was the tiny squeal Hannah couldn’t manage to keep in any longer.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. I didn't want anyone slut-shaming me for something that wasn't going to happen between us. In centuries past, a girl wouldn’t be caught dead in a man's room without a chaperone, unless something was going on. But this was now, and I was fully in control of myself. At least, I hope I am.

  “What is it?” I said it a little abrasively because all of this was making me uncomfortable. I glanced over to the other room, at the bed. Perfectly made. Not even a wrinkle in the embroidered bed cover. Hmm. So, had they done it on the floor? In the shower maybe? I felt my face grow warm as my mind took it upon itself to paint pictures of each of those scenarios.

  “You look flushed,” he said. “Have you recovered from… the library?

  I was relieved that he’d glossed over the events that followed the library, which honestly, were equally as unsettling. “I’m fine, just, late. If we could, uhm…” I gestured for him to hurry up.

  “Right. I need your help.”

  “With?”

  “There's a function I'm expected to attend with the French consulate. And I could benefit from the expertise of your tongue.”

  My tummy took an inappropriate dive. “Sorry?”

  “French.” He leaned in frowning. “That's what you do, right? Teach my sister French.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course. French. Right.” I frowned. “So, you want French lessons?”

  “If it’s not too much trouble. Just the basics.” His eyes skimmed over me briefly before coming to rest on my face again. Then he walked into the bedroom and stripped off his shirt.

  I nearly swallowed my tongue.

  “Sorry,” he said over his bare-muscled shoulder. “I'm late, too.”

  “No, it’s— I'm just gonna— I'll…” I turned around, feeling hotter and more awkward than I had when he'd talked about my tongue.

  “I'm not getting naked, Kat. You can turn around.”

  I did cautiously, then looked at the black dress shirt he'd put on to go with the faded denim jeans. Very hot. I swallowed and cleared my throat. “When would you like to begin?”

  “This evening,” he said, combing a hand through his hair. His eyes danced with mischief. But then again, they always did. “At the dinner.”

  “The dinner,” I parroted. Now, I was the one looking perplexed. Man, karma was a biotch.

  “Yes. I need you there with me at this function, so I don’t fuck up and accidently call the head of the French consulate’s wife a slutty cow. Again.”

  “What?” I couldn’t hold back my laughter. “You cannot be serious.”

  “Deadly.” He nodded. “Have to avoid a repeat at all costs.”

  “Right. If you don’t mind me asking, wouldn’t it be easier just to actually learn the language? You speak so many, and I’m sure with some practice, you could master it.”

  “There’s a lot of French I’m very masterful with,” he said, unbuttoning his pants to tuck in his shirt, and taking way too much pleasure in the way I was undoubtedly blushing. Least I didn’t turn away this time.

  “But there’s no time, this thing was last minute. He crossed swords with the queen on his last visit, and my ineptness only fueled the rift. And now for some reason, he wants to make amends.” He shrugged as if none of it was of any interest. “Mother insisted their disagreement is having a negative impact on her French subjects. But the queen can’t attend, so she’s forcing me to go and you…” he paused, “seem like my best chance of not fucking it up.”

  I nodded. Not sure if I was flattered or… “Okay, well…what time is this event?”

  “Eight. It’s formal. Naturally. You do have formal, don’t you?” He scanned me again, but this time it was super invasive. Like I was fully exposed and wanted to cover up my private parts.

  Not a thing. But with a small miracle, I hoped Hannah might. “I’m sure I can find something.”

  “Good. The car will pick you up at the south entrance at seven thirty. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Oh.” My insides sank a little. “We’re not travelling there together?”

  “There’s something I have to do first.”

  Something? Or someone?

  Ethan reached out a steady hand to brush my hair back over my shoulder. His touch slowed, as his fingers grazed the bare skin along my neck. I took a step toward him, toward the aura of warmth radiating near me, but I tripped over my own feet and fell into his arms. Literally.

  My legs quivered. Before long, the rest of me did the same. He was turning me to jelly from the inside out. Oh, god, if I did something ridiculous like pass out again...

  “Kat.” He was still holding me, but he'd pulled back a little. “You're pale. You all right?”

  “I, um...” Not sure how to answer that question. “Not really. I mean, yes. Of course. I'm fine.” Real women didn't go slack-jawed and weak-kneed over a gorgeous guy's touch. I mean, get over yourself. But the quaking in my core indicated otherwise. Was it just me? Had I singlehandedly set the feminist movement back a century? This was crazy. I managed to regain enough lower body strength to extract myself from his arms. And the moment I left his physical sphere, the storm lifted and calm set in.

  He made sure I was steady on my feet before letting me go.

  “Thanks,” I murmured, my hands busy fixing my shirt. There was no amount of smoothing that would iron out the wrinkles, but it gave me something to do. And might help ward off the hives prickling the surface of my scarred skin, just waiting to erupt. I straightened, forced my hands into stillness and met his gaze. “You've helped me more than once. Guess I owe you.” I offered a small smile. Because sometimes, it was just impossible not to when he looked at me that way.

  “Ah. She smiles. Knew you had it in you.” He winked.

  I shook my head. Charming as it was to be winked at and rescued by a real-life Prince, it wasn't something I could afford to get used to, even if I wanted to. Yeah. I definitely wanted to. Or, at least part of me
did. The part not thoroughly appalled by his reckless hedonistic tendencies, that was.

  Then he smiled. And I knew I was in trouble. It was that kind of smile that turned good girls bad. Really, bad.

  Where I did prim, Justine did improper. We were as different as two sisters could be. There was a hard limit to what I was willing to do for money. Any amount of money. And with Tina, well, the only question up for debate was how much money was at stake. Which is why she was where she was. Disgraced, and living back at home with little Lincoln.

  The kid was a wonder. Brilliant and funny and cute as anything. He was like a little magician with the tricks he'd managed to pull off. Stuff like, knowing exactly who was calling when the phone rang. Or knowing when his mother was lying about where she'd been. To my endless entertainment, he was forever calling her out on her lies of omission. Like when she claimed to be at a restaurant having Italian but failed to mention the Italian was actually a biker guy from Sicily. He had a gift. It hurt my heart that he'd never get to grow up knowing his grandfather, who would have found his talents as enchanting as I did. It also made my head spin to think that the gifts he possessed might not be as benign and innocent as we’d once thought. What if Lincoln was like me?

  I felt a flush of panic, and with it, the familiar need to hide. To crawl deep into a hole and remain unseen, hidden from the rest of the world…just in case. My magik was like a ticking time bomb that could detonate without warning at any moment. That terrified the hell out of me. And nothing in that book of spells had offered any answers so far. It wasn’t like I could sit and read it out in the open. I’d have to stick to middle-of-the-night reading, or the few times I could escape up to the library undetected. Thankfully there’d been no more fire messages.

  “Full transparency?” He moved to the door but didn’t open it for me. “That's not the only reason I want you there. It’s not.” I chewed my lip nervously. “There've been some rumors that the French Ambassador’s wife sees a psychic.”

  I didn’t respond.

  He scratched the back of his neck, watching me closely. “She may or may not be the real thing...but, I don't know. Maybe she could help, with—"

  Nodding my head, I finished his sentence, “Help with the crazy magik I've been cursed with.”

  He frowned. “Why see it as a curse?”

  “Pretty sure anything that coats you in some invisible person’s blood, isn't exactly a blessing.”

  His hand curved around the knob. “Maybe. Maybe not, but I think we need to figure out more before we make that decision, don’t you?”

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about how freely he used the word we. As if we were somehow in this together.

  “I supposed we could at least consider it,” I said. “I mean, it's Fair season and we're coming up to Samhain, the time of all things occult.” I forced a smile that I didn’t feel.

  He dipped his head toward me. “You'll be fine, Kat.”

  I nodded. Not convinced, but curious. “Okay. But we’ll have to be discreet.”

  “Don't worry, Kat. I've got this.” His warm smile slowly faded. “Tell me, have you had any more…” He scanned my face as he searched for the right word.

  “Visions?” I offered. “Not since…the last time.”

  He nodded, seeming lost in thought for a moment. It still unnerved me to know he knew this about me. I hated feeling vulnerable. At his mercy.

  “You know you’re safe with me, right?” He leaned in, his expression earnest. Controlled. Firm.

  I started to nod, yes, but instead said something else. “I know you wouldn’t say anything deliberately,” I started. “But, honestly, I should be anywhere but here, with a man who Instagrams his entire life for the whole world to view.”

  His lips quirked, then he strolled over to his night table and poured a glass of water, offering me one. I declined.

  “It’s a tactic.” He said, then took a mouthful. “If you throw them crumbs and create a carefully laid trail, then you can lead them anywhere you want them to go...and away from anything you don’t want them to see.”

  “But don't they, anyway? See it, I mean? It’s not like you planned all of those naked romps in the U.S. or...” I gave it some thought “...or did you? You know what, so not my business.” Because if he led the media to that, then I was too afraid to know what he was leading them away from. I started walking toward the door.

  “Don’t be a scaredy Kat. See what I did there?” he teased. “Seriously, though.” He angled his head. “Go on, ask me anything.”

  “Anything?” My body paused as questions swam to mind. How did you get your abs so hard? How many girls have you actually had sex with? And how is it every time you touch me, it feels like my insides are going to spontaneously combust?

  I cleared my throat, thinking about the vast amount of travelling he did. “So, how do you like being a prince?” Lamest question ever, and one I had read the answer to in countless interviews.

  He shook his head. “Still playing it safe. We'll have to work on that.” He leaned in suggestively. “I know there’s more you want to ask.”

  Sifting through the tangle of thoughts in my head, I searched to find what it was I really wanted to say. Why was he so derisive, and why did it feel like we were somehow connected? “You seem to know a lot about me.” That was an understatement. “More than you should. And, you seem to know precisely what to say to make me uncomfortable.”

  "You make it easy.” His teeth showed through his smile. “Like I said Kitkat…open book.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay, this little getting-to-know-you session was fun, but I have to find your sister. It’s time for her lessons.”

  “The French lessons, right. I need to get in on some of those, long term. I mean, beyond this evening’s party.”

  I smiled. “Well, I heard Dina has an opening.” Dina was a sturdy built sixty-year-old German ex-nun, who firmly believed in corporal punishment and the merits of a bone-crushing handshake.

  “Think I'll pass,” he said wryly. “Unless you're open.”

  “I am most definitely not,” I said quickly. The alarm on my watch vibrated. Saved. “Duty calls.” I bowed my head.

  The palace would soon be busier than usual, with the prep for the Queen’s Samhain Day of the Dead banquet in full swing.

  Ethan combed a hand over his hair and smiled. “You’re very conscientious, Kat.”

  Again, I’d considered that a positive attribute until now. But the way he said it, made it seem like a shortcoming.

  “See you this evening,” He opened the door for me.

  I stepped out into the hall, feeling super self-conscious and praying no one else was as nosey and judgmental as Hannah and I had been. I didn’t need rumors circulating about me coming out of one of the prince’s secret chambers first thing in the morning. But, Hannah had gone off, and near as I could tell, I was alone and unseen. Thank god.

  That’s when it hit me. Queen Zara’s words. The Prince is strictly off limits. Anyone caught fraternizing in a less than appropriate way will be dealt with. I used to think “dealt with” meant fired. But now, it’s meaning seemed far more ominous.

  CHAPTER 12

  Dinner with Ethan was an elegant, enchanting affair… or it might have been, if we’d managed to make it to dinner.

  I climbed out of the town car... the door held open for me by the prince’s personal chauffeur. The lemon taffeta gown Hannah had loaned me swished against my legs as I’d stepped out onto the sidewalk. I hurried up the path, eager to see Ethan, though my stomach was permanently settled in my throat. Absently I fiddled with my hair, then remembered the stern warning Hannah had given about fussing with it—and stopped. Okay. You can do this, Kat. I took a deep breath of the cool, fragrant, night air, and headed for the doors.

  To the left of me, a man decorated in formal attire, and draped with the French emblem sash across his torso, stepped out of a limousine. He had to be the leader of the French consulate, the one Ethan
was supposed to charm tonight. He swaggered toward me, a grin on his round, weathered face.

  I can do this, play the role of servant-slash-escort for the night. I flashed a bright smile in return as he approached. He seemed to be heading directly for me. He probably assumed Ethan would be with me since I’d gotten out of his car. He wasn’t, but his driver had assured me he was already here and waiting for my arrival.

  As I entered the gilded double doors of the exclusive estate, my hands trembled. I was so far out of my element I was afraid I might drown. But then I spotted Ethan’s face across the foyer. He smiled, and like a life preserver, he somehow made me feel everything was going to be all right.

  “You look amazing.” Ethan’s gaze coursed over me appreciatively.

  “Thanks.” I smiled. He looked breathtaking. But then again, he would. He was one of the country's ruling nobility. Beautiful, ruthless, lethal. I had to keep reminding myself of that. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Your Grace.”

  He gave a crooked smirk. “It’s Ethan, Kat, remember?”

  “We’re in public.” I nodded. Besides, I knew I’d never get used to that. It was strange enough just being here with him, on what felt like a date, but was anything but. Plus, there were all the bizarre happenings that seemed to vortex around us whenever we were together. It was unnerving, but I felt such relief we wouldn’t be discussing it at this event, which meant for a little while at least, I could forget it. “Were you able to get done what you needed to?” I asked.

  He dipped his head. “In a way, yes. I wanted to avoid drawing attention to you. If we’d arrived together, the press would have been all over it. Didn’t think you were prepared to go through that.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to thank him, when the less-than-charming friend Ethan had brought with him to the Donut Shoppe a few weeks ago, appeared at his side.

  He patted Ethan on the back, not noticing me at first…but then over-noticing me. He pointed in my direction. “Donut shoppe girl, right?”

  “Guilty as charged,” I said dryly, as his eyes roamed over me like I was the midnight buffet.