Blood Magic and Brandy, page 16
“Hungry?” she asked.
A hint of wickedness burned in his eyes, igniting a flame in her. It was as though they hadn’t spent the past hour satiating their lust.
“Yes, but first, how goes the investigation?”
Rane shook her head. “Not until you eat something.” He opened his mouth to protest. “We can talk while you eat.”
“Fine.” He bit out the word with all the pent-up frustration she’d expected. He would feel better with some food in his belly.
She watched appreciatively as he moved about the cottage gathering plates and utensils. Gone was the pretense he was weak. His hard muscles moved with deliberate ease, and she longed to run her hands over them again. As though he could sense her gaze upon him, Nevar looked over his shoulder and gave her a slow once over. She darted her eyes away, afraid of showing how much she wanted him.
He sat, his plate laden with two hand pies and some of the cheese. “I’m eating. Start talking.”
Rane sighed. “I haven’t had much of a chance to do anything. Father sent me to search for you to the west. I only returned last night. I wanted to see you.”
“How are we going to prove my innocence if you’re off hunting me?”
She ran her fingers through her hair, tugging a strand in frustration. “I’ll figure something out. Trust me. Perhaps I’ll invite the baroness on my next outing. She might share something with me I can use.”
Nevar winced. “Be careful. Jocelyn is shrewd. I knew she was devious but never imagined she would resort to murder. She’ll turn on you in a heartbeat if she suspects you know where I am. She’ll do anything to keep control of Otero.”
“Is she such a bad ruler?”
That was an inane question. Anyone who would put their own power ahead of another’s life wasn’t fit to rule. It was why, as much as she joked with her siblings about abdication, she wouldn’t. Bearing the burdens of rule was her fate, not theirs.
“It’s hard for me to tell,” he said carefully. “She has completely shut me out of all Oteran business. I don’t know how we make our money, how we pay our people, if our people are well cared for, the relationships at court, nothing.”
“What do you know?”
“Our family has plenty, and our guards and servants seem well-compensated for their labor, but since my father’s illness, it seems more and more of my people are hurting. I noticed some odd things on our trip here. When I traveled with my father as a boy, there were always some people who came out to greet the carriage, usually with a wave and a smile, sometimes a cheer. This trip, many of the villages we passed through were abandoned, and the people I saw looked hungry and tired. Beggars were frequent, and Jocelyn wouldn’t allow the guards to share our food with them. These aren’t the people of a prosperous barony.”
Rane poured him some wine to buy herself a bit of time to think. Nevar made appreciative noises.
“This is good. I didn’t know Lorea had good wine.”
“It’s Oteran.” She winked, and his belly laugh filled her with joy.
“Do you want some?” He held the mug out.
“It’s all yours. There’s plenty more where that came from.” A flash of sadness crossed his face at the reminder she’d be leaving soon.
“What’s the plan?”
“Keep everyone chasing their tails while I find something to prove Jocelyn’s guilt. I spent the last two days searching for you in the countryside surrounding the castle.”
“Why you?”
Rane bit her lip to keep from smiling. It wasn’t funny, not really.
“Let’s say when my parents decided I needed to step up to my duties as heir, I disagreed and became intimately familiar with all the hiding spots within a few miles of Avora.”
It was how she’d found all the ways out of the castle and city. It was also how she’d met the pixies and saved them from a hobgoblin.
Nevar’s bright smile made her feel seen. “But you’ve since accepted your role?”
A sour laugh escaped her lips. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. If I had, you’d be under lock and key right now.”
“For that, I am grateful.” He lifted his mug in salute and took another sip. “What happens when you don’t find me?”
She twisted her hair around a finger, wanting desperately to know the answer.
“I’m not sure. Perhaps wanted posters, communication with your king, more man hunts. We’ll definitely work with the baroness on the mineral rights agreement.”
“Which destroys my purpose for being here. A successful agreement was my way out from under her thumb. It would’ve shown I could conduct business on behalf of my father, my people, and the king. She’s really fucked me over.”
Rane held his hand. “I’ll slow it if I can. If we can find proof she murdered the guard, any agreement she made would be void. We can still salvage this.”
He snatched his hand away and stood. She hid her disappointment. It was nice holding his hand.
“How do you prove magic?”
“I don’t know. I was hoping you’d let me tell Bet and Ebon. No one can navigate the library like my brother, and Bet is acquainted with magic.”
“No, absolutely not. If Jocelyn finds out, my father and brother are as good as dead, and your siblings might join them. I won’t risk it.”
“Bet already knows something is up.”
“You promised not to tell.” His voice crackled with anger, and his fingers tightened around the mug. For a moment, she believed it would break.
“I didn’t tell,” Rane said evenly. “She guessed. My siblings aren’t stupid, and they could be helpful.”
Nevar sat stiffly on the edge of his chair. He ran a hand over his face and polished off the wine. Rane refilled the cup and rested a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t shrug it off, but he didn’t lean into her touch either. She jerked her hand away, but he grabbed it.
“I don’t want to endanger anyone else. Please, Rane. Don’t tell your siblings.”
Rane squeezed his hand. “I won’t, but I can’t promise they won’t figure it out on their own.”
He pressed his lips together. “If they do, tell them to let it go. It’s not worth their lives.”
“But it’s worth yours?” She would not allow Nevar to sacrifice himself on the altar of an oath. His life was as important as her siblings’.
“It’s my life, so it’s my call. Leave it be, Your Highness.”
“You’ve seen me naked, now. You can stop calling me Your Highness,” Rane teased, trying to bring the conversation out of the dark hole it had found.
“That’s probably not the best idea.”
“At least when it’s only us?”
Rane despised the pleading tone seeping into her words. None of her other lovers knew she was royalty. She was merely a person to them, not a princess. Nevar was special. With him, she felt equally both. Your Highness was as much of an endearment as her nickname coming from his lips, but she heard the first far more often from him.
“Hell. This is hell.” He squeezed her hand hard, and she squeezed back, offering whatever comfort she could.
“Do you have any idea what kind of magic she used? Or who she learned it from?”
“Apparently, I’m not the only credible actor in Otero. I have no idea. I suspected her of using poison, not magic. My stepmother is a beautiful, powerful woman. For all I know, she convinced the poor, besotted fool of a guard to kill himself without using magic at all.”
“There must be a way to trace magic buried in the library, but no one can trace poor, besotted fools.”
“You found me easily enough.” His shoulders released a little of the tension he’d held, and his lips quirked up at the corners.
Rane snorted. “You’re not a fool.”
Nevar pulled her into his lap. His lips hovered next to her ear.
“So, you think I’m besotted?”
The words sent a thrill through her. “I don’t know. Are you?”
He kissed her again, slow and deep, growing a fierce fire within. She wanted him again, as much as she ever had. More.
Nevar broke the kiss and held her eyes with his gaze. “Most definitely.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” squeaked a tiny voice.
Rane looked up. A shimmery ball of light floated in the doorway. The smallest pixie stared at them, a sly grin on her tiny face.
“Hi, Wren,” she said.
“Rane, it is good to see you.”
She glanced out the door. The shadows were long and the light golden. It was past time for her to leave. If she didn’t make it back for dinner, they’d send out a search party, defeating what few plans she held. Rane sighed and untangled herself from Nevar.
“Will you stay for dinner?” Wren asked.
“I have to go before I’m missed.” She picked up the saddlebags and walked out of the cottage, Nevar right behind. She threw the bags over her horse and turned toward him. “Keep a bag packed, if you can, and extra food. I will keep them as far from here as possible. If the search party gets too close, the pixies will know.”
Nevar pulled her close and kissed her gently.
“Be careful.” He brushed a curl away from her cheek.
“You as well.”
Rane swung herself on top of the horse.
“I still don’t understand why you’re doing all this for me,” he called out as she rode off.
“You’re not the only one who’s besotted.”
Chapter 18
Nevar leaned against the cottage and watched Rane leave. He was a wanted man who had slept with the Crown Princess of Lorea. Apparently, he had a death wish, indulging in matters of the heart instead of trying to find a way to fix the situation. Lives were on the line: his father’s, his brother’s, his own, and Rane’s. Yet, here he was, pining after the one thing he could never have.
A shimmery ball of light burst forth from the forest, pulling him out of his head. Lark landed next to him, a brace of partridges slung over a shoulder.
“You just missed Rane,” Nevar said.
“Ah, that explains the brooding.”
He snorted. Yes, he supposed it did.
“Did she have answers for you?” Lark continued.
“No. She hasn’t had a chance to search for answers, let alone find any.”
Though Rane seemed confident she could find evidence to exonerate him and implicate Jocelyn, his stepmother was smart. The question remained, was she too smart to get caught? Nevar’s gut told him yes. It had taken years for Nevar to suspect she’d poisoned his father, and he’d never guessed she dabbled in magic.
“Rane is driven toward justice. She will prove your innocence. I have seen how she looks at you.”
“What do you mean?”
“It is obvious how she feels. Do you not feel the same?”
It didn’t matter if he did. Even if Rane cleared his name, whatever was growing between them could never be more than an affair, no matter how good and true it seemed.
“I am a baron’s son accused of murder. There is no path forward for us.”
His father had taught him enough about royal politics. The heir to a throne couldn’t consider matters of the heart in marriage. The needs of the kingdom outweighed anything else. Though they were in negotiations over mineral rights, it was a minor matter. If suddenly Otero had something of extraordinary value to offer, possibly; but as things stood now, Lorea would gain nothing long-term from a union with Otero.
“When she clears your name, there might be.”
He pushed aside the flutter of elation at the thought. Even if his stepmother was no longer in the picture, someone had to run the barony. His father had been unable to for years, and Nevar didn’t know if Leon would ever recover. His brother was only thirteen. It would be years before Orom was properly trained to assume the role of Baron. Too many ifs.
“No, there isn’t. At best, I can be her lover.”
“Would that be so bad?”
Nevar let his mind continue down the rosy path. Should everything turn his way—he’d never wager on those long odds—would he carry on an illicit long-distance affair with the crown princess of another kingdom? The logistics would be nigh impossible.
He pressed his lips together. Perhaps if he didn’t have his own responsibilities at home, he could make a place for himself in her court, but he’d always be last on her list. First would come the kingdom, then her consort, and any children they may have. He would be left with crumbs of her time and attention. Could he live with that? Nevar shook his head.
“It wouldn’t be enough.”
The way Rane reacted to him was like nothing he’d experienced before. The mere memory of her firm muscles underneath silken skin and a buxom body set him afire. Nevar knew himself well. He wanted her in his bed every night, not on the rare occasions they could steal away from their duties. Against his better instincts, he wanted all of her, and he could never have that.
“Let us go inside, Nevar.” Red-gold light painted the clearing in eerie shadows. Lark’s wings vibrated faster than he could see, and little puffs of air tickled his neck. “It grows dark and strange creatures are afoot tonight.”
“Will you join me for a meal? Rane brought some food, and I don’t want to be alone.”
Lark followed him in. She dressed the birds while he set out mugs and plates.
“You have doubts about Rane.” She had made short work of plucking the birds, and the feathers lay in a neat pile by her feet.
“I do.”
“Perhaps you are curious how we came to owe Rane a debt.”
He smiled. “The question crossed my mind a time or two.” Or twenty.
“I will share the story. Not much will stop the princess when she is determined to do something.” Lark speared the birds onto a spit and lit the fire with a snap of her fingers. She turned the spit as she spoke. “Seven springs ago, a hobgoblin kept us prisoner here in the forest.”
“How does that happen?”
She chuckled wryly. “I will not give you the means to imprison us again, but it involved magic as much as manipulation. Gwid forced us to steal from those passing through the forest. We led humans into bogs and ponds and took their horses, then all their food while they slept. When they would search for things to eat, all they found was poison. Many died, but we were powerless to stop it.”
Nevar had never considered a fairy could be powerless. After all, they had magic, and magic was a powerful force in the world. Though having one kind of power did not always mean one couldn’t feel powerless. He’d spent the last few years feeling powerless in his own home.
“I am sorry that happened to you.”
Lark shrugged. “It was our past. Our present is much better because a young princess wandered into our forest.”
He grinned at the picture of a fierce fourteen-year-old Rane marching through the trees as if she belonged, no matter what strange creatures roamed through the underbrush.
“We did not know she was a princess,” Lark said with an answering smile. He hadn’t known she was a princess either the first time they met. “Her clothes were plain, and she carried nothing of value with her, only a small bag with food, a slingshot, and a hunting knife. Yet our captor insisted on taking what she had and luring her into the swamp.”
“Why?”
“Gwid was not one for explaining his reasoning to mere pixies. I never understood why he chose to steal from some and kill others. Rane turned out to be lucky. We approached her under cover of darkness, but Bash was at her side. The hound kept her safe, though my sisters stole her food and hunting equipment. She tracked us back to the cave. The hobgoblin was out, and she asked why we’d taken her things.”
The princess had a history of treating people with compassion, even those who wronged her. She put justice over the law, even for those outside her jurisdiction. Rane may not believe it, may not want it, but she would make a fine queen someday.
“We told her, and she became angry. We did not understand she was angry for us, not at us. When the hobgoblin was angry, he hurt us, but Rane promised she would free us. She found a sword in the hoard Gwid kept and lay in wait for him. He returned near sunset but could tell something was amiss. Realizing she’d lost the element of surprise, Rane faced him anyway. It was a vicious fight. Perhaps you noticed a scar on her hip?”
The innocent expression Lark wore said she’d surmised they’d slept together. He brushed aside his embarrassment. She wouldn’t tell anyone. He gave her no answer, and she continued her story.
“She won with a swift strike to his heart. His death broke the magical bond tethering us to him, and we were free. He’d killed our mother and several of our sisters. We brought her here, an old woodcutter’s cottage long abandoned, and tended to her wounds.”
The mouth-watering smell of roasting poultry filled the cottage. Nevar sliced the bread and broke off a couple of bits of cheese. He added two of the red apples to their plates.
Lark continued the story as they waited for the partridges to finish cooking. Without the magical protection of the hobgoblin, another dark denizen of the forest was likely to capture or kill the motherless pixies. Rane wrote a letter to the Queens of Faerie, petitioning them to employ the sisters into their service. Amused by the princess’s audacity at the tender age of fourteen, they made the sisters guardians of the Argent Forest, answerable only to the Queens.
In return, the Sisters protected the trees and animals from human poachers. They escorted human parties through the forest, keeping them safe from the darker inhabitants. They helped lost humans, guiding them back to the road or giving them sanctuary at the cottage if injured or sick. From time to time, they spied on those who wished the Queens harm, be they fairies or human. Guides, medics, and spies, the Seven Sisters kept busy making up for their years helping the hobgoblin.
He understood, finally, why they loved Rane. She’d saved their lives and given them purpose. They owed her a debt they could never repay. If she told them to keep him safe, it was what they’d do, no matter the cost to themselves.
