Claiming the Prince: Book One (50 page)

K
AELAN CAUGHT HER ELBOW
as she moved through the crowd, not stopping to converse with those who attempted to catch her eye.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” he murmured.

“Most definitely not,” she said.

Those that remained between her and Lavana stepped aside, as if inviting the confrontation, hiding their mouths behind their goblets as they whispered to one another.

Lavana turned to face Magda as the path between them cleared. Riker paled, brow pinching. Lavana pushed aside the trailing hem of her cloak and smiled like a cat inviting a mouse in for tea.

“Dearest coz,” she purred. “How gracious of you to make your way to greet me.”

Magda slid her arm from Kaelan’s grip, biting back the accusation and the question foremost on her mind.

Did you steal the Enneahedron? Where is it?

She struggled to smile. “How are you, sweet coz?”

Riker opened his mouth as if to speak, but Lavana threw her hand up against his chest, halting him.

“Quite well,” Lavana said. “Do you like my new belt?”

She gestured to her waist.

There, mounted on a wide strip of Pixie-cloth, was Magda’s ghast blade.

Magda drew inward, refusing to react. The Rae in her, though, raged. Lavana wore it as a trophy, as if she hadn’t been bested that day in Ouda’s hollow. And it reflected poorly on Magda. To lose her blade to a rival, whatever the circumstance…

“How is your hand?” she asked.

Lavana’s eyes narrowed, though her mouth remained fixed in a smile. “Never better.”

“Oh, good,” she said. “And our mutual friend, have you seen him lately?”

Lavana’s head tilted. “Which friend are you referring to? The one who passed away? I’ve heard tales of his death, poisoned by a manticore? That must’ve been quite painful. How tragic.” Her gaze skated over to Kaelan. “You do have an incredible knack for uncovering Princes. I admit, I had to acquire some rare magic to find Kaelan and what a disappointment he turned out to be.”

Magda could feel Kaelan tense, but fortunately, he kept his mouth shut.

“So good to see that you are in fact, alive, Caden,” Lavana went on silkenly, “after all of these years.”

He crossed his arms. “I’m sorry. Have we met before?”

Lavana’s lips puckered. “More than once.”

“Oh, yes, when?”

“You don’t recall?” she asked as though she were about to pounce on him.

“Wait a moment,” he said, plucking at his nose. “Were you that squalling brat at Margot’s wedding reception? Didn’t a brownie have to subdue you with a sleeping draught because you wouldn’t stop screaming after you had spilled soup on your dress? That was you, wasn’t it?”

Lavana’s nostrils flared. Crimson dashes marked her cheeks like she’d been slapped.

“And you, Riker?” Magda strained to put on her forlorn lover’s façade. But how could she when panic was bashing about in her chest like a bat caught in a box? The Enneahedron was gone. If she didn’t get it back . . . she was so screwed. “How are you?”

“He’s fine,” Lavana cut in. “I prefer that you didn’t speak to him.”

Riker, already well-trained, pressed his lips together, eyes darting worriedly between her and Lavana.

“Why not? He’s claimed, isn’t he?” she said. “You can’t be worried I might steal him away from you?”

“I’m not worried,” Lavana said.

“Well, I would be,” she said. “If you were the one who had the Prince
and
the Enneahedron, I admit, I might not even vie at all.”

A split second of strain tightened Lavana’s face—anxiety—but was gone almost as soon as it had come.

Lavana
was
worried. But if she’d taken the Enneahedron, she wouldn’t have any reason to be.

“But of course,” Magda added quickly, “you’ve already declared your intent to vie. And to retract now . . . better to go into exile than bear that shame. Lovely to see the both of you.”

She gave Riker one last look, hoping it appeared longing, though she struggled to pretend that she felt anything but pity and guilt. Riker’s face twisted in apparent doubt. Lavana’s darkened with rage as she swept around and stalked back into the crowd. Riker gave Magda a tight smile and followed after Lavana.

Kaelan closed in, his hand on her neck, mouth against her face as though he were going to kiss her. “She doesn’t have it.”

“I know,” she whispered, scanning the crowd. “But who does?”

His breath skimmed over the thin skin behind her ear, lips grazing. A warm prickle trailed down her spine. She placed her hand to his chest to push him away, but he caught her hand and her waist, branding her neck with a searing kiss that left her breathless. Heat flooded her chest. He certainly knew how to play the part of the earnest lover.

His mouth moved against her ear. “Riker looked as though he had something he wanted to say to you.”

She pushed through the tingling haze he’d cast over her. “I doubt he knows anything.”

“Then who?” he asked, teeth scraping her jawline.

“Hero hasn’t returned yet. Please find him,” she murmured and gave him a firm push back, casting one last look in Riker’s direction, attempting to make herself appear wistful. But the ruse was difficult and she wasn’t sure it mattered at this point. If she didn’t have the Enneahedron, then the fact that she had an unclaimed Prince, no matter the reason, wouldn’t make a difference. She’d have to fight Lavana.

Kaelan followed her gaze.

“Careful,” he said. “You’ll make me jealous.”

She moved in closer, smiling at him so everyone watching could see. “How boring.”

She turned. The crowd parted, but not for her.

A young girl with hair braided severely to her scalp, wearing a powder-blue short coat with gold twisting orchids embroidered on the breast, rushed towards her.

A few feet away, the messenger stopped, lifted her chin, and said, “Greetings from the Crown, Magdalena of the Eastern Cliffs. Your request for an audience has been accepted. Please appear at your family’s gate at ten tomorrow morning.” She bowed, then turned and strode away on quick, long legs.

Magda did her best to keep her face neutral, but inside, she was panicking.

It was already past midnight. How was she supposed to find the Enneahedron before ten in the morning? And it wasn’t as though she go could tromping around, turning out pockets.

She swept around. Kaelan had vanished into the crowd somewhere, which was dangerous considering there were a handful of underage, unattached Raes present, but at this point, it was the least of her concerns.

“You will excuse me,” she said to the nearest elders. “I have preparations to make before I meet with the Crown. Thank you all for your attendance.”

She inclined her head towards them, and then, without waiting for a response, rushed back to the house.

Honey lay on a sofa in Flor’s sitting room on the second floor.

“I don’t know what happened,” she said again.

“Ask Cae, maybe he knows,” Magda snapped.

Flor scowled at her from where she was perched at Honey’s side. “What is wrong with you?”

She bit her lip and turned her shoulder to them, staring at the painting of some ancestor poised dramatically on the edge of the cliffs, her black hair blowing in the wind like a tattered flag.

“I’m sorry your pet turned feral on you,” Flor said coldly, “but what did you expect?”

Someone knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” Flor barked.

“Me,” Kaelan said.

Magda hurried to open the door. He stood in the dimly lit hall, his face grave. Behind him, Damion lurked.

Kaelan had removed his coat, holding it bunched in his arms.

Her heart lurched.

Limp in the fabric was a black ball of fur, Hero. He was motionless.

“He’s alive,” Kaelan murmured. “Just.”

Flor came up behind Magda, wrenching the door open wider. “What are you doing bringing that beast into this house?”

Magda moved out into the hall, forcing Kaelan and Damion to back up. “We’ll leave you now. Good evening.”

“Don’t you dare heal that creature!” Flor called after them as Magda led Kaelan and Damion up the stairs.

Once in Magda’s room, Damion shut the door.

Kaelan laid Hero on the bed. Magda knelt next to him, running her fingers over his head, pleading with him to wake up.

But he didn’t respond.

“Can you heal him?” she asked Kaelan.

His gaze fell to the floor. “I tried.”

She rested her head on the bed next to Hero.

“Why did you do it, little Hero?” she whispered. “You heard something, didn’t you?”

“I can leave you . . .” Damion said.

“No,” she said, lifting her head, wiping the tears. She pushed up to her feet, hands open as she approached him.

He sighed wearily and submitted to her touch.

She kept it brief, sharing only that moment when she’d realized the Enneahedron was missing.

Damion’s hands fisted at his sides. “We have to tell—”

“No. We tell no one,” she said. “I want you to go back, check on Honey,” she said, stepping back from him, raising her eyebrow significantly.

Damion frowned. “You don’t think—”

“She landed right on top of me.”

“But why—?”

“It could’ve been anyone,” Kaelan said, sitting on the end of the bed next to Hero. “Zuriel. He had his hands all over you.”

“There were others too, when we fell,” she said.

“Damn it!” Damion spun, looking about as if wanting to hit something. “You can’t go before the Crown—”

“I will,” she cut in. “I have to.”

“But—”

“It’s too late. If I don’t appear now, after everything, I’ll be lucky to make it back to the human world. And I’m not convinced Lavana wouldn’t hunt me down anyway. I’m sure she’d like to have the rest of my daggers mounted on her belt.”

“How could this have happened?” Damion said. “You really think Honey—?”

“I don’t know what to think. Go back downstairs and see what you can find out.”

“What do you want me to do? Search her?”

“Give her a very thorough hug,” Magda said. “Make a pass at her if you have to, I don’t care. I can’t leave the house. Even if I could . . . what am I to do? Go knocking on everyone’s doors?”

Damion nodded and then headed for the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob.

“I’m sorry about your friend, Magda.”

When he was gone, she sank down on the other side of Hero, but her gaze was on Kaelan.

“Call your friend.”

A scrunched expression of confusion wrinkled his face. “My . . .” His eyes opened wider. “Here?”

“Yes. Do it now.”

He licked his lips and then let out a short series of whistles. She brushed her thumb over Hero’s forehead.

Please wake up, little Hero.

He didn’t stir.

The air shifted, as though someone had cracked a window and let in a draft.

In a flash, she released her daggers. She slammed Kirk against the hearth, pinning him between her thin ironwood blade and the deadly curve of the mermaid.

His arms splayed out against the stone, her daggers grazing his neck. His eyes rounded.

“What—?”

“I’m sure you thought I was too slow these days to move faster than a brownie,” she said. “But I think I’m getting my prowess back. What do you think?”

“I think you are a fool to call me here,” he said, holding his chin away from the ironwood, but the mermaid shone sharp and deadly on the other side of his neck. All she had to do was twitch and his head would come off.

“Or are you the fool to come when called?” she asked. “Are we being listened to?”

“Not any longer,” he said, gulping. “What do you want?”

Despite his claim they were no longer being eavesdropped upon, she chose her words with care. “You took something from me once. Do you know where it is now?”

“Something? I don’t under—” His eyes bulged with comprehension. “You mean you don’t have it?”

“Can you help me discover who does?” she asked.

“Why should I?”

“Your cause has a stake in this, do they not?”

“Are you saying that you share our interests?”

“No,” she said. “But I may be more receptive than others. If you help me, I won’t forget. I may even forgive your earlier betrayal.”