The Outcast Prince (8 page)

Caspian walked into his kitchen. His house was empty. After the warmth and heady history of Lydia’s house, his home seemed even worse—just a box of brick and mortar.

For the first time since his divorce, he felt truly alone. It wasn’t the Brownies he missed, or even Dylis. It was the simple pleasure of coming home to someone. Of having someone to care about. He’d walked away from that and never looked back, but Lydia had pulled the blinders off and now he was forced to look at what his life had become. He spent more time with echoes of the past than he did with real people. He hadn’t been on a date in eight months. The three dates he’d been on hadn’t gone anywhere because the whole time he’d been thinking of the lies he’d have to tell and the things he might see about them, even if he didn’t want to. He sighed and fiddled with the broken tea set. The contents hadn’t been touched. If he were a Brownie, he wouldn’t have touched it either.

He shouldn’t have kissed Lydia.

He wanted to kiss her again.

He imagined he could still taste her on his lips, and feel the heat of her body pressed to his. The curve of her hip under his hand and the way her body had shifted closer as the kiss had deepened. After that moment the rest of the evening had been off-kilter. Not awkward, but not comfortable.

Then she’d asked him to stay. Even now he could feel the lingering heat in his blood. It had taken everything he had in him to walk out that door. He craved her touch. But whatever was going on between them, it was a bad idea to act upon it. Not with his heritage. Not if there was a Grey lurking about. He leaned against the kitchen counter and closed his eyes.

Still, there was no doubt his dreams tonight would be full of Lydia.

Something in the air shifted around him and Caspian knew he was no longer alone in the house. He recognized the heady perfume of Court. He cracked open his eyes and saw Dylis; she was what he guessed was her natural height for a change. She had also managed to layer several items of clothing on varying shades of blue to produce an outfit that a fashion designer would be proud of. The longer he looked the more he thought she was wearing enough clothes for three days.

“What are you doing?” she asked him.

“Thinking.” Like it mattered to her.

Dylis placed a box on the kitchen counter.

He was tempted to ask about it but decided that he probably wouldn’t like the answer. That she came from Court bearing gifts put him on edge.

“Aren’t you curious?” She kicked his foot.

“About the box or what you found out about the Window?”

She grinned and bobbed down next to him. “Both.”

“Tell me about the Window.” But his gaze slid to the box she’d carried in. It came from Annwyn; he could feel the shimmer of magic from here.

Dylis tapped the glass oven door and an image formed of two polished copper mirrors. Oval hand mirrors—the kind one expected an evil queen to hold as she asked who was the fairest in the land.

Gooseflesh rose down Caspian’s arms. He was rapidly coming to dislike mirrors of any type. “What am I looking at?”

“This is the last known appearance of the Window and Counter-Window.”

“Why are there two?”

“Together they are a portal to Annwyn. The Counter-Window is somewhere in Annwyn, and the Window is here… we think.”

“How could something so valuable be lost in the mortal world?” He should be in bed dreaming of Lydia, not standing in the kitchen talking about fairy-made mirrors.

Dylis gave him a look that had lost its power around the time he’d turned eighteen. “Things get exchanged, misplaced, and forgotten about. You mortals die so fast it’s hard to keep track of where things go. Plus it can’t be tracked by those with fairy blood.”

“So I can’t find it anyway.” What had she been hoping, that he’d trip over it and realize what it was?

“You will be able to recognize it when you touch it. It’s why Shea came to you and not another changeling. It’s why I asked you to keep an eye out.”

“And I was thinking it was because of my father.”

“Ah, no. Most don’t know who your father is. Trust me when I say that’s the way you want to keep it.”

He’d take her word on that. “Why not destroy the Counter-Window and prevent him from getting through?”

Dylis raised her eyebrows as if he’d just suggested she chew iron filings. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to make something this powerful? The Court would rather it be returned.”

Of course they would because they wouldn’t be inconvenienced by the search. He would be. “There can’t be too many hand mirrors this old lying around. It’s probably in a museum.”

“No one has seen it for five hundred years. And no one has heard of it in a century. It’s probably changed shape a dozen times.” Dylis gave a shrug and the image vanished, leaving Caspian staring at himself in the dark glass of the oven, a frown creasing his forehead.

“It changes shape?” Whoever made the portal had gone to a lot of trouble to keep it from falling into the wrong hands.

“I told you that.” She crossed her arms. “You don’t seem to understand the implications. If Shea uses the Window to get back to Annwyn, the war he starts will cause ripples on the river so big that an outbreak of smallpox will look like a sneeze.”

“So how am I supposed to find a mirror that can’t be traced and changes shape?”

“I don’t know.”

Caspian’s jaw worked. While usually he didn’t discuss his work or his lack of dating with Dylis, Callaway House might be important. He pulled out his camera and scrolled through the pictures he’d taken that evening, stopping on the one of the fairy man. He’d zoomed in and got one of just that picture. “Do you know who he is?”

Dylis frowned. “Where did you get this?”

“I’m doing a valuation at Callaway House. His picture was up on the wall.” He paused, but knew he should tell her about the “ghost.” “I think there’s also a Grey in the house.”

“He is definitely not a Grey.”

“You can tell that from a picture?” Caspian looked at the picture again, but still couldn’t pick it.

She looked at him like he was an idiot. “Of course I can. Why is a Grey at the house? Did it follow you?”

“No, according to Lydia it’s always been there. She thinks it’s a ghost.”

“Greys don’t live forever. Are you sure it wasn’t just mice?”

Caspian rolled his eyes. “I know what fairy footsteps sound like. Plus, Greys make me…” there was something about them that warned him they were near, “tingle.” And not in a good way.

“Interesting.” She took the camera and looked at it again. “Musician?”

The look on her face was far too calculated. “What?”

“Just… the last name connected with the Window was Riobard; he was a Court minstrel who stole some things and left, never to be seen again.”

Until now. Cold snaked down his spine. If Riobard was the man in the picture, then the Window could be at Callaway House. It could be why the ghost was there but unable to find it.

“If a fairy touched the Window, would they know what it was?”

“It’s a secret portal; you have to know how to activate it.”

“So even if a Grey found it, without knowing it was the Window it would be useless.”

Dylis nodded. “You can see why it’s so valuable.”

Oh, he did. He also knew why Shea had come to him, and why the ghost was constantly searching. Without knowing how to activate the Window it was just another mirror. But Shea would know how to use it. Suddenly finding it before Shea did became a whole lot more important. At the moment only he and Dylis knew it was most likely at Callaway House. But if Shea realized it, Lydia could be in danger.

Dylis looked at him, and he knew she’d been thinking the same thing. “You have to get back there and find it.”

Finding the Window was going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack, even for him. Callaway House was filled with stuff, then there was the stable and the cabins, and so many places to hide something. For all he knew it was buried, or in the roof. “I need the Counter-Window.” It would be his best chance to find it.

He took a breath as he realized what he was doing. Like any fairy he was getting drawn into the twisty world of fairy politics and finding it exciting. No, he was doing it for Lydia. Having a Grey in the house and having something that valuable and dangerous in her possession wasn’t good. She knew nothing of fairies and could be tricked into all kinds of trouble.

“I’m working on it. In the meantime, keep looking; we have to find it first.” She tapped the box she’d brought with her. “I spoke with your father about Shea. This is from him.”

“No, no. I won’t be sucked into accepting gifts. You can take it back.” Caspian’s gaze flicked between the box and Dylis.

“It’s from your
father
.” She shrunk down to her usual ten inches to conserve power then leaned an elbow on the box “I can’t take it back.”

The box smelled exotic. Sandalwood. It had been delicately carved so the flowers on the sides looked like they were swaying in the breeze. He narrowed his eyes—were they swaying? He reached out his hand to touch the wood and find out, but stopped millimeters from the surface. He blinked and broke the spell the box was weaving.

“What’s inside?”

“I don’t know. It’s a gift.”

“What’s it for?” If she’d expected him to be delighted his father had acknowledged him, she was wrong. His father had never shown any interest in his life, or even in getting to know him. Biology didn’t mean squat.

“I don’t know, he didn’t say.”

In thirty-five years his father had never sent a gift, yet one mirror needed to be found and one banished fairy lord appeared on Caspian’s doorstep and suddenly presents arrived. He was as suspicious as he was tempted. He wanted to know what was inside. Even though he hated his fairy blood, particularly at the moment, he still wanted to meet his father and ask all the questions he’d had growing up—even if he didn’t like the answers. As a child he’d always felt that somehow he must be unworthy of Annwyn since his father was the Prince and didn’t want him. Felan hadn’t even waited for him to be born before casting him off. His mother had said the last time she’d seen Felan she’d been five months pregnant. Just talking about Felan had upset her. Another reason to hate the Prince.

Bloody fairies thinking they could walk in and use humans for whatever they wanted and leave without a second glance.

“You open it,” he said to Dylis. She wasn’t here because she liked him. She was here because Felan ordered her to be here. His father thought highly enough of his changeling son to provide a bodyguard and fairy tutor. For that Caspian had to be grateful. Love him or hate him, they would always be tied by blood and Annwyn.

She rolled her eyes and muttered something that could’ve been about damned souls and rivers, which Caspian chose to ignore.

“You are more like your father every day,” she snapped.

Dylis grunted, flicked the catch, and pushed back the lid. She gave a whistle, then glanced at Caspian. “He raided the armory and placed a strategic land mine.”

The warning tingle became a tightening of his gut. Despite his better judgment, Caspian leaned over and took a look inside the box. Cradled on a bed of the most delicate green velvet he’d ever seen was a silver tea set. But it wasn’t plain silver—that would’ve been far too simple. Chips of gems were woven into delicate knots that looped around each cup and saucer. The knob on the top of the teapot lid was an emerald the size of a small grape.

Out of habit Caspian immediately tried to place a value on the gift. While he could price the metal and gems, he couldn’t begin to cost the craftsmanship. There was nothing like this in the human world.

He swallowed and reached out his hand, knowing it could be a trick and he’d wind up trapped inside or worse. But his father hadn’t charged Dylis with his care only to do him harm now. Beneath his fingertips the box was warm as if it had been resting in the sun.

Felan
smiled
as
he
held
the
box, but under the admiration of the work was worry. The tightness around his eyes gave it away. He closed the box and nodded, then he seemed to look directly at Caspian. “Enjoy the gift, son.”

Caspian broke the contact and stepped back. They were the first words he’d ever heard his father say. He curled his fingers by his side to stop himself from reaching out just to hear it again.

“Anything?” Dylis leaned forward.

“No. Just Felan holding the box,” he lied. He looked at the beautiful tea set; it was obviously meant for his Brownies. “I suppose I should set it up.”

For once Dylis said nothing.

Caspian carefully pulled out each piece. The warm metal gave him no impressions of whoever had handled it before Felan. It was odd—there was always a residual something. As he went through the motions of filling the sugar bowl and milk jug, then brewing fresh tea, the silver seemed to glow with life. There was magic in the set. More magic than he liked having around.

“What’s it doing?”

“Protecting the house. Shea won’t get back in.”

“Is that all it’s doing?”

“I think so.” Dylis walked around the setting as if trying to unlock the secrets of the glowing tea set.

His life was too weird. He could just imagine inviting Lydia over and trying to explain that.
This
is
my
tea
set. Why yes, they are real rubies and sapphires, and that’s a magic glow, not a radioactive one.

He rubbed his hand over his eyes. It was too late to be dealing with more fairy crap. He climbed the stairs, ready to give in to the exhaustion and sleep. He was stopped at his bedroom door. A silver dagger with a jeweled hilt had been driven through the wood. Shea had been there. And the message was clear: He wanted the Window, and Caspian was running out of time to find it.

Last night’s fairy drama seemed so far away. If not for the dagger now on his bedside table and the silver tea set in the kitchen, he could have dreamed it. He showered, his thoughts already on Callaway House and Lydia, and he couldn’t stop the smile from forming. It was beginning to feel like a good day. As he dried he tried not to think of the ways it could all go wrong, or that he was going to have to find a way to tell her about his gift.

But he had all day to work that out—that he was actually considering ways to tell her didn’t even make him pause.

He opened his wardrobe. None of his clothes were hanging up, none of his clothes were in the wardrobe, instead there was a very large pile of unraveled threads.

He touched the threads and saw Shea.

“How is that possible?” He wrapped the towel back around his waist and glanced around his room half-expecting Shea to be standing in the corner laughing. But he was alone. He opened up his drawers, but everything there was a tangle of strings. Right. He had no clothes. The familiar twitch that only dealing with fairies caused was back.

This was an annoyance, nothing more. And yet it was far more intimate than a dagger through the door. Shea had been in his room and through his things. He suppressed a shudder and tried to be calm. It was only clothes, and if that was the best Shea could do there wasn’t anything to worry about.

His gaze landed on yesterday’s clothes on the floor where he’d left them before going to bed. Good thing it was jeans and a shirt instead of sweaty running clothes. But he was willing to bet that everything in the laundry basket was still as it should be. Brownies didn’t do laundry, and he didn’t mind. It gave him a semblance of normality that most people would trade in a heartbeat. There was at least a few days’ worth of clothing waiting to be cleaned. None of which he could pack into an overnight bag for his stay at Lydia’s.

Dressed in yesterday’s castoffs he jogged down the stairs and checked in the laundry. His suspicions were confirmed.

“Screw you, Shea,” he muttered as he stuffed the darks into the machine and got them going. A fairy lord wouldn’t think of laundry; he’d be used to his clothes getting sorted out by servants.

“Why are you cursing him?” Dylis leaned against the door frame, arms crossed.

“Go look in my closet.”

Caspian turned, but she was already gone.

Her high-pitched laughter tinkled through the house like the annoying little bells people put on cat collars.

“Oh my, that is the oldest trick known to fairies.” Dylis was still grinning.

“I will have to buy new things right away.” Before he went to Lydia’s, as he couldn’t show up in yesterday’s clothes and with nothing clean to put on. He inhaled and forced it out slowly. He didn’t need this extra fairy bullshit in his life.

“It’s still funny, and it could’ve been so much worse. He could’ve done a wear and unravel spell, so you’d be left standing naked in town.” She started giggling again.

Caspian gave a snort that almost turned into a laugh. “Point taken.”

“It’ll be fine.” She nodded and smiled. Dylis never said anything would be fine, and her smile was now a little too forced. “You can’t stop living just because he could be waiting; if you do he’s already taken control and that’s what he wants. He wants to make your life so unbearable you agree to whatever deal he offers. Do not let him make the deal. If you have to, you make the deal, you set the terms.”

“If I make a deal with a Grey, and word gets back to Court, I’m screwed.”

Dylis pressed her lips together but had nothing to say.

Great, just great.
He needed to find the damn Window and hand it over to the Court before Shea could do any more damage to his life.

But he didn’t see Shea all day. Or any Grey, not even a little one. He collected the new glass for the ex-enchanted mirror, fixed it up, and hung it on display. Got through a pile of paperwork and managed to firm up a few prices on some of Madam Callaway’s furniture. He emailed an acquaintance about the books, as he didn’t usually deal with them. As well as picking up some new clothes. Nothing fancy, just the basics, and he wasn’t even sure he’d be needing the new pajama pants. He didn’t want to be using them. But she might have changed her mind in daylight.

He glanced at Dylis lying on a sideboard, arm over her eyes like she was bored out of her walnut-sized head. She’d be dismayed that he’d broken the enchanted mirror and had seemed almost disappointed by the lack of Grey action.

“Give me five minutes to close up and you can come to Lydia’s.” He hoped he sounded more enthused about that than he felt. At least with Dylis if he was followed by Greys, there would be a measure of protection, plus she could find out more about Lydia’s ghost.

That got her moving. She peeled herself up with more grace than anyone he’d ever seen, as if gravity released her for a moment and she floated to standing. “Can’t wait to see what
I
find in the house.”

Caspian ignored her and set about closing up the shop. When he was ready to leave, Dylis swung onto his arm and held onto his shirtsleeve as he went out the back to where his car was parked. As soon as he crossed the threshold of the shop he knew something wasn’t right.

“Do you hear that?”

“A humming?” Dylis climbed higher and stood on his shoulder.

He didn’t worry about compensating for her; she’d never once fallen off—even when he’d gone through a phase of riding a motorbike in his twenties. Her balance was unnatural.

“It’s not fairy-related. And yet…” She stopped, no doubt because she’d just spotted his car, like he had.

The car was humming. Vibrating. Swarming might have been a better description. The inside of his car was full of black-and-yellow-striped insects. He hoped they were bees and not wasps. But even then he wasn’t game enough to walk over, open a door, and let them out.

Dylis jumped down and walked over. Caspian took a step back. He wasn’t allergic to bees, but they didn’t seem like happy bees and he was pretty sure that a thousand stings would be fatal.

“Don’t open the car.”

“I wasn’t born last century.” She bounced onto the hood as if she were taking a single step and peered through the windscreen.

“He’s really gone all out this time. There’s a whole hive in there.”

“If he thinks this is going to work, he’s wrong.” He spun, looking for the Grey, as if he could be hiding in any shadow. He had to be nearby. “Hear that, Shea—I will not be bullied by you.” He’d been bullied by human children at school and he wasn’t going to be press-ganged into finding a very dangerous artifact for the Grey.

Caspian pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called a cab while his car shook with fury. Shea had done that while he’d been in the shop only yards away and neither Dylis nor he had noticed. Was he getting bolder? What would the next escalation be? He glanced through the shop window and swallowed. While his house might be protected, nothing else was. And Shea had proved he was willing to get close. There was nothing stopping Shea from slowly pulling apart his life the way he had done his clothes.

He couldn’t lose everything again. He’d worked too hard to get this far. There was only one way to stop the damage. Find the Window.

***

Lydia heard the car pull up and was at the front door ready to greet Caspian before he knocked. She’d gotten changed after work and had spent a bit of time bringing some of the things out of the stable, now used for storage. There was a lawnmower in there that looked like it hadn’t been used in fifty years. But there were also trunks of things that were too heavy for her to lift. It was like Gran had packed up but had never bothered to sort out. The good news was that Caspian would have to keep coming around for a while.

Seeing him was like a break from her real life. A slice of sunshine through stormy clouds. She needed more sunlight in her life.

Caspian walked up the path to her doorstep. “Hi.”

“Hi.” His gaze slid over her without pausing on any part, but no doubt noticing the dust smudged all over her clothing. “You started without me?”

“I’ve been unpacking the stable.” In the corner of her eyes something moved; she glanced over but there was nothing there. Odd, she thought she’d heard something.

Caspian turned his head and she thought she saw him flinch, but then he turned back to face her. “Let’s go in.”

A breeze blew a piece of paper down the street and a chill followed. She suppressed a shiver and stepped back. Caspian shut the door after himself and turned the lock. He was security conscious… of course he was; he dealt in antiques and things worth thousands of dollars.

“Did I see a cab pulling away?” She raised one eyebrow.

“My car was making an odd humming sound. I didn’t want to risk breaking down.”

“It does look like a storm is coming.” She glanced at him and smiled. “Good thing you’re staying.” That he’d turned up with his laptop and an overnight bag was enough to confirm he was sleeping over tonight. In which bed was the real question.

She hadn’t been able to get his kiss out of her head. It had been enough to feed her dreams and make her realize it had been too long between boyfriends. Her body bubbled with expectation, lust coiled in her belly.

Caspian nodded and placed his bag and laptop satchel by the wrought-iron hat stand. “Or did you want me to put it in a room?”

“That’s fine for the moment. We can sort out the rest later.” Why was she so nervous?

“Good idea.” He seemed to relax a little. Maybe this was just as odd for him—which was reassuring. If he’d sauntered in confident of his place, she might have changed her mind.

“Before you set up, can you help me get to some of the trunks in the stable? It might save us some time if they are just full of linen.”

“Sure. Then I’ll do the bedrooms?”

She nodded and tried to ignore the heat creeping over her skin.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.” She pushed her hair back. “When I invited you to stay I didn’t know if I was inviting you to stay or
sleep
.”

“That’s okay; I wasn’t sure which I wanted.”

More like he knew what he wanted but wasn’t sure if he wanted to go after it. She’d seen the desire in his eyes and felt the heat of his kiss, but she didn’t want to be pushing when he was hesitant.

“And now?”

“I still don’t know.” His fingers brushed her cheek. “But not because I don’t want you, because I do, but because it’s spectacularly bad timing and…” His thumb touched her lip.

For a moment she thought he was going to mention his ex. She held her breath, not wanting to be rebound-girl or cast in the exes shadow.

“It’s fast.”

“This is our third date.” Third meeting was probably more appropriate, but she’d had worse dates. Besides, they were talking and doing the other stuff that happened on dates—today was just as awkward as any
should-we?
type conversation she’d ever had on a date.

He smiled. “True, although we haven’t had dinner out yet.”

“Is that one of your rules?”

“I don’t know anymore.” He paused. “Maybe following the rules isn’t always the best thing to do.” Then he kissed her. Slowly at first as if testing to see if the spark was still there waiting to be fanned.

It was. Heat filled her blood and spread throughout her body. Lust consumed her and for a moment she wanted to forget the work that needed doing and just go upstairs. He pulled away almost reluctantly.

“Stables?” Caspian inhaled and straightened as if readying himself to face something awful. He wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t like deceased estates. She reached out her hand to reassure him that she didn’t mind him poking around. His hand closed around hers. Warm and firm. She’d stayed up late the night before bagging Gran’s clothes and personal belongings. It had been horrible and she’d been glad there’d been no one there to see her. But it was done. The only things left in that room were the jewelry and furniture and a diary that she’d slipped into her purse for safekeeping. There was nothing personal here now, just history. Boxes and trunks and cupboards of history.

She led him out the back. His gaze flickered over the garden that could do with some attention, pruning, weeding, and all the other little tasks that went into making a garden look great instead of scrubby and overgrown. Something rustled to the right and he tensed. His hand gave hers a slight squeeze.

“Are you okay?” She raised her eyebrows. He’d seemed a little jumpy when he’d arrived. Was he just as nervous as her? Maybe they shouldn’t even be thinking about it if it was making them both wired… or maybe they should just get it out of their systems. The all-in method as opposed to testing the water with one toe first.

“Yeah, it’s just been one of those days.”

“The kind where you wished you’d stayed in bed?” Everything out of her mouth was about beds.

“Exactly that kind of day.” He nodded as he spoke as if he was reliving the highlights. “But I’d rather be here than at home alone.”

“Me too.” It was nice to have someone to spend the evening with. Someone who didn’t care if she was in old jeans and a T-shirt and covered in dust. She yanked open the shed door, which squealed like it was dying. The sound set her teeth on edge. It hadn’t made that noise last time. She swung the door again, but it was silent.

“Old hinges; must have been a flake of rust caught in there.” He put his hand on the door and had a look just to be sure.

Lydia pulled a flashlight off the shelves and flicked it on. Something moved in the shadows, and glass smashed. Her heart bounced hard in her chest. “What the hell?”

Caspian muttered something, then spoke up. “Mice?”

“I haven’t seen any.” She cast the beam of light around the shed with a shaky hand, but this time nothing moved.

Very strange. And now she was alert to every rustle as if she was the one who’d drunk too many espressos. Whatever twitches Caspian had tonight were catchy.

“These two trunks.” She indicated two black trunks with metal corners, both padlocked closed. “Once they are out, I can start pulling out the smaller things.”