Dragon Fae (The World of Fae) (6 page)

King Tibero sighed. “He’s yours then. Though you have made a poor bargain in him. Take him away before I change my mind.”

“Your Kingship,” Ena said, quickly curtsying and grabbing hold of her new and first and only slave—to be servant—and whisked him away, wondering if she’d temporarily lost her mind.

***

Micala paced across his chamber, furious with the fae seers who very nearly killed Princess Alicia. He would have never forgiven himself should she have died. Though his regret would have been short-lived because Prince Deveron would have killed him should that have occurred.

But he couldn’t give up Cassie. Three days apart from her since last week, and he was about to go mad. Was she all right? Did any of the fae seers know he was seeing her? Would they hurt her, believing she had some connection to the fae?

He couldn’t quit thinking about her. Or worrying about her. Or wanting to be with her.

He walked over to his window and stared out at the tops of the trees beyond the castle walls. Alicia hadn’t even told the queen, his aunt, why she’d been to see her friend, Cassie. Not the real reason. Yet he’d overheard her speaking to Deveron about it in the gardens, telling him she would have broken up her friendship with Cassie, telling her she loved Micala, just to keep her friend from falling prey to the fae.

If he loved Cassie, he told himself for the millionth time, he’d leave her alone. He wouldn’t see her. He wouldn’t think about her. But he couldn’t quit thinking about her. Damn it.

If Alicia had the fortitude and loved her friend enough to want to protect her from the fae, from him, he damn well could do what had to be done.

Before anyone tried to stop him, or he changed his mind, Micala transported to Cassie’s brick home and in his invisible fae form sat on her front porch swing, waiting for her to come home from school.

As soon as he saw her arrive at home in some guy’s black pickup truck, Micala saw red.

Then he noticed she wasn’t leaving the truck. She was arguing with the guy, trying to get out of the vehicle. Micala would have transported into the back seat of the pickup and forced the human to let her go, but he sensed something wasn’t right.

A trap, he thought, because he was certain as soon as the guy pulled up into the drive, his gaze had shot straight to Micala sitting on the swing. He hadn’t been moving it. The teen couldn’t have guessed anything was amiss.

Yet for a brief passage of time, the guy had shifted his gaze to Micala, looked at him, then quickly away as though he hadn’t wanted Micala to know he was a fae seer. Cassie had turned to leave the truck, but the guy had quickly seized her arm and wouldn’t allow her to leave.

Was someone in the backseat? Hiding? Waiting for Micala to make the mistake of entering the truck and finding himself in iron manacles?

If so, they were watching Cassie, waiting for other fae that might be interested in her, like Alicia had been, using Cassie as bait.

What if Alicia returned to see her friend as she was known to do on occasion? She could very well be at risk again.

Micala transported himself next to Cassie’s door. The boy shouted something. Micala jerked open the door and grabbed for Cassie’s arm. The back doors were thrown open and it was now or never.

Chapter 5

Ena foresaw that as soon as she arrived at her keep, her people would forget their chores—as fast as word travelled around the dragon fae kingdom and as much as servants gossiped. She knew they’d be all agog at seeing her human prisoner.

She had five servants—one cook, two who cleaned, an advisor, butler, or whatever she needed him to be, and a lady’s maid. She didn’t really need a lady’s maid. She could dress herself—
thank you very much
—and she had no need for anyone to fix her long hair into coils of fancy hairdos like so many of the fae did, as hers was pixie short, shorn just the way she liked it. So she used the maid for whatever capacity she needed her for also.

The thing about her servants, she realized, was they were all misfits of one kind or another. The cook would never have found a more tolerant household to work for so that she could make her culinary dishes because she was always trying new recipes, wasting food stuffs, and creating disasters half of the time. But when she got it right, the meals were divine.

Her butler “butled” his way, so if he didn’t approve, he let her know. No way would he have ever been able to exhibit such outrageous behavior in another dragon fae household.

Her lady’s maid, owing to the fact that she didn’t dress her or create fancy hairdos for Ena, had to make do with whatever task Ena assigned her. Which was probably a good thing for the woman, because Ena had seen some of the disastrous results of the hairdos Muriel had concocted—which had gotten her fired—and she didn’t have the patience anyway to dress a squirming lady either. Her sharp tongue berating the lady for not holding still had earned her another prompt dismissal.

As for the cleaning maids, they used to be gardeners and neither could keep a plant alive, but they had no other skills—not that gardening had been one of theirs either. So they had at least a home—to clean.

They talked too much, giggled too much, didn’t dust enough, but otherwise, Ena really didn’t mind as long as they were in another part of the keep when she was about.

She gave Brett a sideways glance and wondered if she saw him as a misfit also. Not as in that he wasn’t capable of eliminating the fae, but that he was different from other humans in that he could see the fae, so in that regard, he was different also. And now, displaced from his world and lost in hers.

A misfit.

Now, the cook, the cleaners, her butler, and her lady’s maid all stood in the entryway of her small five-story, round stone keep, staring at the human.

“This is Brett,” she quickly said, motioning to the boy, foregoing formal introductions. He
was
her prisoner, after all. “My staff.”

Then she stalked through the keep, her boots making nary a sound on the stone floor, her human following obediently behind her, his sneakers making an annoying squishing/squeaking, whatever—icky sound. She’d have to have him outfitted in dragon boots—silent, perfect for stalking. With her sensitive ears, quiet was essential.

“Cook, is the meal ready?” she asked Lila.

“Aye, mistress.” The middle-aged woman cast a quick glance at Brett, her cheeks pale, and not from the flour she’d used to make pastries this morning, though the woman could look a fright sometimes when she finished preparing a meal.

Ena wondered how she could get so much of their meal all over herself as she was cooking it. Maybe Ena would be the same way if she cooked. What did she know? She stayed far away from the kitchen, not wanting to see what a mess it had become in the process. The cleaning maids stayed away from there, too. That was Lila’s domain and no one ever entered it.

When she noticed that Lila was not heading to the kitchen to deliver the meals to the dining hall, Ena realized she wanted to know about Brett. “Yes, yes, he needs to eat also.”

“Prisoner food?” Lila asked, her eyes wide.

What in the world did prisoners eat? Ena had never had one as a houseguest before and never had visited a dungeon where prisoners were being fed. Why would Lila need to make a special meal for him?

Ena glanced at Brett. His blue eyes were studying her. He didn’t look cowed like he ought to be, she thought. But she figured if she told Lila to feed him prisoner’s food, Lila would then ask her what that would be. Ena had no clue, but she didn’t want the prisoner to know this. Lila might feed him some of that burned slop she’d started out with this morning. Then again, Ena didn’t want to hurt Lila’s feelings and tell her to feed him whatever she had thrown out earlier today.

“Whatever I’m eating, he can eat,” Ena said.

Lila’s eyes widened.

What was Ena going to be eating? Maybe she shouldn’t have been too hasty in offering some of her food. Was it her favorite—calf’s liver? She lifted her nose and took in a deep breath.
Salmon
. She didn’t mind sharing that with the prisoner. Calf’s liver? That was another story.

“Then we lock him in the dungeon?” Ryker, her butler asked. He raised his black brows, punctuating his question.

She raised her black brows back at him.

She could see the hint of a smile in his expression—evil, yes—but it was there just the same.

The dungeon was where she hoarded her gold and other treasures. She’d claimed three caves, but it was too expensive hiring guards to watch them, so she had relented and filled each cell in the dungeon with different kinds of treasure. If nothing else, she loved to organize her bounty. She could sit for hours counting her gold coins.

So how was the human to stay in one of her treasure cells? Sleeping on top of a pile of gold or silver, or gems? She couldn’t remember, but she thought the cots in each of the cells were buried beneath the precious metals.

Too much trouble. “He can stay in one of the guestrooms in back of the servants’ quarters.”

She thought there was a room, not much bigger than a closet, but by human standards—most likely similar to the size of the boy’s bedroom back home. Of course, he wouldn’t have a television, or computer, no Internet, no cell phone—well, he might still have one of those, but he wouldn’t be able to use it—not much of anything to keep him out of trouble, she realized.

He could be their gardener. They’d needed one forever. She’d asked her lady’s maid to pluck weeds from the rose garden, but she’d complained about pricking her fingers on the thorny roses. Ena had suggested she remove the thorns, but that idea hadn’t gone over big. Then Muriel didn’t like getting her hands dirty. She didn’t like sweating—in the summer months when the gardening needed to really be tended to. She didn’t like digging—to remove the stubborn weeds. The list went on and on.

The cleaning maids had killed the plants they were supposed to be caring for at their last places of employment, so Ena had not asked them to lift a hand in her gardens. The butler told her absolutely no to gardening. It was not a butler’s job. He spoke most eloquently and vehemently about what was.

And Cook, well, except for snipping herbs from the herb garden for the meals, she hadn’t time beyond creating new culinary disasters or successes—depending on Ena’s luck—to do anything else.

Ena figured someone would give her a hard time about her choice of accommodations for the prisoner, and sure enough, her guess was Ryker. The butler said, “Is…” Then seeing her sharp look—for once, and probably the only time ever—he bowed his head and said, “Aye, mistress.”

That was a first, and she suspected she’d hear an earful from him later. It shocked her so she wasn’t sure whether she should be thrilled that he’d behaved, or feel at a loss that he wasn’t his usual outspoken self. She believed, owing to the fact that Brett was a prisoner and not her usual sort of guest, her butler had curbed his tongue just this once. But she knew also the peace couldn’t last.

She also knew he had to be worried about the human, most likely because Brett had killed fae before. In fact, she noted everyone looked a little anxious from wringing hands to wringing aprons, to furtive glances in Brett’s direction.

“He won’t kill anyone. He has nowhere else to go. And he would have to deal with me if he causes any trouble.” She said so for his benefit as well as her staff’s.

“I’ve prepared salmon steaks, mistress,” Lila said, looking much more relieved. “If you are ready, I will serve them at once.”

“Yes, do and thanks.” Ena entered the dining hall where portraits of her family, in dragon form flying against a pale blue sky, hung prominently against the gray stone walls.

She noted Brett was studying each of the portraits. She wasn’t sure if he was admiring them, or thinking what a mess he’d gotten himself into. Probably the latter. Unless he was a big fan of dragons—in a purely fantastical way.

She really wasn’t sure what she was going to do with the human. Make him one of her servants, she supposed. She was curious whether he’d turn into a full-fledged fae, and which one, if he did so. And what would happen then.

If he ended up with powers that could beat hers, she might be in for a real fight. Or what if he came from a powerful family and they took issue with her keeping him as her servant? Best to keep him halfway content.

As soon as she took her seat at her favorite spot at the center of the long onyx table, she pulled her high-backed chair covered in soft black velvet underneath the polished black wood. She meant to have Brett seated on the other side of the table across from her to show she was the boss, and she didn’t sit next to the prisoner. But when she heard her brother and his friend, Alton, enter the foyer of her keep, their voices loud and boisterous, designed to irritate her to no end, she quickly motioned to Brett to sit beside her.

She knew she’d have to protect her human and she knew the human was the reason why her brother had made this unexpected visit, when she’d told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t to visit unless she invited him. She hadn’t planned to do that anytime soon. If ever.

Not that she didn’t care for her brother. She did. But he had a way of getting on her nerves—a little teasing could go a
long
way—which meant she preferred non-existent visits.

She had to admit she wouldn’t have minded seeing Alton, if her brother hadn’t been with him. Although she was fairly certain Alton would be just as annoyed about her taking on the task of caring for a human prisoner.

“Well,” Halloran said, walking into the dining room with a bit of a swagger, his black hair longer than hers, which she always thought ironic, his green eyes just as light colored—but that would brighten when he became dragon like hers did.

He was tall, six feet—which made him a more imposing dragon than she was. Males did have that advantage. She didn’t even look in Alton’s direction because she was way too concerned about what her brother was up to.

Halloran’s gaze shifted from her to Brett. “So here is the fae seer who had murdered our kind.” Halloran’s voice was dark and dangerous, and she hoped he didn’t shift right then and there and incinerate her one and only prisoner.

She’d have to shift quickly, and try to defend Brett, and then she’d be highly pissed at her brother for making her do it.

“Are you going to make a nice bonfire out of him on a cold dark night, Ena?” Halloran asked.

She still hadn’t taken her eyes off her brother, wary, watching him for any indication he might shift, but she wanted to see what Alton was doing also. She figured he’d be scowling at both her and the prisoner just as much as her brother was.

She noticed then that Brett sat taller beside her, his eyes narrowed at her brother. She would give the human credit for not being a coward. Halloran could be intimidating. Like now. Even though anyone might stand up to a dragon shifter fae, the posture wouldn’t be enough to keep him or her from being toast, however.

“Aren’t you going to ask us to dinner, dear sister?”

“No. I assumed you had already eaten.” She hadn’t assumed anything of the kind, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. She
hadn’t
intended to invite him. Certainly not when she knew why he was here.

Halloran pulled out a chair across from her and sat down. She expected Alton to sit next to her brother, but instead, he moved straight for her side of the table. He was wearing his typical human blue jeans, loving the fabric more than any fae material, and she was always amused that he would do so—despite that some ridiculed him for the habit. He was also wearing a T-shirt that said, “Play with fire and you WILL get burned.”

Cute. True, too.

His dark brown hair curled about his ears, a little longer than her hair also. Almost everyone’s was but her butler’s. Alton’s eyes were dark chocolate and narrowed on her prisoner, but when Alton realized she was looking at him and not her brother, his eyes widened a little and a smile curved his mouth in an interested way.

She would have smiled back if it hadn’t been she knew he was not happy about her bringing a prisoner home. And she was certain he’d give her a hard time with it just as she knew her brother would.

She was so surprised when Alton took the chair next to her and pulled it out, she realized her jaw had dropped. She quickly rectified that by snapping her mouth shut. He sat down in the chair and pulled it closer to her. So much so, he brushed her leg with his own. And
that
he hadn’t done before either.