Fantasyland 03 Fantastical (10 page)

Close between him and Salem.

Then he tipped his chin down, caught my eyes
in the bright lights of the gaily lit lanterns and muttered,
“Right, your game.”

My previously light heart sunk like a
rock.

I wasn’t convincing him.

Damn.

“Tor,” I whispered but said no more when his
big hand came up and curled warm around my neck.

“It means, love, that you’re mine and what’s
mine is part of me and I’m royalty.”

My body jolted and my voice was a muted
shriek when I cried, “
What?
”

“Quiet,” he clipped, not releasing my
eyes.

I got up to my toes and whispered, “You’re
royalty?”

“Yes.”

“Royalty,” I repeated, just to confirm.

“Yes,” he forced out through his teeth.

“Honest to God, blue blood royalty?” I kept
at it, not taking it in.

His brows shot together as he replied,
“Gods, woman, my blood’s red just like yours.”

“You know what I mean,” I returned on a
hiss, going further up on my toes and my fingers curling into his
shirt to keep myself from toppling over at my precarious position
and at the shock of his news.

“No, I don’t.”

Shit. They didn’t have the term blue blood
here either.

All right. Moving on.

“What are you? A baron? A duke?”

“A prince.”

A prince!

“
What?
” I shouted.

His fingers at my neck squeezed and his face
got to within an inch from mine. “Woman,
quiet.
”

“What?” I whispered.

“Can we not do this?”

“You’re a
prince?
”

He looked over my head. “I see we’re going
to do this.”

I shook my head in shock and disbelief while
chanting, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” over and over
again.

“Cora.”

“Oh my God.”

“Cora.”

“Oh my
God!
”

“Cora,” he clipped, “stop saying that or
I’ll kiss you quiet.”

I snapped my mouth shut.

“Get hold of yourself,” he ordered.

I stared up at him. Then I asked, “Your
father is the king?”

“Yes, love, that’s what being a prince
means,” he answered with waning patience.

“Holy crap,” I whispered.

“Cora –”

“So, uh… where are you in line to the
throne?”

“First.”

“Holy crap!” My voice was rising again just
as my body went solid and his fingers tightened at my neck.

“Cora, damn it to hell,” he bit out.

I sucked in breath then I whispered, “First
in line?”

“Yes,” he gritted.

“Wow,” I breathed.

“Are you done?” he asked.

“Do you have brothers or sisters?”

He glared at me. Then he muttered, “I see
you’re not done.”

I pulled the bunched fabric of his shirt in
my fists back and then slammed them against his chest. “Tell
me.”

“Dash, the second son, Orlando, the third.
Now
are we done?”

“Those are your
brothers?
” I asked in
shock.

“Yes.”

“You look nothing alike.”

“Three different mothers.”

“Holy crap!” I cried.

“Woman,” he clipped.

“Right, right.” I glanced around to see eyes
on us, a number of them. In fact, we were drawing a crowd. Then
again, he was the future freaking king, for God’s sake. “Sorry,” I
whispered when I looked back at him.

“Finished?” he asked.

“Um… for now,” I answered.

He looked over my head again and muttered,
“Gods, save me.”

Then he let me go, grabbed my hand and
guided me into a building with a wooded sign jutting out of it that
had a painting of the very village we were in on it over which it
said, “The Riverside Rory”.

I let him do this and let him seat us at a
table by the window and kind of let the proprietress fawn over us
and let him order for me and took a sip of the crisp, cool, pale
amber fluid that was set before me (which tasted vaguely of apples
and strongly of alcohol) and I did all of this without word because
the only thought in my head was,
Whoa, I’m married to a
prince.

I snapped out of it when something hit me
and I focused on him to see he was watching me. Then I leaned
across the small, clean wooden table toward him.

“Does this mean I’m a princess?” I
asked.

He stared at me looking annoyed for a second
then he sat back and sighed, “That’s what usually happens when a
woman marries a prince.”

I sat back and looked dazedly out of the
multi-diamond-paned, wavy-glassed window, mumbling, “Oh my God, I’m
a princess.”

“Gods, that you would have granted me this
boon when she wed me and with it gave me one night of this hot,
greedy tart rather than the cold, selfish fish you gave me,” he
muttered, my eyes moved to him and I saw he was speaking to the
ceiling in audible prayer.

But his words penetrated so I leaned across
the table again and asked, “What did you just say?”

His eyes cut to me. “You like being a
princess?”

I sat back and threw out a hand. “Of course
I do. That question is absurd. Any girl wants to be a princess. And
in this world, I
am
one.”

“Well, you are one but you aren’t.”

I blinked as my happy, fairytale balloon
deflated. “I am one but I’m not?”

“Love, you live in a house, it’s a nice
house but you live there because you choose to live there. You
warmed my bed like you warm my hides, you’d live with me in my
castle.”

My eyes rounded and I breathed, “You have
a castle?
”

“Bloody hell, here we go again,” he
muttered, staring at my face.

The proprietress arrived with wide, shallow
pewter bowls filled with divine-smelling, delicious-looking,
steaming stew and a cutting board resting precariously on her
forearm topped with a fluffy loaf a brown bread, a knife stuck in
it and a small ramekin of creamy butter at the side.

And when she did, I looked up and informed
her, jabbing my finger at Tor, “He owns a castle.”

Her body jerked, her eyes shot to me then
she dipped down in an awkward curtsy while still balancing the
bowls and board.

“Yes, your grace,” she muttered, her eyes
moving to my shoulder.

“Isn’t that cool?” I asked her and her eyes
flitted to me then back to my shoulder.

“Cora,” Tor warned in a low voice.

I turned to him and cried, “Well it is,
Tor!”

“Gods,” he muttered and I finally noticed
the woman and her burden.

“Here,” I reached out, “let me help you with
that.”

“Gods,” Tor muttered again as I took a bowl
from her and set it in front of Tor.

“My,” she whispered and I looked up at her,
smiled and divested her of the bread board.

“Heya,” I belatedly greeted.

“Erm… your grace,” she mumbled.

“This bread looks
fantastic!
And the
stew smells
superb!
” I noted as I took the last bowl and put
it in front of myself. “And what’s this I’m drinking?”

“Cider,” she whispered.

“It… is…” I leaned closer to her,
“
awesome!
”

“Erm, I’m pleased you think so, your grace,”
she replied.

“I totally do!”

“We brew it from apples from our own
orchards.”

“Well then, you’re clearly masters at it.”
She stared at me like I had three heads so I went on, exclaiming,
“I can’t
wait
to eat!”

“I hope you find it to your liking,” she
mumbled, her eyes slowly lighting as she looked at me.

“It can’t
not
be. If it smells that
good, I’m certain it tastes heavenly.”

“We’ve had few complaints,” she informed me,
her voice getting stronger, her lips tipping up.

“I bet not,” I replied and finally looked
around to see the inside of the pub was as appealing as the
outside. I looked back at her. “You have a lovely place here.”

She bobbed again and pink came to her
cheeks. “Thank you, your grace.”

I looked back around, noted the pub was
filling and my eyes went to her. “Sorry, I’m keeping you from your
duties.”

“It’s my honor, your grace.”

Wow.

I smiled at her. “If you get a quiet moment,
get yourself a drink and come sit with us,” I invited.

“Bloody hell,” Tor muttered under his
breath.

“No funning?” the proprietress breathed, so
shocked at my invitation, she didn’t hear Tor.

I shot an irritated Tor a look then
rearranged my face to smile at the woman. “No funning. I’m Cora,” I
extended my hand to her and she jumped back like it hissed and
bared fangs. “It’s okay,” I encouraged her.

She studied me then timidly lifted her hand
and her fingers closed around mine as I felt a murmur run through
the crowd.

“Liza,” she whispered as my fingers gave
hers a friendly squeeze. “Liza Calhoon. My husband Rory and I own
this pub.”

“Lovely to meet you,” I let her go and
gestured to Noctorno. “My husband,
Prince
Noctorno.”

Tor glowered at me but composed his features
to a benign (but still gorgeous) smile when he turned and inclined
his head to Liza.

She bobbed again, dipped her chin low,
stayed bobbed down and muttered reverently, “Your grace.”

“Rise,” he murmured and she did.

Uh…
wow!

“I’m honored, to be sure,” she told him.

He inclined his head again.

She grinned at him then she grinned at me
then she said, “Enjoy your meals.”

“I’m sure we will!” I assured her, her grin
turned into a smile and then she twirled and scurried excitedly
away.

The minute she did, the crowd’s low murmur
rose and this was likely because the future king was in their midst
but I didn’t care. My mind was awhirl.

I was a princess. My husband lived in a
castle. And there was a huge amount of food right in front of
me.

All was right in my world.

I tucked in.

I wasn’t wrong; the food was
fan-freaking-tastic. I snarfed down a half dozen spoonfuls of
scrumptious stew then stopped in order to cut into the bread.

“You want bread?” I asked Tor.

“Yes,” he answered.

I sliced while asking, “Can I see your
castle?”

“You’ve seen it.”

I dipped out a huge wodge of butter and
started spreading it before I looked at him. “Okay, then, can I see
it again?”

He eyed me. Then he said, “We’d be safe
there.”

I stopped spreading butter and stared at
him. “We would?”

“The Shrew cannot practice on sacred land.
All royal land is sacred land.”

Was he serious?

“Are you serious?”

He was chewing. I waited for him to swallow
then he said, “Yes.”

I stared at him again, counted, got to two
then exploded, “For God’s sake, Tor! If we’re safe in your blinkety
blank castle, why’d you take me to a cave?”

His eyes narrowed and he commanded,
“Quiet.”

“No,” I shot back, dropping his bread and
the knife. “I want to know.”

“Lower your voice.”

“Dude, you took me to
a cave!
”

His brows knitted ominously and he growled,
“I told you, I do not like this name.”

“I don’t care!” I returned heatedly and,
might I add, loudly.

Mistake. Big one.

He rose from his seat and was around the
table in a flash. Then I was out of my seat. Then I was in his
arms. Then his hard mouth was on mine. Then his delicious tongue
was doing equally delicious things
in
my mouth.

When my belly warmed, my bones turned to
water, my nipples were tingling, a surge of wetness gathered
between my legs and my arms curled around his neck and held on for
dear life, he lifted his head and I gazed hazily up at him.

He held me plastered to his body and he
didn’t move back even an inch.

“When I say quiet, Cora, you be quiet,” he
said low. “You don’t, I swear to the gods, I’ll keep at you until
you do and I don’t care if that means I’ve got to throw your skirts
up and take you on the bloody table. Am I understood?”

Oh dear.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“You’re a bloody princess,” he clipped.

“Okay.” I kept whispering.

“Act like one,” he ordered.

I nodded though I wasn’t certain what that
entailed.

He glowered at me. I tried to look
contrite.

Then he let me go and started to move around
the table but as he did a wave of sound hit us, he moved back to
me, his arm circled my waist protectively and we both looked at the
wild, cheering like mad crowd.

“Hurrah!” someone cried.

“Long live Prince Noctorno!” someone else
yelled.

“Behold, the black prince and his exquisite
bride!” someone else shouted.

How. Totally.
Cool!

“Hey, ya’ll!” I shouted and waved.

At my greeting, the cheer rose so high it
nearly took the roof off.

Cool!

I smiled. Tor’s arm around my waist
squeezed.

“Princess,” he clipped into my ear.

Oh shit.

Right.

I stopped waving like a friendly person,
closed my fingers, cupped my hand slightly and started waving like
a royal person.

This had no affect on the crowd who kept
shouting, clapping and stamping then someone yelled, “We love you,
Princess Cora.”

“Isn’t that sweet?” I yelled back in the
direction from where the words came even though I had no clue who
said it.

“Deliver me.” I heard Tor mutter from beside
me and I looked to the side and up at him.

“What?” I asked.

“Just, gods, please sit down and eat,” he
replied.

“Sure,” I said, smiled at the crowd, did the
royal wave again then Tor let me go and we sat down.

The cheering kept going for a bit then
subsided but only when Tor looked toward them, inclined his head
but lifted a hand, palm up, and he pressed the air out. They took
their royal command and cooled it.