Otherworld Challenger (22 page)

Fixing a bright smile to her lips, she jumped onto the deck of the small sailboat. “Aye, captain.”

It was sometime later, when they were at sea, Vashti decided to ask Lorcan the question that had been forming in her mind. “Do we have to go to the palace?”

He regarded her in surprise. “Not if you don't want to. Where would you like to go?”

She smiled. “Take me to my sister. Let's go to Spae.”

Chapter 21

V
ashti hadn't seen Jethro since her arrival at the palace for the coronation. She had toyed with the idea of staying away, but she knew how that would have looked. Moncoya's daughter stays away? A rift with the new king already? She could picture the headlines, hear the speculation. No, she wouldn't do that to him.

In the few weeks since he had left Avalon, Jethro had won the election by a landslide. Of course. How could it have been otherwise? He was King Ivo's rightful heir. Handsome, incredibly charismatic and with an air of mystery about him. Okay, he didn't look like a faerie. That was a drawback. But he had the endorsement of Merlin Caledonius as well as the other Alliance leaders. And the biggest thing in his favor...he wasn't Moncoya. The fae race was enchanted with him. At last they had a leader they could be proud of, one who had also been the greatest king the world had ever known.

Getting ready for the coronation ceremony in her old suite of rooms was a bittersweet experience for Vashti. “I can't stay here,” she had protested when Stella had escorted her up the stairs on her arrival. “Some visiting dignitary should be in these rooms.”

Stella had kissed her cheek. “This is where you belong. Besides, did you get a chance to buy a new dress on Spae?” They both laughed at the idea. “All your clothes are still here.”

What to wear when the man you love is taking part in the most important ceremony of his life, but you don't want to draw his attention to you? Vashti ran her hand through the dresses in her closet, settling on a full-length, sleeveless, silver sheath. Tightly fitted to the curves of her upper body, it flared from her hips, falling in shimmering waves as she walked. Her jewels were still locked away in their cases and she selected a pearl-and-diamond tiara with matching necklace and bracelet.

She had just finished her makeup when there was a knock on the door. Her heart gave a lurch. Telling herself not to be foolish—Jethro would be too busy to spare a thought for her—she went to answer it.

Cal and Stella were there. “Can you come to Tanzi's room with us, please?” Stella took Vashti's arm.

When they reached Tanzi's room, Lorcan was seated with her sister on a sofa near the window. Cal's face was grave. “There's no easy way to say this. A body was found in the sea close to the Vampire Archipelago a few days ago. It's been identified as Moncoya.”

Vashti went to kneel beside Tanzi. “He killed himself?”

“We think he was murdered. He had been gathering an army together in preparation for an attack on Jethro. Reports are sketchy, but it seems he may have been killed by his own men.”

“Does Jethro know?” Lorcan asked.

Cal shook his head. “I thought Moncoya's daughters should be the first to hear about it.” He glanced at the clock over the fire. “The ceremony starts in half an hour.”

Vashti glanced at Tanzi, who nodded. “We'll be there.”

When Cal and Stella had left them, Lorcan vacated his seat so the sisters could sit together. “I know he was a bastard...” Tanzi's voice trailed away on a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob.

Vashti nodded. “But he was
our
bastard.” She started to laugh. “Killed by his own men. It seems fitting somehow.”

Lorcan eyed them in surprise as they clung to each other and laughed then cried. Sometime later they dried their eyes and fixed each other's makeup before making their way to the banquet hall for the coronation ceremony.

It was a solemn occasion and all eyes were on one figure. Tall and straight, clad in a somber dark suit and crisp white shirt, Jethro wore the scarlet sash of the faerie king with pride. Looking neither left nor right, he made his way down the center of the room to the podium and knelt before Cal. For once the great sorcerer complied with convention. He wore a full-length white robe—a garment reminiscent of the druid's clothing he favored back in the days when he was known as Merlin—and held the faerie crown aloft.

“Is Your Majesty willing to take the sacred oath?” Cal's commanding tones easily reached the farthest corner of the vast room.

Vashti only realized she was holding her breath when Jethro spoke. His voice was confident and steady. “I am willing.”

“Do you solemnly swear to govern the people of the faerie dynasty, according to their wishes, laws and customs?”

“I solemnly promise and swear to do so.”

“And, so swearing, will you nevertheless uphold the Otherworld Alliance's fundamental principle of respect for all species?”

“I will.” Jethro stood and turned to face the company. Vashti's heart gave a thud.
I can't help it. I love him so much it actually hurts to look at him.
“The things I have this day promised, I will perform and keep. I call upon those here assembled as my witnesses, as guides, as I restore the Seelie Court to its former glory.”

Jethro took his seat on the throne and Cal stepped behind him to place the ornate crown on his head. There was a spontaneous cheer as everyone rose to applaud the new King of the Faeries. In the front row Bertha and Gillespie de Loix held hands and beamed with pride. Next to them, Rina wiped away tears with a handkerchief handed to her by Aydan.

“And, of course, the speculation will now begin about who will occupy that empty throne on his left. The handsome new faerie king needs to get himself a queen as soon as he can to silence the gossips,” Stella commented, watching as her husband broke with convention and embraced his friend.

Stella was right, of course, but Vashti didn't want to listen to any more of that sort of conjecture. Waiting until the formality had subsided and groups were forming to sip champagne and chat prior to the celebration dinner, she attempted to slip quietly away. She almost made it as far as the door.

“Where are you going?” The voice made her heart race. The face, although it was the one that tormented her dreams, was expressionless. No one could do enigmatic quite like King Jethro.

“Your guests are waiting to talk to you.” Conscious of several pairs of eyes upon them, she made another attempt to sidle toward the door.

“So?” He leaned one shoulder against the wall, blocking her exit. “I'm the king. I get to choose who I talk to. It's in the job description. I'm sorry about your father.” Jethro's voice was a caress. “I know that, no matter how he behaved, there were still feelings there.”

“Thank you.” She risked a brief glance at his face. How did he do that? How did those brown eyes manage to scorch her flesh?

“Ah, there you are.” Prince Tibor's cultured tones made Jethro blink, and Vashti managed to start breathing again.

“Stay right where you are,” Jethro murmured before turning to the prince. “Your Highness?”

“Princess.” Tibor's lips were cool as he kissed Vashti first on one cheek then on the other. She marveled at his restraint, knowing he longed to sink his fangs into her flesh. “Can I still call you that?” He glanced from Vashti's downcast face to Jethro's expressionless one. “So, Your Majesty, I think perhaps the time has come for me to stop trying to kill you.”

“That would be nice.” Jethro's sarcasm appeared lost on the vampire overlord.

“At last I understand why Dimitar abandoned me in favor of you. He recognized your majesty.”

Jethro, who had been watching Vashti's face intently, turned back to the prince with a frown. “He did what?”

“Yes, it is a rare gift, one granted only to a fortunate few. Dimitar had it. He knew you had the divine right to rule. I am a prince, you are a king. He had no choice. He was obliged to leave me to serve you.” Tibor's aristocratic features expressed confusion as Jethro started to laugh. “Something amuses you?”

Jethro shook his head, sadness replacing the laughter. “Dimitar told me I was
maiestuos
. It was a Romanian word and he tried to explain it, saying it meant ‘imposing' or ‘stately.' I laughed and refused to listen to him. Don't you see? He knew the truth all along.”

Vashti looked from one man to the other. “You mean Dimitar could have told us you were the challenger?”

Jethro nodded. “So it seems. If the prince here hadn't killed him before he had a chance to explain.”

Tibor's smile held an unaccustomed trace of nervousness. “I think it's time to bury the past.” He held out his hand.

After a brief hesitation Jethro clasped Tibor's hand in his. Vashti could see from the tension in his jaw the effort it took him. “To the future.”

Cal and Lorcan were approaching and, while Jethro was distracted by his friends, Vashti managed to slip away. The new King of the Faeries was focusing on the future...it was time for her to do the same.

* * *

As the faerie representative to the Alliance, Vashti had occupied her own office. She glanced around the familiar room now. It would be needed for someone else. Jethro would take her place at the Alliance table. Clearing this room would give her something to do. She went to her desk and started sorting papers into piles. Almost immediately the door opened then closed again with a distinct slam.

“I told you to stay where you were.” It was definitely the voice of a king. “Stop running away from me.”

“I had things to do. I spoke to Stella earlier and she has found me a small bedroom until I've sorted out where I am going to stay.” She glanced up. Once again, he was doing that whole enigmatic thing he did so well. His expression was unreadable to the point of coldness. “I hope that's okay? It's your palace now, after all.”

He didn't reply. “I have a proposition for you.”

Vashti swallowed hard. She supposed she should have anticipated this. It would be a good move diplomatically for Jethro if he could secure Vashti's support by getting her on his team. The fae race would appreciate seeing Moncoya's daughter working at their new king's side. It would mean he was listening to the sidhes and not simply dismissing the past. But Vashti knew she couldn't work alongside him each day and pretend she didn't care. Her heart wouldn't stand it.

“I don't want political office or a job in your new team.” She carried on sorting papers, not looking at him. “I'm going to continue doing my best for my people, but I intend to take a step back from the public eye.”

“Vashti—” Jethro stepped closer, grasping her hands in his and pulling her away from the desk “—look at me.” She risked a glance at his face. What she saw took her breath away. There was no mistaking the blaze of love in his eyes. “I'm not offering you a job. I'm trying to ask you to marry me, but—as has been the case since the first moment we met—you are making things fucking difficult for me!”

“Oh!”

“Is that all you can say?” A smile lit the depths of his eyes as he scanned her face. “Just ‘oh'?”

“Cal said the only way you got out of that tomb was by remembering your true love. He said it was Guinevere. I know I could never come close to what you had with her.”

She tried to hang her head but Jethro slid his fingertips under her chin and forced her to look up. “Cal said that, did he? I must remember to thank him later. So the legend still persists that Guinevere was my true love? Yes, I loved her. Once. She loved me, too...for a while. Up until the point when she was unfaithful to me with Mordred and then Lancelot. I could never understand why, in this life, I believed love wasn't for me. Now I know I was scarred by my experiences during my marriage.

“When I told Cal I fought my way out of that tomb because I remembered my true love, I wasn't thinking of Guinevere. I was thinking of you. I kept your face in my mind the whole time. I got out of there because I knew I wanted to be with you.”

“Me?” Vashti's voice was an undignified high-pitched squeak.

Jethro's smile deepened. “You and only you. There has only ever been one woman for me. In any life. I don't want to recapture the past, Vashti. I want the future and I do want love...with you. Since you first fought and growled your way into my life, I've loved you.” He laughed. “I just didn't know it. God knows, I tried hard enough to fight it.”

That did make her look up, her brows pulling together. “I know you did. You say I made things difficult for you, but you did the same. Every time I tried to get close to you, you put barriers up between us.”

“I'd say that means we were made for each other, wouldn't you? I don't know if you were meant to be with me on that mad quest so you could save me or so you could show me how to love. Maybe it's the same thing. I do know we'll make a formidable team as king and queen of the faerie race...and the Seelie Court.”

Vashti tried to answer him but all that came out was a strangled sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

“Can I take that as a yes?”

Frantically she nodded her head against the restraint of his hand. Needing no further encouragement, Jethro lifted her against him, crushing her lips beneath his in a kiss that left her in little doubt about his feelings. There was also very little doubt about his next plans for her as he backed her up against the desk so she could feel his erection pressing insistently into her stomach.

“Is this a good time to remind you that you once said you'd make me pay? The hard way?” Her voice was husky as she exulted in the blaze of passion in those dark eyes. “Or do you need to get back to your guests?”

“There's only one guest I'm interested in, and what I have in mind for you, my love, cannot take place in public.” His hand slid down over the curve of her hip as he started to lift her dress.

Quick footsteps sounded on the tiled corridor outside and Stella's voice calling Vashti's name made them spring apart just before the door opened. “Vashti? I came to see if...” Stella stepped into the room. Her bright eyes narrowed as she took in the scene before her. “Oh, I'm sorry. I'll go.”