To Love a King (Court of Annwyn) (11 page)

He nodded, not knowing what else to say. She touched his arm, then left him alone. She wouldn’t stay in Annwyn. She would go back to Charleston and await his next instruction. He just had to work out what that was. There were too many things circling with no fixed path. He stripped off his underwear and tested the temperature of the water.

Warm. No doubt it had been hot when first brought across the veil by some low-level fairy before being handed over to the shadow servants. His fingers didn’t even make a ripple because of the silver bauble in the bottom of the tub. How easy would it have been for someone to put a few drops of the river in here and poison him while he was already weak. Yet no one had even tried. He was surprised. Perhaps Sulia hadn’t expected her Grey army to fail.

How many knew that he’d been poisoned by iron, and who would suggest it to exploit it?

Taryn had suspected, but she’d been there.

Dylis knew. But he trusted both. Had one of the Greys reported back to Sulia? Where had she hidden while the hounds had hunted for her? She was too crafty for his liking. A dangerous opponent. He needed to catch her off guard while she was still debating what to do next, after his shocking survival.

He eased into the bath and closed his eyes. The tension didn’t leave him and the water chilled too fast around him. He scrubbed at his hands, removing the blue stains. The smaller scratches were already healing. His back stung but no longer with the burn of iron. He rubbed his face.

There were so many things that could go wrong. The fastest solution would be to bring Jacqui here straight away…but she wasn’t pregnant. And she didn’t want to be pregnant. Hell, she didn’t even want to have sex with him.

Was it best to wait until the last day or act sooner? What would Sulia be expecting from him? To wait. Without a doubt, her plans would be fixed around his mother’s coming execution. He dunked his head under the water and then stood. Not even the drips from his body stirred the water. He needed to move up his time line and press the slim advantage that he had over Sulia.

As he dried and dressed, he worked out his next few steps but stumbled every time he thought of Jacqui. What would he tell her? Or was this good-bye? He paused for a moment, shirt half-buttoned, then realized it was no longer a choice. Maybe there had never been another choice after what happened seven years ago.

***

Jacqui was walking back from her lunch break when she saw it. An imp. A one-foot-tall pile of trouble. She stopped immediately, stunned to be seeing a fairy other than Felan; then she had to pretend as though her phone had buzzed to give her a reason to stop. She fiddled with the screen, never looking directly at the wasted little Grey with the long, spider-leg fingers, then kept walking as if there was nothing there.

However, her heart was hammering. She hadn’t seen a Grey for years. And yet here one was, a week after Felan had shown up. Coincidence? She didn’t think so. She touched the iron crescent that had hung at her throat for the past four years. It was proving to be more of a balm for her mind than actual protection from fairies. Lower still was the mirror.

She’d seen the battle and seen him live, had watched as a beautiful blond fairy tended his wounds. She couldn’t deny the spike of jealousy at their obvious familiarity. Then she’d seen him in a bath, eyes closed as if he were drowning under the weight of what was going on. Even when he should be peaceful, he looked tense and unhappy. Her heart ached for him. If she hadn’t told him to stop, if she’d insisted that he stay, he would’ve never been caught in the battle. Guilt had added its weight to her heart.

From the corner of her eye, she tracked the imp. It was definitely following her. Felan had been attacked by Greys. Was this part of the same plot? She shivered even though it was sunny. No matter how much she tried to ignore it, she was tied up in Felan’s race for the throne, and she couldn’t say no. She didn’t want to lose him forever. She just didn’t know if she was ready to commit to forever in Annwyn.

When she walked into the coffee shop, she glimpsed the imp still trailing her. This was not a random Grey that was tagging along. It wasn’t trying to make trouble by tripping her—those people who tripped over their own feet were usually tripping over a Grey; she’d seen it happen—or throwing litter in her direction. This one was deliberately watching her and staying out of the way. It must know about her and Felan. Why else would it be here? And if it knew about her and Felan, it would be reporting back to someone, someone who wasn’t on Felan’s side.

The old fear resurfaced, the one where people would think she was crazy for nervously looking around or deliberately stepping over things that no one else could see. She shrugged off the worry; she hadn’t been like that in years. She’d trained herself to act as if she didn’t see them, but she hadn’t seen any for years, and at the first test, she’d almost failed. She drew in a breath and smiled at Ash, who looked terribly busy restocking the sugars on the tables.

The after-lunch lull. Usually she liked this little pause. Today the shop was too empty. Just her, Ash, and the imp. Its dull skin was stretched tight over delicate bones. It was too thin and too tiny. It was dying, and coming after her was its last throw of the dice, an effort to win favor with the Court.

She busied herself restocking the drink fridge. Maybe it was only attracted by the mirror. But she didn’t quite believe that. Too many things were happening too fast. Like her and Felan and the way she’d so easily invited him into her bed. Thoughts of that night were now tainted with what had happened afterward. She should have swallowed her doubts and kept going, let herself drown in the pleasure he offered like she always had. She wanted to be able to close her eyes and let the last seven years vanish as if they were nothing but a bad dream.

It was too easy to let reality slide around Felan. The imp squatted in the corner as if settling in to watch her while still being out of the way. She closed her eyes and sighed. This was reality—her reality that no one else could see. She wasn’t crazy; she just saw fairies.

If Felan walked into the shop now, the imp would have something to report, which would mean more Greys or even a visit from a hostile Court fairy. The idea of more fairies arriving to spy on her, or worse, was enough to make her blood run cold.

She closed the fridge door, the chill of the air sweeping over her arms and drawing up gooseflesh. The time for ignoring Greys was over; she’d seen that in the mirror as Felan had cut them down. But could she kill it? Maybe she could just capture it?

And what?

It was dying anyway. She knew she had to kill it and eliminate all threat to her and Felan. She swallowed, not sure how she was going to do it.

This was why she didn’t like fairies in her life; she was finding reasons to justify murder. And yet if she didn’t do something, there would be worse to deal with.

“I’m going out the back.” She wiped her hands on her pants and hoped she didn’t look as guilty as she felt just thinking about it. Maybe she could put the imp in the freezer. Wasn’t that a kind way to kill snails?

Ash nodded and went back to filling up the napkin holders.

Jacqui opened the door and went out the back into the storeroom, half hoping the imp wouldn’t follow, but it did, slipping through the gap just before the door closed.

It wouldn’t follow her into the bathroom would it? Did she want to be shut in the restroom with it? No, and if she stood here for much longer, it would get suspicious. She picked up the broom and gave the floor a halfhearted sweep. The little brat kicked her dust pile and laughed. That was more like what she expected from a Grey. If she hadn’t been able to see it, she’d have just assumed she’d accidentally trod in the pile. Her fingers tightened on the broom. She had to do it. She could do it.

With a mock sweep she caught the imp against the wall with the broom. “Why are you here?”

It gasped and tried to wriggle free, but Jacqui pressed harder. It wasn’t getting away now that she’d revealed she could see them. No good would come of that. While she hated that Felan had given her the fairy wine, she was also glad. It meant she could see the danger instead of being blind.

The imp licked its lips. “You have a fairy mirror.”

Jacqui shook her head, refusing to be sidetracked or tricked. “Who sent you?”

“No one.”

She pressed a little harder and tried to think of it as a rat and not a fairy. Who was she kidding? She hated using mousetraps. Every time she had caught a mouse, she’d thrown out the whole thing because the idea of dealing with the body made her want to hurl. On cue, her stomach tightened and bucked. The lunch she’d just eaten turned sour.

The imp was probably lying, especially since she was holding a broom to its chest. And now it knew that she could see fairies, which meant that if it was reporting back, they would be more careful about being seen next time. She shuddered.
Creepy.

“You’re lying.”

The imp grinned. “If you were going to kill me, you would have by now. Let me go and I’ll make sure they go easy on you.”

She released a slow breath, closed her eyes, and pushed. Bones cracked and there was a small squeal and a wet squish. Then silence. She gave the broom an extra shove just to be sure, then opened one eye to check. The imp’s head was bowed, its arms hanging loosely. She eased the broom away from the wall. The crushed body fell to the floor. Blue blood and guts were smeared over the cream paint.

Her stomach heaved. She dropped the broom and ran for the toilet, only just making it. She threw up until there was nothing left, but every time she thought of it, her stomach went into spasms.

“We have customers and you’re taking your sweet time.” Ash opened the door and stuck her head through into the storeroom. “Are you okay?”

Jacqui forced herself away from the toilet, wishing she’d shut the door. “I think lunch was bad.”

“You don’t look so good.”

Of course she didn’t look good; however, she was doing better than the imp. She tried not to glance in that direction. Her stomach twisted but she swallowed and sucked in a breath. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”

She had to dispose of the evidence that Ash couldn’t see but other fairies could.

“Okay, I’ll manage.” The door clicked closed.

Jacqui took another couple slow breaths, steeling herself for the cleanup. She put the broom away first, then, with the dustpan and brush, she swept up the dust and lifeless body. While she gagged a couple times when she glimpsed innards, she survived the trip to the trash. Then she wiped down the wall. No one would know.

Slowly and carefully, she rinsed the cloth and then washed her hands until there was no blue blood to be seen. She dried her hands, glad that they weren’t shaking. While she still looked pale, she didn’t look as though she’d just killed a fairy spy. The small round mirror that Felan had given her glinted in her reflection.

Don’t look. I don’t need to check on him.

But she did. What was he doing while she killed?

She pulled the mirror from around her neck, cupped it in her hands, and looked into it one last time.

Felan was wrapped in a dark cloak and around him were thin bare tree branches, as if he were high up. His lips moved, and she knew he was talking to someone. He looked cold and sad and resigned. Alone. She wanted to be able to reach out and hug him. She wanted him to be here to hug her and tell her she’d done the right thing.

He was never here when she needed him. It was always the other way around.

She had to make him realize how unfair it was what he was doing, but when she looked at him in the mirror, she knew he was suffering enough just trying to keep Annwyn together and getting ready to take over.

To take over, he needed her.

What did she need from him?

Once it had been enough just to have him around. Then she’d never wanted to see him again. Now? She didn’t know, only that what they had wasn’t enough. She smashed the mirror against the sink, then let the shards wash away. Then she dropped the chain in the trash. For a moment she stood there, unable to move. She’d destroyed her only connection to Felan and she wanted it back. She wanted him back. And she hated herself for that weakness.

If Felan never came back, she’d know he was living the rest of his long life with another woman, someone who had agreed to live in Annwyn and be the Queen of the fairies—and she’d have to live with that knowledge for the rest of her life. That she’d kicked him out and forced him to take someone else as his Queen, someone who didn’t love him, thus giving him the one thing he didn’t want—a loveless marriage.

In that moment, she knew what it was that she wanted.

She’d seen the lust in his eyes, heard him say the words, but she’d never felt loved. Special, yes. Desired, yes. Loved? No. Did he actually know how to love, or was he so caught up in the drama of Annwyn that he’d never let himself risk actually showing it? She believed the loss of the baby had wounded him—she didn’t doubt that at all. She didn’t even feel like he’d ever lied to her, but he hadn’t been completely honest either. He’d always kept part of himself carefully guarded.

When he came back, they would be having words, because she couldn’t live in another world if he was always going to be a little distant. She wanted more than Annwyn. She wanted his heart. Jacqui left the storeroom and went out the front. There were two tables of customers. Nothing Ash couldn’t have handled on her own anyway.

“Better?” Ash wiped the coffee machine.

“Yes.”

“So…have you heard from him?” Ash said.

Every afternoon at the end of her shift, she’d expected to see Felan walk in, and every day she’d been left staring at the door. Four days and not a word. Some things never changed. And yet, this time she knew what he’d been doing while he was away, and none of it had been pleasant.

“No.” How did she explain that this is what he did? The whole time they were together, he’d make her feel like the only woman he desired in the world; then he’d go and leave her desolate for days or weeks. She was a puppet at the end of his string, always dancing to the tune he played. The worst part was she always wanted more, even now when she knew what to expect.