Fifteen
Calypso
“Why do you let him speak to you like that?” I asked, not for the first time since meeting the old sprite.
“He’s harmless.” Azulin guided me away from the couch by the hand he had captured before. “Come, I am weary of this room.” He signaled Ghost as he walked toward the only blank wall in the room. Azulin’s magic flared, tingling along my arm, through our connection, and sparking through the air, but to my surprise I had no urge to sneeze. Instead, my magic rose to join it, creating a pleasant thrill through my chest.
A great surge of magic made my hair stand on end as a portal formed near the blank wall. Through it, I could see the interior of his tower room.
“Are you up for another test of how far we can be apart?” Azulin asked in a playful tone. His hair curled endearingly over his forehead, glowing in the light of the golden crown that had appeared over his head. His expression was impish and relaxed, a striking contrast from the cool and detached king of a few moments before.
“Are you trying to make me faint again?” I asked.
“I doubt you will.” He met Ghost’s gaze over my shoulder. “Ghost will be here, and I will return promptly. It is better to test this out before we run into an issue later.”
“True,” I admitted, glancing at the glowing circle of gold sparks. His portal power was clearly back and under his control again since it seemed Azulin maintained the portal with very little effort.
“Ready?” He kissed the back of my fingers again, sending a zing of awareness through me.
I nodded, holding his gaze.
He released my hand and stepped backward through the portal. Then, with an abrupt snap, the portal closed. The warmth of his magic interacting with mine cut off, and I felt a general sense of loss, but nothing dramatic.
Ghost studied me. “Feeling faint?”
I shook my head.
“Good.”
“Why does he let Grizzlemunch speak to him like that?”
Ghost shrugged one of his massive shoulders. “Seniority?”
Golden sparks spun in a tiny circle about level with my head. They sped up, and the circle widened until it revealed Azulin standing in his bedchamber.
“Come through. Furintag just left to fetch our meals.” Azulin reached through the portal and caught my hand, interlacing our fingers as I stepped through to his side. “Any lightheadedness? Weakness?” He peered down into my features as Ghost passed through the portal behind me.
“None.”
“Not even a wobble,” Ghost confirmed. “After the meal, will you require my assistance rearranging the room again?”
“Better to begin now,” Azulin responded. “Lady Anon and I will need our privacy after the meal.”
I frowned after Azulin as he moved away. Privacy for what? Talking or something else?
Ghost nodded and stalked off toward the bed. As I watched, the pair of them moved all the furniture back to the places they had originally rested when I first saw Azulin’s bedchamber.
“Are you telling the servants?” Ghost asked as set down a worktable and stretched out the muscles in his back, rolling his shoulders.
“What?” Azulin asked distractedly as he eyed the placement of a writing stand on the desk in the corner.
“That you and she have exchanged vows?” Ghost gestured toward me. “At the very least, your close servants should know what to expect when they stumble upon the pair of you alone.”
Azulin glanced my way. “How do you feel about Furintag?”
I blinked in surprise. “I liked what little I saw of him. Why?”
“Furintag won’t gossip.” Azulin crossed to the table where the servants usually served his meals. “If Furintag alone is allowed to attend us, that would reduce the risk of discovery.”
“Why do we need to hide our marriage?” I asked. “Won’t the truth become evident, eventually?”
Azulin motioned for Ghost to shift the table closer to the windows overlooking a balcony. “As king, I have many enemies.”
“As a mortal, you are a weakness other fae will seek to take advantage of,” Ghost explained. With a grunt, he shifted the solid wood table into place. “We need to compensate for that.”
“Plus, we haven’t found the traitor who handed my name into the enemy’s hands.” Azulin eyed the table with a grimace. “That will have to do,” he told Ghost before turning back to me. “I want a foolproof plan in place to protect you before we make any announcements.”
“Makes sense,” I admitted, fingering the ring on my hand. I took a measure of reassurance from the tingle of the protection spell.
“The coronation, training for your role, and assumption of duties will come later—when you are ready,” Azulin added. “No need to rush. The kingdom hasn’t had an active queen for many years.”
Queen? I wasn’t prepared to become queen of anyone, let alone queen of the fae, a people who were stronger, faster, and far more powerful than I. How could I rule a people of whom I knew so little? I had agreed to marry Azulin, but becoming queen was another matter altogether.
Azulin glanced my way. Some sign of the apprehension forming in my chest must have leaked into my expression because he did a second take, focusing his attention on my face. His gaze softened, but before he could say anything, someone knocked at the door.
Without prompting, Ghost opened it to admit Furintag and a whole host of servants bearing food. They began setting it out on the table. Meanwhile, Ghost led Furintag to the side and whispered something in his ear. The servant nodded and then turned back to supervise the actions of the rest of the group.
Azulin drew closer and whispered in my ear, “We’ll talk later.” His breath stirred my hair and sent a wave of unexpected heat through me. Then he moved away, striding toward Furintag. “My cat will require roasted chicken and hard-boiled eggs tomorrow morning.”
“Very well, sire. I will see that the cook is informed. He sent up a selection of foods he is informed are safe for her consumption. He is determined to expand her diet, despite Lady Anon’s reluctance.” Furintag motioned toward a platter covered with various cooked meats, fruits, and vegetables. “I am to report which the cat prefers so he can add them to her diet. The cook is eager to please her.”
Azulin surveyed the spread with interest before seeking out my attention. “Would you be willing to let my cat out of the dressing chamber? I’m sure she’s hungry by now. Once she has chosen her favorites, Furintag can leave us to consume our meal in peace.”
I nodded, taking his meaning to heart. “I need to change as it is.” Walking to the closet door, I opened it with a great show of calling to the nonexistent cat. Then just before the door closed behind me, I transformed into my cat form and slipped back through the rapidly closing gap, so it appeared that I had closed the door right behind the emerging cat.
“There you are.” Azulin picked me up. My fur ruffled and stood on end as I was abruptly transported from the floor to his arms. “These nice servants have brought you a selection of food. What would you like?” He set me gently on the tabletop.
“Sire, the cat shouldn’t be—” one of the servants protested before Furintag waved him off.
Furintag glared at the servant. “The king can do as he wishes.”
I regarded the two of them for a moment before picking my way delicately across the table to the platter of food.
“Have you tested the food?” Azulin asked Ghost.
“Not yet.”
“Then perhaps—” Azulin moved to stop me, but I eluded his reach before glaring at him over my shoulder.
I sniffed the chicken and experienced no urge to sneeze. However, magic wasn’t the only way to poison someone. My mind raced. How could I indicate a preference without consuming something? My tail curled above me, and I wound it back and forth until it encountered an obstacle. I turned to find a young-looking brownie standing over me. His attention completely riveted on my tail as it brushed against the edge of the dish he held.
“Are you as soft as you look?” he asked.
“Merow,” I replied, sitting on the table facing him and curling my tail around my feet.
Balancing the dish in one hand, he offered me his free one, which I sniffed politely. His fingers smelled of spices with a deeper note of trees and moss. Deeming him trustworthy enough, I headbutted his fingers, asking for pets.
“What do you want?” he asked, fear and awe making his voice squeak.
“Rub her head between the ears,” Azulin advised. I hadn’t heard him move, but he was there, standing protectively over the brownie and me.
The brownie flinched and stepped back. “My apologies, sire. I meant no disrespect.”
“I am not offended.” Azulin stroked the top of my head. Magic hummed through me at his touch, spreading warmth in its wake. My chin lifted of its own accord as I pressed up into his fingers, a purr thrumming in my chest. The slight catch in his breath hinted that I wasn’t the only one affected by the connection. With visible reluctance, Azulin broke contact. “She’s only asking you to pet her forehead gently.”
The brownie reached out tentatively to stroke my head. No hum of magic or thrill of connection, but it wasn’t unpleasant either. However, it served its purpose because Ghost had moved in to test the food on the platter while I interacted with the brownie.
“She’s so soft,” the brownie whispered.
“All clear,” Ghost said.
I eased onto my four paws and abandoned the brownie for the food platter.
“Does she understand what he said?” the brownie asked in awe.
“She is a very intelligent cat.” Azulin’s amusement warmed me.
“Tend to your duties,” Furintag admonished the brownie.
The young servant moved away, and I focused all my attention on choosing my cat form’s diet for the next few months.
∞∞∞
Azulin
I made it through the meal before exhaustion became too much. My head ached as I leaned back in my chair, half listening to Ghost and Furintag discussing the safety measures needed to address our new need for privacy.
Calypso appeared weary. She had remained in her cat form while Ghost and I explained the new situation to Furintag. But the moment she finished her meal—choosing a wide selection of options from the food platter—she prowled across the table and climbed into my lap. Curling into a soft ball, she promptly fell asleep.
I tentatively rested my hand on her back, stroking the soft fur there. The magical connection between us coiled around me; pleasure and comfort teased my senses. She sighed in her sleep. And for the first time in many nights, the tension within me eased. My eyes grew heavy.
“You’re going to get a crick in your neck sleeping there.”
I forced my eyes open and tipped my heavy head back to peer blearily up at Ghost where he was standing over me. “Furintag left?”
“A while ago.” Ghost frowned down at Calypso in my lap. “She appears to trust you.”
“Saving her life multiple times helped.” I groaned. “But how to get from trust to love is the leap I can’t figure out.”
“Not like we’ve had a lot of healthy examples in our lives.”
I grimaced at him. “I plan on stopping by Illeron’s place on our way back from the winter palace next week. He might offer advice.”
Ghost nodded. “Escort required?”
I stroked Calypso’s soft head. “Probably wise.”
“But not welcomed.” Ghost snorted in amusement. “I will attempt to be discreet.”
The weight of my limbs signaled sleep wasn’t far off. If I was to avoid the crick Ghost accurately predicted, I would need to move soon. But I didn’t want to. Calypso’s warmth across my legs and the pleasant caress of her magic twining through my senses made for a very comfortable combination.
“Do you want me to move her, or will you?” Ghost asked.
The idea of him touching her made me force my eyes open. “I will.” She was mine, and I had no intention of letting another touch her if I could avoid it, even if it was Ghost.
Working my hands cautiously around her soft cat body, I lifted her from my lap to cradle her against my chest in one smooth movement. Then, rising from the chair, I made my way to my bed.
Settling her on the counterpane, I reluctantly let go of her. Only then did she lift her head and blink unfocused silver eyes at me. “Merow?”
“Go back to sleep,” I instructed. Pulling back the covers, I climbed into the familiar softness beneath them. Moments later, when consciousness was fading into slumber, the bed dipped and someone settled against my back. Warmth and rightness carried me off to sleep.
Conversation woke me the next morning.
“But I don’t need lace.” Calypso’s muffled voice pulled me fully from sleep. I sat up and blinked in the sunlight pouring through the eastern windows.
“Morning greetings, sire.” Ghost pulled back another drape, tripling the intensity of the sunlight.
“I overslept,” I protested. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Lady Anon’s orders. She decided you needed to sleep.” He smirked before turning away. “Furintag spelled your meal so it would stay warm.”
“Lady Anon?” I asked as I stretched and began climbing out of bed.
“She ate and is currently arguing with the tailor over the clothing he is supposed to be making for her.” Amusement colored his voice. “Don’t worry, she’s handling it.”
“I am not fae.” Calypso’s voice carried through the open door from the dressing room. I could only just see the door past the screen someone had set up to give me privacy. Her calm tones continued. “I don’t wish to wear lace, ribbons, and beading. A simple dress made of these quality fabrics would suit me perfectly.”
“But, my lady, it just isn’t done among the fae” the tailor protested. “A simple gown indicates inferior status. As the king’s companion, you rank just below the royal family. Your clothing should reflect this in both grandeur and expense.”
I rose and dressed.
Drawn by the desire to see Calypso, I ignored my hunger and crossed to the open dressing room door.
“How about a compromise?” Calypso suggested as I approached. “I do like the appearance of this gown.”
She was holding up a heavily beaded gown in an atrocious yellow-green that had been all the rage at the last court social function I had attended. Hosted by one of my councilors, scores of eager fae ladies had attended, hoping to win my favor. At least half of them had been wearing that atrocious color.
“But not the color, I hope,” I said.
Calypso spun to face me, clutching the horrible gown to her chest as she greeted me with a blinding smile. Her gray eyes, warm with welcome and concern, studied me. “Did you sleep well? I didn’t wake you, I hope.”
I found myself smiling in return before I could temper my response. “Ghost woke me by opening the curtains.”
“I told him not to,” she protested. She pressed her mouth into a tight line and glared past me at the absent dragon.
“Ghost does as he wills at times.”
Ghost’s distant cough from the bedchamber was his reminder that he could hear every word I said.
“What seems to be the problem?” I eyed the tailor. Glosove was a high fae and son of one of my councilors. He had been clothing me for decades and showed a disturbing tendency toward fuss in his recommendations for my own wardrobe.
Glosove sighed dramatically. “Lady Anon is delightfully articulate in her communication, sire, but very provincial in her taste.”
I tightened my expression into a mask of cool indifference. “How so?”
Calypso answered. “I don’t like lace, beading, or ribbons, which he appears to favor overmuch.”
“Much like yourself, she appears to prefer a plainer approach to trimmings.”
“I want no trimming,” Calypso clarified. “No matter how you dress me up and fuss about, it won’t change who I am.”
“My companion?” I asked. The urge to call her my wife burned in my mind, but I resisted it.
A slight flush brightened her cheeks, and she avoided my gaze. “I was referring to my lack of fae beauty.” She gestured to her face. The delightful quirk to her mouth drew my attention. The sight reminded me of the fact I still hadn’t sealed our marriage with a kiss. A curious pressure formed in my chest. With great reluctance, I forced my attention away from her mouth.
Her blush deepened. “No amount of frippery will disguise that I am only a plain human. I would rather dress for comfort and practicality than put on a show of trying to be someone I am not.”
“As my companion, you need to dress the part. Your clothing will reflect how much I value you. I wish for you to wear the best I can provide.” I stated it flatly as I rubbed at the curious twisting sensation in my chest. “Do you object to satin, silk, or velvet?”
“I have no objection to any of the fabrics.” She eyed my hand. “Does something hurt?”
“No.” I dropped my hand awkwardly to my side. “Perhaps if you choose the fabrics and the designs for your gowns, Glosove may suggest one or two trims for you to pick for each gown. Would this be amenable to both of you?”
The tailor and Calypso eyed each other for a moment before agreeing.
“And none of the gowns can be that color.” I indicated the gown in Calypso’s arms.
“Understood.” A mischievous smile teased at Calypso’s lips, drawing my attention there again.
Suppressing a groan, I left the dressing room. It was that or banish the tailor so I could kiss my wife in privacy.