Chapter 35 The Prince
The Prince
“Keep your eyes closed,” Azul advised, sounding infinitely more gentle than he had only moments before.
“I don’t want to see how far I am away from the ground anyway,” she replied.
His chuckle reverberated musically through the chest under her tightly pressed cheek, the muscles there flexing with his wingbeats in a most alluring fashion. She’d like to see him without a shirt doing this. Okay, fine, she’d like to see him totally naked doing just about anything.
“I can’t believe you lied to me about the wings,” she said with a fair amount of petulance.
“I didn’t lie,” he replied. “As you’ve no doubt astutely surmised by now, I cannot lie.”
“Because you’re fae.”
“Because I’m fae.”
“And not any kind of part blood fae, either. You’re the high octane, pure, all the way deal.”
He laughed again, full-throated, with all the velvet of his beautiful tenor singing voice. “I wouldn’t put it that way, but yes.”
“What in the seven hells were you doing in the human realms marrying a mortal woman then?” she demanded, forgetting and opening her eyes to glare at him. With a yip of pain, she closed them again instantly, stars dancing burning points against her retinas.
“Told you,” he said on a sigh. “A moment longer and we’ll be inside. You can ask all the questions you like. But I warn you, the geas I spoke of is still in effect.”
“Who could put a geas on a prince of Amethyst?”
“Another question I cannot answer.”
The light blazing against her eyelids dimmed, a blessed shrouding dimness falling around them. And—praise be to the seven heavens—her feet touched solid ground.
“We’re there, but it’s still too bright for you. Keep your eyes closed a moment longer. Can you stand?”
“Been doing it all my life, save a few months there at the beginning.” Unfortunately, when she tried to put weight on them, her legs buckled.
With a soft curse, Azul swept her up in his arms and carried her into a deeper dimness that made her sigh in relieved delight. It definitely wasn’t because some hitherto unknown sappy, romantic place deep inside thrilled to him carrying her. “Must you always be stubborn?”
“You ask that like you don’t know me at all.
” She risked squinting her eyes open, relieved to find herself in a place of normal human brightness.
Correction: a palace. Azul currently carried her through a spectacular hall lined with what appeared to be pure amethyst. Ahead of them, purple light blazed with headache-inducing intensity, but as they progressed, golden shades descended over the arched windows, reducing the hall to a comforting lavender glow.
“Just how powerful are you?” she asked, trying not to stare too much.
If he’d been enticing before, he fully entranced her now.
She’d be worried, but it wasn’t as if she could run away.
Dying in his arms would be a far better fate than the acid pit from the fifth hell, so she wasn’t going to overthink it. A skill she’d refined over the years.
“It depends,” he answered with a quick glance at her and away.
“Prevarication isn’t lying?”
“You ask that like you don’t know me,” he retorted. “When you’re unable to lie, dancing around the fuzzy gray borders of the truth is all you have.” He carried her into a grand bedchamber and laid her on a bed the size of a small lake.
“Why, Azul,” she cooed, fluttering her lashes, “if you wanted to seduce me you could just say so.”
He cocked a brow at her, his wings half-mantled for balance as he crouched, pulling off one of her boots, then the other. “Oh yes, because half-dead humans are irresistible.”
She flopped back, acknowledging the truth of that.
In truth, she felt more than half-dead. Was three-quarters dead a thing?
She was somewhere between three-quarters dead and mostly dead, she decided.
And she was seriously punch drunk, which didn’t bode well for her brains.
She should try to rally. “What is this place?”
“My pied-à-terre in Moonstone.” He rose to fetch something.
“Aren’t those supposed to be small—a pied-à-terre?”
“This place is small, comparatively, and it’s my home in Moonstone, a sovereign piece of land where I have sole authority. Sit up.”
“Sit up. Stand up. Throw up.” Her head seriously swam, threatening that very thing as she tried to lever up.
“Just the first,” he replied, amusement threading his voice. He sat on the bed and slipped an arm under her, lifting her to lean against him. “Drink this.”
She eyed the eerily glowing goblet in his hand, the purple liquid within sizzling as if boiling, giving off a heady fragrance like violet honeysuckle. “You’re bossy all of a sudden, Your Royal Highness, king of your sovereign realm.”
“Prince,” he corrected. “And yes, that includes you at the moment, stubborn one, so drink lest I be forced to pour it down your throat.” His arm tightened around her as she tried—okay, feebly—to pull away. “You’ll feel better, Arantxa,” he said in a quieter, coaxing tone. “I promise.”
“Well, since you can’t lie,” she grumbled, feeling a little foolish for resisting, but also like a weenie for capitulating.
But she wasn’t going to have him feed it to her like she was a sick kid.
She took the goblet and sipped, the liquid gloriously delicious and refreshing.
She gave it another long look. “Is this…ambrosia?”
“A form of it. Purer than what you feed the enchanted animals. It won’t turn you into a carriage,” he teased, humor lighting his deep blue eyes.
“Speaking of,” she said, refusing to be charmed, “where is Katu?”
“Let’s make a deal. I’ll talk as long as you’re drinking that.” He dipped his chin at the goblet while holding her gaze.
“I’ve always been told to never make a bargain with the fae.”
He smiled, brushing some hair out of her eyes. “Too late for that, my sweet Arantxa. Your first mistake was saving my life.” He raised his brows at her surprise. “Implicit bargain. Drink if you want answers.”
She sipped, telling herself it was because she already felt better from that bit and not because he was ordering—or extorting—her into it.
“Katu is here,” he said as soon as she lifted the goblet to her lips. “He is well-fed and resting. When I felt your distress and came looking for you, I found him first and brought him here. Keep drinking. Yes, I sensed your trouble and sought you.”
“Wait—so you can read my mind?”
“No.”
“I’ve heard that some fae can—”
He laid a finger over her lips, closing them. “Some fae, yes. Not me. Besides, listening to people’s thoughts is an exercise in chaos and cacophony. I don’t wish it on anyone.”
Hmm. Then how did he know that? She wanted to ask, but fae couldn’t lie, so… “If you can’t read my mind, then why could you feel my…” She refused to call it distress, but she also didn’t want to whine.
“Not thoughts,” he filled in, saving her from the word search. His fine lips twisted in a rueful smile. “Just very strong feelings of being in trouble, of your life being in danger. The life debt gives me no choice.”
“I had no idea.”
“It’s not something the fae publicize,” he replied drily. “Imagine if that were commonly known, the sordid elements of humanity who would seek to take advantage of that.”
“You think I’ll be hurt that you just called me sordid, but I’m at peace with myself.”
He met her gaze levelly. “I did not mean you, as you are possibly the most trustworthy human I’ve ever met.”
Awww. Her heart did a disconcerting flippy-floppy thing.
“Why aren’t you drinking?” he asked, eyes glittering, expression stern, and her pussy sparkle leapt to join the impromptu heart-dance.
“You just saved my life,” she pointed out, very quickly between swallows. “Doesn’t that balance us out?”
“That doesn’t cancel the connection between us, only deepens it,” he replied somberly. “To answer your other questions, I’m very powerful when on my own sovereign land, less so when I’m not. Even less so the farther I am from it.”
“You’re a prince of Amethyst,” she said, showing him the empty goblet.
With a satisfied nod, he took it from her and set it aside. “The Prince of Amethyst,” he clarified.
She should have known, but that was extraordinary enough information that she forgave herself for assuming otherwise.
“I was in your human realm to get married,” he said drily, “to Lenorae, as you already know.”
“And who the hell is she that the Prince of Amethyst was marrying her?”
“That I cannot answer, but you asked earlier who can put a geas on a prince of Amethyst and I can only suggest you remember what little you ever learned about the order of power of the fae realms.”
“The Prince of Amethyst,” she corrected, just to poke at him. “Only Cinnabar and Ruby are higher than Amethyst.”
He smiled slightly, tapping her nose. It could have been any gesture of random affection, but she knew it was a yes to her assumption.
For such a casual touch, it also lit her up inside.
Okay, lit her up even more. “Do I have to call you ‘Your Highness’?” she asked, wrinkling her nose to banish the tingle.
“Why start now?” he returned drily. “If you began according me the respect of my rank, I might not know who you are.”
“Excellent point. We wouldn’t want that.”
“How do you feel now?” he asked.
“Much better. In fact…” Oh, seven hells, what was she thinking, lolling around and having heavy-lidded, pussy-sparkling thoughts about the Prince of Amethyst? “Dy! Where is she? Did she make it back?”
Azul shook his head, the ambient lavender haze deepening the blue of his curls as they bounced. “I don’t know. It’s you I sense, not her.”
“I have to go find her.” She tried to scoot off the bed, but he restrained her. Gently, but with that implacable fae strength. “Let me go, Azul,” she growled. “You might be King of all you survey here, but you’re not the boss of me.”
“Prince,” he corrected, then had the audacity to smile at her glare. “It matters. My father, the actual King of Amethyst, would take it very much amiss were he to learn that I allowed anyone to apply his title to me.”
The King of Amethyst was Azul’s father. No wonder the Moonstone fae had been so agog.
This just got more and more surreal. Azul’s smile deepened at her obvious consternation.
“While I have you temporarily speechless, let me explain two things. The first is that it is daylight outside and your human eyes can’t take the brilliance of the light.
You’d go blind in minutes and be no help to Dymphna at all. ”
“I don’t need to see to ride the ley lines,” she insisted stubbornly. “I don’t have a lot of magic, but what I do have works without sight.”
“And everything else you need to see?” he asked, holding her gaze, and she had to drop hers in acknowledgment.
“Second,” he continued, “though you’re clearly feeling much better, you’re still injured and need to be healed.
I can take care of that and we can leave at nightfall.
Non-negotiable,” he added with a lift of his brows, making it clear he’d learned that little phrase from her.
Though she hated to give up without a fight, he’d made excellent points. Then what he’d said struck her. “We—you’re coming with me?”
“Well, I need to get back to Granite and I thought I’d see if you’re willing to be my ride.” He grinned. “I can pay.”