Chapter 15 #2
The duocorn shut his mouth, picked up the red dress, and tossed it at me. “Put it on,” he said, a touch hastily. “I’ll get my makeup kit.” He shimmied back out again.
“Donovan…” My own voice held a warning. “What else should I be thanking you for?”
“Nothing.”
Bart chuckled into his cocktail glass. “The building is nothing.”
“Is it Violet House? Is that the thing you would consider generous? Is that the thing I should be thanking you for?”
“You need not thank me for anything. Consider it payment for services rendered.” A strange expression drifted over his face. “You have already done more to stop my brother from growing more powerful than any of my company has done in the last half century or more.”
I shook my head, confused. “Half-century? Connor has been at it for fifty years? I thought you were the older brother? You don’t look a second older than thirty-two.” I paused and held up a finger. “Actually, let’s circle back to that. I noticed you didn’t answer my first question.”
Donovan let out a gruff noise. “Violet House was a mere fragment of bone when she was grafted into the foundations of this building. Domiciles like Violet are fairly common in my realm,” he explained.
“They are like… like pets, I suppose, but you don’t know what kind of Domicile you’re going to get until the bones are grafted in place and watered with magic.
” His eyes drifted around the luxurious drawing room.
“As luck would have it, she has turned out to be possibly the most magnificent Domicile I have seen, but she was not valuable when I had Cecil install her here.”
“So what is the—”
“Me,” Cecil said, clomping back in, wheeling a huge suitcase behind him. “It’s me. I’m the generous gift.”
Donovan growled. “Cecil.”
He bowed. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. She’s going to find out eventually. We might as well get this over with.”
I stared at him. “You?”
“Of course, me.” He struck a pose. “I’m what we call a foilynre ey bateromont. Loosely translated, it means ‘spoils of war.’”
“You’re a spoil of war?”
“That’s right. My herd was foolish and stubborn enough to go to war with the Kingdom of the Crystal Gardens many years ago. We lost, and as part of the ceasefire negotiations, my family had to offer up a sacrifice to enter into the Royal Family’s service.”
I gasped softly. “They gave you up? As a sacrifice?”
“I volunteered, actually,” he said, a little snippily. “Back then, I would have done anything to get away from that herd of stuck-up arrogant assholes. I’m a bit of a black sheep, if I’m being honest, Chosen. An outsider. A lone wolf.”
“You are? Is it… is it because you’re short?”
He gasped. “No, you bitch. It’s because I have two horns. The rest of my herd are standard unicorns. I’m too extra for the rest of those losers.”
Behind him, Donovan shook his head. Because he’s short, he mouthed.
“And because I have two horns, I’m blessed with extra magical abilities,” Cecil went on, oblivious. “I’ve always had an affinity for working with Domiciles, so I would credit most of Violet House’s magnificence to my presence.”
Donovan shook his head again.
“But most of my talent is in ambience. I can make anything beautiful. Including you.” He pointed a hoof at me. “Please, put that dress on now, Chosen. We’re running out of time.”
Dutifully, I unzipped the red dress and stepped into it.
I hadn’t felt embarrassed about standing around in my underwear, firstly because Cecil had already supplied me with the most exquisite lacy black shapewear, which covered all the bits that needed to be covered, pushed my breasts up and out proudly, sucked in my tummy, and slimmed my hips.
I’d lost most of my pride when I was incarcerated, and when you spent twenty-three months of your life in either orange jumpsuits or hospital-issued pajamas, you tended to want to show off when you could.
The shapewear was amazing. I hadn’t looked this good in years.
“Unfortunately for me, my raison d’etre doesn’t quite vibe with the rest of my herd,” Cecil went on, adjusting the red dress as it fell around me.
“Making things beautiful is an act of service to society at large, and unicorns don’t do service.
They are proud and haughty creatures. None of them liked me changing the wallpaper in their stables.
They get really snippy when you put foil highlights in their manes while they're sleeping.”
“Ungrateful fools,” I said, carefully draping the gown’s straps over my shoulders.
“Yes! Exactly! Thank you, Chosen.” Cecil huffed out a sigh. “I have a talent that cannot be held in. I must work my magic, or I will explode.”
“That’s why you volunteered as a spoil of war?”
“Yes. I figured that at the very least, I’d be doing what I loved—making things beautiful.
Of course, if I had known that the Queen would mothball me for years, I might have just put up with living with my herd.
I realized quite quickly she was hoarding me with the intention of gifting me to someone worthy of me.
I have his Highness to thank for liberating me and bonding me to you. ”
I frowned. “We’re bonded?”
“Of course!”
“How so?”
“Well, it’s like a marriage...”
“It’s not like a marriage,” Donovan rumbled from the corner. “It’s a magical contract. He is foilynre ey bateromont. Cecil has been gifted to you from the Royal Family. He belongs to you now. He’s your servant, and you’re his mistress.”
Cecil gasped, offended, but he closed his mouth, and didn’t say anything else.
I didn’t want his feelings to be hurt, so I patted his mane gently, only for him to whip around and bite at me with his horsey teeth.
Ooh, he was pissed. I didn’t really blame him for snapping. “So, er, you’re the very valuable thing I should be thankful for, Cecil.”
He eyed me suspiciously. “I am.”
“Far more valuable than a multi-million-dollar building. More valuable than a magical sentient house.”
“Yes.”
“You’re highly prized. Coveted. And powerful, just like a genie.”
He looked a little mollified. “I suppose I am. In fact, when combined with the strong magic of a Domicile like Violet House, I am very much like a genie.” He wrinkled his nose. “Except I am infinitely better looking.”
“I bet the Queen is going to be mad when she finds out you’re gone.” I was just trying to make him feel better, but for my sake, I hoped the answer was no.
“Oh, she’s going to be furious!”
Damn.
“I am one of her most precious things, a foilynre ey bateromont, and a duocorn, too. I could have been a present for a foreign tyrant that she wanted to appease, or a very expensive gift of appreciation for a powerful ally, or a dowry for one of the future princes or princesses. Instead, the Heir had me stolen from the treasury and bonded to…” He waved his hoof dismissively. “You.”
I glanced over at Donovan. He was still looking out the window. He didn’t turn.
There was a long moment of silence. “Am I in danger?”
All three of them answered simultaneously. “Yes.”
“The Queen is the least of your worries, Chosen,” Cecil said, fussily smoothing down the dress and fixing the straps to fall over my shoulders. “She cannot do anything now that Prince Donovan has gifted me to you.”
I spoke to Donovan’s back. Too late, I realized he wasn’t being rude; he’d turned away while I was undressing. “What will she do to you?”
He let out a rough breath. “Nothing. My mother and father have instructed me to do whatever I have to get Connor to stop what he’s doing and come home.”
Something about his tone gave me pause. There was an edge of hurt in his words. “Just the four of you?”
“It did not have to be me personally, but I felt it was my duty.” He didn’t turn, but after a second, he nodded. “Discretion is necessary.”
I understood. Donovan’s spoiled brat brother was on a power trip, and Donovan had been sent to quietly reel him in.
Despite the fact that Connor’s actions could destroy countless realms, hobble multiple different species of magical creature, and turn him into an overpowered tyrant who could destroy the very fabric of all the Worlds, his parents—who sounded like elitist assholes themselves—wanted Donovan to take care of it quietly.
Bart threw the last of his martini back and got up out of the armchair reluctantly. “As much as I want to hang around and see the results of your makeover, Susan, I have to go. Mikhael wants to go to the ballet tonight.”
“Thanks for coming over, Bart,” I said warmly. I had no idea who Mikhael was. Bart had an endless parade of beautiful young men and women he went out with on weeknights when he wasn’t babysitting me. “And thanks for… you know.” I waved my hand in the air. “Everything.”
He kissed me on both cheeks. “I have to be nice to you now, you’re my landlord.” He chuckled.
A blush warmed my cheeks. “Well. Guess who is going to be living rent-free from now on?”
Bart patted my shoulder. “I wasn’t paying rent anyway,” he said smugly.
“It’s not my lease. Gavin and Montero have a contract in Barcelona for the year, I’m just housesitting for them.
” He smiled at me fondly. “I’m so glad. You deserve it all, Susan.
” He turned and bowed to Donovan. “Your Highness.” He moved back upright, suddenly uneasy. “I know I don’t have to—”
“She will be safe, Shifter,” Donovan said, his voice cold. He didn’t turn. The Prince was back to brooding-mode. “I will see to it.”
“Er. Good,” Bart said. “Have a great night.” He looked around the massive room. “How do I get out of here again? Is it through those white and gilt carved doors or the marble archway over there beside the Ming vase filled with the blush peonies?”
“Come,” Donovan said. “I will guide you back to your apartment.” They walked out; Bart, lumbering like a big teddy bear, and the Prince, just as tall, but moving like a warrior, like a tiger stalking through the jungle, with a barely contained tension simmering inside of him.
I understood why he left. He needed to move.