Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
Professor Owen’s maid, Gladioli, stood on the steps outside the manor house, silhouetted by the light of the open door behind her. “Hello, Mrs. Susan!” She waved happily as Donovan, and I walked up the long driveway.
“Hi, Gladioli!” I waved back, then did a double take.
It sounded like Gladioli. She was wearing her usual uniform—pressed black knee-length skirt, crisp white shirt, black tie, sensible shoes— but she looked…
different. She was a foot shorter than I remembered, and her skin was creased with a billion more wrinkles than usual.
Her nose and chin were so long, they almost met in the middle of her face.
Her gray hair was green. My footsteps faltered.
Donovan felt me hesitate and squeezed my hand gently. “She is a brownie.”
I spoke out of the corner of my mouth as we walked towards her. “How the hell did I not notice that before?”
“You did,” he murmured back. “Your eyes saw her. Your mind may have refused to comprehend what you were seeing.”
The brownie waved me forward excitedly, and I got over her odd appearance quickly. I kissed her on both cheeks. “It’s good to see you, Glad.”
“I was worried you would never come back, Mrs. Susan,” she said happily. “I missed you. None of the Professor’s guests ever offered to help with the washing up before. You were the first.”
“And, if I recall correctly, you threatened to stab me in the chest with a dessert spoon and carve out my heart if I so much as picked up one plate,” I said fondly.
“Of course I did. It was a terrible insult to me.” She grinned back. “I would have done it, too.” Her eyes drifted upwards, taking in Donovan’s blisteringly handsome presence. Her lip curled in disgust. “I see you have mated again. Ugh. He is infinitely more disgusting than your last one.”
I blinked. “Ah…”
“Well met, Brownie,” Donovan rumbled. “I swear on my life, I have not laid eyes on an uglier creature than the one who stands before me right now.”
“Donovan!” I gasped.
Gladioli’s sneer disappeared, and she grinned, preening like a little girl with a pretty dress. “You are welcome here, sir.” She bowed. “Please, go on in. The Professor is receiving his guests in the antechamber.”
We walked inside. “What was that about?”
“Brownie diplomacy,” Donovan murmured softly as we walked down a massive, red-paneled hallway lined with portraits of stuffy people peering down their noses at us. “Their beauty standards are the opposite to ours.”
“So… you just told her that she is the prettiest creature you’ve ever seen?”
“Essentially, yes.” A hint of a smile lifted the hard line of his lips. “And she thinks I am more handsome than your husband.”
“Ex-husband,” I corrected. And he was. By miles. Donovan was the most beautiful and terrifying man I’d ever seen in my life. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t my date; we were here on a mission. My stomach churned again. “Speaking of ex-husbands, there might be a few people—”
“Susan!”
I looked. Professor Owen waved at me from an alcove up ahead, just before the closed doors of what I remembered was the formal dining room.
I smiled. Dean Owen looked like a living definition of a “wacky professor.” Small and slight, bordering on skinny, dark-skinned, with scruffy white hair and a long white beard that brushed his chest, the professor wore a purple velvet three-piece suit, the waistcoat embroidered with what looked like tiny, stylized vaginas.
A massive rottweiler sat at his feet, panting.
A little puddle of drool lay underneath Bonbon’s mouth.
The professor waved us forward. The massive hallway seemed almost a whole football field long. The manor house was obviously a Domicile. How had I not noticed it before?
Just before we reached him, his eyes swiveled towards Donovan, and they widened in shock. His mouth moved, and he muttered under his breath. I caught the words as they echoed towards us.
“Holy slimy pixieballs, it’s the prince himself!”
As we approached, the professor stepped forward, clasped his hands behind his back formally, and bowed deeply from the waist, almost doubling over.
“Prince of the Westerlands and all of the Southern plains,” he boomed in a loud voice.
“Conqueror of the Twelve Isles, Heir to the throne of the Crystal Castle. Your Highness, you are most welcome in my Domicile.”
The enormous Rottweiler at his feet gave a rumble.
“Don’t worry about Bonbon,” the Professor added. “She’s already given you the green light. You are who you say you are.”
I bent down and gave her a scratch behind the ears. “Hello, Bonbon. It’s good to see you again.”
The enormous dog writhed under my touch.
Donovan stopped a few feet away and glowered.
I glanced up at him, confused by his sudden hostility.
“You’re fooling no one, Ahdeannowyn,” he said, his voice low and cold.
“You are Elonn fae, the keepers of knowledge. You see how the chess pieces move before the game has even begun. You are not surprised to see me.”
“Oh, I am.” The professor kept his head sandwiched between his legs, still bowed.
“Of course, the probabilities were there, but they were not in favor of you coming here yourself.” He chuckled sheepishly.
“You are High Fae, but even more than that, you are Heir to the whole Kingdom. None of us had our money on the fact that you would embark on this mission to stop the Devourer yourself.”
Donovan let out an exasperated noise. “Does the entire Upper World think so little of us?”
Professor Owen hesitated. “Your brother is the Devourer, Your Majesty. We know what you are capable of.”
My eyes swung between them, fascinated, and a little horrified. Maybe Donovan knew more about tyrants than he was letting on.
“I have responsibilities,” Donovan said, his tone ice-cold.
“You understand responsibilities, Ahdeannowyn. You are the guardian of your realm’s spark stone.
You knew it was in danger, so you brought it here, to the Middle World.
You came here specifically to entice the One of Every Blood so she would close it for you. ”
“Of course I did. I would do anything to protect the magic of the Scribes, even if it meant taking our stone out of the Upper World.”
“You knew who she was,” Donovan’s voice grew impossibly colder. “You knew that Susan Moore was the Chosen One. You knew that she was unaware of… everything,” he growled. “You could have helped her.” Suddenly, the darkness in his eyes lifted, and he seemed a little uncomfortable. “You may rise.”
Slowly, Professor Owen rose until he was standing.
He placed his hands up, palms out, as if trying to placate a thunderstorm.
“Before you rip my head off, Your Highness, please remember your own words. We value knowledge above all else. The Chosen remained unaware of her nature until now. So until now, she was quite effectively hidden from those who might have harmed her.”
Donovan hesitated for just a second. “She has suffered.”
“Diamonds are formed under pressure.”
Donovan glared at him for a minute, then, finally, he turned to me. “Chosen. Will you leave us to speak in private for a moment?”
“No,” I said immediately. “Oh, God, no. I don’t want you to fight.”
Professor Owen chuckled. “It wouldn’t be much of a fight. That man could kill me with his pinky. In his sleep.”
Bonbon let out a whine.
Donovan bent his head, staring directly into the hellhound’s eyes. “I will not physically harm your master or you. You have my word.”
“Okay,” I said tentatively. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll, uh, just go in, shall I?” Suddenly, my nervousness overwhelmed me, and it had nothing to do with Donovan or Professor Owen.
The professor opened the door behind him and bowed deeply again. Soft music, cackles of laughter, and enthusiastic conversation drifted towards me.
I am a strong, confident woman. I am in control.
I took a deep breath, lifted my chin, and walked into the dining room. All the conversation stopped immediately. If this was a movie, I’d hear a record scratch.
“What the hell are you doing here?”