Chapter 31
Beatriz had been right. The excitement of meeting an undead god could not deter Elysia from the practicality of her situation. She was a daughter of the Crown and she had not shown her face around court in far too long. Long enough that whispers were no longer whispers, but brazen lies curling off jealous tongues.
She’s a Parker. Probably cheated on the crown prince and ran for her life.
I heard she fell into drugs just like her sister. Won’t be seeing her again.
That’s what happens when you piss off Georgia Parker. You disappear.
Her personal favorite was a particularly luscious tale of her finding true and scandalous love with one of her father’s steamship captains and steaming away to pirate the seas. She was rather good with a sword even if she did prefer the agility of a dagger.
She lifted the precious cargo she was carrying higher as she carefully clipped up the front steps of the castle to the curved double doors. Behind her, on the iron gates that stood between the castle’s courtyard and the rest of the city, were heads. Rotting heads shoved on pointed iron fencing. In spite of the bloat and rot and bird-picked bones, she knew exactly who was on display.
All the rebels who didn’t get away that night under the sea.
The prince’s offer to help felt hollow and thin inside her chest as the scent of human decay lingered in her nose. He thought her difficult. She was beginning to think him particularly dense.
Her slowly shifting perspective on the prince eased some of her heartache and muted the questions that hounded her in the quiet hours. Questions like, was there ever even anything real between them? She wasn’t sure it mattered at this point, but the question remained, aggravating her late at night.
As for right now, she needed to soothe her parents’ anger before they did something stupid and ruined her plans altogether. In other words, she had to proceed as if everything were normal.
Elysia smiled easily at a guard and laughed to herself. Normal. As if anything about her life was normal. Shocked faces corrected themselves into hurried nods of greeting with every step she took. She shook her head, loose waves brushing her face. As if any Parker would ever disappear that easily.
The moment her mother’s office door was in sight, it began a slow glide open. Elysia stifled the grin trying to form on her face. Someone must have run awfully fast to make sure Georgia Parker knew her wayward daughter had returned to the castle halls. As expected, of course. She imagined they’d received a fat tip for the matter. Good for them.
Her mother appeared in the doorway with lies like honey for all the burning ears. “My sweet girl, I’ve missed you so. Come in, come in.”
It was no wonder Beatriz had received countless lashes for rolling her eyes when her mother spouted off bullshit like that all the time in front of people.
Elysia dutifully followed her mother in and took control before her mother could flatten her like a bug beneath her beautiful shoes.
“Before you say anything, look at what I’ve brought.” She held out the luxurious garment bag like the obvious peace offering that it was. She smiled wickedly and looked up at her mother. “Go on. Look.”
Georgia rested a hand on her hip, the lines of her face deepening in displeasure. “I really ought to send you to your father. The absolute amount of trouble and embarrassment you’ve caused us. Did you know your father has been secretly sending his personal guards on searches for you? He didn’t believe for one moment your message or the prince’s excuses about your extended travels.”
Her heart thudded anxiously, but the heat that flushed her face was not fear—it was that cursed anger she couldn’t seem to rid herself of anymore. She smiled politely over the roiling sensation. Send her to Father? Like she was an errant child in need of reprimanding instead of a grown adult. Gods forbid she threaten their name.
Her scarred feet twinged though. She was convinced the pain was psychological half the time at this point—no less real, but triggered by even the thought of being forced to endure her father’s punishments. Face fixed, she ignored her mother’s comment.
“It’s for the Raven Ball. I thought I might want something… unique this year.”
Curiosity winning out, her mother finally surreptitiously stole a peek at the garment bag only for her brows to raise in surprise. A small sound of wonder escaped her as her hands glided over the raised signature sewn onto the dark red garment bag. Still staring at the signature, her voice dropped to an almost reverent whisper.
“How in the realms did you acquire a Pleur creation? Is it vintage?”
Elysia replied airily with a wave of her fingers. “Called in a favor, gave a favor. You know how it goes.”
Kava’s most reclusive and renowned designer had not made a gown in years. Elysia did not blame the poor soul. His magic was in every stitch of every creation he’d ever made, but by the gods did he make beautiful gowns. He’d had no choice but to pretend his magic was gone after the Fall. No more magic, no more gowns.
She’d heard he wanted proper papers that would allow him to start over in one of the lands where magic still ran free, and she’d been more than happy to assist. For a charge, naturally. One divine gown to be worn at the Raven Ball, to be exact.
Georgia deftly worked the ties, gently opening the protective bag. She stared silently for a full minute before turning to Elysia with her eyes wide. “The cost?”
Elysia sat primly on the edge of the nearest armchair. “I haven't the faintest. Sent the bill right to the prince.”
Her mother gave her an approving smirk and reached to touch the fabric, but Elysia shot forward, pulling the dress away to safety. “Ah, ah, ah. No touching until the ball. This beauty will be locked away like the fine piece of art that it is until then.”
Georgia looked at her from the corner of her eye and moved to take a seat. She crossed her legs and folded her hands.
“Should I be expecting you to disappear again before then? You created quite the headache for your father and me.”
Elysia tied the garment bag up tight, picking it up like it was made of gold. “Highly unlikely, but now you have a brilliant story to tell everyone about where I was, and that’s what matters, isn’t it? That you have a story to tell? Have a lovely afternoon, Mother.” Her smile was sharp as glass.
She left her mother standing in a shroud of regret that she had raised two daughters every bit as conniving and dangerous as herself.
Elysia stood barefoot and undressed, staring at the garment bag. Her mother may have been put out by her disappearance, but she knew that the story of Elysia Parker securing a Pleur gown would be halfway across the court by now. Some nonsense story about her parents not wanting to ruin the surprise, but wishing to alleviate concern about their darling daughter.
Sir Larkspur swatted at the ties hanging down from the dark red garment bag. They’d moved back into her flat now that she was certain the prince wasn’t about to immediately turn her in for treason. Gage hadn’t loved it, but she needed space and the freedom to do what was needed without anyone squawking at her about safety.
Elysia looked between the cat and the dangling ties for all of a second before swiftly removing the garment bag. Anyone with a cat knew how that was going to end. Her armoire wasn’t quite tall enough for the floor length gown, but it was better than the dress becoming kitty ribbons. A solid knock struck her door just as she closed the armoire.
“Jessa, right on time,” she muttered, picking her way through the clothes and shoes strewn about her floor to the front door.
She unlatched the numerous locks trailing down the door and gave a shout for Jessa to come in. Padding back into the living room, she yelled over her shoulder. “This tincture better work like a charm because it smells disgusting . I don’t know how that old meela thinks I’m supposed to choke it down.”
Larkspur darted through her legs, almost tripping her as he shot by with a jovial mewl. Elysia grabbed hold of the closest chair, struggling to right herself. “Larky boy, what are you trying to do?”
As she got her feet back beneath her, a low chuckle hit her ears.
That motherf ? —
The prince grinned like a fox and plucked Sir Larkspur up into a cuddle where the traitor purred lazily, rubbing his dark little face against the prince’s grown out stubble. “At least someone misses me.”
Elysia reached for her dagger only to swipe against bare skin.
The prince struggled to contain his laughter, chest shaking with the effort. “Missing something, Parker?” His eyes trailed pointedly over her body.
Embarrassment scorched up her chest and neck.
She was still walking around in her undergarments.
Unclothed. Unarmed.
And she’d quite literally unlocked her front door and let him in her home.
A boyish grin took over his face as he watched her struggle to regain any semblance of dignity.
Bastard.
She lifted her chin and strode away silently, her feet pounding loudly against the floor as if her ass was not firmly on display. Which it was. Snatching a dressing gown from her bedroom, she tied it on with haste. Dagger in hand, she stalked back out to the living room only to find him perched on the arm of a chair without a trace of apology on his face. The traitor Sir Larkspur was now draped peacefully over the prince’s shoulders, sound asleep, looking like a damn fur stole.
Unsheathing the dagger, she smiled pleasantly enough for someone who was pointing the sharp end of a weapon at someone. “Get out. We’ve already had this conversation, and it ends with me telling you to get out .”
The prince sighed loudly and ignored her. Walking into the kitchen, he leaned against a counter. One ankle crossed over the other and her cat draped over his shoulders. The sight made her want to scream.
“As good as you are with that knife, we all know you’re not going to stab me.”
She raised a silent brow in reply.
“Elysia.” His voice caressed her name dangerously.
“Fine.” She bit out the word and then flung the dagger the moment his body relaxed. It struck and vibrated in the space between his splayed fingers on the counter’s edge.
The prince didn’t so much as flinch. He pulled the dagger out cleanly, thoughtfully, and held it back out to her as if she hadn’t just almost relieved him of his fingers for the second time in so many days.
“I can’t believe I never even considered knife play.” He leaned forward tauntingly. “All you had to do was ask.”
“Oh my gods, you’re impossible,” she muttered, reaching to rip the dagger out of his hand, but he grabbed her wrist and, with one sharp tug, pulled her into his body.
“Have I turned you in?”
“No.” Her face was muffled against his chest. Idiot smelled good. Like the forest and fresh rain. It was terrible.
“And how long have I known?”
She tried to squirm, and his arms turned to bands of steel.
“Ugh. Yes, we get it. You’re so amazing for not having your girlfriend turned in for execution. Well done, you’re practically a saint.”
She stomped her bare foot down on his booted one knowing it was going to hurt her scarred soles but not caring. He swore and she twisted. She shot out of his grasp only for his long leg to wrap around hers. Her knee buckled, both of them crashing down to the floor. Scrambling on all fours, she tried to crawl away, but was yanked back and flipped over.
Thick thighs settled on either side of her, reminding her of that night beneath the sea, and all her air whooshed out.
“Gods below, you weigh a ton. Move, ” she choked out, slapping at his sides.
“As if I’m going to fall for that.”
She huffed and pinched him sharply in the soft flesh of his waist.
“Hey!” His hands shot out to pin down her wrists before her nails could be directed at his face. “Such a pest sometimes.”
Glowering, she considered if she could jacknife her leg up and rail him in the back of the head. She might pull a hamstring in the process, but some things were worth it. Like clocking him in the skull so she could get away from his overbearing ass.
He frowned down at her. “Are you going to listen now?”
She didn’t answer, busy wiggling her hips down to give herself a little more flexibility.
He sat down harder, trying to quell her movements. “I’ll take that as a yes, then. Tell me about this tincture. What are you trying to do with that rebel girl? Why were they so interested in you even though you’re connected to the Crown?”
Elysia batted her eyes. “Oh yes, now that you’ve broken into my home and pinned me like some common thief I’ll surely tell you everything! Come closer, I’ll whisper all my secrets in your ear.”
The prince’s shoulders dropped in annoyance. He leaned in, ass lifting off her waist as his face became exasperated. “Why do you have to be like this? You’re acting more and more like your sister lately.”
Elysia preyed on his error, using her core to lift her own hips as well. Her leg flew up, foot slamming into his neck and head. The prince toppled, his hands grabbing at where she’d struck him as he swore, while Elysia rolled out from beneath him.
Back on her feet, her breaths came fast. “You say that like it’s such a bad thing.” She grabbed a glass, filling it with water and gulping it down. “You keep coming to me, begging to be let in on what we’re doing. Telling me that I refuse to hear the truth, but you don’t even have the balls to admit what this is really about.”
The prince clambered to his feet, his steps heavy and hand still clutching the base of his skull. “And what truth is that?”
She set the glass down, meeting his bright gaze. Lifting one hand, she gestured at his chest. “That festering ball of pain living inside you.”
The prince’s face became stone. But he didn’t say a word.
She spoke softly. “I can feel it, you know. Hear it too, sometimes. It sounds like it will bleed you dry.”
His eyes shot to hers, wild and electric at what she knew. Fingers flexing by his side, he gritted out his reply. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her own anger melted into a deep sadness. She shook her head, feeling the fight drain out of her. She spoke quietly again. “You stand in front of me tangled in years of secrets, lies, and omission, and you want me to trust you? I know secrets better than anyone, and you? You’re made of them.”
She studied him. The man who was once familiar was now strange.
“I won’t make you say it aloud. But we both know what’s at the heart of it.”
His mouth was a thin line, body tense at what she was implying, but he didn’t stop her, so she kept talking. Made sure her voice was gentle and true.
“Death, grief, rage. That’s what lives inside your chest.” She paused. “Losing your sister changed you, didn’t it? More than you ever let on.”
The prince took a half step back as if the weight of her words had knocked the rugged arrogance clean out of him. His mouth hung open as if to reply, but a furious pounding against the door tore the moment away.
Elysia stared at him tiredly. “If you have any self-preservation, then I would recommend the window as a means of exit.”
He glanced over to her in question, but didn’t move, seemingly unable to process their interaction.
She shrugged and walked over to the door. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The door kicked open before Elysia could reach it, and in strode the eldest Parker. Each and every confident step exuded a very specific type of elder sister bossiness. For some reason that Elysia couldn’t quite put her finger on, the sight didn’t bother her as it once had. It might have even made her smile just a little.
Beatriz stopped cold when she saw the prince. She looked like she’d stepped in shit and could smell it under her sharp, thin nose. “I don’t recall anyone inviting a fucking Blatz to this party.”
Her eyes went to Elysia. “He looks like you kicked his puppy. Tell me you kicked his puppy.”
The prince seemed to shake himself free of his constraints, a mocking smile returning to his face. Rolling his broad shoulders, he cracked his neck.
“Business take a turn lately, Beatriz? You seem more agitated than usual. Or is that just the drugs just wearing off?”
She shot him a dangerous look. “The House is as it always is.”
Elysia watched their standoff and felt her usual irritation with her sister spring right back.
“What business, Beatriz?” Her voice sounded a little too shrill, and she knew she shouldn’t have asked. She’d very purposely never pried or sought after her sister’s secrets. If her father ever came asking, she didn’t want to know the truth of it.
Jessa swung the door shut, strolling over to lounge beside Elysia. She silently eyed the prince, her shrewd cat eyes going up, then back down. It was an obvious evaluation. Something the Crown Prince was not often subjected to—at least not by tavern owners who kept nail-studded planks behind their bar. Jessa frowned like there was something she didn’t understand, as if perhaps she found him lacking. But her face smoothed and she turned away, leaving the prince looking disgruntled.
Beatriz looked on laughingly. In a voice more prim than Elysia had ever heard her speak, she asked, “Yes, Jessa? Your verdict?”
“It’s just…” She looked at Elysia, speaking slowly as if she were working out her thoughts. “We might have our issues, but you’re smart, educated, one of the few women who works for the Crown, and you’re even pretty when you’re not getting people killed.” Her eyes cut back to the prince, confusion rippling her forehead. “You know what, I date women. I’m sure you’re just fine.”
She patted the prince on his generous bicep. Stunned into silence, he blinked—his head swiveling between all three women.
Beatriz snickered, then became falsely serious. “While I have enjoyed my time with the men of this fine land, and they may even draw my eye… Thank the gods for the House.” She gave a wicked grin.
Elysia rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, I’m an uncouth, unfortunate soul who has been twice cursed. Once with undead gifts and twice with falling for this creature, but he was just leaving.” She leveled the prince with a withering glare.
The corner of his mouth hitched up a notch. “Knew you still loved me.”
Elysia felt the honest happiness beneath his words like a sharp kick to the ribs. Did she?
She rubbed at her arms, trying to push away the uncomfortable sensation. “Can you please leave already?”
He relaxed back into one of her prized stolen arm chairs. “I think not. You all look far too irritated by my presence, which means you are obviously up to no good and I’d be stupid to leave.”
Hands smacking against muscular thighs, he leaned forward as he continued. “So, what are we doing this evening, ladies? Elysia did mention something about a disgusting tincture. Or are we plotting to take down the Crown? Is that it? I may have a few pointers.” His last words ended in a whisper.
“Maybe just its heir,” Triz muttered.
The prince flashed a grin and waited.
Elysia finally snapped, her fingers now clenched into fists. “You can’t stay!”
She internally groaned the moment the words left her mouth. The light in his eyes had just shot sky high at her reactive response. Good luck to any of them getting him out now. Would have to throw him out the window by his damn ears.
He settled deeper into the cushy chair, brushing his fingers over the worn leather. “I cannot fathom what has you riled into such a tizzy, but I can’t wait to find out.”
Beatriz sighed and cursed at no one in particular before flopping dramatically across the couch. She rolled over and threw an arm behind her head. “Princeling, what’s your thought on the ole magic situation here in Kava? Why it’s gone, if it should be recovered. You know, all that.” She gestured broadly.
Elysia’s eyes were stealthy on his reaction, but the inscrutable face of a prince stared back at Beatriz. His eyes narrowed just slightly. “Interesting questions, Beatriz, but curiosity breeds trouble in a place like Kava, doesn’t it?”
A disparaging snort came from Beatriz. “Completely shit answer. Fucking politicians, all the same.” She rolled over and slapped her legs in a mimic of the prince before springing up and eyeing Jessa with a determined lift of her brow. “Shall we, darling?”
Jessa smirked, taking a step closer. “Oh, I think we shall.”
An animal cry tore from Beatriz’s throat as both women rushed the Prince and ripped him up by his arms. He flung forward unsteadily on his feet, and was promptly driven farther along by the dual force that was Beatriz and Jessa.
“The door, Elysia, the door!”
Two steps ahead of them, Elysia, was already there swinging the door wide with an ear to ear grin. She wriggled her fingers in a wave as the prince was unceremoniously dumped outside her door as if he weighed no more than a small child. “Bye-bye then!”
She slammed the door shut on his once more stunned face and locked every single one of her ridiculous locks from Gage.
“Good riddance,” she grumbled. “Thought he’d be here all night.”
Jessa and Beatriz were already rummaging through her kitchen as if they hadn’t just tossed the crown prince out on his ass.
Jessa stuck her head out from a cupboard. “Do you really not have any gin?”
Beatriz grabbed two mugs and made a face. “She normally steals her booze from the castle. You’d think she was poor.”
Jessa paused her rummaging, looking impressed. “I wouldn’t mind a glass of stolen Crown liquor.”
Elysia ignored them both and climbed onto the counter, pulling an old decanter down from the top of the cabinetry. She handed it off to Jessa who pulled out the stopper. “You both have terrible manners. You know that, right?”
“They say when you can go right into the kitchen and make yourself at home—those are your real friends.” Beatriz nodded sagely as she bestowed this tidbit.
Elysia just raised a single eyebrow, her expression flat. Beatriz ruffled her hair as she walked past and Elysia almost fell off the counter trying to slap her hands away.
Unperturbed, Jessa poured out two mugs, cheersing with Beatriz before taking a sip. “So, where’re we doin’ this? Your bedroom?”
Elysia watched the two women swagger through her home with mugs of gin sloshing in their hands and cheeks turning rosier by the second. These were the geniuses that were supposed to watch her physical form while she took herbs powerful enough to launch her through the realms. What could possibly go wrong?
She walked into her bedroom to find Beatriz had traded her mug full of gin for the tincture. She held the large jar up to her face so that her nose smushed against the glass while the dust of herbs and plants swirled inside.
“Anything interesting in there?”
“Just grateful that I’m not the one drinking this sludge.”
Elysia played with the ties on her robe. “Yeah, yeah. I don’t think it really matters because I always end up in the same damn nightgown, but I think I’d rather get dressed, just in case. I’ve had enough people see me half naked for one day.”
Jessa’s head swung her way. “Who saw you naked?”
“I will never understand the grip that man has on you.” Beatriz set the jar back down and shook her head.
Pulling her favorite dark blue knit sweater over head and fluffing out her hair, Elysia responded. “It wasn’t like that. And from what I recall, there was a time when you and the prince were friends.”
“Youth is a mystery, Elysia. It’s best we leave its transgressions unexamined.”
Elysia sat down on the bed, rubbing her hands together nervously, and watched Triz pour out a thimbleful of the tincture with the confidence of a woman who had poured out one too many shots in her day. She stared down at the small gulp of tincture, her nose wrinkled in distaste. Dark, murky liquid stared back at her, promising to taste foul if the smell was any indication.
“Right, okay.” Elysia took the thimble and gave it another cursory sniff. It smelled like a dead animal.
The girls held out their respective mugs, and Beatriz grinned darkly. “Bottoms up, sister dear.”
All three downed their glasses, but only Elysia began to fall.
Through time, space, she didn’t know.
She could hear the river’s song, and she followed it closely until she fell harshly on the cold, damp ground.