Kiss of the Goblin Prince (16 page)

A couple of blocks up, Dai reached the shops. Two streets had been closed to traffic to create a pedestrian mall. Most of the stores were for clothes with a few coffee shops scattered among them, but he passed them in search of books.

The idea that a whole shop could be devoted to books was decadent considering that when he was born, none of his tribe could read. Druids had learned their craft and committed it to memory. When the Romans had arrived they’d brought their writing with them. It wasn’t hard to learn.

Roan struggled, but they had years to waste in the Shadowlands so it hadn’t mattered. Learning to read and write was the one good thing that had come out of being the general’s pet. Knowledge was power. Power meant he was no one’s slave. His lips twitched in an almost smile. He was free.

So why did he feel like he was always looking over his shoulder, waiting for his past to catch up with him? Because he could never tell Amanda the truth, and it would always be between them no matter what he did or didn’t do. It would be forever lurking, waiting for an opportunity to strike. But the idea of bringing it into the light was too terrifying.

He went into the first bookstore he found and browsed the shelves. Out of curiosity and a little bit of hope he scanned the titles in the incorrectly named New Age section. There were plenty of books claiming to be about magic, but none held any real magic. There were books of spells, which if the right thought was applied could produce results, as a spell was just a focus for the magic the same way a prayer helped the follower focus his faith.

Divination was popular and probably still as inaccurate as it was in his day. Very few people could accurately predict the future, and those who could usually went mad, or gave their answers in riddles no one could decipher—not even with centuries to waste.

He gave up trying to find something that would help him get a better control over the Fixed Realm magic and instead went to look at the fiction books. There was plenty of magic in them. He’d read to escape the Shadowlands. In books, people succeeded, they beat the gods, broke curses, and defeated mythical beasts. There was a speck of truth in many of the old myths. He picked up a book about the son of a Greek god.

Guess he was one of those myths now, a tale two thousand years in the making.

“Can I help you?” A dark-haired woman smiled as her gaze slid from his eyes to the toes of his boots and back up.

Dai shifted uncomfortably. “Um.” He had been enjoying wandering around instead of skulking in the shadows. “Just browsing.”

“Okay, but if you need some help you only have to ask.” The sales assistant paused a moment before turning away.

He walked along a few more aisles filled with history, languages and warfare before finding something that might be useful. Self-help was full of books on everything that could possibly bother a person, including three titles on dating. He knew he had issues, but did everyone? Amanda did, but that was because she’d had her heart broken when her husband had died. He wanted to be the one to put it back together, but to do that, he had to sort himself out first, and there was no book written for recovering ex-slaves who’d spent the best part of two thousand years in the Shadowlands.

He knew Amanda was interested. But as much as he liked the idea of seeing her naked, the reality was it wasn’t going to happen. She might smile at him, but once she saw under his clothes…he wasn’t ready for that kind of scrutiny. No one had seen his scars except him and a handful of witch doctors, wise women, sorcerers, and one dragon who’d offered to eat him when he was ready to die.

He’d outlived the dragon. Returning to her lair and finding her bones turned to stone was painful. He’d never expected to see her die. They’d had many conversations about hoarding, magic, and humans. But not even she knew half his life story. That was for him alone. Not every story should be told.

The books closed in around him. He was surrounded and he didn’t know what to get. Once he would have taken everything in case he needed it later. Now the words were empty. Their promises hollow. There was nothing in these books to help him. He’d rather face the Roman army empty-handed than show Amanda his scars.

The corner of his lips curved. What he needed was a book on conquering fear.

He checked the titles again and found several, including one written by an ex-soldier—war he understood, so he selected that one, plus one on insomnia.

The tension between his shoulder blades eased. Books never failed him; he just had to know what he was looking for. He took his reference books, plus the novel about Zeus’ son, and went to the register.

The sales assistant rang up the total, and he pulled out his wallet, realized he no longer had any cash, so he pulled out his credit card. Roan and he had spent their first day free arguing as only brothers could. Roan thought the name King was as much his as Dai’s because the same blood ran through them. In the end it was concede or tell Roan the things that had gone on behind his back.

He forced his hand to sign, but it was still stiff and unnatural. The woman made a quick check between card and paper. To Dai’s eye they didn’t match—one signature a scrawl made in anger to stop a fight, and the other one that hadn’t been used enough to look natural. But she smiled as she handed the card back.

“Do you know where I could buy bookshelves?”

“You could try the department store over at the mall.” She handed him the bag of books.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Dai strolled over to the multi-story shop. They wouldn’t have the kind of shelves he was used to—antiques polished from years of use. He should’ve brought them from the Shadowlands along with the books. They’d be wasted on the goblins. Still, any shelves were better than no shelves.

Two hours later he had a set of shelves assembled and in place. They were pale and flimsy. He crossed his arms and looked at them. They weren’t even real timber, just a laminate. They certainly weren’t sturdy enough to take his entire collection. He’d replace them later, when he found something more suitable, but they’d do for a time. He unpacked his purchases and put them on the top shelf.

That looked worse.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had so few books. Maybe he should go back and buy some more just to fill up the space. He shook his head. He’d need the room when Birch gave back his books. The more he thought about it, the more he thought Roan had a point. There was no magic in the world anymore; he frowned. Maybe it died with the last dragon, or maybe she died when magic was replaced with science. If Birch thought that he wouldn’t do magic just because he didn’t have his books, they were wrong. And if they thought he’d give up, they were going to be unpleasantly surprised. He’d ring them today…he’d have to get a phone first. Damn it. He’d pay them a visit. They couldn’t be that hard to find; even though he didn’t have their address, he’d never had a problem locating a branch as a goblin.

His front door buzzed and jolted him out of his book dilemma.

Dai pressed the intercom. No one knew he lived here, so who would come looking? Hopefully not the real estate agent. “Hello?”

“Come downstairs and help me with the boxes.” Roan’s voice came through with a metallic edge. Of course, he’d taken the call from the agent and had no doubt extracted as much information as he could from her.

“Boxes?” He didn’t need boxes. He glanced at the bookshelf and with a thought sent the books into the cupboard in the kitchen. He didn’t want Roan checking the titles.

“Hurry up. Eliza’s in a loading zone.”

Dai clenched his jaw and went downstairs. Whatever Roan did, he no doubt thought he was helping. Eliza’s car was parked out front of the building with a trailer on the back, loaded with ready-to-assemble furniture. Eliza waved from the car. Dai forced a smile and waved back. The house was about to be full of things he didn’t need.

“You left so early this morning I didn’t get a chance to talk to you.” Roan handed him a box taller than he was. “We should have this done in a couple of trips.”

“You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”

“I knew you wouldn’t.” Roan thrust another box at him. “Have you bought any furniture?”

“Yes.” Did Roan think he was incapable of living in the Fixed Realm?

“Really?” Roan hefted a couple of boxes and they went inside.

“See for yourself,” Dai said as he pressed the button in the elevator.

In his apartment they put the boxes on the floor.

Roan looked at the empty shelves and shook his head as if he were gravely disappointed. “You bought bookshelves.”

“It’s furniture.” It was his house and he didn’t have to please anyone except himself.

“It’s not how it’s done. This isn’t how people live.”

“I’m not expecting company.”

“You have nowhere to eat, to sit…and what are you going to sleep on? The air mattress forever?”

Dai shrugged. Better that than the furniture Roan had bought to clutter up his house.

They made a couple more trips to the car in silence then moved the boxes into the correct rooms.

One bedroom he left empty on purpose. He didn’t want every space filled. Without speaking, they started assembling the bed. Then they moved onto the bedside tables. All the while Dai could see Roan running through the options of how best to get answers to his questions without starting a fight.

“I know this isn’t what we’re used to. I thought you could replace it when you find pieces you really like.”

Their caves in the Shadowlands were furnished with stolen items from castles, items that had become antiques. Things that couldn’t be replaced. He didn’t care what they were worth; he liked them because they were beautiful and built to last for centuries.

“I left them in the Shadowlands.” Regret was starting to creep in. If he’d expected to outlive the curse, he would’ve brought them. Then he’d be surrounded by familiar furniture. He was starting to miss the place—no, not the place, but the life he acquired there. He understood it, knew what was expected of him, and knew how to survive.

Roan frowned and put down the sheet of instructions. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“The English instructions are on the other side.”

Roan flipped over the paper, not that it mattered when the pictures were self-explanatory. “About last night.”

“I won’t crash the house again. I’ll knock first.”

“That’s not it. You looked wrecked.”

He had been wrecked and unable to take another step. “Beer and magic don’t mix.”

“You’re not going to give up the magic, are you?” Roan crossed his arms. A sure sign he wasn’t going to concede his anti-magic position.

“I can’t. It’s part of me.” Dai ripped open a bag of screws and unpacked the pieces of wood. “Watch this.”

Ignoring Roan’s scowl, Dai put together an image of the finished bedside table in his mind. As he did that, the pieces of wood began pulling themselves together like metal to a magnet. The screws fell into place. And the table formed.

His brother stood, his lips pressed tight. “Are you sure this isn’t Shadowlands magic?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I can see how things are put together.”

“So can I, but I can’t make them dance like a scene from
Fantasia
.”

“I can see how things are made. How they fit in the fabric which makes the world. All those texts and the knowledge. It makes sense now.”

“I knew all that study wasn’t a good idea.”

“That learning kept me alive.” The air between them shook with static. “It kept me sane and it kept me human.” He’d had a purpose and reason to live when he should’ve quit and given into the curse.

“This,” Roan pointed at the table, “isn’t human.”

“Well it sure as hell isn’t goblin. So what does it make me?”

Roan didn’t answer.

“All those people we sought help from. They could do magic. I’ve had the benefit of millennia of study.”

“Why couldn’t you break the curse? Why did you do nothing?”

Dai shook his head. How could Roan not understand? “Because I couldn’t. It wasn’t my curse to break. I could see how enmeshed you were in the Shadowlands. But I couldn’t find a way to separate you without killing you…it’s why you needed Eliza. She replaced the Shadowlands.”

Roan looked away, but not before Dai saw the uncertainty and distrust. Magic caused the curse. And while Roan had used magic in the Shadowlands, it was for survival. Dai wasn’t using magic to survive; he was using it because he could.

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“So don’t use it.”

Dai laughed, his hair falling around his face as he stared at the floor. He sighed and raised his gaze. “You know better than me about the lure, the temptation.”

“What will you become?”

Dai spread his arms. “A hermit in a tower.”

“I spent too long trying to break the curse and get my men back. All so you could have a life. You don’t get to opt out.”

“You’re not my king anymore. I’m a free man.”

Roan grunted and picked up the instructions, flicked the paper once, and went back to assembling the other bedside table.