The Outcast Prince (5 page)

“Shea ap Greely.”

“And who the hell is he?” Caspian rounded on Dylis.

Dylis cast her gaze over the damaged cups as if debating how much to tell him. With a muttered curse she sat on the counter. “The ripples in the river of souls were caused by the Queen’s not-so-subtle affair with Shea.”

Now he was getting the full story out of Dylis instead of a hint designed to spike his curiosity. “And he got banished for it while she still gets to be Queen.”

Dylis nodded. “Annwyn needs both King and Queen.”

Caspian’s jaw tensed. “So she gets away with cheating.”

“Don’t put your values on us. She and the King have both had lovers. When you live as long as we do, being faithful literally is an eternity. What matters is love. The very idea of sharing power is enough to make most of us swear off the very mortal affliction.” Dylis glittered with fury as if all her power was trying to burst out of the tiny body she chose to wear in the mortal world. “Shea stole her heart from the King.”

The Queen was no longer in love with the King; she was in love with Shea. That was what caused the ripples on the river of damned souls. Caspian didn’t want to be caught in a power struggle between the King of Annwyn, the Queen, and her lover. No wonder the Prince was concerned. There was no way that was going to end well for anyone.

A sigh slipped past his lips. If the river broke its banks, there would be plague the likes of which the world hadn’t seen since the Black Death.

A squabble and a hundred died.

A fight and thousands died.

If the King and Queen separated, the world was fucked.

“Finding the mirror will calm the river?” While he could turn his back on fairy politics, he couldn’t walk away when their bickering bled through and started killing humans.

“It will help.”

He nodded. “And where were you while Shea was trying to trick me? I thought you were supposed to help me with this stuff.”

“I saw no reason to reveal myself,” Dylis said. “You obeyed the rules. If you’d done something stupidly human, I’d have stepped in.”

He considered the beautiful and annoying fairy and how little he knew about her. How little she told. “Shea knows you, that’s why you hid.” It was a bold assumption, but maybe she’d reveal something

“Everyone at Court knows everyone worth knowing.”

Getting a straight answer from her was going to be like pulling out his own teeth. But she obviously had some standing when she was at Court. What a comedown it must be to spend time with him. “What do you know about the Window?”

It certainly wasn’t the one he’d bought, but had that been bait laid out by Shea? A chance to watch and see what he was capable of? If it had been, he’d fallen for it.

He watched Dylis carefully; she’d been the one to alert him to the Window’s existence, and the probability that it was in Charleston. She could be on Shea’s side. And Shea’s side wasn’t the King’s side. And while he may not be fairy, he knew which side he was on and it wasn’t with a fairy banished for sleeping with another man’s wife.

“Nothing more than I’ve already told you.” That sounded like the truth. “I’ll have to ask some careful questions. The Queen will have supporters and spies. And I’ll need to let your father know Shea is actively looking for it.”

“You do that.” The words were harsher than he intended. He sighed. If Annwyn was in trouble, Dylis was right—whatever side she was on she was in danger. “Take care at Court.”

“I always do.” She stood and gave a half-bow. And then she was gone.

***

As a precaution Caspian took the enchanted mirror to work with him. He didn’t want it in his house attracting anymore Greys. While it had seemed like a good idea at the time, after spending several hours in its company all he wanted to do was throw back its covering and gaze at the Court. He found things to do to keep himself busy and distracted. He prepped the till even though most people paid with credit. Gave everything a dust. Just because the furniture was old didn’t mean it had to look like it came straight out of a museum. People had to be able to picture the Victorian armchair in their house and the art deco vase on their sideboard.

He paused at the china. He desperately needed a new tea set to woo back the Brownies. While he had some beautiful pieces in the shop, he had no children’s sets. He’d have to stop by a toy store and hope for a china set. If he didn’t get something today they wouldn’t be happy and might disappear altogether—if they hadn’t already.

The music of the Court filtered through his shop at the edge of his hearing. He couldn’t sell the mirror as it was, it was too dangerous for anyone with a touch of fairy blood, and he couldn’t keep it for the same reason. He should have known the bargain was too good to be true.

With careful footsteps, Caspian made sure he didn’t follow the beat, no matter how tempting. That would be the first step in falling into the lure of the Court. He pulled a screwdriver out from under the counter and walked out the back. The mirror lay on the workbench still wrapped from being transported to the shop.

His fingers tightened around the plastic screwdriver handle even as he wanted to pull back the wrapping with his free hand and peek into Annwyn again. Before he could do something stupid, he slammed the screwdriver into the center of the mirror.

Glass cracked and for a second he smelled heady floral perfume like a garden in full bloom. Then it was gone and so was the music that had taunted him. Caspian swallowed down the sudden sense of loss. With his next breath he knew the threat was gone and he was free of the desire to see the Court once more.

He peeled back the wrapping to examine the damage. He’d devalued an antique as well as broke the enchantment. The old glass cut his reflection into pointed shards. Pale green fairy eyes looked back. But at least they were his own eyes.

But what about the mirror Shea wanted? Would he have the strength to shatter that one when the time came? And even if he did, what would be the price?

Caspian pulled into the long drive of Callaway House at dusk. In the fading light, the dark house almost looked forbidding. Yet he was eager to get inside. Eager to see Lydia.

He locked the car and knocked on the door, a faint echo of laughter lingering beneath his fingers. He couldn’t help himself from looking over his shoulder. Were there any banished fairies living in the graveyard down the road, or following him? How far did Shea’s power reach?

He shivered. People who couldn’t see fairies didn’t know how easy they had it.

The door opened and Lydia stood limned by light. Dressed simply in skinny jeans that showed off her long legs, ballet flats, and a shirt that hung down to her hips, she looked like she was dressed for a casual evening in. The jolt of raw attraction caught him off guard. He’d been expecting corporate Lydia. Not sexy-stay-at-home Lydia.

Caspian blinked to break the spell she’d cast. This wasn’t her house, nothing he’d touched had indicated she lived here, and it sure as hell wasn’t a date. Would it be wrong to ask her out for dinner? He should’ve grabbed something on the way over, but he was already late.

She smiled and stood to the side to let him in. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“I, er, lost my keys.” Caspian stood on the step, unwilling to push past in case he touched her and slid into the enchantment she didn’t know she was casting. Bewitching. Lydia wasn’t fairy; her power was far more potent.

She raised her eyebrows. “You don’t seem like the disorganized type.”

“I’m not usually.”
Get
a
grip. She’s not interested in you.
But she held his gaze for a moment too long for him to believe the lie he was telling himself.

“Ah.” She nodded. “And I thought you were immune to Callaway House.” Her lips curved in a small smile that made his chest constrict.

Caspian glanced down for a second and tried to find something to say. He didn’t want her thinking he was flustered by the house’s history; that would be worse than letting her think she affected him. He met her dark gaze. Chocolate brown, a color no fairy would have, yet no less mesmerizing. “It’s not the house.”

That was probably the wrong thing to say. He’d never been good at these things. Even Natalie had thought him eccentric, something she’d found endearing at first.

Her eyes widened for a second so fast he could’ve imagined it. “Come in.”

He followed her into the hallway and was once again surrounded by the weight of history. This house had lived even before it had stopped being a family home. The Callaway name had once been respected. Rumors of gambling debts followed by the gradual fall from grace had tainted the name. He spent some time earlier doing a bit more basic research. Sometimes using the computer was easier than sifting through years of history—plus he didn’t always get the full story by touch.

She closed the door, giving him a view of her butt. At least when she was in a suit and being cool or upset he could ignore the attraction that kept rising up. Now he could almost taste it in the air. If he’d met her anywhere else… he’d have done nothing because he’d have been too afraid to start anything because he knew where it would end up. He couldn’t handle that again.

Keep
it
professional.
“So, where did you want me to start?”

Lydia was studying him as if searching for something. If she looked too closely, would she realize that he wasn’t quite human? And if she did, that flicker of desire would die.

“Someone released the details of Gran’s death to the media.” Her gaze never left him, and he knew this was a test. She suspected him.

“I heard the news. I understand why you’d want to keep it quiet.” Again he was grateful that his life and troubles had all remained very private.

She nodded. “It wasn’t you.”

“No. I don’t divulge details; it’s not good for business.” Neither was standing around chatting. If he hadn’t been here for work, he’d have gladly spent hours talking to Lydia about anything and everything. It had been a long time since he’d felt at ease around someone—not enough to be himself and tell all, but enough to relax a little and enjoy her company. If he let himself slide down that path he could almost picture himself sharing the details about his life that he’d never told anyone. He’d vowed to be honest next time. To not get into a relationship without at least mentioning the psychometry… it was best for everyone that he never mentioned fairies.

She smoothed her hands over her thighs in a move that drew his gaze for longer than it should have. “You’re all about business?”

“I run my own, it’s only me, so yeah, it takes up a lot of time. But I like it. It’s interesting to find out when a piece was made and working out what it’s worth.” His work had stopped him from drifting after Natalie. He’d thrown himself into it, partly out of necessity as he’d needed to eat and get another house, and partly because it was familiar and something he could control.

Now was the moment to explain how he worked and to see how she’s react, before he let himself get too caught up in the idea of asking her out or thinking she’d accept. He looked at her and the way her lips curved, inviting and tempting, and the words that he should say failed to form. Asking her to believe in psychometry was as bad as asking her to believe he was a changeling prince.

“Every day something new to explore?”

He’d never thought of it that way. “Yeah… except for the paperwork.”

She laughed, and warmth filled her eyes as if she was seeing him in a new light. “I think Gran would’ve liked you.”

The tension in his shoulders eased and he smiled. He’d passed whatever test she’d set, even as he failed his own. The longer he went without telling her of his gift, the harder it would become to reveal. “Thank you.”

He meant it; it felt like he was one step closer to Lydia seeing him as something other than the vulture valuing her grandmother’s things. Small steps; after all, they weren’t even dating. Maybe family secrets could wait until after the job was finished. Except in his heart he knew that would be too late. She would look back at this time and know he’d kept things from her. Would she even want to know the things he saw? He didn’t half the time.

Lydia put her hand on his arm. “She might have even let you into a party.” She sighed. “It’s nice to talk about her without the slurs that usually follow.”

“It’s nice to hear more about her, the real woman, not the spin.” Her hand was warm against him, the heat seeping through his shirt. The simple touch was a reminder of the human contact he’d shunned. A shimmer of desire slid over his skin. It would be very easy to fall and not think about the landing. Too easy. And he knew how destructive and devastating the impact could be.

For a moment she just looked at him as if not sure what to make of him. Her eyes darkened, inviting trouble. Then she grinned. “You’re something different, Caspian.”

Yes he was, and it was a good thing she didn’t know how different.

***

Felan leaned against a tree in the cemetery. Above him the branches swept toward the sky, muttering softly. But he wasn’t here for the whisperings of trees, or to enjoy the mortal world; he was waiting for someone.

The shrubs to his left gave a rustle and then a small fairy in dull clothing appeared, the exiled fairy he’d assigned to watch his son’s house. The fairy bowed low as was proper when greeting the Crown Prince of Annwyn.

Felan inclined his head. “Full stature, I don’t wish to stoop.”

Once he and Chalmer had drank and gambled together. Now it was more than the veil that separated them. Yet he still trusted the fairy. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have sent him to his son’s house to be Caspian’s Brownie.

“Your Highness, thank you for agreeing to meet your most humble servant at such short notice.” The man gave another slight bow that put Felan on edge. Chalmer didn’t bring good news and was afraid… yet not so afraid that he wouldn’t spill.

“I don’t have long.” He had other meetings tonight and he didn’t want to be seen talking to Chalmer; it would start rumors he could ill afford.

While he’d told Chalmer to attend the changeling, he hadn’t said why. He’d done everything he could to ensure Caspian’s safety after allowing him to be born in the mortal world. A lump formed in his throat that was very un-prince like, and more like that of a father who hadn’t seen his son in thirty-five mortal years. He couldn’t.

His fingers curled as if remembering the feel of the tiny babe in his arms. Just the once he’d held his son and kissed his downy hair. That was all he’d allowed himself—any more and his son would be in danger. He knew Caspian would grow up in a loving family; he’d seen their joy and had known he’d made the right decision. From what he’d heard, Caspian was everything a father could want in a son—except the mortal part.

The Brownie inclined his head. “The changeling was recently visited by a banished lord, my Prince, Shea ap Greely. I thought you’d want to know, given recent events.”

“Why does this concern me?” For how much longer would the secret of Caspian’s linage be safe?

“Lord Greely is looking for something called the Window. He was… ah,” Chalmer glanced at Felan before finding the right word, “quite insistent.”

Felan drew in a breath. Had his son betrayed his family? “And did the changeling make a deal?”

“No, Prince. The lord was not happy. He broke the ritual spread, forcing my family to leave, as is proper.”

“Hmm. Thank you for your information; it was most useful.” And most troubling. He’d heard the murmurs between the measures of music and knew that Shea and the Queen were planning something. He’d hoped to have the Window by now, but it appeared to have vanished. If Shea wanted it, it meant he planned to sneak back into Annwyn and cause more trouble. Felan needed the Window, not only to protect his father from the bitterness of the Queen, but also to protect himself.

The Brownie bowed again and hesitated as if not sure if he should leave. “I am ever your loyal servant, Prince.”

“I know, Chalmer.” Felan glanced at the lord who’d been reduced to a Brownie. The gambling debt had been a setup, Felan was sure of it, but that didn’t change the fact that Chalmer needed to pay a penalty. “What is it that you desire?”

“I’m concerned for my family when the power shifts.”

Felan nodded. Many were petitioning the King to lift their exile. They could see the King’s rule was ending and no one wanted to be on the wrong side of the veil when the power of Annwyn shifted from father to son. Those caught in the mortal world would die. “Your daughter is fairy?”

“Yes, Prince. Taryn merch Arlea.” Chalmer used his daughter’s full name to confirm her linage, and make clear he’d broken none of his exile conditions. Taryn was his wife’s child.

“Send her to Court before the vanishing of the moon. For the moment it is all I can do.” At least she would be safe.

Chalmer sighed and looked at the ground as if he had expected more.

“I’m sorry, but the King is issuing no pardons.” He knew his father hadn’t forgiven Arlea for choosing love over duty to her King.

“I understand.” Chalmer bowed, but Felan still saw the disappointment.

If he’d had the power he would have undone the exile, but he didn’t. The first thing he had to do was stop Shea before he could even start making plans for his own takeover. “I will deal with Shea, you stay with the changeling.”

Chalmer hesitated. “And the spread?”

Once broken that was usually the end of the relationship. “The changeling will receive a suitable setting. Report back if Shea returns.”

Chalmer nodded. “An honor serving you, my Prince.” He bowed again then disappeared into the now dark garden.

Felan pressed his lips together. Things were more dire than he’d thought. That Shea even knew about the Window was bad. Did this mean that the Queen had the Counter-Window? It didn’t matter who had it. As long as the other piece of the portal was in Annwyn, Shea could get through. He needed to find the Counter-Window, fast.

***

With Caspian there, it was easier to start sorting through Gran’s things. Lydia had made several attempts over the past few weeks, but each time she had been unable to do much more than cry and then go home. Today felt different. Maybe it was because she knew she wouldn’t cry in front of him, or maybe it was because she was able to talk about Gran. It was just nice to be in the house and feel like she could breathe again without being crushed by loss.

She wanted to know more about him but wasn’t sure how to start without seeming obvious. It was easy to talk about Gran and the house, but harder to ask questions that would reveal a little more about him, like where he grew up, did he always want to work around antiques, and what films did he like? Initial attraction didn’t always last once the real person was discovered.

Lydia looked at the pictures hanging on the wall. A mismatched collection of frames and images that had been tacked up to form a collage of Gran’s life. Some were black and white, others more recent. And while some were family pictures, including one that she assumed was her mother as a toddler, many were of people she didn’t know. Artists maybe? Friends? Should she pack them away? If she was going to sell the house, it would be better to have all personal items removed—she didn’t want strangers stopping and gawking.

“Do you need these?” She turned to Caspian.

Caspian glanced up at her from his laptop. “I’ll have a quick look at the frames, but probably not.”

He walked over, graceful as if he were at ease in a strange house. Her heart lifted as he drew close and she glanced away. There was something eye-catching about him, yet he didn’t act like a man who knew he was good-looking. He paused to examine each picture on the wall. Then he actually stopped; he was staring at one in particular.

“Found something?”

He tore his gaze away and looked at her. “Do you know who this is?”

She looked at the picture of a young man with a guitar. He was smiling, his pale eyes and sharp cheekbones making him look more like a model. He was almost too pretty in his flares and waistcoat. The clothing gave her an indication of the era, but other than that she had no idea. “Probably just one of the musicians who came here.”