The Prince With No Heart (11 page)

“First,” he said. “I thank you for your kind welcome. My own people could not have received me more graciously. However -” He paused to send his gaze around the crowded tables, letting his caveat sink in. “I marvel to hear you praise me for my courage and the princess only for her beauty. That she is a beauty I don’t deny, but she is no ‘jewel,’ no ‘possession’ to simply sit up here and sparkle.

“For many months, while a dangerous beast assailed her,
she
turned his wrath from you. That more of you have not suffered losses is due to her. When she could keep the monster at bay no longer, it was this tiny maid, this woman barely out of girlhood, who left to seek aid for you. Worse, she sought it alone. None of you tried to fight Bojik, nor did any brave the perils she did to find someone to rescue you. I wonder, just a little, whether you deserve to be defended by a girl as valiant as your princess.”

Silence reigned in the aftermath of his speech, jaws hanging open around the room.

“Augustin,” Violet murmured, clearly embarrassed.

Before she could object to his defense, one young man jumped to his feet at a near table. “The prince is right! We owe the princess our deepest apologies.”

Hand over heart, he threw himself to one knee more theatrically than some might say was required. Since he was shortly joined by a dozen others, Augustin forgave him. Before a hundred hearts had beaten a hundred times, every soul in the room was offering obeisance to her.

“Please,” Violet objected. “You needn’t do this. I love you all. It is my privilege to serve.”

To Augustin’s delight, not a one of her subjects stirred. Violet blushed furiously as he tugged her onto her feet. Inside, he was grinning. Outside, he bowed over her small white hand with all the chivalry he possessed.

“Your highness,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her fingers.

He didn’t mean for his lips to linger, but they did anyway. This might be the last time he clasped her hand in his.

Her fingers trembled and then grew hot. With all these people watching, she wanted him. Augustin bit back a groan at the tidal wave of lust that crashed over him. If only he could have kept her. If only he could have given her the adoring, faithful heart she deserved.

When he straightened, his vision was dangerously blurred.

“Princess,” he said, his voice throbbing, “knowing you has been an honor and a joy.”

He saw her startled hurt as he stepped past her. He knew she didn’t expect him to leave, not in the middle of a banquet, not after everything he’d just said. He couldn’t help that. He had to go while he had the strength.

I’m sorry
, he thought, ordering his feet to walk on.
If I weren’t broken, I’d stay with you forever
.

* * *

As soon as she could depart without causing comment, Violet escaped to Arnwall’s chapel. Shaking with relief and sorrow, she slipped into the second of its ten pews. Here the walls were stone-clad, the solitary stained glass window above the altar showing a kneeling warrior being knighted by his king. The king was Violet’s great grandfather, the source of her vivid hair. Faint rays of moonlight glimmered through his gold crown. He’d been a godly man, she had heard, and a fearless soldier.

Violet thought that side of him would have admired Augustin.

Her sudden sob choked her throat, the tears that followed hot and numerous. Augustin’s departure shouldn’t have caught her unprepared like this. What did she have to offer him, after all? Her kingdom was paltry when set beside the one he’d inherit. As for her, she was barely pretty, no matter what the prince was princely enough to say. If she was clever, she wasn’t clever enough to have kept Arnwall out of trouble, plus she’d treated Augustin horribly. It was ridiculous to think he’d forgive her, to hope he’d return her feelings.

Though she was sure he meant well by defending her tonight, he’d reminded her she was alone. Bojik had been right on that score. Sad as it was to admit, with her parents gone, the only person who loved her with all his being was a monster.

Her tears fell faster, her nose soon clogged. She dug in her gown’s hidden pocket for her silk handkerchief.

“Tut-tut,” said a musical voice as she covered her nose and blew. “What’s all this weeping for?”

A lovely woman sat beside her on the old pew, her beautiful flaxen hair foaming in waves to her waist. Violet was certain she hadn’t heard her come in.

“Pardon?” she croaked, hoarse from crying. “Do I know you?”

The woman smiled. “How soon you humans forget. We met in the Wailing Woods. My raven led you safely to Madrigar.”

“The fairy!” Violet exclaimed, coloring up as she remembered what she’d been doing before they met. “I thought you were old.”

“I
am
, child, compared to you.”

The fairy’s high spirits pricked Violet’s anger. “You made me hurt Augustin.”

“Did I?” The fairy tilted her lovely head. “Are you certain he’s not better off than he was before? Some people need to have a little hurt whipped in them. Only then do they discover what they’re made of.”

Violet opened her mouth to argue, then decided she’d better not. The fairy was a powerful magic being and - as Augustin himself had observed - no one had forced Violet to listen to what she’d said.

“Such a scowl!” the fairy scolded, her humor undimmed by it. “Would it make you feel better if you knew I was his fairy godmother?”

“Good Lord,” Violet burst out. “I’d hate to see what you’d do if you were his enemy.”

The fairy laughed some more, then wiped a few twinkling tears from her sea green eyes. “Fairies look at ends, my dear. Means rarely concern them. Do you remember what I promised you: that my solution would not lead you to misery?”

Violet’s response was stiffer than she intended. “Forgive me, but I cannot see as you’ve fulfilled that.”

“Only because you don’t see as far I do. You give up too soon, little girl. You haven’t walked the whole road I’ve set you on.” The fairy shook her finger, then bent to her, pressing her perfect lips to the center of Violet’s brow. Violet smelled spring flowers and heard a glissando of tiny harps. The fairy drew back, her green eyes glowing in a manner that reminded her of Bojik. Though Violet believed her to mean no harm, the fairy was more frightening than the were-wolf.

“Tell the prince Ariel sends him love,” she said.

She winked out in a burst of sparkles before Violet could respond.

“Tell him yourself,” she huffed, but she knew Ariel was right.

She could sit here pitying herself, or she could at least try to fight for her heart’s desire.

* * *

The door to the guest chamber was ajar. Candles glowed inside, so Violet supposed the prince was there. Her hands were cold, her sex uncomfortably hot. It didn’t care what sort of reception she might receive. It only knew the man who best matched its longings was near.

“Augustin?” she said, afraid to simply go in.

She heard a soft catch of breath. “Come,” said Augustin’s voice to her.

When she walked in, he wore his own dirty trousers. The clothes he’d been given to wear for the feast lay neatly folded on a chair beside the curtained four-poster bed. The prince turned to face her as if reluctant but unable to help himself. A muscle clenched in his jaw as their gazes met. His eyes were dark in the candlelight: sapphires in shadow.

“You’re leaving.” She’d known he would, but hurt still rode out with the statement.

“I must. The longer I stay, the harder it will be to go.”

Violet nodded, her lips pressed tight. At least he found it difficult - not that this did her much good. She gestured toward the formal clothes. “You don’t have to return those, though I suppose ... They must not be as nice as what you’re used to.”

“They’re fine,” he said very firmly. “Perfect. The loan of them was extremely kind.
You
are extremely kind.”

His golden brows drew together above his bladelike nose, his expression pleading for something - perhaps that she let him leave here without a scene. Violet crossed her arms underneath her breasts. “You can’t go home in nothing but those trousers. Your people will think mine are rude.”

“Then I’ll take the shirt as well, if that pleases you.”

“Augustin.”

“Violet.” He dropped his head in exasperation, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Believe me, if I could stay, I would.”

“Just tell me what pulls you home. Another woman? Another monster you need to slay?”

“No. To both.”

“Then I must have too few charms to entice you.”

She’d said it haughtily, but he didn’t react as she expected. He strode to her and took her arms, the groan that twisted from him sufficient to give her hope. His body blazed heat at her, her sex going liquid at the flush that rose up his chest. Unable to stop herself, she spread her hands across his muscled ribs. They, too, were hot as fire.

“Stay,” she said, low and humble. “Do not let it end this way between us. If ... if you’re concerned you’d be trapped into marrying me, please accept my oath that I have no such designs. You’re the only man I want to be with, but if you truly wish to go, I won’t stop you.”

“Vi-o-let,” he growled, breaking her name apart. “You shouldn’t be offering that to me.”

Maybe she shouldn’t, but she didn’t care. If she spent one night with him and no more, she would cherish it all her life. His fingers tightened painfully on her arms. Violet rose on her toes and leaned in to him.

“Let me give this night to you. Let me thank you as you deserve. Even after all I put you through, you’ve been a true friend to me.”

When he wagged his head, either denying it or disapproving, she pushed back from him. A moment was all she needed to pull the pearl-headed pins from her hair. The ankle-length red curtain fell in a silken rush. Augustin’s hiss of response was the only sound louder.

“Don’t.” His voice was ragged, his hands curling into fists.

She stepped farther out of reach, wrenching the laces of her gown hard enough to snap. Freed, she shrugged all the layers she was wearing down to her waist. The chamber’s air brushed her breasts. Augustin began to pant.

“You owe me nothing for this,” she said, wanting to be crystal clear. “My kingdom isn’t rich, but everything I am I give you freely.”

She pushed the gown from her hips, letting it fall down her legs until she stood naked in the rich pool of cloth. Her hair hung loose behind her, left free so seldom the stir of it along her back felt strange. Augustin’s gazed burned down her and up again, his chest rising and falling as swiftly as if he’d been running. He pressed one fist to his breastbone as if it hurt.

She imagined his cock was hurting. As his gaze fastened on her nipples, its arch pushed out his trousers like he had a tree branch in there.

“I dreamed this,” he said so low it gave her chills. “I dreamed of you in nothing but your hair.”

“If you tell me more dreams, I’ll try to make them come true.

He shuddered. And swallowed. A wet spot appeared on the strained front of his trousers, no bigger than a penny but spreading. His prick was weeping for her. Her own body jerked with longing, a sympathetic trickle rolling from her labia.

“Violet,” he rasped, finally meeting her eyes again. “Please God, Violet,
shut the door
.”

She’d forgotten it was ajar. Startled, she turned to push it completely shut.

The instant the iron latch clicked, his weight slammed her against the wood. His teeth nipped the tender back of her neck, his hands shoving up her front to clutch a pulsing breast in each palm. He was a big man, much taller and heavier than she. With muscles honed from at least a decade of fighting monsters, he had no trouble making her feel more helpless than she could have predicted she’d enjoy. He bent his knees and splayed them to even up their heights. When he ground a circle with his huge erection over her naked rear, another gush of cream squeezed from her.

“My God,” he growled, hot against her nape. “Violet, you drive me insane.”

He pushed the iron ridge in his trousers between her cheeks, squashing her slighter body into the wooden door. This was shockingly exciting, but not what she wanted most. She struggled to twist around.

“Please,” she said when she found his weight wouldn’t let her move.

Maybe he understood, or maybe he thought she was trying to escape and could not bear it. Either way, he eased back only enough for her to turn. Once she had, he caught her face in both hands, dropping his head to seal their mouths together in a blistering, lengthy kiss.

Violet doubted any kiss in the history of kissing had been this blatantly sexual. He penetrated her with his tongue, laying claim to every inch inside. He stroked her palate with the sleek sharpened tip. He rubbed the sides of their tongues together as if they were lower parts. He sucked her tongue into his mouth and moaned his ecstasy down her throat. When Violet sank her teeth into his lower lip and tugged, a tantalizing quiver shook the length of his spine.

“Vixen,” he whispered, blue eyes agleam as his hands took her face more firmly.

He didn’t seem disapproving. He seemed aroused. She thought he’d start up the kiss again, maybe more deeply. To her amazement, he screwed his eyes shut and stepped determinedly back from her.

“What is it?” she asked, rendered so breathless by his kiss that she wasn’t sure he could hear. “Why do you stop?”

Augustin sighed and opened his eyes. His expression was more serious than she could view happily.

“Violet,” he said, “as much as I’d love to accept your ... truly stunning offer, there’s something you need to know about me first.”

“Yes?” Violet said. Seeing that whatever it was was difficult for him to speak of, she laid her fingertips very gently atop his diaphragm. It jerked with the ragged breath he drew in.

“Violet, I have no heart.”

“No heart!” He frowned at her, so perhaps she shouldn’t have sounded so disbelieving. “Augustin, I don’t see how that’s possible.”

* * *

Of course she didn’t believe him. A person couldn’t walk around without an actual heart. Sadly, he knew too well there was more to that organ than a beating bundle of muscle.