“No. Your hair is too pretty. No flower wreaths adorning your hair. Maybe little sections dyed blue, pink, purple, and braided. And your clothes: what do the women wear whom he takes notice of?”
“Corseted gowns, the lower the cut, the better.” Tanya sighed.
“Not your style.” Sigrid transported her to the back alley of the beauty salon where Kayla had been made over before the dragon games.
“Which is just the point,” Tanya said.
“I can see you hiding behind others or wearing a shawl. Listen, he looks at the other women who are flaunting themselves because they wear clothes like that on purpose. It doesn’t mean he’s interested in courting any of them. Have you ever seen him with one of the ladies? Like on a date?”
“No.”
“See?”
“He never even sees me.”
“Rather than change your looks to make him notice you, when it isn’t you, why don’t you just do something annoying instead? We were trying to hide who Kayla was, not catch Alton’s attention. Quite the opposite. And look what happened between them. There’s a spring social coming up. Take advantage of it. Go to it and bump into Shane, or something.”
“Bump into him.” Tanya looked like she didn’t get the point.
“Spill a drink on him. Or run into him. Ask him to dance. I don’t know. Just get bold. And if he’s not interested, no big loss. It’s his loss, truly.”
“So no hairstyling?”
They looked at the pictures in the window. “Too human. Come on. Let’s learn why these guys were sneaking around my cottage. We might get ourselves killed and then you won’t have to worry about Shane any longer.”
Tanya frowned at her.
Sigrid shrugged. She was serious.
2
Owen knew this could be a big mistake. One that could cost him and his cousins their lives. Yet, they’d botched the whole thing already. Sigrid had already flown the coop. When they’d seen her friend coming to visit her, they’d lost the chance to take the other woman hostage to draw Sigrid out.
What choice did he have, really? He’d lost his own powers, through his own fault, and the only way they could defeat their enemies was to find a fae as powerful as Owen was—or had been, or…believed he had been—when he still had his powers.
At least that’s what his father, King Yarrow, had said about Sigrid—that she could save their kingdom. But Owen knew how simple tales of heroism could turn into extraordinary legends. Even his grandfather’s fight against hers had been written into the history books. At least their history books. Both were powerful magic users, but his grandfather was even more so than hers. Which made Owen wonder if she really could be more powerful than him. Well, when he’d had use of his abilities.
Owen didn’t really believe she could have forced a whole army to retreat, unless she proved to him that she was just that powerful. Though, even asking her to prove her abilities could be his undoing.
“What do we do now?” Connelly asked, sitting on one of the woman’s benches in the flower garden, smelling a red rose he’d cut off from one of her rosebushes.
“Do you know how ridiculous you look right now?” Tarrant asked.
Owen looked in the direction she’d flown, noting she hadn’t left any fae dust trail behind. And neither had her friend. So, he couldn’t track them. “We can’t leave without her. Our kingdom depends on her power to help us win this war.”
“Not to mention you’re fascinated with the notion another falcon fae has magic powers, that could be even greater than your own.” Tarrant folded his arms across his chest.
“She could kill us where we stand,” Connelly said.
Everyone looked down at him.
“Or where you stand and I sit. Take a load off. She might not return for days, if she’s afraid we’re going to take her hostage.”
“She didn’t call the golden fae’s troops to come rescue her, did you notice?” Tarrant glanced in the direction of the castle, though they couldn’t see it for the forest.
“She wouldn’t need to. She’s a great and powerful magic user.” Owen let out his breath and walked across the stone path to peer through the open window. Then he climbed in through the window. Maybe she had something in her potions he could use to knock her out so they could take her home with them and try to convince her they needed her there, without the interference of the golden fae queen.
Tarrant opened the front door and gave Owen a dark smile. “It was unlocked.”
Connelly laughed from the garden.
Not amused, Owen began looking at her herbs and spices, and potions and teas in jars on a shelf, all neatly labeled, that covered one wall.
Tarrant joined him and lifted a blue ceramic jar. “Sleeping potion. If you could get close enough to her, you could use it on her and voila, our troubles would be over.”
“Or just beginning.” If she was anything like her grandfather, and her grandmother had told her a tale about what had happened, Owen was certain Sigrid would fight them every step of the way. He just had to convince her…of what? That she couldn’t live without him? His kingdom? Her people? After his grandfather killed her grandfather and her grandmother had to flee in the middle of the night with an infant swaddled in one arm and holding onto a toddler in her other, why would she feel any obligation to save them from their enemies? His family was just as much an “enemy” to her.
If it hadn’t been for Sigrid’s grandmother’s powerful magic, the children and the baby’s mother would most likely have perished. For the longest time, his father and grandfather believed they had. A dragon fae shifter passing through their region and stopping at their castle for a respite, had brought them the news about a falcon fae living among the golden fae who had magical abilities. And that she was the one who had won the war against the griffin fae, singlehandedly.
Of course, the news coincided with Owen’s losing his powers, and he didn’t like the coincidence. But that’s when Owen’s father wanted her found and brought to the kingdom at once. Under lock and key, if necessary.
If she agreed to work for his father, would he take her under his wing and send Owen out into the cold? Owen thought he might, once he had lost his own abilities and if he couldn’t get them back. His father might feel he was worthless. Everyone had to be worth their weight in gold, or his father didn’t have any use for them. Kinship didn’t mean a whole lot to him. He learned that first hand when his father banished Owen’s aunt, the king’s own sister, when she didn’t do as he wished—marry a prince from another kingdom whom she despised.
“She’s—” Connelly shouted from outside the cottage, still in the garden, but he never finished what he was going to say.
Chills raced across Owen’s skin. He feared Sigrid had unexpectedly returned and his cousin was dead at the hands of the powerful falcon fae.
Tarrant raced for the door, but it slammed shut and so did the window. He stepped away from the door and unsheathed his sword.
“You won’t be able to use that against her,” Owen said. “Besides, we need her alive and uninjured.”
“And Connelly?” Tarrant growled.
“We knew the price we could pay in coming here.” Not that Owen wasn’t upset about what had happened to Connelly, but he couldn’t worry about that right now. He and Tarrant were both in danger themselves. He grabbed the jar of sleeping potion and pulled out the cork stopper.
Tarrant turned to scowl at Owen. “How do you think you’re going to use that on her?”
The window flew open, and so did the door, both at the same time. No one stood at the door or window. Child’s magic. Yet, Owen couldn’t help feeling uneasy.
Owen put the stopper back on the jar and set it on the shelf. “We come in peace! I’m Prince Owen of the falcon fae kingdom of Raymore. Where you are from.”
The falcon fae stepped into the cottage, her hands held up in a way that meant she could use any number of powerful spells on him, and he’d be eliminated right on the sp
ot, or maybe turned into a creepy-crawly thing and live out the rest of his days that way. She was a beautiful fae, dressed in a black leather corset, laced up to her neck, and a long skirt that had tight pants for riding and fighting, and black leather boots. Her hair was dark brown and shoulder length, shiny and adorned with black feathers. Brown and orange and burgundy-colored wings were on full display, making her look like she was trying to show off her power, or her beauty. He hadn’t expected her to be so pretty, when she could be so deadly.
“And the other one sitting in my garden?” she asked. “Who is he and had he come in peace too?” Her voice had a pleasant sound to it, even though he could hear the undercurrent of annoyance in her tone.
“My cousin Prince Connelly, and this is my other cousin, his brother, Tarrant.”
“You could not have asked for my help in the first place? Instead, you were sneaking around, attempting to take me by force, armed with iron netting? And swords?”
“You know traveling without swords as royals can be a dangerous venture,” Owen said. At least that part was easy to explain.
“And the netting?” She arched a dark brow.
“My mistake,” Owen admitted readily. His iron net was draped over a chair, and Connelly’s net was outside with him. Tarrant’s rested in a pile of linked chain on top of the kitchen table. Owen doubted any of them could reach their nets to keep her from transporting before she stopped them. Not that she could probably transport inside the cottage anyway. The nets were infused with magic that would inhibit a magic user from casting a spell, which was why it was imperative that they cover her with one of them, if they were to protect themselves.
At least when he’d had his abilities, Owen had been able to create the magic to bind the magic inhibitor onto the forged links, thinking to use it on their enemy’s mage. Owen would have too, if he hadn’t lost his powers.
“What’s become of Connelly?” Tarrant asked, angered.
Owen could have slugged him. They were the trespassers here, though if she’d listen to reason, maybe she’d realize his intentions aligned with what she’d want to do. Only, he’d kind of blown that with sneaking onto her property. Still, if she wanted to eliminate them both, she could freely do so. Since she seemed willing to hear him out, he didn’t want to upset negotiations, as much as he also wanted to know what she’d done to his cousin.
“Sleeping.”
“Your sleeping potion is on the shelf over there,” Tarrant accused her, motioning to the jar.
Owen said, “Tarrant, enough!” He knew she had to be angered already, and Tarrant was calling her a liar now, when Owen hoped to make some headway with her. “We’ve come to seek your help.”
“Most people who come to seek my assistance do it in a lot less hostile manner.”
Owen saw a pretty redhead with a wreath of flowers crowning her head, peeking through the open doorway, mostly hidden behind Sigrid to get a look at them. Was she a falcon fae too? He couldn’t see that she had any aura. And he’d never heard of any other falcon fae leaving his kingdom, well, except the followers of Sigrid’s grandfather. The other woman wasn’t wearing wings either, though if she was of age, she could be hiding them, just like he and his cousins were hiding theirs.
Owen inclined his head a little. “I apologize. I should have asked for your help from the first.”
“Yes, you should have. You are hiding your aura.” Sigrid tilted her head to the side a little, her expression one of wariness.
“A fae did this for us,” Owen fabricated. Connelly had used his magic abilities to hide them. Owen didn’t want her knowing his cousins had minor magic abilities in case she decided they didn’t need her help and could manage their enemies on their own. “Not all fae kingdoms appreciate seeing us roaming through their lands.”
“True, especially when the fae have dark purposes in mind.” Sigrid motioned to each of them. “Let me see your wings.”
Surprised at her request, Owen made his appear, spreading them out wide, proudly. They were brown and orange and burgundy like hers, but had bright blue and gold plumage on the backside to attract a female of their fae kind. He swore she was wearing a hint of a smile, and he turned to display the other side of his wings that showed off the much more colorful feathers.
“Now yours,” she said to Tarrant, as if she was considering them for courting purposes, and would decide whose were the showiest first, before she chose one of them over the other.
Not that she really was interested in courting either of them, Owen knew. She’d probably rather just eliminate them, but she seemed amused that at least Owen was pleased to show off his plumage. It was a natural state of being for a male falcon fae who had come of age.
Tarrant spread his wings in the same showy fashion, and when she motioned for him to turn around, he begrudgingly did so.
She dropped the hint of a smile she’d been wearing, and Owen suspected then that she’d never seen a male falcon fae with his plumage on display, trying to interest a female falcon fae.
He sure wished he’d approached her civilly now, rather than the way he’d done it. His father had told him repeatedly that she wouldn’t go with them willingly, and they’d have to use stealth and nets to take her captive. Owen shouldn’t have listened to him.
“What do you want of me?” she asked Owen.
“We have need of your magic in the kingdom of Raymore, to help us repel attacks from our northern neighbors. Their armies are too great, and they have a powerful mage.”
“Was my grandmother from your kingdom?”
Tarrant had been keeping an eye on her, but the look he cast Owen told all. Owen wished now she’d knocked him out with sleeping potion too.
“Aye.”
“And she fled from there because…?”
“Your grandfather was a magic user and tried to kill the king, my grandfather. Your grandfather died in the fight, and your grandmother, fearing for her life and your mother’s and an orphaned boy she had taken in, ran off.”
“Escaped.”
“Ran off,” Owen repeated. At least that was the story his grandfather had told him over the years.
“And your grandfather still rules?”
“He’s dead. My father, King Yarrow, rules in his place.”
“No one aided my grandmother. No one from your kingdom—”
“And yours.”
“It has never been my kingdom. The golden fae took us in and protected us so that her daughter and the orphan she took in could grow up, fall in love, and have me. I have never lived anywhere else. This is my home. These are my people.”
He knew differently. She might not know her own people, but they were her people, and they were just like her. She was a falcon fae with wings and had the ability to fly. Their kind had no love of gold and didn’t adorn themselves like the golden fae did. If she felt she was one of the golden fae, why didn’t she do so also?
He saw the way she had admired their wings. The look in her eyes said she’d never seen anything so beautiful in her life. Gold wouldn’t impress her because it was an inborn condition. A male’s wings stirred her blood, made her desire to be with her own kind. Why hadn’t he even considered that bond that could occur between them?
Because he thought she’d be dead set against returning to her own kind after his grandfather had killed hers and made her grandmother fear for her life and that of her daughter’s and her charge.
“I won’t go there to help you.”
“Our people need your help.”
“Your people. If you promise you’ll leave without causing any trouble for me, I’ll release you and you can return to your king and tell him I’m under the protection of the golden fae and have always been. I’m sorry for your people’s trouble. It sounds to me like they need an alliance. Maybe he should try forming some with people who would be willing to work with him.”
For a moment, Owen racked his brain, trying to think of something else he could say that would convince her to
come with them. And then he thought of just the way he could resolve this and smiled. He would tell his father just that—that in his stead, he’d have to make an alliance. They would seek one with the golden fae queen, pay her enough gold to buy her help, and all she would need to do in return would be to turn over one falcon fae. Since Sigrid was obliged to follow her queen’s rule, the deed would be done.
“Agreed.” Owen bowed low in a gesture meant for royalty. And then he said, “Come on, Tarrant. We have work to do. It appears we’re on a new quest.”
“But—”
Owen gave his cousin a look that said to keep his words to himself for once.
“All right.”
Owen moved to take his net, but Sigrid said, “You can leave those behind.”
“I wasn’t going to use it on you.” Owen really, really wanted to take them with them. They might still come in handy, and he was the only one who had been able to create the magic disabling nets.
“I know, because you’re going to leave them behind.”
Then Sigrid moved out of their way and the other female fae stepped aside for them so they could leave the cottage. Owen eyed his net with regret, hoping she wouldn’t be able to tell that they were imbued with magic and even further, that if she could, she couldn’t undo his spell. Then they hurried out of the cottage to retrieve Tarrant’s sleeping brother.
Owen was glad Sigrid had told them the truth about his cousin and that he wasn’t dead. He again regretted not speaking to her in a civil manner first.
“When will this spell wear off?” Owen asked Sigrid.
“In a little while. Now leave, before I change my mind.”
“Aye.” Owen and Tarrant each took one of Connelly’s arms and vanished, but they didn’t transport home. They couldn’t travel that far by transportation. They transported into the woods a couple of miles away.
Tarrant helped lay his brother on the pine needle-blanketed forest floor. “You know your father will be furious. If he could form alliances with other kingdoms, he would have done so already. And that won’t help against that mage.”