Alana woke in her own bed. Her temples throbbed and she cradled her head as she sat up and oriented. She groaned and used her magic to chase the pain away.
It only took a moment for the veil to clear and normalcy to descend. She breathed a sigh of relief when the discomfort fled. That little spellword was handy for headaches, even ones from over-imbibing. But she hadn’t gotten drunk at any feast. Didn’t remember drinking wine or mead, or anything else for that matter.
What happened?
She had no memory of…getting back here. She looked around her room, familiar with its sense of suffocation, but that was equal to her sense of security, despite the contradiction. This was the only place that was hers.
Her eyes rested on her things—her desk, her chest of drawers, the fireplace, as well as the wardrobe that held her many gowns. Alana stared at the arched doorway that led into her sitting room, and to the exit of her suite. Like the rest, it was encrusted with jewels.
She exhaled and closed her eyes.
Home.
Right?
Funny, she could’ve done just as well without the extravagance. Xander’s room in the Warrior Barracks was much more pleasant in many ways; his furniture simpler, his decorations sparse, even if masculine.
Females were forbidden there, but she made regular visits to see her cousin anyway—nearly as much as he was present in her rooms, but at least he was permitted in his role as her personal guard.
Of course, as the princess she wasn’t questioned openly for being in the barracks, only chided by her father when he found out.
Word always got back to him.
King Fillan had already lost one princess to a Fae Warrior, so he was especially keen that she stay away from winged soldiers. But unlike her aunt, she had no romantic interest in any of them, especially not her blooded cousin.
Not that her father cared. He just expected to be obeyed without question, as a good daughter should. So of course, she’d upped her discretion after his last lecture, but didn’t heed him.
At least Uncle Daegus never shooed her away when they’d encountered each other at the barracks or near the fighting grounds, but who knew, the captain probably tattled on her to the king as well.
She always had to blink into Xander’s quarters when she wanted to see him. Alana had the magical ability to picture where she wanted to go, concentrate, and she could appear there, but she couldn’t do it sight-unseen. She had to a visit a place once before she could blink to it subsequently. And she couldn’t travel between realms.
Realms—
She gasped.
The Human Realm.
Alex.
The handsome laird…
Her cousin had ripped her from his side when he’d still been unconscious on the beach. Xander had thrown her over his shoulder and taken off running.
After that, things got fuzzy.
Alana didn’t remember returning to the cave that held the Human Realm’s Faery Stones. She didn’t remember them being opened, or coming home.
Obviously her cousin had been able to open the portal without her. But if she couldn’t remember anything…that meant he’d used magic on her. To keep her asleep.
Probably the same spell he’d knocked the laird out with. That didn’t answer the question of how he’d gotten through the wing of Fae Warriors in the Field of Light, but she could figure that out later. When she spoke with him. But…
Damn him.
He’d taken her away from Alex MacLeod and brought her home against her will!
“How dare he?” she growled aloud. Alana swung her legs over the side of her bed and cursed Xander to all five levels of Fae Hell.
She hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to Alex. Or make sure her cousin’s magic hadn’t really harmed him. She could’ve at least placed him on his mount’s back and told the stallion to go home. She could’ve done so with magic.
Alana stood and said a quick spellword to don a gown. Warm air swirled around her, making her hair dance as the rich lavender day-dress settled over her body and she caressed the front as it formed to her breasts and stomach. It was one of her simpler designs, with white and dark purple stitching up and down the front, forming stripes, and made of the softest Fae silk. It had a higher bodice than most of her attire, and the sleeves were off the shoulder.
She glanced over her reflection in the full-length mirror, then left her sleeping room, heading to the exit. She turned the decorative knob, but it was locked.
From the outside.
Alana tried again, and yelped as white-hot pain shot up her wrist, into her elbow, and blue sparks flew at her from the lock-spell, floating down to the floor as if innocent before dissipating.
What the…
“I’m sorry, Princess, you’ve been sealed inside.” The deep voice from the other side of the door was not her cousin.
“What?” Her head reeled and she took a step back, ignoring the fluffy furniture surrounding her in the lavish sitting room. “Who’s there?”
“Rannick, Your Highness.”
She expelled a breath. The guard wasn’t a winged warrior, but one of the many castle men-at-arms. He was oversized, but he’d always been kind to her. “Rannick, can you please open the door so we can speak?”
“Nay, I cannot, but I know a spell.”
In moments, a window opened through thick panel, and she could see into the corridor, but experience told her it was for viewing only, not a true opening. She’d be unable to leave her suite, even if her guard allowed a large enough space.
“What happened?” Alana looked up and met the yellow-gold eyes of the big Fae man.
He was even larger than Xander, probably seven feet tall, and just as broad. He had long sable locks, and a neatly trimmed beard. His coloring made his eyes all the more stunning, like a lion with a dark mane. He was handsome, wickedly so, like most Fae.
Rannick carried two swords, so large he had to strap them crisscrossed on his wide back. His palace uniform was blue with silver trim, and an ivory under-tunic spanning his wide chest. The neckline and sleeves were only partially visible.
“I know not, Princess. I was ordered to guard you, and not permit your exit. The mages sealed your locks.”
“For how long?”
“Until his Majesty calls for you.”
What did Xander do?
“Where’s my cousin?”
“I was not told, Your Highness.”
Alana frowned.
“Worry not, food will be brought shortly.”
She pursed her lips and swallowed some unladylike curses. It wasn’t Rannick’s fault he was following orders, or that he’d been the one saddled with her. She’d always liked him. “Thank you, Rannick. I appreciate your explanation. If you see my cousin, can you tell him to come to me?”
As her personal bodyguard, Xander would be permitted entry to her suites even if she was banned egress, as frustrating as that was.
The man-at-arms gave a curt nod and waved his hand.
Alana stared as the door clouded and returned to its normal carved dark wood panel. If the mages had spelled her locks, they also blink-proofed her suite, because her father knew her too well. She always escaped at first chance she got.
She went back to her sleeping quarters and plopped onto her bed, sighing for the twentieth time since she’d woken. ‘Until his Majesty calls for you,’ Rannick had said. Well, if she’d tapped into her father’s ire, it could be days, maybe even weeks. Once he’d left her confined to her suite for a month.
However, he couldn’t do that this time, if only to save face. The Feast of Beltane was around the corner, and King Fillan was hosting a lavish ball.
Most of the Scottish Court would be there, but also the kings and queens from the English, Welsh, and Irish Fae Courts would be in attendance as well.
So her father would dress her up and put her on display; he couldn’t hide Alana away or let it be known she was a constant ‘problem’ for him. Appearances were everything to him.
Besides, if she was locked up, he couldn’t parade her in front of the Irish Crown Prince, Seamus. He’d been trying to get her to entertain a betrothal with Seamus for years, but the Irishman was a buffoon. Not to mention a womanizing rake, and she couldn’t stand him to look at him.
Promiscuity didn’t bother her; it was commonly accepted for young Fae to have several lovers before marrying, but monogamy was expected after vows were exchanged, and Prince Seamus was under the impression royal blood made him an exception.
He was quite open with such information, which spoke loudly to the fact he was yet unwed; and he was older than she.
She’d had her fair share of dalliances, but she’d never given her maidenhead away. Kisses and intimate touches were pleasant—both giving and receiving—but she’d never met a man she’d fancied enough to consider having inside her.
Alex MacLeod’s sapphire eyes and handsome features popped into her mind. His short dark hair was an oddity to most males she knew. It made him more tempting. And…there was the jolt that’d felt like magic when they’d touched.
What is that?
She wanted to go back to the Human Realm and see him. See if they had any more…sparks.
No, she needed to.
Alana paced her sleeping room, and a flash of ivory caught her eye. A small scroll rested on her bedside table; it was wonder she hadn’t spotted it before.
She broke the plain red wax seal and unrolled it. The familiar hand of her cousin was scrawled inside.
I won’t apologize.
-X
She harrumphed and threw the offending parchment down. “Of course you won’t.” Alana rolled her eyes and couldn’t help her desire that Xander was somewhere being punished too.
Xander brought her a well-laden tray of food a few hours—that felt like days—later. She’d expected a servant, but perhaps her father had also ordered her handmaidens away. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Where’ve you been?” Alana demanded as she whirled toward him in her sitting room as soon as the door to her suite shut with a soft thud. She ignored the sizzling sound of the lock-spell reengaging and the blue glow that pulsed around the oversized handle.
Her cousin sighed and set his burden on the table next to her favorite purple chaise lounge. His posture was stiff, even with his movements, and his wings vibrated, revealing his ire, and reflecting the light in the room. The moving iridescence was pretty, belying his obvious mood. “Dealing with consequences of your choices.”
“What?” She stilled, but couldn’t pry her hands off their perch on her hips.
“First, I was chided by my father for allowing you to rein me into your antics. Captain Daegus is not pleased with you, and he’s embarrassed by me, as usual. Then I appeased my dear uncle,” his voice dripped disdain, “by vowing I’d never listen to your orders again.”
Alana gasped. “What?” She blinked.
“You’re lucky I’m still charged with your protection, Your Highness. Only my Oath saved me. My father,” he cleared his throat, “convinced yours not to bind me to my word with any kind of magic, but I’ve no idea why. I’ve not seen the king quite that angry in some time. The mages were standing at his side like eager pups, the bastards.”
Apprehension settled low in her gut and her stomach quivered. She swallowed. Inhaled slowly. “Are you being punished?” Her voice was cracked, more of a whisper than she’d intended.
“Aye, I was given ten lashes.” He delivered it matter-of-factly, but that didn’t stave off her wince.
She squeezed her eyes shut and told herself to breathe. “Xander, I’m—”
He held a palm high. “Alana, don’t bother. I told you your little adventure would lead to no good, and shockingly, I was right.”
Remorse hovered, then settled in her chest. “I didn’t think—”
“I know. You never do, and the rest of us have to deal with what happens after.”
Alana reared back as if he’d slapped her. Her cousin was her rock. He’d rarely snapped at her. Tears pricked her eyes, and she couldn’t hold them back. “Xander—”
He looked her up and down and exhaled audibly. Closed his eyes before taking a seat on the overstuffed lavender sofa. “Don’t cry.” The words weren’t for comfort. “Just don’t. You’ve got to lie in the bed you made. And I wouldn’t count on getting out of here before Beltane.”
Tears were born and scalded her cheeks, but she didn’t care about Beltane or being confined. She cared about Xander being cross with her. No, not cross. Seriously angry. “What happened?”
His brow furrowed. “What d’you mean?”
“You…knocked me out? I’ve no memory.”
Her cousin sighed again and reclined into the sofa, his long plait over one shoulder, down his chest and pooling on his lap. He flexed his wings. Despite being seated on purple upholstery, he couldn’t have looked more masculine. “I’d no choice.”
“I’m not angry.”
Xander snorted, as if asserting she shouldn’t dare have the right to be upset.
“I’m sorry, Xander,” Alana whispered. She wanted to reach for his hand, but he wouldn’t have it right now. Magic and instinct alike confirmed it. She took a seat across from him on her chaise, and looked at the food he’d brought.
A stew of some sort, and some bread. Nothing close to the normal feast she was presented with. Her father obviously wanted her to be treated as a servant as a part of her punishment.
She didn’t care. Had always preferred simpler meals. A good rabbit stew was actually her favorite. As empty as her stomach was, as much as she needed sustenance, Alana couldn’t eat.
Not until her cousin forgave her.
“How did we get caught?” She kept her voice low and tried to project calm on him with her magic.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“I feel the ripples of your powers. Just…stop. I won’t be coerced, Your Highness.”
Alana grimaced and muttered another apology, but he shook his head.
“Remember how you didn’t account for the Stones being guarded upon our return? Well, that’s how.” Xander finished with a curt nod.
“I’m so sorry.” Repetition wasn’t helping, if his expression was any indication.
“I had to tell them you fled from me and I went after you. I told them we encountered no one; I caught you right on the other side of the Faery Stones and brought you home.”
Alana sucked in a breath. He’d lied. A great risk, considering her father had mages that could detect dishonesty. If Xander had been discovered—
“Right. It wouldn’t have been as simple as ten lashes.” A scowl marred his handsome face.
She didn’t dare chide him for reading her mind.
“Don’t apologize again, I told you I don’t want to hear it, cousin.” This was softer, with less of an angry edge, but she was far from forgiven.
She deserved that.
“Are you…does your back hurt?”
He shook his head, making his braid dance. “Nay, I was permitted to see a healer, though I suspect my father didn’t make that known to the king.”
Alana looked at the bowl of stew again, not sure what to say, so she didn’t try.
“This isn’t as simple as when you flit around our realm and it’s discovered. If they knew you’d seen a human—”
“I know. My father would order his death even though we didn’t tell him we’re Fae.” Her heart thumped.
Alex.
Alana couldn’t be the reason he was harmed—or worse.
“Aye.” Xander nodded when their gazes brushed. He appraised her, and his eyes softened again, but only a touch. They remained like hard violet jewels, and his expression matched. “Eat.” He stood and took a breath.
“Where’re you going?” Her heart sank to her gut and stayed there. Her muscles twisted and churned for good measure.
If she did eat, there was no way food would stay down.
She made no magical effort to hide her thoughts…her regret and sorrow. If anything, she projected them so he had no choice but to feel how she did.
“The problem with that, my dear cousin, is that you don’t regret going. You’re just sorry we got caught, and that I was punished. And while I love you as I always have, I’m not quite ready to forgive you.”
Alana startled.
He was gone before she could tell him she respected his honesty or assert she loved him too.
Xander had been right.
If they hadn’t gone, she wouldn’t have met Alex. Despite the consequences, she couldn’t regret the trip. But where was the laird now?
In the Human Realm when she was literally trapped in the realm of the Fae. And the closest person to her was angry with her.
She had neither of them.
Alana stared at the door. She’d never felt more alone.
She threw herself down in her chaise and sobbed so hard her body shook.