Griffin’s lips flattened into a thin line, and his brother didn’t seem any happier to see him. Brea couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that the two men who’d tried to kidnap her from the human world were related.
“Impersonating a police officer is a crime.” The words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them, and her cheeks flamed at her stupidity. He’d been trying to abduct her and take her into this whacked out world. He didn’t care about committing human crimes in a world that wasn’t his own.
Neither brother spoke as they stood in a silent stand-off.
When the queen clapped her hands together, they all jumped. “That’s right! I forgot you already met my dear niece.” She turned to Brea. “Darling, this is Lochlan O’Shea. You may call him Loch.”
“She may not,” the man in question snapped.
“Oh, don’t be such a bore.” She rolled her eyes in the universal expression of men! “Don’t let Lochlan scare you, niece.”
“What are you doing here?” Griff spoke like his brother was the only person on the terrace.
Lochlan’s jaw clenched. “My queen sent me.”
His queen. Griff mentioned Lochlan worked for the fire queen of Eldur.
“Ah, yes.” Griff dropped into a chair beside Brea’s aunt. “How is Queen Faolan? Still bent on destroying Fargelsi?” He shook his head and turned hard eyes on his queen. “He shouldn’t be here. Eldur is no ally of ours.”
“Forgive Griffin.” Aunt Regan folded her hands in her lap and looked to Lochlan. “Sibling relationships can be difficult.” There was a sadness to her eyes Brea wondered about. Did it have to do with her mysterious fae father?
But she couldn’t ask.
Lochlan pushed away from the railing, his cold gaze skittering over Brea, sending a shiver down her spine. “I told my queen this mission was a mistake. Our talks have gotten us no closer to a deal today. I will leave you to your…” His expression darkened. “Family reunion.” With that, he turned away.
“The queen has not dismissed you,” Griff growled. In all the time she’d spent with Griff, she couldn’t remember ever seeing him so tense.
Aunt Regan held out a hand toward Griff, palm up. He placed his hand in hers. “It’s okay, Griff. Lochlan, you may leave us.”
With a grunt, Lochlan stormed past the guards at the door and disappeared. The tense air choking their gathering dissipated, and Griff’s shoulders dropped.
“Niece.” Her aunt smiled. “Please, take a seat.”
Brea lowered herself into a tiny chair she worried would break if she so much as shifted. Yet, it seemed to hold the larger Griff just fine. Servants descended on them, setting silver teacups in front of them and pouring steaming tea that smelled of oranges.
Needing something to do to quell the nervousness inside her, Brea reached for a pastry only to have her hand slapped away by a servant who used silver tongs to place food on each of their white china plates.
“Ana,” the queen chastised.
Ana, a slight woman with tanned skin and caramel colored hair bowed her head in apology. “I’m sorry, your Majesty. Truly. Don’t… please… I didn’t mean to cause offense. You always tell us no lady should serve herself. I just…”
The queen’s eyes flashed green. “You may go, Ana. Do not touch my niece again, or we shall have a problem.”
Ana scurried away.
Throughout the entire exchange, Griff stared down at his plate, almost as if he were willing himself not to see the cracks in his liege’s kind demeanor.
Brea watched the door Ana had disappeared behind. “It’s okay, A-auntie. It was my fault.”
“Brea, nothing that happens in this palace is ever your fault. As a Lady of the court, you will grow used to that.”
“But I’m not a Lady. I’m just a farm girl from Ohio.”
The queen smiled. “I thought Griff would have explained your importance by now.” There was admonishment in her voice.
“I did,” Griff grumbled. “She just refuses to see herself as special.”
“That’s because I’m not.” Brea took an abnormally large bite of her pastry to keep more words from tumbling from her mouth. Instead, crumbs fell onto the bodice of her dress, and the dry scone stuck like glue in her throat. She coughed, spraying bits of scone onto her plate and reached frantically for her cup of tea.
Guzzling it down, she spit it out when it burned her throat, coating the plate of pastries in a thin layer of regurgitated tea. The coughing fit didn’t end, and she pounded on her chest, unable to breathe in the tight dress. Once it finally subsided, she built up the courage to look at her aunt—the queen—which still seemed ridiculous to her.
The queen was too slow to cover up her look of horror, and Brea couldn’t blame her. It was the moment Regan realized she’d made a huge mistake, that her niece wasn’t fit to clean the floors of a palace, let alone live in one.
“I’m sorry, they didn’t teach etiquette at the Clarkson Institute,” Brea blurted.
Griff shook in silent laughter, the grim expression he’d worn since seeing his brother gone. She had the urge to reach out and punch him, but that would probably be frowned upon—just like spitting her food all over the queen’s impeccable table.
A brown stain spread over the white lace tablecloth where tea dripped from the corner of her plate. Brea couldn’t take her eyes from the evidence that she didn’t belong here.
A slow smile overtook the disgust on the queen’s face, and before long, she joined Griff in his laughter, the sound high and vibrant like the tinkling of a waterfall.
Brea clasped and unclasped her hands in her lap, not knowing exactly what to do. She absently picked up her scone again before staring at it in accusation and setting it down. “The scone was dry.” She cringed at her words. “I just mean… at Starbucks, they’re more like cake. I wasn’t expecting a biscuit, and I bit off too much, but then the tea was hot, and—”
Griff cut her off. “We saw it play out, Brea. We don’t need another account.”
Brea scooted her chair back and stood. “I’m so sorry, Auntie. I wanted to make a good impression, but this is all a little too much. I’ll understand if you want to send me back—not like I have much to go back to other than a murder charge for killing my best friend and parents who think I’m insane.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Please forget I told you about that. I’m not a murderer. I swear. I miss Myles, and it was my fault, but I didn’t mean to kill him. I swear.”
“Brea.” Griff raised a brow. “You’re rambling.”
“I know!” she burst out before clapping a hand over her mouth again. “I just yelled in front of a queen. It’s just, I ramble. I’m clumsy. Sometimes I even talk to myself. I’ve lived my entire life with people telling me the things I see aren’t real. This is who I am, Aunt Regan. I’m totally not calling you Auntie because I’m not a hundred. Do you want me to stay or not?”
The queen’s keen eyes didn’t stray from her face as she studied her. “Yes, dear. I knew all these things about you already.” She stood. “You will stay. But I believe you could do with some rest. I will send my own personal Lady’s maid to look after you.”
“But I already have maids.”
“The triplets are wonderful housemaids, but they can be a bit… over stimulating, and they haven’t trained as Lady’s maids yet. You will still see them from time to time, but I think Neeve will be a perfect fit for you, dear. Griff, please escort Brea back to her rooms.”
Griff stood and bowed at the waist. “Yes, your Majesty.”
The queen bustled away in a swish of skirts, her heels sounding against the floor in her retreat.
“She hates me.” Brea flopped face first onto the bed, yanking at the bottom of her dress so it stopped pulling on her.
“She doesn’t hate you.” Griff hesitated in the doorway. “She just doesn’t want to overwhelm you.”
“Or overwhelm herself.” Her parents never let her forget what a burden she’d been to them with her hallucinations and outbursts. “I don’t want to be a burden anymore.” Tears gathered in her eyes, but she blinked them away.
“Is that really what you think?” Griff stepped into the room and shut the door. His long strides brought him to the edge of the bed. “That you’re a burden?”
Brea sat up and shrugged.
Griff’s eyes met hers. “Brea, you’re wanted here. I don’t know everything you’ve gone through in your life, but that’s over.” He bent so they were eye-level. “This is your home now.”
“Can you sit with me for a little while?” She patted the spot beside her.
“On your… bed?” He jumped back. “I shouldn’t even be in here. It’s not proper.”
“Please?” She didn’t care what was proper in this world. As recent as a few months ago, she’d spent the night at Myles’ house sharing his double bed. They’d never questioned it. “I’m not asking you to sleep with me, Griff. This place is so different than what I’m used to. At your house, I could imagine I was on some idyllic vacation. But this, here, is real, foreign. I can’t do it alone.”
“You’re not alone.” He sat beside her.
She nodded. “Okay, talk to me about anything else to make me forget I spat tea at the queen.”
He laughed. “I haven’t been that entertained at a tea in… ever.” He bumped her shoulder. “Okay… something different. Confession time. Seeing Lochlan here in this palace completely messed with my mind.”
She swatted his arm. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me he was your brother. I knew you guys were familiar from your fight in the woods over yours truly, but brothers? Talk about whoa.” She paused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He sighed. “Our family is complicated.”
“I understand complicated. Try me.”
“I lied to you before. Well, I don’t think I actually said I’m Fargelsian… maybe just implied.”
“You’re not from here?”
He shook his head. “Do you remember I told you about the three kingdoms of the fae world?”
She nodded.
“The frozen kingdom is Iskalt. Lochlan and I were born at the ice palace to the king and queen.”
“You’re a prince?” Her jaw dropped. “A real, honest to god prince?”
“Was. Our parents died when we were children, and our uncle took the throne. He sent us away, me to be raised in the Gelsi court and Lochlan to be raised in Eldur. It was a compromise, a way for the other kingdoms to allow my uncle to remain king. We were supposed to bring the kingdoms together.”
“But that didn’t happen.”
“No, it didn’t. Lochlan hates me. Really, he hates everything. I’ve never been able to get through to him. When I saw him in the human realm with you in his possession, I realized the Eldur queen wanted you as well.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “We don’t know. Maybe Loch being here will give us some answers. Whatever the reason, it can’t be good. Queen Faolan of Eldur is born of fire. She can’t be trusted, and neither can my brother. That is why I didn’t tell you.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I didn’t want you to think less of me because of him.”
The corner of Brea’s lips twitched up. “I couldn’t think less of you, Griffin O’Shea.” Her eyes found his as she turned her head. “I don’t claim to be the authority on genuine people, but I would bet my last horse you’re one of the good ones.”
His lips curved into a half-smile. “You don’t have any horses.”
“I just figured it was the kind of thing people say here. I’ll amend it. I’d bet every last one of those frilly dresses in my too-large closet.”
“You hate those dresses, so I’m not sure that has any meaning.”
“How do you know I hate them?”
“Because, even though you look completely breathtaking in that preposterous mountain of tulle, I can read the discomfort on your face.”
“You barely know me, Griff. You can’t read my face.”
He reached up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Now… that is a bet I’d take.” His finger skimmed over her cheek. “Your cheeks redden when you think you’ve said something wrong.” His hand moved up over the bridge of her nose. “Your nose crinkles when something annoys you.”
“Usually you.”
He laughed. “And these eyes… shine the most brilliant shade of blue when you’re content.”
“They’re always blue. Eyes don’t change color.”
He pulled his hand away. “How can you see all there is to see in the fae world and still keep these human notions?”
“It’s a talent.”
“Stubbornness?”
“I was going to say idiocy.”
He shook his head. “You’re no idiot, Brea Robinson.”
She couldn’t take her eyes away from the boy saying all the right things, things she wanted to believe. There were secrets in his eyes—like the secret about Lochlan—but she shut those out, needing desperately for someone to trust in.
Leaning into him, she wrapped her arm around his waist. For the first time since Myles’ death, she felt she wasn’t alone after all.
Brea and Griff spent the day playing cards in her room. He’d found a deck she didn’t recognize with symbols she’d never seen before. He taught her to play a game called Flash Magic.
It was designed to be used along with a fae’s abilities, and Griff encouraged her to try small things like staring at the deck and using her magic to draw a card. When she finally accomplished it without setting anything on fire—don’t look at her curtains—she jumped across the game and tackled Griff to the ground.
He hugged her back, only releasing her when someone cleared their throat. Brea pulled back with a grin to find a tall girl staring down at her with beautiful amber eyes. Thick chocolate brown hair was pulled back away from her youthful olive skin.
“I can come back,” she squeaked in a voice that revealed her age more than her appearance did.
Brea picked herself up from the ground, wiping her hands down the pair of pants she’d made Griff fetch from his room. Her own closet was stocked with nothing but dresses. She’d have done just about anything for a pair of yoga pants with pockets.
“No, it’s cool.” Brea smiled, still riding a high from using her magic.
“Cool?” the girl said the word slowly. “Do you need a fire started in your hearth? It’s quite warm outside, but if this room isn’t to your liking, I can do that.”
Brea suppressed a grin. “No, cool means… never mind. It’s fine, you can stay if you tell me who you are.”
“Oh.” The girl’s cheeks paled. “I’m Neeve. The queen sent me to wait on you.”
“Well, I don’t really need waited on. But do you want to play with us?”
Neeve stared down at Griff with wide eyes.
“Brea.” He stood. “Neeve doesn’t want to play. She’s here to do a job.”
“Doesn’t mean the job can’t be fun.”
“Actually, it does.” He shook his head with a sigh. “I must be on my way. I’ve been here most of the day, and there’s a formal dinner tonight since the Eldurian negotiators are here.”
“Does the queen want me to come?”
“No!” His word came so quickly, her shoulders dropped. Of course, her aunt wouldn’t want her in public after what happened that morning.
“Oh, okay.”
“I just mean… We don’t trust Lochlan and his party. The Eldur queen wants you taken to her court, so it’s best if we keep you out of sight until they’re gone.”
Lochlan had already seen her, but she didn’t argue because she had no real desire to stuff herself into an awful dress and sit behind a big table taking rabbit bites of food. At least, that was what the movies said one did at a palace meal.
Griff ran a hand down her arm before squeezing her hand. “Neeve will take care of you. I’ll see you soon.”
When he left, she stared at Neeve for a long moment, unsure of what to say. She’d never been good at meeting new people. “You’re tall.”
Neeve bowed her head. “Yes, it is a flaw.”
“No, I mean, it’s cool, I mean sweet. You know what? I’ll just say I like it. In the human realm, you’d be considered beautiful with your long legs and all.” She smacked a palm against her forehead. “I’m totally not hitting on you. I like boys.”
Neeve cocked her head. “Hitting me? That is your choice if it should happen.”
“Hitting on you.” She scoured her mind for a term that might make her understand. “Courting you. Is that right? I only want to court boys.”
Her brow scrunched. “Well, that seems rather limiting.” She walked past Brea to examine the burnt curtains.
“You like the ladies? That’s cool. Sweet. Fine. Ugh!”
To her surprise, Neeve laughed. “Fae do not choose one type of person to love. We don’t fall in love with a fae’s… genitalia.”
“Wait a second.” Brea held up a hand. “Are you trying to tell me I’ve fallen through some pansexual wormhole?” A grin overtook her face. “That’s freaking awesome. Has Griff ever…”
“Lady Brea.” Chastisement rang in her tone. “I am a servant. We do not gossip.”
“Of course you do. I’ve seen Downton Abbey.”
“I won’t pretend to know what that means.”
“Wait, aren’t you like not allowed to yell at me?”
Neeve’s face paled. “I wasn’t yelling. I was merely…”
“Don’t stop. Please. Servants here are all Stepfordy. I like you, Neeve. We’re going to be friends.”
“A servant cannot be friends with a Lady of Her Majesty’s Court.”
“Sure they can.” Brea climbed onto her bed and sat cross-legged.
“The queen would not approve.”
She laughed. “The queen will not approve of about ninety-percent of me. We just won’t tell her.” She lowered her voice. “Please. I’d like to make friends here.” She’d never had that urge back in Ohio, but Myles had been all she’d needed. The more people she distracted herself with here, the less time she’d have to miss him, to let herself wallow in guilt.
If it worked like that.
“You do not seem like the kind of lady who’d move into the palace.” Neeve picked up the discarded game on the floor.
“That’s because I was kidnapped.”
Neeve almost dropped the cards. “You’re the girl the queen has been searching for?” She stumbled back. “The one wanted by the Eldur queen?”
“Yeah, didn’t I say that?” She flopped onto her stomach and kicked her legs up behind her. “Listen, I don’t have any plans to leave this room until everyone forgets what an idiot I am. But I’m starving. Who do I call to get some chow around here?”
Neeve set the game on an ornate white table near the hearth. “I’ll fetch you something from the kitchen.” Something in her changed, and Brea couldn’t figure it out. It was like news of her identity shook something within the servant.
After a long stare, she left Brea to her silence.
The Gelsi palace had the best food.
Brea never thought she was the kind of person to like coated duck in some kind of cream sauce she couldn’t pronounce. Or that she’d stuff herself with seven courses of a single meal. At home, they were more the bologna and grilled cheese type of people.
She lay on her bed, her stomach almost bursting in protest. Neeve left after bringing the food, despite Brea begging her to stay and eat with her. Fear had entered her eyes at the proposition, and she went on and on about how servants didn’t eat food fit for nobles. Brea tried to convince her to take a single bite, and she’d run out of there as if her dress was on fire.
The remnants of Brea’s magic trials in the game with Griff were long gone, leaving behind a pristine room once more. She wondered if the people in this palace ever stopped working.
Thoughts of the fire queen entered her mind. She pictured a woman with blazing eyes and a vengeful spirit. As she’d learned from the movies, anything with fire in these fantasy worlds was bad.
That was how she imagined the Eldur queen. Long white hair, a hard expression, and dragons at her disposal. Did this world even have dragons? Griff hadn’t mentioned them. He’d have told her, right? Because, seriously, dragons!
The prospect both scared and intrigued her.
She couldn’t let herself fall into the hands of a dragon queen.
A scraping on her door had her jolting up in bed. She climbed off the heavenly mattress and crept across the floor on bare feet. Raising a hand, she tried to call on her magic, letting it latch on to her fear.
But when the door opened, it clogged in her veins, unable to break free as her mind went blank. Before her stood the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. It wasn’t the first time she’d thought it, but it was the first time since knowing he was evil.
There was a definite family resemblance with Griffin. For one, both he and Lochlan were ridiculously good looking—but she was starting to suspect half of the fae population of the same.
“Brea,” his low growl had her stepping forward not of her own accord.
“What are you doing here?” She had to force the words out.
He shut the door behind him. “We need to talk.”
She only stared at him.
“You’re in danger.”