“No,” Kaysar said, confiscating the fruit. “One bite, and you can keep a clear head. More, and you’ll become drunk. While I think I’ll enjoy an intoxicated Chantel—which I will experience—I’m unwilling to share the event with others.”
“Right. Clear head.” Very important during a mission. “So? What happens next?”
He narrowed his eyes as he sank his teeth into the fruit and...a whole new world appeared, as if they’d teleported to the edge of a Victorian Wild West, Fae Edition.
How amazing. They stood at the beginning of a cobblestone path; it extended before them, leading to dozens of shops, where vibrant murals adorned the outer walls and flowers grew from the roofs, spilling over the sides.
Different scents left her drooling. She thought she detected fresh baked bread. Spices. Meat? Her stomach pleaded for a feast.
Fae moved in varying directions at varying speeds. Some entered the shops, some exited. Hundreds of voices rang out, conversations blending together. The clothing styles differed as much as physical features. Different species wore different clothes, everything from warrior-chic to the peasant drab.
Envy hooked her and reeled her in. Spend more money at the outpost? Watch me. She’d go broke for a shower and clean clothes. Something made of leather, maybe.
She could acquire more jewels. A desire born from the depths of her being...or Lulundria’s? Did the other woman gain territory in Cookie’s mind, as well as her exterior?
The very idea repelled her.
At some point, you lost those you loved. One day, she would even lose Pearl Jean and Sugars. She refused to lose herself along the way.
As if he sensed her turmoil, Kaysar anchored a strong arm around her waist and tugged her closer. “You will stay by my side the entire time we are here. Do you understand?”
“Sir, yes, sir.” Currently without defenses, she snuggled into the big, hard body as comforting as it was maddening. Wait. Why had the shoppers and shopkeepers gone still and quiet, staring over at Cookie and Kaysar with something akin to horror?
“Um,” she said, growing uneasy. “Maybe we should go?”
Whispers rose from the masses, then shouts. “King Kaysar?”
“The Unhinged One invades!”
“Run!”
Unhinged One?
With those shouts, pandemonium reigned. Fae burst into motion, grabbing their things and flittering away, vanishing one by one. Others sprinted in the opposite direction.
Well. At least they hadn’t attacked. “You have a reputation, I see.”
“Perhaps I do,” he said, urging her forward faster than she wished to go. Not this again. “You would do well to remember their fear the next time you think to test me.”
“Is that a threat?” Why wasn’t she afraid?
“Merely an observation.”
“Are you trying to tell me you’ll kill me in cold blood?” Oops. A personal question.
He didn’t seem to mind, though. “Cold blood? I assure you, sweetling,” he said, with his first smile in forever. His steps slowed to a crawl. “My blood always boils white-hot.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WITH THE OUTPOST abandoned by shopkeepers and patrons alike, Kaysar procured the best room at the best inn, as well as any dish in the kitchen he and Chantel desired, without having to threaten, maim or murder anyone. A novel experience indeed.
His plan to keep his companion in abject misery until she called off her search for a doormaker had derailed. Temporarily. Letting her go hungry appealed less and less. Meanwhile, having to watch exhaustion settle deeper into her doll-like features bothered him more and more.
He didn’t know what to feel with Chantel. Which he didn’t understand. He always knew what to feel—murderous—and he always knew what to do. Hurt everyone.
She was a Frostline, yes, but she also wasn’t a Frostline. She’d never harmed or abused him. No, oh, no. Not his princess. She’d merely irritated him in a thousand different ways. And challenged him. And infuriated him. And amused and confused him and inflamed him as no other. But so far she’d earned none of his wrath.
Unlike Lulundria, she had no interest in Jareth. The prince “disgusted” her. A part of Kaysar believed she would understand and applaud his plans to destroy the Winter Court royals. The other part of him remained a jot...concerned about her reaction to being misled, if ever she discovered the truth.
At the moment, he sipped iced whiskey in front of a blazing hearth. Night had fallen, fierce winds howling outside. Not because of nature, but magic. The outpost was situated at the edge of his land, but operated on behalf of the Spring royal family. An allowance he made for their continued rejection of peace with the Winter Court. The owners manufactured frigid temperatures to ensure overnight guests paid extra for thicker blankets and a fire.
He’d chosen a suite with mahogany trim, gilt marble and mirrors everywhere. No matter where Chantel stood within the confines of the two-story room, he was able to watch her. His new favorite pastime. The sensual way she moved. The many expressions she revealed, none of her emotions hidden. Her body... He couldn’t get enough of it—or her.