“We’re fae from Seventh Realm,” Hervé answered.
It took her a long second to digest what Hervé had said. What the hell was fae? “You mean fairy? Shouldn’t you be five inches tall, living in a big tree and baking cookies?”
Both men looked offended.
“That’s an elf, and not even the real elves look like that. You watch too many commercials,” Hervé said. “Please, love, we just want to talk. Give us a chance to explain everything.”
Belle shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“It’s only fair, Belle. Please?” Armand pleaded.
“No. I need some time alone.”
“Belle,” Hervé protested.
“Please. Just go. I need to think.” Belle slammed the door and collapsed. Her heart was pounding so hard, she thought she’d have a heart attack any second. She waited to see if either Armand or Hervé would barge in uninvited. They didn’t.
“Very well, love.” Hervé’s voice was muffled by the door. “We’ll talk when you’re ready.”
Then, silence. A minute passed. Belle continued waiting. They were really gone.
Thank God.
Belle dragged herself from the door and into the kitchen. Her gaze drifted to the sandwich on the counter. She didn’t feel hungry anymore. She threw it to the trash can and padded to the bathroom.
I need a long bath. Maybe I’ll feel better afterwards.
Hervé peered outside his window through the sheer blinds. The construction crew had begun cleaning the damage in the backyard. Yesterday’s fight with Armand had provoked enquiry from his neighbours and the police. Luckily his staff were able to ward off everyone’s inquisitiveness with a simple spell and send them on their way.
“Do you realise my house insurance rate will go up because of this?” he scolded his cousin, who was nursing a glass of bourbon near the fireplace.
“Sue me,” Armand answered testily. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t stolen her from me.”
“And I wouldn’t have stolen her from you if you’d let me compete against you fairly.”
Armand snorted. “Why her?”
“Like I told you, I fell in love with her. She’s special.”
“I need a wife, Hervé. The Crown has been pressuring me for the last couple of years. Especially your mother. It would be nice to get her off my back.”
“But do you love her? Or did you just want a quick fix for your situation?”
“I do love her.”
“And so do I.”
“You change bed-mates like you change your bed sheets. Just this one. Let me have her. You’re one of the Crown’s heirs. I don’t think your mother would approve of you taking a human mate.”
Hervé ground his teeth. “Fat chance. I. Want. Her.”
Armand stiffened. The glass in his hand exploded, sending shards of tiny crystal and alcohol to the floor.
“Are we going to fight again? You know it’s useless.”
He knew Armand like the back of his hand. They’d been born at the same hour, the same second in Chantrarae Palace. But the duchess died right after she gave birth to his cousin, and Duke Shah, unable to recover from his loss, abandoned Armand and his fief to live a hermitic life in the freezing mountains of Elangour. Her mother, the Queen, then raised Armand as one of her own.
They’d gone to the same training when they were young. Same school. Same teacher. They shared everything and were best friends. Except when they were being competitive. Since they were much alike, they began to take an interest in the same girls. That was when their friendship had started to crumble to the point they could barely tolerate each other. Their relationship deteriorated when they entered into a rite of Vraelda that marked the end of their youth and the beginning of their adulthood. The Council Elders had dropped them in the middle of the Elangour wildness, where they had to use their fighting skills and magic to obtain The Queen of the Night, a rare night-blooming flower that only blossomed at a specific time in Seventh Realm, as the trophy of their success.