Chapter Twelve
Sid knew she was still embroiled in a fight to stay out of prison. A fight to save her life. She knew she had no business necking like a teenager with a man she knew so little about.
But kissing him had been the best thing that had happened to her in a long time. The absolute very best thing.
And as she looked back over her work-driven life, she realized she didn’t just mean the very best thing from the time she’d been kidnapped. Kissing him had been the best thing to happen in a really, really long time.
She had dated a total of four men somewhat seriously in her life, and she had shared intimacy with two of them. That wasn’t exactly a memorable dating score, but as she had a difficult time being social anyway, she had never gotten too worked up over it.
She was pretty, and she knew it. She also knew most men who were initially attracted to her because of her looks were put off by the intense laser focus she had on her career. And Magic Man was right—she was stubborn and single-minded.
She was ambitious too, and all that meant she wasn’t exactly good wife or baby-making material. She had never really understood when other women talked about their biological clocks ticking. She wasn’t convinced she had a biological clock.
Neither one of her previous lovers had made her catch fire the way Magic Man did. It didn’t matter what he said, or even what her own mind insisted. Her body trusted him. When he touched her, she relaxed. When he’d stroked down her torso, pleasure had followed in a languid wash of fire.
And she had discovered it didn’t matter what he might look like to the eye. He was handsome to her fingertips, and his body felt strong and powerful when he came flush against her. He was easy to talk to, to confide in, and he had a kind of confidence in his own abilities, both magical and otherwise, that was incredibly sexy. He had a strong, sure touch, while his hands were gentle and sensitive. And he was not only experienced, he was intelligent—possibly even much more intelligent than she.
Other than the fact that Isabeau had a magical hold over him that he didn’t consent to, she didn’t know anything about what he did, or what his job was. She didn’t know his name. She didn’t know what he looked like, or who his friends were, what places he liked to frequent, what his hobbies were… or even if he had any hobbies.
Under normal circumstances, she would have never considered letting him kiss her, or kissing him back. But currently she was embroiled in a situation that was anything but normal. Normal didn’t apply to her life anymore.
Right now all she wanted to do was neck in the dark with a man she didn’t know, and when he put on the brakes—and rightfully so—then all she wanted to do was sulk. She was tired of thinking in crisis mode, tired of living with stress.
Her body craved pleasure and it instinctively knew he could give it to her. Her soul craved comfort, and it was unbelievably comforting to touch him, and to have him touch her. Her mind just wanted to switch off.
But no, they had to focus on keeping her whole and unbroken, and keeping her ass out of prison.
Bah!
Magic Man didn’t pull her back against his chest again, although she really kind of wanted him to.
Maybe more than kind of wanted.
Maybe really, really wanted.
He was probably thinking so clearly about what they should be doing because he… hadn’t been as affected by their kiss as she had been. (BAH!)
Instead of pulling her into his arms, he put one broad hand at the back of her neck, and the other hand at her forehead. Then he began to whisper.
When she tried to focus on his words, they wouldn’t stick in her head. Instead, it felt like they fell against her skin like heated rain… and then the words soaked into her.
Pressure built up, like the sense of an impending storm, or the feeling she got just before she stepped out onto a stage. She felt itchy and restless, like she needed to move.
Unable to sit still, she shifted underneath his hands, muttering, “Is it supposed to be this uncomfortable?”
He didn’t respond. Instead, his steady, intense whisper continued until he bit it off at the end. As he finished, he removed his hands, and tapped her forehead firmly with two fingers.
And snap.
She felt the epiphany.
Of course that was how you played the lute. Of course.
Snatching it up, she plucked through the strings, adjusted the frets, and then began to play. She got it. She knew how to play it perfectly well, and the knowledge came easily to her.
She didn’t know any of the songs that he must have known all that long ago. Instead, she played her own music, adapting her songs to the fifteen-stringed lute as she went, humming with happiness that she had an instrument, any instrument to play again, adding riffs, two-plucking with style.
The shadowed music hall turned luminous with harmonic sound. It ran through her like fiery gold, and it didn’t matter what was going on around her or what might come in the future. Everything was right with the world. Everything was more than right….
She lost track of time, and that didn’t matter either until, a formless while later, the epiphany ran out of her, like a tide pulling away from the shore.
Her fingers stumbled on the strings. Tiredness swallowed her whole. Unsteadily, she muttered, “Oh, wow. That was just amazing. If you could bottle that, you’d have addicts waiting in line down the street.”
“That was a combination of my spell and your talent.” His whisper sounded rough with exhaustion. “Those addicts would never be able to play like you just did.”
“But how are you going to get the spell to me?” She chewed her lip as she worried over the problem. “I don’t think I’m overdramatizing when I say my life depends on this.”
“I swear I will figure it out. Somehow I will get it to you.” The iron determination in his voice soothed her anxiety. “Sidonie, it was a hell of a day before I got to you, and I can’t be found here. I need to leave before I crash.”
“Of course,” she said, swaying where she sat on the footstool. “Same here. I’m wiped out.”
His hand came down heavily onto her shoulder as he stood. He dug into the pack he had left by the table and pressed something into her hands. “Here, eat this before you sleep, or you’ll regret it tomorrow.”
Her fingers were throbbing. She hadn’t been lying when she had said she’d lost the conditioning in her hands, and she didn’t have calluses built up from playing the lute.
She made her stiff, aching hands curl around what he had given her. “Okay, thank you.”
Before she managed to finish the three-word sentence, a fresh current of air circulated the large room and she knew he was gone.
Forcing herself to stay upright through an act of willpower, she sniffed what he had given her. It was a pie of some sort. As she bit into it, the sweet, tart taste of cherries filled her mouth, balanced by the sugary goodness of the crust. It was delicious.
Suddenly aware that she had not eaten since the night before, she didn’t stop eating until she had finished the whole thing.
Then, feeling a bit steadier, she tapped her fingers on the table while she thought. How could she possibly explain how she came to have earrings, if she were asked?
Carefully removing them, she slipped them into the pocket of her ugly brown dress as she whispered, “Sometimes I wear my earrings, and sometimes I carry them in my pocket.”
Would that be true enough to pass Kallah’s truthsense? How the hell should she know, when she’d never felt truthsense in her life.
She took the earrings out and put them on the table. Now they’re not in my pocket.
Then she put them back in her pocket. Now they are.
In my pocket. Out. In. Out again.
Could she have finally found a use for her OCD tendencies?
Fixing the earrings in her ears, she told herself, “Now I’m wearing them. Because sometimes I wear my earrings, and sometimes I carry them in my pocket.”
That had to be enough. She was too tired to do anything more. Staggering over to the couch, she curled up at one end. Cast adrift, her mind wandered toward sleep.
Magic Man’s lips had been firm, warm, and hungry. Thinking of how he had kissed her made her tired body pulse with remembered heat. His skin had been hot, and the muscles in his arms taut with tension. His hair had felt thick, clean, and silken when she had run her fingers through it.
And his ears had been round, not pointed.
Opening her eyes, she stared up at the shadowed ceiling as she realized.
Magic Man wasn’t Light Fae.
“What are you doing?!”
Kallah’s sharp voice penetrated the thick blanket of sleep that wrapped around Sid. Struggling to sit up, she blinked at the bright morning light streaming through the tall windows. She felt headachy and dull, as if she were hungover.
The Light Fae woman stood stiff with outrage over her reclining figure. Kallah was dressed impeccably in a simple, well-cut, rose-colored gown, her blond hair pinned at the nape of her neck.
Closing one eye, Sid squinted up at Kallah. “Did I misunderstand something? I practiced last night until I was too tired to go back to the servants’ quarters,” she said in a rusty voice. “You did say I could be either here or there, right?”
Her stiff posture unbending somewhat, Kallah frowned at her. “Cook said you hadn’t shown up for meals, and both your dirty clothes and the pile of your hair were still in your room. You can’t simply nap in the music hall whenever you feel like it!”
Swinging her legs off the couch, Sid looked down at her sore hands. Her fingers were reddened, and there were blood blisters on the tips. She had played for a long time last night under the influence of Magic Man’s spell. She rubbed the tips of her fingers gently over the balls of her thumbs. There was just no part of this that was going to go easy, was there?
“Understood,” she sighed. “I’ll try not to practice quite so late tonight.”
“What is that?” Kallah asked abruptly. When she glanced up in inquiry, the other woman nodded at her hands. “Those red marks.”
“Those are blood blisters from practicing,” Sid told her. “They’ll pop and be painful for a while, but eventually I’ll build up calluses there.”
Kallah’s frown deepened. “I forgot that humans don’t heal as quickly as the Light Fae do. You would still play like that?”
Sid thrust to her feet and said grimly, “I’ll do everything I have to in order to play well for her majesty tomorrow evening. I’ll do anything I possibly can to keep from going back into that prison. I’ll play while my fingers bleed if I must. Have you ever been down there?”
Kallah hesitated, then replied quietly, “No.”
“Trust me, you don’t ever want to go.” Sid met her gaze. “Not ever.”
Kallah studied her for a long moment, her lips pressed tightly together. Finally she ordered, “Come with me.”
Oh, great. This day was getting off to a terrific start. What fresh hell was in store for her now?
Angling her jaw out, she followed Kallah, who led her through the castle to a place Sid had never seen before. Curiosity overcame her bad temper as she stared around a large, clean room filled with a variety of jars and pots. Different herbal scents vied for supremacy. Menthol and eucalyptus and other scents she couldn’t identify.
An older Light Fae woman stepped into the room from another doorway. “Yes, Kallah? What can I do for you?”
“Myrrah, can you heal this human’s hands? She’s damaged herself.” Kallah made a short gesture at Sid. “Show her.”
Eyebrows raised, Sid complied, holding them out for the strange woman’s inspection.
“Of course I can heal those,” Myrrah said. When she smiled at Sid, laugh lines creased at the corners of her eyes. “They’re a minor injury, but they must be irritating and painful.”
“Yes, I’ve had blisters before,” Sid replied.
Myrrah told her, “A simple spell will take care of the problem. What’s your name, love?”
“Sid,” she replied, unsure of what had startled her more—Kallah’s brusque act of kindness, or Myrrah’s friendly demeanor. Still, she didn’t give them her full name. She didn’t want to allow the Light Fae to have any more of her than they had already taken. She also couldn’t resist adding pointedly, “I can’t believe somebody finally asked what my name was, after… I’ve lost track of how many days I’ve been here.”
Kallah’s mouth acquired a sour tilt, while Myrrah took in a gentle breath and simply released it again with a wry smile. Covering Sid’s hands with both of hers, she said a quick spell of healing.
Tingling ran through Sid’s arms, and when Myrrah lifted her hands away, the blood blisters had completely disappeared. Where they had been, a new, thin layer of callus covered the tips of her fingers in exactly all the right places for playing the lute.
“This is wonderful,” Sid told the healer. “If it hadn’t been for you, it would have taken me days to get to this point.”
“I can give you salve that will soften that thickened skin, if you like.”
“I appreciate the offer, but no.” Rubbing her fingers together, she smiled. “I need them just the way they are.”
“I understand. If you change your mind, you are always welcome to find your way back to me.”
“Thank you,” Sid told her sincerely. She looked past the healer to meet Kallah’s gaze. “Both of you.”
“You’re welcome,” Myrrah replied. “Now, I’m needed back in the infirmary. You can see yourself out.”
“Yes, of course,” Kallah said. As the healer left them alone, she regarded Sid for a moment. “Well now…er, Sid. What an odd name that is.”
“Yours is just as odd to me,” Sid told her.
“I imagine so,” Kallah murmured. She tapped her foot. Then she seemed to come to some decision as her attention refocused, and she said, “Very well. You will do as you were told and clean your room. After that, you will eat something for breakfast. I don’t want to hear of you going back to the music hall until you’ve looked after your own needs and refreshed yourself properly. And for the gods’ sake, don’t fall asleep in the hall again! It is totally inappropriate to use the music hall as your bedroom! You have been given leave to practice there for the time being, nothing more.”
Sid just looked at her for a moment. She said, “You can’t let your own act of kindness go without a lecture, can you?” Then, when color suffused Kallah’s face, she relented with a small laugh. “Never mind. I appreciate what you did, and I’ll follow every single one of your orders. I’ll clean my room, eat, and use the music hall only for practicing from here on out.”
“See that you do,” Kallah snapped. “The servants’ quarters are down that way, to your right. Now, you’ve taken enough of my valuable time this morning. I don’t want to hear from you, or about you, again today. Is that clear?”
Working for Isabeau as her court lady must be a particular kind of unending hell, Sid thought as she listened to Kallah’s scolding. Sure, there might be a certain amount of respect to the job title, but holy God, having to deal with that crazy bitch day in and day out… year in and year out…
Gently, she replied, “It’s quite clear. Thank you again, Kallah.”
Briefly, Kallah met her gaze, and she gave Sid a short nod. Then she pivoted on one heel and strode away.
“Because saying, ‘you’re welcome’ is such a dangerous, difficult thing to do around here in these parts,” Sid whispered to herself.
She had forgotten to take into account the Light Fae’s keen sense of hearing. Down the hall, Kallah spun around to glare at her.
Barking out a laugh, Sid held up a hand. “Sorry,” she choked out. “Have a good day.”
Kallah glared harder. “You’re welcome,” she snapped. Then she whirled around and stalked down the hall until she was out of sight.
Oh lord, Sid thought. This place is so awful, it makes things that are not quite so hellish stand out. Teasing Kallah had been the funniest thing that had happened in days. Weeks.
Rubbing her face, she went in search of her room. Once there, she cleaned up the pile of hair on the floor, made her bed with the blanket, and tucked her tennis shoes into the plain wardrobe.
Then she regarded her dirty outfit from Earth. Somehow the clothes didn’t seem as important as they had the day before. The important things were in her pocket—her twenty-one worry stones and her telepathy earrings.
If… when she made it back to Earth, she had an entire walk-in closet filled with all kinds of clothes and every type of shoe imaginable. She didn’t need this outfit. Still, she couldn’t quite bring herself to burn it.
With a sigh, she pulled out her clean tunic and trousers from the wardrobe, gathered up the dirty jeans and hoodie, and took her drying cloth to the bathrooms. After spending a strenuous amount of time washing her clothes in the tubs of warm water, she wrung them out as best as she could and then washed herself quickly.
Again she lucked out and didn’t run into anyone else while she worked. It must be the wrong time of day to have much traffic in the bathrooms. She was glad for the privacy and made a note to avoid mornings and evenings whenever possible.
On the shelves that held the soft, unscented soap, there were stacks of sticks with stiff bristles at one end set beside jars of mint-scented powder that seemed, when she cautiously tasted it, to be like bicarbonate of soda.
After inspecting both items, she concluded the sticks must be some type of toothbrush. Taking one, she used it with a small amount of the minty powder she shook into one palm and scrubbed her teeth.
The last thing she did was wash the dress she’d been wearing. That went much easier than washing her Earth clothes had. Kallah had been true to her word. After she had dunked the dress into the water several times, she held it up, and the water ran off the material. Within a few moments, the dress was clean again, and almost completely dry.
By the time she had finished her toilette, she was chilled and starving. Heading back to her room, she hung up the wet clothes and draped the drying cloth over the wardrobe door. The clothes would dry more quickly if she could put them out in the sun, but she didn’t know where she could hang out laundry, and she hadn’t been given leave to step outside.
It was clear her behavior was being monitored, and she didn’t want to run the risk of another scolding. She and Kallah might have had a less than acrimonious interaction, but she didn’t confuse that with believing they had built a true rapport, and she didn’t want to strain the Light Fae woman’s patience any more than she already had, especially since Kallah had the ear of the Queen.
Once she had finished her personal chores, she went in search of the kitchens. They emitted a blast of heat, noise, and energy, and were easy to find. Several people worked on different dishes at once while an intense man barked orders.
Sid had slipped in and out of hotels through the kitchens several times in the past in order to avoid overzealous fans and the press, and as she looked around with interest, she thought this kitchen was not unlike those hotels. They had to feed a lot of people every day.
The intense man caught sight of her, left what he was doing and strode over. “Yes?” he snapped. “What do you want?”
“I missed breakfast,” Sid told him. “I hope it wouldn’t be too much trouble to get something simple, like maybe a slice of bread and butter?”
He pointed at her. “You miss a meal, it’s on you. I create court meals every single day, and I see the servants get fed as well. I don’t have time for anyone who shows up here looking for a snack.”
Sid narrowed her eyes. Clearly, there was a pecking order to this castle, and she was tired of being the one who got pecked on.
“I understand,” she said in a soft, even tone. “I have been rehearsing so intensely to play for the Queen I haven’t been able to make mealtimes yet. Perhaps you will make an exception just this once. If I don’t have the energy to practice properly, I’m sure her majesty won’t be pleased at the result or be very forgiving of the reason why.”
By the slight widening of his eyes, she knew she had scored a hit. “Very well,” he said stiffly. “I will make an exception in your case.”
“I appreciate that.” She smiled.
The Queen’s love for music must be well-known. Perhaps there was leverage to be gained from that. It might not win Sid her freedom, but she could make her life a great deal more comfortable until she could find a way to go home. And there was nothing wrong with doing whatever she could to make her life better in the meantime.
The intense man stalked away. She watched him pluck a small, round golden loaf of bread from a pile set on a large platter. Then he went over to a steaming pot that hung suspended over a fire in the giant fireplace.
His back was to her, so she couldn’t see what he did then. When he returned, he thrust the loaf into her hands, and handed her a plain metal spoon. An appetizing fragrance rose from the loaf. As she inspected it, she saw that he had cut away the top, scooped out the middle of the loaf, and filled it with a thick, meaty stew.
It was so much more than what she had hoped for, she stared at it. “This is amazing,” she told him. “And it smells delicious.”
She must have said the right thing, because his stiffness relaxed. While he did not quite smile at her, he gave her a short nod in acknowledgment of the compliment.
“Be sure to let her majesty know how honored I am to support her love of the arts,” he said. “And you may have as much food as you require whenever you like. Be sure to ask for me.”
If only Sid could reach such an accord with everybody so easily. She nodded in return. “I will,” she replied. “I’ll be sure to ask for you by name.”
“I am Triddick. And you?”
“Sid.”
His expression filled with curiosity. “When do you play for her majesty?”
“Soon,” she told him. “Tomorrow evening.”
“She has exacting tastes,” he told her, not without a good amount of pride, since that reflected on him. “You must be quite nervous.”
“I was yesterday,” she replied with a smile. “Now I’m looking forward to it.”
Arching one eyebrow, he studied her with that intense, narrow stare. “With her music master, Olwen, away visiting his family, you have a rare opportunity. Good luck to you, young lady.”
“Thank you,” she said. Indicating the loaf, she added, “And thanks for breakfast.”
He inclined his head in reply. As she turned away, she almost bumped into a man who had come up behind her.
Looking up, she was about to apologize, when she froze, staring.
The man was obviously human, or at least humanlike, with dark hair, a weathered, cynical face, and wolfish eyes. He had a powerful build and wore leather armor, along with a knife and a sword.
As he ran his gaze down her figure, cold interest glittered in his eyes. “Well, well,” he said. “What delicious tidbit do we have here?”
From behind her, Triddick snapped, “She is not for the likes of you, Warrick.”
“I’ll be the judge of what should be for the likes of me,” the man named Warrick replied in a soft growl while he showed hard, white teeth in a semblance of a smile. “What’s your name, precious? And where can I find you?”
As she listened to the exchange between the two men, her stomach tightened. Heart hammering, she searched Warrick’s cold gaze for any hint that he might be her Magic Man. He seemed to be the right size and build, although she didn’t think she could know for sure unless she put her hands on him.
But the thought of touching him, or allowing him to touch her, made her recoil. His gaze was so predatory. This couldn’t be the man who had healed her, who had talked with her so compassionately and offered her help from a well of his own painful memories.
This couldn’t be the man who had run his hands so gently down her body as he kissed her so passionately…. Could it?
If she’d been wearing the telepathy earrings, she could have asked him. But she had kept them, along with her stones, safely tucked into her pocket. Maybe they worked when they came in contact with her skin?
As she started to slip a hand into her pocket to find out, Triddick snapped, “She’s the Queen’s new musician, and you will leave her alone! Now, this is my domain, and you are not welcome here. Be off with you!”
Warrick’s interest in her shifted to a much more chilling expression. Setting one hand on the hilt of his knife, he said softly to Triddick, “One of these days you’ll snap at me one too many times, old man. And I promise you won’t like what happens next.”
The activity in the kitchen had stilled. Sid noted that all eyes were on them.
“Wow,” she said to Warrick, loud enough for everyone to hear. “How mad do you think the Queen would get if you messed with her food?”
He didn’t like that, she saw as his eyes narrowed and the expression in them flared, quick and hot. But he said nothing more. Instead, after a slow, cold look around the room, he turned on one heel and left.
Watching him leave, she muttered to Triddick, “What an asshole.”
But what if that had all been an act? Warrick was literally the only other person she had seen so far who wasn’t Light Fae.
Triddick focused his attention onto her. “Warrick is one of the Queen’s Hounds, and he’s very dangerous,” he told her in a quiet voice meant for her ears alone. “He would never dare to act in such a way if Morgan were here. You’ll stay away from him, if you know what’s good for you.”
Very dangerous, hmm? With a sinking heart, she realized that would fit with everything Robin had said to her. She didn’t want it to, but it did fit.
And who was this Morgan guy?
Just as she was about to ask Triddick, he strode away, snapping orders to his kitchen staff, and their brief moment of accord was over.
Maybe Kallah would answer some of her questions if Sid could catch her in the right mood. Or better yet, perhaps Myrrah.
Or maybe she should just keep her mouth shut, eat her food, and get back to the music hall. She mustn’t forget all these people had lived here for a long time before she showed up. They would have alliances, grudges, and motivations she couldn’t possibly know anything about.
She also mustn’t forget they were all still watching her.
More than a little rattled, she carried her meal to the music hall. On the route, she had to dodge several servants dressed in brown clothes. One stood still, eyes closed, while a whirlwind like a small tornado moved systematically back and forth over the hall floor.
As Sid stared, dirt was sucked into the whirlwind, and she remembered what Kallah had said about the castle getting cleaned by magic. Even the house cleaners had a generous amount of magic.
After watching for a few moments, she slipped past the worker and hurried on to the music hall. After she ate, she got back to work.
She hadn’t slept enough. She still felt draggy and hungover, but years of discipline had taught her a long time ago how to keep going.
Besides, she could sleep when she was dead.