The day of the boar hunt arrived, and Sly couldn’t wait to leave the heavy atmosphere of the castle. This morn, when he woke, bright orange and purple spots adorned his face. He combed his purple hair and ignored that and the spots. Might as well leave them, because the so-called friends and nasty relatives would only give him another enhancement. Cheap entertainment for them.
Sly entered the family salon to break his fast. His stomach rumbled, hunger a constant companion, but at least his mind didn’t swim with fog. These days, he pretended to sip his hot chocolate in front of Alfric and took it with him to his bathroom suite. Once there, he tipped out a healthy measure. He thought hard before he spoke and attempted to appear dim-witted. Only with Liam did he act himself.
Once his court duties ended in the eve, he read the books Liam gave him and walked to the lake. Sometimes he saw the owl, but not always. The white stag he saw most nights, although he didn’t inform Liam.
Liam reminded him of his brothers. Saber would like Liam, and he thought Liam would do well with Saber too.
His brothers. A memory had come without forcing.
Flushed with success, he attempted more. Shards of pain drove away the recollections, and the windows of his mind slammed shut. Crap. “Freakin’ magic,” he muttered, aggravation tightening every muscle. He halted, closed his eyes, breathing shallowly until the slashes of pain reduced. Only then did he resume walking.
“Good morning.” Sly greeted the two security guards at the door.
“My lord. Your face,” one said with a gesture.
“Your hair.” The second grimaced.
“Orange and purple spots. Purple hair. I know. I’ve decided to leave them be. People keep giving me extra appendages and a series of spots.” As he spoke, he felt his ears growing. He reached up to stroke long, furry ears, much like a donkey’s. “And it seems today I must be an ass.”
“I’m sorry, my lord,” one of the security guards said. “Ah, your hair is now orange.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sly said with a roll of eyes. “Let them have their malicious entertainment. At least if they’re picking on me, they’re not hurting others.”
“You are an honorable man,” the other guard said. “I believe I’ll join you in dressing up today.” He flicked his wrist, and purple and orange spots appeared on his cheeks and chin. He went with matching streaky hair.
The second security guard sniggered. “I think I’ll go with matching ears.” He waved his hand, the air vibrating in what Sly knew was a power boost from the ley lines. Purple spots. Orange spots. One purple ear. One orange ear.
Sly grinned, and his ears flapped and twitched as he nodded. “Lookin’ good.”
Liam strolled down the passage toward them and did a comical double take. “What’s going on?”
“My color scheme for the day.” Sly gestured at his face. “The guards decided to join the fashion.”
Liam cocked his head, waved his hand, and Sly watched his face turn a delicate purple. Then orange spots popped out on his cheeks. His ears grew longer. One purple ear flopped forward while the other stood at attention.
“I’m hungry,” Liam said.
Sly’s belly rumbled at the mention of food.
“How’s the head?”
“A few twinges. Not too bad.”
Liam wriggled his ears. They were mesmerizing in a tick-tock kinda way. “Excellent. Take care today.”
The security guards opened the door, and Liam sailed through with Sly on his heels. The chatter died as everyone stared. Lord Calum sniggered.
Liam halted abruptly, glowered at the amused faces and smirks. “Why aren’t your faces decorated? It was on the entertainment schedule this morn. Aw.” He stomped his foot.
Sly covered his grin with his hand at the show of pouty temper.
“It spoils the fun if you don’t play.” Liam clapped his hands three times. “Quick. Party faces. Last one decorated must help the latrine servants.”
With that, spots popped and ears sprouted. Hair changed color. Laughter rose as each attempted to outdo the next.
“Sit by me,” Liam said. “And remember my orders regarding food. Hello, lovely ladies. May we join you?”
Liam ignored the renewed whispers and claimed the two empty spots with a pair of elderly ladies, eschewing his usual seat at the head of the high table. “Aunt Jasper, you don’t have your funny face. Would you allow me the honor?”
“You’re a young scamp,” the other elderly lady said with a titter. “Your nephew has always been a scamp. It won’t be long before you take a wife,” she added. “Ooh, that’s pretty. I’d like similar spots to match my outfit.”
“Your wish is my command,” Liam said and murmured a few words.
Liam’s aunt clapped her hands in eagerness. “Do we fit now?”
“Yes. Very dignified, yet part of the fun,” Sly said. “May we join you or are your boyfriends coming to sit with you?”
Liam smiled broadly as the elderly ladies tittered again.
“Sit. Sit.” The lady with a coronet of steel-gray hair and lilac spots on her face gestured them toward the empty seats.
A footman arrived and waited gravely, his manner at odds with his face freckled with bright pink spots.
“We’ll have a large pot of chocolate,” Liam said. “A pot of tay for Sly plus a dish of eggs, vegetables and fried wild boar. Just place everything on the same platter, and we’ll serve ourselves. Ladies, have you ordered?”
“Not yet,” his aunt said. “We’ll have the same, and we’d like a platter of fruit, please.”
“Perfect,” Liam said with a conspiratorial wink at Sly.
“Where are you from, lad?” Liam’s aunt asked. “We’ve heard much gossip but little fact about you. Iseabal ignores my questions.”
Liam sent him a warning glance, and he took heed. Best to pretend cluelessness.
“Oh, Aunt. Would you mind interrogating him another time? We intended to discuss the wild boar hunt. Sly and I heard some in Landos wood yesterday. Do you hunt with us?”
“Not these old bones,” his aunt said, successfully diverted. “I thought to explore the floral gardens. I understand your gardeners have produced some unique Saratoga blooms.”
“And you, my lady?” Sly asked.
“Call me Beatrice,” the elderly lady said and patted his hand.
“I am Lady Jasper,” Liam’s aunt said. “I told you my nephew is a scamp. He didn’t even do formal introductions.”
“I understood Iseabal introduced you to our family members,” Liam said.
“She was busy with her duties yesterday during and after the funeral announcement.” Sly aimed for tactful. In truth, the princess had chattered with her ladies-in-waiting and entertained her newly arrived friends. She’d left him alone and hadn’t spoken up when one of the guests—he suspected Calum’s younger brother—gave him a long black tail. It made sitting difficult until another guest had taken pity on him.
Their food arrived, and after Aunt Jasper, Beatrice and Liam tucked into the eggs, Sly followed suit. The tay was hot and sweet and perfect.
The salon door flew open and Princess Iseabal stormed inside. She came to a screeching halt. “What is the meaning of this? King Fionnghall has died. We should not spend the time in frivolity. Fix it at once before I lose my temper!”
“I knew this would happen.” Liam’s chair scraped across the flagstone as he stood.
“Liam!”
Sly had never seen his betrothed at a loss for words.
“What is happening?” she demanded.
“Merely a little fun. I decided everyone was too serious this morn.” He gestured at the dozens of diners. “Those who are interested in a wild boar hunt, we leave in one hour. Meet at the stable courtyard. If you require a weapon, speak with the armorer.”
“Do you shoot, my lord?” Beatrice enquired.
“No, I hunt on foot.”
“On foot?” Aunt Jasper asked. “Is that not dangerous?”
“I…” Sly’s thoughts tangled the instant he focused on the retrieved memory. In lieu of an answer, he ate his eggs.
“Where did you say you come from?” Lady Jasper asked.
Sly helped himself to more vegetables. “Earth.”
“Earth?” Beatrice queried. “I’ve never heard of it. Is it far?”
“Yes, Aunt. It is many, many annum cycles of journey.” Liam set his cutlery on his plate and wiped his mouth. “That was delicious.”
“Yes, it was,” Sly agreed. “My stomach has stopped rumbling.”
“Sly!” Princess Iseabal hailed him.
“Go over,” Liam murmured. “Do not eat anything she offers you. I will be along to rescue you shortly.”
Sly rose and approached the high table.
“Good morning, Princess Iseabal.” As he waited to learn the reason for her summons, a pair of cat’s whiskers grew below his nose. Strange that they seemed so natural. He noted no one had dared magic the princess. Her complexion remained golden and clear.
“What kind of name is Sly?” one of Princess Iseabal’s friends asked.
“It is short for Sylvester.” Huh, he knew that. Hadn’t hesitated. A mistake.
The princess’s eyes narrowed, and she waved at the seat to her right, currently occupied by Lady Majorca. “Sit there.”
At least Sly thought that was her name. The ladies-in-waiting dressed the same, and during the evening they wore the same white gowns as Cinnabar.
Sly froze as a memory of the woman flitted through his mind. His lips tried to smile but one glance at the princess suggested restraint. Not the place. Even so, a rumble of a purr vibrated his chest.
“Your lady-in-waiting hasn’t finished her meal,” Sly said.
“Sit there!” Whip-crack words.
The hair at the back of Sly’s neck lifted.
The salon fell silent, the princess and her end of the table the focal point.
“You’re losing weight. You need to eat,” the princess gentled her voice. “I don’t wish you to sicken.”
“Sly ate a huge breakfast with me, Aunt Jasper and Beatrice,” Liam said.
Sly’s held breath eased out. Hell.
“Then why is he so skinny?” Princess Iseabal thundered. “He is my betrothed. I worry about him.”
So why did she let everyone pick on him, make him the butt of their jokes when he had no way of reciprocating? His misfortune amused her. He’d seen her laughing at his cloven feet as he tripped, suddenly off balance.
“Iseabal.” Liam patted the back of his sister’s hand. “Sly is fit and healthy. I’ll summon the medicine crones from the winter court if you wish. We have eaten and are heading to view the yearling cambeests. Just a quick look since the wild boar hunt commences soon. Anyone who wishes to hunt is welcome. Father used to enjoy hunting and eating wild boar, and I think it will be fitting if we send him off while eating his favorite dish.”
At King Liam’s invitation, the dozens of relatives and friends broke into excited chatter.
Relief struck Sly until he glimpsed Princess Iseabal’s flaring nostrils and flinty gaze. That wasn’t good. He needed to stay far, far away until her temper cooled.
At that moment, someone zapped their sneaky magic into prominence. Turquoise-colored dots sprang out on Princess Iseabal’s temper-red cheeks.
“Whoever did that, cease.” Ice coated the crisp words.
Sly’s donkey-size ears suddenly reduced to small pointy ears to match his whiskers, and he grew a tail.
“I said stop it! Everyone looks ridiculous. This sort of behavior would shock Father. It’s disrespectful. This is his wake, not…not a p-party.” Tears formed in her beautiful blue eyes, and Sly stared, unsure if her breakdown was genuine or manufactured.
“Iseabal, this is not about you,” Liam said, every inch of him a king. “You let everyone poke fun at Sly and play practical jokes on him. It’s not fair since he can’t respond. Instead, your friends laugh behind his back. You let them because it amuses you. You speak of respect, yet you show none for your fiancé. Stew on that while we’re gone. Come, Sly. I told the men we’d arrive early. They have other things to do this day.”
Liam waved his hand, and Sly’s tail, ears and whiskers vanished. The extra appendages and colorful spots disappeared from friends and family until only Princess Iseabal stood out with spots—no they were warts—on her cheeks.
Sly blinked. Frak it. Was her nose bigger than before?
The nearest lady-in-waiting clapped her hand over her mouth.
Princess Iseabal’s nose was larger, and pointy at the end like a storybook witch.
She gasped and whispered a quick magical chant. Her magic didn’t stop her nose growing, didn’t stop the warts growing on her cleavage, didn’t stop the tail from forcing through the back of her gown.
“Liam, stop!” Princess Iseabal ordered.
“No.” Liam cocked his head to the side. “I want you to taste an absence of magic.”
“But our family from the winter court starts arriving today,” she wailed, finally ceasing her chants.
“The warts, nose and tail will reduce during the day,” Liam said.
“But you never said anything before.” Princess Katrina came to the aid of her twin.
The first time Sly had ever witnessed their sisterly bond. Normally, they were standoffish toward each other. He’d never do that to his twin. Joe would never—
Shock broke off the thought.
He had a twin brother.
“I shouldn’t have to intervene!” Liam barked. “Respect for others. Our mother taught us that. She’d be ashamed of your behavior. All of you! A few practical jokes are fine. A sense of fun, but it is never right to crush someone weaker, someone who can’t fight back. Think on that while I’m gone.” He jerked his chin toward the door. “Come, Sly. We’re late.”
Sly trailed Liam from the silent salon. As soon as they turned the corner, the whispers started. When they reached the halfway point of the passage, a furious scream rang out.
“Magic it away!” Princess Iseabal shrieked.
Sly didn’t hear any replies, but as they exited the castle, the next scream that rippled from the salon held enough fury to scare the owl from her roost. She flew to Sly and perched on his left shoulder, her entire frame quivering.
“Shush.” Sly stroked the russet feathers. “It’s all right, Cinnabar. The princess is angry at Liam.”
Liam halted and pivoted to face him. “Cinnabar?”
Sly blinked, and the owl squished closer to his neck, trying to burrow beneath the collar of his gray shirt.
“Why did you call the owl Cinnabar?”
Sly crashed against one of those invisible walls in his mind. A frown etched into his brow but pushing his brain sent shards of pain darting to his temples. “I don’t know.” He brightened though as a loose thought jumped to the forefront. “I have a brother,” he announced. “A twin.”
Now it was Liam’s turn to glower. “As far as I know, Iseabal and Katrina are the only twins in the kingdom. There are none in the winter court. Where did you come from? Iseabal must’ve brought you through the main entrance, yet no one saw anything. I made inquiries.”
An idea fluttered before a wall slammed up and the vague memories exploded into dust. “I’ve got nothing.”
“Damn.” Liam recommenced his determined path to the stable yard. “I wish the wise medicine crones were here. They spend six months in each court.”
“Why? People must have need of them. Get sick.”
“There is little illness in the kingdom.”
“The king?”
“Father was old. We live long lives. I know he missed my mother and pined to join her in Utopia.”
“But how do you know it wasn’t something serious? Something other than old age?”
“What are you suggesting?” Liam asked.
“Well, could it have been poison? You’ve told me not to eat food unless you deliver it to me. If something in my food is causing my memory loss, then perhaps a similar drug was administered to the king?”
“No one would dare,” Liam snapped, and his eyes morphed into a fiery red instead of the normal tranquil blue. “Everyone loved my father.”
Sly raised his hands in surrender and backed up a step. “I didn’t mean to anger you. I’m still learning the ways of your world and reading through the history books you’ve lent me. But previous kings have died from poisoning.”
“When? I don’t recall reading that.”
The red of Liam’s eyes reduced and Sly lowered his hands. “Not in Seelie’s recent history, but two thousand years ago. Three of your kings were poisoned, and it got so diabolical the court hired a food taster. Two of them died before the Council of Balance captured the culprit. Do you still have a Council of Balance?”
“No, they were disbanded as obsolete. Who did it?”
“The younger brother and sister worked together because they desired power.”
Liam gaped at Sly. “You think one of my sisters… No, they wouldn’t. Why would they?”
“The king has absolute power. His magic is strongest in the kingdom, thanks to the staff of power. For some people, power is an aphrodisiac. It’s a lure. All I’m saying is you should take care. Set procedures in place to make it difficult for others to unseat you in this manner.”
“I’ll think about it,” Liam said as the stable lads led out their cambeests.
“I’m probably wrong,” Sly offered. “But you’re my friend. I’d hate anything to happen to you.”
“The court is always full of intrigue and secrets, maneuvering for position. You’re right to warn me. I spend—or have spent—much time away to avoid the petty backstabbing. I enjoy working the land and helping our people prosper.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “It’s not such a big jump to murder.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to spoil your day.”
Liam lowered his voice. “I never wanted to be king. If I could trust Iseabal to behave with integrity, I’d consider handing the staff of power to her.”
Once away from the castle, Sly relaxed. The owl continued to perch on his shoulder, appearing to enjoy its roost.
“You realize my suspicions will work overtime now,” Liam said as they cantered past the lake. “Crap, that white stag is there again. I don’t like the way he’s hanging around. It’s an unlucky omen.”
“I spend my entire day looking over my shoulder, but terrible things still happen. Do you know how difficult it is to control a tail while in human form? I’ve never had to do that before.”
“What? What did you say?”
“I said…ah…I don’t remember. What did I say?”
“You said something about controlling your tail, as if you were used to having one.”
“But I don’t have a tail. Not unless some idiot magics one there. Your friends find it amusing.”
“I wonder,” Liam said. “I wonder if that is possible.”
“Wonder if what is possible?”
“Maybe you’re an animal. But no, that wouldn’t make sense. You’re too intelligent. Animals can’t read.” He tapped his chin, his thoughts turning inward. “I need to check a few things. Don’t want to raise your hopes. Do you wish to marry my sister?”
“I don’t like her,” Sly said, going for honesty. Damn, his mouth was sore again. He patted his pocket and found the salve container. He’d apply some once they arrived at their destination. “I keep saying I don’t understand why I’m here or why she wishes our marriage to go ahead.”
“My guess.” Liam tapped his chin. “She desires a biddable husband. One of Calvin’s security guards asked her to marry him.”
“A security guard?”
“Trevelyan comes from a powerful family. He’s strong. Intelligent. Decisive. Your lack of magic presents a unique opportunity. Iseabal can strengthen her position as my heir without a husband getting in her way.”
Sly snorted, insulted at the portrayal even though Liam spoke the truth. “Which leads right back to my original discussion. Is it possible that someone murdered your father to place themselves in a better position to seize the throne?”