Cinnabar perched in a tree. Two arrows. Two. She hadn’t seen the shooter but had heard them and glimpsed the top of their bow. He or she had known they weren’t shooting wild boars. By the time she’d thought to discover the shooter’s identity, they’d vanished.
Sly lurched without warning.
“He’s out,” King Liam said. “Let’s get him onto a cambeest while he’s unconscious.”
They managed to lift him, and the stable lad leapt astride the cambeest to hold Sly in position.
Cinnabar flew from branch to branch, tremors shaking her feathers. She should have warned them sooner and signaled the danger. What if Sly died, and she never had a chance to speak with him, touch him again?
They arrived at the stable yards and Liam bellowed for help. The other groups hadn’t returned yet.
“We’ll take him to his chamber—”
Cinnabar squawked and ruffled her wings. She stepped from foot to foot and issued a sharp shriek.
The king paused, his contemplative gaze connecting with hers.
Please don’t leave him alone. It’s dangerous.
“No, on second thought, we’ll carry him to my chamber.”
Cinnabar relaxed a fraction as King Liam and the stable boys lugged Sly to the castle.
“The side entrance,” King Liam ordered.
As they approached the door, the two security guards rushed to help. Cinnabar shifted course and flew to the other side of the castle. She settled on the ledge outside King Liam’s tower chamber. Frying fungus, she had turned into a peeping Tom. Hopefully King Liam wouldn’t rip off his clothes. She blinked. Seeing the king naked might be a punishable crime.
She waited until the men carried Sly into the chamber and set him on King Liam’s bed. The king noticed her immediately. She stiffened, ready to take flight if the king approached. He did, and she lifted into the air, flapping her wings to hover out of reach.
King Liam pushed open the window. “We’re removing the arrows as soon as we have medical supplies. Hopefully we won’t need them, and my magic will still his bleeding.” He paused and grimaced. “Although why I’m telling you, I have no idea.” He turned his attention to Sly. “Where are the medical supplies?”
Cinnabar took a risk, worry urging her to move closer. Her talons curled around the stone window ledge, and she fluffed out her wings, settling in to watch the proceedings. Sly had to be all right. He had to. He should’ve regained consciousness by now.
King Liam’s valet appeared with an armful of bandages and salves. He disappeared and returned with a basin of water.
“Right. Let’s get those arrows out and the bleeding stopped before he wakes,” King Liam ordered.
“Too late,” Sly mumbled from the bed. “Jeez, my shoulder hurts like a bitch.”
“Okay, Sly,” King Liam said. “Inconvenient of you to wake now, but let’s get this done.”
Sly checked the room until his attention fastened on her. He grinned, or tried to. It was more of a grimace of bared teeth. “Hell, yeah.”
The king gripped the shaft of an arrow and yanked while muttering a quick booster spell. The arrow emerged a bit at a time, Sly’s groan tortured.
Cinnabar ached to offer comfort, but what could an owl do? Nothing. This curse cut like a knife, attacking her again and again, stabbing her in the heart.
This wasn’t living.
This was a hellish punishment with no end.
Cinnabar’s agitation ruffled her feathered breast. She hopped through the window and alighted nearer the bed.
“Your Majesty,” his valet protested. “Why is the owl inside?”
“It’s Sly’s pet. Let it be,” King Liam said.
Pet? She was no one’s pet, but she did belong to Sly. That part was true.
Cinnabar ached in her anguish. She needed human fingers to massage away the pain. Instead, she blinked and watched the proceedings.
The king mumbled a spell as the second blood-tipped arrow emerged from Sly’s arm with a horrid sucking whoosh.
“Damp cloth,” King Liam ordered.
The valet handed it to him. “You shouldn’t be doing this, Your Majesty. Let me do it for you.”
“Sly deserves nothing less than my personal attention. He saved me from an arrow. Whoever shot him was aiming for me, and Sly pushed me out of the way. Damn, the bleeding has stopped but the flesh isn’t knitting together as I’d expect.”
“Is he gonna be all right?” the stable lad asked, the one who been with them during the attack.
“Shush, lad,” the valet ordered. “Get back to your duties. The rest of you, too.”
“Thank you for your help,” King Liam said as they departed. “I’ll send a message to the stables later and let you know how Sly is doing.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” The stable lad lifted his chin. “We like Sly. He’s a respectable man and doesn’t deserve this.”
Cinnabar agreed. The king’s expression indicated a like mind.
“Can you magic the salve, Your Majesty?” his valet asked.
“I’ll try. At least the bleeding has stopped. I intend to change things around here, Gilbert. Once the winter king comes, I’ll discuss my ideas with him.”
Determined footsteps clicked on the stone floor outside the king’s chamber. Cinnabar lifted her head, hooted and fled to the open window. She took flight seconds before the door thumped, but she guessed the new arrival’s identity.
Princess Iseabal, and she’d want to know why Sly wasn’t in his own chamber.
Princess Iseabal stomped through the door. Damn her brother for interfering! He knew something. No, he suspected she was up to something. That was the difference. She had to get the priest to complete the banns. No one would object then. They wouldn’t dare.
Sly lay on Liam’s bed while her brother attended him.
“Why are you treating him?” she demanded. “Why didn’t you send me a message?”
“You were still on the hunt,” Liam said without glancing up. “I didn’t want to spoil your enjoyment.”
Iseabal ground her teeth together and bit back the angry words festering for release. Liam would not derail her plans. She stuffed tension-stiff hands in the pockets of her hunting gown. “Sly is my betrothed. Of course I am concerned. Why bring him to your tower? What is wrong with Sly’s chamber?”
“Someone shot two arrows into him. I want him safe, and my personal security team can provide protection.”
“No one would dare attack my betrothed within the castle.”
“Someone shot him in the royal forest.” Liam stood and glowered at her, eyes red and flashing with ire.
Iseabal took half a step back, such was the force of her brother’s fury. “You think this was intentional?”
“We called out after the first arrow struck Sly. The archer knew he’d hit one of us rather than a wild boar. What other conclusion is there?”
“You think I— Why would I want Sly dead? I intend to marry him. And if it wasn’t for Father’s wake and the funeral, the priest would’ve called the final banns. The final banns will be called on the first service after the mourning period. Sly and I will marry.” She refused to fail. Her plan must continue if she was to rule the kingdom. Calum gloated, reveled in his new position. Bastard. She had no idea why her twin had wed the weasel.
Marriage to Calum had changed Katrina. She was quieter. More proper and never offered an opinion. And Liam…her brother let his soft emotions rule him instead of using a cool head.
She packed away her goals, planted herself in the present. “Is Sly conscious?”
“Just,” Sly croaked.
Liam’s expression told her she’d blundered. She hadn’t asked after Sly, asked about his injuries. Should’ve done that first. Shoodlepoppers. “Are you hungry? Let me order soup from the kitchen. I’ll feed Sly while you clean up. Our cousin should arrive soon for the wake.”
“I’m not hungry. Just wanna sleep,” Sly said.
Iseabal circled the bed. His eyes fluttered closed, his breathing evened out. Blast. “He has lost weight. I’ve noticed he’s not eating much.” Which was a nuisance. The dual spell she’d placed on him required a top up. She could do this. Hold things together until the wedding.
Liam straightened, cocked his head as the watchman blasted his horn three times. “Calvin approaches. Come, let us leave Sly to sleep and greet our cousin.”
Iseabal retraced her footsteps and stood at the end of the bed. “Do you know if Trevelyan is attending the funeral?”
“As far as I know, Calvin intended to bring his security team with him.”
Blast. Trevelyan thought he owned her, had asked her to marry him. The time he’d kissed her… No, she refused to forfeit her rights for a man. Trevelyan would boss her around, expect her to cede power to him.
No. No, she refused. Sly was the better option for her plan to succeed. Somehow, she’d get spelled food into Sly and make sure he didn’t regain his memory. “I’ll fetch a warm wrap. You’ll need a jacket too. The temperature will drop.”
“Excellent point. See you in the courtyard.”
“No, you’re the king. You—”
“I expect both you and Katrina in the courtyard to greet our guests.” Liam stalked off to find a jacket.
She stiffened and the blood rushed to her head. Her skin heated then a chill swept her. Should she do a sneaky counter spell to boost her power over Sly? A vibration tickled her arm. Liam returned. Damn and blast, there was no time.
With a last glance at Sly, she swept from Liam’s tower and detoured to hers. She required Cinnabar. Once inside her chamber, she opened her window to search for the owl and sent her maid to bring a plate of hazelberry cookies to get rid of flapping ears. Tap. Tap. Tap. Where the devil was Cinnabar? Iseabal paced, sent a mental call and, as she turned, a whoosh of wings announced Cinnabar’s arrival.
“Where were you?” Iseabal demanded. “You must stay on your perch.”
Cinnabar hooted—a soft acknowledgment.
“I want you to watch Sly. He’s resting in King Liam’s chamber. The instant he’s alone, I want you to let me know. Do you understand?”
Cinnabar hooted again.
“Don’t fail me. Are you hungry?”
Cinnabar blinked.
Iseabal cocked her head, smiled, warmth flooding her chest. She wanted to laugh, to share this delicious joke with everyone. Cinnabar had always done the right thing, shown Iseabal up with her proper behavior, her so-called grace. “I have a mouselet for your dinner.”
Iseabal conjured a glove and plucked the wriggling mouselet from a jar she’d acquired earlier.
Cinnabar stared at the mouselet as if mesmerized, yet her eyes held a hint of dazed horror.
Iseabal laughed and dangled the gray creature in front of Cinnabar. “Don’t be shy now. Eat up.”
* * * * *
Sly pushed out a breath the instant the door closed after Princess Iseabal. But he didn’t make the mistake of moving, not until a full five minutes passed and his senses told him he was alone. In the bedroom, at least. The low murmur of voices and the rub of fabric as the wearer shifted his or her weight sounded. Liam’s security guards, he presumed.
Using his arms, he gingerly pushed himself upright. Huh. Surely, that should’ve hurt more. He peeled away the crisp white bandage covering his arm and blinked at the slightly red flesh where the first arrow had speared him.
The owl appeared at the window, and Sly stood, striding over to let it inside again. “Cinnabar.” He kept his voice low so the security guards didn’t overhear. “Check out my arm.”
He showed her the healed wound.
Cinnabar hooted—an enquiring sound—and stared at the other bandage strapped around his upper chest and shoulder.
“Yes, let’s check my other war wound. It doesn’t throb. Not like it should. Liam worried ’cause his magic didn’t work.” Sly sat on the edge of the bed and removed the dressing. “That’s weird. What do you make of that?”
Cinnabar sidled closer.
Sly stroked her head. “I’ve missed you.”
Cinnabar cooed and leaned into his touch.
“My mind went blank again, but it’s not at present. I have a brother. More than one. My family and I came from Earth. That’s all I remember so far, but it’s a start. Has Liam’s cousin arrived?”
The owl whistled.
“I need to leave Seelie. I wonder if Liam’s cousin would allow me to travel with him.”
Cinnabar bounced up and down in place and hooted.
“Yes, you’re probably right. Leaving will be tricky. Liam might help. I’ll tell him everything I recall. There are still blanks. Hopefully, I’ll remember more.”
Sly prowled the confines of Liam’s chamber, his mind busy while he considered his past and his future. “Has Liam discovered who shot at him?”
“Who. Hoo. Hoo,” Cinnabar said and added a whistle.
“No? I’ll ask him when he changes for dinner. Meantime, I’m stuck here. I don’t want to run into Iseabal. Excuse me, Princess Iseabal.” No mistaking that sarcasm. It said everything. He’d never respect a woman who demanded such formality. It wasn’t his way. He tugged at that string of thought and smacked into a wall. Not as solid. He’d smash through soon, and find the answers he sought.
The voices outside the door grew louder. Every muscle in his body tensed as he listened intently.
“It’s Liam,” Sly said finally, relaxing.
The door opened and Liam stalked inside.
“You’re awake.” His gaze shifted to Sly’s arm. He halted mid-stride, did a rapid eye blink. “Your arm. It’s healed.” He closed the remaining distance between them and ran his fingers over the reddened skin. “Does it hurt?”
“No, it’s fine.”
“The other one is almost healed too. I don’t understand. My magic didn’t work. Even I don’t heal that fast, and my body responds to magic. Hmm, maybe I need to spend more time practicing.”
“Have you learned anything about the archer who shot at you?” Sly held out his arm. The owl jumped on and transferred to his shoulder.
Liam stared, shook his head. “I’ve asked questions, checked with the stable lads. None of them saw anything unusual. I’ve arranged to question everyone on the morn.”
“You need to watch yourself. Take care of what you eat and drink,” Sly suggested.
“I can’t believe one of my subjects is trying to do away with me. It’s unthinkable.”
“Someone tried to skewer you with their arrows,” Sly countered, then changed the subject. “How can I leave Seelie?”
“You want to leave?”
“I don’t belong here. This isn’t my home.”
“Have you remembered everything? Do you know where you come from? The location of this resort?”
Sly slumped. “No. All I know is that Seelie isn’t home. I want to search for my family. My brothers.”
“I’ve come to think of you as my friend. Someone I can share my thoughts with and receive a sensible reply. You don’t treat me like a royal. You tell me what you think even if you know it differs from my opinions. That’s rare in Seelie. You know about farming. None of my so-called friends are interested in farming or the land, yet this is where our wealth lies.”
“Just because I want to leave, it doesn’t mean we can’t continue our friendship. But you must understand this is strange. Somehow, your sister has done this to me. I don’t know where she found me but my home can’t be far away.”
The owl cooed and cuddled into his neck.
“Aye, as far as I know, she didn’t leave here overnight. I must check with the guards on the gate to double check her movements. I’ll contact the guards now.”
The technology here seemed strange and, now Sly considered it, unfamiliar to him. Liam stared into the distance before walking to the transparent globe in the corner of his chamber. The globe lit and glowed a pale blue.
“Yes, sire,” the head security guard said.
“Did my sister, the Princess Iseabal, leave Seelie while I was away on my last business trip?”
“No, Your Majesty,” the guard said. “I’m positive. I would’ve sent at least two guards with her, the same as usual. Let me investigate further. My guards were grumbling about boredom, so I sent them off training. As far as I know, your private guards were the only ones to leave Seelie recently.”
“Thank you,” Liam said. “Please send six guards to the castle. We’ve had trouble here, and I’d like the extra security since the winter court have arrived. I’ll speak to my cousin and coordinate our security.”
“Aye, Your Majesty.”
Liam ended the call. “You heard what he said. She didn’t leave.”
“Could she use her magic?”
“She doesn’t have enough power to bring you in that way.”
“Could you?”
“Perhaps, but it’d drain my reserves.”
“She managed it somehow.” Sly threw up his hands. “Your sister brought me here, and you’re putting up stop signs, trying to halt me from leaving.”
“No!” Then Liam scowled. “You’re right. I am. As soon as the funeral is over, I’ll force Iseabal to give us answers. If I ask her, she repeats her story of meeting you at her friend’s party. The friend backs up her claims.”
The owl hooted in alarm. Sly tensed as he, too, heard determined footsteps. As voices became audible, the owl sped out the open window.
“Iseabal,” Liam muttered.
Sly grabbed the bandage and leaped into the bed. He yanked the covers up to his shoulders and pretended sleep.
Liam cursed. “Gratafire.” He stomped to the door and flung it open. “Cease your noise. Sly is asleep. How can you be so inconsiderate? The man took an arrow for me.”
Taut silence fell, and Sly wished it was possible to use more than his hearing to decipher the blast of tension.
“You never said the arrows were intended for you.” Iseabal broke the hush.
“I thought I did,” Liam answered.
“Any clues as to who’s responsible?”
Sly discerned nothing but surprise. Concern. If Iseabal had organized the archer, she was a hell of an actress. But, given her behavior to date, that didn’t surprise him.
“Not yet,” Liam said. “But I’m investigating.”
“Please call me when my betrothed awakens,” she said briskly. “I’ll contact the kitchen and organize a meal for Sly.”
“Thank you,” Liam said. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Where are you sleeping?”
“I’ll worry about that later.”
Iseabal tut-tutted. “My betrothed has a perfectly fine bed in his chamber. I don’t know why you brought him up here.”
“I wanted my private security to guard him,” Liam stated, his tone every inch the king.
“As you wish. You’re the king.” Iseabal backpedaled.
The door shut.
“You’re safe now,” Liam murmured.
“Iseabal hardly ever calls me by my name. I’m a possession. If I were her fiancé, she’d let me kiss her, address her informally. I don’t get the no-contact rules. They’re archaic.”
“You remember me telling you about the rules for royal princesses?”
“Yeah. Cinnabar mentioned a few things too.” Sly wrinkled his brow.
“Cinnabar ran off with a man from the winter court. Iseabal was most irked. Where did you meet Cinnabar?”
“I…” Sly hesitated, running smack into another one of those mind walls. They sprang up and down like faulty automatic gates when Liam asked direct questions. “All I recall is the name.”
Liam nodded. “I’d better dress for dinner. It will be a late night. You’ll like my cousin. I’ll get my valet to organize a trundle bed.”
“Have you told your cousin about the attempt on your life?”
“I will as soon as we have a private moment. If I hurry, we might manage a drink together before the rest of the guests come down for dinner.”
“Can I read your books?”
Liam gestured at his desk and bookcase at the far side of the chamber. “You may. I’ve arranged for my valet to get food for you.” He paused as someone scraped on the door. “Ah, there he is now. This food is safe to eat, but don’t eat anything else that arrives.”
“I won’t.”
The prince flung off his jacket and shirt and hurried to his en suite. Minutes later, water poured against tiles and the king warbled an off-tune song. Sly grinned. Just as well he was a king. He’d never make a living as a singer.
The evening passed as slow as dripping honey on a chilly day. A tap-tap-tap at his window claimed his attention. The owl. He opened the window and the bird entered. Loud music and chatter floated up from the courtyard before he refastened the window.
“My mind is a winter paddock—full of mud and icy slush.” Sly tugged his hair, frustration pressing like a vice around his head. Thump. Thump. Thump. He pressed his temples and rubbed, attempting to will away his brain turmoil.
Sly closed his eyes, sucked in a huge breath and released it slowly.
“I remember a place. It’s in a valley and surrounded by hills. I think it is summer because the sun is warm. There are trees and paddocks. Crops in the ground. And stones. There are strange stones on the hill. They remind me of building blocks—lumps of wood and plastic that I played with as a child. It’s almost as if a giant has come along and tossed his building blocks on the ground. Do you think that is my home?” Sly sank onto the end of the bed. “Sometimes I think my mind is clearing and then it goes murky again.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “Crap, I don’t know what is wrong with my mouth but it’s sore. Where is my salve? Ah, there it is.”
The owl flew to the tub of salve and ferried it to Sly.
“Thanks.” He gingerly applied the white paste. It tingled, but the ointment helped relieve the dryness.
“It must be late. I might try to sleep.”
The owl flew to the upright dresser at the side of the bed.
Sly laughed. “Bossy thing, aren’t you?” He stripped off his clothes and chuckled as he noted the owl’s wide eyes. “I’m healed. A miracle. I wish I knew how I did it.”
He slid into bed. “Lights off.”
The lights went out. Sly’s eyes adjusted quickly to the gloom, and he watched the owl resettle by the bed. Tired, he closed his eyes.
He dreamed of big black cats. Leopards. They raced through the stony outcrops, chasing each other in a frantic game of hide and seek. Then, a large white ball appeared from somewhere. Other big cats joined the game. Lions and tigers. Spotted leopards. Black leopards. They played in teams, giving no quarter until the air hissed from the ball when a tiger sank in his teeth. Sly chortled, his gruff huh-huh-huh echoed by the others.
“Sly. Sly.” A sweet, feminine voice woke him. “Sly, move over. I’m cold.”
“Cinnabar?” he asked, his mind groggy but supplying him a name. At her insistent push, he shifted toward the center of the wide bed. “Yikes, woman. Your feet are cold.”
She cuddled up to him. “You’re so warm. I’ve missed you.”
Sly wrapped his arms around her shivering and very naked body. His mind cleared and his body wakened as her breasts flattened against his chest. “I’ve missed you too.” Some of their background, the memories of their past, failed him, but her presence lightened him. He liked her. Kisses. Yes, they’d done this before. Where? Where? Dammit to hell. He should remember more of her. More than a mere name.
“Where did we meet?”
Her hand halted his next question, his demand for answers. “We’re together,” she whispered. “Let’s make the most of it. Kiss me.”
Yes. He wanted her. Craved her touch. Her kisses. Her body. Questions later.
He rolled without warning, so he loomed over her slight body, imprisoning her within the cage of his arms.
Cinnabar’s bright blue eyes twinkled at him. “That’s better,” she said, and her shy smile charmed him.
He lowered his head.
“Your mouth is better,” she whispered.
“My mouth?”
“Yes.”
She was right. Somehow that fact had slid into brain sludge. He touched his lips to hers. Yeah. A bit tender, but not too painful that he couldn’t get serious.
Playfully, he nipped her bottom lip. Enjoyed her swift intake of air. The soft moan. His tongue smoothed the spot he’d nibbled. He traced the curve and when she opened for him, he accepted the invitation to explore.
Her small hands stroked his back, her touch soothing and arousing. Hellfire, she made him want to purr.
Purr? Where the hell had that come from?
Sly laughed at himself, his fanciful brain. He’d taken a path into plain weird, dreaming of cats and now purring. She pinched his arse and a rumble escaped him. Heck. Now he even sounded like a cat. And his mind was wandering. Idiot. Bed. Beautiful woman. Willing woman. Hard-on. He had all the ingredients for pleasure and he sank into thoughts.
Yep. Imbecile.
He shoved aside his thoughts to kiss her, diving into taste and feel and the roar of blood through his veins. His cock pushed against her belly. Better. Much better. His tongue stroked lazily against hers until the need for air had him parting their mouths.
He nibbled her neck, pausing at the fleshy part where neck and shoulder met. A strange urge to bite took him, but he ignored the notion and flicked out his tongue to taste the skin on her collarbone. Still sweet. Honey and spices.
Hurry. Oh, hell. He needed to plunge into her body. A shiver grabbed him, sped the length of his body. No. Stop. Guilt had him hauling his needs to a halt. Make it perfect. Kiss her breasts. Explore her body. Slow is better.
Sly sucked a pert nipple and gloried in the moan that escaped her. He liked it so much, he did it again. Cinnabar wriggled and parted her legs, driving him to distraction. Fast. Go. Go. Go.
But something in him—a gentlemanly part, the part that listened and took advice from his big brother… Huh. No! Don’t pull at the thought. Not now.
He plucked at Cinnabar’s nipple and sucked on the underside of her other breast. Her scent grew musky. Still with the honey and spice undertones, it drove him onward. Make her mine.
He moved down her body. Stroking. Caressing. Indulging his senses. “You are so pretty,” he whispered.
“Sly.” She infused the one word with so much emotion.
Sly understood without checking her expression. She wanted him as much as he craved her. He ran his fingers over the delicate flesh between her legs. Parted her folds. Stroked the silken dampness, drawing a shiver from her.
“Now,” she demanded. “Please.”
Yes. Sly guided his shaft to her entrance and pushed a fraction. His cock entered her warmth. Oh, yes. He took his time, invading and retreating, until they both shuddered at the exquisite friction. Exquisite. Hell. A girly word, yet his mind thought it and the description fit. He centered his busy mind. Focus, dammit.
Sly upped the speed of his thrusts, and Cinnabar clung. She pressed kisses to his neck and urged him onward. The pleasure grew while the blood pooled in his shaft. His balls tightened to a point shy of pain. He plunged into her again, and Cinnabar cried out, the quick spasms of her channel caressing his dick.
He allowed himself one lazy stroke, and another, before reaching a point of no return. Faster. Faster, he plunged into her until he exploded, his dick contracting with the force of his release, and his mind found a perfect slice of peace.
“Sly?”
Aware of his weight on her slighter body, he heaved himself off her. A weak kitten would have more energy. He winked at her. “You’ve done me in.”
“That was wonderful.”
Sly squeezed her a little. “Better than that. Exceptional.” That was nothing less than the truth. And he’d make sure they did it again as soon as he had the energy to move.
Sly rearranged their bodies and tugged Cinnabar against his side. He closed his eyes and drifted at peace for the first time in ages. Cute breathy whistles escaped Cinnabar, heating his shoulder. He’d tease her later. Joe would like her, and so would his other brothers. She’d fit with his family, and they’d treat her with respect, even if she did morph into an owl. Somehow, he’d make everything right. Somehow.
The door flew open without warning.
Sly’s arms tightened around Cinnabar. Every muscle in his body tensed and he opened his eyes as Liam skidded to a halt, gaze fixated on their twined bodies.