Royal Court, Seelie
“Where the devil is Cinnabar?” Princess Iseabal stomped from her tower chamber, down the winding stone stairs, along the long passage, past the chambers of the ladies-in-waiting to the last one—Cinnabar’s. She flung open the wooden door without knocking and wrinkled her nose as she scanned the narrow bed, the clothes hooks on the wall bearing two shabby brown gowns. A sneeze erupted, and she stepped back. Gah! Nothing but dust in this cupboard.
No one had bothered to clean or gather Cinnabar’s possessions after she’d supposedly run off with the group of players. How had Cinnabar withstood the lack of space? No matter. She had plenty now. Too much freedom, since she is missing.
Iseabal stamped her right foot and stormed toward the Great Hall. Cinnabar should’ve returned from her assignment by now. She’d attempted mind-speak but it never worked with Cinnabar. As soon as she broke her fast, she’d go in search of the traitorous woman, and if she didn’t have a satisfactory excuse, she’d strip her of her feathers. See how she enjoyed nakedness.
Chatter, both male and female, spilled from the Great Hall, along with the scents of grilled slices of meat and fried lark’s egg. Her stomach rumbled as she dodged a wriggling pet-pup begging for a scratch behind the ears. She ignored the gray canine and his wagging tail, checked the tables on the dais, and hurried to take possession of an empty chair with her ladies-in-waiting. Katrina, her sister, sat beside their brother Liam. She had no idea where Calum, Katrina’s husband, was but he never left her sister alone for long.
“Good morn,” the ladies-in-waiting chorused, chairs scraping over the wooden floor of the dais as they rose to curtsy.
A servant girl, carrying a tray of dirty platters, tripped over Lord Sutharlainn’s outstretched leg. Platters flew in all directions. One smashed on the flagstone floor below the dais. Another thumped Lord Sutharlainn’s chest, splattering runny egg yolk over his maroon jacket.
“Stupid girl.” Lord Sutharlainn flicked his wrist, and Iseabal felt the tug on the ley power as the plates flew back to the tray.
“Thank you, sir.” The girl scuttled away with her tray, but not before Iseabal noticed the worms wriggling over the plates. The maid hadn’t noticed them yet.
A shriek and a crash came from the passage outside.
Ah, she did now.
Lord Sutharlainn performed more magic to right his appearance, tugging from the ley lines running beneath the kingdom to power his chant. Iseabal sniffed, but hid her contempt. Fool. When one used their magic, they depleted their magical strength and only time righted the problem. She saved her magical talents for the right occasion.
She also practiced each day in the privacy of her tower. Not so, most Seelie residents. They grew complacent. She wrinkled her nose.
Their loss. Her gain.
The delicious honey-nectar fruit and lark’s egg pie sweetened her mood. Replete, she pushed away from the table and stood. Plates clattered and cutlery clunked as her ladies-in-waiting scrambled to stand as a show of respect. Iseabal wanted to laugh at the skinny Mirabel, who’d dropped her knife on her gown. The chubby Andry had spilled her fruit, and a bright green-and-yellow stain smeared the full skirts of her robe. They were a gormless lot, with their disheveled dress and careless manners. At least Cinnabar obeyed her orders, even while dressed in feathers.
Most orders, since she was currently missing.
Iseabal tittered. She couldn’t wait to feed Cinnabar her next meal. She’d acquired two mouselets. Cinnabar had to eat to survive but her wide-eyed blinking whenever she was presented with her squirming dinner never failed to boost Iseabal’s mood. Such fun. Such entertainment.
Now, where the devil was the owl?
When her ladies-in-waiting would’ve followed, she waved them away, preferring to search for Cinnabar alone. No one needed to know her pet owl was, in fact, her former junior lady-in-waiting. That was her amusing secret, and one she intended to keep for as long as Cinnabar continued to entertain her.
Iseabal wandered to her usual haunts before the truth struck. She clapped her hand across her mouth to contain her chortle, not wishing to attract the attention of the maid cleaning in the family solar. Once the maid had bustled away, duster and polishing cloth in hand, Iseabal dropped her hand to her side. “Oops.” She’d forgotten about the portal, which would be locked to Cinnabar.
Now certain of Cinnabar’s location, she headed for the secret portal, which allowed an exit from Seelie. She placed her hand on the shimmering surface and a door opened.
Ah! There she was perched in a tree.
Iseabal stepped forth, full of enthusiasm, before another obstacle occurred to her.
Cinnabar had no communication skills in this form. The spell was designed that way, so no one else discovered Iseabal’s secret. Cinnabar couldn’t tell anyone the truth during her time in normal form, either. A backlash spell. It should work well enough, if necessary, although Iseabal hadn’t tested it. There was no need when Cinnabar was terrified of what might happen next. Yes, an amusing twist to protect Iseabal’s secret, since she knew Liam would never approve.
But for once, the lack of a voice presented a problem.
What to do?
“Cinnabar, to me,” Iseabal ordered.
Cinnabar blinked her rounded blue eyes once and soared from the shelter of the tree to a rock to Iseabal’s right. Impatience pummeled Iseabal, and she fisted her hands until a solution presented itself. Questions. She’d ask Cinnabar questions with yes or no answers.
“Did you find the man? The twin. Flap your wings if you did.”
Cinnabar hesitated.
“I don’t have all cycle,” Iseabal snapped. “Flap your wings for yes. Blink twice for no.”
Slowly, as if she had an inexhaustible amount of time at her fingertips, Cinnabar ruffled her feathers and spread her wings in a flap.
“You did! You found him. I knew you wouldn’t fail me. Do you know where to find him again?”
Cinnabar flapped her wings.
“Will it be easy to get him to come here?”
Cinnabar blinked.
“Hmm.” Iseabal tapped her chin with her forefinger. “I’ll need to go to him to persuade him.”
Cinnabar flapped her wings.
“Is he handsome up close? Is he worthy of me?”
Cinnabar didn’t react straightaway this time, and Iseabal frowned.
“Cinnabar. Is he worthy?”
Cinnabar flapped her wings.
“Handsome?”
Another flap.
Iseabal clapped her hands together. “Perfect.” She needed a plan and the answers to more questions. “Cinnabar, return through the portal to Seelie and this eve, when you revert to your true form, I want you to write me a note. Tell me everything you know and give me suggestions of the best way to approach this man.”
Once the owl followed her orders, Iseabal skipped back to the entrance to Seelie. Perfect. She’d gain a handsome husband and become more important than her sister again. More important than her father and brother, if things went to plan. Iseabal hummed happily, now that her scheme was coming together.
Of course, she couldn’t marry without her father’s permission, but she’d take this man to Seelie. Her father would soon understand the benefits of the marriage, while she’d have no problem controlling the man.
Confidence had her nodding and warbling a few notes of her favorite song.
Best plan ever.
* * * * *
Middlemarch Resort, Ione Island, a few cycles later
Princess Iseabal trailed the shirtless man—an employee—down a narrow path that wound between gardens full of blue-and-white flowers and trees with pink-and-black trunks and equally bright fern-like leaves. Her gaze lingered on the man’s back muscles, glistening from the heat, and the fascinating pattern in black, which seemed etched into his skin. It also crawled up his right arm. A disease of some type? Nothing about the man suggested an ailing specimen.
Armed with the information from Cinnabar, Iseabal had told her father she intended to spend a few days with Lady Jessika, her friend who lived near the main entrance to Seelie. He’d accepted her words without suspicion, and Iseabal practically vibrated with excitement.
She couldn’t wait to meet Sly Mitchell. Sly Mitchell. His name tingled her vocal cords as she whispered it aloud.
The man walking in front of her halted and turned to face her. “Did you say something? Did you have a question for me?”
Iseabal—plain Iseabal this trip—smiled even as she appreciated the perfection of the man’s bulging muscles. A depiction of a snarling black cat decorated his left pectoral muscle.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was talking to myself. There is so much to occupy my time at the resort.”
The man took her words at face value, returning her benevolent humor and nodding. Several other men wandered past, some with women and others in groups. So many striking men, all way more attractive than those in her circle. Cinnabar had assured her Sly Mitchell was a worthy specimen. Iseabal agreed, since she’d already observed his musculature, albeit from afar.
When the path widened, Iseabal eschewed protocol and hastened her steps so she walked alongside the man. “What would you suggest I do first?”
“Go to either the swimming pool or the resort beach. Order a drink from one of the waiters. Soak up rays from the sun and relax. Get into the holiday mood. Tonight, make sure you attend the welcome mixer. Dance and enjoy yourself and meet others. Then, on the next day…ah, cycle, have a relaxing massage, spend time in one of the holo rooms with the sex-bots. Have fun.” He flashed an impish and knowing grin, closing one thickly lashed green eye in an exaggerated blink.
Iseabal’s pulse did a cha-cha-cha, and she resisted fanning the heat from her face. “Anything else?”
“Whatever you do, don’t miss the ball. Wear your sexiest outfit and arrive prepared for excitement and entertainment. Anything is possible after the ball.”
“Anything?”
“Yes, anything. This is your room. You’ve packed lightly,” he added. “You did bring a special dress to wear to the ball?”
“I did.” Her magic would aid her in that regard. Success in the first part of her plan was worth a slight depletion of power.
The man showed her through her bungalow and left her alone. Iseabal decided to wait for Cinnabar before she left her room to explore. Meantime, she’d adjust her apparel to match with that of the others. With little more than a thought, her flowing gown dissolved, and she wore the clothes that Cinnabar had described to her in one of her many notes.
The owl made an excellent spy, noting intricate details that wouldn’t have occurred to Iseabal. She frowned at the scraps of cloth covering her breasts and reached down to tug on the matching cloth that covered her buttocks. She’d gone with bright red, since it contrasted with her long black hair and golden skin. She tugged on the stuff again, but the second she released the fabric it returned to a place slightly higher on her buttocks. Oh well. She intended to sit and observe and try one of the special drinks the man had described.
A shrill cry indicated Cinnabar’s arrival. Iseabal hurried to let her into her bungalow. She shut the door after Cinnabar flew inside. Once the owl was perched on a chairback, Iseabal considered the information she required. How should she frame her questions to gain the necessary knowledge?
“Is Sly Mitchell present?”
Cinnabar flapped her wings.
“Will I find him at the pool?”
Cinnabar blinked twice.
“That’s annoying. How will I find him?”
Cinnabar didn’t move a feather.
“Can you take me to him?”
Cinnabar blinked.
“Why not?” Iseabal demanded. “Wait.” She held up a hand to enforce her order. “Will I see him tonight?”
Cinnabar flapped her wings.
Ah. Perhaps he was outside the resort area, as he’d been when she’d first spotted him. It didn’t matter, not if Cinnabar said he’d be present this eve. She’d make her move then implement her plan into action. No, she’d told her father she would stay with her friend for two cycles. She’d learn more of the resort and enjoy herself meanwhile.
“Go and watch him,” Iseabal ordered. “Stay near him and only return to me if something changes.”
* * * * *
“Can you sense someone watching us?” Sly asked Joe.
They were preparing the ground for another crop, on a slice of land to the left of their vines. Already, they’d germinated some of their precious seed supply and the plants were thriving in their private hothouse. Now it was time to transfer them outdoors.
With uneasiness simmering through his belly, Sly scanned their surroundings. “That owl is here again.”
“Where?” Joe asked.
Sly pointed out the russet-colored bird. The owl stood upright, talons gripping the branch of a tree, peering at them intently. Big blue eyes dominated it’s large, broad head. They were the same shade of blue as Cinnabar’s eyes.
His Cinderella.
Despite his searches and inquiries, she’d vanished without a trace, without a hint of a shoe to help him discover her whereabouts. His feline gave a breathy sigh of regret, one that Sly echoed.
“You’re thinking about Cinderella again,” Joe accused.
Sly shrugged, not willing to admit—even to his twin—how much he missed Cinnabar, how much he craved her presence. “Anyone catch your attention from the latest arrivals?”
“No,” Joe said. “I never thought I’d say this but even the easy sex gets old after a while. I want a woman with intelligent conversation, one I can be grumpy with if something is wrong and she’ll forgive me because she likes me rather than my body.”
“I know what you mean. They tend to take one glance and get a greedy expression in their eyes. It makes me want to run. You spent time with a woman last month.”
“I liked her,” Joe said. “The sex was okay, but I didn’t like her enough to offer more.”
Sly noted the sun and its position in the sky. “We’d better hustle. Saber will be pissed if we arrive late to the welcome mixer.”
An hour later, he and Joe approached the noisy function room. Background music played while topless male waiters dispersed fruity cocktails.
“Just great,” Joe muttered. “A bunch of boozers. We’ll be black and blue tomorrow. Luckily, we heal fast.”
While Sly shared Joe’s opinion, he didn’t comment. No point, since nothing he did would change their reality, not until either he or Joe thought of another way to raise funds to finance their farming operation. He snorted. Things hadn’t changed much from life on Earth in that respect.
Joe clasped his shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze of encouragement. “Catch you on the other side. Want to go for a night run afterward? A zylon hunt? Saber mentioned a hunt since the population is rising again.”
The fluffy creatures appeared cute and cuddly until they bit—something in their saliva reacting badly with those in humanoid form. For some reason, a zylon bite didn’t kill felines, and they presented a sociable sport and an excellent way to wind down after an evening playing affable host with the resort guests.
“Count me in,” Sly said. “Leo and Betrys might like to join us. Ma will keep an eye on the kid.” Ma loved babysitting Ricci, and was always side-eying her three oldest sons, willing them to add to her current count of one grandchild.
“I’ll check with Scarlett, too, if I can find her. She’s making herself scarce these days. She refused to tell me what she was doing when I discovered her on the other side of our vineyard.”
Sly pulled a face. “She was collecting rocks to make jewelry. She called them precious stones but they resemble common rocks.”
Later, as he entered the function room, he noticed the owl again. It huddled on the windowsill, feathers ruffled, and it blinked twice, appearing sad and dejected.
Inside, Sly collected a glass of water from the bar. The main function room was a glorified hall, in truth, but Ma and her helpers transformed it for each event until the space resembled a magical cavern full of flowers and colored lights. After a deep, fortifying breath, he started circulating. Although he disliked making nice with the grabby women, at least their currency had improved the lives of his family, their friends and relations.
“Hello,” a black-haired woman said. With her golden skin and slim figure, she’d turn heads, yet Sly felt nothing. She took his hand and laced their fingers together and smiled. “I saw you from across the room and had to say hello. I’m Iseabal. I’m so pleased to meet you.”
“Iseabal.” Sly inclined his head and fought the urge to rip his hand from her touch. “How are you enjoying your holiday at Middlemarch Resort?”
“It’s wonderful.” She beamed at him. “I’ve never visited a place like this before. So many interesting people and new ways.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying your visit,” Sly said, maintaining a polite manner that would make his mother and oldest brother proud. Gently, he regained ownership of his hand. “Let me introduce you to a few of our other employees.” He led her over to a group of his cousins, hoping one of them would take her off his hands. Something about this woman clanged his warning signals, yet he didn’t know why. “This is Iseabal,” he said. “My cousins Saul, Lucas, Duncan, and Ross.”
As Sly had hoped, his cousins found the woman enticing and drew her into conversation. Her sweet laughter followed him as he left the group and searched for someone less pushy. He scanned the clusters of women, hunting for red hair. Cinnabar. The mysterious woman had captured him mind and spirit. He…he yearned for her. Not that he’d mention this to any of his brothers. They’d laugh.
His gaze fell on a group of blue-skinned women, then he intercepted Saber’s glower and got the message. Get busy with the social thing.
The joyfulness of the guests eluded him, but he forced a polite smile. “Hello.”
“Good eve,” a petite blue-skinned woman said in a surprisingly deep voice. She had short blue horns protruding from her temples. “This is a beautiful resort.”
Sly eyed the woman warily, gradually relaxing when he realized she didn’t intend to attack his person. It was early in the evening though. “Where are you from?”
Saber and Ma had drilled them in polite conversation, and now the words flowed without a second thought.
“I live on the Tiraq mainland,” she said.
“Are you here alone?”
“No, my friends are here with me. Five of us. We wanted to visit the resort before Mica mates with a chief from our neighboring planet, Dalcon.”
Sly’s ears pricked. Not about the upcoming nuptials, but the fact she lived on Tiraq’s main land mass. “My brother and I enjoy working the land. We wish to purchase coos. Someone told me the Scothage people breed coos.”
“Barbarians,” the woman spat.
“Oh?”
“They live in the Highlands in drafty castles and the clans are always feuding. One steals coos from his neighbor, and the neighbor’s neighbor steals them and so on, until the coos are back where they started.”
Sly grinned at her obvious distaste. “I’m Sly Mitchell.”
“Juanite Farstenan,” she replied.
“What else can you tell me about the Scothage race? Do they sell their coos to outsiders?” The horns were kinda cute. He hadn’t seen a guest with horns before.
“It’s possible. One of my friends may know more than me.” She craned her neck and let out a huff of impatience. “I hate having no height. Can you see my entourage?”
Sly scanned the function room and spotted Joe. “Juanite, come and meet my brother. We can search for your friends at the same time.” He offered his arm as Ma and Saber had instructed. “On Earth, this is a polite gesture,” he explained. “It means I wish to escort you safely across the room to discover your friends.”
“I can protect myself.” But she placed her hand on his arm and he maneuvered through the crowded room to where Joe stood with a Tigrus woman. His brother was edging away, a smile frozen on his desperate face.
“Juanite, this is Joe,” Sly said when he reached his twin.
Both Juanite and the Tigrus woman scrutinized one twin and then the other.
“We’re twins,” Sly said, stating the obvious.
“Pretty,” the Tigrus woman purred. “I want both.”
“No,” Sly said.
“No,” Joe echoed.
“I will persuade you.” The Tigrus woman cocked her head, her purr rumbling in her well-endowed chest.
“Friends only,” Sly said before the Tigrus woman could pounce. He noticed Joe had edged away, leaving him closest and in pouncing range.
“Stand down,” Juanite ordered.
The Tigrus woman bristled, her striped hair lifting and puffing out and upward in agitation. Her feline eyes narrowed to slits, and Sly was certain her tail was twitching from side to side.
“How about a drink on the house?” Joe said hurriedly.
“What would you like?” Sly asked.
Neither of the women paid them the slightest bit of attention, their gazes locked and loaded with challenge.
Without warning, Juanite opened her maw. Her tongue shot out and slapped the Tigrus woman on the face. The force of the blow sent the Tigrus woman flying.
Sly hurried to help her up. Holy hell. That had been…unexpected. Horns and a weird tongue.
Saber arrived, shot him and Joe a stern glance as if they were at fault, and escorted the weeping Tigrus woman away for a consolation drink.
Five petite blue women, all with horns, appeared and fanned out behind Juanite in a silent show of solidarity.
“Problem?” one barked.
Juanite waved a hand in dismissal. “No. No. Taken care of.”
“You should have called, Princess,” one of the blue ladies chided.
“I am capable of handling an unruly Tigrus,” Juanite said with disdain.
“Princess?” Sly asked. “Most of our royal guests have their security teams with them.”
Juanite sniffed. “Where is the fun in that? We were searching for you,” she told her group.
The five blue women gaped, navy-blue brows arching in unison. Sly worried about tongue action and took a half step back.
“Why didn’t you mind-call?” one asked finally.
“I enjoy the slow way of searching.” She tucked her arm in Sly’s. “I like Sly’s company. He hasn’t tried to spank me or to strong-arm me to mate with him.”
“I-I…” Sly paused and tried again. “I don’t wish to mate with a woman. All I require is friendship.” Apart from his mystery woman.
The five blue women gaped again, giving Sly another glimpse of their bluish tongues. They appeared innocent enough, despite the whopping Juanite had meted out to the Tigrus woman.
Juanite beamed. “I told you this was the perfect place for us to visit. We get a rest from pushy suitors and a chance to rejuvenate and enjoy spirited conversations. Sly and I were discussing coos.”
“Coos?” one asked.
A second blue lady wrinkled her nose. “Nasty creatures. Big horns. Shaggy coats. They do taste exceptional though.”
“Do you know where we can buy coos?” Joe asked.
“Yes,” Sly said. “We understand we’d have to negotiate with one of the Scothage clans.”
“Dangerous people.”
“Barbarians.”
“But do you think they will sell us coos?” Sly asked. “Even a few would be a start.”
“We could make inquiries for you when we reach our home,” Juanite offered. “You’re welcome to visit and stay at our chateau while you transact your business.”
“Thank you,” Joe said.
Sly nodded. “Yes, thank you. We need to save our currency first. But if we learned more, the cost and how many the Scothage would sell us to start that would be a help.”
“We can do that for you. Give us your com direction and we will secure the information you need. Now, what would you suggest we do tomorrow? We are not interested in captures. We can do that at home,” Juanite said.
“The beach is lovely. Ask the kitchen to organize a picnic for you and spend time at the beach. Visit the shops. All the ladies seem to enjoy the clothes and shoes on sale,” Sly suggested.
“Shoes?” Juanite asked. “I adore shoes. Do they have ones to make me taller?”
“My brother’s mate designs clothes and her aunt makes shoes. If you have something special in mind, speak to Casey. My sister raves about her clothes,” Sly replied.
“Any other suggestions?” one of the blue ladies asked.
“Don’t miss the food at the ball. You’ll get to try delicious Earth dishes. Or go for a tour of the village and grounds. I do those,” Joe said.
Juanite clapped her hands together. “I sensed this was a delightful place to visit.”
Sly exchanged an amused glance with his twin. He was learning. Introduce the topic of clothes, shoes or food, and most of the guests grew excited and happy. Joe shared a grin of satisfaction with him. They had a solid lead for their cattle. Progress at last.
In his peripheral vision, he caught a blur. Wary of over-exuberant women, he half-turned.
A cloud of golden dust engulfed him in a swirling wave and a blinding flash of yellow light.
Sly gasped, the shimmering particles filling his nostrils, his throat. He sneezed, peered around blearily, yet he saw nothing except eddies of gold and yellow. Every muscle in his body tensed.
Something walloped him in the chest.
The force of the blow shoved him backward. He tried to countermove and regain his balance. His limbs refused to obey.
A wrenching pain jerked his torso. His skin prickled. He wheezed, struggling to inhale. Not enough air. Not enough air.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe, dammit.
His mind grew fuzzy. He glimpsed faces for a brief second. Joe’s. Juanite’s.
Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
He was frozen.
Sly’s knees crumpled.
He felt himself falling, falling, falling.
His surroundings faded, growing darker, until they reached a suffocating, endless black.
He struck the ground. Groaned, unsure which way was up or down.
Everything was black and full of nothingness.
Empty.
Was this death?
His throat tight, chest constricted, he finally, finally dragged in a breath. It made a sucking sound. He turned, did two slow blinks.
Why hadn’t anyone told him death had blue eyes?