Endless Magic

I sat, with hands pressed against the window and eyes glued to the busy city. With so much to see, and no Titans chasing after me, I could finally take in the illustrious City of Lights and fall in love.



“Sebastian, it's beautiful,” I sighed wistfully.



“I'm glad you like it,” he murmured with amusement in his tone.



We arrived at his parent’s house an hour later, after fighting traffic and winding our way around half the city. Sebastian's parents, the Duke and Duchess of Canesburry, greeted us at the door of their enormous, lavish townhouse that overlooked the gardens of the Eiffel Tower. Princess Bianca pulled me into a surprise hug as soon as I climbed the stairs leading up to the ornate wrought iron doors. Taken back by her affection, I hugged her awkwardly in return.



After bestowing even greater affection on her son, she led us inside and I gasped at the parquet floors, and wall panels with pearl inlay. The entire town home was decorated in a mid-nineteenth century style that made the house feel lavishly beautiful and delicately fragile at the same time. I turned to Sebastian in utter awe of the “palace” but he just shrugged his shoulders as if I were overreacting.



“Your house is stunning,” I gasped when Bianca joined us in the foyer.



“Oh, you think so?” she asked casually in her clipped British accent. “I prefer the country estate personally, but I suppose there is a certain charm to the place.”



I nodded my head slowly, trying to cover my shock and watched Sebastian laugh at me from behind his mother's back.



“Eden, Bastion, you're here!” Amelia exclaimed excitedly flying down the staircase and sliding across the slick floor crashing into her brother who opened his arms to catch her and then swung her around in a loving hug.



“Let me see you,” Sebastian demanded, suddenly very stern. He set her down and then seemed to inspect her with a strict, scrutinizing stare. She fidgeted uncomfortably under his assessment, smoothing out her shoulder length brunette hair and fidgeting with the wrinkles in her cashmere tank top and silk shorts. “Hmmm....” he thought pensively, not looking at all happy, and then declared, “Mother! She is much too pretty. Much, much too pretty. I thought you were going to put an end to that.”



“Sebastian!” I gasped, refusing to let her ornery older brother torment Amelia. “You would rather her be ugly?” I glanced at Amelia sheepishly, afraid she might be mad at me. We hadn't seen each other since the night I broke into the London palace, where I not only told her I was planning on killing her beloved cousin, but her as well. I didn't end up following through on either case, but that didn't mean I wouldn't keep my word at a future date. Still, she was so sweet, so magnetically charming that I loved her despite myself. Just as I loved Sebastian, even though he stood starkly on the opposite side of this war. Besides all that, she was much too young to understand the necessity of murder, especially of all those that she loved dearly.



“I would rather her be ugly,” Sebastian declared. “Then, at least I wouldn't have to worry about all the boys chasing after her.”



“What boys?” Amelia mumbled and then turned her attention to me. “Are you angry with me, Eden?”



“Angry with you?” I shrieked, “What could I possibly be angry with you about! Are you mad at me?”



“Eden, I could never be made at you!” She exclaimed, her big golden brown eyes grew to the size of saucers and then she rushed over to me to throw her arms around my neck.



“Really?” Sebastian teased. “I could. I could easily be mad at Eden. In fact, I'm mad at her right now.”



“Me too, but I'm always mad at her,” Kiran echoed from the doorway. We all spun around to greet him, the Crown Prince, in all his glory. He stood in the doorway in white linen trousers and a light blue polo, the sun illuminating the space around him, making his hair glint like gold and his tanned skin contrasting starkly with the light colors of his clothes.



Amelia left my arms and flew to Kiran. He held her close, lifting her off the ground and treating her like a little sister. When he put her down, she stayed at his side, slipping her hand into his and pulling him toward Sebastian and I. Bianca had disappeared into the recesses of the house a while ago.



“Kiran, are you really mad at Eden?” Amelia asked innocently.



“Would it matter if I were?” he asked her, the good-nature evident in his voice, but his eyes serious and penetrating were on mine.



“Well, that depends,” Amelia explained sternly, educating us in the proper way to be angry with someone, “what are you mad at her for?”



“Loads of things,” Kiran confessed, but walked toward me with purpose, his smirk twisting the corners of his lips and his eyes twinkling with mischief. “For starters, she is my fiancé, yet I've been away from her for an entire week and she hasn't even bothered to kiss me yet!”



I jumped back, looking between Kiran and Sebastian frantically. I couldn't remember if we were supposed to pretend in front of the Cartiers and furthermore I didn't know if Amelia counted as an audience we had to pretend in front of. Plus, since Lucan wasn't even here to witness any of this display, I didn't feel like it was necessary, and the look on Kiran's face told me he was simply up to no good. I kept my magic carefully restrained, but I felt his searching for mine relentlessly.



“Well, I, um, I didn't want to embarrass you,” I found an excuse and went for it, but he was next to me, staring down at me with those damned turquoise eyes, asking me to comply.



“You won't embarrass me, Love,” he murmured, lifting his knuckles to my cheek and brushing it affectionately.



“Also,” I improvised quickly, “I don't just give away my kisses for no reason at all. You have to earn them.”



“Is that so?” Kiran laughed at me. “Anything, just tell me what to do.” His voice was suddenly rough with emotion and his eyes burned into mine, taking my soul in his gaze and demanding an answer.



I couldn't reply to him, I couldn't find my voice. I stood, lost in his gaze, trying to work out reality from pretend without much success.



“For starters, you could carry my bag to my room,” I whispered, unable to find more strength than that and desperately trying to remove myself from this awkward situation. Sebastian stood eyeing us with a mixture of suspicion and amusement and Amelia stood with her hands clasped together waiting for the fireworks that would explode in the background as soon as our lips touched.



“Excellent idea,” Kiran winked roguishly at me, and I realized then what my request might have sounded like. Tearing his eyes off me he turned to his cousin, “Bastion, where is Eden staying?”



“The blue room,” Sebastian answered.



Kiran picked up my bag that still waited next to the front door and began walking toward the staircase expecting me to follow. I smiled at Amelia, rolled my eyes at Sebastian and started after him, but Sebastian caught me by the arm to whisper in my ear.



“Don't start falling in love with him now, Eden, if you remember you told me yourself he doesn't love you anymore,” Sebastian reprimanded casually.



“Don't be ridiculous!” I laughed and slapped him on the arm before I joined Kiran on the carpeted staircase.



I followed Kiran up two flights of stairs and down a long, paneled hallway with carved ivory wall settings and matching floors. At the end of the hallway he opened a rosewood door that led into a guest suite beyond anything I ever dreamed of.



The blue room was an expansive suite decorated in every shade of blue imaginable. A four-poster bed sat raised on a carpeted dais complete with wrap-around pull curtain that would leave the bed in complete darkness if the curtains were closed. There was a large sitting room with overstuffed sapphire blue couches, a giant flat screen TV hung on the wall, and fully stocked bar on another. The bathroom door was just opened enough so I could see tiled floors extending far beyond the doorway and a magnificent ivory bathtub calling my name. Glassed French doors led out to a balcony that overlooked the Eiffel Tower and I abruptly, albeit sarcastically, forgot my cause and decided I could stay here forever.



“This is so much better than your room back at the Citadel,” I exclaimed jokingly, stepping inside and turning around slowly just in case I missed anything.



“May I remind you that my room at the Citadel has one very important thing that this room doesn’t?” Kiran leaned against the door-frame and looked at me seriously.



“What's that?” I asked, falling easily into his trap.



“Me,” he stated simply and then broke into a boyish grin that demanded to be reciprocated.



“Maybe, but you're never in that room either,” I reminded him and he flinched a little, not out of hurt but out of surprise. I wondered what I said that could cause him to react like that, but I didn't want to press it. I wanted him to leave so I could explore this glorious room by myself, and step out onto the balcony and watch Paris for the next eight hours, forgetting about the world I was thrown into and all of its problems.



All of my problems.



“Where would you like your bag?” Kiran cleared his throat and regained my attention.



“Just anywhere, thank you,” I replied, looking around the room and trying to memorize every intricate wall carving, every detailed Oriental rug or silk furniture covering.



Kiran set my bag down on a large foot stool near the bed and then stood awkwardly next to it like he was waiting for something. I started fidgeting nervously wondering what he could be waiting for.



“Where's Talbott?” I asked, realizing he hadn't even accompanied Kiran to the house.



“He's back at my flat, unpacking,” Kiran explained.



“Unpacking?” I blurted, surprised at the menial task Kiran left him with. “Wasn't he worried that you would be abducted on your way here, maybe assassinated on the front stoop, or possibly poisoned while ordering your coffee?” I demanded, intending to sound over-dramatic.



“No, he is absolutely not worried about any of those things!” Kiran laughed at me.



“Well, he should be, there are dangerous people out there,” I lectured and walked over to the floor-length windows that looked down on the busy street and bustling cafes.



“Yes, but no one I need to worry about,” he promised, with a funny catch of confidence in his voice.



I wanted to argue, to remind him that the Resistance still lived as strong as ever. I wanted to argue, but I didn't. In the end, I shouldn't give him a heads up. If he wanted to believe he was safe, who was I to destroy that utopia of naivety?



“Hmmm....” I turned back around; he was still there, still waiting for something. “Kiran, what are the rules when we're in Paris? I mean, as an engaged couple.... are there people here that need to be.... convinced?”



“Yes, I'm afraid so,” he sighed, and a light went out in his eyes. “I am not sure what my father has shared with my aunt, but the rest of the household is under the impression that you are my bride, not my prisoner and there are plenty of Immortals in Paris that could see us. I'm afraid the charade must go on.”



He stood up then and walked over to me in the middle of the room. I stiffened at the relaxed way he approached me, the possessive way his hand reached out for my arm to soothe it with a serene gentleness. Suddenly I was the trapped animal and he was the hunter circling his prey. I lost just a little bit of self-control and gulped in fear, afraid of what he was thinking and of what I was not thinking.