Crypts and Crimes (Trixie Towers Book 3) Page 3

  “I hate you to the bottom pits of Fairy,” he seethed.

  “We say the sweetest shit to each other,” I mumbled absently, pointing my fingers down at the desk, attempting to solve this puzzle. “The small pieces…they’re all part of a bigger piece.”

  King Athon actually shut the fuck up, allowing me to work in peace and quiet, holding my ankles solidly and staring down at the desk.

  I cocked my head and crossed my eyes. I almost started jumping with excitement, but his grip turned brutal on my legs. I exclaimed happily, “Oh! I see it! I see it!”

  “Shh,” King Athon hushed gently. “What do you see?”

  “I’ll tell you in a second.” I pointed at the shifter desk. “Walk over there. I want to see if yours has something on it, too.”

  The King of Shifters grumbled under his breath too quietly for me to hear, but he walked carefully to his desk, standing behind it.

  I kept my arms out for balance and repeated the process, crossing my eyes and slowly uncrossing them. And…there it was. I mused, “The Fae weren’t very creative. Same picture on this one, only in orange. Let us see if it’s on every desk.”

  King Athon walked us around the room, stopping at each desk, allowing me to view it from my higher perch, not complaining until I knocked his crown off his head as he lowered me to the ground—it wasn’t an accident.

  He started to grab it off the floor, but I snatched it first.

  King Athon’s nostrils flared, and his tiger fangs bared under the Fae light. “Hand over my crown.”

  “Be quiet. I’m trying to show you something.” I sauntered toward his desk, the bottoms of my father’s pajama bottoms dragging under my bare feet on the tiling—far too large on me. “Come and see.”

  He stalked directly behind me, breathing down on my head. “This had better be important.”

  “Yes. Yes. I know,” I mumbled. I stopped behind his desk and set his crown down on top of it, perfectly in the center. “Do you see it?”

  King Athon’s black eyebrows snapped together in confusion on his warm, russet hued face, his gaze hard on his desk. I held my snicker at bay when the light danced on his solid-black shifter eyes differently—as he crossed his eyes, trying to see what I had. He eventually shook his head, stating slowly, “I’m not sure if I’m seeing this right. It looks like our realm but different.”

  “Yes!” I nodded excitedly, and I pointed at various places. “It’s all in shades of orange, your kingdom’s color—each desk has its own kingdom’s shade—and inside the crown, it shows our realm.” My fingers drifted over the desk. “Each of our kingdoms. But, if you lift the crown…” I snatched his crown off the desk and slammed it against his chest, hardly noticing when he removed it delicately from my clutching fingers, my eyes avid on his desk. “If you remove the crown, the lines change within our kingdoms. They fracture with fissures from the outside in.”

  King Athon’s voice deepened, grave and severe. “Earthquakes.”

  “Maybe.” I crossed my arms over my chest and shivered from the chill, cold once more without his heat warming my body. “Your theory would only hold true if the fissures started from the inside out. These don’t. The artwork depicts them working in reverse. This isn’t about the giants waking—that is just one problem we have. This shows something else entirely.”

  The King of Shifters tipped his head back and gazed at the ceiling blindly, his brows drawn deeply together. His words were carefully put together as he gathered his thoughts, taking much time to think, and stating slowly, “Outside. Forces. Will try to destroy the realm. And its rulers.”

  I scratched at my forehead, studying the desk again, not liking his theory one bit. I whispered cautiously, lest a Fae hear my words in Fairy, “I think you are correct. The rulers must stay united in our quests. There is more afoot than what we know. Especially with the Fae searching for their own artifacts.”

  “We are agreed on that,” King Athon sneered. He rubbed his hands over his face in irritation, and then he shook his head as if he were trying to wake himself up. He tilted his head at the doorway. “You need to go back to bed and pretend you’re sleeping. I’ll wait five minutes before I start pounding on royal doors to show the other rulers what we—I—just discovered. Do you understand?”

  “Perfectly.” I yawned and stretched, knowing I wouldn’t get any sleep until Penelope arrived in a few hours. “You’ll put on a show for the rulers, boasting about your great intellect and their inferiority for not noticing this sooner. And I’ll try not to drop from exhaustion while you five posture like peacocks until they shut up, and you’re finally able to show them the details.” I flicked my right thumb up in approval. “Message received, shifter.”

  His slightly pointed chin quivered with barely restrained humor, but he griped, “Hurry up and get in bed so that I can start the pounding.”

  Both of us stopped in place, staring at one another.

  My blink was gradual. “You know, it’s late. I’m not even going to comment. That was far too easy, not challenging in the slightest.”

  “I do appreciate that. I’m not in my best form right now.” King Athon rubbed at his eyes. “And you really do need to slip back into King Traevon’s bedchamber. Do not wake him up, Princess.”

  I strolled past him and grabbed my traveling bag off the chair, slinging the strap over my shoulder. I lifted the bottom of my father’s pajama pants over my feet, keeping a good grip on the cloth so I didn’t trip as I walked toward the door. I didn’t turn around as I requested, “If you have any more of that dried jerky left, make sure to bring it out. I’m hungry again.”

  He grunted. “You are a pain in my ass.”

  “Most assuredly. But I’m also the one who figured this out. Think about that while you take credit for my work.” I chuckled at his resultant snarl—a tiger pissed off. Right as I exited the room, I chirped, “I hate you, too! Don’t forget the food.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Confession of a princess:

  A royal thrives on knowledge.

  The more I learn, the more I know how to win the battle. And there is much to know about the rulers I stand beside. I have only scratched the surface of their shells, but I am always studying them.

  You never know where they might crack. Then... Then you know where you can break them.

  I YAWNED LARGE enough that all my teeth showed as I trudged behind my king into the conference room, while a furious pounding jarred our ears in the distance. My attention snagged on the shifter desk, noting a pile of dried jerky there. I bit back a grin and marched straight toward the food, swerving between Queen Mikko and King Elon, not paying them any attention, my eyes homed in on the prize.

  “Where are you going?” Father spouted, muddled in his tired state. “Stay over here by me.”

  “Food.” I pointed, not stopping my progress. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms briskly, attempting to gather warmth into my chilled bones. “I’m starving.”

  King Traevon sighed his exasperation and followed swiftly in my wake, watching as I stole a large handful of nutrition off the shifter desk. He disciplined sleepily, “You should have asked first, my heir. I know you’re tired, but do not forget your manners.”

  I gnawed on a jerky, stating around the food, “I’m awake at this Fae awful time of day. Fuck manners right now, my king.”

  He blinked his emerald eyes slowly, his gaze caught on my mouth in horror. “At least be polite and chew with your mouth closed. That is absolutely ghastly.”

  I snorted and shut my mouth while I chewed.

  I could behave—for now.

  It wouldn’t be long before I misbehaved.

  A plan had already formed in my mind.

  King Elon sidled up next to me, eyeing the food in my clutched hand. He looked toward the shifter desk, the vertical, red slits of his reptilian, molten green eyes narrowing.

  He quickly snatched one for himself.

  A satisfied smile leisurely lifted his lips, his
pale blush of silver skin pinching around his mouth. He casually sauntered away in his pajamas, nipping at a jerky.

  I waggled my food at the gorgon king’s back, whispering, “See? Fuck manners.”

  King Traevon remarked under his breath, “Fae help us if your behavior is rubbing off on him.”

  Queen Mikko leaned her hip against her desk, murmuring dryly in her elegant tone, “I cannot believe Queen Alora is keeping us waiting. I wonder what excuse she will give this time since she’s already here? Perhaps a current of sleep swept her too far away.”

  The four of us paused, our heads cocking, listening.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang.

  “The better question is how long until King Athon forgoes all courtesy and breaks down her door?” Father’s mouth quirked up at one side, maliciously tickled at the thought. “I give it less than a minute.”

  King Elon hissed, “Surely he would not do—”

  Crack!

  My eyes shot open wide as the breaking of wood echoed, as if it were snapping over and over again. “Oh my Fae.”

  Queen Alora squealed with her high-pitched voice, “You barbaric air breather! What the Fairy do you think you’re doing? You can’t come in here like this! It’s against our rules!”

  Of course, we couldn’t hear King Athon’s response.

  I shoved a piece of jerky in my mouth while I considered the shifter king’s brazen conduct. “You know, my king, her voice almost sounds normal from this far away.”

  Father gurgled on a laugh, his emerald eyes glazing over with restrained hilarity. But lest I forget where I was—and who we were with—he lectured quietly, “She is of the ocean, my heir. Do not dismiss that.”

  I rolled my eyes at his words, but my regard halted on a piece of black clothing on the floor, tucked away in a corner. I strolled across the gleaming white tile and stopped to stare down at it. I used my free hand—not full of dried jerky—and lifted the lush, soft material off the floor. It was a large, knitted sweater that nearly felt like silk to the touch.

  I blinked and pivoted, showing the item to the rulers. “Your Royal Highnesses, does anyone know whose this is?”

  All three shook their heads, just as baffled as I was.

  I immediately smiled, my fangs flashing under the Fae light. “Mine now!”

  “My heir, you cannot just take—”

  “It’s freezing in here at night, and, yes, I can. Watch if you like. I’ll show you how it’s done,” I retorted, shutting him down, highly annoyed, having been up all evening working to save the realm while they slept. Eager to no longer be ice cold, I quickly shoved my head through the neck hole and wiggled my arms—jerky included—through the armholes. I lifted my arms out to my sides, the ends of the sleeves drooping and hanging low from my raised hands, while the hem of the sweater tumbled down to my knees, covering a goodly portion of my father’s too large pajama bottoms. I intoned my words plainly. “See, my king? That is how it’s done.”

  Father ran his fingers through his red hair. “Holy Fae above and below, I can’t scold her when she…” He trailed off, shaking his head with frustrated adoration shining from his eyes.

  Queen Mikko snickered behind her right hand, suitably demure. “Even I can admit the elf looks adorable.”

  I narrowed my eyes and dropped my arms to my sides.

  This was not the response I’d thought I’d receive.

  King Elon squinted at my person. “Are you positive she has reached her majority, King Traevon? She looks very…small.”

  “It’s the sweater,” Queen Mikko reassured, gesturing to and fro on my body with a raised hand. “It must be King Athon’s.”

  My eyebrows furrowed, and I dipped my head down to my right shoulder, sniffing at the warm clothing. There was the very slightest hint of honeysuckle clinging to the fibers, only noticeable if you stuffed your face into the material like I was currently doing.

  I wrinkled my nose in distaste and raised my head. “Ugh. Mayhap I will take it off.”

  “He left it for anyone to steal, Princess Trixie. Do as you wish.” King Elon shrugged his broad shoulders and flipped his shamrock green, long braids off his forehead, his golden crown glimmering in the light. “All’s fair in a den of snakes.”

  My gaze landed on his braids that would turn into serpents. Did I see one twitch? I mumbled absently, “There is truth in that, Your Royal Highness.”

  I tore off a piece of jerky with a fang, gnashing it between my teeth. I lurched away from staring at his braids, and quickly made my way across the room. I planned to stay in the background as much as possible while—

  A large form slammed into the back of my left shoulder.

  “Ow!” I protested, jolting forward, nearly falling.

  King Athon glanced back from his march into the room, barking, “Don’t stand in the middle of the doorway, elf.”

  I fumed with resentment and flashed my fangs.

  Why was this asshole my soul mate? I would love the response to that. But only the Fae could answer my question, and they could stay far, far away from here.

  The King of Shifters bared his tiger fangs in return.

  I. Couldn’t. Stand. Him.

  But…

  I snapped my mouth shut and flicked my gaze down to the sweater that I wore. I rolled up the sleeves while I ate my dried jerky—reluctantly remaining silent with my deep thoughts. His earlier words in the bathroom had been correct. I wasn’t that daft.

  He had left this sweater for me.

  And he’d fed me.

  Perhaps I wouldn’t misbehave as I had intended. It would have been so easy, though, to point out the one thing I had withheld from him, to steal his limelight, and show that elves were far superior—even if the information I withheld only solidified what we had already discussed.

  But I would behave since he had…taken care of me…in his bizarre shifter way. If we were to coexist together as unlawful soul mates, I needed to keep learning about his people and how his brutal mind worked.

  So I stepped aside, away from the doorway, and stayed quiet when Queen Alora finally deigned to enter the royal conference room, her multi-hued ponytail swishing back and forth from her aggravated gait. The merfolk queen looked ready to slash out at anyone, her nostrils flared in fury and her fists clenched, barely restraining herself when she stopped next to the other rulers.

  Only when the discussion began did I breathe easily in the brutal wake of her entrance—her innocent seahorse pajamas, be Fae damned.

  I watched.

  I observed how King Athon dominated their attention.

  I studied when he allowed others to speak. And, yes, he allowed them to talk by quieting himself and genuinely listening to what they said. He controlled the beast inside himself with hardened grit, thinking clearly with a sharp and cunning mind—only King Traevon’s skills evenly matched his during their dialogue.

  My brows rose on my forehead when it became evident that King Athon was the ultimate predator—and enemy. I shuddered inside his sweater and ate the last piece of my dried jerky. It was extremely fortunate that Father was still alive. I would not be able to stand toe to toe politically with the King of Shifters.

  I was not at that level yet in my life.

  Yes, I must continue to learn. I would be the best queen to my people that I could be. I would do right by them, and that meant I needed to be able to handle King Athon inside this powerful room. Knowledge was the key to my people’s wellbeing.

  The room silenced when the shifter king finished speaking, the rulers having finally gotten to the point of why they were rudely roused from their slumber.

  “Essentially, what you are saying is that we have not only the giants awakening to worry about but also another problem lurking in the shadows,” Queen Mikko deduced correctly in her soft voice. The brown mist of her eyes swirled in menacing circles, and her gaze narrowed in calculation. Her tone held no fear as she stated clearly, “It is the Fae. I think we all kno
w this by now.”

  Hmm. The caster queen was brave.

  “From all that we know so far, I would agree with you.” King Athon lifted one black eyebrow. “There is something else, too.”

  My pointed ears perked up. I pushed off against the glass wall, coming to attention. He hadn’t mentioned anything else to me.

  He paced in front of us, left to right, his solid-black eyes holding mine for a moment too long—perceptive eyes. He stopped in the very center of the room, right in the middle of the circle of desks.

  He pointed a single finger up at the ceiling, explaining gruffly, “It’s all about the castle in the middle.”

  Motherfucker. He had figured it out, too.

  While the other four rulers tilted their heads back to examine the ceiling, their whole focus upward, the King of Shifters flicked his gaze in my direction. He smirked in cruel delight at my aggravated glower, and ticked his lifted, pointed finger back and forth in the air, a silent reprimand for trying to hide something from him.

  I was caught—Fae damned arrogant shifter.

  He lowered his hand and turned his regard back to the rulers, his haughty expression erased. “As you can see, the stained glass takes the shape of the castle.”

  Queen Alora griped in her high tone, “I do not see it.”

  “Cross your eyes,” King Athon instructed at the same time that I mouthed, “Cross your eyes.”

  Father scratched at his chin, tilting his head while he regarded the ceiling. “That is fascinating. The color shining out from the windows is blue.”

  No kingdom’s color in this realm was blue.

  Red, orange, yellow, green, and purple.

  But no blue.

  “What do you suppose that means?” King Elon hissed, his voice rolling over my flesh like snakes slithering. I cringed as he continued, “All of our kingdoms’ colors make up the outside of the castle.”

  King Traevon lowered his gaze from the ceiling. “What do you think it signifies, King Athon?”