Scales and Skeletons (Trixie Towers Book 2) Page 3

  Caspian responded thoughtfully, “Or it’s the simple fact that it’s against their own law to step into our realm, and they didn’t want to make their presence known.”

  Father grunted in agreement. “When they attacked you, did you…”

  Caspian’s tone turned dry as sand. “Do you really want to know the answer to that, my king?”

  “Yes. I need to know if I’ll have one of those traveling Fae knocking on my door, demanding your head for not dying when they wanted you to.”

  “All five were taken care of,” Caspian answered evenly.

  “I’m not sure if that is better or worse.” Father snorted under his breath. “Is it true their eyes sink into their heads when they die? I read that somewhere once.”

  I rolled my own eyes. Leave it to Father to ask that.

  “I couldn’t tell you. I was too busy dodging their claws that appeared out of nowhere. Those were white and sharp as blades.”

  It sounded like Father whacked my cousin on the back. “Despite the storm this may cause me, I am happy you kicked their asses and are alive to tell me about it.”

  Caspian chuckled softly. “As am I.”

  With much humor in his voice, Father mumbled, “Do you want to invite her in now or shall I?”

  My red brows instantly puckered.

  “I’ll do it.” Caspian’s head popped outside the entrance, a smirk gracing his lips as he stared into my shocked, wide eyes. “Get your ass in here, Trix. And since you still can’t eavesdrop worth a Fae shit, you get to spar with our king first.”

  My mouth bobbed for a heartbeat. I sputtered, “H-How did you know this time?”

  Caspian pointed down at my black skirt. “It was showing past the door.”

  Father called from inside the sparring room, “Actually, my nosey daughter, you first kicked a stone on the stairwell. It hit the wall and bounced down.”

  Caspian added, “Then you shuffled your feet on the landing.”

  “After that, she hit the side of the entrance too hard,” Father remarked.

  “Lastly, came the skirt issue.” Caspian pointed at my clothes again.

  My cheeks were as red as my hair now. Embarrassing.

  “All right. So my stealth could use a little work.” And I thought I had done so well, too. “But I can still steal better than you, my friend. You are absolutely pitiful at that.”

  “That is very true.” Caspian snaked his left arm around the entrance and grasped my left wrist, yanking me inside the private room. With a none-too-gentle smack on my ass, he shoved me toward our king. “Sparring time, Trix. Go grab a weapon.”

  I rubbed my butt and glowered over my shoulder. “Ow.”

  Caspian snickered and shrugged, the rotten jerk.

  Father already had a long sword in his hand, swinging it easily, loosening his muscles. “Was there a reason you followed us down here, other than to eavesdrop?”

  I veered to the weapons hanging on the wall. I lifted a double-headed spear from its resting place and turned to face my king. I used both hands, rotating it around my body with fluid grace.

  On to my actual plan…

  I answered, “Yes, I wanted to know if Mother was feeling better.”

  “Minnie is feeling like herself today.” Father beckoned me closer with his sword. “She’s in full preparation mode for our anniversary and is working through the delicate details with your uncle as we speak.”

  I stepped up to face off with my king, holding my spear up high with the blades aimed at his head. “Do you have any plans tomorrow? I’d like to go to that waterfall we used to visit. The one that Queen Mikko mentioned—the one from Mother’s painting. We haven’t been there for a while.” I asked for something I knew he couldn’t possibly manage having been gone for a few days.

  Father attacked first, slicing sideways at my stomach.

  I pivoted and swung the spear around—almost landing a blow to his back—but he twisted too fast away from me.

  “Perhaps, next week, we can work that into the schedule when I’m less busy, and your mother’s agenda clears up.” A typical king response coming out of my father’s mouth. He moved in to strike again, but I beat him to it, making him quickly change to a defensive maneuver. His cheeks pinched as he laughed at my antics, conceding, “Or Caspian could go with you tomorrow if that’s what you really wish.”

  I twirled away, winking at Caspian as I did so.

  My cousin’s voice was droll. “I’ll take her. We’ll make a day of it.” And just like that, my alibi was set, as I knew he’d do for me.

  I smirked at my father and held the spear high once more. “Is that all you’ve got, King Traevon?”

  “Not in the slightest, my heir.”

  Father charged with his wicked sword, slicing down through the air, done warming up. I met him blow for blow, sweet adrenaline flooding my veins. This right here was pure bliss with my king.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Confession of a princess:

  The Shifter Kingdom is even more heinous than I’d thought it to be. It is most peculiar, really. It is a lawless land…but with law? I’ve never felt so off-center before. You truly must have to grow up a shifter to understand their ways, their brutality. I am trying, but it is difficult.

  There is one fact I do know. Elves certainly do not belong here.

  PENELOPE’S BLOOD-RED HOOVES touched down in the Shifter Kingdom under the cloak of darkness deep in the forest beneath the shifter’s capital, Mount Hawthorne. The massive city loomed far above, built into the rock of the mountain, hundreds and hundreds of lights dotting the shifter city. Penelope shimmied to the side, and I hushed her softly and patted her neck, rubbing gently to calm her nerves—not that mine were any better.

  I unstrapped my waist and legs from the flying saddle and jumped down. I swiftly pulled out my merchant attire, draping it over my Fae-gift’s black-furred back. With an alert gaze, I promptly stripped down and changed my clothing, stuffing my regal clothing back into my bag. I shook out the flowing, blue ankle-length skirt and thin, white top, the items slightly wrinkled. The sandal straps that created a delicate pattern up to my knees weren’t comfortable, but they looked the part.

  “Penelope, you need to fly back to the Elf Kingdom now. Go back home, and, tomorrow, fly to the waterfall I showed you, and stay there. When it gets to be night again, fly back to this exact spot and wait for me.” I shoved the strap of my bag over my right shoulder and peered up into her fiery red eyes. I asked in my most firm voice, “Do you understand?”

  Penelope showed me her teeth.

  “I know. You don’t like it. But you need to do this for me. All right?”

  My bloody Fae-gift shook her red and black mane, and then stomped her feet. She dared to bite onto the strap of my bag and yank me closer to her. Penelope huffed and set her head on top of mine, keeping me tucked in close.

  I held still, and muttered dryly, “Now is not the time for cuddles, my beautiful girl.”

  She pawed one hoof at the grassy ground.

  I added, “I will be fine.”

  Another rake at the ground with her hoof.

  Apparently, Penelope wasn’t a believer.

  Unable to move my head, I just lifted my emerald eyes and glared at the bottom of her strong jaw. “I’m not asking. You are going to do this. You can’t stay with me here. I’m incognito, and a big ass pegasus is going to scream ‘A royal is here!’ Understand?”

  Gradually, she lifted her head from on top of mine.

  I turned and placed both hands on the sides of her face, bringing her down to my level. I kissed my stubborn Fae-gift’s nose and whispered, “Be back here tomorrow night. Right here. Okay?”

  Penelope nodded gently.

  “Thank you.” I kissed her nose once more and then released her and stepped back. “Fly fast. And don’t get caught.”

  My Fae-gift sent one last glance in my direction. Her blood-red hooves beat the ground as she raced through the trees. Her glorious re
d and black wings spread out far, whapping at the air until she flew off into the darkness, skimming through the trees and up into the sky.

  I swallowed hard and turned to face Mount Hawthorne.

  I was alone in the Shifter Kingdom. Of my own accord.

  I’d surely lost my bloody mind.

  I yanked a black, ragged cloak out of my traveling bag. I shoved the hood up over my hair, the intricate, small braids how the elf merchants wear their hair—pointed ears showing—and then situated it over my arms for warmth. The traders’ sleep stations would be on the outer ridges of the capital, so I needed to search for my people there and join their group for the night. I had a long walk ahead of me, the street that led to the city at least an hour’s stroll through the forest from where I was. An hour in this dark forest…

  I decided to run.

  My sandals stomped over twigs and rabbits’ homes—and fallen trees every so often. Snakes watched me from their coiled posts below mounds of leaves. A skunk lifted its tail, but, luckily, didn’t spray me. Raccoons hissed as I raced by. A wolf lifted its head and snarled, flashing its teeth, before laying its head back down on its paws and closing its eyes to sleep.

  Any one of those creatures could have been a shifter. I was well aware of that fact, so I kept my feet moving and eyes watchful, ready to protect myself at any time. I would only use my royal firepower as a last resort here. My daggers were my option to keep my identity hidden in the Shifter Kingdom.

  Out of breath a half-hour later, I stumbled to a stop.

  My feet, now dirty as Fairy, were finally on the cobblestone street to Mount Hawthorne. I placed my hands on my knees and gulped oxygen into my tired lungs. I tipped my head to stare up at the shifter capital, still so far away—and far, far higher than I currently was. I could do this. I could.

  I shoved up, straightening to my full almost five feet of height, and put one foot in front of the other. My heart beat heavily inside my chest, never so scared in my entire life. I kept clenching my hands at my sides and darting my eyes back and forth at every sound…even when there were no sounds. That was all the more worrisome, the silence—a time for predators.

  But I was going to do this.

  I swallowed and jumped in place when a lion cub raced out from the forest onto the road. It was a tiny thing still, but he growled at me. Where the little ones are, the big ones are sure to follow.

  I quickened my pace, hurrying past it, and muttered to myself, “That was definitely a shifter.”

  A deeper growl—not the lion cub—growled in the forest.

  Sounded like the mother to me…

  I almost pissed myself.

  It is official. I have lost my bloody mind being here.

  Fuck walking. Running sounded excellent. Correctly so.

  I raced up the steep incline, my sandals loud on the cobblestones. I didn’t give a Fae damn about that. I just wanted to be with my people as fast as possible—even if I had a stitch in my side and every muscle in my body was on horrendous fire the longer I ran.

  My Fae-spark started to burn, too, though.

  I came to an abrupt halt. My hand flew to my heaving chest.

  My brows furrowed. Then I realized what it was.

  King Athon was pissed the Fae fuck off…

  And he was healing me.

  All my pain was instantly gone—in a mere second.

  I heal fast, but not that fast.

  I glanced at the moon that was high in the sky.

  Earlier, he had been sleeping. When I’d been in the air, traveling on Penelope’s back, he’d been peaceful—just like he’d been the very first time I’d awakened next to his unrefined, naked body in my bedchamber, and he’d still been asleep.

  I think I’d managed to wake him up tonight.

  The King of Shifters was fuming mad about it, too.

  Or, perhaps, he was upset that his control had slipped in his slumbering state, and he’d healed me like he’d ordered me not to do for him?

  It didn’t matter right now. My situation was too precarious to worry about his infuriated state of mind. I needed to focus on my own well-being. I glanced over my shoulder, the lion cub and its mother far behind me now. I began running again, pumping my arms hard while I sprinted up the cobblestone street, the lights still so far away.

  King Athon’s attitude never altered in my Fae-spark. He stayed irate as the minutes passed, his anger resonating like a beat within my own thumping heart. The shifter king managed not to heal me again, even when I fell to my knees and scraped my hands, my body exhausted.

  I stared at the ground below me, sweat dripping off my temples and onto the cobblestones. I gasped in air, and ordered darkly, “Get up, Trixie. Get up. You’re prey out here. Get up and move.”

  I stumbled to my feet on shaking legs and swayed where I stood. I stared at the twinkling lights of Mount Hawthorne, only a little closer than before. This was such a horrible idea.

  Why had I thought this was reasonable to do?

  It sure as Fairy is not.

  Fear made me move again—the fear of letting my people down. If I ended up being a drugged queen because my soul mate died, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. My people would suffer. Innocent lives would suffer. So I ran again.

  I ran until the lights were much closer.

  I ran until I couldn’t throw up again—six times was my limit.

  I ran until I spotted pointed ears on the side of the road.

  I ran until I face planted on the grass right next to the elf.

  On a parched, raw throat, I rasped, “Where are the elf merchants staying?”

  The elf gently rubbed my back, my shoulders quivering under her soft touch. She stated gently, “Right here. You’ve made it. You can relax now.”

  I blinked past the stinging burn of sweat in my eyes and raised my head. Dirt clung to my soaked skin as I squinted past the pain. At least thirty elves were sleeping serenely around a campfire. I dropped my head back to the soft grass and closed my eyes, thankfulness causing me to shake even more. I was a mess.

  I panted. “Thank the Fae above and below.”

  I smiled in my fatigued state, even with King Athon’s gloomy aggravation sitting heavily inside my Fae-spark.

  I was proud of myself.

  * * *

  Opaque gray smoke from the stomped-out campfire lingered in the air around me. I sat with my back against a thick tree, the bark scratching against my exposed skin. I hadn’t managed to sleep at all. So instead, I decided to keep watch over the elves unprotected in their slumbering state inside the shifter forest.

  Tree limbs shielded against the weather—which, luckily, stayed relatively decent all night. Gentle dew now coated the curls of grass, the early morning rays of sunlight highlighting the small droplets of water, creating a deceptive golden glow of serenity.

  Some of my people may have been conversing with one another right now, smiling at each other as they boasted about how many coins they would make today, but the more experienced elves—their clothes far dirtier than anyone else’s, having been in the Shifter Kingdom the longest—were positioned as I was. Their eyes stayed on the forest, scanning back and forth, constantly aware of their surroundings, ready to protect themselves and others if they must.

  I knew why I was here. I didn’t understand why they were.

  There were more elf merchants here than was normal.

  Typically, there would be a third of this amount.

  Did they enjoy living perilously, the rush of adrenaline that pumps your heart harder and makes you feel ten times more alive in that moment where danger lurks? Or did they love to travel and see the different kingdoms—despite the hazards of doing so? Perhaps they wanted to experience adventure, and they thought the Shifter Kingdom would be their best choice. Or, even gloomier, did they simply wish for death and decided this was the easiest way to accomplish it without doing it themselves?

  The possibilities boggled my mind. Even the elves who appeared ca
refree in this group knew deep down they weren’t safe here. But here we all were, with our own agendas for braving the Shifter Kingdom.

  I hoisted myself up when the more knowledgeable travelers stood. The rest of the elves took notice, too—paying more attention to their surroundings than they were truly letting on. I hooked the strap of my bag over my head, making it cross over my chest, so it was harder for anyone to steal from me. Shifter or elf, there were thieves among all of us—including me.

  “The market opens soon,” an elf with salmon-colored hair stated, brushing leaves off her green skirt. “If we leave now, we will miss the heavier traffic. Trust me. We want that.”

  No one argued.

  We followed the muddiest elves out of the sham of protection that the forest provided and onto the blatant open threat of the cobblestone street to Mount Hawthorne. I tried not to let my eyes widen too far with curiosity, barely managing to keep my gawking at the shifter capital to a not-too-obvious level. I’d flown over Mount Hawthorne plenty with Father, as he’d shown me the kingdoms at an early age, but from this level, the city built into the rock of the mountain, continuing to rise above you, showing fierce architecture with every step closer, King Athon’s capital city was intimidating.

  Animal sculptures were carved in the large boulders with the beasts’ heads higher than the trees, their arms extended over the cobblestone street, and sharp claws curled down to attack travelers. Ugly snarls twisted their lips with their teeth bared. There were no tigers that I could see, but then, my bloody soul mate was the only tiger shifter to be born in history—the man was just problematic. Issues followed him around, and now, I had to deal with those, too.

  Taverns and inns were the first buildings we passed. Veiled streets curved between them, only viewable from a certain angle and then gone again the next moment, the forest incorporated into the design. Vines and fauna and trees assisted in disguising certain entrances the farther we trudged into the city and up the inclined street—now many streets branching off one another. Mount Hawthorne would be a brute of a city to attack, the shifters who lived here with the apparent advantage to maim all who entered with bad intentions.