Prince by Blood and Bone: A Fantasy Romance of the Black Court (Tales of the Black Court) (13 page)

“Beezel, I’ll need my clothes back.” She’d fulfilled her part of the bargain with Kian. She’d tried. And she’d failed. Now it was time to go.

He stilled. “What clothes, miss?”

“My shorts and tank top. They must be clean by now.”

Beezel turned back to face her, his flexible face strangely wooden. “I’m sorry miss, those clothes have been destroyed.”

“Destroyed?”

“Yes, miss. The first day you were here. His Highness said you wouldn’t be needing them again, as you would not be leaving.” He crossed the room to a large wardrobe in the corner that had escaped the wreckage and opened the doors. “He had me procure new clothes when I went for supplies yesterday.” A riot of satins and silks spilled out of the wide doors.

Bryanna’s mouth gaped. She shook her head. “I can’t travel in those.”

The little gnome’s face went blank and he headed for the door.

“Beezel?”

He paused and turned to face her, his alien grey eyes with their slivered pupils seemingly filled with pity. “I’ll come back in an hour to fix the door.” And he left.

Bryanna stared at the covered dishes and delicate tea service on the tray. A fat tear slid off her cheek and landed on the silver teapot, running down the smeary reflection of her face.

“He never thought I was leaving,” she whispered. It shouldn’t hurt. He didn’t know her. Her own family didn’t give her any credit. She’d always been the youngest, the baby, the one to protect. But Kian had convinced her with that liquid voice. He’d sounded like he’d had enough faith in her to give her faith in herself, and she’d believed him. But he hadn’t believed in her after all. He’d purchased new clothes for her, he’d planned on her staying because he knew she’d fail.

A heartbreak’s worth of tears built up inside her chest.

She swallowed them down. She had to get out of here. With Kian back in animal form, he would never let her go until she’d killed herself trying to cure his curse. And after this morning’s cataclysmic disaster, she knew she would never be able to do it. She’d better go, without saying goodbye.

Bryanna ransacked the wardrobe, flinging expensive, gauzy gowns across the room, she hastily searched for something—anything—that would do to travel in. She had no idea of where she’d be going or what she’d be facing, but none of these clothes were fit for anything besides being a pampered princess in this wreck of a palace. They only confirmed her conclusions. He’d never intended for her to leave.

She’d seen the agony in his eyes just before he’d fled the room. If he hadn’t been intending to let her go before, there was no way he’d let her go now. No matter what he’d pledged.

Settling on the least puffy of the dresses, a sturdy, gold brocade with narrow sleeves and a slim fit, she got dressed. It took far longer than she wanted, her flying fingers tangling in the yards of fabric, tripping over each other in the still unfamiliar acts of lacing and hooking the fasteners. Couldn’t Beezel have found something with a zipper?

Fifteen minutes later, hair braided, wearing the sturdiest of the slippers, and a fur lined cloak, she was ready to go. She took one last look in the broken mirror above the dressing table and saw a stranger.

It wasn’t the elegant dress or the jagged crack running through her reflection’s face, it was the tilt of her chin and the determination in her eyes. Or desperation. She wasn’t sure which. She’d never been the one to make the decisions, but now, she had to depend on herself. And as the only MacElvy here, she’d decided. It was time to cut her losses and go find the rest of her family.

With what remained from breakfast tucked into a napkin, she picked up the lantern and stepped over the broken door. A cool breeze blew down the empty passage, lifting a loose piece of hair and stroking her face. She shivered, the cold trickling along her skin despite the heavy cloak. She glanced back into the false sanctuary of the warm, fire-lit room, wrapped her cloak tighter, and wished she could stay.

Lifting the lantern high, she looked right and left. She’d been here two weeks and barely could find her way between the few rooms she’d seen. Cairngloss was huge, something would lead to the surface. Holding the lantern in front of her, she made her way down the hall past the rows of doors. One of the doors was partway open. She peeked in. The dark room appeared empty, it smelled musty and unused. Something scraped the floor behind her. Spine tensed, she turned, her skirts flying around her ankles, but spotted nothing. Remembering the creepy white hobgoblins, she hurried on, pushed by the continued scuttling behind her. And the fear of being watched.

She needed an exit, not another room to hide in, and when she came to the hallway that led past the dining room and the library, she went further, searching for the workroom and the barred door Kian had warned her to leave alone.

Passing the workroom, that still smelled of the magic of her spell, she tried not to think about the aftermath of the spell. The intense passion that had broken down her barriers and even now linked her in some way to the angry man who had fled her room this morning. She averted her eyes and made her way to the end of the hall where it dead-ended in the ominous barred door.

For a moment, she thought better of what she was doing. Maybe Kian would honor their bargain. He’d said the fae couldn’t lie. But then she remembered the agony in his eyes and the despair in his roar. And the fact that he’d gotten rid of her clothes. Anger rushed through her. No, she couldn’t have any sympathy for him. He was still an elf, still manipulating her for what he needed and not considering her needs. The man of last night was not real. She had to go.

She pressed her ear to the door, but the solid wood held its secrets. Blowing out a breath, she struggled with the heavy, rectangular piece of wood wedged in the metal brackets, finally picking up one end and sliding it to the side. Before she could catch it, it hit the floor with a solid thud.

Bryanna’s breath caught.

The hall was still. No Beezel, no sound of the scuttling hobgoblins, no Kian.

She let her breath out and pushed on the door. It gave, the smell of cooking and a hot gust of moist air blew into her face. She gagged on the stench and stumbled into hell’s kitchen.

Two wide fireplaces, set across from each other, dominated the room filled with a bewildering assortment of sickly, yellow-green skinned monsters. Tall ones, fat ones. Some naked, some wearing rags. One turned his head all the way around on top of his squatty body with a teeth-filled hole where his stomach should have been. Some had round eyes, some had three. And one, sitting on a rocking chair and gnawing on a chicken leg, eyed her from a face dominated by a single, huge, unblinking eye.

In the center of the room, an enormous figure with six arms and bright orange dreadlocks yelled at a small, blue-haired female.“You burnt it!”

The female, wearing nothing but a dirty apron that did nothing to cover her dragging bare breasts that swung from side to side, yelled back. “I wouldn’t’ve if ye’d not been trying to poke me in the arse!” She spit at his feet and shook her bony fist.

Cold sweat raced down Bryanna’s back and she shivered in the sweltering heat. These were the real goblins, the ones Kian had said were locked away. And dangerous.

Her momentum sent her too close to the nearest fireplace, its gaping maw filled with flame and food. The leering twisted figure to her right stopped stirring his noxious black cauldron, and grinned at her. “What have we here?” Its beady black eyes swept up and down her golden dress. It reached a twisted claw-like hand out, its green nails encrusted in black grime.

“I’m sorry, wrong room.” She backed up, bumping into a fearsome fat one with a stretched out fork and bulbous eyes that crossed and uncrossed as they tried to focus on her.

“Not so fast.” He touched the fur lined edge of her heavy cloak with greasy fingers. “Pretty.” He stroked over her shoulder and down her back. “Pretty, pretty,” he said, breathing hot, rotten breath into her face.

She backed up, but there was nowhere to go. Goblins closed in from every corner, and the door she’d come in was now blocked by leering, yellow-green faces.

The twisted one’s fists clenched at its sides and it moved closer, its fire-lit shadow leaping tall across the room. “I saw her first. Mine.” It abandoned its stirring and jabbed the dripping ladle at the fat goblin.

Bryanna stepped to the side, attempting to evade both of the creatures’ scrabbling hands. Something squished under her foot. It shrieked and slid away. A large rat raced across the room, taking shelter behind a large cage over-filled with rodents.

The goblins held still, staring at her with accusing eyes. Nothing moved, except for the emaciated whippet across the room running on his squeaky track, rotating a spit skewering the biggest hog she’d ever seen.

“I’m sorry,” she said, backing towards the door. Orange-dreadlocks grinned, his flabby lips pulling back, revealing sharp, yellowed fangs. “Get her.”

Someone snatched her lantern. Grasping fingers tugged off her cloak and she dropped her napkin filled with her left-over breakfast. There was a sharp yank on her skirt and the sound of fabric tearing. She spun around, and snatched her dress from the claws of a goblin and backed into the wall.

“I knew he kept something over there. Delicious.” The twisted one smacked its lips. Extending a grimy talon it pulled down the shoulder of her dress. She slapped it away, and it hit back. Her head rebounded off of the wall and her vision spun in and out of black. The dress tore, shredding down and exposing her breast.

“Stop it!” she shouted, but the goblins leered and grabbed more fabric, rending the dress down. They tore off her corset and left her nothing but her thin, torn chemise.

Foot-long fork tines pushed into her belly. “Ah, we’ll feast tonight!”

She struggled to get away, but there was nowhere to go.

CHAPTER TEN

Bryanna cringed away from the chortling goblins wishing now she’d listened to Kian’s warnings. Fingers came at her from all sides, claws seized what remained of her chemise, and ripped.

The door slammed against the wall. A dark, hairy shadow burst into the room and roared, the sound reverberated through the room, hurting her eardrums. The large orange-haired goblin bellowed back, his gaping, yellow lips shaking with the sound.

Bryanna stared through the greasy, smoky air, trying to see this new threat. Then realized the new monster, ripping his way through the shrieking, screaming crowd, was Kian. He picked up goblins and hurled them aside, working his way through the melee and over to Bryanna. Bodies crashed into walls. Pots and pans clanged. A goblin flew by her face, its mouth wide and screaming. It landed in the hearth and knocked the cauldron to the floor. Bubbling stew spewed out. Bryanna and the other goblins scrambled to get out of the way.

The orange-haired leader picked up a bloody cleaver and turned on Kian. Roaring, they faced off for battle.

It was over almost before it had begun.

The large goblin advanced, cleaver in hand. Kian lashed out, his claws slashing into his opponent’s arm. The goblin screamed, pulled back, and raised his weapon. Kian’s movements blurred faster. The goblin’s arm came down. Kian ducked, and came up behind him. His long wolfish jaw opened and he bit the back of the goblin’s neck. Green blood sprayed as Kian shook the limp, six-foot tall body back and forth, its rag-doll dreadlocks whipping side-to-side.

Kian gave their leader one last, hard shake. Something cracked and he threw the limp body to the side. The bloody cleaver hit the floor with a clang.

Wails of despair rose from the crowd, but no one moved. The creature lifted his muzzle to the ceiling and roared, his fangs glinting red in the reflected firelight. Moaning goblins dropped to the floor, and abased themselves in the blackened grease and crumbs.

“Kian.” She barely breathed his name. This was the man she’d spent the night making love to? This gory, angry, thing, she wasn’t sure even knew who she was?

He shook his head, blood spattering from his tusks. His eyes glowed hot, and he growled, advancing toward her.

“Wait,” she said, shaking and backing away, tripping over the prostate form of a goblin.

“Come,” he growled and swept her off her feet. He threw her over his shoulder, stooping low to scoop up her pile of clothes. They stepped through the open door where Beezel cringed in the corner of the hall.

Kian carried her down the corridor. The sharp points of his claws pricked her thighs and the bones of his shoulder pushed hard in her stomach. She lifted her head and saw Beezel close the door and drop the bar into place behind them.

“I can explain,” she started, but he cut her off.

“Don’t speak.” His voice shook. “My control is thin in this shape.”

She kept silent on the trip through the corridors, until they entered her room. He tossed her on the bed, dumping her shredded dress and cloak to the floor. She bounced back up. “I’m sorry, I had no idea they would be right there. I thought…”

“You didn’t think.” It came out as a near-growl. “I warned you.”

“I was trying to find a door to the outside, to see if I could leave.”