Rumpel's Prize (16 page)

“I’ve missed you so bad.” His heartfelt whisper made her heart melt. Jumping up, he tugged on her hand. “Look at my room. Look what Father made me while you were gone.”

Only once he forced her to look around did she notice the large, rectangular object made of wood and glass sitting on his dresser. Laughing with delight, she tapped the glass and grinned as the beautiful orange and black guppies within scattered. “Your very own fish! How wonderful.”

She could have stayed in this room with him forever, but then she heard the back door bang open and shut and then a female groan. Stomach twisted with nerves, she turned. “Let’s go downstairs.”

He shook his head. “I wanna play with my fish a little bit longer. Don’t leave me again, Shay Shay.”

Smile wobbling for a fraction of an instant, she patted his head. “I’ll try really hard not to, okay?”

His face scrunched up before he gave a reluctant nod. “Okay, but I won’t take long, I promise.”

“Okay, don’t.” And with an air kiss, she sailed down the stairs.

“Briley, what in the world!”

Her mother’s voice drifted to her from the kitchen, and when she rounded the corner, she stopped and held out her arms. Words clogged her throat and all she could do was drink in the sight of her. Betty was as beautiful now as she’d been the day her father had stumbled into her at the public library.

They’d remained on Earth only long enough to let the rest of her family in on the secret fountain of youth—life in Kingdom.

Shayera had never met her grandparents; they’d not wanted to come along, claiming that they were too old for such adventure. Only Briley’s insistence had made Uncle Kelley come along.

Mother’s dark eyes grew wide. Rubbing at the dirt on her cheek with the back of her hand only caused it to smudge worse. Her blue-jean overalls were stained with dirt and streaked with mud, but to Shayera she’d never looked prettier.

“My baby.” Betty broke the silence first, rushing to her daughter and wrapping her up tight. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Somehow Mother always smelled of the soft fragrance of baby powder. Inhaling deeply, feeling as though her very soul were being cleansed, Shayera snuggled into her breast, remembering when she was ten and a hug was magic and could make all the monsters disappear.

Giving her a final big squeeze, Betty dropped her arms and led Shayera to the table. “How is this possible? I thought you’d be gone three months. Not that I’m not overjoyed, mind you.”

Shayera laughed. “I have no idea. I was in the castle, ready to dive into the next test, and then I was here. I don’t know, maybe Rumpel is being nice to me, letting me see you before I have to go. Or maybe this is the test.”

Betty scoffed, flicking at her daughter’s hand. “This is no test, I can assure you. You’re really here. How is he treating you?”

“All things considered, not too bad.”

Narrowing shrewd eyes, Betty studied her daughter. In a former life she’d been a psychologist and had never lost her ability to read others. “I sense a but in there.”

She quickly shook her head. “No but.” But that wasn’t entirely true. The memory of last night, of what they’d done, came crashing down on her, making her feel suddenly hot and combustible.

As she twisted her thick hair into a fat braid, Shayera’s grin wavered.

“You’re as lovely as ever, little girl. But I gave birth to you and I know when something’s wrong with my daughter.”

The truth was on the tip of her tongue when a roar loud enough to frighten a beastie thundered from out back. “Damn it all to bloody hell, may it die a cruel and vicious death!
Mon Ange
!” her father cried out, and his loud clomping up the steps made her eyes widen.

Rarely did her father ever swear, and if he did, he was truly mad.

Betty nibbled her lip. “He’s a beast this morning. You know how we and the Depardus compete every year for the largest pumpkin? Well—”

The door slammed open with a crack, and the heavy mutterings of her father rumbled through the mudroom.

Grimacing, Betty patted her hand. “Give me a moment, honey, to try to settle him. Just know anything he says, it’s not technically directed at you.”

With those final ominous words, Betty jerked from her chair and ran to the back room, disappearing behind the door.

There were heated murmurings and then another door slammed. A second later, her father’s large frame stomped through. His thick brows were gathered into a vee.

“The mangy bastard poisoned my patch, I know he did!”

Standing, wondering why her father hadn’t greeted her as he normally would, Shayera chalked it up to his annoyance over the annual contest that meant so much to him.

Father was convinced that if he could just grow the biggest pumpkin, somehow, miraculously, the villagers would suddenly learn to love them. A pipe dream, Mother said, but one Father clung to with the tenacity of a pit bull with a bone.

He stabbed a blunt finger into the air while riffling his other hand through his mud-streaked black hair. Father never looked so bad as when he gardened. Generally he was fastidious with his appearance, but not when digging in the dirt.

“You’ll see. Your mother doesn’t believe me.” He paced the length of the kitchen, glowering at the copper kettle hanging above the stove as if it’d done him harm. Rounding, he shoved fists into his heavy autumn jacket. “Come with me. Come see this travesty.”

“Daddy.” She tried to keep the hurt from leaking into her voice but failed miserably. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” She held out her arms, waiting for him to pick her up and twirl her about like he always did, but it didn’t happen.

Shoving a cap onto his head, he nodded. “Yes, yes, my little rose, I’ve missed you, but this is of the utmost importance.”

More than a little hurt and wondering where her mother had gone off to, Shayera got up from the table and joined him as he walked outside, gesticulating wildly to the pumpkin patch.

“There, you see!” His large chest filled like a bellows. “Poisoned,
non
? You can see it, tell me you can.” He turned and pleaded with her.

And try as she might, Shayera couldn’t understand at all why he was so mad. The pumpkins were fat and a buttery orange, perfectly round and ready to pluck. “Daddy, they’re fine.” She looked at him.

“
Non
. No.” He swiped a hand through the air, marching back and forth. “That Arondale poisoned my lot; it is so obvious.” He jerked his fists in the air. “They are small, his are not. We grew our pumpkins from the same seeds; my lot is a good kilo smaller than his. How can you not see?” He stopped immediately and spun to face her, and then a light of something seemed to click in his eyes.

More convinced now than ever that she was actually in the game and not merely visiting her family, she hugged her arms to her chest, realizing just how real and dangerous that room in Rumpel’s castle was. It would be so easy to spot the break in reality if her senses weren’t so engaged, if it all didn’t feel so real. But her father just didn’t act like this.

It couldn’t be him. He wouldn’t be so heartless, he would hug her and pet her head and call her his little—

“
Mon
petite chou
.”

Cabbage. He would call her his little cabbage.

“Oh my darling, I am so sorry.” He shook his head. “Look at what I’ve done, how I’ve scared you. My baby girl.”

And then he was rushing at her and twirling her around just as she’d known her real father would, and his hug was so warm, so rich and alive, that she began to question her own doubts.

What was real? What wasn’t? The lines were beginning to blur.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she smiled into him. “I love you, Daddy. I missed you.”

Being held by him felt so good; his hand rubbed up and down the length of her spine, petting her like you would a frightened kitten, and she wormed closer into his touch, because now she was truly home.

Then a violent blast of arctic air slammed between them, breaking them instantly apart, and Shayera was confused again. Her father blinked as if startled, and then with a shake of his head, he looked up to the sky.

“Bloody weather,” he groused, dusting off his jacket before turning back to the garden. “We need to fix this.”

More than a little unnerved by the weather, she frowned. “How, Daddy? Call Danika and ask her to grow it larger?” She laughed.

But he didn’t join in, instead his eyes filled with glee. “
Oui.
”

Not that she was a prude exactly, but… “Daddy, that’s cheating.”

His square jaw with at least a day’s growth of black stubble clenched tightly. “It’s not cheating when Arondale struck the first blow.”

It was not in Shayera’s nature to tell her father no to anything. Usually. Father was her hero, the man who’d saved her from near death at age nine. She loved him dearly, but he wasn’t acting like himself.

“You don’t know that he did… this.” She stumbled over the word, because it was hard for her to even accuse their neighbor of cheating when to her it all looked as it should.

“Bah, it’s as clear as the nose on my face.” He rolled his wrist as if swatting her words away. “Obvious to anyone with eyes. We must win this contest.”

“But at the expense of our honor?”

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. “Love, no one will ever know. Danika can keep our secret, and you’ll see once she arrives that I am right. Somehow that viper spoiled my crops.”

No matter how she looked at this, Shayera couldn’t agree, but maybe if Danika came she’d make him see reason where neither she nor her mother obviously could. “Call her then. Plead your case.”

Spitting by the sole of his boot, he glowered at her. “You know she will call me a fool, just as you and your mother have said.”

She gasped. “Daddy, I never said—”

Holding up a hand, he shushed her. “You did and well you know it. She will not help me in this, but if you call her and tell her that you wish it done for a different purpose, she will do it.”

“But she’s not my godmother. Not yet anyway,” she sputtered, because he already knew that. “She cannot grant me wishes; no one can at the moment.”

“Not true.” His smile grew wide. “While you were gone, the paperwork was finally processed through and Danika is now well and truly your godmother.”

Squealing with joy, because unlike some, she’d always wanted her own godmother, she laughed. “Really? I cannot believe it. Usually someone with my history cannot—”

Brows dipping, he shook his head violently. “They were wrong. Now call her, Shayera, for the contest is being held this evening and we must all have time to shower and change.”

The thrill of having a godmother was squelched by the reality of what her father was asking. “You of all people should know better than to ask this of me. You, who taught me that cutting corners was not the answer.”

“Well, clearly I was wrong, Shayera,” he grumped. “I’ve toiled for weeks on this and I will not allow Arondale’s treachery to go unpunished. This is the year our fortunes change. Now. Call. Her.”

Each word was carefully enunciated and it was on the tip of her tongue to do it. Her desire to be her father’s golden child, to always make him proud, was so ingrained that she’d almost break her own rules to make him happy.

Dropping her eyes to the ground, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Father. But I won’t.”

His face screwed up into a twisted, demonic mask, and when his mouth parted she knew immediately the words that would pour from it. “You fail.”

Her heart gave a violent lurch and the meager contents of her stomach heaved because she’d been right all along—this had been her test.

She’d never really been home. Shuddering as the dimensions of the room reformed back into walls of stone, she stared absently at the floor, not sure exactly what she felt at the moment.

Numb. Betrayed. Hurt. And then finally joy…

Not because she’d failed, gods, she knew that wasn’t good and could only hope that whatever punishment came from failure it wouldn’t be bad or long, but because that really hadn’t been her father acting so cruelly. Being so ugly.

Her dad was home, and he was kind, and gentle, and a beautiful soul, and at least in that she could find solace.

Turning her gaze up, she stared at the wall, knowing he watched her, and she smiled. “One more test, Rumpel, and then I go home.”

That night Rumpel tossed back one tumbler full of brandy after another, the burn easing his needs, his desire to seek her out. She’d not been sad, or miserable like last time. She’d been elated.

To leave him.

That fact tore at his gut like a rotten, foul stench. If she was so keen to go, then he was doing a lousy job of seeing to her. Last month had been a failure of epic proportions.

Shayera Caron was a puzzle, a dangerous, delicate, beautiful one. He desired and feared the need she instilled in him, the want and passions that rivaled that of what he’d felt for Caratina.

Staring into the dancing flames of the fireplace, he vowed that starting tomorrow, everything would be different. Anything she wished, his touch, his words, his time. Anything she required would be hers. Already he could feel the rush of time breathing down his neck.

Somewhere in the castle a lonely howl echoed…