Rising Tensions

Derya walked among the fragrant roses in this secret garden Argana shared with only a precious few. Her hostess called it her mental retreat. She shouldn't be out here with everything that still needed doing inside the castle, but with the wedding drawing closer and closer and Safiya continuously stirring tempers and tensions, she needed a few moments to herself.

Women like Safiya were not outside of her experience, and one or two of her royal cousins were as haughty, powerful, and full of themselves, but with everything that happened to Derya since she got stuck in the human world, she found it harder to hold onto her temper with the irritating wench.

"Thought I would find you out here. I should have waited till after the wedding to share my retreat with you," Argana said, joining her.

"Strategic miscalculation," Derya said, touching the velvety soft petals of a bloodred rose the size of her hand as she bent down to take in the delicate fragrance that reminded her so much of her mother.

"Andor wanted to discuss some things with you in the privacy of his office, but Safiya got wind of his intentions and hijacked him. Bailey attempted to intervene but had no success. He asked me to ask you to meet him here at midnight. For proprieties sake, you will not be alone, although you will have some privacy."

"I cultivated that variety myself. Bailey named it Shellashar when she was around nine, don't know where she came across the name," Argana said with a gentle smile, and Derya froze.

The wolf surged to the surface, and the rune activated, raw fire dancing through her nerve endings.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"My mother came from the northern isles of Mire. Her family still has the old blood of the ancient kings, and in that language, 'Shellashar' means 'royal daughter,' or princess as we say it now. It comes from a dead language."

What did it mean that Bailey knew that word?

"She named the blue one as well. Minchraigh," Argana offered quietly and Derya stared at her, her fangs showing despite the rune.

"Are you playing with me?" she asked angrily.

"No, my child."

"Minchraigh was the castle where my ancestors established their dominion beyond the..." she couldn't say veil out here, not knowing who might listen, "border of this land."

Argana needed no explanation.

"How strange," she said, walking over to Derya and touching the rose.

"What does it remind you of?"

"It's scent is exactly the same as that of my mother's hair after she washed it with the soaps Ninive concocted with such skill."

"It seems fate has an odd sense of humor. Come, I need your advice."

***

They barely entered the castle when a commotion in the great hall drew their attention, and they moved in that direction to find a boy being held by two guards. He tried to shrug out of their hold but couldn't budge their grip.

"What is this about?" Argana asked in her most imperious voice, and the small intruder with his strawberry blond hair and the most amazing blue eyes stared at her with anger and defiance.

"I have to speak to her!" he pointed at Derya without any doubt, and somehow, he seemed familiar, as if she had seen him before, yet she had not.

The look in his eyes, the hostility, turned her curiosity to something much more unsettling.

"Why?" Argana asked.

"None of your business, witch." he spat, and if that last word had not been in the old tongue, things might have gone a little awry.

"What language is that? I do not recognize it," Safiya said suspiciously, making her way through the throng of curious onlookers.

Without having to be told, Derya suspected this boy was fae but close enough to human that even with those eyes, he could easily pass if he could just keep that tongue of his in check.

Unease slithered down her spine.

"I do," Derya said, not wanting Safiya to overthink this.

"It sounds fae!" the princess declared, and the boy grew absolutely still.

"And how would you know what fae sounds like?" Derya asked, forcing herself to sound amused when her insides were knotting. "The boy comes from my father's lands."

It was, after all, the truth.

"Apologize to the lady for calling her such an uncouth thing, and I shall grant you an audience, young master," she said, and he glanced from her to Argana before slowly relaxing and righting himself.

"Please let go," Derya asked, and she had to raise a brow at Argana when the guards didn't obey.

"Let go," Argana said, and the men reluctantly obeyed.

"I apologize for calling you that name," he said, his gaze traveling to Safiya, sensing the danger she posed.

"Why would you indulge such a low creature?"

"Her father sent me," he said, holding out his hand, and Derya almost stepped forward when she recognized the amulet suspended from a gold chain.

A werewolf tooth encased in gold.

Her father did not send him, but her brother encountered this stray fae or perhaps her sister-in-law.

How? When?

"Let me see that?" Argana asked, and the boy reluctantly walked up to her.

He glanced at Derya, clearly having been instructed to give it to her and no one else, but he didn't know that one such as himself could not hand a royal princess an object directly. She met his eyes, wanting him to see that she understood and there was no danger.

Argana reached for the amulet, and he almost pulled his hand away but didn't.

"What an ugly thing!" Safiya said, ripping the amulet from Argana's hand and holding it away from her as if it defiled her. "What is that? It is huge! No wolf has teeth this big."

"No, it does not belong to a wolf. My great-grandfather killed a werewolf during the Antarian Wars. Marshclagh the great. It won him a kingdom and the hand of a princess."

"Why would your father send such an unworthy messenger?" Safiya asked, her nose wrinkling.

"Who would rob a boy?"

She didn't like Safiya handling her great-grandfather's remains so callously.

"Why would anyone want to steal this horrifying thing?"

"Because a werewolf tooth from the last great werewolf king taken by the last great northern king on the ice flats of Antaria is worth a king's ransom. It is a gift from my soon-to-be father-in-law to me and not something he could risk his daughter's life with by sending it with her. These are believed to be objects of great magic. Even my uncle would give his left testicle to own this, and he is a man who already has two of everything," Andor said, approaching her from the main entrance and taking the amulet from her hand.

"What did Derya's father offer you in return for delivering this?" Andor asked, admiring the artifact.

Something vulnerable entered the boy's gaze.

"He said that the princess will take care of me, perhaps give me a place to sleep beside the dogs," the boy said, and Derya's heart broke for the waiflike youngster in his worn clothes that didn't quite fit him anymore. Dirty, bedraggled, and probably lice-ridden.

How did her brother know where she was?

"Why didn't you just steal this and buy a mansion?" Andor asked, seemingly amused.

"He said if I failed in my duties, he would find me and let me share in the fate the hu.... the bad people dealt to my parents."

This boy belonged to the murdered fae.

Did he know his parents were dead because of her?

Yes, it was there in the hostility of his gaze, but then he saw Bailey, and the color drained from his face.

He saw what happened, and he tried to cross the veil, but he ran into those seeking her. Her brother sent this boy back because he couldn't come here himself, knowing the child could not return again and wanting her to know he knew the truth.

But why sent the artifact when he couldn't inherit their father's throne without it?

Was it a promise that he'd find a way?

"You are not seriously going to allow that in your home?" Safiya said.

The boy's eyes became more intense.

"If it is what my father-in-law expects of me, then it shall be done. But you will get a thorough scrubbing and a proper set of clothes," Andor decreed, and the boy's expression clearly said the idea of a bath scared him more than meeting his end.

"You forget, sire, we have no dogs," Bailey reminded.

"We have horses and pigs, but then we'd have to keep scrubbing him. Mirah? Find him a room in one of the old servant's quarters and find him work to occupy his hands."

"The king said I should stay near the princess and keep her safe," the boy said, his chin up and his shoulders squared.

He couldn't be more than ten.

Andor almost laughed as he considered the little obstinate imp.

"Derya? He is yours to command?"

"Get him cleaned first, find him a place to sleep beside the hearth in my room, and we can discuss this in the morning," she had to have a talk with him and get him isolated from the other servants.

He was a danger to all of their lives with that mouth of his.

"How can you allow a stranger into your house like this? I would never have him past the door!" Safiya spat as Mirah led the boy away with the two guards in her wake and two more servants.

Derya wanted to follow them, but it would look odd, and she didn't trust the boy whose name she didn't even know.

"Brave sir, what is your name?" she asked, and he stopped, turning.

"Stick, Princess."

"Your real name, Stick."

"Langfhurd Troy, Princess."

"Troy, then, behave like a true... gentleman."

He grasped what she meant, nodded, and stalked off like he owned the place.

"What would such one as he... know about being a gentleman? This was probably the first time he's been inside a real building," Safiya mocked her.

"I would settle for him not biting anyone," Derya said with a touch of Argana's cool arrogance and her father's command of any situation.

Safiya didn't like it.

And she'd bet her life that Troy Langfhurd had not been born a feral child. Something happened to his family to force them from their home and have them on the run.

They were probably on their way to cross the veil and take their chances on the other side when the town's people caught up to them.

Poor boy, he watched Derya murder three humans, and then he had to watch humans murder his parents. She had no idea what all of that did to him and if he could be trusted, but this was their fault, and she would make it right.

"He will be fine," Andor said.

"Thank you for understanding."

He offered her the amulet.

"It belongs to you."

The boy said he had a message. Was this it? Probably. The less he knew, the better.

"I am honored."

"Don't forget to meet me," he reminded.

"Meet you where?" Safiya asked immediately, distracted from her peevish pout.

"Where I meet my fiancé is none of your concern, Princess."

His cold tones made those brilliant eyes narrow.

"It isn't proper to meet without a chaperone."

"We already have one, thank you," Andor turned his back on her and walked away, but she followed him anyway.

"Andor, I was looking for you. We have to speak privately."

"It isn't proper for a man with a fiancé to speak to another woman without a chaperone," he used her delicate barb against her.

"The boy knows, does he not?" Bailey asked almost too low for even her to hear, and their eyes met.

"I believe he saw," she said as quietly, taking her mistress' arm and pretending to look at flower samples.

"Should I take care of it?" Argana asked, close to them, and she didn't need to explain. It shook Derya to realize that to protect Bailey; this lady would do anything.

"No. I will take care of it."

"Do not fail. There is a lot at stake here," Argana murmured and walked off.

This was a side of her hostess she had not thought to see.

"If you had not bonded with me, what would she have done to me?"

"That would have depended on you."

They measured each other, and Derya nodded.

She didn't know if she would have acted differently in their position; supernaturals were even more family orientated than humans.

But despite being powerless, Argana wasn't human.