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“I answer to my king and not any notturno.” When I think Benoit might have a full-on panic attack, I add, “Please settle down. I’ll only be gone for half the night. At most, the entire night, and you can check on me in the morning.”
“D’Artaron, it sounds like you intend to breach the Winter Court.”
“I intend to breach the Winter Beauty.”
Benoit gasps and covers his mouth with his hand. “How?”
“With the Spring princess’s portal magic.” I start pacing, a plan forming in my head.
“But you said her magic is dangerous.”
“All magic is dangerous in the hands of inexperienced fae.”
Benoit takes a moment and then asks, “Do you intend to take her magic?”
“Mmhm.”
“That is… It’s wrong.” He recites what King Et’enne always says. “We must never share our magic with anyone.”
“It is necessary, Benoit.”
“It is a violation.”
“Not if she gives it to me.”
“She won’t.”
“She will.” I tap the hilt of my sword. “She’ll give me anything I ask.”
Benoit walks up to me. His spicy masculine scent invades my senses before he steps into my personal space. “Most of us, Commander, would give you anything without you ever having to ask. Anything at all.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“And yet you never take.” He steps back with a demure smile.
“The Spring princess needs clothes,” I say.
“I’ll prepare a trunk for her with some of our finest mourning dresses. She’ll have to do her own hair and makeup, but everything else I will prepare so you can take it to her.”
Benoit leaves me with more thoughts than I care to admit.
12
D’ARTARON
My magic carries the packed trunk for the princess while I enter the ground floor of the dark tower, heading for the shadow portal my king set up in case we need to transport his mother. My boots crush glass and crunch over more glass as I stand in front of the wall where the shadow portal is no more.
Shadows move around, so I check the ceiling, then make a round around the floor, checking the places away from the doors, but find nothing.
Where the hell did the damn thing go?
I crouch and scoop up the shattered glass, then rub it through my gloved fingers and sense its magical residue. I recognize the Spring princess’s magic right away. It carries her scent, that of mixed spring blossoms, predominately cherry. Strong and yet feminine and alluring. It’s the same scent that’s been stuck in my nostrils since I met her. I can’t seem to get rid of it.
I wiggle my nose. Several larger glass pieces lie on the ground, and I use my magic to gather them up, trying to reconstruct the object that shattered. It wasn’t here before, and I have no clue where it came from. I put the trunk down and focus all my energy into constructing an object that is starting to look like a circle with jagged edges. Once done, I regard it more carefully.
Is it a weapon?
I touch one jagged edge, and it’s as fine tuned and as sharp as a blade. It is a weapon. A foreign weapon in my court.
