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Trevor’s face was drawn with concern. He shook his head. “No, that can’t be right. This isn’t your battle …”
“Apparently the queen thinks it is. She said I might be helpful, and she is anxious to have Pestale routed out and captured so that she can return him to the Dark Realm before he does any further harm in the human one,” Royce answered again on an unhappy sigh as she continued to take in the scene around them.
“No,” Trevor repeated. “Red—you can’t mean it—she didn’t actually think you would be able to help us?”
She took instant umbrage and folded her arms across her chest with her jacket tucked in under her arm. “Excuse me, Trevor?”
“Well, you never took your warrior training seriously at all, did you? When it came to jousting, hand-to-hand combat, and such, you always cried off. Royce, you can’t really fight.”
She relented. It was true. She had never enjoyed participating in the actual contact fighting that went on. “Well, as to that, perhaps I didn’t find it as wonderful as you did, but I did take it seriously, and you are wrong about me. I had quite a few combat sessions, with Breslyn in fact. When he heard I was worried about taking another Fae student on and possibly hurting him, he offered to help me out and taught me how to control my royal powers.” She put up her chin. “And he said I did very well, in fact.” She smiled superiorly at him. “And then, I didn’t need to keep
practicing the same skills every single day … had other things to do.”
“But, Red … you don’t even have a death weapon … do you?”
She pointed her open hand into the air above her head, and her Death Sword appeared. She closed her fist over it and said, “What do you think this is? My brother has my father’s sword, and I have my mother’s.” She sent it off once more.
“But … look at you. You aren’t even dressed for this—jeans and sneakers!”
She looked down at herself. “What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” Her hand waved over his leather vest that he wore over a brown tee, with leather pants and sandals. “I’m dressed just as fight-perfect as you.”
“You don’t look intimidating,” he scoffed. “You look like a human—a schoolgirl,” he added on a laugh.
“What, and you think that you look intimating in that leather outfit? You look like a hunk on the make—nothing more.” She snorted.
His well shaped brow went up. “A hunk? Really?” And then he remembered his argument and stuck out his chin. “I am a warrior, dressed in the leathers of a warrior. You … well, Red, you look like a young and inexperienced Fae—if it weren’t for your torque, I wouldn’t even notice that you are a princess.” He shook his head. “Pestale will laugh if you pit yourself against him dressed like some human teenager!”
Unconsciously her hand went to the gold torque around her neck, a sign of her royalty. She often forgot it was there. She sighed and silently conceded that what he was saying had a ring of truth to it. She often dressed like a human, toned down the iridescence in her eyes, tried to fit in with them. She loved humans. She understood them and had unwittingly tried to mimic them. Did that diminish who she was, she wondered. At any rate, she waved this aside. “I don’t intend to challenge him. I mean to help you and the Milesian in other ways—like finding him for instance.”
“I am proud of being a Milesian,” said a strong male voice at her back. “But I have a name, and ye may use it when referring to me.”
Royce looked around and saw a huge, muscular, amazingly handsome male, naked to the waist but for a leather strap across his chest that held the Death Sword sheathed at his back. He like Trevor also wore leather pants—in fact, she thought with her mouth dropping, he wore them very well!
The next thing she knew she was picked up by the waist and brought up close to his body. She stared, stunned for the moment. His blond mass of thick waves blew around his face in the breeze, and his tattoos were intricate and spoke of a mixture of Dark and Light Magic. As his blue eyes scanned her own, her brain jumbled into freeze position and went blank—totally blank. She could think of nothing to say, certainly not ‘unhand me’. No, those words never came to mind.
He was virile, his voice was deep and intoxicating, and he was in command of himself in a way that gave off sensual vibes.
The princess tried to recover and cleared her throat. However, at that point in their meeting he picked her up cradle-like in his strong arms, and she had to hold onto his neck for balance. She freed one finger and pointed it at his nose as she told him, “Put. Me. Down.”
“Ye doona want me to do that, do ye, Seelie Fae?”
“I do and now—right now!”
He laughed, set her on her sneakered feet, looked her over, and laughed again. She felt her cheeks fill with heat and avoided meeting his gaze as she bent to pick up her denim jacket, which had fallen during their meeting.
“Och aye, if ye point that sweet peach at me ye’ll be finding yerself in m’arms once more, lass,” he said on a low and husky note.
She unbent and gave him a scalding glance as she held her jacket to just below her breasts, which drew his eyes to her breasts. She felt hot all over.
“This is Princess Royce,” stuck in Trevor, shaking his head over this and frowning. “Apparently our queen has asked that she tag along and … er … help us.”
“Help us? She be no more than a slip of lass! Help us,” scoffed Chancemont.
“I am a Royal Princess, and I am more than capable of lending a hand!” Royce stood up to the Milesian in spite of the fact that he made her feel unlike herself. In fact, he made her insides quiver, which was she thought very uncomfortable.
The next thing she knew she was in his arms and they were shifting. There was no time to object, but she realized at once that the Milesian mode of shifting was different than a Fae’s. She didn’t like it.
It was a rocky ride, and she held onto him. However, she scarcely had time to consider in how many ways she didn’t like their form of locomotion before she blinked and discovered he held her firmly on a bed of smooth green grass. Judging by the array of colors, extraordinary foliage, and extremely unlikely wildlife milling about, she knew they were in quite another dimension.
