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Warmest Regards,
Alecta.
He let out a long breath. After visiting Gertrude’s estate in search of Zoya, her lack of wealth had been apparent. It was why he hadn’t brought her up to the queen. Whoever had initiated the skull pact, it clearly wasn’t her. He picked up the list of possible suspects lying on his desk and glared at it, wanting to light it on fire and burn it to nothing.
He needed a new tactic. Some of the members of the court had started declining his invitation for a meeting. A growl drew out of him and he threw down the list. It was pointless. He’d never find the one who plotted against Zoya. He might as well just keep her hidden under a cloaking spelland have her start a new life. Of course, a maid in his household was too obvious. He’d have to set her up at a distance from him, maybe not visit her for a while, though that put his nerves on edge.
But if he gave up on finding the killer, he’d also be consigning Odette to death. At the desperation that roiled his stomach, he snatched the list back up. There had to be a clue, something,someonehe was missing.
Kilron. He had to be a part of this. Perhaps Rothbart should enlist the swans in his search. They could keep watch on his home, on him, better than Rothbart, without drawing suspicion. He crumpled the parchment in his hands. Damn it, he was grasping at straws.
Pressing his fists into his desk, he fought to take even breaths. He pictured Odette, recalling her silken bare skin against his. Of her wrapped in his arms as they slept, and a calmness settled over him.
She’d probably be angry at him for abandoning her, but when he’d magicked the small lantern to light in the tiny cabin, she hadn’t awoken and she looked so peaceful there, asleep, he’d wondered how often Odette ever experienced that. Peace. And unlike the last time, he’d decided not to wake her.
He checked his window and noted the rays filtering in through the curtains. She was in swan form. Just as well. He needed to come up with a plan. Something solid that would expose his sister’s killer and save Odette’s life.
When he was done, he’d reward himself. He’d find Odette and take her to the lake to transform, if she hadn’t already. Then he’d bring her to his home, offer her a warm bath and a nice dinner.
He suspected it had been a long time since Odette felt taken care of. From what she’d told him, probably much longer than the two months she’d been a swan. Rothbart wanted to make her feel that. He wanted to make her smile. Then, he’d lay her in his soft clean bed and they’d have their way with each other.
His body roused at the thought, an energy spiking through his veins that heated him to his core. The taste of her tit on his tongue, the feel of being inside her, the sounds of her as she unraveled at his touch. His mind wandered, imagining the things he wanted to do to her—the forbidden areas where his fingers itched to roam, the curves his lips longed to claim—and what her succulent mouth and hands might do to him in response. A low moan escaped him and he felt himself hardening. Shit. If she hadn’t transformed, he’d be rushing back to the cabin right now.
“Oh, good. You'refinallyhere.”
Rothbart jumped. Holding in a curse, he clutched his robes around him and spun toward the door to face Prince Torsten.
He took a calming breath, willing his raging body to calm. “What may I do for you, my prince?”
“I have been waiting several days for you to return. Almost thought of breaking into your office.”
Rothbart contained a clever grin. That was impossible. Spells were placed on this room to keep anyone but Rothbart from entering when he was absent. “Forgive me, my prince, but I’ve been indisposed.”
“Yes, attacking Kilron, I hear.” The prince sat at his normal place at the table and grinned at him. “Not that he doesn’t deserve it. That man has my mother’s ear in a way that even you don’t.” His grin dropped and his fingertips drummed on the tabletop, but then he shook his head. “Which is why I couldn’t ask him. Everything must remain very hush-hush, you see. Anyway, I am in need of a couple more of your portal beans.”
Rothbart feared this might happen. He’d allowed the prince to have a taste and now he couldn’t get enough.
“Prince Torsten, while I am sure you have a good reason to make such a request—”
The prince lifted a finger. “Don’t do that. Don’t give me a lecture.”
Rothbart tugged on his robes and struggled to hide his irritation under a passive face. “Can I ask why you need them, my prince?”
Prince Torsten leaned back in the chair, looking a bit troubled. “I am not supposed to tell anyone, but I fear I must tell you. We will need the protection of the royal sorcerers tonight, and you will have to know what to be on the lookout for.” He looked Rothbart over. “And I trust you.”
Rothbart glanced over at his sundial, wondering when he was going to leave. “That is a relief to hear, my prince.”
He held out a hand. “But first, I want the beans.”
Rothbart ground his teeth but stepped behind his desk and magicked open a drawer that contained his spare beans. He pulled out two and walked them over to Prince Torsten, placing them in his outstretched palm.
The prince pocketed them and smiled. “It is a most fantastical story. I met this girl, a princess, and she is the most wonderful, sweet, beautiful creature in the world.”
That was a surprise. Prince Torsten had found someone to marry before his mother’s ball? Queen Emiranda would be very pleased.
Rothbart patted the prince on the shoulder. “I am happy for you. Though that does not explain why you need my beans.”
“I’m getting to that. You see, it turns out that this princess is being held captive by a terrible sorcerer. He has her under the dreaded swan curse.”
