His eyes took on a speculative gleam.
She ignored the uneasy sensation that slipped through her blood and gave a fake sigh. “I didn"t mean to take a trip this far from home. Bye,” she said quickly, then transported. Only this time she went home to do her duty, whatever that would entail. She knew he couldn"t follow her there. At least he couldn"t transport inside her castle, or reach her bedchambers.
She headed down the corridor to see what horrible task her mother wished her to do. So much for wanting a day of danger and adventure. It seemed she needed her cousins or brother if she was going to get herself into real trouble.
Maybe later, she"d try this again, without a hawk fae—who was on vacation—tracking her down.
Chapter 3
Quickly, albeit reluctantly, Ritasia joined her mother in the throne room, a fire blazing at the hearth, though a chill still permeated the air and her mother"s look made the room that much chillier. She was standing stiffly in front of her gold throne, which was never a good sign. If the queen sat down, she might still be tense, but when she stood, whatever she had to say was vitally important to her. Standing gave her more power to her speech before her minions. Right now, Ritasia was as much a minion as anyone else in the lion fae kingdom. “Where have you been? I summoned you over an hour ago.” Queen Irenis waved her hand dismissively, not really wanting to hear Ritasia"s excuse. “After one of our fae tried to steal an artifact from the ancient digs at Calus, who remains in the dungeon, you will serve as my representative at the site. Deveron has enough on his plate to manage.”
So this was what her mother had come up with. Deveron might have had enough to do already, but Ritasia was certain he wouldn"t have wanted this assignment. There was no changing her mother"s mind in this. Once her mother gave an assignment to one of her royal offspring, she was determined to see it through.
But what female royal fae would be in the least bit interested in mucking about in the dry dusty dirt, or when it rained, the wet muddy dirt, looking for old stuff that didn"t matter one iota?
So some ancient Denkar fae queen wore an ivory comb encrusted with emeralds in her long hair. So what?
She wondered if this had more to do with her getting into a spat with the unseelie fae.
“Couldn"t Micala or Niall have the job?” Ritasia asked, trying not to sound as irritated as she felt. “I"m sure I heard Micala say something about how fascinated he was concerning an earlier find this year. A clay pot full of very old herbs? The plants no longer in existence? Or Niall. He was really intrigued with the finding of that ancient queen"s comb.”
“Really?” Ritasia"s mother said, but the dark look in her nearly black eyes meant she didn"t believe Ritasia one little bit. Worse, she wasn"t changing her mind about what Ritasia was tasked to do.
Instead, the queen continued, “You will catalog every item or ensure the cataloguer is properly listing and annotating details about every find, and then you will sign the document, verifying its authenticity. Once the treasures have been removed from the digs to the vault, you will again verify that each item is secure in its proper place.”
Well, Ritasia supposed she could do that once a month. She didn"t believe that many relics were found on a weekly basis. This could be doable.
“You will visit the current site of excavation twice a day. I will leave it for you to decide as to the times of day.”
Ritasia barely suppressed a groan. She figured her mother would have spies reporting whether she showed up the two times a day, at least for a while. “But…”
“My mind is made up, Ritasia. Do this or I"ll be compelled to find you another task that you might like even less.”
Ritasia wanted to know what other task her mother might come up with, just in case she really didn"t mind it as much as this one. But she was afraid to ask, knowing her mother might add it to the other, and then she"d have to do both. She suspected this truly did have something to do with Ritasia"s mincing words with the unseelie. It was a good thing her mother didn"t know about her trying to fly somewhere else for the day.
“This will keep you out of trouble and perhaps deter some unscrupulous fae from trying to pilfer from our ancient heritage again.”
Ancient heritage? Since when did old discarded fae junk equate to something as profound as their heritage?
“You might as well run along and check on the site now. Malathon is awaiting your verification of his note-taking.”
“So, I"m supposed to check out all the sites?” Ritasia smiled faintly. “The site at Antaris?
Keleron? The caves at Omonton?”
Ritasia had only been to those three sites, though close to twenty were supposed to exist.
At least according to ancient documents.
She"d visited Antaris because her brother, Deveron, and cousins, Micala and Niall, had teased her that she would be afraid to see the site. Ghosts were reputed to plague the location, but she"d never seen them or sensed them there. All she remembered of the site was that dwellings had been carved high into cliffs, and the archeologists there hadn"t liked that she was climbing on the flimsy ladders. They figured her cousins and brother could manage well enough. Although she didn"t know what all the fuss was about. Her mother had once said she was more like a mountain goat than a princess when she"d caught Ritasia climbing a counter to reach a jar of sugared candy.
Ritasia had visited Keleron also. Again, goaded on by her brother and cousins because they dared she would not be able to face the draw of the partial buildings unearthed and the magnificent murals painted on marble walls within.
She remembered them as being dirty, the brilliant colors, if the colors had even been brilliant at one time, being leeched out by years of having been buried under tons of red clay.
Unless she could observe the items in their present glory, she just didn"t have the ability to see the beauty in such a thing. Old was old. And that was all there was to it.
The third visit to an archeological dig, and the absolute last, was to the underwater caves at Omonton. This one had been much more dangerous to navigate, and if her mother had known Deveron and his cousins had goaded her into visiting the cave, they would have all been in really big trouble. Even the fae who were digging there at the time looked horrified to see so many of the royals appear there when it had been deemed strictly off-limits to all but the cavers and archeologists who knew what they were doing.
Even so, several of the professional archeologists and cavers had died over the years excavating the site as the sea was known to fill the cave without warning, trapping and drowning the unsuspecting.
Still, Ritasia had not needed as much of a prod to check out this dig. Whatever was forbidden fascinated her much more. Such was the way of the fae.
But the site had been like all the rest. Old stone carvings, stone pillars and engravings, all that indicated some ancient fae civilization had long ago lived here.
The sea hadn"t even risen to make the trek more interesting. A wasted day, as far as she had been concerned.
She had never been interested in old stuff, the digging fervently in the dirt for what?
Some hint of the past life some fae had lived? Who cared?
“No, not any of the sites you mentioned.” Her mother gave her a sly look. “You will only be at Calus because it is the most active of the digs and has proven to carry some nice artifacts. I don"t want to see any of them come up missing.”
They were already missing, for goddess sakes. What difference would a few more centuries make?
No matter how Ritasia tried to view the search for relics, she could not understand how important any of this could be. “Are…you looking for anything in particular, my lady mother?”
Ritasia asked.
She had only asked, trying to figure out why her mother was even vaguely interested in the sites. Her mother responded in the negative so quickly Ritasia suspected she was indeed searching for something special. Valuable? Or something more than valuable?
&nbs
p; Now this was much more intriguing! Would Malathon know what her mother was searching for? If the cataloger did not know, then would one of the archeologists?
Was that the reason the finding of the ancient queen"s comb was so important? Because she had once held some treasure and now her mother wanted it?
If that was so, what was the treasure?
Ritasia stiffened and put on her best serious face, trying not to look intrigued. “I will do as you bid, and must be off now before too much more of the day passes.”
“Aye. Twice a day, mind you.” Then her mother dismissed her and Ritasia hurried off to change before she went to Calus, wanting to learn just what her mother wished to find at the dig and how important the item really was.
***
Today when Ritasia reached Calus, which was nearer the sphinx fae major kingdom than the lion fae kingdom—although since the sphinx were the most acquiescent of the fae kingdoms, the Denkar had laid claim to the dig—a cool mist cloaked the area in a blanket of white, the first day it had not been sunny in the two weeks since she"d been coming here.
She loved the mist that made the whole area look surreal, fae-like, the fir trees at the edge of the dig a misty blue-green, their limbs heavy with dew and in another direction, the ocean, though she could not see it this day. But she loved the sound of it as the waves crashed against the cliffs and rocky shore, the way it dragged tiny pebbles out and tossed them back again, making them smooth as glass. The way it was so secretly hidden from view while it continued to lure the visitor with its compelling draw. She loved the wet clean smell of the air.
She gathered the mist about her, cloaked herself in it, disappearing as if she was part of the mist, thinking how the earth here was very much like it, blanketing the area so that the viewer could not see what was just located a few feet beneath it. Then she pushed away the mist and sighed. She had a job to do, as disagreeable as it was.
She glanced around at the site.
The excavated red clay had been torn away as if a wind devil had been used on the site, whipping away the earth, leaving cuts intrusively deep in some areas, shallower where ancient stone floors or pillars were laid bare. It seemed irreverent to poke and prod the area where another fae kingdom had once flourished. Almost disrespectful, like overturning headstones in a cemetery and digging around to see who lay beneath the ground.
Ritasia thought of the winged fae, Princess Serena, and how she could probably call on her wind elemental powers and forgo shovels and soft brushes to locate the valuable artifacts. Or at least those that Ritasia"s mother deemed valuable.
Ritasia glanced around at the pillars, some rising twenty feet or more, some in pieces strewn all over the ground like fallen giants. She"d heard the men commenting low to each other about how they thought a warlock or a group of warlocks had laid siege to the kingdom long ago.
But they needed proof that it hadn"t been just some fate of nature, which brought the kingdom tumbling to its knees.
Several ancient sites were known to exist in the dark fae realm of the Denkar, but no one knew what had happened to the ancient fae civilizations or why they had all vanished. Although some suspected it had to do with the fight between fae that had broken the courts into the unseelie and seelie, their kingdoms forever separated by a protective invisible barrier.
Nothing in the excavations had yielded anything of interest to Ritasia. Not the unique baubles or invaluable gems, or the moldy, dusty leather-bound books of some ancient era, filled with writing no one could decipher. Not that she didn"t have things she had loved since the time when she was little that she treasured as much as she was sure the fae living in these sites had once cherished their own simple treasures. But when she was gone, she was certain her possessions would interest no one, but curious archeologists in some distant future.
The way they would feel about her old things would not be the same as she did. Wasn"t it true that the memories connected with the item was what made it so special? Not the object itself, particularly. So future finders would not know the memories associated with such an item.
Four men were gingerly digging in one area of the site, and she walked over to join them.
The air was heavy with chilly moisture. Only torchlight highlighted the thick mist, though a ray of sun was attempting to break through some of it. She stared at the ground coated in a layer of wet dirt just like she figured it would be. Everything was light orange-red, the sides of the excavation, the pillars, the ground. Nearby, six pillars lay on their side in the red clay. A grouping of four of them stood beyond them like vigilant soldiers watching over the ancient castle that once stood here, somehow withstanding the shifting earth, or whatever else had forced them to fall.
She followed Malathon around as he catalogued some of the items. He was garbed in brown robes because he was a scholarly type. In fact, all the archaeologists here were.
She, on the other hand, wore leggings that were great for climbing over fallen pillars and into excavated pits. The tunic was form-fitting enough so that the garment wouldn"t catch on jagged rocks or timber. Her dark hair was still coiled about her head and tucked under a dusty hat that was half hiding her face. The hat looked like one of those Australian outback kinds with ties to keep it snug while the chilly breeze blew across the dig site. Even her brown leather boots were covered in a couple of layers of wet red dust.
She didn"t mind getting dirty, if it was for a good cause. But this? This was a total waste of time.
For two weeks, she had returned to the site for her obligatory two visits per day. Today, again, she"d needled Malathon about whatever Mother wished to find, but if he knew, he wouldn"t tell Ritasia. Malathon stroked his short blond beard as he observed one of the men brushing off a…
Ritasia drew closer. Arm bone? Yuck.
She hadn"t thought they"d begin to find body parts. How gross! So much for discovering treasure that her mother thought would be really important. She moved away from the site and cast a glance in the direction of the forest. She swore a glint of something caught a ray of sunlight that spilled through the clouds and mist.
She stared at the forest where she was sure she saw something shiny, unnatural in the cloak of green woods—a tiny shaft of sunlight on metal. She thought.
“Princess!” Malathon snapped, drawing her attention. “Stay close.”
She looked sharply at him, surprised at the warning in his voice. She wasn"t that far from the dig. Had he seen something in the forest that had worried him?
“Did you see anything in the woods?” she asked.
“Trees. Just don"t wander off.”
She stared again at the shadowed trees, thinking one of the shadows moved, but then she was certain her eyes were playing tricks on her. But she couldn"t budge from the spot as she waited for anything—another movement other than the heavy fir branches waving in the cold twisting breeze, to see if there truly was something that wasn"t tree-like, moving through the forest.
She"d been warned time and again that the dragon fae, Duke Tully, would materialize just about anywhere with his band of merry hostage takers and grab royals as he made a living at receiving ransoms for high-ranking persons, as long as the ruling monarch wished the ranked person returned. She wondered what the duke would do if he took a hostage and no one wished to pay a ransom.
He was considered to be a Robin Hood of sorts, taking from the rich and giving to the poor. Although from what she understood, he never took a dragon fae royal hostage. It wouldn"t do to anger his own king. And he kept enough of his ransoms for himself to make a decent wage.
It was said that those who were poor, if they spied him in their neck of the woods, didn"t report him either, most likely believing he might share his treasure with them as well.
Even those faced with being taken hostage had to admire the man"s crass and cunning. If they could avoid being captured, they would do whatever it took. But he was said to treat his hostages in the most hospitable way and so though the rulers of
the region wished to incarcerate him in the dankest dungeon, none wished to end his life—permanently.
She"d heard tales he was a handsome man, well-liked by everyone from the men who rode with him, to those he captured, and she wished she could meet him in person. Not to be his prisoner, of course. But to see if all the stories she"d heard were true, or if they were just tales that had been embellished to lead the listener on.
She even wondered if he ever fell in love with a high-ranked female, as he was as just about as highly ranked as they come, if he would give up his hostage-taking pursuits. Or would the lady be like him? And help him in his cause?
Such were the thoughts swirling through her brain when she saw a glint of a sword. It wasn"t her imagination. A man was watching them—or maybe her alone—from the distant woods.
In an instant, one of the palace guards appeared next to her and quickly said, “"Tis time to return to the castle.”
That"s when she noted one of the archeologists had vanished, then he suddenly reappeared, looking steadily at her, his expression stern.
“Yes, go, Princess Ritasia,” Malathon said. “You can return later in the day.”
Before she could respond, an army of a dozen castle guards appeared and headed straight for the woods.
Malathon had seen someone in the woods, but hadn"t wished to alarm her. Yet he must have believed if she remained here while he sent one of his men back for a castle guard and more men to track him, the villain would continue to skulk in the woods, watching her. Waiting for a chance to grab her.
She didn"t want to go now. More than anything, she wanted to follow the guards into the woods and see if they captured whoever had been lurking there.
“I will stay until the men return.” She folded her arms and looked as imperious as any princess could look who wished her way in some matter.
“But Princess…”
She frowned at Malathon. “My mother wished me here. Whosoever it is would not be so foolhardy to come this way, not when he is being chased by dark fae knights.”