She barely let that notion sink in when she snapped, “You will sleep on the floor!”
Creshion didn"t say anything for some time as the horse jostled her, and she finally leaned back against his chest.
“I am the crown prince of Salamain,” he said quietly, as if that made all the difference in the world to her. Which it didn"t!
“Who will sleep on the floor, and when I complete my mission, you will pay me one million in gold pieces and repair Travis"s heart,” she countered with one last defiant comment.
Then she closed her eyes, enjoyed the warmth of the prince"s and the horse"s bodies and fell asleep before she had to worry any further about the tavern and the sleeping arrangements to come.
Chapter 7
Creshion held his angel assassin tighter as Sessily fell asleep in his arms. She was beautiful, quick witted, easily riled, and he would kill anyone who made a move to take her from him at Sorrento"s Tavern. It was the safest lodging for them to stay at, yet even there, the roughest kind gathered, from spies to swindlers, and a cutthroat or two.
She would stay in the same room with him as she posed as his wife. He wouldn"t have it said she was his lover, not there. When they arrived at the castle in Salamain, that was a different story. He couldn"t have it said that he had married a lady from another fae realm without having had his uncle"s permission. It was safer to pretend Sessily was his lover.
He didn"t believe Queen Quinnette would worry about his lover. A wife, very probably.
He was already rethinking the whole assassination role Sessily would play though. When he thought he was bringing her father to his kingdom, Creshion hadn"t been worried about how her father would have planned the operation or his success. He would have succeeded or died trying.
Creshion knew Sessily was highly trained and skilled from all the cases she"d worked successfully and no one had ever tied the deaths to her. But he still was having difficulty with the notion of sending her into the cobra"s cave. The only way he wanted her to attempt this was if it was a sure thing. And that wasn"t like him at all. They had an agreement, well, not quite an agreement yet. But as far as he was concerned, she"d agreed to assassinate the queen, and the terms of the contract were still under consideration.
He was loath to admit he had to rethink his plan again.
***
They reached the tavern early that evening after making several stops to rest the horse and snack on bread and cheese that Sessily"s cook had packaged for them for the journey—
which Sessily had been incensed about because no one had tried to stop him from taking her away from her home. He had assured her it would have proven futile. Her people didn"t have the kind of magic that would have worked against him, after all.
She eyed the rustic tavern where loud boisterous male voices drifted through the open windows and door. She took a fortifying breath, waited for Creshion to dismount before he helped her down, then he quickly put his arm around her waist to steady her, and asked a boy to stable his horse. Creshion hadn"t figured she"d be this unused to traveling by horse, but when she could barely walk without wincing and letting a small gasp and moan betray her, he slipped his arm under her legs and lifted her into his arms.
She squeaked, then frowned. But then she relaxed at once. “You could have warned me.”
“If I didn"t cherish my horse so much, I would fae travel with you to my castle,” he said, then seeing some men watching him through the window, he kissed her cheek.
She gave him a disparaging look, her cheeks crimson. The color looked good on her.
He smiled and carried her inside the tavern. The noise died down to a mere lull.
Male fae and a few changelings sat at nearly every table. Every pair of male eyes looked her over. He swore she snuggled closer to him.
Creshion said to the stout innkeeper, “Room and a meal for the missus and me.”
“Aye, my lord.”
A young girl hurried with them to the stairs and led the way, a key dangling off a chain in her hand. “It"s this one at the back of the hall. Quieter for you and the lady, my lord,” the girl said. “Would you be needing a bath?” She looked at Creshion, then Sessily.
Creshion said, “Yes.”
Sessily said, “No.”
The girl gaped at the two of them.
“Bring a bath,” Creshion said again. He carried Sessily to the only chair in the room.
“When the bath is prepared, you can wash up. I"ll clean up later.”
When the girl shut the door on her departure, Sessily said to Creshion, “We are not married, and you will sleep on the floor.”
He looked down at the stubborn dark fae. “I am the crown prince of Salamain. When I"ve paid for a bed, I sleep in it.”
“Fine.” She folded her arms. “Then I will sleep on the floor.”
“As you wish.” He bowed his head, then took the key and locked her in the room.
***
Sessily stood staring at the door, not believing that Creshion would make her sleep on the floor! Well, not make her, but that he wouldn"t be gentleman enough to sleep there himself! And he better not think of bathing in the bath when she was in the same room!
She considered leaving as soon as her bathwater was brought up, but she couldn"t very well go far without her fae travel. Even stealing a horse wasn"t going to happen. She didn"t think she could ride another step, certainly not in a hurry, and she could barely walk. No one could undo another"s magic, so she wouldn"t be able to find someone who could restore her fae travel either.
Resigned to her fate for the moment, Sessily stretched out on top of the bed covers until her meal was brought up to her.
After half an hour, potato soup, brown bread, and spiced eggs were served to her, though she wrinkled her nose at the unappealing food. “No meat?”
“The gentleman said that meat makes a lady cantankerous.” The girl quickly curtseyed in the most awkward fashion. “Beg pardon. I shouldna said that. My lady.” She curtseyed again.
Sessily ground her teeth. Meat? Would make her cantankerous? She would show him what she thought of him dictating what she ate or didn"t eat.
She looked at the mug of ale and took a sniff of it. She never drank ale.
“Do you have anything else to drink?”
The girl brightened. “Aye, the green fairy , la fee verte. „Tis said drinking the absinthe induces creativity.” She looked hopeful that Sessily would choose that instead.
“No, thanks.” The “fairy drink” had been introduced to Dr. Pierre Ordinaire in 1797 in the human world by one wickedly mischievous woodland fae. The absinthe was known to be a potent alcohol and gave the drinker a drug-filled high.
Poets and artists had been inspired by the emerald green drink that mixed with water would transform into an opalescent mixture of green and white, releasing the power of the wormwood oil.
Most fae could handle the drink. Many humans under the influence of the la fee verte were truly under the power of the fae who had first started them down the path of drinking the potent liquor in the first place. Some of the artists called it their green muse, inspiring and liberating, which had no doubt delighted the fae.
The maid said, “Wine?”
“No, thanks.”
The maid shook her head and scurried off, quickly shutting the door and relocking it.
Sessily made a disgusted face at the unpalatable food and drank down the even more unappealing ale. Drinking fermented ale was not something she"d ever choose to do if she had been given the choice. It clouded the senses when she needed her wits about her at all times.
As soon as the water was carried up for a bath, she wriggled out of her clothes, groaning with every movement as every muscle was sore, and sank into the hot water, letting the rose petals and lavender float about her as she luxuriated in the feel of the silky water against her skin. The heat helped to relax her sore muscles, and between that and the despicable ale sloshing through her blood she nearly fell asleep.
Until she heard voices in the hall, feared Creshion would find her naked in the bath and scrambled out of the tub to dry off, then dressed in a clean chemise.
She was thankful that at least when Creshion had stolen her away from her castle, he had brought a bag with a couple of her gowns. But if she was to pretend she was his lover when they reached the cobra kingdom, he"d have to outfit her with new gowns.
She slipped under the covers and sank against the down mattress. She was not sleeping on the floor when there was a perfectly good bed in the room. Surely, he would rethink his stand and be gentleman enough to sleep on the floor when he found her sound asleep in the bed.
***
Creshion heartily drank his ale and ate boar stew while he sat at a table with two of his fellow cobra fae, somewhat surprised to find them here at all. Their being here made it all the more difficult to play the role he had intended with Sessily.
The one was his cousin, Duke Eaton, who had fallen in love with Lady Marguerite, the widow of Lord Davenport. The other was Prince Tarn, his twin brother, younger by six and a half minutes. Both had been rather glum while eating their evening meal, until they had spied him coming down the stairs from the guestrooms, and instantly they had perked up and given him broad smiles.
Duke Eaton began, “Who was the lady you escorted up to your room, Prince Creshion?
She didn"t appear to be your usual type.”
Creshion let out his breath in exasperation. He had hoped they had arrived at the tavern after he had carried Sessily up to the room and hadn"t seen her. He hadn"t noticed his brother or cousin in the dining room when he had first entered the tavern. But then again, it was crowded, and he had been more concerned with getting Sessily into a room before he had any trouble with the men seated at the tables.
How could he pretend to the rest of the onlookers that he was married to the woman if he couldn"t let on to his cousin and brother that he was married? But what if they had heard him tell the tavern keeper that he needed a room for him and his wife?
He groaned. His brother and cousin weren"t supposed to be here. “What are the two of you doing here?” he asked sharply.
His brother, just as dark-haired as Creshion, but with eyes more green than blue, Tarn leaned back on his bench seat. “We worried that you were taking so long in returning home, that you were having trouble with Lord Davenport. You know you shouldn"t be running around the fae kingdoms without a bodyguard, Creshion. Someone, anyone might consider either taking you hostage for ransom, or killing you to get back at our uncle for some slight or another.”
Creshion shook his head. He never traveled with a bodyguard. No one would even consider taking him hostage or killing him without paying the consequences. And he would be the victor. Although the situation with the queen had to be handled with finesse.
“So what have you learned about Lord Davenport?” Tarn asked.
His brother was the more sensitive of the two of them. He"d been worried about Eaton"s concern over Lady Marguerite, and he wanted to help set things right between them. But his brother could be a bit of a hothead.
Creshion had wanted to check into the matter himself before either his cousin or Tarn took it upon themselves to make the situation worse than it already was.
Creshion said without inflection in his voice, “Lord Davenport is dead.”
Both Tarn and Eaton stared at him. Eaton was fairer-haired, six-foot tall like Creshion and Tarn, but had an even softer-hearted temperament than Tarn. But he could be just as bull-doggedly determined when he wanted something, and when it came to Marguerite, he had real issues.
Frowning, Eaton asked, “How the devil did he die?”
“He must have had a weak heart.” Creshion shrugged and took another swallow of his ale.
Eaton and Tarn glanced at each other, their shared looks saying it all. The man didn"t have a weak heart until someone made it so.
Creshion said, “Lady Marguerite is in some distress, so I would delay seeing her to ply her with condolences for about a week, if I were you, Eaton. It would not be seemingly if you descended on her estate so quickly when you wish to pursue her again.”
Eaton nodded solemnly, then a grin split his face, and he raised his ale mug to the others and said, “To weak hearts! As long as they are not our own!”
Several in the crowded tavern laughed.
“So,” Tarn said, a thoughtful look on his face as he leaned into the heavy mahogany table. “You do not pick up ladies in a casual way, Creshion. Who is she?”
Creshion knew the topic of conversation would soon switch to one he didn"t wish to discuss.
“I"m the lady"s protector,” Creshion said nobly. “She required my services after being set upon by ruffians. I could not allow the lady to be molested in such a way.” It was true, though the ruffian proved to be only one thief who could very well have killed Sessily had Creshion not arrived on the scene.
“She is a lady,” Tarn said, thoughtfully. “From the appearance of her clothes, I thought as much. But what was a female fae doing traveling alone on such a journey when she is a lady, and where is she bound for?”
“I"m taking her to Salamain. She has agreed to accompany me to the ball.”
Tarn and Eaton again exchanged looks.
“To the ball?” Tarn said. “You know how that will appear.”
“Yes, like he is thinking of marrying the lady,” Eaton said, with a smirk on his face.
“You never bring an outsider to the ball. The ladies who wished a chance at your hand in marriage will be furious and plan retaliation against the lady.”
“It is just a ball.”
Tarn raised his brows. “The affair is never just a ball. All the women and men dress like peacocks strutting around, showing off their plumage to the ladies or gentlemen they wish to court. You know that several of the women will do anything to get your attention, Creshion.
When they see you with a stranger on your arm, feathers will fly.”
Eaton nodded sagely. “He"s right. So who is the lady, Creshion? What fae realm?”
Sessily wasn"t wearing a royal medallion that would indicate her fae heritage. He thought to say one of the less aggressive fae realms, but Tarn chuckled. “You are hesitating too long. A dragon fae? Dark fae of the hunter class?”
Both Tarn and Eaton"s expressions turned serious as Creshion still didn"t say.
“Is she of one of those fae kingdoms, Creshion?” Tarn asked, more circumspect now.
His brother or cousin would discover the truth in time, Creshion figured. He sighed.
“Dark fae, royal house of Denkar.”
Tarn let out his breath.
“Close relation to Crown Prince Deveron?” Eaton asked.
“Close enough.”
Both men"s mouths gaped.
Then Tarn smiled wickedly. “Besides being the queen"s advisor, forced on her by our uncle, you have always been a thorn in her side. She will be furious that you bring the Denkar female to the ball. I love it!”
Eaton was grinning just as broadly. “I figured it would be another one of those boring affairs where the queen would be pissed off about a servant"s sloppiness and zap him into the Nether World. But no, this will put any other happening that could occur to shame. You will be the talk…well, you and your lady friend…of the court for eons to come.”
“She is beautiful,” Tarn admitted. “A little dusty, a little worse for wear—she must not ride very often—but beautiful. She will give the ladies at the ball fits. I venture to say we might see some hairballs flying.”
Both grew silent, looked up at the stairs as if they had the same thought in mind, then grinned at Creshion.
Why did he have to leave Sessily alone while she took her bath and run into his cousin and brother while he was down here?
Tarn cleared his throat. “So, about the accommodations above stairs…”
Eaton tilted his head to the side, trying to look serious, but his eyes sparkled with fairy light, which he
couldn"t douse if he tried because he was so amused by the whole affair, Creshion figured.
Creshion folded his arms.
“We have a room upstairs,” Tarn continued, and the gleam in his eye said he was offering to share a room with Creshion.
But Creshion would not let his angel assassin sleep alone in her own room. He couldn"t be sure she wouldn"t just steal a horse—even his horse, in fact—sometime in the middle of the night and take off. Though she would be unable to fae travel until he removed his magic that had clipped her wings. And he didn"t think she could stand living with being that way for very long.
“A guardian must watch over his ward,” Creshion said very seriously.
Tarn and Eaton didn"t say anything for a minute, then both clinked their mugs of ale together. “What did I tell you?” Eaton asked Tarn. “He wouldn"t give her up no matter the offer.”
“Too much of a sacrifice,” Tarn agreed. “But what of the lady"s honor if any but us recognize who you are and who she is and know about these arrangements?”
“Her father would approve,” Creshion said, borrowing on his earlier conversation with Sessily, although it wasn"t exactly what she had agreed to. Sharing a hayloft, yes. A tavern room? No.
But wouldn"t her father have agreed had he lived that Creshion would keep his daughter safe while he was residing in the same room?
“I must take my bath,” Creshion said, rising from his chair, not realizing the way that sounded until after he had said it.
Both his brother and cousin raised their brows in unison, smiles pasted on their faces. “To protect the lady, a fae knight must be clean, by all means,” Tarn ribbed.
“Good night,” Creshion said and stalked toward the stairs. He would never live this night down. But he knew that his brother and cousin would not add to the rumors or gossip. They would only talk among themselves and have a good laugh or several.
***
Sessily had nearly drifted off to sleep in the curtained bed, feeling horribly groggy after drinking two cups of ale, though it did help to numb her sore joints some, and wished she"d only had half a cup and left it at that, when she heard the key in the lock. The squeaky doorknob turned, and the even squeakier hinges creaked as the door opened. She stiffened on the soft mattress, hoping it was just Creshion and not some blackguard who"d manage to pick the lock, hoping to steal some coin from them. Not that she wouldn"t use her fae potions on any that tried anything like that, but she was so warm and comfortable and…fuzzy-headed, she didn"t want to leave the bed for anything.