A sly smile came over the brunette’s face. “I think he looks like a warrior. I find him very attractive. He is the First in this group. He simply hasn’t taken his place.”
But Shim needed to get back to something else that had been said. “I’m not gentle. For the gods’ sake, woman. Don’t be calling me such names. Do you want to insult me?”
“You are gentle, Shim.” Lach had a smile back on his face.
“I bloody well am not.”
“I got to agree, Shim,” Duffy added. “The last time you killed an ogre, you didn’t even eat the heart. Soft.”
“Ogre gives me indigestion.” Shim frowned. He wasn’t soft. He fucking wasn’t. He just had trouble with his gut at times.
Kaja’s eyes went wide. “See, Meg, he got to eat the ogre.”
“No one’s eating ogres.” Dante Dellacourt put a hand on his wife’s waist. “Put it out of your mind, Kaj. And if I see you chasing the brownies, you’ll be over my lap.”
Dante Dellacourt was a celebrity in his world. Shim and Lach had spent some time on the Vampire plane. They had spent time being educated in more ways than one. They had gone to what the vampires called University, and they had been trained by their cousin, Julian, in the dark arts of Dominance and submission.
A vision of beautiful Bronwyn tied up and trussed for their pleasure crept over him.
“Don’t.” Lach leaned in, his harsh whisper pulling him out of his mind.
Sometimes having a twin who could practically read his mind was deeply irritating.
“Come along, Kaj. We need to settle into our rooms. We’re going to have dinner in a bit. Your Highnesses, I look forward to meeting with you.” He led his wife away, but Kaja turned, giving them both a smile.
Meg waved to her friend and then turned back to Shim and Lach. She pointed at the men left standing in the foyer. “Obviously, those two are my husbands. I think it’s safe to say Cian is the gentler of the two. He would never ever eat an ogre heart, but you could talk Beck into it. The vampire with them is named Simon Roan. He leads a group of mercenaries.”
“Cash-poor royal?” Shim asked. It was a good bet. Vampires weren’t the most compassionate people. When a vampire family lost its fortune, they tended to lose everything. Many committed suicide rather than move to the lower levels of their great cities, but some, like Simon Roan, found another way to replace their lost honor. They took up the sword, or in this case, most likely a whole bunch of high-tech sonic weapons.
The queen nodded. “Yes. He’s also hungry for a consort, so it’s a testament to his loyalty to your cousin that he’s not fighting for the other side. Torin’s promised the royals one hundred consorts. After a thirteen-year drought, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Vampires, the royal ones, required a consort to suspend the aging process. They did this through the act of feeding from consort blood. Gods, he wanted to taste his wife. Just like that his damn fangs came out.
Meg giggled a bit, taking another sip of her drink. “It looks like you have that trouble here, too. Why haven’t you taken a consort?”
“Because we already have a bondmate.” The words came out of Lach’s mouth sounding dismissive, but Shim knew why. He was sure the queen wouldn’t believe them either. Perhaps the queen had been right. Lach was the one with all the insecurities. But then again, he was also the half who didn’t mind a little ogre heart when the occasion called for it.
“The princess in the tower?” Queen Meg asked.
It was what they called her now. They knew her name. Had always known her name, but there were too many ears who could hear the secret. Bronwyn Finn was safer dead. Shim might be softer than his brother, but he wasn’t a fool. Even Torin the Wretched Asshole had spies.
“Julian told you. He doesn’t believe us.” Shim looked at his cousin, who was laughing at something one of the others said. Julian was ridiculously wealthy, ruthless, and intensely perverse. He fit right in with the Unseelie. And Julian had been smart enough to figure out a way to get his own consort off the closed Seelie plane. He’d been set to wed a young bondmate named Daniella when the war had occurred. Nothing so simple as a bloody civil war had ever stopped Julian Lodge. He had his bondmate, and he hadn’t blinked an eye when she’d come to him with an extra. Her servant, a young man named Quinn, had stowed away and fought to remain by her side. In true Julian Lodge fashion, he’d simply taken them both, and now everyone was happy.
Shim couldn’t find his bondmate because he couldn’t convince his father that she was still alive.
What if her brothers proved to be more reasonable?
“How old are you?” Meg asked.
“Thirty,” Shim replied.
Shrewd eyes studied them. “Well past the age of bonding. Shouldn’t you be all crazy and stuff? Beck and Ci were. Beck hid it, but I understand now how close to the edge he was. I don’t sense that from either of you.”
Lach tensed beside him. “Because we bonded thirteen years ago.”
Shim watched as Meg’s eyes registered shock, but not quite disbelief. “You bonded, but you lost her?”
“We were never physically with her. We bonded only in our minds,” Shim explained.
He was about to continue when a shout went through the hall. One of the guards ran in, his sword on his hand. “Your Majesty, the sluagh…”
The guard had to take a deep breath. It was obvious he’d run long and hard from his post.
Shim had to take a deep breath because a couple of sluagh coming to the palace wasn’t a good sign. The sluagh normally kept to their caves, feasting on the rotten things of the world.
His father sighed. “How many?”
The guard’s eyes tightened. “All of them, Your Majesty.”
Shim took the cup out of Duffy’s hand. He was going to need the courage because it looked like they were all fucked.
Chapter Two
Bron let the sunshine warm her face and the soft sound of the wheat swaying in the breeze calm her. It was nearly time for the threshing, but she had a few days of peace left. When the time came, she would work from morning ’til just after the sun went down, and then she would barely manage to eat before she passed out from exhaustion.
She would sleep too deeply to dream. She would miss them.
How could she miss two men she’d never met?
“Issy! Issy!” A high voice pierced her solitude.
Bron smiled. Even after all these years, she still was somewhat shocked to hear herself called by another name. Isolde. She’d selected it when Gillian had finally given up on finding a way off the plane. She could still see Gilly’s face, the tears streaking down as she’d told her she had to give up her name.
This plane had been hard on her foster mother.
“Issy!”
“I’m here, Ove!” There was nothing for it. The little brownie would call out for her until she found her quarry. Ove was a tenacious little thing.
The shafts of wheat moved and shuffled as the brownie ran toward her. Bron braced herself for impact.
“Found you.” Ove launched herself into Bron’s arms.
“Yes, you did.” Bron held her, enjoying the feel of her frail body. She loved the brownies. Their rough faces and scraggly hair evoked a tenderness that called her childhood back. The nannies and housemaids had almost all been brownies, working diligently for their cups of cream.
Ove was a youngling, barely past two, but brownies aged differently. She was still a child but well on her way to her own work. Still, the light of youth was in her wide black eyes. She clung to Bron for a moment. Brownies were deeply affectionate creatures when they were allowed to be. Her own nanny had carried her until she’d gotten too big, and then Flanna had stroked her hair and held her hand whenever possible. Her mother had loved the affection between them, and her father had tolerated it.