The Fae Prince: (Fae of Ballantine) Read online

  “Then that’s what you’re going to have to do,” the doorman calmly said, “because I’m not letting you in here until I see some money in your hand.”

  He stood staring at the doorman, sucking in deep breaths of air, his vision full of red, turning his options over in his mind. The packet rustled under his shirt as his chest filled with air, and he decided that the best plan was to simply remove the bundle and show the stupid man his money.

  “I’ll be right back, and then you’ll be sorry you were so rude to me,” he said, heading back to the sidewalk with visions of his triumphant return fueling his indignance.

  Spotting an alley that would give him the privacy he needed to retrieve some money from the packet, he crossed the street and stepped into the shadows. Not even wide enough to let a wagon pass, the alley was dark and quiet, and he wasted no time unbuttoning the loose shirt he wore and pulling the bundle out. His hands shook as he tried to untie the knot that held the bag closed, and he nearly dropped it twice.

  Taking a deep breath, he tried once more, and to his relief, the knot slipped free. Plunging his hand into the bag, he felt around for the little bag of coins he’d slipped in first, relieved when his fingers felt the soft leather of the pouch. He pulled it out and held it up to the light. Pleased with his forethought, he was already planning the speech he would make when he went back to the hotel as he tied the bag shut again.

  He was just about to strap the bag back on when a movement farther down the alley caught his attention, and he froze, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. Staring down the alley, he waited, listening for what felt like hours but was only a few seconds, then shrugged it off when he heard nothing else.

  But when he turned back around, he came face to face with a man dressed all in black and holding a knife. “I’ll take that little sack,” he said, grabbing the bag.

  Colin tried to fight him, but soon felt the cold blade of the knife slice through his arm and let go. He grabbed his arm, feeling the warmth of his own blood and nearly fainted, but managed to stay on his feet and stumbled after the man who’d faded into the shadows. Standing in the darkness of the alley, his arm bleeding, it slowly sank in that most of the money was gone, all he had was the little pouch of coins he’d shoved into his pocket.

  What had seemed like a nice little nest egg among the other treasures, suddenly looked like nothing, and he sank to his knees in the street. He crawled through the alley and sat leaning up against the building, not noticing the mucky sludge that soaked into his pants like the despair that washed over him.

  The few coins would never be enough to pay for a stay at the hotel, and the one thing that would have proven his identity was gone. He dug in his pocket and took out the little pouch, dumped it into this hand, and looked at the coins, a spark of hope coming to life when he realized that there was more there than he’d remembered.

  Quickly shoving the coins back into the pouch, he stuffed them deep in his pocket and shoved himself to his feet. His arm was still oozing blood from the knife wound, but it would heal on its own in a few hours, so he tore a strip off the bottom of his shirt and clumsily wrapped it around the wound. There was nothing he could do about his torn, bloody clothes, and he was sure that there was a bit of a stench coming from around him, but both problems could be handled with the coins rattling around in his pocket.

  ***Darby***

  After seeing to the horse, and putting the wagon away, Darby headed for the farmhouse and dinner. She could hear the party at the castle faintly in the distance and felt a pang of curiosity but pushed it away as unwise. Inside, she found a pot of stew bubbling softly on the stove and a fresh loaf of bread on the table and wished again that she could feel something for Eli.

  It wasn’t the first time one of them had left the other dinner, but on this night, the gesture seemed especially poignant, and a stab of loneliness took her breath away. Even after all these years, the loss of her parents still hurt, and the pain of losing her grandmother was still fresh as it had been last winter when she’d gone to sleep and never woken again. Pushing away the grief and longing for what she could never have again, she put together her dinner and took it out onto the porch.

  Determined to enjoy the warm early summer evening, she let the sounds of the party at the castle fade to the background and instead listened to the noise of the farm around her. The animals in the barn were quiet that night, but she could hear them moving around in their pens, the chickens murmuring in the coop, and the wind that blew through the plants around her filling the air with a delightful fragrance.

  The stew in front of her forgotten, she leaned her head back and took deep gulps of the air, wishing she could capture that smell in one of her soaps or lotions. But no matter how hard she tried, it couldn’t be captured, couldn’t be bottled or packaged, only experienced on a rare night like this one. Her appetite gone, she took the food back in the house and left it in the kitchen, thinking she might eat it later.

  Grabbing her jacket and a blanket, she headed out the front door and into the darkness. She didn’t need a light to find her way to her favorite spot on the farm; the stars provided all the light she needed, the scent of each plant as she passed guiding her down the right paths. When she came to the little circle of grass in the center of her fields, she spread out the blanket and laid down.

  The grass was chilly, and she was glad for the blanket and her jacket, but as she lay there, she began to feel the warmth of the earth begin to seep into her. It filled her slowly as the fragrance of the flowers and herbs around her wafted to her on the breeze, reminding her of a night not so long ago when she’d laid in the same spot.

  That night, she’d lain in the middle of the ruined fields filled with despair, sure that she and her grandmother were not only going to starve over the winter, but that come spring, they’d be looking for a new place to live. The wildflowers that had slowly taken over her crops were glowing in the darkness around her, a silent reminder of her failure to hold onto the farm.

  She’d sobbed as their powerful aroma surrounded her, and soon the despair began to fade, replaced by a sense of calm. Surprised, she’d looked up to discover a ring of flowers around her, their white blossoms shimmering in the darkness, and the figure of her father standing over her.

  Jumping to her feet, she’d stared at him, slightly frightened at first. But the fright disappeared when he smiled at her, the same smile she remembered so clearly, and she wanted to rush over to him and throw herself into his arms.

  “I couldn’t do it, Papa,” she whispered, afraid the sound of her voice would make him disappear.

  “I know how hard you tried, my little pumpkin,” he said.

  Her heart nearly burst when she heard her pet name. “Oh, Daddy, what am I going to do? I don’t want to go work at the castle.”

  “I wish I could help you, but there are rules,” her father said. “But I can tell you this: the answer is around you. I couldn’t see it before, but now I can. Don’t be like me; open your eyes and look around you. The solution is right here.”

  When his figure began to disappear, she cried out to him, but he mouthed, “I love you,” then disappeared. She’d fallen to the ground, even more disillusioned than before, but then the scent of the flowers began to reach her again and calm descended over her, a balm to her wounded soul. Then all at once, she understood what her father was trying to tell her.

  She’d gathered up a big bunch of the flowers, letting their scent fill her, then headed back to the cabin and woke her grandmother. “Where did you get those?” her grandmother demanded when she’d seen what Darby was carrying.

  “They’re all over the fields,” she’d said. “What are they?”

  “Moon Flowers,” her grandmother had said, getting out of bed and taking the bundle from her hands. “These are the rarest flowers in Ballentine; they contain chemicals that calm and soothe.”

  Even at thirteen, she’d understood that the flowers that her grandmother held were the k
ey to her future. It hadn’t all come together at once, but that first bunch of flowers had been enough to keep them fed over the winter. Today, they were the keystone of all her products, and she’d never forget the night that her father showed her the power inside the delicate white blossom.

  Chapter Five

  ***Colin***

  Darkness had begun to fall, and Colin was still trudging down the sidewalk, although what he was walking on didn’t look much like the well-maintained paths he was used to. For hours, he’d been searching for someplace to stay for the night, and all he’d gotten were grim looks and threats to call the guards. His arm throbbed, he was dirtier than he’d ever been in his life, and he was beginning to feel desperate, terrified of the possibility he might have to spend the night outside.

  His wandering had taken him to the worst part of town, a part he’d never known existed, and for the first time, he was glad that no one knew who he was. Part of him was horrified at what he saw as he walked, but the royal inside him cringed when anyone got close to him, and he wondered what had driven these people to choose a life like this.

  When he finally came to a hotel with no doorman standing guard in front, a burst of hope sprang to life inside him, and he headed straight for the doors. Pushing his way through, he hesitated just inside the building, waiting for someone to turn him away, but was met with only silence. Spotting a man sitting behind a small reception desk, he walked over, demands already spinning through his mind, but then he looked at the man’s face and saw his disdain and decided on a different tactic.

  It took him a few seconds to find the right words and tone of voice, but he finally managed to say, “I hope you can help me. I got trampled by the crowd at the parade today, and then some men robbed me at knifepoint and took all my money except these few coins. I need a place to stay for the night and to get cleaned up.”

  The man nodded. “I’m sorry to hear about your troubles, young man, but I will need payment in advance, and then I’d be happy to help you out,” he said, his face softening.

  Colin sighed with relief, then turned away from the man and pulled out a coin. “Will this be enough?” he asked, realizing that he had no idea how much a room should cost.

  The man’s eyes got big when he saw the coin, and for a second, Colin thought he was going to grab it out of his hand, but then he said, “That’s a royal coin. I can’t take that.”

  “What do you mean you can’t take it?” Colin asked, his voice rising with panic. “It’s good money, probably more than enough to pay for one of your rooms.”

  The man stared at Colin for a long time, then sighed, “I don’t know where you got that, but around here, we’re not allowed to take royal coins or spend them. That’s worthless to me unless I sell it on the black market.”

  Colin knew what the man was thinking. “I didn’t steal these; they’re mine,” he said, forgetting what he looked like right then.

  The man looked him up and down again. “Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t help you,” he said, shaking his head. “But if you’re serious about spending them, there’s a place a few blocks down where you might find someone willing to take a chance on you.”

  Ten minutes later, he was standing in front of a dilapidated hotel, the sign in front so old, the writing had worn off. He considered walking away, but it was late, he was exhausted, and his arm was throbbing, so he pushed the door open and walked in. It was almost as dark inside as it had been outside, but he was greeted by a large man who looked a lot like the man from the parade.

  “Help you, stranger?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Colin hesitated, then said, “I have some coins to sell, and someone told me this might be the place to do it.”

  “What kind of coins?” the man asked.

  “The kind that can’t normally be used around here,” Colin answered, proud of himself for his quick wit.

  “Let me see one,” the man ordered.

  Colin pulled a single coin out of his pocket and showed it to the man, whose eyes got big. “Did you steal that?”

  “No, it’s mine,” he said, looking the man right in the eyes. “I didn’t steal it.”

  The man nodded, knowing that Fae couldn’t tell an outright lie. “Follow me.”

  Colin followed the man down a dark hallway, into the bar, and across the room to a table where a very ugly man sat watching everything going on around him. He stood nervously waiting while the big man whispered in the other man’s ear, wondering if he could really be a faerie, who were rarely ugly. In the end, he decided that it didn’t matter; he needed what the man had to offer.

  When the man nodded at Colin and gestured for him to sit down across from him, he carefully sat down. “I hear you have some coins you’d like to part with,” the man said when he was settled.

  He nodded and set the coin on the table between them. “I have more where this came from,” he said, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest, trying to play it cool, even though his heart was pounding in his chest.

  The man picked up the coin and looked at it, turned it over several times, then put it in his mouth and bit down on it. Colin wanted to laugh at the sight, but kept still, knowing that he couldn’t afford to offend the man who looked like he could snap him in half. Finally, the man set the coin back down on the table and looked over at Colin.

  “If the rest of what you have are anything like this one, I do believe we might be able to come to an agreement,” the man said. “But I’ll have to see the rest before we make a deal.”

  Colin reluctantly got the pouch out of his pocket and dumped the remaining coins into his palm, then slid them onto the table. “I expect a good return on these,” he said.

  “I’ll give you fifty gold pieces for them,” the man said, sitting back in his chair.

  Colin could only stare at him. “What? That’s not nearly enough; they’re worth four times that much,” he barked.

  “That’s my offer; take it or leave it,” the man said. “And if I were you, I’d take it.”

  He didn’t like the look on the man’s face or the tone of his voice and got to his feet. “I think I’ll leave it,” he said, reaching down to sweep the coins up.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” a voice behind him said. “Just take the boss’ money and be on your way.”

  “I will not be cheated,” he said, quickly gathered the coins, and started for the door.

  But he only got a few steps before a hand with a grip like a steel vice clamped down on his arm and he was swung around. A fist connected with his face; at the same time, he felt the coins being stripped from his hand, and then there was nothing.

  ***Darby***

  Still thinking about her father and that first night with the Moon Flowers, Darby made her way back to the farmhouse. The moon had risen hours ago, and she knew that she needed to get some sleep, but her memories wouldn’t be quieted that night, and soon she was thinking about her grandmother and how much she’d loved the farm. Her favorite place to spend the day had been the drying house, which always smelled like a fresh summer day, and she’d spent her last day there sitting in her rocking chair soaking up the sun.

  As she passed the drying house, she looked over at it, almost expecting her grandmother to be sitting there waving at her like she used to do. But of course, she wasn’t there, but she did notice that the door was open just a little, as if someone had snuck in and forgotten to shut it. Suddenly wary, she grabbed a stick lying on the ground under a tree and changed direction.

  It wouldn’t be the first time she’d caught someone in the drying shed on the night of the summer ball, but it hadn’t happened for a few years. The first time had been more embarrassing for her than the Fae she’d stumbled upon; she’d been so shocked, she’d screamed and run away, but she wasn’t thirteen anymore.

  The stick gripped tightly in her hand, she approached the door expecting to hear the sounds of lovemaking, but there was only silence. She paused and listened, thinking th
at she’d been wrong, but then she heard a faint rustling followed by groaning. More than a little annoyed that her home had been invaded by errant party-goers, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  “I know you’re in here, and you’d better get out now,” she yelled, throwing on the lights.

  Silence greeted her again, and she wondered if she’d been imagining things, but just as she reached for the lights to turn them off, she heard another groan. This time, it was clearer than before and sounded more like someone in pain than in the throes of pleasure. Gripping the stick a little more tightly, she began to weave her way around the tables, ducking to avoid the bundles of drying flowers and herbs hanging from the ceiling.

  As she got closer to the back of the shed, the groaning grew louder, and she almost lost her nerve but kept going. When she finally spotted the groaning figure lying on the floor of the drying shed, she recoiled slightly and held up the stick, prepared to defend herself. But the man didn’t move, not even when she quickly stepped up and nudged him with her foot then jumped back.

  He just groaned and rolled over on his back, one arm over his head, the other cradled to his chest. She poked him with the stick again, just to be sure, then knelt next to him and looked him over. The arm he held cradled to his chest was wrapped in a filthy rag she finally recognized as the missing part of the shirt he wore, and he was covered in filth and blood. A stench rose from him that made her gag, forcing her to stand up and take a few deep breaths of fresh air.

  There was no way to tell how badly he was hurt, but he had managed to get himself this far. The question was, what to do with the man now. She only had two options: clean him up and take care of him herself or call the guards. She didn’t like either choice. The last thing she needed in her life right then was a complication, and the man lying on the floor was definitely a complication.