Page 4 of A Storm in Every Heart (Enchanted Legacies #2)

ODESSA, PRESENT

“ F ifty gold coins.”

“Absolutely not!” I scoff. “It’s hardly worth five.”

“Fifty,” the shopkeeper repeats, “or I’m not selling.”

I let out a whine of frustration and have to resist the urge to stomp my foot.

I’m standing in front of a lengthy wooden counter in the middle of a cluttered shop.

The shop itself is cozy and packed to the brim with an eclectic array of treasures.

Shelves upon shelves groan under the weight of timeless antiques, vibrant fabrics, and tarnished jewelry.

Sunlight streams through the grimy shop windows, casting a warm glow that dances through the motes of dust suspended in the air.

In contrast with the warm atmosphere, the shopkeeper seems carved from ice.

The austere Fae male stands on the opposite side of the counter, glowering at me. Just above his head, a miniature ship inside a green glass bottle sits upon a shelf, tantalizingly out of reach. It’s barely worth five gold on its best day, but to me it’s nearly priceless.

“Ten gold,” I offer almost desperately. “That’s twice what anyone else will pay.”

The shopkeeper looks down his long nose at me, his expression apathetic. “Don’t act as if you don’t have hundreds of gold spilling from beneath every cushion in that mansion you live in. It’s fifty, or no deal.”

“Oh, I see what’s going on,” I bite back a humorless laugh. “You know the ship isn’t worth anything close to fifty gold, but you think you know who I am and you’re trying to extort me.”

“Sorry.” He gives me an unapologetic smirk. “It’s not every day I have the king’s sister in my shop. May as well try to recoup some of the useless taxes I’ve been paying all these years.”

He turns away, dismissing me, and I sigh, leaning against the counter in defeat.

Part of me wants to argue with him—to point out that he’s mistaken.

The taxes he’s referring to were imposed by the previous King of Vernallis and have nothing to do with my brother—but I know better than to waste my breath.

It’s been just over a year since Daemon and his soon-to-be-wife, Alix, ended the curse on Vernallis and ascended to the throne.

Since then, they’ve become popular rulers.

They haven’t charged the citizens a single cent.

More importantly, they’ve been working non-stop for months to help the kingdom recover from the century-long curse inflicted by the last king.

Unfortunately, you can’t ever please everyone. Some Fae—especially the older ones—are still wary of the new court. This shopkeeper is obviously one of those who dislike royalty on principle. I should probably take that as a sign to give up on the model ship and leave, but I can’t.

“What’s so important about a ship in a bottle anyway?” the shopkeeper asks, still with his back to me.

“I like to collect things from the human realm,” I answer shortly.

There’s far more to it than that, but I don’t need to tell the shopkeeper that the ship looks just like the one I grew up on, or that I’ve always had a weakness for beautiful things and I like the way the green glass glitters in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the shop window.

I reach into my pocket and extract a collection of treasures.

There’s a thimble, three shiny stones, a piece of blue glass that caught my eye shimmering on the road just outside this shop, and five…

ten…fifteen gold coins. I pick out the coins one by one, then return the rest of the items to my pocket.

“Fine, fifteen gold. That’s literally all I have at the moment, and three times what it’s worth. ”

The shopkeeper sneers. “Are you still here? Run along and come back with more money or don’t come back at all.”

Alright, that’s it.

My eyes narrow, and my famously quick temper sparks. Perhaps I should feel guilty about what I’m about to do, but I don’t. Here on land, and with no ill intentions, it’s a harmless trick. Anyway, the shopkeeper tried to scam me first, and all is fair in love and shopping.

I plaster on a smile, smooth out my dress, and lean over the counter, letting my long hair drape over my shoulder. “Listen,” I begin, infusing my tone with a persuasive lilt.

As expected, at the change in my tone, the shopkeeper immediately swivels around to stare at me.

His stern expression falters, and his gaze goes unfocused, flicking lazily back and forth between my eyes and my chest as if he can’t help but look.

A pink flush tinges his cheekbones and the tips of his pointed ears.

I might not have magic like the full-blooded Fae, but my mother was a siren. Thanks to her, I’ve rarely encountered a man whom I couldn’t persuade to see things my way.

“Give me the ship,” I request, still infusing my voice with the siren song. “You want to give it to me. Nothing would make you happier than to have my gratitude.”

“As you wish,” the shopkeeper says dazedly.

I smile, but before I can claim my victory, a bell tinkles behind us as the door opens.

I glance over my shoulder and my face falls.

An all too familiar figure has entered, his broad shoulders filling the entire doorway.

Our gazes collide, and I stiffen as if an icy wind has entered the shop with him. “What are you doing here?”

Kastian steps further into the shop, letting the door swing closed behind him with a thud that rattles through my bones. “I was looking for you. You’re needed back at the house.”

My eyes narrow. “And they sent you to find me? Really?”

“Something like that.”

For a moment, all thoughts of the ship in the bottle and the shopkeeper flee my mind, replaced by mingled annoyance and worry.

Everyone knows Kastian and I don’t get along, and neither Alix nor Daemon would ever send him after me unless it was an emergency.

“Is something wrong?” I demand. “Is Jett back, or?—”

Kastian puts a hand up to halt my questions. His gaze has fallen on the silent shopkeeper, and he looks startled, as if he only just noticed there’s someone else in the room. “Morning. You alright, mate?”

The shopkeeper blinks a few times, his eyes sliding in and out of focus, seemingly unable to form words. I bite back a groan. Dammit, I hate weak-willed men.

Actually, I hate pretty much all men, but the weak ones are by far the worst.

Kastian’s dark eyes narrow at me. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing! Why do they need me at the house?”

He completely ignores my question, all of his attention now focused on the swaying shopkeeper. “That doesn’t look like ‘nothing.’ It looks like you cooked him.”

Heat rises to my cheeks and I scoff. “I barely did anything. How was I supposed to know he had such a weak mind?”

Kastian’s black eyes flash, and he shakes his head, his expression somewhere between exhaustion and bemusement. “Just tell me if it’s going to wear off or if we have to do damage control.”

My eyes narrow. I don’t want anyone doing damage control for me, especially him. I bite the inside of my cheek and try to remain calm. “It’ll wear off a few minutes after I leave.”

“Good.” Kastian wraps his fingers around my upper arm and begins tugging me toward the door. “Let’s go.”

I yelp in protest. “No, wait! Just let me get my ship!”

He ignores me, his fingers tightening. I struggle, but the effort is pointless.

His majesty is the only man in Ellender who’s ever been able to ignore me.

T he day that Daemon returned from prison with a pack of criminals and a kidnapped human woman in tow was also the first time I’d seen Kastian in over a century.

Until that day, my life had been in ruin.

The curse on the kingdom of Vernallis was raging, and the court was in disarray.

Daemon had been gone for ninety long years and his absence, combined with my secret melancholy, had driven a wedge between myself and Aunt Beatrix.

I was working in the palace while she remained living at the Ashwater Estate.

Our entire small family was spread thin across the continent, and with the curse looming, I never expected to see any of them alive again.

Then, everything changed when Daemon received a pardon from the king and reappeared in Vernallis—and he wasn’t alone.

Besides Alix—the human woman he’d accidentally kidnapped who would later become his soul-bonded mate—he’d brought three friends he’d met in Dyaspora Prison: Jett, an entertaining trickster from the desert kingdom of Solistine; Fox, a strong and silent soldier from the snowy kingdom of Thermia; And Kastian, the source of all my problems for the last one hundred years.

It had been decades since I’d last seen Kastian and I’d half-convinced myself he was dead. Except, there he was, standing beside my estranged brother and wearing a Vernalli military uniform, looking at me as if we’d never met before. I was so shocked I hardly recognized him.

On that day, he looked exhausted. His curly black hair was chin-length and his usually dark complexion was ashen, like he’d seen little of the sun in decades.

Now, a year later, his hair is cut short, only slightly longer than the hint of a beard on his square jaw.

His bronze tan has returned, and he’s dressed casually with his black shirt open at the neck to reveal the edge of a large tattoo that I know extends down his right forearm.

I have to admit he looks good, but that’s the only good thing I’ll acknowledge about him.

Every moment since Kastian Stormbreaker reappeared in my life has been slow torture, and my only comfort is knowing that at every opportunity I torment him right back.

“ L et go of me!” I screech, as Kastian drags me out of the shop and onto the street.

“Fine,” he snaps, as the door to the shop swings shut behind us.

He lets go too quickly and the force of my effort to break free causes me to stagger backward a few steps. Mercifully, I don’t fall. I don’t think I could stomach the humiliation.

I straighten, smoothing my dress, and glare up at him. “You’re such an arrogant prick.”