Page 15

CHAPTER 15

Korven

Seraphine’s laughter lifted the weight between us, lightening the air from my jest which really wasn’t much of a jest at all, due to the blindingly truthful fact that her dress was indeed incorrigibly hideous.

“What do you have against all these bows, and lace, and layers?”

A playful grin lifted along her mouth and her tone was coy, flirtatious even. Good. She’d been feeling the heavy burden of our task and falling to it by the end of that last bachelor. I needed her spirits up. I needed her here with me so we could find this...this...

Asshole.

If she was returning more of herself to flesh and bone, we must be getting even closer, which angered me because all of these pricks didn’t deserve a woman like Seraphine Dupont.

“I have many transgressions against such a dress,” I started. “First, of all,”—I stepped back, the movement revealing the new ten inches of silk circling her legs—“this color. White does not suit you, Phinie darling.”

She laughed, all signs of her quiet lamenting gone. “Are you calling me a soiled woman?”

“I would never,” I teased. “But you cannot wear this color. You belong in soft hues. Pale pinks,”—I reached out as if to touch her golden hair, the color of wheat after harvest—“lavender, and creams.”

“I didn’t know you were paying close attention,” she breathed.

There it was again. That strike against me, hitting me somewhere across the chest, forcing me to feel what I couldn’t afford to feel.

“Surprised?” I murmured.

“Yes,” she replied quickly. Her hazy violet eyes flicked across my form. “You should know, I didn’t choose this dress. It was chosen for me, same as my betrothed, my future, and my curse. And now I’m forced to wear it. Perhaps for eternity if we can’t find him and I d?—”

“Don’t.” I cut her off. “Don’t finish that word. You won’t. We’ll find him. We’re getting close.”

“It doesn’t feel like we are.”

I bent low, on my knees before her for the second time in two days. I rubbed the pads of my fingers on the layers of white fabric, reminding her, “This proves we are. Fiola said you’d return. This must be what she meant, the crafty old hag.”

“Don’t call her that.”

“Why not?”

“She took care of me. All my life, she was the closest I had to a parent.”

“She took care of you like my mother took care of me?”

Her shoulders slumped.

“May I?” I lifted some of the hem of her dress.

Nodding, she sat on the window seat, visibly gulping as I patted my knee. The excitement that coursed through me as I lifted her gown was…annoying. And evident in the way my wings spread swiftly across my back, always the most dramatic part of me.

Except for maybe one other.

There was her leg, long and beautiful, creamy and soft, easily a part of a woman that could bring me to my knees. And that’s just where I was.

Her intake of breath cut sharp and sexy—exactly what I wanted to hear as I touched the skin of her knee, cupping the back and smoothing my thumb over the curve. I couldn’t look at her. If I looked at her, she’d read into my face, and I couldn’t let her see the desire I felt I’d successfully hidden for days. “This is fascinating.” I cleared my throat so it didn’t sound so Goddessdamned rough. “I’ve never seen a curse and a Goddess’s blessing fight like this. More of you will come. We’ll be ready when it does.”

I wrapped my hand around her ankle and placed her foot back on the floor. In haste, I rose, not daring to look back as I made my way across the room and settled into my seat. I picked up the list of names, pretending to read them over and adjusting myself hardening right there in that room where Seraphine Dupont returned in the flesh piece-by-perfect-fucking-piece.

My eyes skimmed over the names of the absolute idiots we had met over the last two days. Each one was nothing compared to her. How could any of these men love her? Even the three she forced me to keep in mind were nothing more than simple men whose lives were meaningless. I couldn't see anything remotely special about any of them, and I sat there, irritated that she had.

She joined me a few minutes later and without catching her eyes, I lifted the blanket back over her chair, hiding that a partial princess was in the room.

When I called in the next bachelor, the air stilled. I felt it. Goddessdamn him, I saw it too in the way Seraphine shifted slightly—almost imperceptibly—but my Ravenfae senses didn’t lie.

“Duke Arthur of...” I glared at the parchment. I hadn’t read it carefully enough this morning.

“Of Riche, Your Highness,” the bastard finished for me.

For fuck’s sake, he was from Seraphine’s homeland. Tall, muscular, golden hair that curled slightly and bright blue eyes. A white scar lined his face from eyebrow to jaw. I turned my head, studying Seraphine’s reaction intently, suddenly filled with an unbidden jealousy I barely understood. Her violet eyes looked him over thoroughly. But her lips did not form a smile. There was that, at least.

I cleared my throat, returning to my task—more than ever determined to get him out of this room as soon as possible. My first question wasn’t a question at all, but an irritated command. “Tell me about yourself.”

He smiled— the prick —and began to speak freely in a rich tenor that swept through the room. “You know my title and where I’m from, Prince Korven, but I admit,”—he laughed, sliding his hands into his pockets—“I do not know exactly what I’m doing here. I only just arrived in Havenshire last week to attend the marriage of Prince Urik and Princess Seraphine.”

The princess in question froze.

“And did you attend the marriage?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, no. My mother took ill the night before, and I needed to tend to her care. We brought very few of our staff with us and she needed me, so…” He took an unprompted step forward. “My apologies if I’m misunderstanding, but may I inquire as to what these interviews are regarding? No one in this club seems to know.”

Ignoring his question, I continued, “What was the last book you read?”

Amusement crossed his features and Seraphine sat straighter to listen.

“I brought several with me.” He pulled a small cloth bound book from his inner pocket and set it on the table—again, unprompted. “I most often read books of adventure. Occasionally the sciences. Faekind history is always intriguing.” He tapped the cover of the worn book, obviously beloved. “But this one I keep here. With me at all times.”

“What is it?” Seraphine whispered without the slightest movement.

I didn’t ask her question. I just stared at the man. Seraphine smacked my foot under the table with hers.

“What is this book you so conveniently keep in your jacket pocket?” I was on to him. A duke of her kingdom just happened to waltz in carrying a book around? I admitted he was handsome. Too handsome. Men like that grew up with an air of arrogance and a long list of women who had occupied their beds. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t fucking like him.

“It’s an old story. My favorite. You may know it—Cursed Goddess of the Veil.”

Fuck. This. Duke.

Seraphine gasped beside me. It was too perfect. Far too perfect for me to believe any of it. Because though we’d been forced together only days ago, I wanted to protect her. Was it guilt from the curse I had delivered? Was it simply curiosity as to how this would end? I knew that wasn’t it. I felt both of those things, but stronger than anything was this need to protect the girl I had met so many years ago in the cool air of spring, in a short moment of my life span I wouldn’t forget for the next fifteen years.

The duke observed my face and a smile crept across his mouth, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling. “You know it, then,” he added.

“Of course, I know it,” I snapped. “We both know which Goddess it’s about.”

My mother. My mother’s story. Parts of the tale were true. She’d never told me which parts, though. But there was something more disturbing about the book in front of us than that it depicted some of the downfall of the Ravenfae Goddess Reshina; the book was Seraphine’s favorite. She had read it to me that spring under that sycamore tree, and the fact that he kept it in his fucking pocket?—

“Ask him a detail about the story,” she demanded.

Good. She was on to him, too.

“In this book, what does the Goddess of the Veil request as payment for her fate?” His face paled and his eyes narrowed. In his pause, I didn't give him much time to respond. “Well? You keep it in your pocket, so I assume you’ve read it multiple times.” A merciless grin lifted my lips. I had him.

“A rose,” he said quickly.

Fuck.

I turned to Phinie, desperate to see that she wasn’t falling for this swindler.

She cleared her throat. “Keep his name. Let’s move on.”

Nodding, I hesitantly circled his name. I wasn’t drawing a Goddessdamn heart next to it.

“Are we alone?” the duke all but whispered.

“What?” I jabbed, tossing the quill on the table.

“She’s here, isn't she?”

Before I could stop him, he pulled the blanket trailing on the floor under the desk, revealing over twelve inches of Seraphine. I heard the squeak of her chair as she rose, but missed anything she did next.

I shifted into a raven over the table, turning back to Ravenfae in a matter of seconds, pinning the duke against the door. Hand around his throat, my fist met his gut and his breath left his lungs. “You are young, Duke of Riche,” I purred above his marred face. “I would think you’d like to experience more of your pathetic life.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, without even a hint of concern.

“I don’t doubt it,” I squeezed his throat and his face began to turn a mottled crimson, matching the door behind him. He didn’t budge. He didn’t grovel. Instead, his eyes darted to where Seraphine stood.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he choked. “I acted rashly. It won’t happen again.”

“I know it won’t,” I said for her. “If you do anything so stupid again, that mistake will be your last.”

“Korven.”

I turned at her call. Her arms were folded at her chest with a scowl across her face as I practically murdered the one man we’d met who had said all the right things so far. I shoved him back against the door and returned to my chair, shifting from faekind to raven and back again just to remind him of my power.

The duke adjusted his jacket, stepping up to the table and taking his book. “I apologize again, Princess Seraphine. It was not my intent to hurt you in any capacity.” He tucked the book into his pocket and swept back the strands of hair that had fallen loose. “I will go.”

I took up my knitting, furious, needing to occupy my hands before they found themselves in places they shouldn’t.

“Make him stay. I have more questions,” she commanded.

“What?” I growled.

“I want to know how he guessed.”

“No.”

“Korven.”

“Can you hear her?” Arthur asked, his eyes darting to where Seraphine was sitting.

I gritted my teeth. “I can see her too, you fucking piece of shi?—”

“ Korven .” Maybe she didn’t want to be called princess, but she could command like one.

“Please,” he begged, “forgive me. I didn’t know.”

I continued looping spun yarn across the clack of my needles. My nail beds pressed white in my fury. Seraphine laid her ghostly hand on my arm, tapping the edge of my boot once with her foot.

I breathed in and out through my nose, setting my needles down. She kept her hand on my arm as I folded mine on the table. “If you tell a single soul what you discovered here today, you will not live for long after.”

He nodded. “I won’t say a word.”

“If I hear one rumor, one whisper of this, I know who to find and whose throat to slit.”

“Seraphine,” he said, ignoring my threat. “You’ve been cursed. I’ve heard...around that you collapsed on the night of your wedding and you reside in Castle Havenshire. But you’re here, now, looking for someone. Will you tell me why?”

“You don’t get to ask the questions,” I bit.

“Tell him,” she replied.

“You trust too easily, Phinie.”

“You don’t trust enough to end this. Tell him... please .”

Fuck if my chest didn’t ache from her ask. “Seraphine would like me to tell you what we are looking for, Duke of Riche .”

He smiled at the space where she sat.

I ground my teeth before explaining. “The Princess Seraphine of Riche must be kissed to break her curse and live.”

He frowned, bemused. “Why hasn’t Prince Urik done so?”

“It’s not just any kiss she needs, obviously. It must come from the one who loves her most.”

His face fell and he addressed her again. “You have no one in your life to kiss you as such?”

Phinie shook her head and I mimicked the movement. I placed my hand over where hers rested on my arm. It was cold there in the space her spirit occupied, but she smiled at me in return.

Arthur cleared his throat and continued his questions. “And you’re trying to find this...gentleman? The one who can love you most? This seems like an impossible task.”

I huffed a laugh. “In current company, yes.”

Ignoring my jab, she said, “Ask if he’ll meet us again. Tomorrow.”

“I don’t think we should,” I said in return, glaring his way.

“There’s something to him, Korven. He feels connected to this and he’s the best we have.”

I lifted my hand, gesturing. “ This ? This is the best we’ve got?”

Her nostrils flared and she took her hand away. “I’m the one who gets full say in this. Tell him to meet us tomorrow. Now.”

“Fine.” I took up my needles, taking a moment to count stitches before looking up at the duke who had sparked her interest far more than mine.

“Princess Seraphine would like to see more of you tomorrow. I would like you to leave.”

I felt the kick at my boot again and ignored it.

The duke blew a breath of air out of his lips, smiling at where Seraphine sat. She looked up at him with her own grin.

“Alright. I’m willing to try this. Truly, I am sorry, Princess. Sorry for my actions just now and sorry for your curse. If I can break it...” he trailed. “I will do what I can to help you. I will meet you again tomorrow. Do you have a place in mind?”

I opened my mouth to speak when both of them said, “ The library .”

Fucking bastard.

Seraphine laughed and Arthur waited for my reply.

“Fine. Noon. Go.”

He turned to the door, calling back before he left. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Princess Seraphine.”