Page 7 of Fae-King It (Mystical Matchmakers #5)

CHAPTER SIX

Ronan was silent the rest of the week. Dominique didn’t see him again, though she occasionally felt as though she was being watched. She wasn’t sure if it was him or the spies he mentioned. Either way, the sensation was disconcerting.

It also didn’t fit with the narrative he wanted to perpetuate. If they were supposed to be so in love, why was he staying away? If those spies were watching, they would report back that Ronan didn’t seem all that interested in seeing his fiancée.

He did text her several times. Most of them were about the events they would be attending over the weekend and the dress codes. The rest were questions about her life. Her likes and dislikes.

At first, she’d just answered them and left it at that, but then realized what he was doing. He wanted to give the appearance that they were happy and in love, so he was doing his research. In return, she began to ask him the same kinds of things, wanting to be prepared for the weekend. His answers surprised her on more than one occasion. As did his dry wit. She wouldn’t have admitted it aloud, but the prince was funny.

When Friday morning rolled around, Dominique felt calm and in control of herself. She didn’t have the bandwidth to maintain the level of anger and anxiety she’d felt last weekend. She needed all her focus to handle Ronan’s family and the royal court in his kingdom.

Most of those places were like a nest of vipers. Everyone slipped and slithered through corridors, carrying gossip and potentially life-ruining information back and forth.

It had been two decades since she had to watch every word she spoke and weigh every action for potential outcomes. It was exhausting, and she hated every moment of it as a child. Now, she dreaded returning to that world, whether it was for a short weekend or the next ten years, either of those time periods would be too long. An hour would be too much.

Since she woke before the sun, Dominique focused on packing. Though they only planned to stay three nights, there were parties, gatherings, and dinners to attend. Each one required an outfit change. That was the way of the fae courts. Morning outfits, day outfits, evening outfits, two cocktail ensembles, and two evening gowns were packed into her spelled carry-on. She added shoes, her jewelry case, three small glittery evening bags, and all the underwear and nightgowns she would need. Even inside her own room, she would be expected to look put together. The castle servants would share any information for a bit of extra coin. At least, that had been the way of it the last time she was in the fae realm.

The carry-on she used was one of her most prized possessions. It met all the airline requirements, but it could fit her entire wardrobe inside. A demon king had given it to her as a gift.

He had come to her in an effort to find his mate. He was over a thousand years old and was ready to succumb to The Burning if he couldn’t find his mate. The Burning was what the high demons called their version of suicide. When their existence stretched too far and too long without purpose, they began to lose reason and become a danger to themselves and others. The ritual was exactly as it sounded—the demon would make a pilgrimage to the Hellfire Sea and throw themselves into the depths. Hellfire burned so hot that their body would incinerate before it even touched the flames. It was considered the second most honorable way to end a demon’s existence. The first was to die in battle, but demons were incredibly hard to kill, which led to the creation of The Burning.

Despite all that Dominique had heard about demons, especially the kings, he was a kind male…in his own way. He could be violent, yes, but he yearned to have a female to treasure as his own. He swore that anyone he took as his mate would be treated as a true queen, never harmed by his hand, and protected at all costs by him and the demons in his legion.

Dominique had done everything she could, using her magic in ways she hadn’t before, and she’d managed to find his human mate. She even helped the demon king figure out how to explain who and what he was to the human woman.

It had been a delicate process, but now they were happily mated and living in the demon realm. King Leonidas showered Dominique with gifts to express his gratitude. The spelled carry-on was only one of them.

Another was the bottle of starfire she kept in the safe in her closet. Starfire was rare and harvested in the depths of the demon realm. Obtaining it was dangerous, even for demons. It was coveted by the magical beings in all the realms. Starfire could heal mortal wounds in any being, grant the person ingesting it immortality with the correct spell, and reverse aging in ancient fae.

Because it was so difficult to find, dangerous to harvest, and fiercely guarded by the demons, it was priceless to the fae and other magic users. Usually only one or two bottles a decade left the demon kingdom, and almost always as gifts. Anyone who tried to steal starfire was killed outright and usually in a creative and immensely painful way.

Remembering King Leonidas reminded Dominique why she’d opened Mystical Matchmakers. As a young fae woman, she’d been taught to avoid certain supernatural species, warned that they were dangerous, stupid, or undesirable in some other way. That was why she accepted any supernatural being who applied, no matter their species. Only those who proved to be dishonest or truly dangerous were turned away.

Feeling somewhat calmer after she finished packing and reminiscing, Dominique was sitting on the couch, Oscar in her lap, when Ronan knocked on her door. Before she could get up and answer it, it swung open. She lifted a brow at him but kept petting Oscar, whose purr sounded more like a chainsaw.

“Where did you get a key to my townhouse?” she asked.

“I didn’t.” Small black tendrils of magic unfurled from his fingertips, giving her a clue of how he’d picked her locks.

She stared at him, her expression icy. “Do not let yourself in again.”

He smirked at her, which made her fingers itch for something to throw at him. The only thing within reach besides the pillow on the couch was her cat, and she wasn’t going to throw Oscar at the ass. She wasn’t going to hurt her furbaby just for a chance to see him clawing at Ronan’s face.

“Soon, it won’t matter because we’ll be living together.”

It took all her willpower to hold back her scowl. Dominique ran her hand over Oscar’s back one last time, leaning down to press a kiss on the top of his head. Gently, she set him on the floor, and, to her irritation, the little traitor immediately ran over to Ronan, still purring loudly.

The male crouched and gave Oscar scratches. “Will he be okay this weekend?” he asked.

Refusing to be touched that Ronan showed concern for her pet, Dominique got to her feet. “Yes. My neighbor will take him.”

“Neighbor?” he asked.

She gestured to the wall she shared with her neighbor. “Aksel always watches Oscar for me when I’m traveling for work. They get along well, especially since Aksel likes to feed him too many treats. He’ll come pick Oscar up after he gets off work this afternoon.”

“The Frostgiant takes care of Oscar?”

Dominique didn’t bother to ask how Ronan knew what sort of supernatural being Aksel was. The man knew far too much about her and her life. “Yes.”

“I didn’t realize the two of you were friendly.”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” she asked. “We share a wall. I water his plants and take care of his mail when he’s out of town as well.”

Ronan studied her. “Will Aksel be upset that you’re engaged?”

“Of course not. Like everyone else, he’ll assume it’s a happy event.”

His face was shuttered, as though he didn’t quite believe her, but Dominique couldn’t bring herself to care. He’d forced her into this, so his thoughts and feelings didn’t matter a single whit to her.

“Are you ready to leave?” she asked.

“Yes. Where are your bags?”

Dominique gestured to her small suitcase. “That is my only bag.” She’d decided to leave her laptop at home this weekend. Even if she had time to work, she didn’t trust that someone wouldn’t sneak into her room and try to look at her files.

Ronan looked at her in disbelief. “I thought you said you had all the clothes you needed for this weekend.”

“I do.”

“Did you pack them?” he asked, his tone sarcastic.

“I did,” she replied, her words equally dry.

“Okay.” He drawled the word as though he didn’t believe her and picked up her bag. He grunted when he did. “Heavier than it looks,” he muttered.

Dominique checked the lock on the back door one last time and followed Ronan out her front door with one last scratch on Oscar’s head. As she locked the deadbolt, he carried her bag downstairs.

When she emerged from the front door of the apartment building, she stopped short. She expected a sleek sports car or a boxy, expensive SUV. Instead, he drove a big, blacked out, crew cab pickup truck. The wheels were even black, and it was lifted high off the ground. So high that Dominique needed to use the step attached to the side, even though she was an inch over six feet tall in her heels.

Whenever she slid inside, though, she found the luxury she expected. The seats were leather and, according to the buttons on the center dash, could heat, cool, and massage the occupant. Like the outside, all the accessories within were blacked out, not an inch of shiny silver in sight.

Dominique settled into the passenger seat and buckled her seat belt. “Nice truck,” she said.

“Thanks.”

Without another word, Ronan put the truck in reverse and took off. He drove with his left hand on the wheel and his right elbow resting on the armrest between them. The short sleeve T-shirt he wore left his arms bare and she could see the crescent moon on his wrist. He hadn’t covered it since that day in her office, but Dominique wasn’t sure what the gesture meant. Did he want to remind her of her mistake? Did he want people to think that he was proud they shared such a mark? Was there another more nefarious reason? The thoughts racing through her mind nearly made her dizzy.

His driving didn’t help matters. He drove fast. Too fast. Dominique tried to ignore the scenery flashing by at an alarming speed, but it was difficult. To distract herself, she asked, “What else should I know about your parents and your sister?”

Ronan had given her the basics about his family, but nothing more than facts like their ages, what types of magic they carried, and their general physical description.

“What do you mean?”

“Any traps or minefields I need to be aware of?”

He shot her a sideways glance. “Why didn’t you ask me before today?”

“Because you said your parents had spies everywhere, and I wasn’t sure if that applied to spying on your phone or not. That seems like something we would have discussed before now.”

He sighed heavily. “There’s not much to tell. You’ve met them before.”

“For all of five minutes, thirty years ago,” Dominique pointed out. “I need more information.”

“Like I said—not much to tell.”

Her irritation growing, Dominique said, “You’re forcing me into this farce of an engagement and eventually a sham of a marriage. The least you can do is tell me what I need to know in order not to humiliate myself around your family.”

Her voice was calm, but her words were sharp.

Ronan shot her a cold look, taking the next exit and turning off onto a deserted road. He parked on the shoulder before he turned to face her, his handsome face set into harsh lines. Shifting forward, he closed the distance between them, putting his face close to hers.

“I can’t stand my parents. I can’t wait until they step down. Not because I want the throne. I don’t give a damn about it. But because they’re not good leaders. They don’t treat our people well. Hell, I don’t even think they care about our people. They’re selfish and cold. They find any amount of leverage or power they can, and they use without mercy until everyone bows down to them. The only person in the entire court who is worth a damn is my sister. She is the only one of us who is fit to rule and who would actually do a good job of it. And, crazy enough, she actually wants the job. Not for the power, but because the make life better for her people. Does that answer your questions or is there anything else you’d like to know?”

He hadn’t exactly answered her question, but Dominique sensed that he wasn’t going to and that she’d pushed him enough for today. “No, I’m good.”

Ronan cocked his head to the side, staring at her with intense blue eyes. “I’ve been wondering what’s beneath the surface with you, but I get it now. You’re always so calm, cool, and collected. The ice princess. It’s because there’s nothing there. Nothing deeper. You’re just a shell that walks around, breathing and talking.”

With that excruciatingly painful verbal blow, Ronan faced forward, put the truck in gear, and wheeled them around, practically throwing her against the passenger door. Dominique barely noticed. Every atom of her being was focused on not allowing herself to react. She stared hard out the window, refusing to let the tears welling in her eyes to fall. She would not give him the satisfaction of making her cry or telling him that he had no fucking clue what she’d endured in the years since they met as children.

Instead, she folded her hands in her lap and stayed silent for the rest of long ride.

The entrance to Magic was an hour and half outside Dallas and nestled in the countryside. The gated entrance led directly into Faerie, the region of Magic where the fae resided. Specifically, this gate would take them to the Southern Isle, Ronan’s kingdom. To her surprise, there was a keypad in front of the ornate wrought iron gate.

Ronan punched in a code and the gate split, slowly opening. They drove through and down a long drive, stretching at least half a mile, winding over a small hill. When they arrived on the other side, there was another gate, this one made of stone and more wrought iron.

This time, there were guards, at least six that Dominique could see. She had no doubt that there were more hidden among the trees and just on the other side of the portal.

One of the men approached, his broad shoulders square and straight. His face was all sharp angles and edges, and, when he spoke, it revealed the flash of fangs. Whatever he was, he wasn’t full fae, and it surprised her. When she’d lived in Magic, the guards were all pure bloods. Had things changed that much in the last twenty years?

“Your Highness,” the man greeted.

“Voltan.”

Though she was surprised Ronan knew the guard’s name, Dominique hid her reaction.

“Enjoy your weekend,” Voltan said, tapping the top of Ronan’s door with one hand.

The gates swung open, and Ronan pulled the car through. There was another long drive, and Dominique saw that she was right—there were a lot more guards on this side.

Eventually, they reached the parking area near another hill. There was a large, ornate door built into the side of it. The door was out of place among the tall grass and wildflowers, and it fairly crackled with magic. Ronan parked the truck and turned it off. Without even looking at her, he climbed out.

Dominique took a deep breath, calming the nerves simmering in her stomach. She knew what she was getting into. She only had to play this part for a short time. Just a few days. Then, she could get back to her regular life.

At least for a little while. Then, she would be trapped in this place for a few years.

It wasn’t forever. She had to remind herself of that.

With that thought, Dominique climbed out of the truck just in time to watch Ronan drop her bag on the gravel next to her door. He carried his duffel over one shoulder and strode off.

She rolled her eyes at his back. Between his silence on the way here and his sudden departure from the gentlemanly behavior he’d demonstrated earlier, Ronan was letting her know he was angry with her. In every way possible.

Slamming the door shut behind her, she grabbed her suitcase, sucking in a harsh breath at the heft of it. Though the magic helped some with the weight, it could still get heavy.

Thankfully, she only had to carry it from the truck to the hill, where she followed Ronan across the lot and through the door. Inside, the floors were smooth fae marble, the veins running through the pale pink surface shimmering with rose gold and magic.

Dominique hated to set the wheels of her suitcase down, but there was no way she could carry her bag to wherever her room was. Ronan must be stronger than she realized because, though he’d commented on the weight, he’d had no trouble carrying it.

Before she could take another step, a small female brownie appeared next to her, taking the handle of her bag. Another seemed to come from nowhere to take Ronan’s duffel.

“Your Highness, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Hello, Celeste,” he greeted her. “This is my fiancée, Dominique Proxa. Please put her in the Lake room.”

The brownie’s dark eyes blinked at him and then at Dominique, but she made no comment, just nodded. The two females vanished as quickly as they’d appeared, leaving Dominique to wonder if Ronan knew the names of all the castle staff he dealt with. If he did, that changed her view of him. Just a bit.

But he was still an ass.

She also wondered what the Lake room was, but she knew better than to ask. She needed to revert to her old habits. No asking questions. No speaking out of turn. In court, you only spoke when the royal family spoke to you first.

His back still to her, Ronan strode down the hallway, leaving her to follow or get left behind. With a silent sigh, Dominique started off after him, picking up her pace when he turned the corner ahead of her. She had a feeling that if she let him out of her sight, she’d be lost in the maze of castle halls and unable to find someone to help her.