Page 4 of Obsessively Yours (Fae Kings of Eden #2)

4

FOURTEEN YEARS OLD

Roman and Violet sat with a game board between them in the Maekin’s family room, arguing over the legality of Violet’s move.

Once a week, Roman joined the Maekins for dinner. His parents insisted he, his mate, and his future in-laws get to know one another better. At first, he’d protested, claiming it would make people suspicious that one of the twins was his mate. His father pointed out he could glamour himself invisible when he slipped in and out of their home. Knowing he couldn’t get out of it, Roman had decided to try.

Vivian’s father insisted on giving her extra training now that she would have a target on her back as the future queen, and the two didn’t return home until an hour before dinner. So every week, Roman would arrive an hour before dinner to spend time with his mate before they ate.

His mother and father assured him his affection for Viv would grow if they spent more time together. It hadn’t.

What had developed was his eagerness to see Violet. She made him laugh; a stark contrast to her sister, who made him want to stuff his ears with sand to cut off her constant stream of self-importance.

Lately, he’d found himself arriving two or three hours early to hang out with Violet under the guise of getting to know his future family better. Meri gave him a curious look the first few times he’d showed up early. “I don’t want to cut into my time with Vivian,” he’d lied. “It’s important I get to know all of you.”

“You can’t move that piece,” Roman insisted. “That piece has already moved ten spaces.”

Violet looked indignant. “It has not. It moved three spaces on the first round.” She pointed at the board. “Then four spaces on the second, and three on the third.” She looked at him like he was dense. “That’s only eight spaces.”

He rolled his lips together and tried not to laugh. “That’s ten, princess. Count them again.”

Violet glared at the checkered board. “How are strategy games fun when you have to do homework to play them?”

Roman turned his head to compose himself. She might throw the board at him if she saw him smile. “A piece can only move ten spaces. That’s hardly a full sheet of homework.”

She reached across the board to thump his nose, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward. “I’ll write down every piece ten times, bind the pages with leather, and hit you with it,” Violet threatened. “We’ll see if it’s enough to be considered homework then.”

Their close proximity made Roman’s body buzz, and he dropped her wrist to lean back. Drumming his fingers on the table, he debated asking the question that’d been bugging him all day. “Are you and Theo dating?” he blurted out. Smooth .

Violet’s brows shot skyward. “Theo Bront? Why do you ask?”

Roman stared at the gameboard and grappled for an answer he didn’t know himself. Why do I care? “I noticed you sitting with him and his friends at lunch.” And laughing.

Violet pinned him with a curious stare. “Griff sat there too. Who else would I sit with?”

Me.

Griff sat on the other side of the table, while Theo and Violet sat next to each other, but Roman decided not to point that out. “I’m trying to look out for you. I don’t like Theo.”

Violet bristled and sat taller. “I can look out for myself.”

Roman leaned forward and moved Violet’s piece back in place. “It’s your move.” He gave her a stern look. “No cheating this time.”

Grumbling under her breath, Violet studied the board. “Why do you and Viv like these games? They’re hard.” She moved her piece in the worst position possible, and he dropped his head.

“My father said it helps to improve at guessing your opponent’s next move.” His father obsessed over strategies. In the history of Eden, no kingdom had battled another. They dealt with rebel attacks, but the rebels were hardly worthy opponents. Still, his father insisted they stay prepared. Roman suspected it had something to do with the Desert King. Rumors claimed the man to be cruel.

Roman’s father had always treated him as an adult. As a small child, instead of playing with others his age, he read old war books and practiced how to deliver killing blows. Junior warrior training started at age eleven, but for Roman, he started at age five, training tirelessly with his parents or their top generals for hours every day. No breaks meant no friends. There’d always been a disconnect between him and his classmates, even now.

Except with Violet.

“If I’m to be king, I have to be ready long before I take the throne.” He gestured to the board. “These games help.”

“Do you do anything for fun?” She sounded concerned, her freckled nose scrunching a bit.

“I like training.” He waved his hand over the board again. “I like strategy games and puzzles .”

“But do those things make you laugh?” she pressed. “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you laugh.”

He always wanted to laugh when they were together. “What does it matter if I laugh or not?”

A piece of hair hung limp in front of her face, and she blew it back. “Everyone should do things that make them laugh.”

His tone turned defensive. “I laugh.”

“Okay,” she replied and pointed to the board. “Your turn.”

Her tone suggested she didn’t believe him. “What do you mean, ‘ okay’ ?”

She sighed. “Everything you listed is to make you a better king, but have you ever done something just for the fun of it?”

He frowned. “I’m too old to do pointless things.”

“You’re only fourteen,” she shot back. A mischievous smile spread across her face. “I bet I can change your mind.” Leaning forward, her voice lowered to a whisper. “Do you think you could sneak out tonight?”

Roman stared at her, intrigued. “Why?”

She rubbed her hands together. “I’ve had an idea forever, but Griff refuses to help. You can help me instead.”

“Why do we have to sneak out?” Her answer didn’t matter. He’d do anything she asked.

She ignored his question. “How far can you glamour?”

He leaned forward too. His glamour wouldn’t be at full power until he turned twenty-five, but at fourteen, he could already glamour farther than adult non-royal fae. “Farther than you.”

She reached over and poked him in the shoulder. “Don’t be a showoff. Meet me at our back door at midnight.”

The front door opened, and Vivian waltzed inside. She looked at the two of them hovering over the game board and scowled. “What are you two doing?”

Roman sat back and pointed at himself. “I’m playing a game.” He turned his accusing finger on Violet. “She’s cheating.”

Violet gasped. “I was not. He’s making up rules as he goes.”

Vivian rolled her eyes. “You’ve never understood strategy games.” Roman didn’t like the condescension she directed at her sister.

He opened his mouth to defend Violet, but she spoke before he could. “If I’m stuck with you two for the rest of my life, I’d rather learn to play these games than learn to whack at people with a sword.”

“You wouldn’t be able to do that, either,” Vivian replied dismissively.

Roman started to object, but Violet stood abruptly with an air of indifference. “You’re right. I’m going to the forest for a little while. Tell Mom I’ll be back for dinner.” Roman noticed the hurt she tried to hide, and it made him furious.

Vivian took Violet’s seat across from him and rearranged the pieces on the board to start a new game. “I’m sorry about her. I know she’s annoying, but thank you for entertaining her anyway.”

Roman hated this side of Vivian. “I like hanging out with Violet,” he bit out, trying to rein in his temper. “You shouldn’t speak to her that way.”

Vivian’s fingers tightened around the game piece in her hand. “She does nothing but climb trees, pick through the sand, and worry about clothes.” She looked pointedly at the board. “She can’t even play a simple game.”

That might be true, but it didn’t make her less than. He knew fighting with this stubborn girl was a losing battle, but he couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. “And yet people still love her.” Vivian’s body went rigid. “I don’t like this side of you .”

Vivian’s icy eyes lifted to his. “What side of me?”

He met her glare with a stony expression of his own. “You act like you’re better than everyone. It’s a terrible trait to have. If you’ll treat your own sister as if she’s beneath you because she doesn’t possess qualities you admire, then how will you treat my people if you’re queen?”

Vivian’s fist tightened even more, her knuckles turning white. “You don’t know how insufferable she is behind closed doors, and my relationship with my sister is none of your business.”

Roman forced himself to let it go, even if her comment about Violet being insufferable made him want to flip the table between them. He tapped the board. “You can have first move.”

* * *

Violet stood in the darkness of their back porch with a hooded cloak pulled tightly around her. It wasn’t frigid in the Tropical Kingdom at night, but it was cool enough to need the extra layer. She checked her pocket watch. Five minutes past midnight.

Disappointment doused her excitement. Roman had never agreed to meet her, but she’d hoped. Without his royal glamour, she’d never be able to pull this off because her glamour didn’t work on other fae. Violet told herself the fact that her plans were foiled caused her disappointment, not the fact that she wouldn’t get to see Roman outside of their weekly dinners. Yes, that must be it.

Violet thought back to her predicament. There had to be a way to make her plan work. She just needed to figure it out.

Roman materialized in front of her, and she jumped a foot in the air. His hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her scream. “It’s just me.”

The beating of her heart rivaled the speed of a hummingbird in flight. He dropped his hand and smirked. “You scared me half to death,” she whisper-yelled and shooed him down the back porch stairs. “We need to be quick. Glamour us both.”

He sighed and disappeared. “Done. Are you going to tell me what we’re doing?” She’d forgotten that she wouldn’t be able to see through his glamour even though it included her. Hearing empty air talk was strange.

“We’re going to the chicken pen in the palace farm,” she told him excitedly.

“Why are we going to the chicken pen?” Roman asked right as she bumped into the air in front of her.

Violet reached blindly until she felt a hard chest. Oh my. Quickly yanking her hand away, she tried not to look flustered. “We’re borrowing a few chickens.”

“ Borrowing chickens?” His voice held an obvious note of skepticism.

“Yes.” She held out her hand, refusing to accidentally hit something she shouldn’t. “Take my hand so I know where you are.” His warm fingers wrapped around hers, and she dragged him toward the palace gates, stopping far enough away so as not to be heard by the guards. “We’re sneaking through the side gate.”

There were two entrances into the palace grounds: two large gates in the front for large groups of people, horses, and carriages, and a smaller barred door on the side for individuals on foot.

“How are we supposed to do that?” Roman sounded incredulous, and she wished she could see his face.

“You’re going to glamour the door to look closed while we walk through.”

“They’ll hear it,” he argued. “I can’t glamour sound.”

Violet dug into her pocket and pulled out a bottle of oil. “I’ll put this on the hinges, and we’ll go slow.”

He chuckled. “You’ve thought this through.” She grinned and nodded. The prince sighed. “Alright. Lead the way.”

At the gate, Violet carefully oiled the hinges, handle, and anything else she thought might make a sound, then glanced at the guard who stood sentry on the outside. As slowly as possible, Roman helped her open the gate and slip through. It was a miracle from the gods that her trick worked.

Their shoes made a slight noise as they tiptoed across the gravel and the guard looked around. Roman and Violet hurried down the path toward the palace farm, and once out of earshot, she squealed a little. “It worked!”

Roman appeared in front of her with a slight smile as he watched her hop up and down. “How are we going to borrow a few chickens? The guards will hear them when we take them through.”

Did he think she’d come unprepared? Violet dug into her other pocket and pulled out a bottle of liquid. “Night drops.”

He stared at her skirts with drawn brows before pointing at the bottle. “You’re going to drug them with a sleeping elixir?”

Violet tucked the bottle back into her pocket. “I thought you were braver than this.”

“This has nothing to do with bravery.” He waved his hand toward the farm behind them. “You’re drugging chickens and refuse to tell me why. This is insanity .”

“We’re going to leave four of them in our school room.” She dug into another pocket and pulled out twine attached to a small potato sack. “I’m going to fill this with seed. We’ll rig the door so when it opens, the bag will dump out and the chickens will rush toward our lovely teacher.”

Roman stood, stunned, but before she could plead her case, he burst out laughing. It was her turn to cover his mouth. His body shook as she pressed harder to shut him up.

“You’re going to get us caught,” she hissed. Something wet and warm rubbed against her palm, and she yanked it back. “Did you lick me?”

His handsome smile lit up his entire face. “You’re something else, Violet Maekin.”

It sounded like a compliment, and she decided to take it as such. “We need to hurry, or we’ll be out here all night.”

Luckily, no one stood guard over the animals at night, and the farmhands didn’t arrive until dawn. They snuck through the pasture gate and hurried toward the chicken area. “How are you going to keep the bag from falling when we leave?” Roman asked suddenly.

A devious grin spread across her face. “When I first had the idea, I hid a small shelf inside my desk. We’ll hang it above the door and balance the open bag of feed on it with the twine hanging in the doorway. After we close the door, we’ll cut the twine short and attach it to the top of the door, and when Miss Bonner opens it, the door will pull the twine and the bag will go with it.” She stood tall, proud of herself.

Roman laughed again, the sound warming Violet from the inside out. When they reached the gate to the chicken pen, Roman glanced at her over his shoulder. “Have you ever caught a chicken before?”

No. “Yes.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Liar.”

“Just open the door,” she snipped and playfully pushed him forward. The chicken enclosure consisted of a field of bright pink grass surrounded by a tall, netted fence with a large wooden coop at the very back.

The pink grass glowed brighter than the surrounding area thanks to the natural fertilizer. She could already imagine how pretty it would look in a flower crown.

She pushed the thought aside. They hadn’t the time for that now.

Roman held the gate open until Violet hurried through. He’s a gentleman , she thought. Unlike the other boys in school. Not that many talked to her.

They hurried toward the coop in the back, and Violet twisted her lips to the side at the sight of the wooden structure’s tiny door, barely big enough for her to wiggle through. “I’ll crawl in and chase them out one at a time,” she told Roman. “You catch them and give them one drop of the elixir.”

Roman crossed his arms and looked down at her. At fourteen years old, the prince already stood around six foot tall. “Why do I have to catch them?”

“Because you’re too big to fit through there.” Violet pointed at the chicken door. “Your shoulders would get stuck.”

He opened his mouth to object, but she held up a hand. “No arguing.” He held his hands up, but the smug look on his face raised her hackles. Deciding to ignore him, she shoved the elixir bottle into his hand. “Get the drops ready.”

Violet removed her cloak, got on her hands and knees, and crawled through the hole. With her eyes trained straight ahead, she chose to ignore the questionable substances on the ground. If she looked down, she might puke. It smells awful in here.

She stood and wiped her hands on her dress with no idea how she’d explain the stains to her mother.

Chickens stirred at the sounds of her entrance, and the air stilled as the birds took stock of the new intruder. It didn’t take long for them to erupt in a flurry of chaos. The chickens on the ground rushed at her, and those sitting in tiny hay-filled boxes ran down little ramps like soldiers on their way to war. She screamed and tried to evade them, but they were everywhere. How are there this many chickens in here?

There were a lot of ways to die, but death by pecks was not one Violet had ever considered. Would they eat her alive if she hit the ground to crawl out? She should have brought the night drops inside and dosed them all.

A large door on the side of the coop opened and Roman stood on the threshold, trying, and failing, to smother his laughter with his hand. She gasped and ran toward him. “Run! They’ve gone feral!”

He grabbed both of her shoulders, flipped her around, and held her against his chest. “They think you’re going to feed them. Watch.”

Roman reached into a sack beside the door and threw a handful of seed into the middle of the coop. The ruthless predators ran toward the food and stabbed mercilessly at the ground with their razor-sharp beaks. That could have been me down there , she thought with horror.

Her erratic breathing evened out, and Roman’s body vibrated with laughter. Violet whirled around, wondering if pushing a prince on his butt was considered treason. “Why didn’t you tell me there was a door? You left me to the mercy of those feathered beasts.” She held up her hands and motioned to her dress. “And I’m covered in dirt.”

Roman’s laughter came harder, and she glared with all her might. The temptation to force the night drops down his throat and leave him with the chickens overwhelmed her.

“I promise I would never leave you in danger,” he assured her, still laughing. “I tried to tell you about the door, but you cut me off.” He plucked at her sleeve. “And I don’t think that’s dirt, princess.” She didn’t either.

“It’s not funny.” She tried to sound fierce, but his infectious joy had her joining in. Their laughter faded, and they stared at each other with goofy grins.

Roman rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “Let’s fill your bag with feed and round up your chickens.”

Together, they chased four feathered demons outside, and when Violet tried to grab one, it launched an assault and pecked her arm. The thin sleeve of her dress ripped, and the bird’s sharp beak drew blood.

The screech that exploded from her would have been embarrassing if she wasn’t bleeding out.

“It got me!” she cried while Roman doubled over laughing. Gripping her arm, she backed away from the chicken who now strutted around like it hadn’t torn a chunk of her flesh. She lifted her hand, surveyed the damage, and wailed, “Oh gods, I’m bleeding everywhere.”

Roman’s laughter died a quick death, and he was by her side in seconds, forcing the chickens between them to scurry out of the way. “Shh,” he soothed her and turned a glare on the chicken clucking around their feet. Moving his attention back to her arm, he ripped open the fabric around her wound and, with gentle fingers, prodded the area.

Amused light brown eyes found hers, and her lips turned down. “This isn’t a joke. What if it gets infected?”

He struggled to compose himself and ran his thumb soothingly around the wound. “It’s barely a scratch.”

That couldn’t be right. Violet glanced down and her frown deepened at the thin line surrounded by a faint swipe of blood. She sniffed haughtily. “It hurt.”

Still smiling, he placed the lightest kiss over the cut. “Better?”

Violet’s mouth dried and tingles erupted where his lips touched her skin. “Yes,” she somehow managed to say.

Bending over, he scooped up one of the closest chickens and petted its head. “Grab the drops.”

The drops were made for fae children, and the concentrated formula knocked the small chickens out cold in no time. “You’re sure this won’t kill them?” Roman asked warily.

Violet stared down at the limp birds. “I asked the animal healer in town if the night drops were safe for animals. She said yes.”

“I doubt she thought you meant chickens,” Roman deadpanned.

Violet ignored him. “You take two, and I’ll take two.”

Once they had the chickens safely inside the palace walls, a feat in and of itself, they snuck upstairs to the school rooms. Roman tried the door handle. “It’s locked. How do you plan to get us inside?”

Violet gently set her chickens on the ground and dug out small tools from one of her pockets. “I’m going to break in.”

Roman muttered something under his breath about pockets and covered the keyhole with his hand. “How do you know how to pick locks?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Roman Covington.” She popped his hand to move it out of the way. “They’ll never know it was us.”

He squatted down beside her. “I didn’t take you for a criminal.”

She went to work on the lock like her uncle had shown her. He was a locksmith in town and had taught her all sorts of tricks when she was younger. He’d thought it was hilarious when she’d showed her father the new tricks she’d learned. Her father had not. “If I’m a criminal, you’re my accomplice.”

When the door opened, the two gathered their hopefully-not-dead birds and snuck inside.

After setting everything up, Roman stared warily at the chickens. “Will they wake up by morning?”

Violet pushed her hair out of her face and threw the feathered beasts a worried look of her own. “I hope so.”

* * *

The next morning, exhaustion plagued Roman’s body, but he didn’t care. He jumped out of bed and readied for school faster than he ever had before, wanting to arrive early to see the look on Ms. Bonner’s face when she opened the door.

After scarfing down breakfast in his rooms, he hurried downstairs and careened around the corner to find Violet waiting on the second-floor landing. “Has Ms. Bonner arrived yet?” he whispered in her ear from behind.

Violet gasped and whirled around. “Don’t do that! You’re going to give me a heart attack. And no, she’s not here yet.”

“I’ll glamour us, and we can wait by the door.” He cloaked them both in magic and urged Violet forward.

She turned in his direction and visibly shivered. “I hate that I can’t see you. It feels like I’m talking to myself.”

When they stopped, he reached around her and tapped the back of her shoulder. She spun around with a choked gasp, and he had to muffle his laughter. “You’re ridiculous,” she hissed, swatting at the air but missing him completely.

Roman had never had fun like he had the night before, and seeing Violet in her dirty dress, screaming as chickens chased her, had made a fondness bloom within him. He absentmindedly wondered how she’d explain to her mother why her dress sported a hole in the arm and chicken droppings.

At the reminder of her arm, he glanced down and cupped it gently. “Is your near-fatal wound okay today?”

The scratch had been small, but seeing her blood had made his own run cold. He’d fought to keep his face light and teasing, but to his surprise, all Roman had wanted to do was snap the chicken’s neck and carry her away from the others. The irrational urge should have worried him, but it didn’t. Something deep inside him liked the idea of being her protector.

Violet pulled out of his hold and lifted her chin. “It still stings.”

Roman considered her arm and tapped his finger against his pants leg. “I’ll bring you a salve this afternoon.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure my mother has something.”

To be safe, he’d send her the biggest jar he could find, whether she wanted him to or not.

Ms. Bonner crested the top of the stares, and they both held their breath as the woman pulled out her keys to unlock the classroom door. Violet’s eyes went comically wide when the bag of seed tumbled off the ledge, narrowly missing Ms. Bonner on the way down.

The older woman dropped her bag on the floor and screamed. The loud sound sent the four chickens fluttering like crazy. Feathers were everywhere, along with droppings, and Roman guessed the stench alone would shut down classes for an entire week.

“Good heavens!” their teacher shrieked and bolted back into the hallway, forcing Violet and Roman to jump out of the way.

When one chicken followed Ms. Bonner into the hall, Violet tried to flee, but Roman banded his arm around her waist to stop her, not wanting her to miss anything.

The chicken sped after the older woman, and Roman leaned down close to Violet’s ear. “Do you think he’ll catch her?”

Violet snickered and whispered back, “I hope so. She could use a good peck or two.”

Much to their dismay, two guards hurried down the hall to investigate the commotion and stepped in front of Ms. Bonner to save her from the impending assault.

One of the guards picked up the chicken, approached the school room, and cursed. “Send for a farmhand,” he instructed the other guard as he deposited the runaway chicken inside the room and shut the door. “I’ll alert a maid.”

Once both guards and Ms. Bonner were out of hearing range, Roman and Violet burst out laughing.

“Did you see her face?” Violet wheezed, her nose crinkling as she laughed.

Roman’s gaze snagged on a familiar figure over Violet’s shoulder, and he nearly groaned out loud. His mother stood down the hall watching them, but instead of the anger he expected, she appeared curious.

The queen’s eyes jumped from Violet to Roman, and when they met his, her curiosity morphed into something that looked a lot like sadness.