Page 11 of Royal Ransom (Princess Procedural #4)

Taliyah

“Stop scowling, Mav,” I said, following in his wake.

He was moving quickly enough to alarm the students who were streaming past us in the hall. The look on his face was sure to scare our allies away. Scarlett Velardi had graciously allowed students who wanted to resume summer classes to do so in Newark, renting out one of her gangster husband’s establishments while we figured out how to relocate Blood Rose to Haven Hollow.

The night classes and day classes weren’t gone, but they did mingle nowadays, making schedules more flexible. As I watched, a young werewolf girl scuttled to the opposite side of the hall from Mav, as if repelled by the wrong end of a magnet. It wasn’t even a thought; anyone with survival instinct was getting out of his way.

“I’ll stop when we get your brother back,” he replied tersely. “Until then, I’m going to scare the hell out of anyone who gets in my way.”

I considered handing out my mother’s cliché advice: You’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar. But I hadn’t lived my life by that mantra. I’d always caught things with a taser and a pair of handcuffs. I was a faerie policewoman, and Mav was a warlock bounty hunter. Normal rules didn’t really apply to us.

Basil Lavant was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of his desk when I arrived in his classroom on the third floor of the mansion. The last of his most recent class was filing out, shooting us odd looks over their shoulders as we stepped past them.

The room was dimly lit, with swaths of fabric covering the windows. I was sure it was gorgeous in the daytime when sunlight turned the room into an autumn-tinged wonderland. Right now, it just made it difficult to see. And it didn’t help that there were only a few candles to navigate by. Basil didn’t look up as we approached. He was resting soundly on the ground, eyes closed, exposed chest rising and falling softly with the rhythm of his breath.

He was meditating so peacefully that I had half a mind to turn around and leave him alone. But the thought of Cain in Wren’s sticky little hands stopped me in my tracks. Basil had been a servitor to the lords of Autumn. That meant he had to know something that could help us. He’d said as much to Astrid.

“Hello, Your Highness,” he said, his eyes still closed. He hadn’t even twitched to acknowledge our approach, and the suddenness of his voice startled me.

“Ah!” I practically jumped out of my skin.

The side of his mouth curled up into a wry smile. He turned his head toward me as he opened his eyes. Then he looked up at me and completed the smile, exposing a row of perfectly white teeth. “My apologies, Your Grace. I forgot that you aren’t in communication with your true nature. It deprives you of certain… powers.”

Hints of his meditative stupor clung to his body and voice, making me vaguely sleepy in a contented sort of way.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He tilted his head, considering me. “Just that you aren’t complete. Only Olwen can take the throne. Only Olwen can accurately read other faeries. You aren’t Olwen.”

I bristled. He said the words with the same maddening tone as Fox, as though not allowing every human memory I had to die a cold, swift death was a moral failing.

Basil shook his head with a sigh. Thick locks of dark hair fell loose from behind his ear, tumbling onto his forehead. He ran his large hand through his hair before letting it fall onto his knee.

“I am not trying to disparage you, Your Highness. You misunderstand my intent.”

“Chief,” I said.

“Pardon?” he asked.

“If you’re going to continue to call me by a title, use the one I choose. I’m the Chief of Police in Haven Hollow, not Princess Olwen of the Winter Court.”

“And that’s the problem. Princess Olwen is fated to overthrow Janara, not Chief Taliyah Morgan.”

Bullshit. I wasn’t going to even consider it unless I had no other options. I’d embraced the idea of dying for people who would never know my name. It was a reality that came with the badge. But this... I hadn’t chosen this. It wasn’t right. Wasn’t fair.

“I don’t believe in fate,” I said curtly. “And there’s more than one way to skin a cat. If you brought me here to lecture me about becoming Olwen, you can stuff it. I’ve had enough of that from Prince Reynard. Tell me you have something relevant to add, or this meeting is done before it even started.”

Basil indicated the floor in front of him. He’d arranged pillows, poofs, and beanbag chairs around his classroom. There was no discernible order, and I suspected students chose seats at random. It was the kind of laid-back atmosphere that someone like Astrid would enjoy. I understood why she listed him among her favorite teachers.

“You are in a complicated situation, are you not? Perhaps you should talk to someone about it,” he said. His eyes were soft. Pitying. I wanted to smack him for it. I wasn’t someone to be pitied.

“That’s an understatement,” I said.

“Tell me.”

I shook my head. “God, I don’t even know where to start. This entire thing is a shitshow.”

Basil placed his finger gently under my chin and tilted my head upward until I met his gaze. Beside me, Maverick stiffened, a low sound of protest building in his throat.

“Perhaps if you don’t know where to start, we should focus on where to end,” Basil said.

I edged away from his touch, took a breath, and sighed deeply. “Janara sent Wren to kidnap my brother’s spirit. She’s trying to force me to charge in against her since she isn’t sure that holding my ex-fiancé is enough of an enticement.”

Basil’s lips pursed. He looked disgusted but unsurprised. It made me like him an iota more than I had a moment before. At least I wasn’t the only one who hated the spiteful bitch.

“So we’ve finally come to the crux of it.”

“Of what?” Maverick exploded, clearly unable to keep his temper in check. “You haven’t made sense since we stepped in here. Speak English, for fuck’s sake, or we’re leaving. We can’t afford someone who’s just wasting our time.”

“You need intelligence to attempt a rescue,” he said blandly and then yawned in Mav’s direction, which seemed to further enrage the warlock, probably as Basil had planned. “I have some,” he continued. “Take my words with a grain of salt, as I haven’t visited Winter in a long time. I was banished from Faerie over an indiscretion many years ago. The information is badly out of date, but some insight is better than none.”

“You got kicked out?” I asked. “Why?”

His eyes turned cold, the first hint that something more than a genial professor lurked behind the unflappable exterior.

“That is my business.” Then he paused. “Do you want my help or not?”

I had to think about it. He was right that even a modest amount of information could save our lives. On the other hand, I wasn’t sure I could trust him. In fact, I didn’t trust him.

“Was what you did considered a misdemeanor or a felony under human law?” I asked.

That brought back the smile. The ice in his gaze thawed, and he allowed himself a rueful chuckle. “No. It was an indiscretion of a sexual nature with someone promised to a nobleman of another court. That’s all I’m willing to reveal to you, Chief Morgan. Is it sufficient to gain your trust?”

Ah. Soap opera logic. Something in my gut unclenched, and I scooted an inch closer to him.

I nodded. “Good enough for me. Mav?”

Mav grunted but didn’t say anything. He was still glowering at Basil, presumably for touching me so casually earlier.

Basil settled into a more comfortable position, one leg extended while he grasped the other, propping his chin on a knee. He studied us like that, wise, all-seeing eyes seeming to peer past the calm facade we tried to project.

“A direct attack is suicide,” he began. “As I’m sure you know. Janara will have her soldiers stationed at the borders and any other conceivable place you could show up. You don’t have a standing army. You don’t have full access to your powers. You are hampered by concern for Janara’s hostages, while she is not.”

“We get it!” Maverick snapped. “Janara is holding all the cards here. Where the hell is our ace? Because I’m tempted to tear your sleeves off to check.”

Basil didn’t seem fazed by the intensity of Mav’s outburst. It almost seemed to... amuse him, like a parent watching a child throw a fit.

“My love was a Sidhe of Winter,” Basil said quietly. “We knew we were breaking several laws, so we couldn’t be seen together in public. She made a permanent portal from the mortal world into Faerie. That portal leads directly to what used to be a closet near her bedchamber. She had her retreat built in secret, a lavish place for us to make love, you see? Only the servants she kept there know of its existence. All of them were loyal to her. I doubt they would have given up its location. I can’t be seen with you once we enter Winter, but I can get you close enough to take a shot at Janara. Is that a powerful enough ace for you, warlock?”

Maverick leaned back. He didn’t look any less stern, but he seemed satisfied. “How close is close?”

Basil smiled, with just an edge of cruelty this time. “Very. Within fifty miles of the palace. It’s well concealed beneath the ground and warded for good measure.”

Maverick and I exchanged a glance. It wasn’t a guarantee, but it was more than we’d had five minutes ago.

“Where is this portal?” I asked.

Basil stood, brushing himself off. “The old Blood Rose Castle. I will show you where it’s hidden, but I want a guarantee that I’m coming with you.”

“Why would you want to join our suicide mission?” I asked, frowning at him.

“Because I want to go home. A pardon from the Princess of Winter would grant me that.”

“If I depose Janara, you will have it.”

He grinned. “Excellent. Now, let’s be off, shall we?”