Page 20 of Royal Ransom (Princess Procedural #4)

Taliyah

Basil guided me from the pantry to the nearby servant quarters.

The maid’s uniform I was now dressed in was nearly as ridiculous as the poofy pants Basil was wearing. The uniform gave off harem vibes, and I would have refused to wear it if I’d still been a perimenopausal police officer with some sag. Even with the near-perfect, immortal body of a young woman, the slit-legged pants and barely there top made me uncomfortable. I would still have refused them if lives weren’t on the line.

“Why the hell are they dressing their servants like sex slaves?” I hissed at him, smoothing down my top as we left the empty quarters. “It’s Winter for Chrissakes, I need a damned parka, not a bikini top.”

Basil grimaced. It wasn’t exactly disagreement, but I could tell he was unhappy. He looked miserable in his vest and poofy pants. Maybe it was a mercy that I’d locked Maverick in a glass coffin. He would have lost the rest of his blood volume ogling me.

“You’re closer to the mark than you’d like,” Basil said with a sigh. “Janara brought back the old uniforms for more than fashion’s sake. Before your father assumed the throne, it was common practice for royalty to take liberties with the servants they found attractive.”

I grimaced. Yet another reason to hate Janara. She wasn’t just a murderous, backstabbing, foul-tempered bitch; she also let the powerful do whatever they pleased without consequences. Fox should have started with that when he was trying to convince me to take my throne. It was the small, everyday cruelties that really struck me.

“My first act as queen,” I muttered. “Change the dress code. Stat.”

Well, Priss’ first act as queen, maybe, I reminded myself, hoping and praying this was really an out for me. Granted, it would be a long-coming out, but it might still prove to be an out, all the same.

Basil’s chuckle was wispy and evaporated as though it had never existed a moment later. He was solemn, staring ahead, taking in everything with all-seeing eyes. I wasn’t convinced he couldn’t create a few more eyes in the back of his head. Astrid had said he was one of the most potent Autumn faeries she’d ever met, and she’d been around their lords for a chunk of the year now.

I listened harder, straining to catch the sound as we walked steadily nearer. I could just hear the slight melodic lilt of a cacophony of instruments. The voices layering over the background instrumentals were so perfectly harmonious they sounded like a single person singing. It was haunting, festive, joyful, and perhaps the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard. The perfection of it was enough to bring tears to my eyes.

Basil took my hand and led me gently forward, giving me a soft, pitying look.

“You’ve never heard a song sung inside Faerie before, have you?” he asked.

I shook my head, scrubbing at my cheeks. It was stupid to cry at a time like this. Basil might believe we were in friendly territory, but the party complicated things. It invited unknown elements into the fortress of safety we’d been promised. Anything could go wrong, especially if I was recognized. We only had Basil’s best guess on how long our ruse would work. After that, I would be stuck at a party with a bunch of hostile winter faeries.

Basil quickened our pace a bit. When we finally reached the end of the corridor, the sounds were almost deafening. The hallway opened to a courtyard and, beyond that, a sprawling garden of frozen statues. At first, I thought they were frozen faeries and animals, but a closer look revealed multifaceted ice so finely sculpted that it looked almost lifelike. Each statue threw off gorgeous prisms of light as minute frost faeries flitted past them, illuminating the crowd in hues of white, blue, and green.

The festival outside was awash in sparkling silver. The creatures dancing through the vaguely familiar streets glittered in the incandescent moonlight. They looked human, but flawlessly so. I’d never seen so many perfectly stunning faces—impossibly beautiful and graceful. Some fluttered above the ground with transparent wings, others swayed to the music, while still others danced with an energy I’d never seen in humans. One stroked a crystal harp, eyes closed, drifting away to her own song. Only leaf-pointed ears and a few other animal features revealed that I hadn’t stumbled on a supermodel convention.

Basil suddenly took my hand, lacing my fingers through his. His eyes sparkled with joy, and I could hardly stand it. He was so happy to be in faerie and hearing one of their songs, even if it wasn’t the one he’d grown up with. We couldn’t let ourselves act like a pair of giddy schoolkids. As servants in the Fae realm, we had to look like we’d grown up around the song—like it was nice, but not something to cry over.

“I may be new to faerie, but this seems extravagant for a birthday party,” I whispered. “Do they usually go to this much trouble decorating for one rural Sidhe? I mean, that’s what they think Priss is, right?”

“Indeed,” he said quietly. “This is quite a large gathering. Sixty is an important birthday, but it wouldn’t warrant the extra help Priss has hired on. This looks like a Festivus.”

“And what is that?” I asked. “I didn’t grow up here, if you recall.”

I could have searched my mind for the answer, but honestly, we didn’t have time for that much introspection. I wanted to get Maverick out of the ice coffin as soon as possible. The cloth we’d piled on top of it would only hide him for so long.

“A celebration of a member of the royal family—a birthday, anniversary, or other royal occasion. There’s a schedule for who hosts each season. We were unlucky enough to stumble on Priss’ turn.”

I frowned. “Is there another member of the royal family who shares a birthday with her?”

Basil thought for a moment and then paled. “Janara.”

I considered it and swore under my breath. This was moving faster than I’d planned. I’d banked on having a couple of days to settle myself before attempting a palace coup. Now I was in a building with the wicked witch, and only one of us knew it. That had its advantages. There would also be fewer troops guarding her here. Enough to kill me, sure, but Janara hadn’t expected me to attack her here. She’d have her eyes on the palace.

“It doesn’t change the goal, just our approach,” I said. “Do you know a quiet place where we can plot?”

Basil smiled faintly. “I know just the place, actually.”

***

Basil rapped on a plain oak door three times and stepped back to wait. It didn’t take long for someone to answer. A tall brunette woman opened the door. The color of her hair indicated she was at least half-human; you didn’t get many deep browns in Winter. The wrinkles on her face were my next clue. The long lines gave her an aged elegance that was both comforting and mesmerizing. She appeared to be a stunning fifty years old with the iciest blue eyes I’d ever seen. My illusory self wished she’d aged half as gracefully as this woman had before my sudden transformation. Silver decorated her collarbones and the corners of her eyes, complementing the blue-gray plumage that covered her front like a dress. If I glanced down, I was half-convinced I’d see the clawed foot of a bird.

Wow, I thought idly. I even get to see an angel before I die on this idiotic suicide mission we’re on.

Her eyes roved over me speculatively and hardened when they landed on Basil. She recognized him in disguise. Hopefully, she’d be the only one. Maybe this was the illusion he’d worn to meet my mother.

“Now?” she hissed. “You choose now of all times to return? The Queen is visiting! Get out! Come see Priss in a few days.”

“I can’t, Netty. We need your help,” he replied without missing a beat, gesturing to me. She didn’t blink in surprise; she just gave me another searching look. So, she wasn’t seeing through his magic. Basil had reused the disguise.

“If Janara finds out you’re here and that I helped you, she will pluck me and serve me at her next Yule feast! Get out!”

Basil didn’t listen. He barged into the room without another word and helped me settle onto a loveseat. I was beginning to feel dizzy, overwhelmed by the enormity of what I was about to attempt.

I’d taken lives before; it was hard not to when you were chasing down rapists and murderers daily. Those types rarely went quietly. But I’d never relished taking a life, and I’d never done so in cold blood. What I was going to attempt wasn’t self-defense; it was cold, calculated murder.

“You’re insane!” The woman continued. “You just burst in here after years and start making demands of me? I don’t think so,” Netty snapped at Basil. “You’d better—”

Basil swung around and barked, “This. Is. Not. The. Time.”

I expected her to argue. I would have if he’d taken that tone with me. We were in the wrong, and I would have let him have it. But Netty seemed intimidated by Basil and held her tongue.

Instead, she rolled her eyes and paced a few steps away, muttering, “He comes to my house during the Festivus... with a bloodied half-elf, no less... Should’ve kicked them both out...” She cut herself off with an irritated shake of her head.

So my disguise was holding. Good. Basil looked me over, grimacing when he saw a bit of blood seeping through a leg of my pants. It stood out like lurid paint against the silver.

“The yeti got closer to you than I thought,” he sighed, shaking his head.

With deft fingers, Basil unlatched the belt that cinched my pants tight around the waist. He pulled away the offending material and examined the cut on the outer curve of my thigh. It should have made me self-conscious, but there was no heat in his gaze. It was the sterile stare of a doctor—professional, no matter how many articles of clothing came off.

“I don’t have the ingredients I need to heal this directly,” he muttered. “Your aunt might have some in her private stores, but we’d have to kill her to get at them. For now, I’m going to close this with an Autumn mesh. It won’t be comfortable, but it should stop the bleeding.”

“Aunt?” Nettie interjected as she narrowed her eyes on me. She circled us now, her wings folded across her back rustling with nerves. “Hexes and Hoarfrost, Basil! Who is this woman? Why in the gods’ blood did you think it was a good idea to come back here, now of all times? Priss already said she didn’t want to see you!”

Ah, so this was about more than putting his daughter on the throne. He’d been looking for a chance to worm his way back into his daughter’s life. Framed that way, his actions seemed a little less noble. I knew a thing or two about parents with high standards.

“Netty, meet Princess Olwen. She prefers to be called ‘Taliyah’ though. Forgive her appearance and injuries. We weren’t expecting to be ambushed at the castle. And as for your other accusations: I didn’t come here to upset Priss. I came to help her in her quest to unseat Janara. Little did we know she’d be so close at hand.”

Netty stared at me in shock, taking in the appearance the potion had temporarily given me. I’d caught a glimpse in the mirror. I looked like a wizened elf, clearly a faerie but with too much human blood to remain untouched by the cold. I looked short and hunched. Not a threat to anyone. She stared at me as though she could strip away the ancient outer layer and see who lay beneath. And then she must have done exactly that because she took a step back and collapsed, trembling, at a small, unvarnished table. Most things in her quarters seemed to be old or shabby. Was this beautiful woman a servant?

“Taliyah, this is Priss’s governess.”

The introduction seemed to bring Netty back to herself. She sat up a little straighter and schooled her expression. When she glowered at Basil, I could see she was a teacher of some kind. Only teachers could walk that thin line between authority and absolute fear.

“You owe me a better explanation than you’ve provided, Basil. Give me one reason I shouldn’t turn you over to Janara this instant. If Olwen is discovered and Janara thinks Priss had anything to do with it, Priss will be tortured and executed right alongside Reynard.”

Did that mean Fox was here? I doubted I’d gotten that lucky. Netty probably meant that Priss would be tossed in jail and executed publicly, just like Fox either had been or was soon going to be. But the fact that I wasn’t entirely sure what Janara was capable of spoke unpleasant volumes about her character.

“Janara had all ways in and out of Winter blocked, save the passage I forged with Queen Bianca,” Basil explained. “A straightforward charge was suicide, so we decided on a surgical strike. We didn’t anticipate...” Basil gestured vaguely around us. “This. I promise you I wouldn’t have brought this danger so close to Priss on purpose. I thought we would stay the night and leave for the castle by morning. Truly, I am sorry to barge in like this. The last thing I ever wished to do was cause you more trouble.”

Netty scoffed loudly, followed by a weary sigh. “Well, it’s a bit late for that, isn’t it? Oh, don’t look so sullen. I didn’t say I was going to turn you in, just that I could. Priss would be angry with me if I did. She pretends to hate you, but we both know better.”

Basil smiled sadly. “I hope that’s true. But like I said, this isn’t about Priss. Or at least, it’s not completely about Priss.”

“Oh, just... sit, would you?” Netty sighed, a bit less patient. “I’ll brew you some tea while we discuss our options. I’m probably going to be put to death for not squawking at the first sign of your arrival. But if I’m going to die, I might as well do it with some panache.”

“Tea would be wonderful, thank you,” Basil said with an exhausted sigh of his own. I didn’t look at him directly, but I could feel his gaze on me like an ant under a magnifying glass. Rather than burn me up from the inside out, it warmed me to my core. I was glad to know I wasn’t alone here.

A few moments later, the clatter of silverware alerted me to Netty’s return with the promised tea. After a long stretch of silence, she asked, “So... this is Olwen, you said?”

“Netty, don’t,” Basil replied with a sharp edge in his voice. “She doesn’t need to get the third degree from you. She’s uncomfortable enough as it is. She didn’t plan to come here and take the throne. Janara’s actions forced her hand.”

“And what actions were those?” Netty asked.

“Leave it alone, Netty,” he said with deep fatigue. “You know the Queen and her moods. Suffice it to say it was nasty and put Taliyah in a compromising position. Will you help us get close to her or not?”

“Not tonight,” Netty said, clucking her tongue. “Everyone is getting ready to retire. You arrived just before dawn, Basil. Priss has been in bed for hours, and even the fawns are beginning to turn in for the night. Tomorrow night, perhaps, but right now it’s too dangerous. She’ll see you coming from a mile away.”

Basil’s lips pursed, and he nodded. “I suppose I understand that. It will be cutting things rather fine, but we don’t have many options now, do we?”

“No,” Netty said tartly. “You don’t. Go to your old room. I’ll tell the staff you’re the new gardener and she’s your ailing mother and that Priss let you share quarters out of the kindness of her heart.”

Basil bowed slightly. “As you wish, my lady.”

Netty threw a book at him. She had impeccable aim. I liked that in a woman.