Page 3 of Royal Ransom (Princess Procedural #4)

Taliyah

Astrid was waiting for me when I got off work, as usual.

These days, I was tempted to put her in cuffs for an hour for loitering. It seemed like everyone needed me for something. Every witch in Scapegrace was keeping in contact, distressed by their missing member. They all seemed to think I’d find answers where they couldn’t, as though I could conjure a miracle from my sparky, faerie ass just for them.

Then again, I managed to get the boys settled down in a timely fashion, despite the schoolyard virus they’d brought home. Maybe I was capable of miracles after all.

The young red-haired vampire wasn’t alone. Her new friend, Meredith Boline, had perched on the edge of my couch, idly stroking the spine of her oversized rat familiar. She’d been unfailingly polite throughout dinner and even spelled the rat to be quiet when he got rambunctious at bedtime.

Despite feeling under the weather, the boys seemed to enjoy the company. The magical sleep we’d been put into had given me a hangover, but both of them appeared well-rested. On the mend, even. I wasn’t sure if I should have shoved an icicle up Morgana’s ass for doing what she had to us or send her a thank-you card for saving me another week of playing nursemaid. If their temperatures stayed down, I’d be able to send them back to school in just a few days.

I didn’t realize how much tension I’d been holding in my shoulders until Astrid spoke. I twitched so violently that I swore I pulled something. My nerves were as taut as harp strings, and it felt like anything could send me pinging off the walls. I had to force myself to take deep breaths and ask her to repeat the question. I hadn’t really been listening, too lost in thought about the carved bone in my pocket.

“I asked if you’re feeling okay,” Astrid said, frowning at me over the lip of her mug. I didn’t have blood to feed her, but she’d sipped tea throughout dinner to avoid raising any awkward questions with the boys. They knew monsters were real, but I didn’t want them to grasp just how real they were. “You look really pale. More so than usual, I mean.”

A tiny, cowardly part of me wanted to flee from where this conversation might lead. If I lied, she’d know. Astrid might have looked like a bubbly teen, but she could be downright perceptive at times, a trait she shared with her annoying older brother. Unlike Maverick, she could be pushy, tripping over herself to fix a problem, even when there were no easy solutions. I didn’t want to bring this particular problem to her door, though. If Fox died while in captivity, she was the heir apparent to the court. She had enough to deal with without adding this ultimatum to her list of ongoing problems. And as Fox was her uncle, she and Fox were close.

But in the end, I had to tell her. If I didn’t respond to Wren’s message, I might be signing Fox’s death warrant. If he died, Astrid would be the de facto leader of Autumn. I’d been furious when I learned about my destiny. If you were going to carry the weight of an entire nation, you better damn well be warned about it first.

I sighed and reached into my pocket, withdrawing the bones. They looked small and almost unreal, with all the scrimshaw on the surface. Wren had painstakingly etched every letter onto the small surface with magic or a tool. Either way, she’d handled the bones long enough to leave a cold, unpleasant residue of her magic on them, even though they didn’t appear to be cursed.

Meredith set her rat, Yew, on Charlie’s empty chair and leaned over the bones, giving them a speculative once-over. If it disgusted her to lean over the amputated portion of a limb, it didn’t show. Then again, she’d probably seen worse. Her mother was one of, if not the strongest, dark witch on the continent. She had to have seen things.

“I can’t read it,” Meredith said, turning the bones over in her hand, as though a different angle might produce better results. “It looks faerie-made, but the language is too old for me to understand.”

I glanced up to find Astrid’s face paler than I’d ever seen it. She, too, was staring at the bones. Unlike Meredith, she had no problem gleaning the meaning. The high Sidhe possessed the gift of tongues. It didn’t matter that Wren had picked some obscure winter dialect. We could read the bones and weep.

“Is that...?” Astrid began, pausing mid-question to swallow audibly. She looked like she might be sick. I sympathized. I’d seen worse as a police detective in Portland, sure, but it was the implication of torture that turned my stomach.

“Fox’s finger?” I finished for her. “I’m not sure. That’s what Wren claims with her little note, though.”

“Oh, my Goddess,” Astrid said, swallowing audibly.

“I was going to take it to the coven house to be examined,” I continued. “A positive ID is needed before I can discuss next steps with the Council.” I took a deep breath and continued. “I’d like to tell Wren and Janara, for that matter, to go to hell, but this is bigger than me.” And that was true—it was bigger than me. The Hollow had already fought beside me twice, and there had been casualties. The more violent the clash, the more likely we were to out ourselves to the public. But that wasn’t my decision to make.

It hurt to say the last part aloud. I’d always been able to solve things on my own. At least until Jonathan came along and messed up my entire life. I felt like I hadn’t been able to take a deep breath since then. I was so off-footed that I had to ask for help, and I hated that. If it was my mess, logic dictated that I should be the one to clean it up. But, as I’d said, this was bigger than me. Bigger than all of us. The fate of a court of Faerie and an undercover Hollow was at stake.

Astrid’s eyes were enormous in the pale expanse of her face. I wished she’d turn them elsewhere. They looked so much like Maverick’s that it hurt. The ache in my chest was so intense that I fought not to gasp. I did look away when she gingerly weighed the bones in her hands. The thought that she might be holding what was left of her uncle’s pinky made me feel vaguely ill. Even if he’d been a prick to me, he’d been a decent teacher to Astrid. No one should have to face a scenario like this, let alone use their magic to confirm my theory.

I didn’t need to look back at the young former witch to know when she found the answer. It came with a distinct sniffle and a muttered, “Excuse me,” as she got up from the table. The clatter of ivory against the tabletop reminded me of a dice game, a sound too jolly for our current situation. I didn’t stop Astrid when she brushed past me to run for the bathroom.

“It’s his,” I said, sounding out the words. Speaking them aloud was nauseating. I felt a sudden urge to lean over the sink.

That bitch. That fucking bitch. She was going to pay for this. Not just for hurting Fox. She was going to pay for hurting Astrid. For potentially forcing her to shoulder all of Autumn.

“It’s not cursed,” Meredith announced finally. “I may be crap at weaving dark spells, but I can recognize them when they’re present.”

I rubbed my face. “Well, that’s something, at least.”

Though I had to wonder why Wren hadn’t tried cursing me. Had I really frightened my aunt that badly the last time we’d faced each other? The battle had been close—far closer than I wanted to admit to anyone but myself. Without my friends and family, I would have died that night. Something I’d done in the meantime must have spooked them. It was the only reason I could think of that kept them from drowning us in ruthless winter combatants.

“There is something here. I think it’s related to the word built on the fuse line.”

I glanced back at Meredith just in time to see her tapping a faint line on the bone where it had fused. Fox must have broken the bone at some point. It was strange to think of him being injured. From the moment he’d sauntered into my life, he’d been a powerful, ever-present force. He was a faerie prince, and he never let me forget it. I couldn’t imagine him getting hurt, let alone maimed the way Janara had done.

“What does the spell do?”

“It’s elemental, I think. A talisman, not a weapon.”

“To summon the north wind,” I muttered under my breath. “It’s basically a burner phone. They amputated his finger so I could give them an answer. Jesus fucking Christ...”

It made the mutilation that much worse to know they could have contacted me another way but chose this to maximize our suffering. I prayed Fox was still alive. Not just for his own sake, but for Astrid’s. I didn’t want her hands to be next on the chopping block.

Astrid returned from the bathroom with flushed cheeks and streaming eyes. She’d tried but hadn’t quite managed to hide the smear of scarlet on her skin where she’d scrubbed blood from her mouth. I felt bad for depriving her of the meal. She would need her strength if this situation went FUBAR.

“It’s his?” I asked, though I had few doubts.

Astrid nodded stiffly. “I can feel... him for lack of a better word on it. There’s a magical signature that’s unique to everyone, like a fingerprint. We’ve been having lessons long enough that I know what that feels like. She… she really does have him.”

We’d all known that in theory. Janara had even been there when the portal opened in the middle of the street, spilling strangers from the other side of the country into our backyard. It was one thing to know this in theory; it was another to see it in practice. Knowing Fox was out there, hurting, was almost too much to bear if you let yourself dwell on it for any length of time.

Astrid explained what she read in greater detail. Meredith and Yew sat very still, absorbing it all, before Meredith got up and excused herself as well. I waited to hear her toss her cookies in the other room, like Astrid had. Instead, I caught the muted ring of a cell phone and a murmured conversation.

“She’s calling her mom,” Astrid said in response to my questioning glance. “Lucretia sent Hexus Rangers to investigate what’s going on in Misty Hollow. She was going to contact you soon if you didn’t call her first.”

“Why?” I asked.

Astrid cocked her head to the side. “Lucretia thinks you might have the key to putting it down.”

Of course she did. It wasn’t enough that I was stomping out fires in my own Hollow. Now the high witch of Texas wanted to add more work to my already crammed schedule. Son of a…

“After Fox’s situation is dealt with, not before,” I said quietly. “I can’t focus on some kind of swamp monster right now. Not until this is settled.”

Though settling things was a hell of a lot easier said than done. How was I supposed to spring Fox without getting myself killed? He was nestled at the very heart of winter and more jealously guarded than a dragon’s horde. Charging in to rescue him was suicide. But what else could I do? Arrange to meet Janara like she’d asked? That was just inviting trouble. For Janara to rule, I had to die. I wasn’t going to make it that easy for her.

My phone rang, startling me in the silence. I reached for it without thought, swiping to answer. I raised the phone to my ear and replied tersely, “Chief Morgan speaking.”

There was a pause on the other end, then a man’s voice, speaking quietly as though afraid to wake a sleeper. I felt anything but lethargic when he said my name. Just one word.

“Tally.”

I sucked in a breath and found I couldn’t force it back out. I felt dizzy. He was alive! He was still alive!

“Maverick.”