Page 69 of Wickedly Ever After (A Fairy Tale Romp, #1)

“Edrik, my darling!” She rushed toward him in a rustle of satin and lace and threw her arms around him. “It’s been an age. Kiss me, sweetheart.”

“Six months, exactly.” He took her hand in his and brushed the back of it with his lips. If he didn’t, she’d probably go right for his face like she had the last time.

Annabeth laughed. “You charmer—” She grabbed his feathery hair and pulled him down for a kiss.

He gave up. It didn’t matter how many times he tried to be professional—even brusque at times—she seemed to think she’d melt that ice around his heart with her passion.

What was it about being a taciturn, bitter, middle-aged asshole that made certain women swoon?

And never the ones he might actually have warmed to, given enough time.

It was always the ones who either wanted to make love to a man they considered dangerous or the ones who wanted to take him home, clean him up, and reform him.

The first group was obnoxious, the second group deluded.

Generally, he could make himself exasperatingly distant with both, but Queen Annabeth was different. She couldn’t take a hint.

“I heard about the giant,” Annabeth said, letting him go as quickly as she’d grabbed him and turning away. “I was worried.”

“I’m gratified, my lady.” Not that worried. His letter had gone unanswered, although he’d humiliated himself enough to ask politely for his payment. She’d ignored that part too.

“Of course, I needn’t have been concerned,” she said with a light laugh. “Of course, you were victorious. You’re always victorious, my dear, dark, deadly knight,” she purred.

And now with the alliteration. He stifled a sigh. “May I ask why you’ve summoned me?”

She stuck out her lower lip. “Oh, Ed. Six months since we’ve seen each other and that’s all you can talk about? Business?”

He flinched. He hated when people called him Ed. “You did ask me here, Majesty. I assumed it was for something more than a polite visit.”

She smiled and fluttered her eyelashes. “Naturally. But unlike you, I like to mix business with pleasure, and you, my dear, are certainly a pleasure.” She touched his nose with a long, painted nail.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. That nasty Witches’ Council can wait.

I know you’re supposed to be meeting with them today as well. ”

“News travels fast.”

“I have my ways.”

Ways he’d like to know about. Granted, he’d been a witchfinder for years now.

It made sense that the queen would keep a close watch on him, just to make sure he knew exactly where his loyalty had to lie.

But it irked him, too—not that she would doubt his reliability, but rather that she questioned his sanity.

He knew better than to turn to the Council for his welfare.

He’d killed too many witches for them to want him in good health, and every one of them knew that Edrick was the last thing they’d see before their magic vanished into the ravenous maw that was his endless hunger if they stepped out of line.

The queen was no more trustworthy, but she needed him. He was her best defense.

“I take it you wanted to talk to me about the same matter as they do?”

“Not exactly.” She left his side and went to a table where there was a decanter and two glasses. “Rose Brandy,” she said, pouring him a glass. “I know you don’t drink much, but I had this brought especially. It’s made with enchanted roses so it should be good for you.”

He accepted the cup, although he didn’t drink until she did.

It was good practice—more than half of all poisonings could be avoided by making sure the other person drank what they served him.

Less than half were smart enough to poison the glass instead of the decanter, and those he avoided by always carrying a mixture of clay and charcoal pellets in an inside pocket of his duster just in case.

Not that he actually expected to be poisoned at this juncture.

She wanted something from him, and evidently it was a matter of some importance and delicacy, or she wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of serving something as difficult to acquire as Rose Brandy.

Finding roses that still contained some of the original Happily-Ever-After magic in their blooms was a tricky business.

And it was, indeed, “good” for him, although he doubted the medicinal value for other people.

He sipped the liquid, hating his gratitude, but loving the way it made his bones ache less and eased some of the demands his body expected from him.

“I’d heard that you were looking to retire after this mission,” she said.

“I’m sure you can understand that there are very few lines of work for a man of my…particular skills. And those skills come with particular needs.”

“But you’re so young. You’re still in your thirties, yes?”

“Thirty-five, but my work has taken a toll on me.” That, at least, could not be questioned.

His was a high-risk profession—as far as he knew, no one had ever been tasked with killing giants since Jack the Giant Killer, and Edrik certainly didn’t intend to end his career in the same way as that famed serial killer.

Working for royalty didn’t end well for anyone if they didn’t get out before it was too late.

“I’m sure you can appreciate that there aren’t a great many people who have my talent, and fewer that suffer for it as I do. ”

She giggled. “You don’t have to be so coy with me, darling. You might as well come out and say it—you don’t think there are enough magical creatures left in this part of the world to satisfy your needs. I suppose you blame me for that.”

“Not at all, my lady. Rather, I thank you for giving me the opportunity to work.” He’d have been labeled a murderer otherwise.

“But as you say, there aren’t many magical creatures left.

Those I haven’t killed have fled to the Dread Mountains.

I don’t see you needing my services much longer, and I already have a residence in mind. ”

“Yes, but you’ll need servants, people to protect you, things of that kind.

A man like you must have some powerful enemies in the more…

dangerous…parts of the world.” She toyed with her glass.

“And I know that the Witches’ Council pays better for live capture than dead, so you’ve probably not made enough to let you retire to a life of ease.

You do deserve that, my precious bird.” She set her glass down and stroked his cheek with the back of her hand.

“What do you say to retiring on my dime? Your own castle in the Eastern Mountains where the weather is so nice, with all the retinue you need to keep the world away if you desire. And for your magical needs, the strongest artifacts in the world from my private collection to feed on. How does that sound?”

Too good to be true. He smiled. “That’s a tempting offer. But I assume you want something for such a generous proposal.”

“Of course,” she said, inspecting her fingernails. “Tell me, Ed, how much do you know about Happily-Ever-After?”

He winced again, but he could let that go. Rather, he had to. He took a sip of the rose wine. “I know the roses that make this drink grew in that time. That’s about it.” Of course, he knew about Happily-Ever-After. That was when the world ended for people like him. His jaw tightened.

Once upon a time, the world had been a better place—a kindly place where magical creatures and humans mingled.

Undoubtably, that’s why he’d been conceived.

But that all had changed in a heartbeat.

Shortly before he came squalling into the world, his mother had abandoned him as an egg and fled.

When Edrick crept dripping from that egg, a blind, featherless chick, he’d crawled instinctively toward the drunk man lying on the floor for warmth and safety, curling up in the crook of his arm, because there was nothing else he could do.

He still had no idea why his father kept him instead of tossing him in the river.

It could only have been cowardice. The man certainly had never had a heart.

But Edrick lived, and he wasn’t mistreated—his father knew all too well what Edrick’s gift was after the first time he pounced on a dying man like a starving raven on a helpless mouse.

Had his father been a better man, he probably would have run a knife through Edrick while he slept, or at least dumped him out in the swamp just east of the town to die.

Instead, he kept Edrick, mostly because dead men and women didn’t care if he rifled through their pockets for money to buy drink.

So when his father went from tavern to tavern, plying his trade as a bard, Edrick went too, calling himself Harper and playing the instrument during the evenings while draining people of their life for their purses in dark alleys at night, and hating every minute of it.

He’d relished burning that harp the day his father died.

“Do you know the names of the witches responsible for ruining it?”

Everyone did. “Hector West and Ida North, I believe. They’ve been missing for decades.”

“Missing and wanted. The Council plans to send you to find them and kill them.”

That was a death sentence. “The last time anyone saw them, they were riding toward the Forbidden Forest. No one who goes in there ever comes out.”

“They say that your…special skills…will give you protection. They plan to send you as soon as you can get ready. I don’t need to tell you that they don’t expect you to succeed.”

“I gathered that.” He ground his teeth. Maybe Annabeth would let him kill some of them as traitors. Those mediocre witches weren’t much of a meal, but at least he’d enjoy it.

“I, on the other hand, do expect you to succeed. And when you do, I will give you the wand of Ida North and the staff of Hector West as your reward.”

He was momentarily stunned. A thousand years of magic were in those objects—he might never have to kill so much as a fairy to feed himself ever again. “That’s generous of you.”

“It’s you,” she said, shrugging. “You’re going to have to go either way, Edrick. And I think you’ll go willingly if you know there’s a reward at the end of it.”

He would have to go. Choices for people like him had always been limited. But there would be a catch to this offer. There always was. “What do you want?”

“I want you to bring them to me alive,” she said.

“They’re no use to me dead. You see, they know where my son is hiding.

And once I have him, there will be no one to oppose me as the rightful ruler of this land.

” She leaned in toward him, teeth glinting in the firelight.

“Secure my future, witchfinder, and I’ll make your dreams come true. ”