The Outcast Prince

distrust. He tried to ignore the ache that threatened to tear open his heart. Maybe he wasn’t ready for this. Yet he remembered how it had been last night. How she’d believed him about the psychometry. He had to give her a chance to believe in fairies. He needed that chance.

He took a breath and tried logic. “Why would I fill your garden with mirrors?”

“I don’t know.”

“How would I when I was in bed with you?”

“I don’t know.” He could see the doubt begin to take hold as her gaze flicked between him and the window.

“All those odd bumps and crashes last night? They were banished fairies, Greys we call them, looking to cause trouble because I have refused to help the other one find the mirror he wants.”

“Right.” She nodded, but the desire that had filled her eyes last night was totally gone. She’d slept with him and was now regretting every second of the time they’d been intimate, while he was holding onto those same moments as if they were the only lifeline he had.

He only had one thing he could do and Dylis would make him pay for it later. “Dylis, show yourself please.”

“No. This is your problem.”

“It’s yours as well. I’m not moving. I’m not doing anything until you show yourself.” And to Lydia it looked as if he was talking to himself. This was getting better and better.

“Okay, I think you should go. I’ll give you a head start before I call the police about the mirrors.” Lydia edged around the kitchen as far from him as she could get.

He didn’t move. “Dylis. I swear if you do not do this for me I will do everything in my power to ensure you suffer for the rest of your very long life.” His words vibrated with power he’d never felt before. He’d tapped into a magic that he hadn’t known he possessed. He knew a fairy’s word had power, but the desperation he was feeling must have given his words enough weight for his fairy blood to shine. Great. He’d spent years suppressing it, only to have it surface now.

“Damn you.” She shimmered for a moment but nothing else changed to his eye.

Lydia gasped. Her hand covered her mouth as she pressed herself against a wall. Her gaze was on the ten- inch woman standing on her kitchen counter.

Dylis gave a bow that bordered on surly. “I’m Caspian’s guardian, fairy godmother, or angel on his shoulder—whatever you like to think of me as.”

Lydia closed her eyes, and after a couple of seconds she opened them. “You’re still there.”

“I’ve been here all night, keeping the imps away from you two,” Dylis snapped. “This was not a good idea.” She pointed her finger at Caspian.

Dylis wasn’t going to forgive him for a while. Generally fairies weren’t supposed to reveal themselves unless they were blending into human society. Dylis couldn’t do that as she was supposed to be his guardian in secret. No one was supposed to know he was important enough to have a guardian. Now Lydia did, even if she didn’t understand what he was telling her.

“You were talking to her?” Lydia took a step forward.

“She woke me to tell me about the mirrors in the hope that I could reason with the Grey that put them there and get rid of them before you got up.” He really needed a second cup of coffee for this conversation.

“But I got up too early. You weren’t going to tell me.” Her gaze lifted from Dylis to him, her dark eyes full of suspicion instead of heat and longing.

“I thought about telling you I was fairy last night, but it’s not easy to say and even harder to hear. If not for Dylis, would you have believed me?”

She bit her lower lip, her gaze sliding around the kitchen as if she were looking for more fairies.

“There’s no one else here at the moment.” He hoped that sounded reassuring.

“But last night…” Her eyes widened as she began putting together what she’d heard last night and what he’d just told her about there being Greys in the house.

“There were two imps and a boggart making trouble. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Dylis tapped her sword. “They weren’t here to hurt you.”

“They were here because of you.” Lydia looked at him, still wary.

“Yes. The Grey is trying to force me to find a powerful mirror for him.”

“With your psychometry.” She paused. “So why not just find it and be done with it?”

That was why it was best that humans didn’t know about fairies. They’d make deals without understanding the consequences. If Shea turned up, he’d trick Lydia out of her soul and then use it as a bargaining tool—it’s what he’d do if he were in Shea’s place. And he knew in that moment he’d do whatever Shea asked to keep her safe.

He had to make the deal to protect Lydia from Shea and his band of Greys, even if Lydia wasn’t sure about accepting the fact that he was half-fairy. She didn’t deserve to be drawn into his drama any more than she already was.

“I’m going to.”

“Caspian, be careful.” Dylis actually looked like she cared.

“Wait.” Lydia put her hand on his arm. “These Greys are bad news?”

“They are dangerous and will do anything to get back to Annwyn… back home.” He knew it was too much strange information, but at least she knew who he was.

“Is this your home?”

“I’m mortal. I was born here.” And he hoped to die here when he was old, but the odds of that happening were reducing. “But I am half-fairy so bound by their laws. Making deals with a Grey carries a penalty.”

Her grip tightened a fraction. “Then don’t do it.”

“He has to. Shea won’t stop until he does. It is better he makes it on his terms than being backed farther into a corner.” Dylis gave Lydia a look that indicated that she thought Lydia was a complication.

“Is that true?”

“Yes.” Maybe the deal he made wouldn’t be that bad. Maybe his father wouldn’t kill him for treason. Maybe Lydia would still want him to stay over after this.

He leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t turn her head and place her lips against his either. Lydia released his arm and he walked over to the back door.

“Dylis, protect Lydia. Please.” He didn’t wait for an answer before he stepped onto the verandah.

The light was less bright now that the sun had moved, but it made the scene more chilling. It wasn’t just mirrors. The garden had been torn up. Pavers and grass had been upturned. Plants had been ripped from the ground and were scattered around. He walked down the stairs—even if he got rid of the mirrors there was still damage that needed fixing. And this was just the backyard.

He took a couple more paces and entered the forest of mirrors. His hand brushed the edges as he walked. Most were mundane. People checking hair, a house getting painted, children playing. His hand jerked back as blood splattered and someone died.

“Was that it?” Shea said from behind Caspian.

“No. The mirror witnessed a murder. A recent one.” And there was no one he could tell about it. Sometimes his gift sucked like that.

This time he noticed a half-dozen smaller banished fairies loitering like a gang waiting to be told to start something. Shea’s little band of helpers. What had he promised them in return?

He ignored them and took a deep breath, then kept going, letting the images wash over him instead of taking over. He got fleeting glimpses of a hundred different lives. They spun around and made him dizzy. He wasn’t used to filtering this much information at a time. Usually it was a couple of items, and spending time with each. He stopped and shivered, momentarily disoriented, and he still had the front yard to go. His stomach clenched on the coffee. He should’ve eaten breakfast. He needed to ground himself back in the mortal world instead of the past.

“Well?” Shea demanded like a passive-aggressive shadow that wouldn’t let up.

“None of these.” Caspian pushed the words through gritted teeth. He was cold, like he was standing in iced water. “Return them.”

Shea didn’t move. He looked shorter in the morning light and less ethereal. The magic was costing him.