The Outcast Prince

and quietly so she could stay well clear of the gossip, but Gran would have wanted to go out in style. Maybe a big party was just the thing after all…

Maybe a very public memorial would be enough for people to sate their curiosity while reminding them that Gran was a much loved person, someone who’d made a difference in many people’s lives. Lydia nodded to herself. Yes. That was how she’d respond to the media. She’d lay down a challenge and see who was brave enough to show their face and mourn Nanette Callaway.

And in the meantime, she’d figure out who tipped off the press.

* * *

Something hit his bedroom window with a thump and a flutter. Caspian opened his eyes, awake and alert even though morning was still thinking about arriving. For a moment all he heard was the pounding of his heart. Then the flutter-bump happened again. He turned to face the window and saw a small bird against the pane. The bird’s wing caught in the streetlight and shone iridescent turquoise. A fairy wren.

Flutter-bump.

The bird was on the inside trying to get out.

Cold filled his gut. If a wren was in his house…

“Shit.” The Brownies.

He threw back the covers and ran down the stairs two at a time. Ice pumped in his veins, fueling a panic he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

He skidded into the kitchen and stopped as if he’d hit a wall. The antique tea set was scattered across the floor. Sugar was everywhere. A broken saucer had sent shards of porcelain over the tiles. His eyes widened at the wanton destruction of an irreplaceable one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old tea set. It might have been worth hundreds of dollars, but to him it was worth more. He’d purchased it especially for the Brownies. He’d taken their arrival as a sign of good fortune and protection.

The skin on his back prickled as if a ghost was running its fingers down his spine. Caspian slowly lifted his gaze from the floor, aware he was being watched. The gaunt man from the yard sale stood in his kitchen, sipping from a tiny teacup. The echo of fairy beauty still clung to the Grey like an extra shadow. The man’s lips turned up in what could only be called a victory smile.

Caspian did a quick threat assessment. The Grey looked pretty enough to have only been recently banished.

But still Caspian was out of his depth.

For several heartbeats neither of them moved. Caspian looked away first. If it hadn’t been five in the morning, he might’ve been smarter and pretended as if he hadn’t seen the Grey. Although the smashed tea set had already given away that he could see fairies. He really hoped the Brownies were safe.

The Grey set the cup down on the saucer. “I appreciate your hospitality, Caspian ap Felan ap Gwyn ap Nudd.”

The use of his fairy name to the fourth generation was a sign of respect, but coming from this man it was more of a threat. The Grey knew exactly who he was, and no doubt knew exactly how the fairy blood in him had manifested in the mortal world. The Grey had watched him touch the mirror at the garage sale. He knew he shouldn’t have bought it.

His heart hammered, rattling his ribs. Where the hell was Dylis? Caspian inclined his head but didn’t speak. Fairies could twist words to their own advantage better than any human lawyer.

“You have been well schooled. Be assured I’m not after your soul. In my present state I have no use for it.” He flicked his hand dismissively as if he were used to being obeyed.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take Caspian’s soul to trade later. Caspian waited. Running would serve no purpose.

The Grey walked around the kitchen counter. His clothes were finely made and highly decorated. Velvet and brocade in muted shades, a memory of their past color. They had yet to show signs of wear from being cut off from the power of the Court. He’d obviously been a lord, and yet he wore no sword of fairy silver. Whatever he’d done had been bad to be cut off and cast out without a weapon.

Caspian’s initial adrenaline-fueled panic gave way to something much colder. A bead of sweat rolled down his bare back. It was one thing to see fairies but another to have one break into his house and confront him.

The Grey’s boots crunched over the pieces of china. Caspian tried not to wince. The Grey was doing it deliberately and enjoying every pace. Each grinding step was another insult to the Brownies. He was acting as if he were still at Court looking down his nose at those who chose to live in the mortal world. But here, fairies, like Dylis, and the Brownies outranked a Grey no matter how recently banished.

Even a changeling like him outranked this Grey. Pity there was no one here to enforce the rules and protocol. Caspian willed himself to remain still and wait, trying to think of ways to get rid of the Grey without it being construed as an insult or a sign of weakness. He drew a blank.

“While I don’t want your soul, I do want something from you.” The Grey smiled the way a fox would smile at a cornered rabbit. His pale eyes glinted in the pre-dawn light.

Caspian was as good as dead. If he refused he was as good as dead, and if he helped he was as good as dead. It was simply a matter of time and a question of who would kill him first. The Grey or his father—the Crown Prince of Death, guardian of the veil between worlds—for breaking the rules and making a deal with a banished fairy.

Caspian watched the Grey but said nothing.

“I’m looking for a mirror, one lost in your world centuries ago.” The Grey paused as if waiting for a reaction and got none. “It’s very valuable, and you shall help me find it.”

Caspian was willing to bet that the mirror he’d picked up at the garage sale wasn’t the one the Grey wanted, otherwise they wouldn’t be having this one-sided conversation. The Grey would have merely taken it and left. This Grey knew about the Window. Was he the one Dylis had warned about? However, the Grey didn’t know that Caspian knew as much about the Court as he did.

“What does it look like?” If he spoke carefully and gave no real answers, perhaps the Grey would leave, perhaps Dylis would show up… hell, perhaps his father would show up and kill the Grey. All unlikely outcomes. The best he could hope for was politely refusing and hoping the Grey left without doing more damage.

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t need you, would I?” The Grey took a couple of paces and kicked a chipped cup. It spun across the tiles and smashed against the wall sending shards across the kitchen floor.

Caspian’s fingers curled at his side, but he forced himself to remain still. He couldn’t react. The Grey was trying to goad him.

“What makes you think I’ll help you?” Caspian knew he was on dangerous ground, baiting the Grey, but he wouldn’t stand for such a blatant invasion in his home.

Before Caspian could even track the movement, the Grey had closed the distance and snagged a handful of Caspian’s hair.

Caspian bit back a curse but didn’t struggle. If he got angry, he’d make mistakes and he couldn’t afford to make mistakes with this Grey. This close he could see the fine lines of desperation etched around the man’s eyes. The too sharp jut of his cheekbones. Recently banished but trying to hold onto his looks and power.

A human would have looked into those pale bottomless eyes and done whatever was asked of them. The magic slid over Caspian’s skin and fell away without leaving a trace. He drew in a breath and looked steadily back. He wouldn’t show even a glimmer of fear, even though his stomach writhed with ice-cold snakes.

“You will help me because you don’t have a choice.” The Grey glared at him, and again Caspian felt the shimmer of magic as the Grey tried to enchant him.

This time the magic didn’t roll away quite so easily. If the Grey kept going there was a chance Caspian’s defenses would crack. And he’d thought all that time with Dylis learning how to be safe around fairies was a waste. Now he wished he’d paid greater attention and been a better student instead of just doing enough to get her off his back. As he stared down the Grey, Caspian was sure he could see subtle changes; a deepening of the lines, a dulling of his skin, and a fraying of his clothing. Every time the Grey tried to enchant him, every time he used magic, he was losing a little more. Soon he would have to choose. Stature or looks or power—and even then a Grey couldn’t live forever. Cut off from the magic of the Court, they were condemned to a powerless and slow and ugly death. The thing all fairies feared.

Caspian waited until the Grey stopped trying to enchant him, then he crossed his arms and smiled like he