Escaping Destiny (The Fae Chronicles, #3)

“Best surprise.”


“I knew you loved the lacquer, and I’m trying, Pet. It’s not safe for you to go home while your brother is hunting you, but this was something I could do. Ristan has history with Arista, so he reached out and made sure she could help. So, how do you plan on thanking me?” he asked with a boyish grin.

“Nice try, Fairy. I still need time to think,” I replied. “Maybe I’ll thank you later, in a way we can both enjoy.”

“I like that idea,” he purred.

“I didn’t say drop your pants and get naked. I said later; as in not right now,” I replied as he took a calculated step toward me, only to stop at my words.

“Pet,” he growled.

“Fairy,” I smiled.

“I don’t like to be kept waiting,” he replied.

“Neither do I, so I guess you better get to figuring out how to void that contract.”





Chapter Thirty-Two





I spent a few days learning more about the Demon. Not by choice, but because he said he had been getting erratic visions about the Mages and my brother, Faolán, that he couldn’t pinpoint. So he, which really meant Ryder, wanted to make sure I was safe at all times, so I got stuck with over six and half feet of Demon as a babysitter. Well, they called it extending his duties as a bodyguard.

At least he made it interesting, and instead of cooping me up and making me crazy, it looked like he and Ryder must have discussed entertainments for me other than ‘spin the Fairy’ and my days weren’t as boring as a result.

In the mornings, he would escort me to Zahruk, who would spend an hour sparring with me. Nothing too strenuous, though, because of the babies. But I got some payback of my own for that little stabbing incident a while back. For some reason, Darynda and the rest of my handmaiden posse begged to go to these workout sessions (personally, I think it was to see Zahruk and any of the other guards that might have been working out in the armory without their shirts on.)

Darynda would not take her eyes off of Zahruk, and Meriel didn’t just track Ryder like he was dinner; all of the males were a buffet to her. I found out the first day of our sessions that she was half-Nymph and she was always hungry, or so it seemed.

After sparring, he would escort me to one of the many libraries where we would meet up with Dristan, who would bring out all sorts of dusty books and scrolls to help me understand Fae history and politics. It seemed that he had more talents than just being a flirt, and he was hoping that Ryder would utilize him as more of an ambassador. He was also very protective of the books in the libraries, and treated them like treasures. I learned a lot from these two as sessions usually devolved in them arguing about one topic in history, or another. Although they both dodged questions about how old they were, it seemed that for some of this history, one or both of these two were present as they were both part of Alazander’s guard before they were part of Ryder’s. I wasn’t sure why my handmaiden posse would always scatter, and seemed to have other things to do when history or politics were involved.

Adam had returned to the Dark Kingdom with the promise to return soon, and I did not see Adrian now that the trial was over. The trial had taken both Adrian and Vlad out of Tèrra for over two weeks, and they had to get back to their duties of monitoring the Mages. It seemed that the Mage activity had not slowed down there, even with the increase of more Mage trouble here in Faery. It was an indication that there might be a lot more of them than Ryder had initially suspected.

This afternoon Ristan had been entertaining me with classic movies—since we had Fae-per View, which was way better than Pay-per View. He could think of a movie, and it would play on the wall like a projector.

He bet me that I couldn’t beat him at chess, so I had the first time, at least. He’d won the second, and I’d won the third. Each had a price…and we got to choose what it was. I planned on tormenting him with chick flicks, and indulging in some perfect girl time, since he insisted on babysitting me.

We watched Beaches first, which backfired. I bawled my eyes out and he patted my back awkwardly. He made me watch Goonies next, which with his reciting each of the characters’ dialogue in a replicated voice, had me rolling with laughter. He was a sport and painted my nails, which in the end looked like I had allowed a one year old to go wild on my digits.

“You are the worst nail painter, ever,” I said, holding my hand up to inspect it.

“Who’s the idiot that wanted me to paint their nails? And shit, this stuff stinks like Pixie farts,” Ristan complained.

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