Rumpel's Prize (Kingdom, #8)

When the man wasn’t snarling, he was extremely pleasant to chat with. And as much as she enjoyed Dalia’s company, Shayera had secretly always wondered what genteel male attention outside of her own family might be like.

Screwing up her courage, she began. “Mother was curious too; they discovered my affliction when I was five, apparently. We asked Danika what it was, the palpable energy that leaked out of me. My father and those of my own blood, like Briley and Uncle Kelly, are not affected by it, but they noticed how grown males looked at me. Anyone under the age of eighteen did not seem to be affected, which is why, of course they allowed me to play with Hamish as they did. I’m not sure why my magic suddenly seized him, despite his being only fourteen.” She shrugged.

“And Danika said?” He prompted.

She smiled. “Why are you so curious about me, Rumpel? Why the sudden inquisition?”

Clapping the railing one final time, he jerked his head and began leading her toward the island. “You intrigue me. Very little does anymore.”

“Hmm.” Stepping onto the island was a delight. The grass was thick and as lush as any carpet. Wanting to feel it on her feet, she slipped off her sandals and sighed when she wiggled her toes into the soft blades.

A large cream blanket manifested beneath the tree, and sitting, Rumpel patted the spot beside him. “Come.”

Because he didn’t sound demanding, she sat. But she kept herself to the opposite end of the blanket. Regardless of how this was going, she’d keep her distance. Safer that way.

Drawing his knees to his chest, he swiped up a fallen blossom and handed it to her, almost absentmindedly, but when she reached for it he hung on so that their fingers grazed. Just a slight touch, but enough to make sparks shoot out. Gasping, she yanked her hand back, cradling it to her chest. She should chastise him.

Grinning crookedly, he dropped the beautiful cream-and-pink petal onto her lap, but didn’t apologize for what he’d done. She knew he’d done it on purpose; Rumpel didn’t seem the type to make mistakes; everything he did he did was with deliberation and thought.

“You promised.” She licked her lips, mouth grown suddenly dry.

Holding up his hands, he chuckled. “Forgive me. I do try, Carrot, but I can only be so good.” With a wink, he flicked his wrist. “Finish your tale.”

“Sirens can be made, as Danika soon told us. Father’s dalliance with a river nymph caused his DNA, as my mother calls it”—she met his gaze for a quick second—“to permanently alter, ensuring that any future children they had would be cursed. Of course I’m sure the nymph didn’t see it as such, and when you can live in a river and run away from the predatory advances of filthy males, I can see where they consider it fun. For me, it’s been nothing but a trial. I’m not nymph enough to breathe below water and so I suffer on land. Once my parents discovered that reality, they knew I would be their first and last child.”

“But boys aren’t affected; they could have tried for more.”

Running her fingers along the grass, she lifted a knee and dropped her cheek to it. “No, but they had no assurance they’d get anything other than another girl. And I’ve had a good life, all things considered. Having Briley around was a lot like having a sibling anyway. I lost nothing.”

“The boy I met? He was a child—is he the same one you speak of?” With a flick of his fingers, a large bronze bowl appeared, brimming over with large, purple grapes. “Hungry? Eat.” He pointed, snapping one fat globe off the stem and popping it into his mouth.

Shaking her head, she drew up her other leg and wrapped her arms around them. “Yes, he’s the same boy, but he is off-limits. And anyway, I think it’s time you told me about yourself. Fair is fair.”

Plucking up another bloom, he began to strip one petal off at a time. Shayera was surprised how constant the blooms fell, and yet they weren’t drowned in flowers, almost as if a gentle breeze stirred at just the right moment to carry them away on the stream. There was a magical, very surreal atmosphere to this garden and she knew it was all Rumpelstiltskin’s doing.

“There isn’t much to tell,” he finally said.

“Dalia tells me you’re a prince. Not every day I get to come across an honest to goodness man of the crown.”

Snorting, he flicked the flower off his finger. “The chit needs to learn to control her tongue better. Who I was has no bearing on who I am now.”

He might believe that, but she didn’t. For one, there was a regality about Rumpel she’d noticed immediately, a manner of bearing that few could learn to master unless taught it from birth. It was in his cold aloofness, how he walked and talked, as a man used to giving orders and having them obeyed immediately.

“What happened, if I can ask? What made you leave Delerium and come here?”