The wreckage of the gatekeeper’s cottage and the manor house. She had barely gotten the chance to fall in love with the property. Now it lay in ruins.
Nikolas’s mouth, his hands, the sensation of taking him into her body. The passionate clench he had held her in as he had moved, and moved, and moved inside her.
As soon as I get you out of my system, I’m gone.
The storm of tears wracked her body. She was as helpless to stop it as a woman giving birth.
It’s okay, she thought. I’m just wrung out. I’m overwrought.
I’m heartbroken.
I’ll get some food. I’ll pull it together. Food and maybe a nap, and I’ll feel like a new person.
From nearby came a shimmer of familiar, wild magic. She lifted her head as the door to her suite opened and closed. Pulling off the towels, she tore into her clothes and burst out of the bathroom and into the tiny sitting area.
An inhumanly slim figure stood at the windows, looking out. He was perhaps as tall as a thirteen-year-old boy and wore skinny jeans, boots, a brown leather jacket, and a navy blue scarf with gold buttons. He had spiky, nut-brown hair and pointed ears.
Wiping her cheeks, she asked, “Robin?”
The figure turned. The puck had a thin, triangular old/young face, fiery, wild eyes, and when he smiled, he showed too many teeth. “Robin brought you cake, dear love.”
As the puck stepped forward, she plunged blindly across the room and threw her arms around him. More stupid tears fell. He pulled back to wipe them from her face, and she saw that he had too many fingers as well.
“I’m sorry, I’ve sprung a leak this morning,” she muttered. “You look—you look—”
“Healed,” the puck said. “Whole.”
Her attention fell to his scarf. The material and the gold buttons were familiar. She fingered one of the buttons. “You made this out of the jacket?”
“I wear a kindness around my neck,” Robin told her. “When the cage threatens to take over my mind, I touch my scarf and remember I am free.”
“I’m so glad,” she whispered. She straightened the scarf around his neck unnecessarily and smoothed it over his narrow chest.
“I’ve come to say good-bye.” Robin laid his hands over hers.
“Oh no, not good-bye,” she echoed in dismay. Just as she fell in love with things, she seemed doomed to lose them. “Are you going back to Lyonesse?”
“No home for Robin,” he said. “Not yet. I go to create mischief for a Queen and her cruel Court. I aim to strike a blow at the very heart of her strength. It will be tricky. There are strings to pull, while I am just a puck. I have no true power over what rules the hearts of others, but I do know what power will bring about her downfall. We old ones play our games of war and dominance, and we forget, you see. We forget how much strength is in the heart, and how much can be transformed and defeated by love. Lord, we’re fools.”
“It sounds dangerous,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to go.”
He kissed her cheeks. “Don’t worry, dear love. They tricked me once; they won’t capture me again. I will come to visit when I can.”
“Promise?”
“Always, Sophie.” He smiled, looking both gentle and feral at once. “Enjoy your cake.”
He slipped out of the suite like a shadow. Sophie stood, listening to the emptiness in the room. Then she noticed the cardboard box on the coffee table. Sitting on the edge of the sofa, she opened the lid.
Inside, there were tiny cakes, iced and decorated with impossible colors and fantastic shapes of spun sugar and fondant. Delicate magic rose with the aroma of sugary goodness. Her mouth watered. Selecting a lavender confection, she popped it in her mouth. It was utterly delicious and melted with a tinkle of magic that spread through her body, smoothing away aches and pains, and leaving behind a feeling of refreshment and well-being.
Holy cow. What a rare, delightful gift. Briefly she struggled to hold back and not eat them all at once, but she had grown too hungry and she couldn’t help herself. She fell on the cakes and consumed every last one.
When she had finished, she felt like she could face the world again. First things first. She checked her phone, and it was completely dead. Of course it was. The fucking fucker.
She needed to buy a new phone. She should also call Paul to give him an update on what had happened to the property. She needed to find out what might happen to the entailment if the house collapsed. Maybe she should just swing by his office to talk to him in person.
Digging out his card, she used the suite phone to call the office. When Paul’s secretary Trevor answered, she said, “Hi, this is Sophie Ross. Is Paul available?”
“Sophie!” Trevor exclaimed. “Paul has been trying to ring you. Where are you?”
“I’m in Shrewsbury,” she told him. “I… actually, I’m not entirely sure where I am. I was pretty out of it when I checked in yesterday. I’m in a hotel near one of the bridges.”
“As there’s nine bridges here, that narrows it down to many,” Trevor said, humor evident in his voice. “Hold on, I’m transferring you now.”
She waited for the heartbeat it took to transfer, then Paul answered, exclaiming with every bit as much fervency as Trevor had, “Sophie! I’m so glad you rang. I’ve emailed and tried to ring you. Are you all right?”
“Sure, of course,” she said, bemused. “Listen, I need to talk to you.”
“I need to talk to you too. Between last night and this morning, I’ve taken about a dozen phone calls from the Dark Court. One of them is an absolute madman. And—are you sitting down?” he asked. “Because if you’re not, you might want to.”
An absolute madman. Oh dear. She felt behind her for the edge of the chair and lowered herself into it. “I am now.”
“The King’s cousin Annwyn—who, I guess, is now the regent since he’s fallen ill—has made quite an offer to buy the property. Sophie, she offered ten million pounds.”
“I—She what?” The world wobbled around her, and she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.
“You’re probably wondering if you heard me right,” Paul told her, laughing. “Forgive me for cackling like a lunatic, because I am, in fact, quite serious. The Dark Court wants to pay you ten million pounds for the Shaw family albatross, lock, stock, and barrel.”
“But Paul, the house is unlivable. It has cracks in its foundation, and it’s barely standing upright.”
“Prices for country estates in the UK are astronomical. Just the land alone is worth a great deal of money. To be honest, if you wanted to bargain with them, I think you could probably get them up to fifteen million.”
Fifteen. Million. Her mind refused to take that number in.
“Lock, stock, and barrel means the contents of the library too, right?” she replied faintly. “I had wanted to go through that.”
“Yes, they want the library too. At this point, it’s sight unseen, of course, but they feel there is some possibility they might find some useful information there. Apparently, the Shaws had worked in opposition to them in the past. Annwyn said they feel it’s worth the gamble financially. Between that, acquiring the annuity that goes with the house, and gaining control over a viable crossover passageway, she believes they’re offering fair market value.”
“I-I don’t know what to say,” she muttered.
On the one hand, she felt an inexplicable reluctance, but on the other, the property was now so damaged it bore none of the charms she had first enjoyed about it. Instead of having a viable living space, if she didn’t sell, she would be facing renovation bills she didn’t have the liquid resources to pay. And besides, the Dark Court had a legitimate claim and a very real need.