“You’re highly prized. Coveted. And powerful, just like a genie.”
He looked a little mollified. “I suppose I am. In fact, when combined with the strong magic of a Domicile like Violet House, I am very much like a genie.” He wrinkled his nose. “Except I am infinitely better looking.”
“I bet the Queen is going to be mad when she finds out you’re gone.” I was just trying to make him feel better, but for my sake, I hoped the answer was no.
“Oh, she’s going to be furious!”
Damn.
“I am one of her most precious things, afoilynre ey bateromont,and a duocorn, too. I could have been a present for a foreign tyrant that she wanted to appease, or a very expensive gift of appreciation for a powerful ally, or a dowry for one of the future princes or princesses. Instead, the Heir had me stolen from the treasury and bonded to…” He waved his hoof dismissively. “You.”
I glanced over at Donovan. He was still looking out the window. He didn’t turn.
There was a long moment of silence. “Am I in danger?”
All three of them answered simultaneously. “Yes.”
“The Queen is the least of your worries, Chosen,” Cecil said, fussily smoothing down the dress and fixing the straps to fall over my shoulders. “She cannot do anything now that Prince Donovan has gifted me to you.”
I spoke to Donovan’s back. Too late, I realized he wasn’t being rude; he’d turned away while I was undressing. “What will she do to you?”
He let out a rough breath. “Nothing. My mother andfather have instructed me to do whatever I have to get Connor to stop what he’s doing and come home.”
Something about his tone gave me pause. There was an edge of hurt in his words. “Just the four of you?”
“It did not have to be me personally, but I felt it was my duty.” He didn’t turn, but after a second, he nodded. “Discretion is necessary.”
I understood. Donovan’s spoiled brat brother was on a power trip, and Donovan had been sent to quietly reel him in. Despite the fact that Connor’s actions could destroy countless realms, hobble multiple different species of magical creature, and turn him into an overpowered tyrant who could destroy the very fabric of all the Worlds, his parents—who sounded like elitist assholes themselves—wanted Donovan to take care of it quietly.
Bart threw the last of his martini back and got up out of the armchair reluctantly. “As much as I want to hang around and see the results of your makeover, Susan, I have to go. Mikhael wants to go to the ballet tonight.”
“Thanks for coming over, Bart,” I said warmly. I had no idea who Mikhael was. Bart had an endless parade of beautiful young men and women he went out with on weeknights when he wasn’t babysitting me. “And thanks for… you know.” I waved my hand in the air. “Everything.”
He kissed me on both cheeks. “I have to be nice to you now, you’re my landlord.” He chuckled.
A blush warmed my cheeks. “Well. Guess who is going to be living rent-free from now on?”
Bart patted my shoulder. “I wasn’t paying rent anyway,” he said smugly. “It’s not my lease. Gavin and Montero have a contract in Barcelona for the year, I’m just housesitting for them.” He smiled at me fondly. “I’m so glad. You deserve it all, Susan.” He turned and bowed toDonovan. “Your Highness.” He moved back upright, suddenly uneasy. “I know I don’t have to?—”
“She will be safe, Shifter,” Donovan said, his voice cold. He didn’t turn. The Prince was back to brooding-mode. “I will see to it.”
“Er. Good,” Bart said. “Have a great night.” He looked around the massive room. “How do I get out of here again? Is it through those white and gilt carved doors or the marble archway over there beside the Ming vase filled with the blush peonies?”
“Come,” Donovan said. “I will guide you back to your apartment.” They walked out; Bart, lumbering like a big teddy bear, and the Prince, just as tall, but moving like a warrior, like a tiger stalking through the jungle, with a barely contained tension simmering inside of him. I understood why he left. He needed to move.
Cecil finished fussing with my draped straps, jumped on top of the ottoman and ran a critical eye over me. “I think that’s perfect. I was right all along—the red one was the best.”
I knew it the second I’d seen it; that’s why I told him to get it. He had been planning on making me try on a dozen other dresses. I decided to let that one go. “Oh, it is.”
“I just need to do your hair and makeup.”
I groaned. Getting dolled up was fun, but I always resented the time it took. Full glam makeup took hours. Life was too short to sit with my eyes half-shut so my mascara wouldn’t smudge before it dried. And the fun of getting glammed up sort of dwindled as you got older—cakey makeup sank into little wrinkles, making them seem even deeper, and lipstick feathered out from lips that were just a little less plump than they’d been ten years ago. “Just a little, please, Cecil.”
He whipped open the case behind him—trays and trayof pallets, with every shade of lipstick and eyeshadow and blush you could think of in shimmers, mattes, sparkles, and nudes. Creams and powders and liquids in perfectly clean little bottles. A hundred soft brushes of every size and shape. The sixteen-year-old girl within me let out a squeal of glee.
“Stay still,” he ordered, brandishing two brushes stuck between each hoof. “Actually. You better close your eyes for this. You’re new to this, and I don’t want you freaking out.”
I lowered my lids dutifully. A blast of air hit my face, a flurry of movement whirling in front of me.
