Chapter Five
Blake walked into the kitchens of the castle the next morning to see Christy, looking frantic, rummaging through cabinets. He asked, “Everything okay?”
She slammed a cupboard door shut. Her hair was mussed, and her face had a mark from the pillowcase, a small red line that rested along her right cheek. She looked beautiful, even when she had just woken up.
She gave him a wild-eyed stare and muttered out, “Coffee. Jesus Christ. Where is it? Where’s the pot?”
“We don’t drink it.”
She grabbed her chest and staggered backward. She croaked out, “What? No really. What do you mean you don’t drink it? Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure. It doesn’t agree with us.”
“My God,” she stumbled around in a few circles, muttering curse words. Then she stopped and asked, “The humans that live here? Do they drink it?”
He frowned. “I don’t really know. I avoid it, so I don’t pay much attention to that.”
She whimpered. Her hands went to her forehead, and she pushed at her skin with her thumbs. “Help.”
That last word was plaintive. He hid a grin. To think all he needed to fell this rather formidable woman was coffee. He said, “I could ask.”
She slid down the wall she stood in front of. Her bare feet were very pale and slender, the blue veins very prominent. For some reason the sight made his rod stiffen slightly. He looked away, fast. He said, “The cook should be here any minute. She’d know for sure, but honestly, I think you’re out of luck on the coffee situation.”
She levered herself back up the wall. She tugged at her hair with one hand. She gave him the most baleful look a woman had ever given him, and that was saying a lot. “How can you be so damned cheerful without coffee?”
“Probably because I don’t drink it.”
She bared her teeth at him. “Ugh. You’re probably right. Okay, what do you drink?”
“We have tea.”
“Tea.”
She made it sound like a dirty word. He moved past her and opened a cabinet. She peered into it. “I didn’t notice that cabinet at all. What is all that stuff?”
“Teas and tisanes. I think they are the same thing, but the herbalists among us insist they aren’t.” He fumbled around in the cabinet and produced a small metal box. “This is the strongest one. I know it’s not coffee, but I think it’s the closest we have, because, honestly, I doubt there’s any such thing as coffee floating around here.”
“Great. Now I wish I’d ordered an espresso. I would have, if I had known that there was none here. But then again, I had no way of knowing I would get snatched like that, so that’s…ugh. I can’t even. Not without some coffee.” She took the tin and stared at it, clearly baffled. “How do I make it?”
“Light the fire, set the kettle,” he suggested. The look on her face was so pitiful, he had to swallow back a laugh. He took the tin. “I’ll do it.”
She stared as he arranged wood in the stove. “Don’t you have power? I mean, there’s lights.” Her head went back, and she surveyed the ceiling. “Wait. I know I saw lights. So, where are they?”
He said, “It’s magic. They come on when it gets dark and go out in the daylight.”
“You’re shitting me.”
He blinked. He sure hoped he wasn’t. It sounded remarkably unpleasant. “Er, do you mean I am lying to you?”
“Pretty much.”
“No, it’s true. We have what we need.”
“Then why doesn’t the stove work on magic?”
“The humans prefer wood. It’s what they know. The lights scare them even though they have lived with magic all their lives.”
She asked, “Did you kidnap them too?”
