She’d requested a carpenter, and Kaysar had supplied her with the best. Someone able to make “kitty cities” and climbing posts for the royal feline, upon his arrival. The carpenter also built ramps for Pearl Jean’s “scooter.” Whatever that was.
Three days had passed since the raid. Kaysar and his queen made love at all hours, whispered in the dark and slept curled together every night. Having tasted of their connection, he could settle for nothing less than an eternity with her. He cherished every minute in her presence. More than he’d ever cherished anything.
The prince occupied his usual spot at the edge of the royal dais. Jareth stared at Chantel, his gaze intent.
That wouldn’t do.
Earlier, Kaysar did the unthinkable and showed the male a kindness. But then, this particular kindness had been for himself, as well. The prince had stunk, and Kaysar had allowed servants to bathe him.
When Kaysar rotated on his heel to approach the prince, Chantel swung around and patted his butt. He stopped for a moment, a smile flashing and vanishing. The things she did. He shook his head and crossed to the prince, winding through piles of goods awaiting her decision for permanent relocation.
“Look at my mistress, nesting,” he said to Jareth when he stood at the male’s side. “Creating a home for us.”
“You’re a prick,” the prince snapped.
“The great Frostline prince thinks poorly of me. However will I recover?”
To his great annoyance, Jareth got smug. “Enjoy her while you can. She doesn’t need to remember Lulundria to flee you. You’ll drive her away all on your own. I saw her face when you flittered to my father. You didn’t—because you weren’t here. That’s her war line. Your days with her are numbered.”
Rage. Unholy. Consuming. How dare the prince use his own fears against him. “You will not even speak of her.” Kaysar went low, grabbing and yanking Jareth’s ankles, smacking him to the floor. The crash shook the entire throne room.
Jareth remained stretched out, grinning at the ceiling. “Worth it.”
“Kaysar,” Chantel called, her gaze on a second statue, “be a dear and play with your toys outside today.”
Remove Jareth’s collar? Give the prince an opportunity to escape? How could she even suggest such a thing? But then, she’d made no secret of her desire to set the Frostline free. She’d softened for the prince.
Kaysar balled his fists. His woman and his foe, working together to make him crazed. He—What was that? Familiar eyes stared at him from a trunk.
Servants had dropped a beaten leather chest near Chantel’s feet, the lid falling off upon impact.
His heart stopped. He stomped over and swiped up a doll. It couldn’t be the doll. It. Couldn’t. But he knew every scuff and crack on this porcelain face. Had seen them in his memories a myriad of times.
Viori’s doll. Drendall. Kaysar clutched the little darling close. His sister had been here.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THE NEXT SIX days lasted six thousand years or six seconds. One or the other, and nothing in between, passing too swiftly and too slowly at once. All because Kaysar had found his sister’s doll, Drendall.
Forget being first or second place in Kaysar’s life. Cookie had been demoted to third.
He hadn’t left the castle, at least. Instead, he’d constantly hounded Amber about visions. Where was Micah right now? Why couldn’t/hadn’t/wouldn’t Eye see Viori? Where had Viori been throughout the ages? For her incompetence, did Eye prefer to die swiftly or linger?
Amber’s visions were currently on the fritz, and the oracle didn’t know why.
Unfortunately, Cookie’s abilities were on the fritz, too. Since the doll’s discovery, her doormaking power had stopped charging and started draining. Her dream of fetching Pearl Jean and Sugars floated beyond her reach.
Her life was topsy-turvy again. Because of a doll. She hated this. Kaysar made her feel things she’d never felt before. Wonderful, terrible, amazing, awful things. She’d fallen deeper. Too deep. And she was trying, trying so hard, to stop falling. She was doing everything in her power to hold a part of herself back. And he was helping her do it! But it didn’t matter. If they split, she’d...she’d...shatter.
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men, couldn’t put Cookie back together again.
She sometimes imagined marrying this man—without vomiting! She thought she might want to tweak his vengeance plan and start a family with him one day. They could be deliriously happy together. Kaysar at her side as she ruled the Dusklands. She might even help him lord over the Nightlands. But, deep down, he would be miserable the entire time. The hatred was eating him alive.
He’d asked for a chance to fix her problems. Why wouldn’t he give her a chance to fix his?
She knew she was special to Kaysar. Soon she thought he might do the impossible and...not forgive, but pardon Jareth for his part in their wretched past. The two had reached an uneasy accord. Oh, they swiped at each other, but they weren’t out for blood, either. They would never be friends, but they were almost done being enemies. No, the problem was Hador.
King Hador was the one Kaysar had linked with Viori and his retribution on her behalf. As long as the royal breathed, he posed a threat to Kaysar’s happiness. Cookie’s, too. Pearl Jean and Suggy’s, as well. Not to mention the debt Cookie owned Lulundria—to live her best life.
When Hador died, Kaysar’s hate would die with him. Finally, her dark king could heal.
How can I help him want to heal? He didn’t realize—or didn’t accept—that killing Hador meant dealing with Viori’s loss.
Cookie hurried toward the secret portal room she’d visited every day since unearthing it. Hadn’t taken her long to sniff out a second secret room, which had led to the discovery of another and another and another. Each room contained a mystical item—everything she’d hoped to find when they’d first entered the Dusklands.
A coin-filled hot spring. A full-length, freestanding mirror. A glass coffin. A telescope slash spyglass. Most of which mystified her. What could they do?
She’d also found an enchanted tree growing inside a pot. She knew because the branches dripped with elderseed. Had Kaysar done this with her bark? For her?
A grin flashed and fell, and she sighed. What was she going to do about that man?
Servants smiled, waved and bowed at her. Someone uttered “Our maddened queen” with affection.
Cookie pursed her lips. Yesterday she’d pouted to Kaysar, “The servants don’t like me.” He must have...spoken with them, encouraging better behavior.
Guess she would need to deliver another round of apology plants.