Belle’s Quest (Fairytale Bureau #3)

Chapter 8

8

Slogging ashore, we must have looked quite the sight. Bedraggled, me in my stretched clothes, Gerome with his spear, and Hannah clomping in her water-laden boots. It probably explained why we were met at the top of the bluff by a pair of Fairytale Bureau agents.

“Stop right there!” shouted a portly fellow with an impressive mustache.

Hannah didn’t listen and strode for the mustache man and his female companion with the buzz-cut blonde hair.

“I said halt.” The man pulled his weapon, and Hannah, without missing a step, spun her foot and knocked it from his hand.

“None of that,” she snapped. “It’s been a long night. I’m Grimm Knight Hannah, and this is my partner, Grimm Knight Gerome.” Funny how none of the Knights ever used a last name. I’d heard rumor it was because of their initiation, which had them cast their past lives aside.

The blonde agent kept her hand on the butt of her gun. “If you’re a Knight, then prove it.”

Hannah dug into her soggy pocket and pulled out her metal badge. “Satisfied? Good,” she stated before the agents could reply. “I’m going to require transportation and accommodation.”

“Just a minute. Who are these two?” The mustache agent pointed at me and Killian.

I swear Hannah looked absolutely feral as she bared her teeth and stated, “This is the Crown Prince of Corsica and his wife. Now, are you going to start moving your asses, or do I need to escalate with someone higher up? I’m sure the Queen of Corsica will be delighted to hear how you’re treating her son. Not to mention, the diplomatic issues that will mostly arise, given his plane was attacked by three dragons that came from your coast.”

“And you survived?” the blonde blurted out with surprise.

“Not all of us. Our pilot didn’t make it.”

“I’m surprised the dragons didn’t finish you off.” Mustachio didn’t get the hint to not screw with Hannah.

“Bah. I killed two of them, and the third chose to not stick around to join them.” Gerome’s claim widened their eyes.

“Uh. We won’t all fit in the car,” Mustachio stammered.

“We will. You won’t. We’re confiscating your vehicle. Call someone to pick you up.” Hannah held out her hand and waited.

The blonde didn’t argue, simply dropped the keys into her waiting palm.

“I’ll drive. Your Highnesses will sit in the back.” Hannah marched off, but Killian paused a moment to say, “Corsica thanks you for your aid.”

Rank did have some privilege, and I might have felt bad at stranding the agents, but the warmth inside the car did much to dispel my shivering, as did Killian’s arm around my shoulders tucking me into his body.

“Where are we going?” he asked as Hannah sped away from the beach.

She glanced at Gerome. “Where’s the nearest hotel?”

The man had his phone out, the waterproof case having survived his dunk in the sea. “No hotel. There’s a safe house on the outskirts of Padstow. It’s not too far from here.”

Hannah glanced at us in the rearview mirror. “Safe house it is, then. We can rest and re-equip ourselves while planning our next move.”

“Our next move is heading to Ashbrittle.” I reminded them of our destination. “How far is the safe house from it?”

“A couple of hours,” Gerome muttered.

“Shouldn’t we just drive there directly?” A few hours meant we were close.

“We were just attacked by dragons. So, no, we are not heading there, not until we’ve had a chance to load up on weapons, eat, and change out of these wet clothes. If the curse is trying to foil us, we’ll probably face another attack soon.” Hannah pointed out the obvious, and I could have kicked myself for not thinking clearly.

“We’ll also need to contact my mother before she sends out an army to look for me,” Killian added.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Hannah replied.

“Please, I think we’ve been through enough that you can call me by my first name.”

Hannah inclined her head. “If you insist.”

“Speaking of being through a bunch of stuff, anyone else hungry?” Killian asked.

I tilted my head to stare at him. “Seriously?”

He shrugged. “What can I say? All that commotion gave me an appetite.”

“We are not stopping for food. We’ll fetch something once we reach the safe house.” Hannah didn’t give in to his bottomless stomach.

Safe house proved to be a misnomer, seeing as how we pulled to a stop in front of a castle. “This is where we’re hiding? A castle doesn’t seem too subtle.” I couldn’t help but speak my mind.

“We don’t need subtle, we need secure, and it’s a manor house, not a castle,” Hannah corrected.

Maybe to her, but to my American brain, the massive stone edifice sure seemed impressive.

We arrived to find the main doors closed, but I spotted movement on the roof. Someone aimed a rifle in our direction, but the Knights didn’t seem bothered by it.

Hannah waved. “Hey, Clive.”

“Hannah, is that you?” a man shouted.

“In the soggy flesh. Got room for the crown prince of Corsica and his wife?”

“He’s alive?” Clive exclaimed. “Jeezus, his mother has been lighting up all the emergency channels looking for news of him since the jet lost contact.”

Killian glanced at me. “Told you so.”

“Mama’s boy,” I muttered in reply.

“I’m coming down.” Clive disappeared from the roof and, in short order, led me and the prince to a massive bedchamber, with one bed, but I ignored that fact in favor of the hot shower, which Killian insisted I use first while he contacted his mother. I didn’t argue. Terrible water pressure, and not as scorching as I would have liked, but it did much to dispel the clammy from my skin.

I emerged wearing an oversized towel to find my husband, er, Killian, lying sprawled on the bed, a cell phone to his ear.

“No, Mother. I already told you I’m not coming home yet.” He glanced at me and rolled his eyes. “I am not cutting my honeymoon short.”

He’d obviously not told her of our mission.

“My wife is fine. We are both uninjured and eager to get started on making you the royal babies you keep bugging me for.”

While I knew he said that to placate his mom, my cheeks still heated.

“No, I don’t need you to come join us. I’m afraid we’d be poor company, as I have no intention of us leaving the room for anything other than food.”

My face burned even hotter.

“Love you too, Mother. Bye.” He sighed as he hung up.

“That sounded like fun.”

“My mother loves me a tad too much. Do you need to call someone?” He offered the phone.

“I’ve got no family. My mother died when I was born, and Dad passed a few years ago. ”

“Sorry to hear that.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t be. My dad and I weren’t close. I mean he did his best, but his idea of caring for me involved cutting my hair very short since he hated brushing it, handing me money to buy my own clothes, and forgetting to make us dinner because he got lost in some ancient book. As for not having a mom”—I shrugged—“hard to miss what I never had.” Not entirely true. I’d often wistfully wondered what it would have been like.

“My mom was the opposite and meddled in everything about my life, if from afar.”

“Too busy ruling Corsica,” I surmised.

“That was only part of it. While overseeing the kingdom kept her occupied, she always found time to talk to me every day. At a young age, she had me shipped to a farm so I could have a normal childhood. I went to public school, on foot, I should add. I did chores around the farm. It wasn’t until I graduated from university that I got dragged into the palace drama.”

“But you knew you were a prince growing up?”

“Yeah, that was never a secret from me, just my classmates and their parents. At the time, I didn’t really think much about it.”

“And now?”

“Kind of wish I could go back to being a farmer. There is something satisfying about planting crops and harvesting. Of milking a cow for fresh milk.” A wistful tone hued his statement.

“I guess your upbringing explains your love of casualwear.”

He glanced at himself, currently wearing a navy blue track suit that he must have borrowed. “Regular clothes are more comfortable than a suit or uniform. With jeans and cotton shirts, there’s no one nattering at you for the wrinkles in your pants or the stain on your shirt.”

I cocked my head. “I don’t suppose you grabbed some extra clothes for me?” I still hugged the towel around my body.

“I am such a cad. Yes.” He sprang from the bed and strode to a chair with a pile. “The sizing won’t be great, but they’re warm.”

I returned to the washroom to change into the oversized garments and emerged to find him chatting with Hannah, also dressed in a track suit. A tray laden with dishes sat on the table.

“Food,” she declared. “As ordered.”

“Mmm. Stew. Bread. Pickles. And wine!” Killian held up the bottle with a smile.

Always happy. How did he do it?

I joined him and Hannah to eat and listen.

Hannah carried the first part of the conversation .

“So we’re currently in a Knight-managed safe house. This manor is meant to withstand attack. The windows all have bars. The walls are stone. The roof is slate tile. Meaning pretty much impervious to dragon fire. It’s also situated on hallowed ground. The blessing seems to do a decent job of repelling some of the Grimm Effect.”

“So I won’t turn back into a beast?” I really didn’t want to go through that again.

“Active curses aren’t affected, but things like bespelled rats, giggling gingerbread men, or fiddling cats don’t seem to be able to make their way onto the grounds or into the house. You should be safe in this room, but just in case, Gerome and I will take turns bedding down in front of your door.”

“Inside or outside?” Killian clarified.

“Inside. The doors are too thick for us to break down quickly.”

“Guess no hanky-panky tonight, then,” he said with a long-suffering sigh.

I jabbed him with my elbow. “Your mom isn’t here. No need to pretend.”

“Who says I’m pretending?” he quipped. “Crazy idea, but have you thought about how our marriage could be beneficial?”

“In what respect?” I asked, rather than laughing in his face.

“Because if we stay a couple, then that would mean no more women and loose shoes for me and no beasts for you.”

“Assuming the curse accepts our fake marriage. Also, you seem to have forgotten what happened to me last night.”

“You’re back to normal now,” he pointed out.

“Now being the key word. I might change back, again.” I had a feeling we’d find out at dusk. Not all versions of Beauty and the Beast were the twenty-four-seven kind. I’d seen some that furred out by day, others that fanged out at night. No one could predict or understand why the beast mode affected some people differently. I was also the first female version, so who knew what I should expect?

“If it helps, I always wanted a cat. We can’t have one in the castle. Mother is allergic.”

I blinked at him then looked at Hannah to mutter, “Did he just call me a kitty?”

“Well, you do have claws,” she replied dead-pan, reaching for some more bread.

“This marriage thing…” I waved my own chunk of gluten as I tried to express myself without completely shoving my foot in my mouth. “Let’s say I agreed. Won’t your mother expect babies?”

“Yes. ”

“Kind of hard without sex.” I tried and failed to hold in a blush as I spoke bluntly.

“Who says we wouldn’t have sex?”

I choked on my bite of bread, and Hannah gave me a vigorous pounding while Killian handed me my wine glass for a big gulp. As if a sip would be enough. I chugged, refilled my glass, and drank some more before wheezing, “You’re talking about making this a real marriage.”

“What other kind would it be?” he replied, looking innocent but for the spark of humor in his eyes.

“I assumed you meant in name only, not that you wanted the whole shebang.”

“Okay, then to make it clear, I propose we make this a real marriage, which means googly eyes as we stare at each other, hand holding, copious lovemaking that might result in kids, snuggling in bed and all.”

My heart just about stopped. “Uh…” Yeah, I didn’t have a reply, mostly because my mind suddenly flashed to what he proposed, and my pulse started pounding.

Hannah rose abruptly. “I’m going to check on Gerome. Be right back.” Hannah suddenly bolted, and I wanted to follow, yet at the same time, I wanted to hear more.

“Why me? We barely know each other.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I know you’re smart. Brave. Beautiful.” He ticked off compliments, and I drank more wine because, quite honestly, it was that or slink under the table. He listed way more positive things about me than I could have named.

At the end of his spiel, I blurted out, “But what about love?”

Killian leaned back in his seat and regarded me. “My parents had their marriage arranged, and I will be honest, they didn’t love each other. Not at first, but they did have great respect and affection that turned into love. We’re already at the respect part, and if you’re worried about a spark, I assure you, you get my motor running.” He winked.

I tingled, and my mouth went dry. “You say that now, but what if you meet someone and fall in love while married to me?”

“Won’t happen.”

“You can’t know that.”

He drummed his fingers on the table. “Actually, I can. If you’re worried I’d cheat or ditch you, don’t. I am not that kind of man. What say you, wifey poo? Shall we give this marriage a real go?”

He wanted an answer now? “Can I think about it?”

“Of course. On one condition.”

“What condition?” I asked suspiciously.

“I want us to share a kiss so I can prove we have chemistry. ”

I already knew we did. “We already smooched at our wedding.”

“That wasn’t a real kiss, and you know it.”

He had a point. I’d been so nervous at the time. Still, what he asked… I hesitated, not because I didn’t want to kiss the prince but because I wanted to. I liked him, and I knew from past experience, that didn’t end well. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“You worry I’ll become a beast.”

I nodded.

“Then we’ll be able to commiserate.”

“This isn’t a joke. Being a beast will impact your life. Especially if you turned into the twenty-four-hour version.”

“Would that be so bad? It would get me out of silly political theater.”

“Your mom would murder me.”

“No, she’d have someone else do it. She hates getting her hands dirty.”

I pursed my lips. “Is this situation a joke to you?”

“No. This is one of the more serious things I’ve contemplated.” His expression matched his tone.

“Contemplated?” I snorted. “We got married like not even two days ago.”

“Two very interesting days,” he countered. “With you, there is no pretense. You don’t treat me like royalty. You call me out when I’m being blasé. You aren’t afraid to speak up for yourself, which will be necessary with my mother. She can be a tad overbearing.”

“Way to sell the marriage idea,” my dry reply.

“I have every faith you can handle her.”

“You’re talking about me leaving my life, and my job, behind.”

“That would be unavoidable, but in good news, the castle does have a library with room to move your books, and you’d be able to purchase as many more as you like. Once we replace the jet, you could visit or have your friends over anytime you desired. As for your employment, you would be my princess, eventually queen, with more than enough tasks to keep you busy.”

I grimaced. “Yeah, that’s not a selling point.” What I didn’t add was he did have me intrigued. I’d given up on the idea of marriage and having a family. Could we make this work? I did enjoy his company, despite his always-cheerful attitude. “What would you get out of it, other than a lack of shoes being dropped every time you turn around?”

“A partner I can respect. A person I can count on.”

“I know nothing of royal protocol.”

“Another selling point if you ask me. I don’t want or need someone flighty by my side, nor someone raised to be pampered and snobby.”

“Ah, so you like me because I’m a commoner.”

“You are far from common, wifey poo.” His smile melted my insides but I held strong.

I rolled my eyes. “Calling me that isn’t the way to convince me.”

“What will?”

I almost said him loving me, which, again, would be too much to expect this soon. I couldn’t even say I loved him, but I did like him, more than expected.

“I’ll think about it.” I held up a finger. “But no kissing, yet. Let’s see first how we do together before I possibly turn you into a beast.”

He nodded. “My wife wants to be wooed. Understandable.”

“Woo? What?”

“I shall highlight my many awesome attributes while doing my best to show you how compatible we would be together.”

“Show me how?” A suspicious lilt to my query.

He smiled. A panty-wetting version as he purred, “You’ll see. Now, shall we explore the manor? I don’t know about you, but I like to know where the exits are, as well as the pantry.”

“Plotting how you’re going to sneak in for a midnight snack.”

“Afternoon, actually, and probably early evening.”

I shook my head. “Good thing you’re a prince and not a Hansel. That witch would have fattened you up for cooking in no time.”

“I wonder if her food was any good,” he mused aloud. He stood from the table and held out his arm. I slid my hand into the crook of it, a tingle going through me at the simple touch. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way. Husband.”

Weird how it sounded so right.