The Reluctant King (The Star-Crossed Series) Page 6

  “She doesn’t like you,” Ileana laughed smugly when she caught what held my attention. “And not for the reasons you think.”

  “So then why?” I asked, knowing I didn’t need to explain anything to the old woman or even ask her to explain what she thought was going on. Even if it wasn’t a vision, the woman saw and knew everything. I chalked it up to her mixture of intuitive humanity and useful magic.

  “Ah, but you cannot win her heart unless you find out for yourself,” she mused, taking a cup of something hot and steamy from a girl around the age of thirteen. She offered a tin cup to me as well, and I took it, not wanting to offend my hostess. Hot tuaca. Ugh. Hot alcohol was rarely good, but their potent moonshine was downright dangerous. I sniffed at the steaming clear liquid and found exactly what I was expecting: a sweeter version of gasoline.

  “I’m not sure if I want to win her heart,” I looked across the fire to where she sat on a set of wooden steps with Jericho. She was laughing at something he said and her expression was so soft and so happy that it made my heart ache for something; something I didn’t even know was missing.

  “Then you are a foolish man,” Ileana snapped, sitting up straighter in her seat. She was such a tiny woman, and I towered over her, it had never escaped my attention when she did her best to make herself bigger while hoping to intimidate me. “But, love makes us foolish too I suppose,” her tone softened.

  “Either way I lose?” I bit back my smile, thankful that this was not the subject of her vision.

  “Ah, you should decide that. But not tonight. Tonight you are not a king, you are a man. And you need to remember that. For men and kings have different needs and desires. And you are not one that indulges anything very often.” She sipped her tuaca, holding the steaming hot cup in her tiny, gnarled old hands. “You are like your grandfather in that way.”

  “Not my father?” I clarified, letting her observation fill me with pride.

  “No, you’re nothing like your father,” she grunted with a bark of a laugh. “Your father knew exactly what he wanted and went after it. You are nothing like him.”

  I felt the fullness of my pride deflate like a punctured balloon, squeaking out in a disappointing rush of emotion. I forced myself to take a drink of the scorching hot cup of liquid fire in my hands to keep myself from reminding her of how I went after the Monarchy, knowing that wasn’t what she was exactly talking about…. except I didn’t really know what she was talking about.

  Amelia stood up from across the fire, and as if she somehow knew my mood had changed she gave me a look of tight concern. I held her gaze, giving nothing away, but finding comfort in those warm, golden brown eyes that were at this moment, brighter than the flames burning the wood in front of me. She didn’t look away until a small child tugged at her hand and then she let herself be led to where I knew they would be cooking the meal for the evening.

  “Alright, enough reminiscing,” I cleared my throat and forced my mind back to business. “What is this vision you’ve had?” I demanded, only softening my tone for the old lady’s benefit slightly.

  “You’re not safe. Not anymore. Three years of peace, but they’ve been plotting and it’s your head they want next.” Ileana stated quickly, her eyes never leaving the fire.

  The breath was knocked from my lungs as if someone had dealt me a physical blow. This wasn’t a warning, this was the future. I gripped the hot cup in my hands tightly making the poisonous alcohol slosh over the sides of the tin cup onto my jeans.

  I knew this though. Instinctively, deep down inside of me I knew something like this was brewing. But having it said out loud by someone else, someone with a special insight, felt like nails being pounded into my premature coffin.

  My Kingdom was too new, too fragile for another civil war. They, whoever those heartless, stupid bastards were, would win just because my people were not stable enough to make the right decisions and see through their bullshit. Hell, they had voted for another king. Voted for it. When given the chance for ultimate, democratic freedom after thousands of years of oppression, prejudice and tyranny they had voted to be kept under someone else’s thumb! This was going to end badly.

  “Tell me what you know,” I turned to face her, demanding every bit of knowledge she could muster.

  Half of my short life had been spent fighting for something I desperately believed in and the beginning training for it. These bastards weren’t going to take down everything I had worked my ass off for over the last ten years without a fight.

  A damned good fight, I thought as my magic sparked vigorously in my veins, sending a rush of renewed and dormant energy through my body.

  Chapter Seven

  “Who are they, Ileana?” I asked in a carefully calculated voice. I felt the rage and frustration simmering in my blood, heating to a quick boil and threatening to explode.

  Are you Ok? Eden gasped into my consciousness. She felt the panic thicken my blood even though we had been keeping ourselves separated. It would have been the same for me though, if our roles were reversed.

  I’m fine. We’ll talk when I get back tonight. I forced myself to calm down, to admit to myself there was no immediate danger and I would stop the bastards before anyone was hurt. If I could control the situation, there was nothing to worry about. And I would control the situation.

  Avalon, you’re scaring me. Eden confessed gently between us.

  There’s nothing to be scared about. I promised, making myself mean it. We’ll talk later tonight.

  Eden closed the door to our shared mental consciousness again without asking anymore questions. I loved that about my sister. She never asked too many questions, or pried where she didn’t feel like she should. Granted, that trait had caused her a lot of trouble in the past, but she knew when to walk away.

  Ileana seemed to have waited for me to finish my internal conversation before she spoke again. I chewed my thumbnail viciously while listening to every single word she had to say.

  “For several months there have been visions…. visions of your future. Nothing has been clear, and nothing has been specific. But I have seen your struggles, the whispers of plotting and scheming that happen in far off places. I have felt how they hate you and your family and how they want the crown that you wear to be theirs. Their hatred runs deep, thick and poisonous through their blood. They have wanted the throne for a long time, longer than your young years. And they will stop at nothing until it is theirs. Their evil is worse than the one that came before you,” she finished in a raspy whisper that sent chills running over my body.

  A cold, unforgiving fear settled in my stomach. Worse than Lucan? How was that possible? And who were they?

  “You don’t know who they are?” I restrained myself to one question, although my tongue burned with the need to interrogate this woman like a suspect.

  “They have been nothing more than ghosts in the night,” she admitted sadly. “Until last night. Last night there was something more…. substantial. But you will not find them yet. They think they have bested you, they think they are still invisible.”

  “No, they think I am blind,” I growled. Both hating myself for becoming so apathetic over the past couple years and them for underestimating me.

  “They think you are blind,” she confirmed.

  “And you have nothing more than that? No location? Names? Family ties? Hell, I would even take rough descriptions at this point… Hair color, eye color, race?” I bit out, trying to not let Ileana feel like my anger was directed at her.

  “Nothing,” she said with finality.

  I believed her. I had no choice but to believe her, the same way I had to believe that her visions would somehow make their way into my reality. There were people out there that hated me, hated what I stood for and what I wanted to give my people. They hated Lucan before me and now that I stepped into his place I would be the one to deal with them.

  A small, miniscule, tiny part of me wondered if they hated me for good reason. Did t
hey have something better to offer? Was I the one that swooped in, destroyed years of tradition and a way of life and made things worse?

  No. I couldn’t believe that. Ok, I couldn’t let myself believe that. Doubt and insecurity were a result of restless boredom, not grounded in reality. Things were better for the community as a whole, and as soon as they released their grip on the past they would get even better.

  “I should get back,” I mumbled without making a move to get up.

  “Not yet,” Ileana demanded in her playful way again. Serious discussion over and she was back to her old mysterious, mischievous ways. “The evening is still young. And we have made you dinner.” She gestured toward the hut with a healthy stream of smoke puffing out a patchwork chimney.

  I looked longingly toward the delicious Romanian dinner I knew would make up for the now tepid volcanic-ash tasting beverage in my hands.

  “It does smell good,” I mumbled noncommittally.

  The young but married gypsy women started bringing out platters and pots of stew and setting them up on a long, rickety table in between two of the huts. Men descended on the table of food from every direction without being called, it was like they could hear the sound of cast iron pots being set down on rotting wood from miles away.

  I smiled as Amelia walked out of the hut being shooed by one of the older women. She held an extra-large pot in her towel-covered hands to keep from being burned. She laughed at whatever the old lady was saying and her bright smile had my lips turning up at her infectious personality. She set the pot down and then fussed around a few of the other entrees before stepping back and out of the men’s way.

  As soon as her hands were free and her feet at a safe distance from the mob of men swarming around the food, both of her hands were immediately clasped by two of the young children that had attached themselves to her shadow. She knelt down to their level, muddying her knees in the soft, leaf-covered ground and said happy things to them that made them laugh out loud. I shifted uncomfortably as another painful punch of longing ripped through my heart. I wasn’t even sure what I was longing for, I just knew I needed that charming smile directed at me.

  “I suppose you should get back to your castle, though?” Ileana brought me back with her voice as serious as ever. “They probably have dinner waiting for you there.”

  “Right,” I agreed, my eyes drifting back to Amelia as she stood up and brushed the dirt and leaves from her bare skin.

  “Of course then you’ll have to go back to being King,” Ileana said apologetically, but I knew better than to believe this gypsy queen was capable of sympathy. But manipulating me to get her way? She was more than capable of that. “And more importantly, she won’t be there.”

  I didn’t have to guess who she meant and before I gave my feet permission to move they were already walking towards Amelia without any intention of slowing down. I forced myself to hesitate and stop a foot away from her. I had no idea what my feet thought would be accomplished by running into her, but since my appendages were acting on their own accord tonight, I couldn’t really trust my hands to stay at my sides either.

  “It smells delicious, Amelia” I commented, drawing Amelia’s attention to me.

  She turned her head from overseeing the table of food and looked over me with barely concealed annoyance. “Thank you.”

  She turned back to the buffet line.

  “Are you going to get something to eat?” I asked and when she didn’t answer, I pressed my luck. “I could get you a plate if you would like? So you don’t have to fight the crowd?”

  She turned back to me, the infectious smile she wore for everyone else was long gone. “That’s alright Avalon, I can take care of myself.”

  “I never thought you couldn’t,” I defended softly. My hand reached for her elbow and I found myself leading her to the back of the line before I could stop myself. She bristled under my touch, but let me lead her without making a scene. I placed her in front of me and stood behind her as close as I thought I could get away with without pissing her off more.

  “Have you seen Jericho?” She asked in a clipped tone, her English accent making every word she said sound important.

  “Not in a while,” I answered, thankful for any kind of conversation even if it had to do with Jericho. “I think he might still be out hunting.” I remembered the teenage boys dragging him along with them with several old rifles in their hands.

  “Oh,” Amelia answered simply turning back around to face forward.

  “Doesn’t it bother you?” I pressed my luck some more.

  She waited a beat, audibly sighing in frustration. She straightened her stiff shoulders before turning around, her delicate faced pinched in irritation and her pouty lips that made such a great smile pressed into an adorable frown.

  “Does what bother me?” She asked on a sigh.

  “Jericho hunting? You are a vegetarian,” I reminded her playfully. The line moved behind her and I instinctively moved forward with it, but she didn’t. She stood her ground, not expecting me to step so close. She looked up at me, her mouth falling open just barely.

  “I know I’m a vegetarian,” she tried to snap, but her voice came out breathy and unsure and impossibly sexy. I stared intently into those golden brown eyes, desperate to keep my hands to myself and my thoughts from getting away from me.

  We stood there staring at each other for a few more moments, the attraction between us snapping and popping in our separated magic. I knew she couldn’t feel my magic like I could feel hers because she didn’t have any Titan in her. She was half Witch, half Medium just like every other Kendrick before her. She could feel how her magic was affected by mine and she could feel the heat with which she wanted me, but how our separate electricity reacted to each other was my little secret; my little secret that had started to intoxicate me and cloud my judgment whenever she was around. She was obviously attracted to me, but didn’t like me. That alone should be enough for me to stay away. I didn’t have time for a girl, let alone a girl that didn’t like me. Still I couldn’t move my gaze away from hers or talk myself out of trying to get to know her better.

  She took a step back, breaking the spell between us. Her eyes darted around discreetly revealing her level of panic.

  “So it doesn’t bother you?” I murmured.

  “That Jericho went off to hunt? Why should it? Jericho is free to do as he pleases,” she replied curtly.

  “I’m sure Jericho would agree with you,” I agreed. “But I meant for the sake of the animals it doesn’t bother you?”

  “There is a big difference between the livestock farms from your country and hunting in order to feed a village of hungry children,” she replied snidely. People had started to just move around us in order to get at the table of food, so when Amelia stepped over to where the backs of the huts met the Romanian wilderness I followed her. The sun had dipped below the mountainous horizon by now, and this far away from the large fire we were cloaked in darkness.

  “Is that your problem with me?” I laughed, trying but not succeeding to make it seem like I wasn’t laughing at her. “You don’t like that I’m American?”

  Her response was an indignant snort that had my smile growing. “Avalon is that why you won’t leave me alone? You’re upset that I don’t like you?”

  “That’s one of the reasons,” I admitted in a husky voice. The sounds of a gypsy trio began to liven the night as the fiddle, violin and accordion drifted through the air melting into a fast tempo, melancholy rhythm that called those who had finished their meal to dance around the fire. The cool breeze moved Amelia’s hair off her delicate shoulders and around her face and her eyes shone even through the dark night. I leaned forward with only the promise of her soft lips against mine. Her eyes flicked down to my mouth as I moved slowly towards her, her irresistible lips had a gravitational pull of their own and she made no attempt to move.

  “Would you like to hear all the reasons I don’t like you, then? Would that help
cure your curiosity?” She laughed mockingly, turning her head back to the village and moving her mouth out of my reach.

  “Probably not,” I admitted truthfully. She snapped her head back to me like she was going to tell me anyway, so I had to interrupt. I actually physically had to or I would lose myself even more to the emptiness of monotony, there was something there, something between us and I was going to be damned if I let her talk me out of it before I figured out what it was. I leaned in, inhaling her as I drew closer to her ear. She smelled like lilacs and vanilla and…. happiness. “Dance with me,” I ordered softly into her ear.

  She shivered under my breath and I felt it to my core. I slipped my hand around hers before she could decline and led her over to the fire. She followed me, letting me drag her along and then pull her into me once we were in line with the other dancers. She looked up at me with wide eyes that narrowed into defiance, but behind her rebelliousness was something like fear.

  Yet she didn’t walk away.

  And even though I could have easily danced with a hundred girls that would have gladly stayed because they wanted to, I only wanted to dance with her because she stayed when she didn’t want to.

  I could relate. And the thought made me smile down at her, even while she glared unsurely up at me. Before she could change her mind, I put my hands on her hips and moved her with the complicated steps of the gypsy folk dance. The dance was fast paced and there was not time to really talk, but it also kept our bodies close together, constantly touching. My magic jumped and sizzled inside my veins with her so close, her delicate waist in my hands, the scent of her hair and skin intoxicating me.