I’m not going to make it that easy for him. He wants to end this stupidity with Deandra, then he can do it on his own. I hold still and try not to laugh as Carrick’s disbelieving gaze comes my way. He tilts his head, ire in his expression.
I give him a sweet smile, and he turns his attention back to the princess.
“Deandra… I was only here briefly to speak to your mother, then I’m headed to visit Arwen,” he says firmly.
“Perfect,” she says brightly, wrapping her hands around the one flat on her chest holding her back, and trying to lace her fingers with his. “I’ll accompany you to Arwen, then you can come back and we’ll have a romantic dinner in my room.”
Deandra quickly sidesteps, which dislodges his arm from holding her back, and she starts to move into him once again.
And… I’ve had enough. “I suggest you get your hands off him, fae,” I say, making sure my tone implies that fae is a filthy word to me, “or I’ll do it for you.”
Deandra’s head turns slowly my way, and I can tell by her victorious smile that this big act was all for my benefit. Her lips peel, and her smile turns feral. “You know… an insult like that against a royal of Faere is basically a challenge. And I accept.”
Dropping her hold on Carrick’s hand, Deandra turns to face me, all signs of sexy flirtation completely erased from her expression. She’s ready to kill me, and, to prove that, she waves her hands down her body and the mini-skirt and halter disappear. In its place is some type of silver mesh bodysuit with pieces of armor strategically placed at her shins, hips, arms, shoulders, and torso.
In her hand is a wicked-looking sword.
My hand automatically reaches for my whip in my backpack, which is currently in Carrick’s condo since I can’t bring weapons into Faere.
This doesn’t scare me as much as it should, and not because I know Carrick would never let me get hurt. I’m not scared because the minute I realized I don’t have a weapon, the feather on my legs starts to itch, then burn, and I feel something powerful well inside me. It feels unnatural and slightly oily. It makes me nauseated, but I intuitively know that if I can harness this, and somehow unleash it at Deandra, I can gravely hurt her.
My eyes go a little fuzzy, and I bite down on my lower lip to focus in on it. I imagine pulling it into a ball and—
“Finley,” Carrick barks, and I jolt. The power disappears as fast as it had appeared, and I gape at him in confusion.
“What?” I ask, noting his wariness.
Deandra steps forward. “Let’s go, human. A battle to the death.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Deandra,” Carrick snarls, stepping in between us. “Finley is not going to battle you because she didn’t insult you. And even if she did, I wouldn’t let her. And if you insist on it, I’m going to step in as her proxy and, as you said, it’s a battle to the death. You know you’re going to lose against me.”
Face turning a bit pale, Deandra tries to maintain some of her royal arrogance. “You wouldn’t dare strike a royal fae down.”
“You fuck with my woman again,” Carrick warns ominously, “and I most certainly will. Which will piss off your mother, father, and brother, and then I’m going to have to take them on. And you know I’ll obliterate your family, so think carefully if you really want to play these childish games. Finley and I are together. You and I were but a thing so very long ago I can hardly remember it. Let it go.”
Deandra loses her paleness, and her cheeks burn red with embarrassment. She waves her hands again, and the armor and weapon disappear, slutty outfit back in place, and, without a word, she pivots to stomp off away from us.
It’s at this moment that I notice everyone in the bailey has been watching with open interest, and I see some of the fae holding money in their hands as if they were getting ready to lay down bets.
With Deandra stomping off, the fae go about their business once again.
My gaze moves back to Carrick and I prepare to make a funny quip, but his expression is still wary.
“What?” I ask, head tilted.
“What was that?” he queries in a grave tone.
“What was what? That bimbo made a play to try to draw me into a fight. My boyfriend defended my honor, and it’s over.”
“No,” Carrick says with a shake of his head, stepping into me. He bends in and murmurs, “What was that power inside you?”
“You could see it?” I ask in astonishment.
“I could feel it, Finley,” he replies softly, his hand coming down to take mine. “And it was dark.”