A Curious Twist of Lime Read online

  “Tell me, where did this amazingly inept intelligence come from?” Georg asks. Asher is nearly at the door. He turns, folding his hands in front of him.

  “I couldn’t say.”

  “You’re the king’s major domo, Asher,” Georg points out, his tone even despite the tightness of his jaw. “There isn’t a bit of information that passes through the palace that you don’t know.”

  A shrug. “Be that as it may, the source is irrelevant. We must take all threats seriously. Especially these days.”

  Georg growls. “I consider it relevant, since it provided Kolya an excuse to take down whoever appeared on that road today. Funny who that turned out to be, isn’t it?”

  “We’d no word you were arriving today, milord, let alone from the realms. The count stood down when he recognized you.”

  “After he nearly killed my companion.”

  “Um, yes.” The man gives me a dismissive glance, his first since he entered the room. “The human looks like she will survive. It’s hardly His Lordship’s fault the things are so fragile.”

  Things?

  Georg’s tone turns to pure gravel. “Is murdering innocents the way of bruins at Hearthstone these days?

  Asher’s lips are so thin now they’re almost nonexistent, but the servant’s eyes remain cool. “Perhaps you would know more of our ways had you deigned to visit court more often. Good day, milord.”

  As soon as the door clicks behind him, Georg swears, spearing both hands into his tangled hair.

  “I did warn you,” Konstantin mutters.

  “I hate this shit. So that’s how Kolya’s going to play it? That he’s the savior of the realm, while I’m some kind of New World asshole?”

  “Asshole outsider,” Konstantin agrees dryly.

  Georg curses again, grabbing the parchment from my bed and scanning it again before throwing it into the roaring fire I’m just noticing. As my vision gets stronger, I start to take in more of the room.

  It’s hard not to gawk.

  Apparently, I’ve fallen into some Russian fairy tale. High ceilings gilded with ivory and gold catch the light of the flames and glow softly, illuminating fantastical moldings that make my old bed look like the clumsy cuttings of a child. Even the walls are draped in midnight-blue silk shot with gold.

  Slender candles sparkle in ornate candelabras all around the room. Their flames catch those golden threads, adding a magical sparkle to the air itself. Thick, bright carpets in intricate patterns line the floors. My bed is hung with velvet in shades of deep resplendent blue.

  It’s completely enchanting.

  Nothing in the Master’s castle in Niflheim was whole. The blankets were moth-eaten and thin, the few tapestries hung in ragged tatters, and the stone crumbled away at a harsh glance. Here everything is rich with substance and vitality. I lift a bit of velvet to my cheek and sigh at the decadence of it all.

  It takes a minute before I realize the men have stopped talking. Georg is staring at me. A dark hollow in his cheek tics once. The fireplace is behind him, giving his big body a golden aura that makes him seem even larger than usual. “Konstantin, leave us.”

  “Milord—”

  “Stay outside the door if you must,” Georg says through gritted teeth, “but go.”

  Without another word, the man leaves. Georg steps closer to the bed. I take a quick breath when he sits next to me, his hip pressing into my thigh through the covers.

  He seems …different.

  Before the attack on the roadway, he was kind, gruff and funny by turns, but always somewhat distant. His focus now is disconcerting. Especially when every bit of it seems centered directly on me.

  “Kolya nearly killed you.” His voice is as soft as the velvet against my cheek. “At first I thought he had.”

  “So did I.” My attempt at a smile is shaky. I’m far too aware of the heat of him, the nearness of him. It’s an effort to focus on the attack, but I try. “There was so much blood. I know there was—I saw it.” With a gasp, I drop the fabric to touch my face, searching for the wounds that have to be there.

  Georg grabs my hand and pushes it back into my lap. “There’s no need to worry. I healed you.” His fingers stay wrapped around mine, which makes it a trifle hard to breathe, especially when his thumb starts making slow circles against my palm.

  But I don’t ask him to stop.

  “That’s good.” It really is. I’m not vain—at least not unduly so—but I am grateful not to be scarred. I think of that ice-white bear again and shiver. Kolya. Even the name sounds harsh and cold. The fire crackles in the hearth, making me jump. I realize I can also hear what might be a harp and distant laughter.

  People.

  My heart starts to pound. What is this place? Who lives here? Will they like me?

  When can I talk to them?

  Georg’s fingers tighten. “Alice, if you have questions, it’s okay to ask them.”

  “It is?” I’ve grown accustomed to not knowing… Well, much of anything. The Master never answered any of my questions—I mean, I hadn’t even known the name of the world I was in until Georg voiced it. Everything in my life has been a secret shrouded in a mystery locked in a dream.

  He frowns. “Of course it is.”

  I hardly know where to start. “W-where are we?”

  “Hearthstone. A castle in Russia.”

  I knew it. We must be in the palace I saw from the road, the pretty one with the waterfalls. A happy tingle dances across my shoulders, then fades as I realize from his earlier conversation who is here with us. “And this Kolya—who is he?”

  “A count of the bruin court here,” Georg’s voice roughens. “The Court of Oak.”

  “That’s what you bear-men call yourselves, bruins?”

  He chuckles. “Yes. The bear-women, too.”

  “There are bear women?” I ask, feeling dazed.

  It’s a ridiculous question and my cheeks heat, but Georg only cocks a brow. I duck my head, trying to pull my hand from his, but he won’t let me.

  Finally, I give up, examining his fingers instead. They’re so large, twice as thick as mine and half again as long. “Kolya is saying he attacked us because something dangerous was coming from Niflheim?” I hold my breath, because there is something dangerous in Niflheim. The Master.

  No doubt Georg is thinking the same thing, but he only shrugs, the movement rocking the bed and shifting me closer to him. “I doubt they were warned about Niflheim specifically—the portal is for all of the nine realms, not just one in particular.”

  Oh. There is so much I don’t understand. But even so, it seems odd that no one hailed us. No one tried to establish why we were on that road. They just attacked. I have a feeling that if Georg and Konstantin hadn’t been able to defend themselves, we would have all been slaughtered.

  I keep my eyes on our joined hands, his dark and tanned with the sun, mine pale and soft for lack of it. “It seems . . . rather suspicious,” I whisper.

  “It does, doesn’t it?” When I look up, his smile is thin. “You’ll find that a lot around here. But Kolya claims he was only protecting the castle, and most will believe him.”

  There is something between Georg and this other bear. I may lack personal experience in such matters, but I have read a lot about court intrigue. “Are you a royal as well?”

  He watches me, a curious expression flitting over his face. “In a matter of speaking.”

  “You’re not a count, too, are you?” That would be alarming. If I remember my titles correctly, a count is just a step below a king.

  The corner of his mouth quirks up. “No. Not a count.”

  “Oh, that’s good.”

  A quiet laugh. “Is it?”

  I watch the light glint in his beard and wonder who this man—this bruin really is. I saved him, and he saved me—twice now. But in reality, I know next to nothing about Georg.

  Except that I like him. Very much. I look down at our hands again, wishing I knew more.

&nb
sp; “What is your title?”

  “It’s sort of in flux at the moment, actually.” Georg glances over his shoulder, squeezing my hand before dropping it on the covers. “You’ll be safe here, but rest tonight, and don’t open the door after I leave.”

  “All right.” I twist at the covers, resisting the urge to reach for him again, to ask him to stay a bit longer. And despite his words, Georg seems reluctant to leave. The fire spits and sighs as we watch each other.

  “No more questions?”

  The candles and the firelight streak his hair with gold. He’s very close and that sunshine and new-wood scent of his fills my nose, along with blood, dirt and male sweat. It occurs to me Georg hasn’t so much as changed clothes since our encounter in that pit. He should be attending to his own needs, not mine.

  “That’s it. At least for tonight.” I amend at his arch look. “I’m too tired to think straight and honestly, this” —I wave my hand around the room and laugh— “just being here is a lot to take in.”

  “Of course.” He looks solemn. “But you’re safe here, Alice. Despite what happened today, you can trust me on that.”

  “I do,” I say, a little too fervently. My cheeks go hot again and I hope he can’t see them in this light.

  Lips curving, Georg gets to his feet. Then his smile turns to a grimace. He sits back down again hard, rocking the mattress.

  My spine snaps straight. “Are you all right?’

  “I’m fine,” he mutters through gritted teeth, “just a little stiff.” When he makes to get up again, I put a hand on his thigh, shocked at my own boldness.

  “If you’re fine, then turn around. Let me see.”

  Our gazes lock. At first, I think he’s going to refuse. My fingers tighten on iron-hard muscles under thin, soft fabric. He glances down, then with a shake of his head does as I ask. I wish he hadn’t. I have to bite my lips to hold back a sharp cry.

  Dear god. His back is broad and as well sculpted as the rest of him, but the beautiful golden expanse is crisscrossed with no less than a dozen ugly red claw marks, each thicker than my thumb.

  “Kolya did this?” I whisper, reaching out before I can stop myself. His skin is like fire-warmed satin. Fire-warmed satin over stone. He’s hard and smooth, all mixed up. My fingertips tingle and I’m very glad he can’t see my face. I trace around one of the marks, careful not to press too hard on the sore, abraded skin. Fury darkens my gaze. I’ve never been an angry person, despite my circumstances. I mean, honestly, what was the point?

  And I know I couldn’t take more than a step at the moment without falling flat on my face. That even at full health, there is little I could do, but the urge to find that awful Count and—

  “No,” Georg says shortly. “The guards he had with him did this. All six of them.”

  “Are they locked in their rooms, too?”

  Silence. My fingers trail higher to tighten on his shoulder. “Georg?”

  Hard muscle rolls once beneath my hand. “No need to lock away the dead.”

  I don’t know what to say to that.

  He twists around to face me with another wince. “Does that bother you?”

  I consider the question carefully, my gaze falling to the ugly marks on his back. Maybe it should but—

  “No.” I clear my throat and fold my shaking hands into my lap. “You did what you had to.”

  He looks surprised, and—though he covers it quickly—pleased. “Not quite as sweet as you look, are you, Alice?”

  He thinks I look ‘sweet’? My heartbeat picks up again, but I ignore his question to ask one of my own. “Are you going to get someone to look at those?”

  “I’ll be fine,” he mutters. “I’d be healed already, but—”

  His sudden silence is abrupt and I frown. “But what?”

  “Bruins heal fast.” A shrug of those big shoulders, another grimace. “It’s just going a little slower than normal.”

  I mull this over, though it doesn’t take long before I get it. “Because you healed me first?”

  He’s already on his feet. “I wasn’t the one in danger of dying. It’s not a big deal.”

  I’m not so sure about that. I think of the way that other bruin acted. Asher spoke about me as if I were a thing.

  And there’s what Konstantin said, too.

  She’s nothing to them. Even less to him. What does the nobility care about one lost human?

  I lean back against my pillows. Georg is a part of the place, this world. Where he fits in, I am not certain—but these are his people. For better or worse, I would expect his values to follow theirs. From what I’ve seen and heard, that means I should be an afterthought at best. Instead Georg killed some of his own protecting me, he used his magic to heal me—at apparently no small cost to himself—and tomorrow he will appear before his king, in part to defend me yet again.

  Not to mention what he already rescued me from. If it hadn’t been for Georg, I’d be married to the Master by now. With a shudder, I sink back into the covers.

  “I owe you so much.”

  “And I you,” he points out.

  True. But still— “I think you pulled ahead today.”

  “It’s not a contest, sweetheart.”

  Perhaps not, but I’m determined that my days of being a victim are over. As much as I like Georg, I don’t like being in his debt, even when he calls me ‘sweetheart’ in that toe-curling voice. “Maybe not, but I’ll pay you back just the same.”

  He smiles down at me in a way that makes my heart swoop into my throat and get stuck there. “There’s no need for that.”

  “Yes, there is,” I croak.

  “Get some rest,” he says again, turning to leave.

  “What about you?”

  He hesitates, head cocked as he considers my question. “Me?”

  “Are you going to bed?”

  “I have some things to attend to first.”

  “Not too many things, I hope.”

  He lifts an eyebrow. Belatedly, I realize I’m being presumptuous, but I don’t care.

  “You need your sleep, too.” I insist. “You couldn’t have slept much in that pit or last night either. You haven’t healed completely yet—and you haven’t even had a chance to change!”

  He looks taken aback at my indignant tone, glancing down at his blood- and travel-stained jeans. With a chuckle, he shakes his head. “Duly noted. I will find some fresh clothes.”

  “And get some sleep?” I prompt, curling deeper into my own bed. It’s truly the most heavenly thing imaginable and I have to stifle a yawn as the last word falls from my lips.

  “I have one errand that cannot wait, but then I will rest,” he says softly. “I promise.”

  “Good. See that you do.”

  He remains at my bedside, staring down at me, his eyes hooded. “I’m not used to taking orders.”

  I look up at him, roused out of my cozy haze by that rough velvet purr that sounds more bear than man. Was that what I was doing? Goodness, I guess I was. And that makes me a teensy bit proud of myself. I smile up at him. “I’m not used to giving them either, but perhaps the change is good for both of us?”

  He chuckles before walking away at last. “Perhaps. Sleep well, Alice.”

  “You, too,” I murmur as the door closes. “You, too.”

  6

  The chamber is silent, a silence that is almost audible in its tautness. Across from me the king of the Old World—to most here the only world that matters—sits on his throne, his eyes narrowed at the man standing next to me. Kolya inclines his head, the light from the stained-glass window over the throne turning his short blond hair bloodred.

  “I humbly apologize for misreading a threat to our people.” The count’s silky tone has my teeth grinding together.

  Samuel looks to me. The king’s own dark hair is streaked with grey. His face is lined more deeply than the rocky crags that flank this castle. The man has enough on his shoulders and I know he wants this settled, but I refu
se to give in so easily. It’s not enough and Samuel knows it. An apology in this chamber is a token concession, nothing more.

  “What do you offer as recompense?” I bite out.

  “Recompense?” Kolya lifts a pale eyebrow. “You and that shadow bastard killed five of my men. Only Yuri walked away alive. If anything, it’s you who owes me recompense.”

  I snap my teeth shut against a growl at Samuel’s quelling look. “Alright,” I say, matching the count’s sneer, “in lieu of recompense, I will accept your formal apology to Alice.”

  “The human woman?” Kolya gapes at me before turning to Samuel. “Really, Your Majesty, are we circus bears now, entertaining the whims of the rabble?”

  Samuel sighs. “You nearly killed her. An apology is warranted”—Kolya stiffens—“but a note will suffice. See that is done immediately. Count, you are free to go. Georg, hold a moment.”

  With a short nod and a bow, Kolya takes his leave of us but not before sending a smirk my way.

  I watch him go, seething quietly. The door shuts before I turn back to the king. “You let him get away with too little reparation.”

  “And you expect too much, Georg. As always.” Samuel chuckles. “Besides, did you really want the count and that poor woman in the same room again so soon?”

  I let out a breath. He always was a wise man, Samuel. The best king our people have ever had, though I know many would disagree. “The king knows best,” I acknowledge.

  He chuckles again. “Such a rare quality in our world, knowing when you are wrong.”

  As Samuel leans back in the throne, the amusement fades from his face and he looks tired. Too tired. My shoulders, already stiff from dealing with Kolya’s bullshit, knot painfully.

  “Come closer, Georg, let me look at you.”

  It’s no secret Samuel is dying. He’s been king for nearly a century, the longest reign in our history. Like most FTCs, bruins are practically immortal once they reach their majority at twenty-seven. However, we can be killed. Usually by terrific violence—like, say, being ripped apart by a moon-mad wolf pack—but sometimes it is something more insidious. Our healers continue to fight the strain of hibernation sickness sapping our king’s strength, but Samuel has been fading for years.