Chapter 1 - You have been summoned
(Alicia)
I wake with a start, the incessant buzzing of my phone against my thigh having done the trick. I ignore it, let it buzz to its little heart’s content. Whoever it is can leave a message.
But now that I’m awake, I take note of my surroundings. Oh hell. What did I do?
The room smelled like old beer and too-much perfume and something warmer, darker. Six people lay scattered across the furniture, asleep in that awful, sudden way that follows too many drinks and too little care. I knew two sets of breathing: Shannon and Phoebe, Ruben and Dimitri. The other two were strangers, unfamiliar weights and a human scent that didn’t belong to our crowd.
They’d been close together, careless and collapsed. Phoebe’s face rested against a stranger’s chest; Shannon was half-rolled beneath Dimitri; Ruben had an arm flung across someone else. The scene said the night had been loud and messy. It said things I didn’t want to commit to memory.
I reached up and discovered a sticky smear across my collarbone. Someone had spilled something, left heat and residue where skin should have been. I gagged, grabbed a stray bra from the arm of the couch and wiped at it with one hand while keeping my tank top clutched open with the other. I’d stayed clothed, as usual. These cargo pants are so tight they need peeling off, anyway. That was a small mercy.
The buzzing starts up again, but I leave it safely in its side pocket against my thigh while I sit up and rub my face. I may have partied a bit too much, and this lot clearly did too.
I slid from the couch on bare feet and padded to the door. Where the hell are we? The corridor outside smelled of stale smoke and the echo of the night. At one end a door gave to an emergency exit, then to an alley and sunlight. I pushed it and let the brightness punch the dark out of my eyes.
The bloody phone starts buzzing again. I fish it out of my pocket and stare at the screen. Hell no.
Without answering, I put the phone back where it came from and look around. At the end of the alleyway cars are zooming up and down a busy street. My feet take me in that direction.
I really should try harder not to end up in situations like this. Sighing, I look up and down the street for any clues as to where I might be. Juniper and Close, the street signs on the corner said when I looked that way. Another sign on the wall next to me read 'Mike's Bar'. Not a place I’d planned to remember.
I fish my phone out again and type in the location. I’m in an area downtown that I’ve never been to before. Just going by reputation, this is not an area I should be in either. It’s one of those spots we tend to avoid because its right on that murky line where several supernatural species’ borders meet.
I think about going back and waking my four acquaintances, but then I hesitate. It’s better for me if I make a clean getaway before they wake up. There’s four of them, they’ll be fine, I tell myself and open my Uber app. Time to go.
My phone buzzes another five times on the drive over to my place. It vibrated like a tiny, insistent animal the whole way home. Every time I glance at the screen, note the caller, and ignore it. I don’t have the energy to deal with my father’s lackeys right now. He can wait. Nothing can be that important.
Safely back home, I strip and almost run into a scalding hot shower. The shower was a small baptism. Hot water hammered the night off my skin and out of my hair until the water ran clear and I could tell myself the world had been washed of it. I pulled on soft tights, an oversized hoodie, Uggs and the armor of indifference. I plan on binge-watching something. But first, breakfast.
I really, really want bacon and eggs, but I really, really don’t want to go through the effort of making it myself. And I am too hungry to wait for a food delivery service, so I settle for cereal and milk and start planning what pizza to order for later.
Halfway through my bowl of cereal there is a loud knock on the door. Sighing, I put the bowl down and went to open it. My mood sours as soon as I see who is waiting outside.
“Princess Alicia. You have been summoned,” the dour-faced man in the three-piece suit says before I can close the door in his face. He is flanked by two heavies. They are clearly not going to take no for an answer. Maybe I should have answered those phone calls, or at least have listened to the messages without deleting them.
For a moment I contemplate closing that door regardless, but from experience I know it won’t work. I could take them, all three of them, but he’ll only send more and where would I hide the bodies? This was a respectable apartment building, and I tried to keep a low profile. The humans didn’t know what I am, and I’d like to keep it that way.
I stare longingly at the bowl of cereal.
“I’m going to finish my breakfast first,” I tell mister dour-face. “You can wait here.”
“Our orders are to bring you immediately…” he starts, but I hold a finger up and slowly move my hand towards his mouth. Then I use my thumb and forefinger to pinch his lips shut. The shock of my action reverberates through his body and I see his eyes slowly turn murderous. I smirk inwardly.
Without a word, I turn towards the kitchen and pick up my bowl again. I take a seat at the counter and start eating while old dour-face is slowly popping an artery in his brain. To his credit, and the heavies surrounding him, he doesn’t move or squeak. Good boy. I did notice that at least one of the heavies was trying very hard to keep a straight face. I better not catch his eye or we’ll both be in big trouble.
When I’ve finished eating, I make a point of rinsing my bowl and spoon, then drying them and meticulously putting it away. A small domestic rebellion. On any other day they’ll be left in the sink until I’ve built up enough dirty dishes to warrant a proper wash. But nope, not today. Today, I’m deliberately stalling.
After I place the spoon in its spot in the drawer, I open the pantry and grab a muesli bar, slipping it into my hoodie pocket. Who knows when I’ll get to eat again today. In my mind I’m already saying goodbye to that pizza.
I turn towards the three men and grab my keys.
“Right, now where were we?” I say as I walk towards them. Dour-face doesn’t say a word, he just turns and starts walking, clearly expecting me to follow the trail of steam coming out of his ears. I do so obediently, patting myself on the back mentally for playing nice. One of the heavies fall in next to me, the other one takes the rear. Right.
I don’t have to ask who sent them or where we were off to. I know. I also know not to even try asking them what this is all about. They either wouldn’t know or wouldn’t tell me. The car ride to the palace happens in a tense four-hour silence, during which I play candy crush on my phone and occasionally stare out of the window.
We drive through several villages on the way there. Maybe it’s just because I haven’t been here in nearly two years that I notice how tired everything looks. Echoes of the kingdom’s former prosperity are still there in the distinctly tall yet quaintly elegant buildings, but there’s a stench of lingering neglect clinging to the landscape.
Here and there I spot weeds growing through a crack in the pavement. Public buildings and private houses all show the signs of time’s gentle erosion. Peeling paint here, a rusty, skewed fence there, some sagging roofs and dusty shopfronts.
The lawn of a once pristinely manicured playpark near the library of one of the bigger villages is now overgrown, the grass stretching tall in defiance of the absent mower. It’s not that the place has fallen into ruin. It’s more as if it’s grown tired, no longer cared for with the same fervor that once infused every brick and stone with pride.
It has taken him 12 years to get his people to no longer care.
We drive through the gilded palace gates, and I cannot help but make the glaringly obvious comparison. The place is immaculate. Is that a new fountain? Holy hell, the 15-foot-high monstrosity is oddly elegant despite looking like it is made from solid gold…. Not a sag or a speck of rust or a wayward weed anywhere in sight.
I encounter very few people as I’m escorted through the pristinely kept palace. Those who I do come across are all servants who readily stop what they’re doing and bow politely. Although I don’t miss the eyerolls directly preceding the act. Nothing new there.
Dour-face and the heavies deliver me to the gilded doors of my dear father’s office, after a quick rap on the door. At the call to come in, dour-face pushes the heavy doors open and steps inside.
“Princess Alicia, your Highness,” he says like a funeral director as he bows towards the figure sitting behind the massive desk.
“Thank you, Miles. You may leave us,” my father says in his deep baritone, and the lackey promptly leaves the room, adding a bombastic side-eye as he walks past me. I’m tempted to giggle, but my loathing for being in this room stops me from acting on the temptation.
“Took you long enough,” my father addresses me as soon as the doors closes. His voice, as usual, drips of sarcasm.
I look at him, the imposing figure in a suit that likely costs more than a small house, as he remains seated behind his desk. Instead of answering, I shrug. I know it would annoy him.
He tries not to show it, but I spot the slight tick to his right eyelid as I did that. I smirk inwardly. I’m not going to make this easy for him. The only reason he’ll summon me is because he wants something. I’ll do my best to make him sweat for it.
I enjoy him squirming silently while he’s quite clearly trying to work out how to ask whatever the hell it is he wants to. Then I cross my arms over my chest and stare at a spot over his right shoulder, patiently waiting.
“Take a seat,” he grinds out, glaring at me. My gaze returns to his and I hold it.
“No thanks. I’m sure this won’t take long.”
I transfer the weight from one leg over to the other and keep staring at him.
“Very well. Your time to serve your kingdom has come,” he blurts out. Well, I was right. That didn’t take long at all. I cock an eyebrow at him.
“Really? How interesting,” I reply, careful not to reveal that he has managed to pique my interest. What the hell is he on about?
In his most regal manner, he leans back into his plush leather chair and hooks one leg over the other, looking only ever so slightly schmuck.
“You’re getting married in a month. I’ve got a team already working on the preparations. It would be in your best interest to give them your full cooperation. A woman called Chiara will be in touch.”
The blood in my veins turn to ice and my breath stall in my lungs, but I hold my composure, desperate to not let any detail of just how much his words had thrown me filter through. I’m pretty sure he can hear my accelerated heartbeat, but I’m going to ignore that little fact.
Breaking eye contact, I spin on my heels and walk towards the door. “Good luck with that,” I sling over my shoulder as I reach for the handle. He was there, blocking my way before I could even reach it.
“You’re not running from this one, Alicia,” he spits out, and I retract my hand as if I’ve just touched fire. The last thing I wanted was any kind of contact with him.
“I’m not even in the race,” I reply coolly. “You have a daughter who is a much better and obviousl choice for this particular type of duty.”
He grins, one of those ugly ones that was born out of pure malice. He doesn’t even bother to address my comment.
“This is not an opt-in kind of mission, Alicia. This is me, ordering you as your king, to do your duty to your family and your kingdom.”
“Womp-womp,” I reply, my voice dripping with boredom. He doesn’t move, but there’s another little tick in that eyelid that makes me zing in my petty little win to get on his nerves. Inside, I’m exploding in angst at the prospect of what he wants me to do, and anger at his audacity to try and push this on me. On the outside, I’m acting bored and uninterested as hell.
He reaches out a hand to clasp my shoulder, but my flinch backwards makes him retrieve that hand slowly. The tick is more prominent now.
“You can act as bored as you’d like, but it’s not going to help you avoid what’s coming, Alicia.”
I fold my arms over my chest again and look up, straight into his eyes.
“If this is so important to you and the kingdom, you should be giving them the real princess, the legitimate one,” I say. The tick increases slightly, and he blinks to get rid of it. “Me? Not worth as much.”
I know I scored a hit, but I don’t revel in it. Instead, my anger is starting to simmer to levels it probably shouldn’t. Screw him.
“Once again. This is not up for discussion. This is an order.”
I shook my head, incredulity seeping through my every pore. “Huh. Good luck with that. There’s nothing you can say or do that will make me follow that order.” But I cringe inwardly as the words leave my mouth because we both know that’s not true. He wields the powers of domination and manipulation.
I try to brush past him without making any kind of physical contact, mission impossible given his sheer size. His hand whips out lightning fast, latching painfully onto my upper arm. I recoil inwardly at the touch, even though there’s no skin-on-skin involved, a shudder running visibly through me. Then he lowers his head so that his hot breath rushes past my ear.
“I would think very carefully of the consequences of disobedience on this one. Especially what that might mean for Luka,” he whispers quietly, and my blood once again runs cold. I feel the blood drain from my face and my anger turns to dread. He’s using more than his powers.
I wish I could say the fucker wouldn’t dare, but unfortunately, I know all too well that he would. I have first-hand experience of what he’d be willing to do to his own child to get his way, to make me bend to his will, to manipulate me into submission. He is that kind of monster. And he doesn’t need Luka. He already has an heir and three spares.
