Page 36 of Royal Ransom

His smile was small, sad, and genuine. “Thank you.”

Chapter Twenty-two

Taliyah

Apricity was much smaller than I expected.

And pink. Violently, alarmingly pink. She’d rubbed some kind of potion into her hair to turn it a nice, subdued salmon shade. It was the only subtle thing about her. Everything else showed no such restraint. I’d seen less lurid shades of magenta at raves when I’d been working a beat. There were more suspicious deaths in nightclub backrooms than most people wanted to believe. Priss looked like she belonged under neon lights, not contrasting sharply with the silvers and blues that dominated winter’s preferred interior decorating scheme.

That was the point of the pink: to stand out. In the dreary depths of winter, blacks and purples weren’t countercultural. It was the eternal teenage contradiction: how to feel unique without drawing unwanted attention to yourself. I’d been a fan of blue mascara and black nail polish during this phase, but if you’d commented on it, I would have dissolved into a socially awkward mess.

Priss was staring at me from the head of the table. She’d been picking at a roll, shredding it into brown tatters on her plate as she watched me eat. Like me, she couldn’t seem to stop looking for similarities. I could tell our coloring was similar, thanks to the silver peeking out at her roots. Her face was longer than mine, with a weaker chin. Her nose was the same. The eyes, too. ‘Winter sky blue’, my human dad had called them. He had no idea how right he was.

I was enjoying the roasted pheasant, despite her gawking. If this was going to be my last meal, I’d savor it. Either she’d give me a lock of her hair and agree to the plan, or she wouldn’t. It didn’t change how the night would end. I had to assassinate my aunt or die trying. I couldn’t blame Priss though if she didn’twant to donate her face to the cause.

When Priss finally spoke aloud, her voice was almost as soft and timid as my boys’.

“Why did you come here?” she asked.

“To ask for your help,” I answered. “And because your dad plotted to have us meet.”

I’d been braced for an obnoxious teenager or a vicious pixie clone of Wren. Somehow, Priss was a mixture of both. She was staring past me at Basil, shooting him a forbidding look.

“I thought I told you not to come back here. Not only did you disregard my request, but you broughtherwith you. It doesn’t change things, even if the madness you’re planning works out in your favor. It doesn’t make you my dad. You gave me up. You don’t get to call yourself my authority.”

I half-expected Basil to argue. If it had been Sean or Charlie speaking to me in that tone, I would have been defensive or fighting back tears. But he just nodded, taking the rebuff in stride.

“You’ve made your feelings clear, Priss. I’m not trying to worm my way back into your life. I wouldn’t be here if there weren’t lives on the line. Janara is plotting an attack on a Hollow, despite the consequences. It’s madness, and it will get your people killed. This is much larger than our family squabbles.”

Priss’s face paled. She looked like a mature eighteen or a young twenty. In reality, she was three times that. I once again thanked my lucky stars (and Basil Levant) for the illusion of adulthood he’d bestowed on me. Though Priss was technically older than I was, she already seemed like a guardian angel.

“Is that true?”

I nodded. “Janara has taken someone I care about hostage, and she’s going to kill him if I don’t turn myself over to her. She won’t stop until our bloodline is wiped out, even if Idon’t want to take the throne. After she’s done with me, she’ll eventually learn the truth about you. I don’t want to give her the opportunity to hurt you, Priss.”

“So?” she asked.

I took a deep breath. “So, I just need a lock of your hair.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”

“If I asked you to trust me, would you?”

“No,” she said flatly.

I laughed. “Well, at least you’re honest. That puts you leagues above the other Winter Sidhe in the character department. Give me a few years, and I think we’ll grow on each other.”

“Like moss,” she said with a sniff, employing the appropriate scorn I’d come to expect from girls her age.

“Or toadstools,” I added cheerfully. “Or something equally slimy.”

Priss smiled. It was only a nanosecond, but I caught it. A gentle warmth locked into place inside me. It was as if I’d been unaware of what was missing until it fell into place. It happened like that sometimes. I’d felt something similar when Sean and Charlie came into my life. I’d felt it again when Maverick swooped in and married me, preserving me as I was forever.

“Exactly.”

“So?” I asked. “Will you do it? I know it’s a big favor to ask.”

In answer, Priss seized a steak knife, hacking a lock of hair from her bangs, leaving a messy notch where the wedge of fine pink strands had been. She blew the remnants off the table before offering me the handful of salmon-colored fluff.

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