Page 35 of Surfaces
I let out a soft laugh. “A queen doesn’t often get what she wants. How about instead of leaving, you tell me about yourself, Taft? I know a few things about Mateo but none about you.”
Taft gave a slow nod as Mateo reached for the carriage door and pulled it shut, sliding a bolt closed to lock it. With a shudder, the sea horses began to move and I resigned myself to the fact that this journey wouldn’t be the wanton sexual adventure I’d imagined, but instead a conversation that was as dry and stale as an old biscuit.
“I’m from Sky Stones,” Taft said slowly, then stopped.
“And he’s a nixe,” Mateo contributed, excitement coloring his voice.
“Lovely,” I said, as I racked my brain to remember if I’d studied anything about nixes in the royal library.
Mateo interjected. “Oh, it’s more than lovely. Show her one, Taft.”
Taft brought a hand up to dig shyly through his onyx hair and shook his head. “We haven’t even made small talk.”
“But it’s so awesome. If I could do it, I’d hardly be in human form at all.”
Taft rolled his eyes at Mateo’s enthusiasm before turning to me and said softly, “Majesty, I’d like to change form, if you don’t mind.”
My disinterest and unfair annoyance at this newcomer who’d crushed my orgasmic plans transformed into a hesitant fascination. What could he do that impressed Mateo so much?
A second later, Taft’s body dissolved into bubbles and a small pale blue sea serpent no larger than a loaf of bread appeared in his place. His barbed tail swirled in the water for a moment and he looked like a winged snake with oversized nostrils and the thin mustache of a snake oil peddler. Another moment, and another slew of bubbles, and a blue sea anemone sat in his seat, tentacles swaying.
My jaw hung open like a child’s. “You can turn into anything?”
“Anything,” Mateo confirmed, reaching out and patting my shoulder with enthusiastic excitement. “It doesn’t have to be animate either. And he’s not part human, so he doesn’t pay a price for his magic! Ask him to become a hand mirror. Or a hair comb. Or—”
“Can you become a scepter?” I faced the little anemone, wondering if Taft could even hear at all in his current form.
Apparently, that answer was yes because another set of bubbles erupted and then a pale silvery scepter set with sapphires lay upon his seat.
“Brilliant,” I whispered, awe coursing through me. I knew I needed husbands to help with trade—Mateo was my first pick there—and negotiation. But I also needed a spymaster. I’d been considering Stavros. But here in front of me sat a man who could literally go undetected as he gathered information. What more could I want in a spy?
I turned to look at Mateo, whose hand still sat on my shoulder, gratitude etched into my features. He’d clearly unearthed Taft amongst all the other competitors and brought him to me. My eyes shone my thanks as a final flurry of bubbles appeared and then Taft sat slouching against the other brocade bench once more.
Mateo smiled back and that click of connection I always felt with him returned. His hand slid down my shoulder, thumb gently tracing my skin and reminding me of everything else I wanted to do with him today. Bringing a competitor this powerful but clearly incredibly shy to my attention deserved a reward. My teeth dug into my lip as I thought about what type of reward Mateo might like and what type I thought fitting to give. Definitely one involving my mouth. My change in expression led to a heated stare on his part and I had to turn away and stare down at my lap, knotting my fingers together in frustration.
Damn. What could we do? We were stuck in this carriage with someone else and it would be hours until we stopped for the midday meal. But I wanted to kiss him so badly, whisper my thanks against his lips, have him gather me into his lap and just hold me for a bit before we made slow sweet love, and then had a fast and dirty session after.
I reigned in my imagination by turning to Taft.
The nixe didn’t bother offering additional information about himself, sitting silently and awkwardly across from us, doing nothing more than blinking those large eyes of his which had, thankfully, returned to green.
“What does your family think about you entering the tournament, Taft?” I asked.
But the burly blue man just shrugged one of his huge shoulders. “Don’t know.”
“How’d you find the joust?”
“Different than I’m used to but not bad.”
“How’s it feel when you’re shifted into an object and someone touches you?”
He shrugged. “Dunno how to describe it. It’s not like anything else.”
“But you do feel it?”
“Sort of. Depends on the object I guess. The harder the object, the more I think it feels like a shell outside of me, not quite getting in.”
Fascinating.
