Page 6 of Pining for the Prince
Gwil’s stomach knotted. If it had been solely a physical reaction, he’d have brushed this off years ago.
“Oh, I love these. Thanks. And yes, the Lucas case is fermenting. I’ve set up a tracking spell and a counter shield with half-triangulation. Should read out in a couple of hours.”
“Great.” He had no clue what any of that meant. Hyax’s fae magic was beyond his comprehension most of the time, but he hoped that they’d know where Sammi Lucas’s pet Hell-Chihuahua was. “Did you see the info Tobias sent?”
“I did… Now I understand why you didn’t say no straight off the cuff. I’m sorry for storming out, I should know by now that, of the two of us, you’re the one less likely to overreact.”
“It is true that I didn’t nearly break someone’s neck because they left my hair straighteners on.”
“It was an ancient fae wand, and the stupid twat tried to plug it in.” Hyax reached over and ruffled his hair. “Pity, because you could have used its short hair setting to tame those curls.”
Gwil thought he deserved a medal not to lean into the touch. “Enough of my follicle failings. How about we visit the British Museum tomorrow?”
“Late nights on Fridays. It’s a date!”
He had a love-hate relationship with the British Museum. It was familiar from before he was turned, back when he’d strolled through it dressed in a frock coat and top hat. The exhibitions had changed over the years, as had the public’s view on empire and whether most of the contents probably belonged to someone else. He’d taken Matilda there, a socially acceptable afternoon endeavour with the woman who, if he hadn’t done what he’d done, would have become his wife. He hadn’t loved her, nor her him, but love had little to do with marriage as far as he was concerned. Not in those days. He’d wanted to fight his dark side, had hoped Matilda would’ve been enough but she hadn’t been, and then he’d met Solivatus and his life, and death had changed. Many vampires didn’t remember much about life before they were turned, he guessed it was another fucking thing he’d been lucky with, typical that some of his most vivid memories were also his most annoying.
The idea of going with Hyax had a new connotation, a professional visit, still he wished he could be wandering arm-in-arm with Hyax around the exhibitions, instead he was just torturing himself and he needed to get a grip.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Brooding again?” Hyax asked as he turned the museum map around. “Or are you hungry? It’s difficult to tell some days.”
“Bastard,” Gwil said, giving him a not-so-friendly nudge with his elbow. “It’s neither—I’m concentrating.”
Hyax liked the British Museum, although the rumours were the more exciting exhibitions weren’t on display, and there was always a frisson of something he couldn’t name that sent him tingling, as if calling out to his magic, and every time it had a different flavour, today it was like apple blossom—he’d not had that one before.
The museum was busier than he’d expected, the poor weather encouraging people inside who were lumbering about getting in the way and putting him on hyper alert. He wondered how Gwil coped with being in the centre of a walking vampire charcuterie board.
Hyax handed Gwil the map. “Concentrate on this. Doesn’t matter how many times I come here I still can’t tell one room from another.”
“What’s the problem? Not magical enough?”
“Yes, that’s exactly the problem. Prick.” Gwil was in a spiky mood, and it brought out the snarky side of him, which Hyax found more amusing than anything else. “Now stop moping and bitching and let’s find this watch before I open a portal and leave you here on your own.”
It was an empty threat and Gwil knew it. “Your portal permit is for secluded areas only. You wouldn’t dare open one in here or you’d be in deep shit and it’d get back to your mum.”
“Ha-fucking-ha.” The British Museum, like most of its ilk, was a general no-portal access for security reasons. “Permits might be extremely difficult to get, and going unnoticed is not easy, but I could be tempted if you’re going to keep being annoying.”
“Diddums. Can’t use your shiny toys.”
Hyax poked him hard in the chest. If Gwil could be a grumpy arse so could he. “I mean it, Gwil, don’t push me. We’re only here at your insistence. I could be at home basking in meadow light at sunset while enjoying the spoils of my parents’ court.”
“Oh come on. Who picks drinking ambrosia over a night out in London?”
Gwil had asked him once why he didn’t spend his days idling and being waited on hand and foot. He hadn’t been able to explain and had muttered something about boredom, expectation, and he could worry about idle decadence when he was older. It felt as if life was passing him by in the fae realm. The human world seemed more vibrant and alive, but he’d not voiced that, as he suspected Gwil would have laughed in his face.
Gwil’s ability to read the map wasn’t any better than his own, meaning it took him several minutes to locate the horological exhibition, and he swore the last time he’d been here the rooms had housed a load of Assyrian items including a bloody great statue of a winged horse.
“I think it’s in the case over here,” Gwil said, charging over to the other side of the room.
Gwil tapped the glass of a display cabinet, pointing to a specific watch mounted alongside several other beautiful examples.
Hyax stood behind Gwil and a fraction too close. He knew his concept of personal space, like most fae, was non-existent and he didn’t always get this sort of opportunity to be so near to Gwil and he was selfish enough to take it when he could. “Oh. Those are so pretty. I can see why he would want it back.”
“You and shiny things,” Gwil muttered and stepped to the side, putting some distance between them.
Hyax frowned but didn’t close the gap.
