“He’s standing here, in a forest, on your territory, dripping wet, and asking you for help,” Loupe said, speaking slowly as if she were talking to a small child. “It’s a woman. Honestly, Etienne, do I have to draw you a picture?”
Her body shivered violently and Etienne turned, still blocking her from Kirill’s sight. “Take your wolf form before you freeze to death. I will handle the vampire.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. Kirill turned his head again as the princess vanished into her thick furred beast.
“Etienne, I know you don’t trust me and you shouldn’t,” Kirill said quietly, turning back to face him. “But I did help you not long ago.” He shook his head and turned beseeching eyes to the werewolf prince. “You have to know what it cost me to come to you for help. Please, I ask only that you come and see the situation for yourself.”
Etienne stared at him, his face pinched with suspicion still. Kirill’s shoulders sagged. This is what Irina had been trying to tell him. It was all fine and well to have political allies, but sometimes you needed friendship. Kirill could have instigated a friendship with Etienne. Way back when they’d first met at the World Tree, he could have said nice things and tried to nurture camaraderie with the werewolf. But he hadn’t. He’d approached the situation as he always did, cool and confident, trying to project strength and independence. And now, he was forced to beg, to plead with a man who believed Kirill was not capable of selflessness. Had he been a friend, he would be at Irina’s side already.
After a few moments pause and a sound that sounded suspiciously like a nip from his wife, Etienne sighed. “Lead the way.”
Irina
screamed,
a long, helpless, rage-filled sound. She viciously swiped at everything she could in Serafina’s lair, but nothing moved. Her hands passed through the glass harmlessly, and not even a breeze stirred the thick parchments. She swirled around the room like an angry, incorporeal wind. She had no idea what the sorceress had done to her. Of all the times Serafina had locked Irina in the glass coffin, never had Irina’s spirit left her body. Quite the contrary, Serafina had always left her awake and fully conscious of her imprisonment. She’d spent days in the magic coffin, not dying, but trapped in darkness and a tiny, tiny space. This was both better and worse.
And Kirill…
Irina put her wavering hands over her eyes. He’d been here, had tried to rescue her. Oh, the horror on his face when he’d seen the coffin, the despair when he’d learned what it would take to open it. When he’d thrown Serafina from the window, Irina had hardly been able to breathe through the emotion choking her incorporeal throat. He cared for her. And she’d run from him and gotten them both into this…mess.
Kirill couldn’t see her, couldn’t hear her. She’d tried to yell, tried to touch him, but the vampire didn’t even flinch.
Serafina had won. Flowing up to the window, Irina looked down into the brackish water of the moat. Beside the water, a trail led off into the forest, the footsteps clear as crystal in the snow. She still couldn’t believe that the sea monster had been human. Whatever curse Serafina had used to turn her into a sea monster, it had ended as the sorceress was digested. Irina had ghosted to the window just in time to see the woman crawl out of the water, stumbling a bit as she realized she was human again. Irina had desperately wanted to help her, but her cries had gone unanswered. She didn’t even have the strength to throw a blanket out the window.
“I packed the lady a bag with clothes, blankets, and some modest provisions.”
A tiny shriek of surprise erupted from Irina’s lips and she whirled around. Her jaw dropped as she found the
domovoi
standing behind her. It took more effort than she cared to admit not to step back at the sight of the small spirit, covered head to foot in black hair. His empty black eyes glinted at her from the darkness of his face, betraying not even the slightest emotion.
“What…what do you mean?” Irina managed finally, her voice only wavering a little. Her mind whirled as it occurred to her that the
domovoi
could see her. “You can see me?”
The
domovoi
offered a small nod. “You are the lady of the castle now, Mistress. You were distressed that you could not help Sonya, so I took it upon myself to make certain she was provided for. I spoke to a few fey who promised to lead her to the village where she will find shelter.”
“Her family?”
The
domovoi
furrowed his brow. “I believe they have all passed. She has been in Serafina’s care for nearly a century.” He tilted his head. “The villagers near this castle are kind. Do not worry about her.”
“You know her name. Sonya?”
The
domovoi
nodded.
“How can you know her name, know who she was, and not have helped her before?” Irina demanded, her body shaking with rage that had no where else to go. “All that time she was trapped in a monstrous body, held in Serafina’s moat like a ghastly pet. How could you bear that?”
“My realm is limited to the household,” the
domovoi
answered calmly. “I have little care for what is outside. And my former mistress was not the least bit bothered by Sonya’s transformation, so there was no reason that I should feel so.”
It didn’t make sense. Even a
domovoi
shouldn’t be that cold. Irina paused. Speaking of cold…
“How can I be your mistress if I am dead?” she asked quietly.
The
domovoi’s
eyebrows shot up. “You are not dead,” he said, his voice betraying his surprise. “You are asleep, yes, but not dead.”
“But Serafina said…”
The
domovoi
shrugged. “I’m sure if she’d known that Prince Kirill would throw her into the moat, she would have been more forthcoming.”
Irina furrowed her brow, looking from her body in the coffin to her incorporeal form. “But, I’m a ghost. How can I not be dead?”
“You are only half human. It is your human half that made you vulnerable to Serafina’s poison, but it is your other half that is letting you astral project. You are not a
ghost,
you are merely existing on a different plane.”
“How do I wake up so I can move about on this plane?” Irina
asked,
hope giving her voice an edge of excitement.
“I would not be concerned with that until you discover how to open the coffin.”
Her hopes shattered and dread wormed through her stomach. She hesitated before glancing back at the coffin, at her body lying so still and pale under the glass.
“Have faith, Mistress. The vampire seemed very keen on getting you out.”
A sad smile tugged at the corner of Irina’s mouth at the mention of Kirill. The sight of the vampire’s distress had warmed her heart. Until that moment, she’d actually managed to convince herself that she’d meant nothing to him. That all that had been between them was lust. But seeing his eyes, hearing his fury…perhaps he did care.
“Even if he does care, I’m afraid it will do no good,” Irina murmured finally. “Kirill is too practical. He may care for me, but he cares for his people as well, and he believes what is best for them is for him to be king.” She cleared her throat, annoyed that she could get choked up even when she was just a spirit. “To get the blood of the princes of the other four kingdoms, Kirill would have to make unbelievable bargains. He would never risk putting himself in such a vulnerable position.”
Suddenly the mirror shimmered. Without a sound, the
domovoi
vanished from sight, disappearing just before magic crackled from the mirror. Kirill stepped through, followed immediately by four other men. The first one had soft brown hair and golden eyes like a wolf. He was wearing a red shirt that seemed a size or two too small for him, and pants that did not fit much better. He tugged at the garments, grumbling something under his breath.
Next
came
a man with a mop of brown curls and a sparkle of mischief in his hazel eyes.
He quirked an eyebrow at the man in front of him.
“Etienne, you don’t have to wear my clothes. You’re obviously uncomfortable and, frankly, you’re going to ruin them if you don’t quit pawing at them. Just take them off and go skin to the wind. No one here is going to judge you.”
“Oh, for the love of the Great Wolf, Adonis, I am not going to parade around naked,” Etienne growled.
“Seems to me you parade around naked a lot,” Adonis pointed out. “I know it’s a werewolf thing, but if nudity bothers you so much, perhaps you should take Kirill up on his suggestion of hiding some clothes in the woods for these occasions?”
“I don’t have a problem with nudity,” Etienne snapped. “I just don’t think it’s appropriate in this situation.”
“You mean because Kirill told you to put some clothes on?” He grinned. “I guess the vampire prince doesn’t want you flaunting the royal jewels in front of his woman.”
Irina’s eyebrows, which had been steadily rising throughout the men’s conversation, shot up even farther. These men were here with Kirill?
His woman?
That train of thought was momentarily derailed when a third man stepped through the mirror behind the arguing pair. He flexed his wings, rustling white feathers and sending little currents of air through the room.
Wings
.
He’s an angel.
Towering over the others by nearly a foot—not even counting his wings—the blond giant kept shooting dirty looks at the grinning man in front of him. Adonis, Etienne had called him.
Behind the angel, a man with black hair and eyes as dark as coal followed the others.
There was a certain calm about him that was catching and Irina found herself settling despite her circumstances. Then the man looked at her and smiled. She jerked her spine straight. “Can you see me?”
“Yes,” he said softly.
The object of the angel’s ire jerked his head around, his eyes widening when he saw her. “Oh. Why hello there. I’m Adonis, what’s your name?”
“You…you can see me too?” Hope blossomed to life in Irina’s breath.
“Who are you talking to?” the angel asked suspiciously.
Kirill darted forward, grabbing the demon by the arms. “What is it? Who do you see?”
“Whoa, there, hold on, Your Highness,” the brunet said. “It’s a girl, dark hair, beautiful pale skin.” He winked at Irina.
“A real beauty.”
“Irina?”
Adonis leaned back, his eyes wide with confusion. “Who’s Irina?”
Kirill pointed to the coffin and Irina flinched.
“Oh,” the man said. He frowned. “Oh.” He looked back at Irina then at her body inside the coffin. Then he looked at Kirill. “
Ohhhhh
—”
“If you draw that out for one more syllable,” the angel snarled.
“Enough!” Kirill’s shout boomed in the room and the other men all turned to him. He gestured from the demon to the silent man. “You two, you can see her?”
“Yes,” the soft spoken man answered. “The spirit of the young woman in the coffin is standing there, behind that chair.” He smiled at Irina again. “Irina, I am Prince Saamal. You’ve met Prince Adonis, you obviously already know Prince Kirill. The gentleman with wings is Prince Patricio and our golden-eyed friend is Prince Etienne.”
Kirill whirled to face her and Irina’s heart leapt in her chest. She held her breath, praying Kirill would see her. The way his eyes flickered back and forth as he searched the area told her he did not. He turned back to the men.
“The woman in the coffin is Irina. Her stepmother put her under a spell and locked her in there and I need your help to free her.”
Didn’t mince his words there, did he?
Irina thought, a little surprised at the surge of affection she felt for the vampire. He was so bossy, even when he didn’t understand what was going on.
Etienne walked over to the coffin, leaning down so his ear was just over the glass. After a moment, he pulled back to stare down at Irina. Finally, he shook his head. “Kirill,” he said gently, raising his gaze to the vampire’s face. “She’s dead.”
Pain lanced Irina’s heart at the way Kirill’s body flinched at the other prince’s words. He straightened his spine and stared him down. “Do I look like a man who is deterred by death?” He focused on Irina’s body in the coffin. “Dead or not, she will not stay in there.”
“She isn’t dead,” Adonis corrected them. He gestured at Irina’s form hovering by the chair. “That is her astral projection, not her ghost.”
Kirill’s head snapped up. “Are you certain?”
Adonis crossed his arms. “Are you seriously asking an incubus if he can tell the difference between a ghost and an astral projection? Do I question your ability to tell the difference between a carcass and fresh prey?”
Before Kirill could respond, the mirror wavered. Irina’s heart clenched as Ivan’s irate face appeared, quickly followed by his six brothers.
“Oh, ho, what’s this?” Adonis asked, staring with interest at the seven dwarves.
Ivan shot him an irritated look before plunging the rest of the way through the mirror and crossing his arms. “What are we doing here,
Isai
?” he demanded over his shoulder. “Do you think that just because you’re a wizard that you can—” He stopped abruptly as his gaze landed on the coffin. Irina’s eyes
teared
up at the look of horror that blossomed on his face as he dashed across the room. Pasha was behind him and he let out a wail as he followed Ivan. In seconds the dwarves had surrounded the coffin and were wringing their hats in their hands as they stared inside.