Iron Heinrich Page 7

  This time, it did not.

  The man darted away from Julia at the last second. “Princess Silvia,” he said, his tone speaking of a friendship they did not have. “I hoped to meet you. Your beauty is legendary throughout all of Lonterra.”

  She didn’t like liars, and she especially didn’t like men who thought a hollow compliment would flatter her.

  Looking past him, she asked, “What is this?”

  “Druan Kimmler, at your service,” he said, cutting Julia off.

  Silvia waited for the knight’s response anyway. “He’s one of Hagnesophia’s minions.”

  Scowling, she looked at the man and said, “It seems like we’re being overrun by Ferrians.

  Kimmler’s face tightened and he moved to take a step toward her. Julia grabbed him by the arm and hauled him back.

  Silvia didn’t bother to say goodbye, she turned and walked away, only looking back when he made a ruckus.

  “You should talk to your newest guest.” He said, scowling and as she walked away, he shouted after her. “Ask him if he’s going to try to kill you too.”

  Silvia tried to ignore the man. Heinrich didn’t look like a killer—then again, she wasn’t sure she knew what a killer looked like—she probably should check in on him.

  Turning down a bisecting corridor, she back tracked through the palace, saying good morning to the few people she met. Only two of them rolled their eyes when they thought she wouldn’t notice.

  Her door was closed—as it always was—and though it was locked, she slipped a key from her pocket and slipped into the room she’d turned over to Heinrich without knocking.

  She couldn’t risk being seen, not if her mother’s spies included maids and staff, which they most surely did.

  She leaned back against the door as it closed and stared into the darkness, letting her eyes adjust.

  The bed’s curtains were pulled shut as were those over the windows. The dark fabric still let in rays in the cracks between the long fabric panels. Walking quietly to the curtain farthest from the bed, she pulled it open and toward the thick draperies surrounding the bed.

  “Heinrich?” she whispered, hands on the curtains of the bed she hadn’t slept in for years.

  He made a sleepy noise and she pulled the drapes open an inch. “Can we talk?”

  “Might as well.”

  She pulled the drapes back to their posts. He had one arm thrown over his eyes, the shirt he wore was new, a crisp white and it made his skin look pink. Her eyes traveled to his lips, plump from sleep and utterly kissable.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she watched his face as he pulled his arm away and looked at her with eyes hooded from his slumber.

  “What are you doing here?” Heinrich asked without getting up.

  His face was slack, though a line ran up the side of one cheek from where the pillow’s crease had temporarily marked him. She cursed inwardly. Sleeping with Max had not changed her desire to crawl into bed with Heinrich.

  “I—” why was she here? Oh right. “I came to ask how the search went.”

  “It was unfruitful.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Danae wasn’t. Apparently she wants to follow me through that infernal forest for as long as it takes. I get the feeling she thinks the longer it takes, the better.”

  Nodding, Silvia clasped her hands. “I give her until day three before she starts suggesting that you give the item up for lost and let it go.”

  “You think it will take that long? I expected it this morning.”

  She nodded, “My mother is patient about most things… she would let you look for an eon if it means you’ll stay.”

  “You mean if she thinks you’ll be able to distract me enough that I give up.” There was something rueful in his smile.

  She didn’t know what to say to that. She couldn’t deny it, but didn’t want to agree to it either.

  “Are you going to stay in bed forever?” she asked, wheedling him with a smile.

  “I only search at night, and I’m not exactly from a friendly country. I don’t want to get in the way, or cause trouble.”

  He shifted and she saw spots of blood on his shirt. She paused, watching his stiff movements before she said, “You’re hurt.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Clearly it’s not. Take the shirt off.”

  “You know, Ivy spent half of last night implying that I should seduce you… and here we are with you trying to get me out of my clothes.”

  “Ivy should learn to mind her own business, and you should learn to do as you’re told.”

  He cocked a brow at her but finally shook his head and pulled the bloodied thing off himself.

  Delicious smooth skin covered over with a thin dusting of hair and freckles, his chest ended suddenly below his pecs.

  Wrapped around his middle was a mechanical contraption that could only be described as a corset. She reached out but stopped herself before she touched it.

  More iron. Glancing up at the ceiling in spite of herself, she wondered how they were connected. She was selfish enough she wouldn’t ask.

  *

  As the first person to see the corset outside of himself, Heinrich gauged her reaction. If she was disgusted, it didn’t show on her face. That held only curiosity and concern.

  She stared at it, her trembling hand held out, an inch from the metal. “Does it hurt?”

  He could have lied to her, set her mind at ease, but the blood on his shirt would have given him away. “Yes.”

  She looked up at him, silver slicked eyes searching his. “Will it hurt you if I touch it?”

  He shook his head and waited.

  Instead of closing that tiny gap, she dropped to her knees and held his hips, looking at the gears that ran a trail up his front. His groin tightened at the proximity, his abdominal muscles contracted and he forced himself not to step back. The movement of his stomach pulled him away from the metal, but did nothing to loosen it.

  She fished a pair of glasses from her skirt and put them on, choosing lenses from a host of options that articulated away from the ones made of clear glass. “Interesting.”

  Pursing his lips, he forced himself to not ask what she found interesting. When Max got like this, he ignored everything else.

  “What, in your opinion, is the average rate of tightening?”

  He looked down at her. Max didn’t ask questions. “I’m not sure. It’s cinched twice since I was spelled three days ago, I imagine it will tighten every day until it kills me. It does seem to happen at the same time each day.”

  “Do you know how much it moves?”

  He shook his head.

  Grimacing, she looked around her and hopped up. “There has to be something in here I can use.

  Opening the dresser drawer, she rifled through the extra sheets for the bed and other sundry items. From the very bottom drawer, she produced a coil of ribbon. What it was meant for, he had no idea. Snatching it up, she returned to him.

  She dropped back to her knees in front of him and uncoiled the blue line of fabric. “I’m going to measure you now, and you let me know when it cinches so I can start getting data. The more we know, the better chance I have of finding a way to get that thing off you.”

  “Off me?” He stared at her, and for a moment he thought she was joking.

  Her head dropped to one side and she squinted at him through eyes made huge by the glasses. “You don’t want it to crush you, do you?”

  “Of course not.” But he didn’t know why she would care.

  “Then we’ll have to find a way to get rid of it.”

  Heinrich took hold of her hand before she started. “You don’t have to help me.”

  “I’m not going to let you die because I don’t have to do something.” She pulled her hand away. “Besides, I don’t get to work with iron much, if ever.”

  Her smile faltered. There was something she wasn’t saying. He ignored it. He had his secrets, she
could keep hers.

  She placed the ribbon around the top of the corset, pulled it tight, and marked off where it met. “Once I have more data, I’m going to calculate how fast it’s decreasing… do you want me to tell you when I find out?”

  He bit his tongue, weighing the pros and cons and nodded. “Better to know how long I’ve got than to squander the time in ignorance.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.” She looked up at him with a smile, still on her knees.

  That was a very bad place for her to be—it brought thoughts to mind that might not be welcome. Taking her hand, he helped her upright and he paused there, enjoying the warmth of her fingers.

  She stepped back, an unlikely, shy smile on her lips.

  Tossing the ribbon on the bed, she glanced at the pile of clothes stacked on the nearby wingback chair.

  “You should probably get dressed.” She said still stepping tentatively backward.

  One moment she was fine, the next, her face twisted in concern and her hands flew out to the side. She’d tripped on one of his discarded boots and he barely managed to catch her. Upright, she was too close to him. Swallowing, she glanced down at his lips and her tongue darted out to moisten her own.

  “What the hell,” she said, and she leaned in, her lips brushing against his.

  Carefully, he kissed her back. He couldn’t let himself do the things he’d dreamed about—the things she’d woken him from.

  He pulled away from her and her eyes were fixed on his lips. Her tongue traced her own, as if catching his flavor.

  Gods he wanted to enact the shattered memories of his dreams, but with the corset, he didn’t even know if he’d be able to.

  “Is that all?” she asked when she finally looked up to meet his eyes.

  That was enough of an invitation for him. He pulled her in, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other sliding up to grip the back of her head. He worked her mouth until she opened to him, and as her tongue slid along his, he let the hand on her back wander lower until he cupped her ass through the fabric of her skirt.

  Pressing her against him, his cock stirred. Silvia brushed her hips against his and smiled through the kiss. He liked this far too much.

  She moaned against his mouth and her fingers splayed over his chest.

  If she wanted him as badly as he wanted her….

  He pulled away, cursing himself, but didn’t let go of her. Staying silent wasn’t fair to her.

  “Silvia, I—” he took a deep breath. “There’s someone else. They wouldn’t care about this, but… you make me want more and I won’t do that to you without your understanding.”

  “That’s okay, I’m . . . seeing someone else as well.”

  Her words were hesitant.

  And she must have read his mind because she quickly added, “I mean, I’m not looking to marry either of you… but I have needs, and I think you both could satisfy them.” The smile that touched her lips then was tantalizing.

  A heavy knock on his door brought a squeak from Silvia, and she pulled quickly away from him. Sitting hastily in the nearby wingback and looking pointedly away.

  Pulling on his pants and a clean shirt, he made sure the corset didn’t show through before he opened the door.

  Ivy strolled in and spared a judgmental glance toward Silvia. It quickly turned into a knowing grin, and Heinrich wondered if he would have to shove the knight back out the door.

  Before he could ask what she wanted, Ivy tossed him a handkerchief and pointed to her mouth.

  “You’re going to want to clean that off before the queen sees it. And she wants to see you.” Glancing toward Silvia, she added, “Only you.”

  SIX

  Three nights had passed. Each day, Silvia disappeared for hours on end, but she always came back and was at her work table when he transformed, engrossed in a project. She quickly shuffled it away and set to work asking him questions and pulling out different texts. Tonight was no different.

  Again, as the clock in the corner chimed, she slipped down the stairs and out to retrieve food for them both.

  He’d stopped asking her about her day in the rest of the palace. She had her secrets and he wasn’t going to ferret any of them out until he figured out how to tell her who he actually was. He’d waited too long and now every attempt felt awkward and bumbling.

  Maximillian pulled the notebook closer, examining Silvia’s drawings and scribbled text. He had only managed to decipher a handful of words. It was like the thing was written in code.

  He couldn’t decide if that was endearing or the most frustrating thing he’d encountered.

  Pulling at the collar of his shirt—the clothes Silvia had brought him were tolerable, if a little too tight in the shoulders—he dipped the pen back in the ink well and continued to translate.

  An hour or so later Silvia pushed through the doors. She held a tray of food, and though he wasn’t really hungry, he gave her a quick smile of appreciation before turning back to the text. He was certain he was reading her shorthand incorrectly.

  She set the tray down and walked around behind him, studying the pages in front of him.

  “Writing poetry based on my notes?”

  The translations did look more like the ravings of a frustrated bard than that of a scientific inquiry.

  “I’m beginning to think this is gibberish meant to drive me mad.”

  She pointed to the page and dragged her finger along the line of text as she read. “Gearing too loose, consider smaller, tighter manufacture.”

  He glared at the page and tried not to say something foolish. She no doubt already thought he was a bit silly.

  “Why are you bothering with that anyway?”

  He froze. She had moved away to the other corner of the room and was sorting through a stack of books. Without giving himself away, how could he help her?

  Blowing out a breath, he decided a half truth and an omission was the best course of action. “I’m stuck here and I spend my days as an iron frog. Why wouldn’t I try to help?”

  She shrugged and turned back to him with a heavy tome in her hand. “Eat something.” She pointed to the tray. “Even if you’re not hungry. I don’t want you to waste away before we get you back to a full-time man.”

  Taking a pastry, he bit into the crust and went to the window. Filled with meat, cheese and a thick sauce, it reminded him that food was indeed necessary, and in response his stomach growled too loudly. He glanced back at the tray where the rest of the food waited for him. One thing at a time.

  Moonlight bathed the surrounding forest in silvery light and a gentle breeze swept around him and set the leaves rustling.

  In the courtyard below, a figure in a dark cloak moved quickly through the yard. A knight sent with a message for some dignitary? A stable hand sneaking off to meet his lover? Whoever they were, their freedom rankled him in a way he hadn’t thought possible.

  Even the trio of knights, saddled and heading for the front gate annoyed him.

  It was silly. He knew that, and still couldn’t help feeling like the world had dealt him a sour hand.

  Silvia let out a disbelieving snort behind him and when he turned around, she was scowling at the book in her hand. As he walked to her side, her brow furrowed and she looked up at him.

  “You’ve been keeping secrets from me, Maximillian.”

  Glancing down, he saw the fairy text, his face etched in the pages by a magical illustration. Of course she’d go looking at Hagne’s line to see if there was someone who might be better at working with iron than she was.

  He swallowed the guilt that had worked its way up into his throat. There was no point in denying something that was written in a fairy text.

  “My stepmother cursed me to be an iron frog… I’m not big on trust right now.” He glanced at her. “Sorry.”

  Her mouth pursed and eyes narrowed, she studied him for a moment. “I guess that makes sense.”

  “Now that you know… do you need to inform someon
e?”

  “Not yet. You have your secrets… you are a secret of mine. Setting the book aside, she shuffled through some papers. “Those should be easier to read. I was tired. The handwriting might be sloppy, but they’re full words and sentences.”

  She adjusted the lenses on her glasses and then handed them to him. “I read them with these.”

  He slipped the too-small glasses on and the lenses immediately showed him tidy lines of writing that made perfect sense.

  “Try not to spill on them.”

  He scanned the pages. Nothing in them seemed to be useful to his specific predicament, though there were some clear indicators that this had happened before and the person in question—he had been turned into a golden lizard—had survived… when the fairy who’d cursed him was coincidentally killed by another person.

  The cold air floating through the windows left his mind pleasantly clear.

  Leaning on the window again, he looked toward Ferrian. Heinrich was out there, somewhere. Whether he was searching the forests and market towns, or locked away by Hagnesophia… Max couldn’t get to him. They needed to figure out how to end the enchantment so that he could start his search.

  Glancing back over his shoulder, he wondered if he could convince Silvia to go searching with him. She had obligations here, but until her father died, she wouldn’t be required to rule.

  “Would you ever consider taking two husbands?” He asked the question without thinking and then tensed when he waited for her answer.

  A strange look crossed over her face and for a moment, he thought he’d said the wrong thing.

  Silvia turned back to her work. “I have considered it.”

  It wasn’t a strange thing in Argentelle. No one would bat an eye.

  “When we find a way to fix this, I’d like you to meet my other half. I think you’d like him.”

  “Would I?”

  “We’ve talked about finding the right woman to complete us.”

  “And you think that’s me?”

  “I think,” he said pulling her to her feet and kissing her neck, “That last few nights have proved we’re good together… adding a third might make this perfect.”

  He trailed his hand down the side of her neck where he’d just kissed her and then cupped her breast, ducking down to kiss the soft curve of skin his hand supported. He should be working to fix his curse, but touching her…. It made him lose all sense of reason.