Exchanged Read online

  “No they don’t.” Callannon pulled her close, for his sake as much as her own. The tome was thick between them. “At least, not the people who matter. I’m still angry with Oberon about his little test, and Salda has hated me since before Venta stepped foot in court. This time, at least, we are both lying to them together.”

  “And to think I was never a good liar before meeting you.” Aubriel twisted in his arms and gave him a small smile. “I think you’re ruining me.”

  Callannon didn’t realize how tense he’d been until he caught himself relaxing at her smile. “Just wait until you’re the lady of this manor,” he whispered. “I’ll do nothing but ruin you.”

  He lowered his eyes before he could see her reaction. The book, its dust smeared and displaced, filled his vision instead. There were many practical reasons for him to hold on to Venta’s journal, reminding himself that he could never trust his heart to women in court being among the highest of them, but there was something else as well. “After our spat on the manor steps, Salda won’t rest until she finds something to use against me, and I don’t want that to be you.”

  Aubriel shifted the book into one arm and raised her hand to hold his face. “She can look all she likes, but she won’t find anything. Callannon, I don’t like that we have to worry about the illusion or if the captain might see through it.”

  Callannon nodded gravely. “You’re right; she won’t find anything. There’s a spell in this book more powerful than the one over you now. I think it was meant to be torn out and used once as a scroll in case of an emergency, and that’s exactly how we’ll use it. If this works, it will be the one good thing to come out of this journal.”

  ~*~

  The illusion spell would require so much energy to cast that Callannon was sure it would take effort not to fall asleep on his plate when dinnertime came. Aubriel fidgeted on the edge of his bed—their bed—as he carefully copied the spell into a book of his own. He would rather not be reminded of Venta’s many betrayals, but knowing that he might need the spell to keep Aubriel safe in the future was enough reason to make a duplicate.

  Carefully, he used a pen loaded with magic ink that neither smeared nor faded to draw the arcane symbols. Even with her journal and its intimate details, he still knew so little about Venta or what her long-term goals had been.

  There had been such passion between them. At the very least, Callannon had felt passion for her. She treated him well and had seemed loving, but he didn’t trust those memories anymore. Even still, he couldn’t shake the idea that they had at least a hint of something real, which made her betrayal all the more painful.

  As he studied the page of magic script, he recalled when he and Salda had come to blows the first time the captain snuck into Sagma House. Callannon had found her quickly—in part because of the magical wards Venta had recommended he set up—and ejected the captain from the manor, but he received a deep slash from the captain’s blade across his side in return. When Venta found him, she seemed genuinely concerned for him, she healed him, and she cared for him until he recovered. The small gifts of kindness she gave him, reading him his favorite book and singing songs for him, weren’t necessary from someone who was just using him.

  Sadly, her written accounts of their exchange and time in court were passionless and gave no clue to her personal thoughts. Reading her journal was like reading the middle of a boring, biased history book. It started and ended abruptly without context, and it only portrayed one side of what really happened. The only things made clear in the journal were that Venta wrote to an unnamed employer and that her purposes for infiltrating the court were to gain sway and pass along information. What end goal she wished to achieve after that was a mystery, as was exactly how the messages were transferred from her journal to her employer. Callannon couldn't count the number of times he perused the journal in hopes of finding some bit of goodness, maybe an admission that Venta truly had loved him. Nothing of the sort was to be found.

  Even if he had found a passage that confessed her love for him, Callannon supposed it wouldn't change what happened or what Venta did, and—until recently—that had made him angry. Even Oberon was still irked about what may or may not have happened to his advisor all these decades later, and he still took out his ire on those he thought responsible. Despite his wildly inappropriate methods, the king was a good friend, a best friend. Had any fey woman been in Aubriel’s shoes when the king made his offer, she would have either accepted and gone to Oberon’s bed or made a show of turning down the offer for the sake of attention.

  Not his exchanged.

  Aubriel kept her composure, rejected Oberon’s advance, and showed that she was a most trustworthy and beloved exchanged. The entire situation should have never happened, yet Callannon couldn’t help but be pleased by the outcome.

  “There,” he said, lifting his pen from the final stroke. “It’s done.”

  “You look tired already,” Aubriel said in concern, coming to his side. “Are you sure you want to do this now?”

  “Titania will be with us tonight and Salda likely with her. I won’t risk her seeing through the illusion over you. She hasn’t yet, but I won’t risk anything now that she’s even more suspicious of you.”

  “Alright, then let’s begin. I’m going to make sure you rest before leaving this room, and you’ll need time for it.”

  Callannon smiled at that. “Agreed. Stand over here and remove your clothes.”

  “Is that a requirement for the spell or a personal request?”

  He collected himself, smiled, and led her to the cool open floor of the washroom where the wavy windows let in more light and offered more privacy. “It’s part of the spell, I promise.” He would never turn down the opportunity to see her undressed, but the circumstances had him less than excited. “Toss your things off to the side. Once I begin, you will need to remain as still as you can until I complete the ritual. I’ll need to paint symbols on the floor around you and directly on your skin. Will that be acceptable?”

  “Of course,” Aubriel said with a lift of her chin.

  With a nod, Callannon picked up Venta’s book and gave a shake of his pen, turning the metal tip into a soft brush. With as steady a hand as he could manage, he began following the arcane instructions written in the spell. First he painted the appropriate symbols directly onto Aubriel’s small, soft body. He gently pressed the brush against her forehead and lifted, leaving an inky black circle. Another dabbed circle was applied to the hollow of her throat, and another to the middle of her abdomen.

  The most difficult part of the spell was painting the complex, interlocking circles over the slopes of her small arms and hands, but he started there and worked over her legs and down her back. When her body was properly painted—so covered in paint it was as if she wore clothes—Callannon moved to the floor and more quickly painted the arcs and lines of the spell. He already felt weary and hadn’t even gotten to the actual spellwork yet. Even more carefully than he had painted, he read the spell, which didn’t read in a straight line like text from a book.

  The circular dots on Aubriel began to glow and shimmer like black opals. The glowing spread like new water flowing through a stream as it reached the ground and continued along the inky marks. When all the ink was glowing, he recited the ending to the spell and lifted his hand toward Aubriel, feeding his magic into the illusion. As his magic poured forth, the glowing became bright enough that he was almost blinded. With a snap, the connection of his magic to the spell was severed, and the glowing was snuffed out.

  Quickly blinking his eyes of the large spots left behind from the light, Callannon cursed quietly. What had gone wrong? Did he give too much of his power? Had Aubriel been harmed? He looked up from the now-blank pages of the book to see a small fey woman standing in the middle of his washroom. Her hair was dusky pink, her eyes a bright green, and her facial features somewhat resembled those of Aubriel’s. He shook his head and strained to see past the illusion.

 
; “Callannon?”

  Her voice broke, and the illusion shattered. The spell was still around her, but he was able to see her just as she was—a mortal elf looking like she wanted nothing more than to go to him.

  “It’s alright,” Callannon said, closing the book with a tired sigh. “It’s done.”

  Aubriel shot from her spot and nearly knocked him back with the force of her hug. The warmth and weight of her solid form, no longer covered in paint, gave him comfort from the thought that it was Venta’s spell that allowed Aubriel greater protection. He was tired to the point of being bleary, but his exchanged was safe. That was all that mattered.

  “I was thinking while you were casting the spell,” Aubriel said into his chest.

  “A dangerous pastime.” He let his hands run down her bare skin to splay at the small of her back.

  She gave a halfhearted chuckle that trailed off pensively. “I think you should tell Oberon about me. That I'm mortal.”

  A cold spike of fear pierced Callannon’s heart. “No.” He clutched her tighter. “I'm not going to lose you.”

  The thunderous sound of spells echoed in his ears from a lifetime ago, long before Aubriel. He felt himself running to put himself between Oberon and the unseelie attackers, casting his most powerful and deadly spells in response. They had underestimated Callannon and Salda’s powers to protect the queen and king. The fey of the Summer Court overtook their foes and won, but not before people were hurt and killed.

  A blink, and time shifted. He was running through the halls of court, searching desperately for Venta, unable to find her. Without warning, something lifted from him that he hadn't known was there. He was too disoriented and in shock to recognize the oddly familiar and arcane feeling of a charm spell lifting. Ignoring it, he ran out into the dusk and found Oberon. His friend led him to the scarred remains of a spell blast against stone and ground.

  There lay Venta, eyes open but motionless. She didn't look like herself anymore as he stared at the dead unseelie woman, but Callannon knew it was her because of the sapphire necklace resting on her chest. It was the only thing about her that looked the same, and his later investigations would confirm Venta’s deceptions. He closed his eyes to try to unsee the dead woman, but Aubriel’s figure replaced Venta’s in his memory, her green eyes dull and lifeless.

  “You're not going to lose me,” Aubriel said, wiping tears from his face he hadn't known were there and snapping his attention back to the present. He opened his eyes and focused his watery gaze on her. “You’ll never lose me. But if we don't show Oberon honesty, if he hears this from Salda, you might lose everything else.”

  “You're more precious to me than everything else.”

  “I know.” She smoothed his hair back. “Do you trust me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then trust that I know this is right.”

  ~*~

  Oberon sat comfortably and watched as his wife danced with the foreign royals to the tempo of his lute. A flask and wine goblets were strewn about the dining room table, none of them empty thanks to Callannon’s excellent staff. Despite himself, he found his eyes wandering to the skirts swishing around Titania’s thighs, revealing bits of her delicate flesh as she swayed and clapped along to Ginette and Jekob’s dancing.

  Unusually, she had not lashed out at him or attempted to rip power from him during their meetings that day, something he had been sure would happen in excess after their conversation the previous night. She was probably displaying good behavior because of this treaty business and would revert to her normal, clawing self the moment the document was signed. Then again, it was possible her unusual treatment of him was prompted by the extraordinarily rare way he awakened her that morning, kissing her between where those lengthy thighs met until she lay wide-eyed and gasping.

  He may have done it out of guilt, but that was something he didn't feel around Titania often. On those occasions it struck, he needed to please her, and she rarely resisted him. Callannon had been right about hearing Oberon share pleasure with the queen in the court meeting rooms those weeks ago, but those encounters were born from anger and desperation. They were a part of the battle he and his wife waged with each other.

  Titania was many things, but stupid and ignorant were not among them. When she withheld information about Venta, she endangered her husband, her kingdom, and a most dear friend. Rather than tell Oberon what she knew—or hadn't known—she remained silent and gave him nothing. It was as if she didn't care how close to ruin, to death, they had all come. Her betrayals didn't excuse his, but it made him feel better to know she was at least half the reason their marriage was unhappy.

  So when she confronted him last night, made him look guilty of betrayal and herself blameless, he hadn't thought before acting. He’d become angry, but inside, the fear of openly displaying his infidelity overtook him. An apology for his harsh words would mean nothing to her, and she might feel she had been right about his time in the gardens. What was he to do to ease his guilt and her pain? To ease how all-consumingly he missed the loving Titania he could trust?

  But then something happened that he hadn't expected. The barrier in his mind—that which held the good memories back and allowed him to think only of the pain and distrust between them—broke. That morning, the moment he tasted her, felt her responding to him unconsciously, heard her sleepy moans, he was lost. It had been a long time, but he didn't think that he would be drawn from his defenses with just one taste. That was all it took.

  Once started, Oberon’s desire for Titania burned brightly along with the need to slowly and agonizingly draw out her pleasure until he felt her pulsing against his tongue. He couldn’t get enough of her or how her body couldn’t hide what she truly felt. When he pulled up to move over her, she simply stared at him with a blank, frozen expression. She became inscrutable to him in just a moment.

  “Titania?” He cupped her face with a hand.

  The touch of their skin shocked her from whatever thoughts she had. She grasped his aching cock and drew him carefully to her. How could he refuse his wife?

  Eagerly, he filled her over and over again as she wrapped her legs around him and kept him close. How long had it been since they made love in a bed? Rather, how long since they made love instead of just fucking? Gods he’d missed that.

  Oberon climaxed just moments before she reached hers for the second time. Afterward, he rested his weight on her, not wanting her to escape, not wanting the moment to end. It was a knock at the door by a staff member that finally forced them to jump up and dress quickly, giving them no opportunity to discuss or reflect on what happened.

  Cries of excitement snapped Oberon from his thoughts. Ginette, Jekob, and Titania cheered as Callannon and Aubriel walked into the dining room, looking bemused. His advisor gave a tilted smile. “I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to start without us.”

  “Always,” Oberon said with a laugh. “We don’t need you to have fun.”

  “Fun? You’re just sitting there.”

  Oberon gave Callannon a narrow look, but stood and set the lute down on the chair. It kept playing on its own as it had been. Everyone knew that King Oberon was the life of any party, and he liked to keep it that way. With a graceful leap, he landed on the table, careful to avoid the goblets.

  “Don’t scuff it!” Ginette warned.

  “Of course not. I’m light on my feet.” He turned and offered a hand to Titania. “Will you join me?”

  To his surprise, she grabbed his hand and joined him on the table. Aubriel and Callannon joined in the clapping as Oberon spun his wife about the table, dancing faster and faster. Titania laughed drunkenly but moved with grace and agility.

  “Now you’re just showing off,” Jekob said.

  “Why don’t we show them?” Ginette replied.

  With two light thuds, the Deepwood royals jumped on the table and joined in the dancing. If only all foreign relations were held this way! Oberon pulled Titania against him and kissed
her impulsively, just to see what she would do. Either he was very good at kissing or it was the last thing she expected because she misstepped and nearly fell off the table.

  “Lord Thray?” The housekeeper stood at the kitchen entrance, her face amusingly astonished.

  “We’ll be ready for dinner shortly, Mrs. Delia,” Callannon assured.

  “Of course. I’ll have the table sterilized before the first course is served.”

  Oberon helped Titania off the table and kept her against his side. She was practically pitched over with intoxication. Callannon shot him a quizzical look that asked, What’s going on, and why are you holding your wife?

  Naturally, Oberon gave Callannon a look that said, Because she’s my wife, and she feels spectacular pressed against me.

  Once the table was scrubbed and sealed with spells that Oberon didn’t know existed, they sat for dinner. It wasn't until the second course was served that he noticed Callannon and Aubriel were too quiet. He tightened the lid on his flask and tossed it their way. Aubriel snatched it out of the air without looking up from her plate and handed it to Callannon.

  “You're rather dexterous,” Ginette said with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “Wouldn't you agree, Lord Thray?”

  Callannon unstoppered the flask and tipped it into his mouth for many moments, downing the strong but delicious substance. “Miss Aubriel is quick to notice new things.”

  “It's just something I learned in my trade,” Aubriel said.

  “Miss ‘Briel,” Titania slurred. “You must try the Blooming Brandy.” Oberon put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from swaying. “There's nothing like it in the Forgotten Mists, I'm sure.”

  With a gentle pluck, Aubriel retrieved the flask from Callannon and sniffed its contents. “It's like...springtime,” she said, “when all of the flowers are open after a fresh rain.” She took a swig, then marveled at the flask.