Page 33 of The Princes of Stone and Steel

Something in the way he said that, like I picked up a hint of defeat in his tone, bothered me. I was willing to put all my faith in Steele, but I needed some assurances first. Wasn’t it about this time in the movies when the hero made some crazy decision like splitting himself and the heroine up?

My life was no movie, but I felt his well-intentioned motives inching up on us. No. Absolutely no. I refused to be a spectator in my own life. “Okay. I’ll go to sleep, but promise me something first, prince. Promise that you meanwe. That you’ll keep me with you. That we’re a team.”

He rolled us in order to lie flat on his back with me tucked up next to him and he bent in to peck my cheek. “You read me to well, too, Mils. I won’t lie, the thought crossed my mind, but I can’t know if you’re okay if we’re separated and that would make me lose my mind. I promise I meanwe. Partners all the way. For life, Mils.”

For life. That thought scared me as much as it excited me. I was Prince “Steele” Aureus’s true mate and he loved me. On that thought, a much nicer thought, I allowed myself to drift off to dreamland.

Noises from the kitchen roused me. Steele was already up, not lying next to me. I stretched, allowing the warmth from the new logs on the fire to warm me through before standing to face the day.

The prince stood at the stove stirring a pot of what smelled like oatmeal. He smiled big as I entered the kitchen, looking proud. And it occurred to me that he’d probably never performed a manual task in his life. That was what servants were for.

“Morning, prince,” I said.

“Morning, my love.”

“Where’s Tom?”

“He went out to feed the sheep. I’m in charge of breakfast.”

“I didn’t know you cooked.”

He chuckled. “I don’t. Or didn’t. Now I cook oats. We added raisins. Tom thought it would be a nice touch. I agreed.”

“Have you ever eaten oatmeal before?” I loved meeting this Steele.

“Only when I came here to look for you. My father called it ‘servant fare.’ But I quite like it. Tom showed me what to do before he left.”

It wasn’t hard to find the bowls, as Tom’s cupboards lacked doors, though each was lined with pretty paper. I got the feeling a woman used to live here, too.

No wonder it didn’t take much pushing from Steele for Tom to let us stay. He probably missed having people around. I grabbed our bowls, spoons from a pullout drawer and cups for tea.

“Should we wait for Tom?” I asked.

“No. He said to go ahead without him.”

We ate. About halfway through our meal, the back door opened and Tom joined us.

“I’m heading into town, need more grain. If you two want to join me, you can ride along,” Old Tom offered.

I looked down to the too large sleep pants I had on then to Steele, who wore jeans and an old sweatshirt and not the clothing he slept in, before answering. He nodded at me then answered for us. “Do you have something for the lady to wear?”

“Might have something.”

“Then, sure. We’d love to come.”

The old man walked through the kitchen and the living room, finally ducking inside his bedroom. After about five minutes he came out with a par of gray sweatpants. They’d be large on me like the sleep pants, but I saw a pull string at the waist and elastic at the cuffs. I changed in the bathroom then joined the men.

Since I was sure Steele preferred for us to stay hidden, he must have thought of some way to get a message to Korrigan. He’d have to tell me once we were alone. Until then, I’d have to trust him.

That wasn’t hard. Of every one in my world or his, Steele was the person I trusted the most.

Fifteen

When a thousand-year-old-looking hag transforms from a raven…

ILOOKED LIKE A CLOWN IN MY BAGGY SWEATS, OVERSIZED Henley and delicate, gold sandals as we walked along the cobbled street of the quaint little town. Tom tried several times to get us to pronounce the name correctly, but to no avail.

Unlike what I’d been used to back in Michigan, these buildings were all connected, but not in the typical brick or block rectangle construction. White plaster fronts and long windows. None of the shops had awnings. I could tell they’d been standing as sentries for centuries. They reminded me of the post office, leather shop and barracks inside of Fort Michilimackinac. I’d seen them online while using the school’s computers to plan out vacations that I knew Aunt Cynthia would never take me on instead of doing homework.

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