Beauty's Cursed Sleep Read online

  Remus permitted an amused smile to play on his lips as he shook Cordray’s gloved hand. “Then you know who I am?”

  “Everyone knows who you are. You’re Remus Johnstone, the student who countered Malaura’s curse when Rory was born.”

  Remus stood a little straighter in his gray slacks, lavender dress shirt and loosened tie. “That’s correct. Then you must know how very closely I watch my niece. Her happiness is second only to her safety in my book.” His eyes tracked the leaves and twigs that levitated behind Cordray, suspended in air without obvious effort. A zip of fascination lit Remus’ features as he studied the display of Cordray’s magic.

  “Yes, sir.” Cord’s mouth stiffened, and he brushed his hand over his shoulder in a jerky motion, as if commanding nature to knock it off already.

  There was an uncomfortable pause, but then Remus’ face broke out into a wide grin. “Come on in. Tell me all about yourself.”

  “No,” Rory ruled, her face stern as she warned her uncle with her icy gaze that he shouldn’t interfere.

  “No?” Remus feigned shock, touching his chest with a scoff of disbelief. “I only want to meet the man who’s occupying your days. I’m hurt you wouldn’t want to introduce me.”

  “You’re going to interrogate him, and we only just met a week ago. Let it be fun before it’s dowsed in duty and all of our family’s seriousness.”

  Cordray stood straighter, his chest puffing. “Thank you, sir. I think I’ll join you,” he said, moving into the cabin with a look that told Remus he wasn’t going away. Then quietly to Rory, he added, “I told you last night that I wanted us to find a way to be together. I still don’t know how to make that happen, but I do know it’s never going to happen if you think I can’t handle your uncle ruffling my feathers a little.”

  Remus nodded at Cordray appreciatively and, noting the lack of squirreliness in the man, decided on the spot that any further teasing or strong-arming wasn’t necessary. In standing up to her family’s scrutiny, it was clear Cordray was settled enough with Rory that he wouldn’t be scared off easily when the press descended on the couple. Remus poured Cordray a mug of coffee and cleared off a space at the table, motioning for him to sit.

  Cordray waited until Rory took her place at the table, and then took the spot next to her, uniting himself with her to make it clear to everyone at the table that he was in this for Rory, and wouldn’t be dissuaded.

  The small exchanges of chitchat pushed Rory to reach for her napkin, so she could rest it on her lap and tear at the edges surreptitiously. Remus and Cordray talked about the weather, work, and about living in the country versus the city.

  “This is quite the hike from Rory’s home near the capital. Are you planning on keeping in touch after today?”

  Rory narrowed her eyes at her uncle. “This feels like a conversation that is none of your business.”

  Cordray reached over and laced his gloved fingers through hers, calming both their nerves. “Actually, I made a few calls last night. A friend of mine has a condo he’s not using that he’d be willing to rent out to me for a while. But I won’t move there unless it’s what Rory wants.”

  Rory’s sharp intake of breath erased Remus from her mind altogether. She took in the composed look on Cordray’s face with wonder. “Are you serious?”

  “About you? I thought I made it clear that I was very serious about us. I said I’d find a way to make this work, so this is my attempt. If it’s too much or too fast, I won’t do it. Entirely up to you.”

  Rory balked at him, turning in her chair, her knees bumping against his. “But you don’t like living near people.”

  “I could make my peace with it if it meant I got to see you on the regular.”

  Rory studied his face for signs of flight that might make for a grudging disposition if he was pushing himself into something he wasn’t ready for. But there wasn’t a trace of worry on his face, only a slight tightening of his gaze at her possible rejection. “Remus, could you give us a minute? Let’s go for a walk, Cord.”

  “Whatever you want, Story.” Cordray stood and offered his hand to her, ignoring Remus’ giddy grin as the two walked out together.

  The moment nature was their only witness, Rory whirled on him. “Tell me the absolute truth, are you going to resent me for making you move to the city? Because as much as I want to be with you, it’s not an option for me to pick up and move out here. I couldn’t reciprocate.”

  Cordray pulled her to stand in his embrace, his arms loosely coiling around her as if they’d been waiting for the chance to hold something they deemed precious. “First off, you’re not making me do anything. This was my suggestion because I know civilian life isn’t an option for you. But I understand that this is moving fast, so you have to be sure you want this, and then I’ll come out to the city to give us a shot.”

  Rory buried her face in his chest, reveling in the solid feel of him. “You’ll keep your cabin here, though, in case my life is too difficult for you?”

  “It won’t be, but yes, I’m keeping my cabin. Then if you want to escape, you won’t have to break a window to this place.”

  “I work,” she hedged. “I’m at the office a lot.”

  “You don’t say.” He drew her chin up so he could look into her eyes. “I work, too. And I get that you’ve got your own life. I just want to be part of whatever makes you smile.”

  Relief flooded Rory’s features, curving the corners of her mouth upward before she lifted herself onto her toes. The kiss was sweet at first – a promise of better things to come. The languid pace of their pledge awakened parts of them that had been largely untapped through most of their lives. That seemed to be the way with them – every kiss presented a new awakening.

  When Cordray’s arms tightened around her hips, Rory couldn’t help but draw her fingernails across the nape of his neck, coaxing out a guttural noise from him that drove her to deepen the kiss. Her lips parted slightly so she could sweep her tongue across his. Her body molded around his, bending and curving as his hand reached down to cup the back of her thigh.

  His breath was choppy, giving Rory a heady sensation of power that she felt finally ready for. So much of her life had been doomed and decided before she’d uttered her first word. To be able to throw life a curveball and live with such satiated hunger bloomed parts of her soul she’d assumed it was fine to live without.

  But now she knew better. She resolved herself that she wouldn’t hold back anymore. She wouldn’t resign herself to a mundane existence, but would chase after whatever it was that made her feel so very much alive.

  She kissed Cordray over and over, not caring how many minutes ticked by. For the first time, she was free, so she clung to the one who’d done his best to give her so many moments of passion, and hopefully, what would be many more to come.

  9

  Failing the Annual Exam

  “No, Lord Bartholomew, I don’t have a Pulse,” Rory droned, frustrated that she had to go through the questionnaire yet again. Every year, it was the same old stodgy man with thin-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his bulbus nose, looking like they might dive off his face at the slightest hint of a sneeze.

  Rory dipped into her pocket to run her fingers over the paperclip inside. It wasn’t just any standard silver fastener, but a gray coated one. Cordray had found out her favorite color and purchased a box of paperclips in her preferred shade. She’d received a golden music box from King Hubert on her last birthday, but the gift of paperclips had soared into first place in her heart. Of course, they were too special to use on like, paper, so Rory had taken to carrying one or two in her pocket at all times, just to remind herself that someone thought she was special enough to buy paperclips for. It was particularly helpful when she found herself in the throes of failing an exam.

  “No Pulse still,” the proctor noted, his wrinkled, fat fingers tensing as he scribbled in his notebook. “Not the slightest inkling of being able to shoot an impulse into another per
son?”

  “No, sir.” Next time, why don’t you just ask me if I’m useless?

  “Very well, Miss Aurora. Let’s see what you can do this year.”

  Rory pulled in a deep breath and let it slide through her parted lips in hopes it would center her, as Remus instructed. She’d seen countless others do this, and had gone through all the classes, but still, it did nothing to increase her magic output.

  “You’re to levitate the teacup, dear.”

  She loathed the sweetheart names the elders gave her. Everyone else on the council was called by their first name, title or surname, and was respected as an adult. She was spoken to as if she was still five years old, with an unfettered passion for wearing pigtails. Though, she had actually known the proctor since she’d been a little girl, so she tried not to be too annoyed with Lord Bartholomew’s old habits.

  Closing her eyes, she reached out her hands, wishing she would give herself a spontaneous aneurism or something to escape this annual reminder of her shortcomings. It was a full five minutes the proctor gave her. Because of who her father was, he’d even consented to conduct the test in her own home, to preserve her pride and the family’s reputation. Though, truly, everyone knew that she was the dud in the powerful family. There had even been gossip that not a single ounce of magic could be found in her blood. When Rory had read that gem years ago, she’d doubled her efforts at her Foundation, vowing that she would not be a joke to her people.

  Rory tried to push out the reminders of failure and rumors of doom, and refocused on the teacup, pleading with it to please, please, please just move already. “I’d like one more minute,” she requested with fire in her eyes when the proctor clicked his stopwatch and called time.

  “Take as long as you need, dear. I’ve got to pack up my notes, anyway. You gave it a good try.” Then he got out his phone and punched in three digits.

  The voice on the other end was loud, to compensate for Lord Bartholomew’s aged hearing. “Did she fail again?”

  “Yes. You can send in the replacement.”

  Her mother and father weren’t allowed in the room during the testing, only her tutor. Remus was firm with the proctor from his place in the chair, his fingers tented in front of his chest. “If the Chancellor’s daughter said she needs another minute, that’s exactly what you’ll give her.”

  Lord Bartholomew pushed his glasses up again, and shot Remus a withering look that made the saggy skin of his eyelids droop even further. “She can take all the minutes she likes, but that teacup’s not moving.”

  “Your disrespect will be noted,” Remus replied with a measured scolding to his tone. “Go on, Rory. Just like we practiced.”

  The minute came and went, and the teacup sat on the ornate end table – a giant middle finger in the face of Rory’s best efforts. She reached in her pocket and fingered the gray paperclip again, wishing her life could be a little less grim.

  When the tall brass doors at the back of the maroon-painted ballroom opened, the Baron strode in with a man Rory had never seen before on his heels. Being an alpha male was a given for many in the kingdom, but some of them took it to the extreme. The slicked black hair, brooding eyes, and jaw that was set to never crack a smile greeted her with a tight nod. The Baron was in his sixties, but his lack of congeniality made him seem about a hundred to Rory. “Miss Johnstone.”

  The proctor called Rory’s parents in, and they ran into the ballroom with hopeful looks on their faces. “Did she pass? How did it go? Rory, no matter what, we love you, and we’re so proud of you,” they said all at once as they hugged their only daughter. They bore matching black hair, fair complexions and unmitigated kindness in their eyes.

  Benjamin came in behind them, posting himself at the exit in his usual bodyguard demeanor. Ever since her escape into the woods, he’d scarcely let her out of his sight.

  The Baron looked down his nose at the indulgent exchange. “See, this is the problem. She did literally nothing, and she’s praised. Well, all that stops today. Remus, you’ve failed as her tutor. You’re officially dismissed.”

  Remus’ eyes hardened, but he didn’t give the Baron the stunned reaction the man was hoping for. “If only you could dismiss me. I’m not on your payroll, Baron. Four citizens have gone missing this month, and yet you’re concerning yourself with Rory. Don’t you think that’s perhaps… unusual for a grown man to think about a young woman so habitually?”

  Rory pursed her lips through her shudder at her uncle’s implications. She knew Remus made them only to needle at the Baron, who had a wandering eye for inappropriately younger women. She thanked her lucky stars for his utter hatred of her because her title would always be higher than his.

  The Baron raised his wet nose in the air. “Those four citizens are Lethals. It’s hardly the scandal you’re making it out to be. You know how Lethals are. They get fed up with a silver spoon not being handed to them, and they take off for obscurity. That, or they’re running from a crime they’ve committed.”

  “Tell me again about this enlightened view of the world you have,” Remus said as he rolled his eyes.

  The Baron’s tone turned harsh at the mild scolding. “Stop deflecting. You’ve failed, so you’re to step down as Aurora’s tutor. You’re being replaced by Tyren. He’s the best. Trained my son perfectly. Calvin graduated top of his class, and heads up the Society for the Future Elite.” The Baron’s bony hand motioned to the bull-like brick wall, who appeared to have zero personality. “Tyren is more than a capable tutor, and forgive me, but he uses his magic for practical things. He was working under the king’s advisor earlier this year. Tyren will be her new tutor, and he’ll get her all caught up to speed. Our Chancellor will have a family deserving of the hype, finally. If not, I see no reason why his rule should be passed down to Aurora, simply over the mere convenience of bloodline. Frankly, a Chancellor who can’t see how flawed the system is shouldn’t hold the highest chair on the council anyway.”

  Remus and Rory both looked as if someone had slapped them. Rory’s parents took offense at the slam on their family with their noses in the air and snarls on their lips. Mrs. Johnstone stepped back, but Mr. Johnstone took a bold step forward. “You dare insult me in my own home? Performing magic is but a portion of what we do for the world. If you want to vie for my position in the council, go after me, not my daughter. It shouldn’t matter whether or not she can cast charms. It matters that she can look at all the issues objectively, and is dedicated to serving the people.”

  “Ah, but you see, that’s where you’re wrong. If she cannot wield magic, then how can she be expected to make decisions that affect its uses? Do you see how much more of a problem it will be if we have a woman without a Pulse voting on magical issues? The proposal to install trackers in the Lupine was shot down by a margin of one measly vote.”

  Rory stood firm in her decision she’d made an impassioned speech about during the last council meeting. “The Lupine used to be humans, Baron. They should have every right to walk about freely, as we do. Would you like me deciding to put a tracker under your skin?”

  The Baron’s nostrils flared. “Dear girl, you are insufferable.”

  Rory raised her chin, determined not to disgrace her family. “Then I’ll forfeit my vote on all magical issues until I can perform charms, if that’s what it comes down to – if this is how petty you’re going to be. But you’ll leave my family out of this. My father is the best Chancellor Avondale’s ever seen. Unemployment is down, minimum wage is up, and even insufferable elitists like yourself have freedom of speech enough to run down whomever you wish. Tell me, Baron, do you enjoy the illusion of power? Does it make you feel like a big man to subtly threaten our family’s rule?”

  Benjamin stiffened from his spot near the exit, but didn’t interfere, his arms tucked behind his back. His job was to assuage physical attacks on the Chancellor’s daughter, not the verbal ones that cut her just as deep. He watched for any move that might be too close, just so he had the
opportunity to pounce on the Baron, who’d long proved to be an annoyance to his employer.

  Stefan postured beside his daughter. “It’s enough. If you wish to take my spot on the council, you’ll have to work far harder than running down my daughter over a blip in her long list of accomplishments. King Hubert decides if she is fit for her future post. If you cannot respect your king, then perhaps that’s something you should take up with him.”

  The Baron looked down his nose at Rory, and then glared at the Chancellor. “How your imagination does run away with you, Stefan. If Rory’s willing to forfeit her vote on all magical issues, I’ll take that as a win for the community as a whole.”

  “You’ll do no such thing, Rory,” her mother said with a protective arm around her daughter. Leah Johnstone had the same fire in her eyes, and grace enough to communicate it without shouting. “The council is shortsighted if they think non-magical people have no value to add. If anything, we should appreciate that there’s diversity on the council. The people as a whole take non-magical folk for granted. You act as if Rory can’t tie her own shoes.”

  “And you act as if all it takes to rule is tying one’s shoes.”

  Mrs. Johnstone let out a shrill noise of indignation. The temper in her eyes that she’d passed down to her daughter flared dangerously. “You’ll watch your words, Baron. My daughter founded and runs the largest organization that keeps our schools running and provides education to all of Avondale. If not for her, that burden would be on the government, whose budget cannot possibly stretch that far. My daughter has proved herself to be a fiscal asset to the council. You’ll not be dismissive of her contributions just because she ties her shoes differently than you.”

  The Baron had thin skin stretched taught across too many sharply-angled bones. “One of the tasks of the council is to regulate dangerous Pulsing. Your daughter has no value to us, and thus, neither does her vote.”