Love For the Faerie King's Daughter: Brothers Book Two

Chapter 1 The Realm     The Fool eyed the High King with distaste, nose wrinkled like a bad odor wafted through the room. "You lie!" The shout was more of a roar, his anger was that raw.     "I do not," the High King said nonchalantly. "I do have an heir, and she will rule in my place."     The Fool's eyes burned red, and, the High King was sure, smoke came out of his nostrils and ears. In a very childish fit of rage, he stomped the floor with his cloven feet, a string of nasty curses in Gaelic spewing forth. When he was done, he turned to face the monarch. "And who is this heir? Where is she?" He straightened his spine, looked down his nose at the other man.  "This is not some kind of fabrication of yours, is it?"     The High King snorted, indignant. "It is not a fabrication. It is the truth. And she is hiding in plain sight."     The Fool's mouth curved into a wicked grin, a knowing smile. "In plain sight?" He drew himself up, hands on hips. Those dark orbs narrowed at the monarch. "Well, now, we shall see just how worthy she is." And, with that, he vanished from sight.     "ACH! What hae ye done?" came a loud cry.  "Ye hae doomed her fer sure!"      "Oh, quit being so dramatic, Puck!"  The High King sat back in the seat. "I hate that i***t's pompous attitude."    Then, he smiled. "I did exactly what I needed to do to stir her into action."     Puck clickety clicked his hooves. "Ye are goin' t' give her a headache!" The little faun looked up at the King.  "And what about her dam?  She will not let this lie!"     Those green eyes glared down at Puck. "She knew the consequences. She cannot thwart this. Neither can the girl."     Puck snorted.  "We'll see.  I know the woman, hae watched her fer years.  The girl is just like her mother."     At this, the High King paled a bit. Oh, he had not thought about that. That woman did have an attitude worthy of any Faerie, but she was also a bit too headstrong.  If the girl was like her mother....  He rubbed his eyes.  "Then, it will be a test for her.  One I am sure she will pass."     Puck just shook his head.  "Oh, aye, I am sure.  But, methinks this be a mess a-startin' already."     From the start, it was not a good day.       It had all started when Cailleagh Flannery stubbed her toe on the shower door. Then, she discovered her coffee maker had decided to pee all over the counter.   After that, her cordless phone battery went to battery heaven.  To top it all off, her mother called her cell to inform her that she was to help in the shop on this day. Not that she minded helping her and her brother, Patrick, at Crow & Dragon, their new age shop. But sometimes, her mother forgot to tell her the day before Cail was supposed to help.  She tended to spring those things on her at the last minute.       She silently wished the faeries who presided over coffee pots, dead batteries, and mothers would fix things for her. But just like everything else in faerie lore, the Fey were unpredictable.     Faeries were a big part of her life.  She had grown up hearing about their tales of mischief and magic from her mother, Moira Flannery, who was a great believer in the Realm of the Fey.   She insisted that these things were true, even though most people nowadays didn't believe in them.       Cailleagh herself was open-minded about it, although she had never seen any evidence of such things.  She didn't doubt her mother, even if her mother was trying sometimes.  Moira was a firm believer in certain things, and that usually meant there was no swaying those beliefs.     She was still cursing the dead phone battery and broken coffee pot when she left her apartment.  She was always in a bad mood when she didn’t have her morning coffee. She parked the car, as always, in the public parking lot near the shop. She paid for the day and walked the two intersections to the store.  Cail eyed the café next door, and began fishing in her purse for her wallet.  She must have coffee.       Before she had even maneuvered into the café, she found herself bumped into.  She found herself stumbling and clutching her wallet.  She landed on her rump.     “I’m sorry,” a masculine voice apologized.  “Here, let me help you.”     Cail looked up into a pair of the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen.  They were a warm, soft hazel- brown and framed by extremely long eyelashes.  “Oh,” she said, feeling herself blush under his intense gaze. “Thank you.” She took the strong hand that was offered and he pulled her to her feet.  Upon standing, she saw his face with the cute dimple in his chin.  Okay. That did it.  She was a sucker for dimples.     “Guess I should watch where the hell I'm going, huh?” he quipped.     She was too busy looking at the dimples on his stubble-covered face.  “Oh, well, I wasn’t looking either.”  For a moment, she had forgotten why she was there.     He ran a hand through his close-cropped, dark hair.  “I’m Joseph,” he said, holding the other hand out.  “But you can call me Joey.”     Cail took that hand.  “Oh, I’m Cailleagh Flannery.”     “Kaylee?”     “Close.  It sounds the same, but it’s spelled differently. It’s Irish.”     “Hi,” he beamed.  “Come on, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”     Joseph Royo held out his hand to the most beautiful woman he'd seen in a while.  And it had been a very long while since he had looked at any woman.  "Come on, I'll buy you a cup of coffee,"  he said, smiling at her.     She hesitated for a moment, but then put her hand in his and nodded.  "Ok," she said, a pretty blush creeping across her cheeks.  "I had a vanilla coffee with lots of cream,"  she offered.     He grinned at her.  "Let me guess, Irish?"     She blinked at him.  "How did you know?" she asked teasingly.     Joey's heart did a thump when she smiled and her green eyes glittered .  "Lucky guess," he smiled back.  He opened the door for her, let her go in first.     Once inside and seated at a table, coffee in hand, he noticed how she relished the drink.  "Having coffee withdrawal?" He watched her as she looked up at him with a sheepish grin.  "It's that good?"     Cailleagh Flannery rolled her eyes at his joke.  "My coffee pot is misbehaving," she replied. "It decided to pee on my counter top."     Joey let out a hearty laugh.  "Ah, now I understand.  Bad coffee pot.  Did you scold it?"     Her green eyes rolled again.  "Funny."  She took another sip of her coffee.   She gave him a mock frown at his silly joke.  "You are pretty clever, aren't you?"  When he shrugged with a small chuckle, she let out one of her own.  "So, Mr. Royo, what is it you do?"     Okay, so the day wasn’t so bad after that.  She now had a remedy for bad days: meet a good-looking guy! A good looking guy with a nice job, at that.  She had found out that Joseph, or Joey as he liked to be called, was an architect, a business he ran with his father, Joseph, Sr.   He did indeed have a brother, Matthew, who was the same age as him.  Matthew was adopted and is currently finishing up his tour of duty in Afghanistan in the Marine Corps.     Joey, himself, had considered joining the military as well, but in the end opted for civilian life.  He went to the University of New Mexico to study architecture, design, and engineering. In 2008, his mother died of breast cancer.  So, now, it was just him, his brother and his father.     So, Cailleagh had decided the day was not so bad after all.       Well, the day got better, not great.  Moira was in a foul mood, and was not pleased with anything she did. And it seemed Patrick was not too happy either.     But, Cail was in such a better mood,  that she failed to notice when the woman walked into the shop.  When she did notice, she began to wonder why someone like her would want to be in a new age shop.     Patrick nudged Cail's arm as the woman glided into the store.  Moira, their mother, eyed her suspiciously, and it was such a hard suspicion that she wondered why. The other customers in the store just stared at the lady and gave her room as she moved about and came toward the counter Cail was standing behind.     Never had she seen a woman like her: tall, elegant, with extremely long, black hair.  The color of the black was so deep that it drank up the light around her, or so it seemed. Her eyes were a brilliant silver-blue and her skin fair. And the presence about her was astounding: there was a dead silence in the store all of a sudden as everyone looked at her.     Oddly, something about this woman reminded Cailleagh of... something.  Not only that, but she looked elfin in appearance.      Faerie?     Peach and pink silks of a medieval style garment floated about her almost as if by themselves.  The woman looked directly at Cail.     “I am in search of a book,” she announced suddenly in a cultured, yet melodious voice.     Naturally, Moira stepped out from behind the counter and smiled.  She was certain Cailleagh knew nothing about handling customers.  But then, she never let her have a chance either. So, it came as no surprise when she said, “What are you looking for?”     The regal woman ignored her.  “I am in search of a book concerning dreams.”     “We have several books of dream interpretation or dictionaries that might—“     The woman turned angry eyes on Moira.  “I did not ask you.  I asked Cailleagh."       No, she didn’t wonder how the woman knew her name. Rather, Cail was slightly vexed over her superior attitude and rudeness toward her mother. She may have been secretly glad that Moira had been put in her place, but she was still her mother.  No one -- not even she, herself -- talked to her that way. No matter how pretty they were.     “As my mother was saying,” Cail began, letting the woman know her disrespect was not appreciated, “We have several books on dream interpretation or dictionaries.  Was there something in particular you were looking for?”     She glanced briefly at Moira, a look passing between them –- had Cail seen that? –- then, she turned back at her.  “Yes.  For memories in dreams.”     Cail asked her to come with her to the books.  As she did so, that vague feeling washed over her again at that one small sentence: memories in dreams.  Again, as if she was supposed to know something, but couldn’t quite place what that something was.