The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

their penchant for flattering words and poesy. Evidently a mere guardsman has no such hope. If you have need of me, send word. It will be no easy task to get through me to you, Fae or no.”
    His gaze dropped for an instant to her absurdly low bodice, then returned to her face. In that instant, Ian, whom she’d known for nearly all of her life, transformed into a stranger. A hard and dangerous stranger.
    A faint, uncontrollable shudder ran through her as his eyes narrowed.
    “If the princess or her father believe they will use you as a bargaining tool, they are sadly mistaken,” he said flatly, menace icing his words.
    Lucy gasped and scanned the stairs, relieved to find that Glory had moved much further ahead. “Watch what you say, Ian! You are dangerously near to speaking treason.”
    He stepped closer to her and caught her chin in his hand, tilting it up so that his face was mere inches from hers. “Treason is the very least of what I would dare to protect you, Lucy. Remember that. Two days until you are twenty-one, milady. Two days. And then I am coming for you, no matter how many elven princes stand in my way. You are mine.”
    Lucy stood, frozen in shock, as he pressed a brief kiss to her lips and then released her.
    “Two days,” he repeated, before bowing and resuming his journey up the stairs.
    Lucy touched her lips with trembling fingers, wondering how such a slight touch could cause flame to sear through her body. She turned to watch his broad-shouldered, muscular form climbing the stairs and shivered.
    Ian was King Padraic’s captain of the guard, and all knew he had earned the post. He was easily the king’s best warrior, best leader, best. . . everything. To hear him speak words of treason - on her behalf - was too much to comprehend.
    But she could still taste his lips on her own.
    “Lucinda!” Glory’s shriek echoed off the stone walls and through Lucy’s skull. “Get down here now!”
    Grabbing a fistful of her skirt in either hand, Lucy took a deep breath and resumed her descent.
    Two days, he’d said. Much could happen in two days. And, considering she’d be following Glory around the entire time, probably none of it would be good.
    The dining hall was a scene of utter chaos, and Lucy nearly ran over Glory, who’d stopped dead at the threshold. Fae lords stood nearly nose to nose with the lords of the court and members of the palace guard, and all of them were engaged in shouting matches. At the high table, the king sat blinking in disbelief or - more likely at this late hour - sheer drunkenness.
    “Glory, I think maybe we should return to our rooms. This looks as if it could go very badly, and I fear for your safety,” Lucy said, speaking loudly so that Glory could hear her over the cacophony.
    “Very good idea, your Highness,” Ian said, suddenly appearing at their side. Only now he held a very sharp and deadly sword loose and ready in his hand. “I would feel much better if you were both to retire before these . . . debates . . . get further out of hand.”
    Glory tossed her head and flashed her most dazzling smile. Lucy had seen human lords, princes and kings hypnotized by that smile. Even the lesser Fae lords were not immune to Glory’s beauty when she chose to employ it.
    Ian, however, never even blinked. “Now, my ladies.”
    Glory somehow looked down her nose at him, though Ian stood several hand spans taller than she. “I recommend you consider to whom you are speaking, guardsman.”
    “If I had not considered that, Princess, I would have thrown you over my shoulder and carried you upstairs before you could endanger yourself and the Lady Lucinda,” Ian said evenly.
    Lucy’s eyes widened, expecting Glory to throw one of her legendary tantrums, but to her surprise the princess only laughed. “Oh, there is no danger to me. This is the night I am to be engaged to wed,” Glory said, almost absently, her gaze sweeping the room.
    “What?” Lucy caught Glory’s arm. “What? You did not tell me. Who is it?”
    Glory shook her arm free, then smoothed down her skirts. “I don’t know yet, of course. Come help me find out who had the most difficult time sleeping last night on those horribly lumpy mattresses.” Her laughter tinkling like the sound of tiny bells, Glory lifted her chin and floated into the room like the delicate flower she had never, ever been.
    “Oh no,” Lucy moaned. “The peas. This is going to be really, really bad.” Casting an apologetic