Sweet Nothings Page 5

  Avery dashed her a brawny smile. “You might call it a charm.”

  “A con.”

  “A cheat.”

  “A bamboozle.”

  “A canoodle.”

  The choir came from aboard the ship.

  Claire blinked repeatedly. “Oh, my.” She pointed at Avery’s chest. “You’re that…Sea Fox.”

  Chapter 6

  “Who is the Sea Fox?” Tad asked Claire as Avery hopped onto the deck of the ship having neither confirmed nor denied her accusation.

  Claire’s eyelids drooped. “How can you not have heard of him? He’s a famous pirate they say is unstoppable. Nobody knows his true identity, only that they’ve been had, and that revelation usually dawns upon them long after he has sailed away. And the reports about what he looks like never match.”

  Tad watched the captain and his odd crew. “He doesn’t seem like he’s all that clever.” And neither did any of the rest of them. The one with the eye patch was particularly absurd, stomping about and frowning at everything, even the planks.

  “Of course he would not appear to be clever,” Claire replied. “Nobody suspects him and that’s how he manages to con and cheat everyone he meets.”

  “Maybe the Sea Fox is just a name that’s passed down. After one is gone, another comes up in his place? Hasn’t that sort of thing been known to happen among criminals to preserve their reputations and their tenuous bonds? Anyway, it’s hardly important.”

  “How can you be so dense?” Claire’s finger pointed after the pirate ship. “If we’re supposed to get him married off to a princess, his identity, his very character, is certainly important. And he may be much worse than a mere thief. I heard that he does murder, or at least that he’s not opposed to it. It’s hard to know his true nature since it’s all just rumors. And that is why science—”

  Tad magicked himself back to the library before she could finish her lecture. His little helper and the pigeons wouldn’t be far behind. He scurried over to the globe before Claire got any ideas about trying to take it over to research one of her many hypotheses. A man needed time to think through things before taking action, a few blissful moments of silence without any pests intruding on his private thoughts. But a rustling sound behind him marked the end of tranquility.

  Claire bobbed up to Tad’s side and thrust his coat at him. “You dropped this.”

  Tad snatched his clothing without looking at the ungrateful wench that held it. “Where is the princess?” he asked Nan as she breezed onto the bookcase next to the globe. “I take it she is somewhere on the siren’s island?”

  “You do not understand.” Nan met his eye and said with utter sobriety, “The princess is the siren.”

  Tad turned a grumpy look on the she-bird. “Of course she is.”

  “The princess ate a bunch of pirates?” Claire’s face crinkled up and Tad could not tell if it was disgust, curiosity, or more scientific mischief he spied in that expression.

  “I’m afraid so,” Sev said.

  “But I found this.” Pip tossed a roll of parchment onto the bookcase where he had perched himself next to Nan.

  Tad snatched up the parchment and unwound it. “This is coiled up tight.”

  “That’s because it was in a bottle. I spied it as I was flying over the beach. There were a bunch of them but I just brought back this one because it was my favorite.”

  “Were they all the same then?” Tad asked as he inspected what turned out to be a disturbing letter in a very elegant hand.

  “I don’t know, but this one just called out to me.”

  “That’s not a very logical method for making a selection,” Claire said.

  “It was in the only bottle I could get the cork out of.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense.” Tad handed the parchment to Claire.

  “In addition to the pirates, it seems the princess may have eaten Prince Henry, who was to be her betrothed and had likely gone after the pirates to recover her.” Claire shook her head at the parchment. “That doesn’t sound good for the future of her kingdom. But it doesn’t make sense, either. Maybe he’s still alive…”

  Tad observed Claire’s mind at work and decided he had no desire to understand the bolts and cogs that drove such an unromantic mechanism. “But if the prince ended up on the siren’s island, how did multiple messages he wrote with the obvious intent of casting them into the sea come to end up on the same island’s beach?”

  “Possibly the siren caught him before…no, that could not be it.” Claire drummed her fingers on the table that held the globe.

  “It is no mystery,” Nan said. “That is part of the enchantment of the Aeorus. What goes out to sea comes right back, so the prince might have flung a hundred messages into the water but nothing would ever find its way out of the Threigen Sea. It’s the same enchantment that keeps Peadar and the giants bound to Threigenland, though it is less powerful on the siren’s island. A ship might sail to and fro, but something as small as a bottle with nothing to propel it would certainly not get far.”

  “But it’s a good sign that Prince Henry made a valiant effort to warn his father,” Claire said. “That is a true leader, if you ask me.” She gave Tad a hard look. “And he would be much better suited for the role of the princess’s true love than that Captain Avery fellow.”

  “Lady Love apparently has a different opinion,” Tad said. “But of course Prince Henry is cursed, too, if his letter is to be believed.” He turned to the birds. “Did any of you dig up information on the prince’s curse? Maybe he’s the siren and not the princess? And are you sure there even is a siren?”

  “The princess we found sitting along the beach singing out an enchantment over the waters with a pile of human bones behind her,” Sev said. “The pirate ships all crashed into her reef but the pirates themselves had vanished. We did not need to be clever to figure out what sort of creature she is.”

  “But you did not see her eat anyone?” Tad asked.

  “Thankfully, we did not,” Nan said. “But do trust us, dear, when we say some sort of curse has turned the princess into a siren, and it was very likely administered by that apple she ate.”

  “I don’t want to jump to any conclusions,” Tad said. “It may all be a great misunderstanding.”

  “I believe you, Nan,” Claire said. “But of course we must go ourselves and investigate. Show me how Prince Henry came to have the curse he spoke of in this letter.”

  Tad turned to see her speaking to the globe. An image arose in the dome, a baby being wrapped in swaddling cloth and handed to a woman. For several minutes the baby nursed but nothing out of the ordinary occurred.

  “Thank you,” Claire said. “That is all I wish to see…very informative.”

  The sand swirled in the globe and fell away.

  Tad huffed at her. “That was entirely useless. I still think that contraption is broken.”

  “It is perfectly functional,” Claire replied. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”

  “You clearly wish to tell me your great hypothesis.”

  Claire lifted her chin. “The prince is deaf. That’s why he wasn’t lured by the siren’s call, and now I suspect he’s still alive.”

  Tad refused to acknowledge the superior look the ingrate leveled at him. “How do you know he’s deaf?”

  “It is the only logical conclusion.”

  “Obvious,” Pip said.

  “How’s that?” Tad asked.

  Claire snorted like a piglet. “His letter spoke of a curse. The globe showed only the day of his birth. He alone escaped the siren’s call. Conclusion…he was born unable to hear.”

  “But that’s not a curse,” Tad said. “He ought to be more precise in his labels.”

  “Says the man who labels blackbirds as pigeons, probably because he’s partially colorblind,” Claire replied.

  “I am not any part colorblind.”

  “Then why do you always wear…?” She looked him up and down. “Never mi
nd.”

  “Roselle adores this particular blend of colors.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “She does. You’ll be very proud to know I conducted my own experiments to find out just what she likes…and this is it.” He moved his hand down his navy button-up vest and brown pants.

  Claire’s eyes lingered on his vest for a moment, just before she burst out in snickers. “Does she smile at you at lot when she sees you wearing that particular getup?”

  Tad puffed out his chest. “She does indeed.”

  “It’s because she thinks you’re addled.”

  “Bah! What?” He tipped his chin to his chest and leaned over to get two eyefuls of himself. “I look very presentable.”

  “First of all, you look very silly in that sleeveless vest with the buttons about to pop. You would be much more hand…less ridiculous if you simply wore the pants with the shirt that’s underneath. Second…” She gave her head a slow shake. “There’s no way any woman would smile at a man wearing something like what you’re wearing now unless she felt sorry for him. Logical conclusion…pity.”

  Tad moved his eyes away from her snobbery of a perfectly sensible outfit and back toward the birds. “Prince Henry can be deaf or cursed or whatever he likes. He is not Princess Arabella’s true love so as long as he stays out of our way, we can ignore him.”

  “He might complicate your schemes,” Claire said. “You want her to choose a rotten pirate but the man the princess is already in love with, and who happens to be a very fine nobleman—royalty, even—that man is mostly likely still alive and hiding somewhere her island.”

  “That is very inconvenient.”

  “Yes, very unthoughtful of him not to get eaten to make our job easier,” Claire replied to Tad’s logical assessment.

  She needed to make up her mind if she wanted to have logic or feelings. Nobody could listen to both. “Well, now we’ve got to get the princess’s real true love to rescue her before the prince does.” Tad sighed deeply before uttering his next admission, which Claire would surely take as evidence of the superiority of science over matters of the heart. “As you said, Prince Henry is no doubt at this very moment plotting to rescue the princess himself, since he is the valiant sort. But it is all in vain, just like his messages in the bottles that cannot go anywhere. He is not Princess Arabella’s true love, so he is useless. But before I go off fixing everybody else’s happily ever after, I need dinner and a good night’s sleep. How long before Avery reaches the princess?”

  “A few days,” Sev said.

  “We can’t wait for them to sail all the way to the island the usual way, then,” Tad replied. “Prince Henry may do any number of foolish things trying to save the princess that will make it much harder for us to get her to fall in love with Avery. Nan, what about that thing you did with your wings when you got rid of Mathilde? Can you push Avery’s ship faster?”

  Nan stared blankly at him. “You want me to blow the ship to bits? Our magic is not quite that powerful.”

  “Just hurry it along. Can the three of you get him there by tomorrow morning? Or…where is Wiggy?” Tad breezed his eyes around the room. Something flicked his leg. He jumped and looked down to see a gray-and-white-striped kitten curling itself between his feet. “And now, my mischievous arzu metamorph, you may turn yourself into whatever you wish. Pick him up and carry him away if you must, only get Avery to the princess’s island as soon as may be.”

  “And no love potions.” Pip’s gaze followed the kitten as it slinked over to Claire. “You must always tell him he is not allowed to do any funny business.”

  Tad rubbed his chin and studied his fourth assistant, purring against Claire’s leg. “A love potion may be just the thing to change the princess’s sentiment, the merest nudge to get her to fall out of love with one charming prince and in love with one dastardly pirate.”

  “That is never a good idea,” Nan said. “Wigamus’s essence is not true love but only a powerful feeling that will soon dissipate. In the meantime, the results could be disastrous.” She leveled a sober look at the kitten. “Your antics were very useful to us on the last case but you really must resist the urge to love potion everybody.”

  “Let’s get a move on,” Tad said. He gave Wiggy a slow, contemplating look. “And no using any love potions on the pirates or the princess….unless, of course, it is absolutely necessary.”

  Chapter 7

  Tad lay in his comfy bed bemoaning the need to extract himself to go off to a wild island in the middle of a terrifying, mythical place where many things would no doubt be contriving to devour him.

  But his happily ever after with Roselle was worth the trials of the way. At length he pried his body from beneath the warm blankets, dragged his bare feet across the stone floor to his wardrobe, swung the doors open and inspected its contents.

  Everything inside was far too delicate for his role as Lady Love’s Avenging Agent. That probably ought to be his official title, though the Lady herself had refused to bestow one on him, or even a measly badge. No, she forced him to extreme measures in cases where his clients refused to cooperate.

  With a grumble against the injustice of his new life, he put on his least favorite brown pants and a green button-up shirt that would probably help him blend in on the island so that its violent inhabitants might overlook him. His hand instinctively reached for his navy vest but paused as Claire’s words stirred in his before-breakfast brain.

  He decided not to put it on, but not because of what Claire had said. Only he did not want to ruin Roselle’s favorite outfit of his on this case filled with untold future horrors. Black leather boots pulled into place, he moved to the kitchen and put on a kettle of water for tea. He was just about to crack open an egg when a ferocious rap sounded at the door. Couldn’t the creatures on the siren’s island wait until he had breakfast before coming after him?

  He swung the front door open, blurry-eyed and with an indifferent attitude toward his fate.

  A she-beast greeted him. “Good morning.”

  “I see you’re one of those happy morning people,” he replied.

  “Before we go off hunting down cursed princesses, I thought I would return this.” Claire held out his picnic basket. “Your blanket and dishes are inside, all washed.”

  “That’s fine,” he mumbled and moved to close the door.

  “What you making?” Claire rotated her body this way and that and sniffed at the open doorway.

  “Just eggs, bacon and biscuit. And that’s peppermint tea you’re smelling.”

  A smile stretched her face and her eyes got all sparkly.

  “I suppose I can make for two as easily as one.” He stepped aside and held his hand out to bid her to enter.

  She sprang over the threshold and turned her head up and around his cottage. “It’s much bigger on the inside that is appears on the outside. Someone has gone through a great deal of trouble with the support beams for this structure. Why I’d say it’s a mathematical wonder, the use of angles and…”

  Tad closed his eyes and wandered blindly toward his kitchen as Claire continued to blather about triangular theory, architectural symmetry, and something obtuse and perpendicular, all apparently fascinating achievements. He dropped his picnic basket on the floor next to the stove with a clink and a clank. Putting the dishes and blanket away could wait until the morning fog cleared. The way Claire prattled on, she apparently had no idea that he failed to comprehend or even hear at such an hour.

  “It’s as if it was designed for someone very tall or who had a fear of enclosed spaces, or possibly they had visions of a second story but ran short of the funds to complete it.” With this, she at last seemed out of breath.

  Tad waited a few moments but she just looked at him as if he was supposed to have been paying attention. “I bought this cottage from a very ordinary person who was a very ordinary height and had a very ordinary view of enclosed spaces,” he mumbled.

  “The theory of normality is already
disproved. Now I think—”

  “Boiled or scrambled?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Tad held out a goose egg. “How would you like yours?”

  Claire blinked repeatedly at it.

  “I prefer these to the chicken variety. But if you don’t like them I can get—”

  “No, it’s just I thought I was the only one who eats goose eggs instead of chicken eggs like everybody else. Imogene says the goose variety is not for eating, something about bad luck or…What was the word she used? Oh, it doesn’t matter. Her ideas are very unscientific. I like mine scrambled, by the way. I know it’s unusual but boiled eggs have always made me yak since I was little.”

  Tad couldn’t help the grin that stretched his lips at her unladylike expression. “I like mine scrambled as well so I can add a heap of flavoring. I’ll cook mine and yours together if you don’t mind tomatoes, mushrooms and onion, with perhaps a pinch of my homemade pepper blend.”

  Claire studied him with those eyes of hers. “I don’t mind.”

  “Wonderful. You may sit wherever you like.” He moved to his well-stocked cupboard and began to remove the necessary ingredients.

  A screeching sound rang out as something heavy dragged against the stone floor behind him while he placed his materials on the counter next to the frying pan. He did not bother to look at his guest, but cracked open the first egg and dropped its contents neatly into a bowl. Blessed silence settled over the kitchen as he stoked the stove and slaved away over their meal. While the vegetables were softening, he fried the bacon and rolled out the dough for the biscuits. In no time at all the cottage smelled just as any home should first thing in the morning.

  “So you experiment with food?”

  Tad turned from his frying pan to see Claire squinting at him from his favorite cushioned chair that normally resided in his sitting room. He had meant she should sit wherever she wished at his dining table, not drag in furniture from another part of the house. “It’s not experimenting. My mother is a wonderful cook and she insisted I learn, despite…Well, let’s just say a man without a wife has to do a few things for himself, lest he starve.”