A Magic King (10 page)

He grinned at her joke. "Tell me what you want to buy, Jane, and I'll get it for you."

"No way. I want my share to spend as I will."

The dark slash of his eyebrows suddenly lowered. "Do you really want to go into the fair?"

"Of course, I do!" She laughed at his stunned expression. "I absolutely love shopping. It's almost more fun than paging through the Rumornet."

"The what?"

She started to answer but was distracted by a delicious scent wafting toward her from a large brown man carrying a tray of what looked like meat pies. "Mmmm. Can you smell that?" She turned around. "Come on, Daken. Give me my share and let me loose."

He stared at her for a moment, his jaw slack with astonishment.

"Please. I'm starved." Her gaze followed the man with the meatpies while she inhaled deeply, trying to hold onto the heavenly scent.

Then Daken laughed, his face lit with amusement mixed with a wry self-mockery. "So much for you being overwhelmed. Very well."

He dropped three large coins into her hand. They were perfect gold circles stamped with a tree on one side and something like a blunt-tipped maple leaf on the other. She glanced up at Daken, but his face betrayed nothing.

"Are these doleens?"

"Yes."

"And how much were you paid by the trader?"

"That's a fair share, little fool," he said, his voice dropping.

"The hell it is." Jane glanced back at the trader who was bartering with a customer. "You didn't get any three doleens from that guy. I saw smaller coins—silver and copper. No gold."

Suddenly, Daken grinned, even though his voice was serious. "You do learn fast. But perhaps you've forgotten the day you cared for me by the stream."

"But—"

"Consider that payment for protecting me from the pantar."

"The panther? She didn't do anything."

"But you didn't know that at the time, did you?"

Jane didn't argue. For whatever reason, Daken wanted to give her money to spend at the fair, and she felt overwhelmed with gratitude. She couldn't understand any of the prices listed, but she was sure Daken had just been very, very generous.

Jumping up, she planted a wet, loud kiss on his cheek. "Thank you." Then she started to run after the meat pie man.

"Hold on," he said, grabbing her arm to keep her with him. "There's a condition."

"I knew there was a catch," she grumbled, but she waited for his terms.

"You must stay with me at all times. And don't spend a sora without my help."

She cocked her head. "Well, of course. How else would I do it? I don't speak a word of the language."

He chuckled, the sound a teasing pulse along her spine. "You will find these merchants don't require anything but your money. The last thing they want to do is talk."

She echoed his laughter, her own voice high and free for the first time since she'd arrived in this strange world. "I guess merchants aren't that different wherever you go."

She started to run off again, but he tugged her back, his hand a warm band of steel around her wrist.

"What now?"

"Nothing," he said, dropping a light kiss on her lips. "Only that I will pay for our meal."

She gazed up into his eyes, more golden now than blue, and felt joy slide through her veins. Could he really like her? Maybe a little?

Then they were jostled from behind and the moment was broken. "Come on," he said. "I find myself ravenous for meatpie."

She pulled back, and he turned, his expression questioning.

"He's long gone. Besides, who wants meat pie when you can have lasagna?" She pointed at another booth where a woman ladled red sauce over what she hoped was dough and cheese. She turned back to Daken who promptly threw up his hands.

"Lead on. But be careful of your stomach. Red canatas are hotter than you think."

Red canatas, or whatever he called them, were definitely not lasagna. They were more like hot peppers wrapped in spicy dough covered with chile sauce. They were delicious.

Daken ate a meat pie. Jane stole a bite from him and decided she liked those too.

In fact, she tried a whole lot of foods. It seemed the worst thing about the marketplace was that there were so many things to taste, she didn't have enough room in her stomach to fit them all. Although she definitely tried.

"Aren't you full yet?"

She had just finished the first thing that had actually tasted like what she thought it ought to—a delicious, New York hot dog.

"I'm still looking for a hot fudge sundae."

"A what?"

"Dessert."

He groaned, weighing his purse, pretending it was very, very light. "Had I known you could eat more than a Zenian levon, I wouldn't have been so generous with my offer to feed you."

She turned, her laughter floating around her. "Too bad, King. You can't go back on your word."

He stopped, gently pulling her back from another food stand. "Where did you ever get that idea?"

She blinked. "Aren't kings supposed to be honorable? Never lie, cheat, or steal? Always follow through on their promises, that sort of thing?"

"Yes."

"Well, then," she turned back to the stand, but he pulled her back again.

"Who said I was a good king?"

She knew he was just teasing her, but his eyes darkened and the laugh lines around them dropped away until they looked more like pain etched in a face too young to bear the scars. A part of him, she realized, really doubted he was a good king.

"You're a good king, Daken. I said you were, remember? When you told me about leaving your carriage behind, after your horse was killed." She playfully tapped the end of his nose.

He smiled and caught her finger in his mouth. Blushing, she withdrew it and captured his hand as she looked around for her next destination.

They'd been doing a lot of that today—touching whenever and wherever they could. None of it was sexual, not even the brief kisses they'd given each other. They walked holding hands, or he brushed crumbs off her face, or she tugged on his arm. They were practically inseparable, which was just how she liked it.

She might enjoy shopping, but wandering alone through a fair this large when she didn't speak the language was too daunting a task for even her. So they ran through the marketplace together, or rather, she ran dragging him, and they laughed like children unexpectedly released from school.

Then she saw it. They'd been wandering about for over an hour before she spotted it. It hung in the corner of a booth in the chaotic center of the marketplace. It was a dark blue tunic with threads of gold shot through the sleeves and neck. It had a V-type collar and a soft texture like worn denim. And it was perfect for Daken.

She bought it when he wasn't looking. He was busy haggling over a dagger, so she slipped away, dropped all three of her coins into the vendor's hand, grabbed both the shirt and a couple plain tunics for herself, then ran back before Daken was any the wiser. She knew she should somehow hide the shirt. The surprise would work better if she gave it to him tomorrow morning, but she'd always had trouble waiting to give her gifts. He was right here with her, and she was so happy that she just threw it over his head, laughing as a sleeve flopped wildly over his right ear.

"Surprise!"

He fumbled his way out of the tunic. "What?"

"Hey, careful!" She pulled the shirt off of him before he ripped it, then smoothed out the folds before presenting it to him. "A tunic fit for a king." She held it up to his eyes. It wasn't a perfect match, she noted with chagrin. His eyes were a bit more vibrant, the gold flecks a little richer. But it was close enough.

He didn't take it.

"Hey. It's a gift." She leaned forward. "You're supposed to say thank-you."

He stared at the shirt. "You bought this?"

"No, I stole it. Of course, I bought it."

"You paid for it," he repeated, his mouth still struggling to form words.

"Yes. Probably way too much, but," she smiled up at him, "it was worth it to see your face." His expression was torn between surprise, pleasure, and horror. "Yes," she giggled, spinning away. "It was definitely worth it."

He grabbed her, turning her back to face him. "Why would you spend your coins on me? On this?"

"Because it's your money, silly. Who else should it be spent on?"

"But—"

"Criminy, Daken. You act like this is some big deal. It's just a shirt."

He shook his head, clearly searching for the right words. "This is not just a shirt."

"Well, of course, it is," she teased. "It's got fabric, front and back, two sleeves for your arms, and a collar. That's the big hole in the middle for your head. Boy," she shook her head with mock horror. "And you call me a fool."

"Little fool..."

She glanced up, her expression sobering at the sudden intensity in his eyes. "What? What's wrong?"

"This is a bridegroom's tunic. Are you proposing to me?"

"Proposing what?" Finally his words sunk in. "Proposing? As in marriage proposing?"

He reached out and lifted her chin. She felt the rough texture of his fingertips as well as the heat his smallest touch always aroused within her.

"I would be very pleased if you wished to marry me," he said, his voice low and sincere.

"Marry you?" Her voice came out as a squeak.

"You would be my queen." His lips quirked in a half smile. "A wealthy queen of a fertile land. Your heirs would be healers and as their mother, you would be revered. Your every wish fulfilled."

"Heirs? As in children? Babies?" Her voice cracked on the last word. Her thoughts spun and suddenly, her stomach felt much too small for her chest, especially given that her heart was beating so fast she thought it had climbed into her throat.

"We would have beautiful children, you and I," he continued. "They would have a laugh like their mother and have their father's physique."

"Physique?"

He tilted his head, trying to explain. "Body. Form. Strength."

She cleared her throat. "I know what it means," she said, slowly backing out of his arms as she struggled for rational thought. But it was hard when his gaze seemed to heat her entire body, mesmerizing her even as she tried to stop the dizzy buzzing in her head.

"Jane?"

"Daken." She took one last steadying breath before facing him. "Look, I didn't know that was a... that it was for a... you know. For marriage."

She watched his face change. She couldn't say exactly what part of him shifted or when the transformation was complete. She only knew that with each word, his face became stiffer and colder, hidden behind his mask of polite civility.

"Does this mean you do not wish to marry me?" His words were filled with kingly hauteur.

"I don't wish to marry anyone." She tugged on her hair, pulling a curl to almost below her ear. 'Try to understand. I don't belong here."

His eyebrows drew together. "Here? In the marketplace or Bosuny?" He looked around at the milling sea of people pushing past them on all sides.

"Here, as in this world."

His attention refocused on her. "I don't understand."

"Join the crowd, buddy," she muttered. "Let me try to explain. I'm from out—" Fortunately, she was jabbed from behind by a pushy customer, and her next impulsive words were swallowed. Once she regained her balance and her senses, she started on a different tack. "Can we go somewhere quiet and talk?" She saw the cold anger in his eyes. "Please, Daken. Let me try to explain before you cast me off."

That seemed to break through his cold facade. She started to move toward a road, but he stopped her, turning her to read the truth in his face as he spoke. "I would never cast you off, Jane. Never. Do you understand?"

Jane nodded, afraid she did. Like it or not, this man was proposing to her. His intentions couldn't be clearer if he'd broadcast it from the nearest booth. Suddenly, she wasn't afraid he'd abandon her to find her way alone, but that he wouldn't let her go once she finally found a way back to her own world.

She shivered at the thought, even as a small voice whispered in her head. "Would it be so bad?" it asked. She'd be a queen. Her children would be healers. She'd be married to her own personal fantasy man, for goodness sake. What more could she want?

Except she'd be abandoning Earth, her home. It wasn't that she'd miss her parents. She loved them, but they'd long since deteriorated to making polite phone calls at Christmas. As for her brother, she thought she had his address written on an old receipt, lost somewhere in her nightstand.

No, what she'd be abandoning was much more obscure than her family, much larger and at times more immediate than her friends. She would be leaving Earth. Her skills weren't all that great, but she counted her computer training as a valuable asset. Her job at the university was simple and specific. She kept the flow of information open to the public. Maybe there were others who could do her job as well or better than she. But the point was, it was her job, and she did it well.