Chapter 31

31

“ A hem.”

Harp’s lyrical voice rang with amusement as she interrupted our moment. “Were you planning to wake me before or after you made love on my stage?”

I flushed. “We weren’t going to…” I glanced at Mariana, whose cheeks were turning the most enticing shade of pink. I swallowed the urge to kiss them while I amended, “…that is, not right here, anyway.”

“And hopefully not until that nasty cut on her back has been tended to,” Harp added, a note of reproval underscoring her previous amusement.

Shit. I’d almost forgotten about that.

“Jack mentioned you were handy with a needle,” Mariana spoke up. “Any chance you’d do the honors?”

Harp’s expression relaxed into a sweet smile. “Of course I will. Jack, if you could fetch my sewing box? Oh, and some of that soft cotton I keep in the drawer beside it.”

“I thought your dresser was spelled to bring you whatever you needed,” I teased, already pushing aside the heavy, red curtains that separated the front semi-circle from the rest of the stage. Off to the left, out of sight in the wing, was a tall chestnut bureau.

Harp’s voice brimmed with levity when it floated back to me. “It is, but I felt you deserved a bit of punishment for putting the moves on this poor woman while she’s in need of medical attention. Really, Jack. Poorly done.”

“On the contrary, Harp,” I called back, procuring the items from the top drawer. “My kisses are never poorly done.”

Twin groans from the other side of the curtains made me grin, and I added an exaggerated swagger to my walk when I returned. “One sewing box and a wad of cotton, as per your request, Madam.” I rubbed the fluffy material between my fingers. “Although I’m not entirely sure what you need this for.”

“ That ,” Harp stated, plucking the box from my hand. “Is for you.”

“Sorry, what now?”

“For your ears,” Harp clarified, motioning for Mariana to take off her cloak. “You’ll need it to block out my music. Unless, of course, you wish to take a nap?”

“What are you talking about?” Mariana asked, looking back and forth between me and Harp.

“My music is enchanted,” Harp explained. “And my lullabies are particularly potent. You’ll be sleeping like a baby while I stitch you up, no added pain necessary. Didn’t Jack say as much when he suggested I do it?”

I wiped a hand over my face, feeling like a prime idiot. “I didn’t know.”

“How is that even possible?” Harp scoffed. “I’ve used it on you twice before.”

Heat creeped up the back of my neck. “Honestly? I kinda thought I’d passed out at the sight of the needle. Good to know my fortitude isn’t as weak as I thought.”

Mariana snorted, but then balked when Harp drew a shiny, silver needle from the sewing box and began threading it. “You know I am a werewolf,” she hedged, warily eyeing the needle’s sharp tip. “I probably don’t even need stitches. We heal crazy fast on our own.”

“You’re only part werewolf,” I pointed out, torn between amusement and concern while I watched her squirm.

“I’m a fucking alpha werewolf, and the other part’s vampire,” she retorted. “Who are also known to be self-healers.”

“Yeaaaah, but let’s not forget that pesky dash of human witch blood,” I teased. “And I believe they require things like stitches when magic is unavailable to fix them up.”

“You’d think the majority would rule,” Mariana grumbled. “Stupid human weakness.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to work yourself up over something you won’t even feel,” Harp chided. “Jack? Turn around so Mariana can take her shirt off.”

A crooked grin stretched across my face. “I don’t think she’ll mind if I watch.”

Harp’s face flushed pink. “Really, Jack.”

“Yeah. Really, Jack,” Mariana chided teasingly. “Give a girl some privacy, will ya?”

I rolled my eyes, but dutifully turned around. “Your wish is my command.”

Mariana made a gagging sound, but Harp carried on with crisp efficiency despite our apparent need to act like children. “Go ahead and plug your ears.”

I pulled the fluffy cotton in half and stuffed a piece in each ear before giving Harp a thumbs up. Soon a muffled hum of music filled the room, and streaks of gold reflected off the polished wood floor. I kept my head down, focusing on the dancing lights so that I wouldn’t be tempted to look over my shoulder. Even if she’d been teasing, a promise was a promise, and I hadn’t completely forgotten how to be a gentleman during my wretchedly long stay up here.

After a while the faint music drew to a stop, and a moment later a hand was tapping my shoulder. I turned to find Mariana grinning at me and was only mildly disappointed to see that she’d pulled her shirt back on.

“Harp put some kind of ointment over the stitches, and it feels much better.” She looked at Harp, who’d already moved on to mending Mariana’s cloak. “When all of this curse crap is taken care of, I’m going to need the recipe for whatever you put in there. It feels fucking magical.”

“That’s because it is.” Harp glanced up from her work with a smile. “The water is from the castle’s wishing well. I mix in some crushed lavender for a soothing scent, as well as a few other things for texture, but it’s the well water that works the magic.”

I blinked in surprise, my mind immediately going to the old stone well near my cabin. “This ‘wishing well’ doesn’t happen to be tucked away in a cozy group of trees at the end of a stream, is it?”

Harp shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest. No one’s ever taken me there. Artie brought me a bottle of the water as a gift along with a bouquet of lavender when my throat started getting sore from too much singing. A few sips, and I was as good as new.”

“Come to think of it, I’ve been here for ten years and never actually gotten sick,” I murmured. “Have I been drinking magic water this entire time?”

“A fascinating quandary, but I’m more interested in hearing about this Artie person,” Mariana interrupted. “He wouldn’t happen to be Prince Artie, by any chance, would he?”

“Why, yes, he was.” Harp tied off the end of her thread. “Prince Arthur Grandle Roland Hellingshire, the third. Queen Alba’s only child and sole heir of the sky castle.”

“Fancy title,” I muttered. Almost as full of needless shit as his room.

If she noticed the edge of derision in my voice, Harp paid no heed to it while she carefully folded the red cloak and handed it back to Mariana. “He was a sweet boy, though his mother seemed bent on spoiling the goodness right out of him.” She hesitated, her eyes darting about the room. “Not that anything the queen did was wrong, of course. She loved him. She just didn’t know how to show it through anything but material items.”

“Mm hmm. Cut the bullshit, there isn’t anyone here but us,” Mariana countered. “She gave the brat everything he wanted, and it ruined him. Am I right?”

“He was just a boy wanting his mother’s attention,” Harp admonished softly. “I imagine that’s why he grew so attached to me. I was made for him as a gift, you see, on his eighth birthday. He’d been having trouble sleeping due to night terrors, and my enchanted lullabies were the only thing that could lull him back to sleep.”

I frowned, studying the perfect stitches she’d made on Mariana’s cloak and recalling our conversation from earlier. “If you were designed to sing the prince to sleep, how is it you became so skilled at sewing? Or haircuts, for that matter? Did you tend to those things for the prince, as well?”

“Well, you see, I…” Harp fell silent, her mouth open but seemingly at a loss for words. A tiny wrinkle formed between her painted brows, and she shrugged. “I suppose they must have instilled those skills when they enchanted me, though I don’t recall them ever asking me to use them.”

“How’d you get the sewing box, then?” Mariana asked.

“Prince Artie gave it to me, along with my enchanted bureau, after I mentioned how much I missed sewing…” Harp’s eyes grew round as she trailed off.

Mariana and I exchanged looks.

“You missed something you’d never done before?” I asked.

“Why I… yes.” Harp wrung her hands, a look of increasing distress coloring her expression. “Somehow.”

Mariana gently extricated her hands from their death grip, her voice gentle. “I’d like you to tell us everything you remember about your first days here. Do you think you can do that?”

Harp dipped her head. “I can try.”

“Good girl,” Mariana cooed, and I swallowed a wayward flash of jealousy when Harp’s strings trilled a happy, little tune. But then I pictured the words coming from my own mouth, as I fisted a handful of Mariana’s wild curls in my hand…

And abruptly broke that thought off, before I ended up with an entirely different problem.

The tiniest of smirks played at the corner of Mariana’s mouth, as if she could see my dirty thoughts as plain as day. But she kept her attention on Harp, saying, “You try, and we’ll listen.”