Rise of the Lost Prince by London Saint James

belt and wrapping it around her waist twice, before rolling the too
long sleeves up. The sweater-dress she created hung to her knees, and since she
didn’t have anything else to wear, this would have to do.
    “Hey there, little bit,” she
heard, spinning around to see Vibe in the doorway of what she knew had to be
his closet, smiling at her. His silver eyes did the once over, gaze starting at
her toes, which she wiggled, moving up her bare legs, roaming over her torso
and the erect nipples she sported, then rested on her face. “Looks good on
you.”
    “Um, I know I probably should
have asked first, but I needed something to wear, and—”
    “Don’t worry about it.”
    “Uh. Okay. Thanks for the use of
your sweater.” She paused. “And for the use of your bed, too. Sorry to have put
you out.”
    He shook his head, one strand of
blond hair brushing his forehead. “I’m just glad you’re up and about.”
    “Yeah,” she said, straightening.
“Up and about.”
    Why was she repeating what he
said like some kind of mimicking parrot?
    “Listen.” He rested his big hand
on the doorframe above his head. “Thanks for what you did out there with
Grapple.”
    “I couldn’t let him hurt you
guys, or Petúr.”
    He tilted his head, his
expression soft. “It took a lot of guts to take him on the way you did. And, I
just wanted to let you know I won’t forget.”
    She smiled, glancing up at him.
“Thanks.” Her gaze dropped to his left thigh. “How’s your leg?”
    His brow crinkled. “My leg?”
    “Yeah. I saw you take a blade
during the battle.”
    “Oh,” he said, moving the leg in
question. “Right as rain.” He glanced toward her shoulder. “How’s your
shoulder?”
    She rotated the joint.
“Surprisingly good.”
    “Nanos,” Vibe said. “They’re
pretty amazing.”
    She nodded. “They are.”
    “So, little bit. I hope you’re
feeling up to it, because Petúr has called a meeting.”
    She blinked. “A meeting?”
    “He said you were going to
explain a few things to us about where we come from, although, since I heard
what you said to Grappling about Petúr being a prince, and Fae, I’m assuming we
all come from the same place.”
    “You do,” she said.
    He didn’t bat an eyelash at the
admission.
    “Well…” Vibe held out his hand
for her, which she tentatively took. “Come on, then. I suppose we shouldn’t
keep everyone waiting.”
    ****
    Wyndi sat next to Petúr on the
sectional couch in what appeared to be a combination game room/workout center.
She was enthralled, listening to Bell tell the story of Petúr once again. How
Grapple came to be. The portal between the human world and the Fae realm being
sealed, and the boys lost within the world of man, never to retain any memory
of their home due to the queen’s magical decree.
    “So, we’re Fae,” said Vapor, not
in question, but as if the puzzle pieces of their lives snapped into place,
making sense to him.
    “Yes,” Bell said. “Petúr is
Seelie Sidhe Fae. Most Seelie
Sidhe are of nobility. But there are other branches besides noblemen, some of
whom are craftsmen, and warriors, quick of mind and hand.”
    “And you?”
    “I am Demi-Fae. I serve and
assist the royal court.”
    “Vibe said you have wings and
used some sort of dust.”
    She smiled wide, dimples forming.
“I do. I can fly. And the dust is fairy dust.”
    “Fairy dust? We don’t have fairy
dust.”
    Bell chuckled. “No. Only Demi-Fae
have fairy dust.”
    “What do you do with the stuff?”
asked Tera.
    “I can use it to glamour people
and some Fae, and I can use it to transform into a butterfly, or a
hummingbird.”
    “You can?” Wyndi asked, unable to
hold in the question.
    Bell nodded.
    “What is Grapple?” asked Byte.
    “Grapple is of the line of
Unseelie Sidhe Fae. As I said earlier, he used his magic for healing, until he
became the consort to Arielle and was banished from our land.”
    Vapor’s brow creased. “What am
I?”
    Bell walked