The Toymaker's Hoard Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Book Details

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Bonus Short

  About the Author

  THE

  Toymaker's

  HOaRd

  TRICE CITY LOVERS 2

  MEGAN DERR

  Cadmus is content to spend his days quietly tending his shop and creating custom toys, music boxes, and automatons for his clients. It's a peaceful life, minus the occasional hostile visit from a rival who wants to know the secret behind his creations, which require no winding to work.

  Then an intriguing new client, Lady Serena, blows into his shop requesting he make a gift for the man she loves but is forbidden to be with. She is followed shortly by her father, the notorious Chief of Police Harren Imperia, who ends up taking Cadmus out for coffee—and introduces him to Lord Paali, whose son is the object of Serena's affection.

  As he is dragged further into their dizzying world, he finds himself facing problems he never expected: being caught between the wishes of the parents and the wants of the children, and drawn helplessly to the fierce Harren and intriguing Lord Paali…

  The Toymaker's Hoard

  Trice City Lovers 2

  By Megan Derr

  Published by Megan Derr

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

  Edited by Samantha M. Derr

  Cover designed by Natasha Snow

  This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

  First Edition September 2019

  Copyright © 2019 by Megan Derr

  Printed in the United States of America

  Chapter One

  Cadmus was putting the finishing touches on a music box when the silence in the shop was broken by the silvery tinkling of the bell above the shop door. That was odd. He had no appointments today. Maybe someone was lost or hadn't noticed the 'by appointment only' sign on the door. Would hardly be the first time. Setting down his tools and jeweler's loupe, he retrieved his gloves and a rag as he stepped through the curtained-off doorway that divided the front of the shop from the backrooms.

  A young woman stood staring in rapt fascination at his display pieces, so enthralled with them Cadmus flushed with pleasure. Nothing was more gratifying than seeing his work so openly admired. Most of the time his clients were more reserved, trained to be so practically every moment of their lives.

  She appeared to be alone, which was odd, because by her costly clothes she was nobility, and young, wealthy women seldom went anywhere without an escort. On this side of town, which was almost entirely paranormal, many of the more prejudiced humans came with bodyguards.

  She was dressed in an elegant green walking dress, the bustle decorated with enough ribbons and lace to resemble a frothy silk waterfall. Her beautiful curls were barely restrained by a matching ribbon, and a handsome black and green hat was perched on her head, a matching parasol clutched in one hand.

  Cadmus finished wiping his hands, then pulled on his gloves and fussed briefly with his jacket. Then he cleared his throat quietly to get her attention, and when she turned said, "May I help you, my lady?"

  The woman smiled brightly, her eyes as green as her dress, skin dark brown and flawless, set off handsomely by gold and emerald jewelry. "Good afternoon, sir. I am sorry to intrude, but I did come intending to commission a piece and can certainly make an appointment for another day. I was simply so excited once I thought of the idea that I could not bear waiting to act upon it."

  Cadmus chuckled and motioned her to the table on the far side of the room, then went to make a quick pot of tea. He set it on the table with a plate of biscuits from the fancy bakery at the end of the lane. "You chose a good day to come, my lady. I have no appointments today, so have plenty of time to speak with you. What is it you are seeking that had you so eager to see me immediately, Miss…?"

  "Imperia. Serena Imperia." She made a face when Cadmus froze. "Yes, that Imperia, I'm afraid."

  "No, please, there's no afraid involved. I was simply surprised. Chief Imperia is a wonderful man; he's better to my side of the city than his peers."

  "Papa has many friends amongst the paranormal set. He doesn't hold with the…" she pursed her lips, "narrow-minded beliefs and behaviors of humans. Yes, I think that's the polite way to say it."

  Cadmus laughed. "I sense the daughter is much like the father." He didn't add that he found Imperia, one of the most notorious figures in the city, compelling, fierce, and devastatingly beautiful. He was also a marvelous dancer.

  Serena smiled. "You are Master Cadmus Tulari, the toymaker whose creations never need winding but don't rely on magic and will work forever?"

  Cadmus smiled, flushing again at the praise. "Yes, that is me. Toys, music boxes, and many other clockwork devices—even boring old clocks on occasion. And I wouldn't say forever, but they are guaranteed to work for a very long time. Some have survived two, even three generations so far."

  "That is simply marvelous! But I won't ask how you do it, I know that's a secret."

  "I appreciate it. So what manner of novelty do you seek, Lady Imperia?"

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes dipping to the table. "A gift, actually, for a young man I favor." She looked up, regarding him warily. "The young man in question has been engaged to another since he was a little boy. You can see where my… rule-abiding father would not approve."

  "The less you tell me, the better, though I do appreciate the complicated nature of your dilemma," Cadmus replied. "My job is not to judge, admonish or advise. It is only to make the commissioned novelty and deliver it to the recipient. That being said, you are hardly the first to commission a piece meant to be gifted to a forbidden sweetheart."

  Her shoulders eased and her smile returned. "Oh, good. I was worried I might seem strange or forward."

  Cadmus laughed. "Oh, my lady, you are a long way from forward. I've made novelties that are meant for private viewing only."

  Her eyes widened, then she dissolved into giggles. "I see! That must be so interesting to do! Oh, to know who has naughty automaton in their homes!"

  He smiled. "What sort of novelty would your sweetheart like? Music box? Automaton? A clock?"

  "An automaton," she replied, clapping her hands and tangling her fingers together. "I saw one in Lady Betherford's parlor that had a little boy and girl picking apples, and it was absolutely charming. I was wondering if it might be possible to contrive something like that, only of a boy reading in a little library or pulling a book off a shelf or something like that."

  Sparks tingled along Cadmus's neck and down his spine as the image bloomed in his mind. He could feel the pieces he needed, the final creation they would make, the warmth and beauty of it. "I can do that. It will take me a couple of weeks and will be expensive." He quickly sketched a rough approximation of the design and listed a figure, then slid the sheet of paper across the table to her.

  She teared up and pulled out a handkerchief to dab at her eyes. "Master Cadmus, if it only half-resembles what you've sketched, it will be above and beyond perfect. Is it true you can build clever little secret drawers and such into them?"

  Cadmus smiled faintly, not remotely surprised she knew of that little detail, despite the fact those who had them were hardly in a hurry to share the knowledge. "Yes."

  "Could you d
o that for me? I would like to leave a note in it for the recipient. Nothing nefarious or anything, if you are worried about being caught up in something untoward."

  "I do not ask such questions unless the client gives me cause. You've not given me that cause. I will begin work, and when it's partially done I'll send word so you can approve the rough. We'll fine tune any details you'd like altered, adjust the price if necessary, and then I'll complete the work. The down payment is one quarter of the price."

  She clapped her hands and dug happily into her reticule, and dropped several heavy, gleaming coins onto the sketch before sliding it back across the table. "One quarter, sir."

  Cadmus smiled. "I'll send a note when I have the rough composite ready for you."

  "Thank you so, so much," she said, and pushed to her feet, darted around the table, and instead of shaking his hand she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Kissing his cheek, she then stepped away and said, "I truly appreciate this, Master Tulari. Thank you so very, very much."

  "My pleasure, my lady." He slowly ushered her to the door, mentally marking all the things she rambled about to decide on including or not in the final product.

  Once she was gone, he returned to his backroom. He settled on his stool and picked up right where he'd left off, polishing the little silver mice with sapphire eyes that would run around a gold cat with emerald eyes. The cat's twitching tail had taken him the longest, though timing everything so the mice would run under the tail as it twitched up had been the hardest.

  But now it was complete, and he was simply on cleaning and fussing. Soon this beloved treasure would be ready for its new home. Countess Mela was a sweet woman whose kids were grown and married off, leaving her with an empty house, plenty of spare time, and money aplenty to indulge her new-found freedom. This was actually the second automaton he'd done for her—the first was an erotic one she'd gifted to her paramour.

  The doorbell came again, and Cadmus sighed. Standing, he went to see who the latest uninvited guest was—and perhaps, when they were gone, he would turn the sign to closed for the rest of the day. At the rate this day was going, it was the only way he'd get work done.

  He growled as the stench of a familiar cologne, too sweet and too sour all at once, reached his nose right as he pushed through the curtain. "I told you to get out and stay out."

  Smiling, the man at the door prowled further into the room. "Now, Cadmus, I've been a reasonable man so far—"

  "You're not a man, you're a scheming snake," Cadmus snapped.

  The too-pleasant expression on the man's face vanished. "We're not snakes, and you're one to talk, you overgrown, scaly bird."

  Cadmus pointed to the door. "Get out of my shop."

  "I've offered you more money, more jewels, more treasure than you could acquire in another two hundred years—"

  "And I have told you countless times that the secret to my automatons is none of your business. I don't need a slimy wyrm offering me cold treasure you probably stole from someone else." Cadmus stepped around the counter and barreled toward the man, shoving hard when he was close enough, over and over again until the man slammed into the door.

  Reaching up, Cadmus wrapped a hand around his throat and hissed, "Stay out of my shop, Vidner. I'm growing weary of warning you away." He threw the door open and shoved Vidner out, then slammed it shut, turned the lock, and flipped the sign to closed.

  Hands shaking he returned to his backroom and immediately set to work going through every drawer, cabinet, shelf, and box to count every single piece of treasure. It was all there, he knew it was all there, he'd feel it if something had been taken—but Vidner left him sick and afraid, and he wouldn't be soothed until all his treasure had been counted, every last gear, cog, jewel, wire, and all the gold, silver, and other metals he used. Then the tools, fabrics, wood…

  By the time he was done counting everything, Cadmus was exhausted and hungry. He dragged himself over to the music box, gave it a last inspection, and finally packaged it for delivery first thing in the morning. After that, he made a pot of coffee and unwrapped the sandwich he'd bought earlier in the day.

  When his stomach had finally stopped complaining and he was feeling somewhat more awake, he pulled out his notes for Serena's automaton and a notebook he used to start laying out more detailed notes, sketches, and ideas. Once he had enough to begin, he went around his shop pulling out the bits and pieces he would need for the clockwork mechanism that would make the finished piece move.

  Some of the parts he had, but others would have to be made from scratch, which meant commissioning them. As much as he preferred to do everything himself, no matter how much extra labor that required, there were some things he was better outsourcing. Nobody was better at metal-work than gremlins, and they understood him better than most paranormals.

  He hummed as he moved on to selecting the jewels he would eventually use—for a little lamp, decorations on the clothes, flowers in a little vase on a table… Oh, it was going to be so very, very pretty. He could incorporate a book design into the key to turn it off and on, as well. Colors, colors…

  It was yet another rap on the door that drew him from his work a third time. Who in the world would be visiting him at this hour? Wait, what was the hour? Cadmus turned around and stared at the clock, heaving a sigh to see that he had yet again worked clear past midnight and well into morning.

  As the knocking came again and the clock struck five, he straightened his mussed clothes as best he could, smoothed his hair, and headed back to the front of the shop.

  His heart stopped as he caught sight of the figure waiting for him on the other side of the front door.

  Police Chief Harren Imperia, distant cousin of the throne, esteemed member of society, fierce enforcer of the law—and the single parent of a beautiful, tenacious, willful daughter, according to rumors. To judge by his encounter with Serena, Cadmus was more willing to believe those rumors.

  He'd seen Harren around the city on many occasions, but his favorite moment had been the one night he'd attended a city ball and somehow wound up dancing with Harren. It had been a waltz, and Cadmus still remembered every breath, heartbeat, and dizzying turn.

  Harren had exchanged polite conversation and bowed prettily, then slipped away to rejoin his friends, but his perfunctory demeanor had not slowed the pounding of Cadmus's heart.

  He was still so infuriatingly handsome: small and slight of build; the same flawless dark brown skin as his daughter; long black hair pulled back in a tidy queue; spectacles resting imperiously on his tiny nose; brown eyes that could intimidate more effectively than even the hungriest demon; plain but elegant clothes that bespoke a man who cared more for what he was doing than how he looked.

  Cadmus unlocked the door and stepped back as he pulled it open. "Good morning, Chief—"

  "What in the hells was my daughter doing here?" Harren demanded.

  "What?" Cadmus shook his head. "Beg pardon?"

  Harren narrowed his eyes and slammed the door shut before stepping into Cadmus's personal space. "One of my patrolmen mentioned in passing that he spied my daughter visiting your shop. She has no need of your ridiculous automatons or whatever else you sell in this absurd shop. So what was she really doing here?"

  Cadmus blinked, turned away to hide the sting of tears. Ridiculous? Absurd? Was that really what Harren thought of him? "Um. I'm sorry, Chief, but I'm not obligated to discuss my customers with you. Not unless you have a warrant."

  "I see," Harren replied. "You look familiar, why? I've heard about the dragon who makes automatons and other toys and such, but we've never met, so why do you look familiar?"

  Ouch. He'd known Harren hadn't been as enthralled with their dance as he, but it was still a blow to know he'd been so completely forgotten. Swallowing, staring at the floor, Cadmus said, "We've crossed paths before at social events, Chief." He looked up and tried a smile. "No doubt that's all that makes me familiar. We've never properly met."

  "Hmm.
" Harren starred at him a moment longer, then slumped and sighed. "You're right, you do not have to tell me anything. I shouldn't have come blazing in here demanding answers to which I'm not entitled. I apologize, sir."

  "It's all right. A parent has every right to be concerned for their child. She was here, I can confirm that, but I do not like to share the business of my customers. Discretion is as much a part of my reputation as my creations." He hesitated, then sighed inwardly at himself and said, "Would you like some coffee or tea? Perhaps if you tell me what has you so upset, I may be able to help without violating the trust of my customer."

  Harren made a face. "Coffee would be appreciated. I've been up all night hunting down a robber with no success, and I was about to go home when one of my beat cops told me my daughter was doing what I explicitly told her not to do." He scrubbed his face. "How about I treat you to coffee, since I am the one who has been so rude."

  "I wouldn't mind getting out of my shop for a bit," Cadmus said, willing his heart to slow down and not get all stupidly hopeful. "Let me fetch my coat and lock up."

  "Of course." Harren smiled, bowed his head slightly, and slipped outside.

  Cadmus hurried into the back of the shop and hastily made a better job of tidying himself before shrugging into his winter coat and snatching up his keys. Outside, he swiftly locked the front door and tucked the keys away. "Where shall we go? There's the one on the corner and a much better one on White Street."

  "White, certainly, unless you do not want to walk so far."

  "I love that one, and I meant it when I said I wouldn't mind getting out of my shop. I got caught up finishing one piece and then promptly starting on another and accidentally worked through the night."

  Harren stumbled to a halt. "You mean to tell me you haven't slept? What on earth could be so important about toys and music boxes that you forsake getting proper rest?"

  "It wasn't on purpose," Cadmus replied, face burning. "I simply get absorbed in what I'm doing and forget to stop."

  "Hmm." Harren huffed, not looking remotely appeased by the explanation. "I'd say that's a dragon thing, but I know plenty of persons across all species and races who do the same. I'll tell you the same thing I tell them: that's no excuse, and the best work is done by those who do not forget to care for themselves. You are far more important and vital to your craft than every cog and tool in your shop, Master Toymaker. Honestly, I expect this nonsense from my headstrong daughter, not a fellow professional."