by K. M. Shea
Bagel smiled up at me, peeling his lips back as I itched a spot on his forehead while Solstice rested his scratchy muzzle on my shoulder.
“Thanks for coming, guys. Did Dusk and Dawn tell you?” I asked, referring to the brother/sister dryads who were in charge of the stables, but also cared for all the glooms and shades, too.
Fax nodded, and his mane—made of blue and white flames—flickered higher than usual.
I spun around and had to stand on my tip toes to drape myself over Solstice’s back. “Thanks for sending for them, Chase.”
Chase shrugged a little. “It’s the safest way to get you home, and I thought their presence might reassure you.”
“Aww, you big softie!”
I heard a noise at the gate, and turned around to see a gloom and two shades wander through.
It wasn’t the ones that had declared themselves house pets, but the ones I’d named that lived in the stables. I recognized the gloom as the one I’d named Fluffy, and Bob and Larry were the shades that were now industriously sniffing in the shady spots where the creatures had emerged.
Chase’s people very respectfully stepped backwards as the shades marched through, following a scent trail of some sort. Fluffy padded behind them, pausing long enough to emit one of his angry-goblin screams that I was about 90% sure was supposed to be friendly but came off as intimidating, the poor kitty.
“It looks like you’re getting help?” I said.
“So it seems,” Chase said. “You ought to head back.”
“Yeah, I will. But where did Rigel end up—” I yelped when I turned back around and found Rigel standing with me in the center of the equine huddle. “Sheesh—you’re like a ghost.”
Rigel raised an eyebrow at me. “One would almost think that’s how I got the name of the Wraith.”
I don’t know if it was just because he usually had the facial expressions of a particularly handsome statue, or what, but there was something about the eyebrow that got me.
Like, I’d always known Rigel was drop dead gorgeous—he was a fae, for crying out loud. But his eyes rarely looked anything but dead, and right now…
This is that vampire’s fault, I decided. I wouldn’t be ogling my husband if she hadn’t put stupid thoughts in my head. I mean, do we even count as friends?
I’d been looking away, but when I glanced back at him that slight hitch to his eyebrow was still there.
Oh, yikes. I can’t imagine how handsome he would be if he gave a full on, true blue smile.
I’d seen his eyes brighten once, and it had been enough to throw the dial on his looks into deadly.
He could probably kill people with his good looks alone if he actually smiled.
I briefly scrunched my nose, irritated with myself for allowing myself to be bamboozled.
Obviously, this meant I had no choice but to be annoying.
“Oohh, yeah I wondered about that. I just assumed everyone called you the Wraith because you’re gloomy and silent, but this makes more sense.”
The look in Rigel’s eyes didn’t shift. “It does,” he agreed. “Unlike your very mistaken belief that you’re funny.”
“Ouch.” I clamped my hands to my heart. “Hubby, you wound me! You need to make it up to me.”
Rigel purposely shifted to face the gate. “If you’re going to suggest I talk the chef into allowing a coffee maker into the kitchen, my answer remains no.”
“Even more hurtful! But no.” I had to trot to keep up with him when he took a few steps toward the gates, he was that much taller than me. “I was going to ask if I could feel your abs.”
All of Chase’s people—expect for the dryad, who was now in the middle of a Whiskers-and-Kevin-love-sandwich—stopped and gaped at me.
Even Rigel flicked his eyes down at me, and the dead light in his eyes flickered with curiosity for a moment. “Why?” he asked.
“Well, I figure if I’m going to wax poetry about your muscles—in particular, your abs—to the other monarchs, I should probably touch them so my lies can be extra convincing.”
“You mean to imply that’s going to be a repeat performance?” he asked.
“Yeah—it is too funny not to.”
Rigel turned away from me. “You have a death wish.”
“Nah—oh, hey, hop on Fax and you can come back with us,” I called to him as I scrambled up Eclipse’s back.
The mare had a very slight build, and due to her emaciated look, her spine uncomfortably poked my butt; however, instant transportation beat out waiting for what Chase considered a proper number of guards.
When I was situated well enough that I could look for Rigel, he was already also mounted, riding Fax without a saddle or bridle.
“Ready?” I asked.
Rigel nodded, and our mounts turned toward the gate.
I glanced back to make sure Kevin and Whiskers were okay—they were, Kevin had joined the other shades in their hunt while Whiskers was licking the rather startled dryad.
Chase waved to me, but continued to chat with his men. Most surprisingly, though, was Lady Chrysanthe. She was still standing at the parking lot entrance.
Yeah, I thought as Eclipse stepped up to the gate. Definitely weird.
The next day—or, as I should admit to, at roughly five AM—I put my life on the line and tried twisting the doorknob of the door between my master suite, and Rigel’s.
The door had a lock on it, and I’d always assumed that Rigel kept his side locked, but when the knob turned, I pushed it in and gaped into the dark, unlit shadows of Rigel’s room.
“Huh. I didn’t think that would work,” I said.
“If you say it’s fine, I’m going to impale you.” Rigel’s voice was rough with sleep.
I peered around the darkened depths of his room before realizing he was actually in bed! “What are you doing?” I asked, shocked.
Chapter Nine
Leila
Rigel lifted his head off his pillow long enough to stare at me. “You break into my room and then demand to know what I’m doing?”
“The door was unlocked.” I wandered a few steps in, and was nearly knocked on my butt when Whiskers and Muffin—who’d been stretched out on my enormous bed less than two seconds ago—pushed past me to explore Rigel’s room.
Steve and Kevin came in as well, but they sat on either side of me, their tails wagging when I glanced down at them.
I set my hands on Steve and Kevin. “But that’s not important. You’re actually in bed?”
“As most people are at five in the morning,” Rigel said.
He sat up and pushed his sheet off, shocking me farther.
He slept shirtless—which gave me enough of a show to see that I hadn’t completely fibbed to the other monarchs because Rigel most assuredly had muscles worthy of recording—but I’d also assumed he’d sleep with…I don’t know…knives strapped to his pecs or something.
But he looked shockingly casual with black lounge pants and his hair devilishly mussed.
It shocks me that he doesn’t have every fae girl after him—though maybe it’s that dangerous aura of his.
“If you’re trying to catch me with my wings out, it’s not going to work,” Rigel said. “I woke up before I heard you stomp up to the door.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know why you think I’m obsessed with your wings. I’m not! You’re the one who keeps bringing them up!”
“Then why are you here?”
“I was thinking about yesterday.” I found a light switch on the wall and flicked it.
Once my eyes were adjusted to the light, I was surprised by the normalcy of his room.
It was nicely decorated in hues of dark blue and silver. He had his bed, a couch and leather chair, a TV, and lots of locked chests that I was betting held some of his personal armory.
Whiskers disappeared through a door that I was pretty sure led to the bathroom.
I wandered over to the couch and plopped down.
When I real
ized Rigel was staring at me, I sat up straighter. “Sorry, would you prefer if I stood?”
“I’d prefer to find out why you woke me up at this hour.”
“Sorry—I actually assumed you’d already be awake,” I said. “Sleeping doesn’t seem very assassin-y like.”
“I’m open to any suggestion you might have that would entail surviving without sleep,” Rigel said.
“I meant sleeping at night. I would have thought that’d be a good time to go out and get your stabby on,” I said.
“Five in the morning is too early.” Rigel stared down at Steve, who had wandered up to his bedside. “Early morning shift workers are already up—and they’re annoyingly alert, as you appear to be. A target is better taken off in the late hours of the night—when most are sleeping or too inebriated to be proactive.”
“Okay, that took a dark turn,” I said.
“You asked.” Rigel slid off his bed. He must have a hidden pocket or something for weapons, because he pulled a dagger seemingly from nowhere and tossed it on his nightstand. “What about the shadow creatures brought you stomping into my room at five in the morning?”
“You’re really hung up about the hour, huh?”
“Leila.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry.” I made a wheezing noise when Muffin decided to join me on the couch and used my stomach as a landing pad. “Wasn’t it kind of weird that the shadow monsters waited to attack until we were away from the crowd?”
Rigel folded his arms across his chest. “Because it would have been easier for the monsters to get you in a large crowd—particularly since you would be overly concerned about your Court and the humans present?”
“I hadn’t thought about that part—it just occurred to me we wouldn’t have had as much room to maneuver in a crowd. But you’re right. I would have been easier to kill because I would have been worried about the public.” I held my breath as Muffin purred and breathed in my face—her breath stank.
“You think this lack of foresight implies whoever sent the monsters after you is stupid?” Rigel asked.
“Maybe?” I frowned sharply enough to make my forehead wrinkle. “I don’t know what it could mean—I was just hoping you’d confirm it’s weird. Chase wasn’t able to uncover much yesterday, even though he swept the area for magic. He thinks the attacker stood on the rooftop seating area of a restaurant across the street—there were traces of magic there, anyway. But even the shades weren’t able to find a scent to track.”
“Does he think the attacker is from your Court?”
“Chase refuses to make any sort of guess without more evidence—he tells me I’m constantly jumping to conclusions. I think he’s just too nice, because this is almost certainly the work of one of the other monarchs. Probably Fell—he’s enough of a puke to try something like this.”
“Gaining the upper hand over the other monarchs and increasing the Night Court’s power should be your primary focus,” Rigel said. “If you manage it, and if you are right about your guess, it will solve the assassination attempts as well.”
“No, no, no,” I said. “I told you before, I don’t want to win the power games you fae play—I want to end it.”
“It may be possible for you to end political strife in the Night Court—at least during your reign,” Rigel said. “But the idea that you’ll ever be in a position to stop the other Courts from inciting fights and struggling to top one another is folly.”
Rigel, obviously, didn’t share my aspirations to end the infighting.
In fact, before we’d gotten married he’d told me that he was marrying me just so he could more easily kill me if I ended up being bad for the fae.
He’d relaxed on that vow—or at least I was assuming he had since he’d protected me in two different assassination attempts. Maybe he realized I wasn’t going to purposely bring ruin down on everyone?
Anyway, the point was I was still the only one cheering to end the games of power the fae played. Indigo, at least, was on my side. And I think Skye wanted to believe it was possible, but was afraid to hope I could pull it off.
“Rigel, Rigel, Rigel,” I sighed. “You are such a killjoy.”
“I grew up among the Courts of nobility,” Rigel said. “I’ve had to do terrible things to survive. That’s why I know your vision—though admirable—isn’t possible.”
I’d been playing with one of Muffin’s giant paws, but at the grimness in Rigel’s voice, I shifted on the couch so I could see him.
Rigel wasn’t looking back at me—he was staring into his bathroom, totally unaware of how sad his statement sounded. “Did that gloom turn on my shower?” he abruptly asked.
“Huh?” I said.
Rigel flicked his eyes to the door between our rooms, and threw a magic dagger. It hit the door, digging in hilt deep.
The door creaked open, and I barely had enough time to see a shocked and terrified Eventide standing on the other side of the door before Rigel stepped out of the shadows behind him.
How did he even get over there that fast?
“I assume he’s one of yours?” Rigel asked.
Eventide screamed and whirled around, his shoulders shaking as he peered up at Rigel.
“Y-yes,” I said once I found my voice. “Eventide—he’s a butler.”
Rigel glided around Eventide, stepped back into his bedroom, then closed the door in Eventide’s stunned face.
He wrenched his dagger from the door, leaving a gash in the door, then casually strolled back over to his bed.
My mind was still trying to catch up with him.
I hadn’t even seen where he pulled the dagger from.
I gulped.
I guess I really did take my life in my own hands when I burst in. But he doesn’t seem to mind too much?
Rigel tossed the dagger on the bed, then glanced in my direction. “I assume from the presence of your employee that you have something to see to? He was in your room and appeared to be holding a book.”
I hadn’t noticed the book, either. Wow, this has been a fun morning for my confidence!
“Yeah, I do a lot of studying this early in the morning, and I’m starting morning magic classes with Lord Linus this week, too.” I trailed off a little as I studied Rigel.
He had no qualms about terrifying poor Eventide, but he hasn’t made any indication that he really doesn’t want me busting into his room—besides complaining about the hour. I think…I think I trust him.
I cleared my throat and pushed Muffin off me so I could stand. “Yep, busy mornings. I need to get moving. Thanks, Rigel.”
He shrugged casually and turned his back to me.
I paused in the doorway of my room as it occurred to me I’d thanked Rigel several times, despite the dangers of saying thank you to a fae. I guess I trusted him a lot more than I even realized.
I bit my lip. “Hey Rigel?”
“What?”
“I really mean it.”
He peered at me over his shoulder. “What?”
“Thank you,” I repeated. “For everything.”
Rigel waited a moment, then nodded—acknowledging everything my thanks meant.
I gave him a super awkward smile as I tried not to ogle his abs, then closed the door.
Okay, maybe the “life advice” vampire wasn’t too far off. Maybe we are friends.
While I agreed to Skye telling me to take on Lord Linus as my teacher for my supplementary magic classes, I’d been planning to jettison him within days—I just had to give him enough time to prove his incompetence.
However, after two weeks of classes, even I had to admit the guy was a lot more knowledgeable than I would have thought.
And even though I purposely scheduled our classes for early mornings—or at least what other people would consider early mornings, as Rigel had witnessed I was usually up before five these days—he never once arrived late.
Lord Linus rubbed his chin as he watched me rotate a glass bottle, spiraling the last piece of a healing
spell into it. “You’re doing well.”
I frowned as I tied the spell off and watched the magic dissolve into the liquid, creating a healing potion. “It’s a very weak spell. I can only make the lowest graded kind of potions with it.”
“Yes, but you haven’t been trained in potion making,” he reminded me. “This is as well as a beginner can expect to do.”
I cautiously sniffed the potion.
Most potions tasted amazing, but my potion smelled faint. The raspberry scent I was supposed to reproduce was muted.
Is it even capable of curing a papercut like this? I tried to brush off the nagging sensation that this—my practice and my magic—would never be enough.
“It’d help, you know, if you told me exactly what you want,” Lord Linus said. “While you’re able to cast a low-grade healing spell to create potions, it’s obvious your magic is far better applied to taming your pets, and you’ve gotten fiercely good at barriers.”
“I know. I wasn’t very good at potions even when I took my magic classes at the Curia Cloisters as a kid. It’s just…” I looked out over the Night Realm—where we’d held all of our magic lessons. I’d chosen the spot because it was way less populated and I didn’t have to worry about accidentally hurting someone, but also because although the castle was crumbling and the plants were shriveled, I’d come to love the beauty of the quiet place.
I glanced at the sky, and my shoulders sagged as I studied the thousands of stars hanging there. “The Night Realm is shrinking, and I’m getting attacked. I need to be ready so I can stop our lands from disappearing and keep others from getting hurt.”
“That’s a pretty tall order,” Lord Linus said. “At its base, fae magic is hard to wield like a weapon. Wizard magic is a lot easier to strike with—it’s faster, and wizards can use the elements. We fae either have to be more physically trained—like Rigel—or more…strategic.”
I set the potion down on the table we’d assembled for today’s lesson. “I know the barrier needs to be my main concern, but I would have thought that to be Queen of the Night Court I’d need strong magic.” I picked up the next liquid filled bottle that was waiting for a healing spell—when you mixed up the ingredients it was better to batch them and pour a bunch at once, so I had several more to bespell—and wondered how much I could tell him.
