by C. S. Wilde
“People from the slums don’t judge.” Bast shrugged. “Either that, or they thought you were my whore.”
Her siren smiled eagerly. ‘Let’s prove them right!’
Down, girl.
Bast headed to the fridge and grabbed two beers. “I love it here. The place could use some renovation, but it’s still pretty great.”
Clearly, he was blind. Or at the very least, he saw this place through thick, rose-colored glasses.
He handed her a bottle and clinked it against his own in a toast. “Also, the view is amazing.”
He did have a point. The center of Tir Na Nog—which might be the size of Clifftown, maybe bigger—stood magnificent in the distance, half circled by mountains with glittering lights just like the ones from these slums.
The fae constructions differed from human architecture, which was mostly formed of sharp rectangles, with glassy façades that reached out to the sky.
Clean. Efficient. Lifeless.
Fae buildings, on the other hand, resembled palaces from faerie tales, filled with curves, rococo swirls, and smooth, colorful shapes that built atop one another.
Some of the constructions did reach for the sky, like that white building—or was it a castle?—which built atop itself in the way of a fancy wedding cake. Mera narrowed her eyes to spot vines drooping down the balconies, shaping green waterfalls.
Still, skyscrapers such as this were an exception in Tir Na Nog.
One glass building did resemble the ones from back home. It stuck out from the rest of the city like a sore thumb, but it was only a few floors high. Probably where the embassy and border agency were located—ridiculous since it all belonged to Hollowcliff. She guessed Bast’s precinct might be in there too, but she would find out sooner or later.
Far in the distance, beyond the valley occupied by the borough, Mera could almost spot the ocean.
She took a long gulp of her beer. It wasn’t as bitter as the ones from Clifftown, and it went down her throat smoothly. “This is good.”
“It’s fae ale.” Bast watched the view, his jaw set. “Down we go, into the lion’s den.”
Biting her lower lip, she nodded to the city ahead. “I must admit that as a human, I’m not looking forward to waltzing down those streets.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll be safe. Most fae who despise humans are big players who don’t mingle with the rest of us. You might face some resistance from snobby Sidhe, but that’s all.” His attention never left Tir Na Nog. “They say this city chews you up and spits out the bones. But the truth is, Tir Na Nog is what we make of it. For that, it’s merciless and perfect.” He nudged her shoulder with his arm. “And you’re a tough cookie.”
She chuckled. “Ass.”
A moment of silence passed between them.
“Hey, did the witch call you a prince, or did I get that wrong?”
“I used to be a prince, yes,” he admitted quietly. “I ran away from that a long time ago, kitten. Not that it made a difference. There are hundreds of princes throughout the fae state, didn’t you know? Light and dark, and these are just the Seelie Courts. If you count the Unseelie…” He blew a whistle. “Too many princes to count.”
“But how many Night princes are there?”
“Five.” He nodded slowly to the view. “Do you know why I joined the cops?”
She shook her head, seeing through his diversion but knowing better than to push.
“The fae state, kingdom back then, rejected nightlings and icelings after the civil war. Until the unification, Night and Winter fae couldn’t set foot in the kingdom. Once it all became Tagrad, the government fought for our rights, going head-to-head with the light courts until they struck a deal.”
He turned to her with a certain melancholy behind his eyes. “How could I not fight for the country that brought me back home?”
“Detective Dhay, you have more layers than I assumed.” She clinked her bottle with his, and took another gulp of her beer. “Does every night fae have magic like yours?”
A merciless force that destroyed everything in its path.
“Not really. Magic is wild and feral, but once tamed, it adapts to its owner.” Finishing his beer, he placed the empty bottle on the coffee table. “It’s why no magic is ever the same.”
If Bast truly had his magic under control, which she highly doubted when she remembered those ravenous beady eyes, why had it been so… destructive?
“You had fangs,” she blurted.
He cocked his head left, considering her words. “I also have wings, but you don’t see them all the time.”
“Hiding who you are from others seems to be a habit for you,” she noted.
Funny how much they had in common.
“Life in Tir Na Nog is an ongoing battle,” he scoffed. “Hiding what I can do from others is not only an advantage, but it often means my survival. So yes, I watch my own skin.”
She raised her beer bottle to him. “Nothing wrong with that.”
He gave her a sad grin. “The problem, kitten, is that the main courts—Summer, Autumn, Spring—hold too much power in this state.” The impact of the sentence hung in the air between them. “Many fae in my precinct are like me. Pariahs, who don’t belong with the mighty light. And still, you can’t trust them because the light courts influence everything and everyone.”
“Find an honest faerie and you find gold,” Mera muttered the saying she’d overheard countless times in her precinct.
“Pretty much.” Bast’s forehead crumpled as he watched the city. “My Captain is the most honest fae I know, but he must cede to the courts’ power every now and then. I doubt any other captain in all the boroughs goes through the same.”
She nearly choked on her beer. “There are fae foolish enough to tell your captain what to do?”
Heck, Mera had never seen someone do that to Ruth. Even her superiors walked on a very thin line when dealing with her.
The woman scared them shitless.
Bast chuckled without any humor. “You know why he’s Captain? The king of the Autumn Court exiled him, because he denounced a duke who had a human slave to the authorities. Before the unification, this would’ve cost him his head, but Hollowcliff police picked him up and enlisted him.”
“That’s horrible,” she mumbled, a grim sensation prickling in her chest.
“It’s Tir Na Nog, kitten.”
“How are the courts allowed to exile someone who was abiding to Tagradian law? That’s… insane.”
“The light courts don’t recognize most of our laws, and when they do, it’s because of police reinforcement.” He shrugged. “They’ve been getting more daring recently, Danu knows why.”
Her fingertip tapped the neck of her bottle in thought. “In that context, the Summer King’s murder seems… convenient.”
“I can’t say I’m sorry to see him go,” he admitted. “But I’m a detective first, and a bastard with a grudge second.”
Her elbow softly knocked against his side. “Smartass.”
Bast undid his bun and set it higher. “I do love my job, you know. Bringing justice to those who have no voice. Going against the light courts as much as I can, without fucking over my precinct and Captain. It’s the first thing that has fulfilled me since…” He turned to the window and frowned. “I can’t remember.”
They watched the landscape in silence for a while, until Mera finished her beer and set it on the coffee table.
“So, what should I expect tomorrow?” she asked. “What’s the Summer Court like? Considering everything you told me, I can’t interrogate them the same way as I do everyone else.”
Observing her the way a feline watches a mouse, he approached slowly. Poseidon in the trenches, how she hated getting so easily lost in those blue eyes, ensnared by his strong, woodsy scent. And his body, damn it, it spoke to her, like the songs her kind used to sing to lure sailors.
“We have to walk on eggshells to get their cooperation,” he admitted, his tone low
and hoarse as he halted too close to her. Damn fae had some serious boundary issues. “We have to feign respect and humility. Be submissive.” Slowly licking his lips, he leaned closer. “Are you ready for that?” he whispered softly at the curve of her neck.
Her hands fisted as every inch of her body tensed in response to him. “I can do submissive.”
“Hm, I would love to see that,” he spoke lowly, the corner of his mouth brushing her cheek.
With the last inch of courage she had, Mera stepped away and crossed her arms. “You had too much beer.”
“Sure, let’s blame it on the alcohol.” He winked at her, then went to his bag. Pulling out a black shirt, he set it atop the kitchen counter. “Also, don’t eat or drink anything they offer.”
Bast began unbuttoning his vest and nodded to a door close to the kitchen. “You can sleep in my bedroom.”
Mera barely recorded what he’d said. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
He threw the vest on the sofa and proceeded to unbutton his shirt, a burning dare in his eyes. Mera took in his strong, defined abs, and a delirious warmth went down her spine.
He tossed the shirt atop the sofa too, showcasing his perfect chiseled torso and strong biceps, meant to wrap around a woman as she rode his…
“Enjoying the show, are we?” He began undoing his belt, his deceiving, sharp eyes burning with lust.
Mera’s throat was so dry it might be made of sand. “I…”
Noticing the massive bulge underneath his black boxer briefs, she stepped forward. She wanted, needed, to touch that part of him; lick it, hold it, shove it inside her until…
No!
This was wrong. He was her partner, at least for the time being.
“Stop being a dick, Detective Dhay.” Grasping her bag, she hurried into the bedroom, slamming the door closed behind her. Her rushed breaths rang loudly in her ears.
‘Idiot,’ her siren grumbled.
Chapter 10
10
* * *
According to Bast, the Summer King’s three-story penthouse occupied the last floors of the wedding cake building she’d spotted yesterday, one of the tallest constructions in town. He’d also told her that a third of the entire Summer Court—the second most powerful after Autumn—lived inside the structure.
The building’s vast entrance hall resembled a giant cave entirely made of gold. Three elevators were located at the back, and a round, white-marbled helpdesk stood at the center of the space. Summer fae strolled about, paying them no attention.
Bast led Mera to the main desk, his steps clanking against the shining floor. He showed his badge to the guard, a bark-skinned fae with golden hair and uniform, who seemed to blend in with his surroundings.
“We have an appointment,” he said.
The fae eyed Bast and Mera with disgust. “Police only goes in with a warrant.”
He spoke in English, which seemed awfully kind of him. And strange, since he clearly didn’t like the police.
“Ah, really?” Bast eyed his own nails as if he didn’t have a worry in the world. “Let me get this straight. I have to grab a warrant to attend a scheduled meeting that your queen is well aware of. Is that right?”
The guard crossed his bulky arms and nodded.
“I don’t like to waste my time, Lionel. It’s very precious to me,” Bast warned casually, but there was a sharp, veiled threat in his tone.
The guard swallowed. “Bimi is in jail because of you, Detective.”
“Bimi was selling fae crystal three blocks away from my headquarters. Of course I put him in jail. Your bosses hired a Sidhe in my precinct to get rid of the evidence, as they often do, but guess what, asshole?” He leaned forward on the counter and bared his teeth. “That corrupt fucker is in jail, too.”
“Fuck you, Sebastian.”
“Always a charmer.” He knocked on the desk’s marbled surface. “Are we doing this the easy or the hard way? I’m up for both.”
Lionel, who was taller and a lot bulkier than her partner, gulped. He glanced at Bast, then at Mera. “Fine, but the human stays.”
“The human goes,” Mera added pointedly. “And if you were speaking in English just to intimidate me, it didn’t work.”
Bast raised his shoulders. “My partner bites, Lionel.” Swiveling on his feet, he went to the elevators, leaving a flabbergasted guard behind.
Mera followed him.
“I thought they’d give me a hard time for being human,” she said as the elevator’s glassed doors opened, and they got into it.
“Light courts hate cops as much as they hate humans.” Bast pressed the top button on the panel, then shoved his hands in his pockets as the elevator began to ascend.
The anxious tapping of Mera's foot on the glass floor echoed around them, while her eyes wandered toward her left, taking in the full view of Tir Na Nog. Shifting right, she noticed the building’s stories rush by them through the glass doors, but she couldn't hear the grinding of engines or motors in the background. “Let me guess, the elevator’s fueled by magic.”
“Of course,” he said. “We could’ve flown to the penthouse’s balcony⸺most fae use them as landing pads. But I figured we shouldn’t barge in like that.”
She nodded. “We have to play nice.”
Winking at her, Bast laid his head back on the glass wall. “We can try.”
The elevator soon opened to a big main foyer.
One of the help—a sprite with green skin and hair, who wore a golden maid’s uniform and a white apron—greeted them before going to fetch Lisandra Ferris, Zev Ferris’ wife, and queen of the Summer Court.
Well, at least the sprite had been more courteous than Lionel.
White marble covered the floors and stretched wall to wall, deep into the arch that separated the entrance from an enormous living room. A golden chandelier carrying hundreds of unlit candles floated near the ceiling—an enchanted object, like the wooden buses that cut across town, and the building’s fancy elevators.
White roses twirled around the golden rails of the marbled staircase on their right, which led to the second and third floors. The golden baseboards lining the bottom of the marbled walls had to cost more than Mera’s yearly salary. And the golden entrance hall at the ground floor… fuck, that must be enough to buy a small island.
“Are all royals this excessive?” she whispered to Bast.
He waved his hand dismissively. “This is nothing, kitten.”
The sprite returned, bowing slightly at them. “The queen will see you in the living room.”
The first thing Mera noted when they entered the space, were the five rococo archways that led into an enormous balcony outside, allowing daylight to flood the entire penthouse. Golden curtains hung beside the archways, fluttering against soft breezes.
She then studied the parade of invaluable paintings which hung on the left wall, facing a beige sofa in the middle of the room. An exact copy of the chandelier from the entrance hung midair, above the sofa, and a round carpet made of white peacock feathers stretched underneath the seating.
“Esses thu, Sebastian Dhay?” A high-pitched voice rang from the right.
Under an arched passage that led to another room in the penthouse, stood a female with straight red hair that fell like a waterfall past her pointy ears. Gold, hoop earrings decorated her lobes in the same fashion as her dead husband.
The faerie wore a sleeveless green dress that highlighted her straight chest and collarbone, the sleek fabric hugging all the curves she didn’t have. A golden headband encrusted with green emeralds pulled her hair back.
Oh wait. It wasn’t a headband.
It was a crown.
Mera was familiar with those.
“Hello, Lisandra,” Bast greeted as a muscle ticked in his jaw, his body tense with fake cordiality. “My colleague doesn’t speak Faeish, so could we stick to the first national language?”
First National language. A polite jab at their host.
Lisandra stepped down into the living room, her attention never leaving him. “I’d heard you’d gone the public route. Who could’ve imagined.” Craning her neck left, she clicked her tongue. “Pity, really. You were the best shag I’ve ever had, but now, only this revolting whore you brought to my property would take you.”
‘Anytime, bitch,’ her siren growled.
Mera wanted to slap that stuck-up faerie senseless, but she had a job to do, and she had to be meek.
Submissive.
With a smirk, Bast took Lisandra’s hand, kissing it, then licked her skin with the tip of his tongue. Slowly. Gently. The way one would when…
Lisandra drew a shaggy breath.
“Charming as always, your majesty,” Bast offered, his tone low and rough. The bastard knew the effect he had on women.
He knew it very well.
Fire spread inside Mera’s chest. Sure, he’d done that to humiliate Lisandra in his own way, but did he need to kiss her hand in an over-sexualized way? Really?
Her siren let out a longing sigh. ‘I wonder what that tongue of his can do…’
Shut up!
“Queen Lisandra,” Mera started, trying to ignore the urge to punch the damn fae. “Thank you for having us. We’d like to ask you a few questions about your husband, Zev Ferris.”
The faerie shot her a wolfish grin. She snapped her fingers and the same sprite who had welcomed them stepped into the living room.
“May I offer you something to drink, Detective?” she asked. “The greatest delicacies in the world are available at your request.”
Nice try.
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
Lisandra’s red lips became a thin line as she waved the maid away. “You’ve taught your human pet well, Sebastian.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What was the plan, Lisandra? Turn her into a toad?”
“Of course not. You know I’m much more sophisticated than that.” She eyed Mera up and down. “I’d turn your pet into a bug and squash her with my foot.”
