by K. M. Shea
“Yes,” Skye murmured. “It’s a position traditionally ear marked for such fae because it gives them a direct line to the ruling monarch.”
Surprise! More politics!
“Thanks, that’s good to know.” I strolled in, making a show of looking around, when in reality I was considering Skye’s earlier advice.
What motivation can I use since loyalty is off the table?
“Right.” I clapped my hands a few times, buying myself a few moments. “Who, here, is applying for this position because of money? Please raise your hand.”
Chapter Nine
Leila
One of the sirens, the brownie, and the sylph all raised their hands.
“Great,” I said. “Everyone else can go.”
The fae gaped at me for a moment, but gathered up their things and left with much more elegance and style than any of the spoiled nobles had.
Next to me, Skye shifted. Her expression didn’t give anything away, but she’d stopped tapping away on her phone.
“I know you said to ask for loyalty, and there may have been someone in that group that genuinely wants to see the Night Court improve,” I explained. “But loyalty is fleeting. I want something that lasts forever.”
“The desire for steady employment?”
“Nope. Greed.” I grinned at Skye, then turned my attention to the three remaining candidates. “You’re here for money—what do you mean by that?” I asked.
The siren slightly bowed her head. “I desire whatever money I receive as compensation for my position.”
Okay, that was neatly worded enough that she could be referring to bribe money—which means it’s a solid no for her.
The Sylph was next. She straightened her blouse then smiled at me. “I am intrigued by humans, whom I have heard possess generous spirits. I would happily serve such a person.”
Pretty sure she thinks I’m an idiot she can sweet talk money out of. Not the worst motivation, but hopefully the brownie is better.
I smiled emptily and turned to the brownie.
As it is with all brownies, she was smaller—about waist high—and had thin, willowy limbs.
“And what made you apply for this job?” I asked.
“The offered salary,” the brownie bluntly said.
I perked up at her plain words. “Only the offered salary?”
The brownie peered at me with shiny brown eyes, slightly magnified by a pair of classy cat-eye glasses. “Yes?”
“What else attracted you to the position?” I asked.
“The size of the salary,” the brownie said.
“You already said that.”
“You asked them about their motivations.” The brownie nodded her head at the other candidates. “I’m telling you mine. It’s the salary, the size of the salary, and the holiday bonuses.”
Annnndd I’d found her. This was exactly who I wanted to hire. Someone who was money minded rather than shifty—like the sylph and siren.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Indigo, Queen Leila.” She curtsied, pulling her skirt wide with the motion.
“That’s a pretty name. Indigo, welcome to the team!”
“What?” The sylph drew back, her airy powers making her hair flutter in her disbelief.
“Sorry, that was pretty poor leadership.” I gave the sylph and siren my business look. “I am gratified that you applied for the position, but we’ll be going with someone else. Thank you for your time.”
“But she’s a brownie,” the sylph said.
Ahhh yes, the Paragon was right.
I needed to win the power game in my own Court—so people stopped questioning me about my food choices and hiring habits.
It’s fine!
I propped one fist up on my hip. “Yeah. And?”
“A companion is supposed to represent the best of us common fae. A brownie companion will make our Court a laughing stock at multi-Court socials!” the sylph said.
“Yeah, and I’m concerned about what the nobles spend their time actually doing all day since there’s apparently all this time for socials, but we’re not solving that problem today. Thanks for applying. Goodbye.” I turned my back to the sylph and smiled at my new companion/assistant.
It wasn’t that I didn’t understand what the sylph was alluding to—she was talking about the second level of this power game.
But the fact was if I didn’t get my Court under control, it didn’t matter how little the other Courts thought of us, because I’d be dead. For now, surviving my own people was the highest priority—starting with picking employees that weren’t going to betray and/or possibly harm me.
The door creaked as Skye opened it for the upset applicants.
“Eventide?” I called.
The faun scurried through the door. “Yes, Queen Leila?”
“How many other people am I supposed to hire today?”
“Oh, yes. Um, your director of security.”
“That’s it?”
The faun discreetly checked a tiny notepad he whipped out of a pocket of his uniform. “Yes. You will eventually need to decide on an advisor, but no one has volunteered for the position as of yet.”
“Great—we’re done, then. Like I told Skye, I want an ad placed through the Curia Cloisters for the director of security position. Is there anything I have to do?”
The faun shut his notepad. “Your new companion and steward need to be briefed—they will take over handling your schedule. You have an appointment with a tailor this afternoon for your new wardrobe, but your companion will help you with that.”
“Cancel the tailor,” I said.
“B-but Queen Leila! You need…that is to say…” The faun wrung his hands and eyed my cute but very human lace shirt I was wearing.
Skye was better dressed than me in her slacks and flawless dress shirt.
Ugh. As little as I like it, something tells me the way I dress is going to be part of the power game. But that’s fine—I just have to figure out how to do it in the cheapest way possible.
I grimaced. “Reschedule for later this week, please. I know I need clothes, but there are a few things I need to iron out first.”
Eventide relaxed so much he looked like he might pass out in relief. “Yes, of course. It will be as you say.” He bowed three times for good measure. “I will return after rescheduling the appointment to give your new staff their work phones and pass along to you the numbers you’ll need for your head housekeeper, gardener, and the like.”
“Great—thanks, Eventide!”
The faun left looking like he needed a massage or something to lower his stress levels, the poor guy.
I squared my shoulders and studied my new employees.
Indigo was squinting at me behind her cat-eye glasses, her slightly upturned nose scrunched in suspicion.
Her thick, russet colored hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her skinny frame was covered by an oversized blue sweater—which seemed a little strange given that even though the air conditioning was on, it wasn’t that cold—and a simple but neat, gray skirt that covered most of her knobby knees.
She reminded me a bit of a pony with her thick hair, small stature, and big temperament.
Skye was the other end of the spectrum with a pleasantly blank expression, slightly plain but flawless clothes, and her adorably curled bob. Although she didn’t look suspicious, I could feel her reserve stacked around her like a brick wall.
“I sort of already said this, but thank you for applying for your positions, and congratulations. I hope we get to know each other quite well,” I said, rattling off the standard welcome speech I’d heard in training for the various retail positions I’d held as a high schooler and college student.
When they both bowed their heads, I continued. “As part of your welcome, I want you both to know that should you ever be offered a bribe, please know I will always pay higher.”
Indigo’s jaw dropped, and Skye’s eyes widened slightly.
>
“Queen Leila?” Skye asked.
I shrugged. “I’m not stupid. Nobles, probably even fae from other Courts, are going to offer you money and ask you to do things. When this happens, come to me, and I will always pay more than them.”
“You are our queen,” Skye started. “Our loyalty—”
“Is definitely not with me,” I interrupted. “I might be human, but I know about the constant political upheaval in Courts. I know about the betrayals, the underhanded dealings, and the bribes. Even if I hadn’t known before, getting targeted by the Wraith was a pretty solid indicator of what life in the Courts is like.”
“The Wraith tried to kill you?” Indigo squeaked.
I waved a hand at her. “He didn’t know the night mares had bound me as queen so he wouldn’t be able to. It’s fine. It’s not like he was the first person to try, either. I’m pretty sure a giant spider was sent after me as well, back when only Eclipse was around and I was just a candidate to be queen.”
Indigo—her eyes bulging—looked to Skye, who now had faint creases in her forehead that hadn’t been there before.
“I’m not asking for your undying loyalty or faithfulness,” I continued. “I just want to be able to guarantee your continued service.”
Really, I wanted to buy their loyalty, but that sounded pretty slimy to say and would speak a little too loudly of how I felt about being queen. Plus, it might offend them.
Thankfully, they seemed more shocked by my conduct than put off.
“Do we have an agreement?”
“That if we are offered incentives or bribes, we’ll come to you and you will offer a better deal?” Skye slightly shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe her own paraphrase.
“Yes, exactly!” I beamed. “I think we’re going to get along great.”
Skye bowed. “I am honored to be your steward.”
Indigo pushed her glasses up her nose, then curtseyed. “And it’s my honor—and delight—to be your companion!”
Some of the tension I’d been holding in relaxed. I wasn’t alone anymore. I didn’t trust Skye or Indigo, but at least I could count them as allies. And I needed them, badly. I didn’t know the first thing about the Night Court, and that had to change.
This little plan of mine was going to cost me, but I’d ditch the Chicago condo and cut where I had to if it meant I knew the two people I worked most closely with wouldn’t betray me.
“Yep, I feel pretty confident no one is going to recognize this as a human clothing brand.” I inspected myself in the mirror, admiring the dress—which was a dark, blue-ish gray color with a navy blue lace overlay.
It was a lot fancier than anything I’d normally wear, but with all the socializing the fae did, I’d come to realize that a wardrobe change was needed after all. However, with the power of the internet, and by harnessing Indigo’s brilliant mind, we’d hatched a plan that saved me the cost of having an entire tailor-made wardrobe. I didn’t even want to think how much that would have cost.
Instead, I bought my clothes online with a lot of advice from Indigo—who had a better idea what kind of clothes I needed as well as an eye for fashion—from human retailers. We then cut off the tags, and paid the tailor to custom fit them to me.
Which, have you ever wondered why off the rack clothes seem to perfectly fit glamorous celebrities? Yeah, it’s because they pay a tailor to take them in.
So I had a wardrobe that wouldn’t disgrace me—particularly because my nobles would never recognize human brands even if I was waltzing around with a jacket covered in brand patches—and for a fraction of the price!
Indigo studied the dress and leaned closer to inspect the fabric. “It’s a suitable tea dress.”
I found the book on manners Skye had gotten for me to read up on—she obviously didn’t have very high hopes for me because it had a lot of illustrations and was written for kids. “Or maybe a coffee dress?” I suggested.
“A coffee dress? That doesn’t exist,” Indigo said.
“Don’t the nobles ever drink coffee together?” I asked hopefully.
In all my secret trips to the kitchens—I was still on my “don’t-eat-what-fae-have-made” diet and had to sneak my food—I’d never managed to find a coffee maker, to my disappointment.
“No.” Indigo wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Tea only. Fae grow specialty tea leaves you cannot find outside of the fae realm and have flavors beyond reckoning.”
I took my kids’ manners book and skulked over to a chair, readying myself to read about “Good Manners Mandy” and “Uncivil Sandy”. It was a fascinating read, I promise. “Only if you like tea,” I grumbled.
Indigo hung a pair of slacks the tailor had fit for me in my walk-in-closet—which was about as big as my bedroom back at my parents’ house. “What did you say?”
I was saved by a knock on the door.
Indigo scurried to open it, her russet hair—which was shoved up in a bun today—bouncing on the top of her head. She poked her head outside, then flung the door open. “It’s Skye.”
“Come on in, Skye,” I called to my steward.
Skye entered, her head slightly tilted down as she bowed. She looked like a high rolling CEO with her business suit—which had the familiar Night Court crescent moon embroidered over a pocket—and carried a smartphone and tablet, both of which chirped roughly every ten seconds.
“Queen Leila, I have an update for you.”
I set my book down. “Did someone finally offer to be my advisor?”
Skye shook her head. “No. Not yet.”
“Ahh, okay.” I took in a deep breath of air and puffed my cheeks as I thought.
In the few days that had passed since I hired Skye and Indigo, they explained that an advisor was an official Court position, granted to fae who were exceptionally intelligent and capable of helping the ruling monarch make good decisions.
Basically, he or she was an experienced expert I could consult if I needed advice. It was an incredibly influential position…and no one had applied for it yet.
I’m pretty sure no one applied at first because they didn’t know how to best appeal to me, and after what Skye said about my questions being unspeakably rude when I was interviewing the steward candidates, I’m pretty sure that really miffed them, and now the nobles were paying me back by refusing to help.
Oh, they’d cave eventually. But when I finally did start receiving offers, I had no idea how I was going to choose someone that didn’t intend to manipulate me for their own purposes.
“I have, however, interviewed the candidates answering the online advertisement for the director of security position, as you instructed,” Skye said.
“And?”
Skye pressed her lips together—flattening them. I’d come to learn that this, and the crease on her forehead, were her two only real tells of displeasure. “I regret to say that there was only one candidate I found worthwhile, and I do not know that you will approve of him.”
I grabbed an apple—swiped from the kitchens—which I’d kept in a duffle bag. “Why wouldn’t I approve of him?”
Skye glanced down at her tablet. “You expressly wished to hire a wizard.”
“Yes.”
“He’s a werewolf.”
I cringed. “And he was the best candidate?”
Skye swiped through some screens. “He has the best background, experience, and moral discipline. Several wizards applied for the position, but most of them were underqualified. The one candidate I had hopes for proved to be incompetent during her interview.”
I chewed on my lip as I thought.
I’d wanted a wizard as my director of security because wizards are naturally immune to most kinds of fae magic. That would be a seriously big help in trying to keep me safe while I played the fae’s game.
“Should I post the position to the Curia Cloisters website again?” Skye asked.
“Not yet—I should at least meet him first. Where is he?”
“I took him
to the stables—as you instructed I should do if I found a worthy candidate.”
“Okay, let’s go meet him. Come on, Indigo.” I marched out of my room and veered down the hallway.
I still hadn’t slept great since becoming queen, so I’d spent my nights walking the mansion when reviewing finances got too depressing. Which meant I was getting more familiar with the layout.
“Do you need to change?” Indigo bounced at my side, her glasses nearly sliding off her nose.
“Nah—the dress is machine washable.” I tossed my apple up in the air and caught it. “Anything I should know about the position, Skye?”
Skye spent the several minute walk from my room down to the base floor of the mansion and then out back to the stables describing the various duties a director of security would have.
It really made me sad there were no good wizard candidates, and by the time we reached the so-expensive-I-was-still-cringing-stables, I was leaning more toward posting the ad again.
Together, my steward, companion, and I clattered into the stable aisle, eliciting noises from the horsey residents.
About half of the sun stallions were gone, but my bony, dull-coated night mares had taken up residence in the empty stalls, and they were the ones who called out to me. They tried to sound cute—they really did. But instead of nickering warmly like Fax, the old sun stallion I was keeping, they seemed to almost growl.
Their noises made the young man standing in the center of the aisle turn around to face us and bow in one smooth movement. He’d probably heard us when we’d been walking across the lawn, given his werewolf hearing.
“Queen Leila, might I present Chase Washington of the Northern Lakes Pack,” Skye announced.
“Hello, Chase.” I smiled.
“Queen Leila,” Chase said.
He was a few years older than me—maybe on the edge of thirty—but werewolves age slowly, so I could have been wrong about that. I mean, they don’t age as slowly as fae, but magic seems to preserve supernaturals. Age was always an iffy thing among our kind.
His warm sepia-brown skin tone made the cutting yellow color of his eyes—a mark of his werewolf heritage—that much more startling. His black hair was very precisely cut—short on sides and slightly longer on top with just a hint of dense curls—and he wore a business suit for our meeting.
