by K. M. Shea
Yes. She’s the only one with the guts to openly shoot at someone. I can only imagine the reaction provoked.
For a second, I wished I had been present to witness the act. Queen Leila was funny in her anger.
I stared the new queen down, but it seemed that she wasn’t in the mood for any rude sayings today. She was hastily turning her massive beast around.
Dion turned on his charm, oozing likability and flashing a grin that had multiple ladies in the Night Court cooing over him. “Queen Leila—you look lovely today.”
“Thank you, Lord Dion.” She twisted around in the saddle with the familiarity of someone used to it.
It wasn’t surprising—I’d seen her parents’ farm.
It was interesting, though, that when she placed her hand on the night mare’s rear to stabilize herself, the giant creature didn’t budge.
I suppose they bound her because they like her.
“It’s a splendid day for a ride,” Dion said.
Our queen squinted at him. “I’m not sure I agree to that. It’s hot. I’d get rid of my jacket if I could, but I have been informed it’s necessary.” She cast a side look at her steward, who—aware that she ranked lower than Dion and me, even with her new position—had her eyes downcast, fixed on her hands.
“Would you care to ride with us for a spell?” Dion asked.
“Ah—no.” Queen Leila gave him a mini salute. “Sorry. Wouldn’t want to intrude on this festival of manliness.” She narrowed her eyes at me and sucked her head into her shoulders in wariness.
A muscle in my chest twinged with her unexpected hilarity—she looked like an angry turtle.
Oh, yes. I really wish I had been there to see her shoot at Lady Chrysanthe. It must have been highly amusing.
Dion laughed, using every ounce of his charisma to appear charming. “Queen Leila, you wound me.”
“If this is a festival of manliness, I imagine you’d fit in,” I said.
Queen Leila’s suspicion crusted over, and her vibrant purple eyes were little slits. “Oh?”
I prepared myself for a good show, because I was about to push one of her buttons. “You have the boldness for it, given you can shoot at one of your own courtiers. Is that not extremely manly?”
Her eyes flashed, and her open scorn was vibrant and colorful among the usual guarded fae reactions. “The ability to fight back isn’t limited to males—you just have outdated, backwater beliefs, you hulking mountain goat!”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “Your actions surpassed gender distinction. You are in a class of your own: stupidly bold.”
Queen Leila made a choking noise.
“Rigel,” Dion growled between clenched teeth. “Queen Leila, I apologize—Rigel is not used to dealing with such magnificent women as yourself. Many would find your firearm-related capabilities admirable.”
“I question that, given I only shot at Lady Chrysanthe about half an hour ago and you two already know about it,” Queen Leila said. “Unless you have a secret passion for gossip, Lord Rigel?”
“Ahaha.” Dion used the fake laugh he trotted out whenever he was trying to smooth a situation over. “Gossip is such an ugly word. Do let us return to civilities and polite language—”
“The screams were hard to miss,” I said.
“Ahh, Lady Chrysanthe does have a lovely set of lungs,” Queen Leila said.
“Quite,” I agreed.
Dion and the queen’s steward stared at us both for several moments of silence. Dion, particularly, gave me the stink eye.
I stared back at him.
While I’m not sure our queen’s blunt way of speaking will have a positive influence on the Court, I’m going to enjoy it as long as she’s around—or as long as that particular quirk survives. Once she realizes we’re bound to her will I imagine it’s only a matter of weeks before she has us dancing to her orders like puppets.
It was an idea I did not look forward to, though I was relatively skilled at evading royal orders. But the thought alone was enough to make me push another one of our half human queen’s buttons.
“You brought a gun to a hunt?” I asked.
“Yep.” She gave me a bored look. “Because I, unlike the rest of you fae, apparently, live in the twenty first century.”
“It hardly seems sporting given the rest of us are armed only with bows or crossbows,” I said.
“Oh please.” Queen Leila snorted. “If you were feeling particularly motivated, you could kill someone with a toothpick.”
“Queen Leila,” the steward said in a voice that quivered with fear. “Perhaps we ought to ride on?” The steward lost some of her poise and looked distinctly sick with fear as she glanced at me.
“The toothpick would be unnecessary,” I said. “Nor would a gun.”
“Whatever!” The night mare started walking off on its own accord, but Queen Leila clung to the back of the saddle so she could shout to me, “I’m not the one who is an openly acknowledged assassin—talk about bad business practices!”
“Queen Leila,” the steward said in a tight, quiet voice. “You cannot speak like that to Lord Rigel.”
“I totally can! You just don’t want me to.” Our entertaining queen stuck her nose up in the air. When the night mare moved into a smooth-flowing trot, her body gracefully moved with him, even though she couldn’t possibly see anything like that.
Yes, she is quite amusing when she’s angry. Like a puffed-up kitten.
“It’s fascinating, but she doesn’t seem to fear you. I don’t know if that’s admirable or not, though. Even Queen Nyte knew enough to avoid you.” Dion glanced over at me. “You really enjoy winding her up, don’t you?”
I laid a hand on my mount’s shoulder when it pawed the ground. “She has entertaining reactions.”
Dion turned his horse in a circle. “That’s all?”
I shrugged. “I am attempting to provoke her to see if I can uncover her thought pattern—it would help me ascertain the Night Court’s future.”
“And?”
I watched the giant night mare disappear back around the bend they had come from. “If she has a pattern, it’s not one I understand.”
“What do you think that means for the Court?”
I paused—as amusing as the new queen was, my main concern would always be how she would upset our precarious balance.
She hasn’t found her place yet, but when she allows herself to act freely, she’s like a night mare—fierce and overwhelming. A queen like that leading a Court where a whisper can change the whole power structure?
I nudged my horse forward. “Nothing good.”
Chapter Sixteen
Leila
“Okay.” I rolled my shoulders back and planted my feet. “Try now.”
Comet flicked her extra thick tail, smacking some of the yellow dapples brushed into her coat, then charged.
I whispered to my charm bracelet, “Flore.”
When it flared to life, I spun magic through it, creating an iridescent purple-ish-blue ward on the ground. Once I finished the last thread, a magic shield flared to life, encircling me in a protective shell just before Comet reached the threshold.
The whole process took about ten seconds—I was improving.
“Yes!” I pumped my fist in the air, then dropped my shield. “I may not be able to do anything at all offensive-focused. But a year of practice like this, and I will make shields like a boss! Thanks, Comet.”
I kissed Comet’s scratchy muzzle and petted her, grimacing because her neck was still bony even though Dusk and Dawn had put the night mares on a high fat grain that was supposed to help them gain weight.
Comet flicked her ears and accepted my love—lipping my shoulder a little to communicate her own feelings.
“You’re too sweet! Thank you—thanks to all of you for the help!” I addressed my little night mare herd, who were all watching and taking turns when I needed someone to play the role of attacker.
My six night m
ares were present, as were a few of the more wild stragglers.
Their presence was incredibly reassuring in the eerie quiet of the Night Realm.
I shivered a little and glanced at the sky—which was the only beautiful part of the crumbling castle grounds.
“What do you think, Indigo?” I let go of Comet and turned to the brownie—my only non-equine companion at the moment.
Indigo was perched on a crumbling stone bench, her legs dangling, and her arms braced on the bench. “I think they love you,” she said.
“Aww, that’s cute!” I grinned at her, then spun around in the soft light of the night sky.
At the moment, the moon was full, giving me a better look at the castle than I had when I first came with the Paragon.
It must have been gorgeous at some point. While it had the structure of a true castle, most of it had been constructed with glass walls, built to overlook the now ruined gardens, and the giant lake beyond it.
“Hey, Indigo. Did they build the mansion where they did because the landscape reminded everyone of this place?” I asked.
“Maybe a little, but I don’t think it was a high priority,” Indigo said.
“What? Even though the mansion and the Night Realm both have lakes?” I peered out at the dark expanse—streaked with moonlight at the moment—that marked out the enormous lake.
Indigo hunched her shoulders. “Most assuredly the lake didn’t matter. The lake here in the Night Realm has been heavily avoided due to the pesky urban legend that a large sea monster lives in it.”
I gaped at her. “For real?”
She shrugged. “Rumor has it. No one has been too keen to test it.”
“Ugh, knowing the Night Realm it’s totally possible.” I peered in the direction of the lake again and shivered.
And with my luck, it’ll be a monster that hates humans. Guess I won’t be taking a dip in there anytime soon!
I loved animals, but swimming in the Night Realm in a lake rumored to have a monster? Yeah, that would be the definition of stupidity.
I leaned into Comet for comfort as I saw one of the pigeon-raccoon-griffins nest in a dead bush.
I wouldn’t normally choose to spend free time here, but when I told Skye and Chase I wanted to practice magic, Skye told me the Night Realm was an excellent place to do it—because no one would see me here since the fae had almost entirely vacated the realm.
I should get back to practicing—or go back to the mansion and get back to work.
“Why did you do it?” Indigo abruptly asked.
I scratched my side as I reviewed the last few minutes of my life. “Make the shield?”
“No.” Indigo stiffened her shoulders and her eyes were unusually wary as she adjusted her glasses. “Why did you shoot at Lady Chrysanthe?”
“Because she almost hurt you—I mean, she did succeed in hurting your pony. You’re one of my people, and I’m not going to let others harm you.”
“But you said you didn’t want our loyalty. What value was there in warning her off like that?”
I crossed the courtyard, joining her on the other side. “I said I didn’t expect your loyalty—I never said I didn’t want it.” I didn’t really know what to do with my hands, so I settled for propping them up on my hips—fae grace, hah! Why get that trait when I could have their sparkling personality?
“I don’t expect,” I continued, “because I’m half human, and the likelihood of anyone really swearing themselves to me is about nil.”
“But if you don’t expect loyalty, why did you do that? Is there something you are seeking in return?”
Aw crud, I forgot about the stupid fae balance/not wanting to be in someone’s debt, thing. I pulled my elastic ponytail holder, yanking out a wad of my hair with it. “Nah. Whether or not other people are loyal has nothing to do with my own loyalty.”
“But it doesn’t benefit you.” Indigo curled her small hands into such tight fists, they trembled.
“Sure it does,” I said. “I feel better about myself, and I don’t want to turn into a slimeball like Lady Chrysanthe or Lord Myron. I win all around.”
Indigo stared at me, something big but inexpressible in her eyes.
“Look, I’m a human,” I said.
“You’re half fae.”
“Maybe by blood, but in the way I was raised, I’m fully human.” I winked and gave her a cheesy grin, but she didn’t react. “Ahem. Anyway, I’m fully convinced that humans are one of the best races because of their great capacity to love. Sure, they can be just as awful as us supernaturals, but they’re open, and the vast majority of them will respond with love if you reach out first. I want to keep that aspect, because if I become cold and hard like the rest of the fae nobles, life will become unbearable in a totally different way. I’ll protect my people. No matter what—and without expecting anything in return, or thinking that you’ll be in my debt.”
Indigo was apparently unmoved by my little speech, and kept staring at me.
Nothing like pouring your heart out and getting silence back in return. Talk about awkward! I turned back to the night mares—Nebula was investigating the pigeon-raccoon-griffin, making it squawk this awful, chittery noise.
“Guess it’s time to get back to practice,” I said.
“I’m into human pop culture,” Indigo blurted out.
I rapidly blinked. “Sorry, what?”
Indigo yanked off today’s cable knit sweater—which was a charming red—revealing the t-shirt underneath, which was emblazoned with a Lord of the Rings slogan about hobbits and second-breakfast. “I love Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Disney, Star Wars, Doctor Who, all the Godzilla movies, superheroes—all of it. I wanted the salary of a companion because I really wanted the money to buy books, movies, and memorabilia. My family disapproves because they think all of that stuff is silly, unrealistic, or makes a mockery out of our community, but I love human entertainment culture!” She’d spoken so fast she was panting by the end of her explanation.
I could only watch in surprise and think how awesome it was that she managed to smuggle her geekdom into boring socials by wearing her unassuming sweaters.
“I haven’t told anyone outside my family because the fae look down on human culture. They hate it, actually,” Indigo said.
I gurgled a little. “You don’t say? I never would have guessed.”
“But I want you to know, because I’m loyal to you, my Sovereign.”
Huh, I haven’t heard that title before.
“I know you might not believe me, but I swear to follow you for the rest of my life.” Indigo hopped off the bench and planted her hand over her heart. “Whatever I can do to help you—whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.” She paused, then added, “And I’m sorry. For not believing in you, when you believed in me.”
I studied my companion, hardly daring to hope.
Could I really find a friend here? Someone that I don’t have to continually second guess?
Indigo started to bow.
“Nope, nope, nope—not that,” I said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You said you’d do whatever I want, right? Then no more of the bowing.”
Indigo tilted her head. “No bowing?”
“It makes me feel awkward, and I haven’t done anything to deserve it.” I hesitated, then added, “Besides—friends don’t bow to one another.” I held out my hand.
Indigo hesitated, then took my hand in her bone-crushing grasp and shook it with a firmness I envied. “Friends, then.”
“Thank you, Indigo. I really value your offer—what is it?”
Indigo had gone white as snow, and was staring at something behind me.
I swung around, and my heart dropped, flopped off my stomach, and skidded its way down to my left foot.
Standing at the edge of the courtyard, close to the night mares, were two different creatures.
One was wolf-like in form—except its head would hit me about at my waist,
and it was covered in black fur that was somehow simultaneously wet-looking, and blurry, as if the creature couldn’t come into focus. The creepiness of its form was only increased by its burning crimson eyes and its massive teeth.
The other animal was a giant cat. Like, we’re talking mountain-lion size. It looked really unhealthy because it was panting, and its red and gray fur was patchy, letting me see the gaunt lines of its body because it was just as skinny as a night mare. It also had yellow eyes—chances were both of these creatures were something Night Court exclusive, goodie—and teeth large enough to make my throat ache. Its enormous paws were accented with massive claws—which were spattered with red.
“What are those?” I whispered as Indigo and I slowly backed up.
“The wolf-like one is a shade. The cat is called a gloom.” Indigo jumped on top of the bench she’d been sitting on earlier. I scrambled to do the same—not like I thought the extra height was going to make much of a difference.
Both the gloom and the shade could pounce on us with those teeth and claws before we even started screaming.
“They’re creatures from the Night Court?”
“Yes. That’s why they have this appearance.”
My skin broke out in goosebumps as the gloom screamed—for real, it sounded like an injured goblin.
Shadows moved, and several more of the shades and glooms stalked out from behind the night mares.
I peered behind us, and was grateful for the dead hedge at our backs.
“Why are you scared?” Indigo hissed—apparently with this newfound loyalty her good manners were coming off, too. “You have natural magic to connect with animals!”
“Maybe, but I don’t make it a habit to try communing with animals that could kill me!”
“What are you talking about? You hang over the night mares like they’re sweet ponies!”
“Because they are sweet ponies—they’re coming this way!”
One of the glooms and one of the shades sauntered closer to us, crossing the courtyard, and stopping at the halfway point.
Several long moments passed, and my heart beat so rapidly I could hear my blood flow in my ears.
