by K. M. Shea
Skye smothered any potential outbreaks of ugly behavior, while Lord Linus’s high spirits and tendency to float around with smiles and winks made his good humor infectious. (That, and he seemed to enjoy shocking his fellow fae with his skills. He wasn’t nearly as good as Chase, but he was decent enough. Apparently he’d played mini golf while traveling.)
But. The natural downsides of having Lord Linus around were still at play.
“An admirable shot, Lord Linus.” A fae lord gave him a nod of respect.
“Thank you, thank you.” Lord Linus winked at a young fae lady—the fae lord’s daughter. “Let’s just say I was inspired by the beauty surrounding me.”
The fae lady laughed and tapped her club on the ground.
I sipped my coffee I’d bought from King’s Court Café on the way to the golf course and tried not to barf.
Sure, Lord Linus looked in his mid-thirties, but he was my biological father, and the fae lady appeared to be just a little bit older than me!
While the fae lady stepped up with her pink golf ball, Lord Linus edged closer to her father.
“This event has been quite amusing,” he said. “And so unpredictable as to who will actually finish with the required low score.”
“Indeed—though I do fear what will happen if the other Courts hear of it. It will sink our reputation even lower than it already is,” the fae lord said.
“Maybe, maybe. But in the meantime, we ought to enjoy ourselves. Shall we make a wager?” He jostled the fae lord with his elbow, but I had heard enough.
And that’s it.
Intent on blocking the irresponsible lord’s mischief, I sidled away from where Chase was giving a fae lady a few pointers on the next-door hole, and stepped up to Lord Linus. “Good evening, Sir, Lady. Lord Linus, I am sure someone needs you.”
“But I—”
I wedged my clutch into my armpit and grasped his elbow and tugged him away. “What was that? You’d love to help? How perfect!”
Lord Linus groaned like an inconvenienced teenager as I dragged him off. We climbed the slight hill to the highest part of the golf course, where the giant statue of a giraffe—three-legged, because I’d rented a classy place—was situated.
I released him and retrieved my clutch from my armpit. “What have I told you, Lord Linus?”
“No gambling.” He’d recovered his spirits and was grinning at me. “But isn’t it the spirit of the event?”
“No,” I firmly said. “No one gambles over mini golf.”
“No one you know,” Lord Linus said. “You don’t know the right sort of people.”
I stared at him. “You’re probably right. And you know, you’d have a lot of time to hang out with them if you suddenly became unemployed!”
Lord Linus laughed. “You did inherit your mother’s spirit. Very well, I shall bow to your wishes and keep my fingers clean tonight. Ta!”
He was off before I could stop him, waltzing off like a social butterfly to laugh and gossip with anyone that looked at him.
He makes me exhausted. I adjusted my sunglasses with a deep sigh. Why do I get the feeling this is how a parent feels when trying to raise children?
I took a swig of my coffee for fortification. Even though I was now much better fed—because it turned out not only was Indigo an excellent cook, she made awesome dishes inspired by human pop culture, like lasagna inspired by the Garfield comics and shawarma from a superhero movie—I still lacked coffee because she refused to make it. Even worse, she told me it was sacrilegious to drink it since I was a fae and fae drink tea.
I turned in a circle, looking for Chase. He had been adamant in the pre-event briefing session that I stay near him given events of the past two Court socials.
I wasn’t going to argue—I didn’t feel like getting poisoned or shot at—but he was difficult to find in such a crowd.
I hope we haven’t filled the place past the fire safety code.
Something behind me creaked, and I turned around to see the giraffe statue tipping over…in my direction.
I swear everything moved in slow motion.
The statue sliced mercilessly through the air, and although my brain screamed at me to run, it took my legs a few precious seconds to respond.
I ran, but I could tell I was too late. The thing was going to land on top of me.
I was wearing my charm bracelet, and almost automatically I activated it and spun wild magic through it, throwing up a shield in record time.
I automatically raised a hand—as if I could catch the statue—but there was a massive thump, and it never even touched my shield.
Chase had caught it at the shoulders. The muscles in his arms were bulging with effort, and his lips were peeled back in a wolf-like snarl as he struggled to hold it.
“The queen!” Lord Dion shouted. He cleared the top step and rushed to help Chase.
Realizing I was gaping at them like an idiot, I ran down the paved walkway, getting out of range—though I kept my shield up.
Once I was clear Chase—with the help of Lord Dion, and guards who had quickly convened on us—let the statue fall to the ground with a thump I felt in my feet.
“Leila!” Indigo came hustling up the walkway, pushing past whispering fae lords and ladies.
I held up my hand—thankfully everyone was far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to see it shaking—and forced a smile. “I’m fine,” I announced to my Court. “But it seems the tally for broken things grows. I’m not going to get my security deposit back because of you all,” I teased.
A few fae laughed nervously, but mostly they stared at me. I’m not sure if it was with disappointment that I hadn’t been squashed or just general apathy.
“Leila.”
Grateful for the distraction, I turned to Lord Linus, who was coming up a different pathway with Skye.
“It’s fine,” I said in a lowered voice.
“It’s not fine,” Skye firmly said. “Someone just made an attempt on your life!”
Lord Linus didn’t even say anything. He just rubbed at his mouth and walked in a tight loop.
“You’re right, but no one was up here with me,” I said. “I turned in a circle while I was looking for Chase. I was alone. I have no idea how they pulled it off.”
“It was set up to look accidental, that’s for sure,” Indigo said.
“Queen Leila,” Chase called.
I picked my way to the werewolf, jumping over small shrubs and walking through the landscaping since he was crouched by the fallen giraffe’s feet.
He pointed to the metal plates that were fitted around the giraffe’s three surviving feet. “Someone removed—and in some places cut—the bolts that secured it to the ground. It looks like a golf ball hit—there I think—loosening the plates enough so it tipped a little, then naturally fell in the direction of its missing leg.”
I was going to ask how he knew a ball had hit it, but when he pointed to the spot on its neck it was pretty obvious—the golf ball had burned through the statue’s paint.
I edged around the statue and touched the bald spot. “Feels like magic. Fae magic.” I flicked my fingers, trying to get rid of the sticky feeling.
“Smells like it, too,” Chase confirmed.
Lord Linus crouched down. “I don’t get it. Leila is queen—they shouldn’t be able to hurt her like this.”
“If they can make it into an accidental death, it seems the magic won’t stop it,” Skye said. “Given the experience at the restaurant.”
“The amount of work it takes to set something like that up is incredibly difficult, though, and they shouldn’t be able to pull it off with this frequency,” Lord Linus argued.
“Maybe we’re looking at this wrong?” Indigo asked.
“I don’t see how.” I tapped my chin in thought. “I’m pretty clearly the target.” I paused and looked at my free hand.
Why is it empty?
I glanced at my other hand, holding my clutch, and slapped my thigh.
“No!”
“Queen Leila?” Skye quizzically asked as Chase took a phone call.
I ran around the giraffe, stopping with heartbreak when I saw my travel mug tipped over with my precious coffee splattered on the ground. “My coffee.”
Skye heaved a sigh with relief, then started patting her pockets—probably in search of her tin of antacids.
Indigo shook her head in disgust. “Serves you right for partaking in that sacrilegious drink!”
“You’re just ignorant,” I said. “Your eyes haven’t been opened to the glories of coffee.”
“I’m fine with that,” Indigo said. “In fact, I’d prefer they stay shut.”
Lord Linus had been glancing out at the Court, and seemed tuned out of Indigo’s and my play fight. He ended it by awkwardly patting me on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re safe, pumpkin. But it’s getting crowded up here, and I see a lord I owe—er, I should mingle.” He winked, then glided off.
“Pumpkin?” I snarled at his retreating back.
He waved, and I was half tempted to pick up my fallen travel mug and pitch it at his head, but Chase forestalled me.
“The man I set up at the security cameras called.” He returned his cellphone to the holster on his pants belt—a very dad-ish gesture of his.
I whistled in appreciation. “Whoa—you had someone stationed there? You’re thorough.”
I’m so glad I hired Chase instead of a wizard. He’s worth his weight and his wolf form’s weight in gold!
“The camera caught the ball that hit it. He was able to trace it back to the hole where it was putted,” Chase continued.
I straightened in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes.” Chase’s voice turned grim. “The fae who hit it was with Lady Chrysanthe’s group.”
I leaned back on my heels. “Ahhh. Why does that not surprise me?”
“My men are taking the fae aside for questioning,” Chase said. “You should head back to the mansion.”
“Nope,” I said. “Not going.”
Chase rubbed the back of his neck. “And why won’t you?”
“You don’t have to put a brave front on,” Indigo said. “You said you wanted to break the way the Court operates.”
“I do,” I acknowledged. “But this is a lesson I’ve learned living on a farm. You don’t turn your back on an animal you can’t trust. I need to stay.”
Chase sighed. “Very well. But you’re going to have guards stand with you while I talk to the fae.”
“Sounds good. Thanks, Chase.”
He nodded, then started barking orders at his men that were taking photos of the giraffe feet and sweeping the area.
Four of them split off, discreetly moving into place around me.
Skye eyed them, then bowed to me. “I’ll see what reconnaissance I can do.”
Indigo picked up my silver travel mug. “And I’ll get you another beverage—not coffee!” She shook my mug at me with such a fierce look I couldn’t help but crack a smile.
“Thank you, both of you,” I said.
Another shake of the travel mug and a bow, and they were off, leaving me alone with my guards.
I made a point of mingling around the top for a few minutes—I spoke to Lord Dion for a while, and some of his acquaintances—but around the time my Court’s interest had finally waned and they were returning to their games, I escaped out of the hot sun, and moved closer to the entrance shaded by trees—with my guards, of course.
I took my sunglasses out and fished my prism out of my purse, noting with disappointment that my can of bear mace wouldn’t have done much against the statue.
I pulled the bear mace out as well and was studying the bottle, when I felt something behind me.
I popped the lid off my can and had my finger on the spray part, when I realized I was staring into the unimpressed eyes of the Wraith.
My movement caught my guards’ attention, and they all turned inward, grappling with their weapons when they saw him.
My heart stuttered for a few beats, but I smiled at my guards. “It’s fine,” I told them. “Lord Rigel isn’t going to hurt me.”
I wonder how I know that.
I wouldn’t trust the fae to stand at my back, but somehow I instinctively knew he wasn’t standing here with the intention of killing me.
Probably because he would have already made his move by this point.
The guards exchanged uncertain looks, but I flapped a hand at them. “It’s fine—isn’t it, Lord Rigel?”
Lord Rigel stared at me for several long moments. “You have an interesting definition of ‘fine’,” he said.
I noticed it wasn’t the reassurance I asked for, but my guards did turn back to scanning the course—though they kept their weapons, all of them artifacts that glowed with magic they had gathered—out and ready.
I reluctantly capped my bear mace and stuck it back in my clutch. “What do you want?”
Rigel said nothing, he just stood next to me like a handsome statue.
I rolled my eyes and meandered up to the suspension bridge at the entrance, which crossed a little pond of water that looked about five inches deep, but the water color was questionable, so it was hard to judge.
Rigel followed behind me and even stood on the bridge with me as I peered over the side.
“Why did you arrange for the social to take place here?” he finally asked.
I pressed my prism to my heart. “I’m shocked.”
Rigel blinked.
“That may be the first non-antagonistic thing you’ve said to me! Wow, this is a special day.”
“Why?” Rigel repeated—which was about equivalent to yodeling out his insistence, for him.
“It’s a human thing,” I said.
“And?”
I was considering my reply, but Rigel beat me to my next thought. “You didn’t bring us here because you’re helplessly attached to human ways—though that might be what you’re attempting to lead the Court to believe.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Because you’re too purposeful to be that dream-addled,” Rigel said. He kept staring at me, which was a little unnerving.
I held onto the wooden railings of the bridge and tried to size him up. “Why do you care why I brought everyone here?”
“Because you’re the Queen of the Night Court,” Rigel said. “And I like to be aware of all the players in the game.”
I made an annoyed noise in the back of my throat. “You’re one of those ‘fae life is a game of power’ people?”
“All fae are one of those people,” Rigel said. “Have you witnessed anything that contradicts such a view?”
“No, but I think it’s precisely because you all share that view that the stupid game continues, and crushes more and more fae as part of it.”
Lord Rigel fell silent, which made me nervous. Worriedly, I glanced over at him.
His black eyes didn’t have the dead look to them, but they didn’t look bored, either. They looked…different. “You all,” he said.
“What?”
“You said you all. That implies you don’t share the belief, as does your original reaction.”
“Oh, I believe there’s a game all right,” I assured him.
“And?”
“And what?”
“What do you intend to do in it?”
I intend to crush it.
I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to blurt my plans out to Rigel, but I suspected he was not the fae I should trot out my ability to lie and use it on. “I don’t see why I have to tell you. In fact, you tried to kill me. Logically, I shouldn’t tell you.”
“It was just business—nothing personal,” Lord Rigel said.
“Yeah? Well I found it personal.” I glanced at our guards. One of them was openly staring at me with wide eyes, her warm olive complexion turning pale. The others were all doing better about pretending not to listen.
Several long moments passed, but I jumped to my
feet when a bubble of magic surrounded Rigel and myself. It took me a second to realize it was the same sound-proofing spell the Paragon had used.
Oh, heck no. He’s going to kill me in this silence zone. Not today! Nope!
Chapter Twenty-Three
Leila
I took a step toward the edge of the bubble, but Rigel stopped me in my tracks.
“I canceled the contract.”
I paused and turned around. “What?”
“I canceled the contract that hired me to kill you.”
“But…everyone told me you’ve never failed before.”
He shrugged. “Everyone also said there would never be anything less than a full-blooded fae on any Court’s throne.”
“Touché. Care to share who commissioned the hit?”
Rigel stared at me.
I shrugged. “I had to try!”
My guards had jerked to attention, but at Rigel’s announcement I smiled and waved to them to show I was okay.
The guards exchanged a few hand signals before one settled in to watch Rigel and me and the others went back to scanning the surroundings.
“I take it now you want me to tell you why I held the social here?” I guessed.
Fae aren’t known for their generosity. They expect equivalent exchange.
Lord Rigel fell back on his old goodie behavior and stared at me.
“I’m going to require a verbal answer for this one,” I drawled.
“I want to know how you intend to play this game of power.”
I snorted. “Buddy, have I got news for you—I am not telling you my entire strategy. That’s not worth knowing the contract was canceled!”
“It’s obvious you’re hoping to change the game,” Rigel ignored me and continued. “You held a social here—correctly assuming that the foreign setting would challenge the Court and shake them out of their usual behaviors.”
Huh. I would have thought he’d vastly underestimate me, not totally miss how little I actually care about how the Court feels.
“You have sold the sun stallions and brought in the night mares to disconcert the Court because it underlines how the night mares—a creature of the Night Court that symbolizes our power—have been neglected, and you have given the wild glooms and shades ridiculous names to accomplish the same as well.”
