“Me too.” She realized that wasn’t quite right. “I mean, I’m glad to be here. To meet you. Knowing that somebody out there cares, that I wasn’t rejected—it’s every adopted child’s dream.”
“Never that, dear one. Your parents wanted you so desperately and I’ve spent the last thirty years searching. You were never, ever rejected.” Aidan radiated such sincerity that Meagan choked up.
“Thanks,” she replied thickly. “That—means a lot.”
Way more than she could begin to express.
“How much has Ric told you about your heritage?”
“Bits and pieces. There’s so much. I’m not sure he even knows where to begin and I’m too overwhelmed to know what to ask,” she admitted. “I can’t quite get past the whole elf, magical, Lady Rose part. It doesn’t seem real.”
“Understandable. Anything I can do to help, anything you’d like to ask, know that I’m here for you.”
“How old are you?” she blurted. “Ric said he didn’t know, that it wasn’t considered polite to ask, but it’s driving me crazy.”
“Polite doesn’t matter among family. I was born in the year 895, I think. We don’t always measure time the same way and the mortal calendar has shifted a bit in the interim. I’m a bit over eleven hundred years old.”
“How old was my father?”
“Younger than I. Emery was under a thousand when he died. Far too young by elven standards.”
“I still don’t really know what happened to him and why I was hidden. Were my parents criminals, or something?” That was one of the things she’d been worrying about since the notion had occurred to her in the shower this morning. “Is it illegal for one of your people to hook up with a human?”
“No, nothing like that.” He was quick to assuage that particular concern. “But there are those who frown on it, especially since your father was a lord and any child he produced would one day head one of our noble houses. The Fae have their social and political activists like any race and one of the groups is focused on the idea of racial purity, especially among the ruling class.”
That she understood. “Sort of like the Nazis.”
Aidan nodded, his lips drawn thin, his expression grave. “A great deal like them, I’m afraid. They believe that interacting with mortals dilutes our culture and that mating with mortals dilutes our bloodline. Sometimes one of these activists goes further than speeches at council and resorts to murder. I’m fairly certain that Emery was the target of such an assassin; there had been an uprising of anti-mortal sentiment that year. It explains why he used the last of his energy to hide you from his killer.”
“But you knew I was alive, somewhere.” Ric had explained that, though she hadn’t really gotten the whole story. Her hand drifted to her chest, unconsciously touching her birthmark through the thin material of her shirt. “Something about my birthmark.”
“That’s correct. Each of our noble houses has a mark that appears on the skin of the heir only after the passing of his or her predecessor.” He rolled up the sleeve of his crisp white dress shirt to reveal his left wrist. Right above the black leather strap of his Movado watch, she saw a dark green spot that she would have taken for a tattoo.
She looked closely. About the size of a thimble, the mark was an intricately drawn oak leaf.
“My mother had the same mark—the Green Oak indicator. It always appears on the current ruler of my house. Seconds after my mother died, it appeared on my arm. The family Rose mark, the one my cousin had, is a pink rose that lies above the heart.” His features tightened.
“Ric assures me that you carry it. If you hadn’t survived, it would have appeared on the next in line and believe me, he would have wasted no time claiming the title.”
“So that must mean I have at least one more relative,” she reasoned, her head cocking sideways. “Whoever would have been the next heir, right?”
“Don’t get your hopes up, my dear,” Aidan warned.
“There are other distant relatives living and of course I’ll make a point of introducing you to all of them, but none were close to your father. As for your heir presumptive, he is not likely to welcome you with open arms. Diarmud is one of the elven purists and I’ve always suspected he had a hand in Emery’s murder. You’ll need to be extremely careful around him.”
Meagan set down her bagel, her mouth gone suddenly dry. “It just doesn’t make sense. Until yesterday I didn’t even know that elves existed, let alone that I was partly one. How can I be a political player when I don’t even know the rules, the history, the sides? Why on Earth would anyone in your world care what I think or do?”
“You’re a player because you have a hereditary seat on the Seelie Council and an important vote is scheduled to take place in two days.” He rubbed his eyes. “Didn’t Ric explain any of this?”
She shook her head and Aidan made a noise that in a less sophisticated man might have been taken for a snarl.
“What the hell have you two been doing the whole time?”
He paused, shook his head and held up a hand. “Never mind, I know, but I don’t really want to hear about it.” A snifter filled with a dark amber liquid appeared next to his hand. It looked like the cognac from last night, but this time instead of a sip, Aidan took a long pull. “Did he at least mention Owain le Faire?”
“Yes, though he told me his name was Ferris.”
“Owen Ferris is his current alias. We all adopt locally appropriate names when we’re traveling in the mortal realm. His elven name is Owain and he’s called le Faire for his pale coloring. Surnames are a relatively modern invention; you’ll want to pay attention to that when you go to court. By our tradition, your name is Meagan, Lady Rose, not Meagan Rose Kelly.”
“And I should refer to you as Lord Green Oak, not Mr.
Greene.”
“That’s right, but you’re always welcome to call me Aidan. I’ve been Oakley Green, A. Daniel Oakland and a dozen other variations in the last few centuries. We have to change personas every generation or so to blend in and to disguise our lifespan.”
She opened her mouth to ask about Ric, but Aidan forestalled her before she could say a word. “Ask him yourself. Right now we have more important things to discuss, like the Seelie Council.” Great. Aidan could read her mind, too, like Ric. She wondered if she’d develop that power in time.
Aidan went on. “Right now, you are the only thing that stands between Owain and the elven throne.”
“Huh?” Ric hadn’t exactly gone into detail on that part.
Aidan ran his hand through his hair, leaving one piece sticking up straight. He took another swallow of his drink and Meagan sat up straight, trying even harder to pay attention and follow his explanation.
“Our government is called the Seelie Court and the governing body is known as the Seelie Council. The council is made up of the heads of the twenty-one noble houses, similar to England’s House of Lords. The monarch is elected from among the council, but once elected, usually serves for life, or until they choose to step down. Llyris Astrella has been queen for over a thousand years and despite being a cold, ruthless bitch, she’s done a reasonably good job. She’s also more than a bit powerhungry, so she’s in no hurry to relinquish the crown.”
Meagan nodded her understanding.
“If a sufficient number of council members call for a vote, Llyris becomes subject to recall. Owain has, through bribery and blackmail, gotten enough signatures to force an election. He has also, according to the queen, gathered enough supporters to win the vote. And if Owain le Faire becomes the new elven king, things will get very bad, very quickly. Early in her reign, Llyris negotiated a treaty with the mortal leaders, pledging that the Fae would never try to take control of their realm. Owain is rabidly antihuman and seeks to revoke that agreement. His goal, we believe, is to either destroy or enslave all of the inhabitants of the mortal realm.”
“You have got to be kidding!” This was the stuff of every late-night B movie sh
e’d ever seen. Maybe someone had slipped her a mickey in the club the other night and everything since had been some sort of druginduced dream.
“It’s no dream, Meagan. Unfortunately it’s all too real. The way the council is structured, the queen may only vote in the event of a tie. With your seat empty, the vote will be nine to ten, in Owain’s favor. Your vote for Llyris would create the tie, allowing the queen to cast the deciding ballot. That is why the bard was ordered to find you, to produce you for the council meeting. Diarmud of Rose is one of Owain’s supporters. If the House of Rose falls to him, Llyris will be dethroned and the treaty overturned. If that happens, the fate of both races could hang in the balance.”
Ric was stalling. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was. He’d long since finished any useful errands he’d had to run. Meagan’s home was well and truly warded against intruders, except for Jase, who Meagan was going to ask to water the plants and take in the mail. Ric had hoped to find Jase in his apartment over Meagan’s garage, but the man had obviously not been home since the night before.
Ric had also stopped by a drug store and made the purchases he’d promised. Several boxes in fact. On a whim he’d also picked up a dozen coral-colored roses. He wanted to give Meagan something to show how much last night had meant to him. He couldn’t believe he’d been so rash as to take her without protection—several times.
In the centuries he’d lived, of course Ric had thought about siring children. He’d spent a great deal of time thinking about why he wasn’t going to and how to insure that he didn’t. There was no place in his life for a mate or a child. Llyris had made that abundantly clear.
He drove back to Aidan’s cautiously, checking with both eyes and magic to be sure he wasn’t followed. Owain wouldn’t give up without a fight, of that much Ric was certain.
He found Meagan in Aidan’s office, looking shellshocked but determined.
“I want to meet them, Aidan.” Her tiny foot tapped the floor in a staccato beat. “Now. Before I get whisked off to who-knows-where for who-knows-how-long.”
“I thought you understood that it isn’t safe,” Aidan argued. Ric lounged against the doorframe. Obviously the two had been going at it for a while and Aidan had underestimated Meagan’s hard-headedness. A soft smile curved his lips as he watched.
“You and Ric will keep me safe.” Ric felt a thrill at her staunch confidence in his abilities, even while he shook his head.
Aidan looked up at Ric, raking a hand through his hair.
“You talk some sense into her. She’s decided she has to meet her grandparents before she leaves for court.”
“Ric!” Meagan’s smile was blinding as she spun around to see him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
He shouldn’t have missed her so much, not when he’d been gone such a short time. It took everything he had in him not to sweep her into his arms and kiss the daylights out of her, but he settled for catching the hand she held out and dropping a quick peck on her wrist. If they were heading to court today, he had to learn to keep his hands to himself and she was going to have to learn to hide her response to his presence.
“You need to work on your listening skills, love.” He wrestled his hormones under control. “You’ll be at a huge disadvantage at court if you can’t hear them coming.”
She grimaced. “I know. The senses this morning have been pretty weird. Most of the time I can handle the brighter colors, the sharper smells, but once in a while, something will catch me off guard and everything spins for a second.”
“You’ll get the hang of it, never fear,” he assured her.
“So you’ve decided to meet Linda’s parents, have you?”
“Well, duh!” Her snort left no doubt as to her opinion of his question. “If either of you had bothered to mention yesterday that I had grandparents still living, we’d have had this conversation already. I told you that both of my parents were older when they adopted me. I’ve never had grandparents before and I’m not going anywhere till I get to meet them.”
“They’ll be over the moon, you know,” Ric mused to Aidan. “When I spoke with them last week, they made me promise I’d keep them informed.”
“You’ve met them too?” Her eyes narrowed and the foot resumed its tapping. “Explain!”
Ric hated to deny her, but Aidan was right on this one. “When the queen sent me here, I had Aidan introduce me to the Jamesons. I’d hoped that if I got to know them, I might be more likely to recognize you if I found you. But that was well before Owain knew I was here. I’m sorry, love, but I think your cousin has the right of it this time. If Owain finds them, he could use them as leverage against you.”
Her face fell; she understood.
“I promise, as soon as everything is sorted out, I’ll personally take you to meet them.”
“Fair enough.” There was resignation in the sigh she heaved. “But it isn’t at all fair that you got to meet them and I didn’t. What were they like?”
“Nice people. Frank Jameson is a retired pipe-fitter and Ruth taught first grade for many years. Your mother was the youngest of three, so they do have other grandchildren and I believe, great-grandchildren. But they never gave up hope that one day you’d be found.”
“I have aunts, uncles and more cousins, too.” Her smile was dreamy. “And they’re here, in Detroit?”
“Windsor, actually,” Aidan replied. “Apparently when Linda went into hiding, she didn’t stray far, but she did have the good sense to muddy the waters by crossing the international border.”
“I keep getting the feeling that she knew she was going to die.” Meagan sighed. Ric and Aidan exchanged a look.
Who was going to tell her this part?
“She probably did,” Aidan finally admitted, with a glare at Ric. “It’s a ritual called life-bonding. Once their life forces were tied together, neither could survive without the other for long. Her pregnancy would have been the only reason she survived as long as she did.”
“O-o-o-kay.” Meagan’s brow furrowed and she gave her curls a shake. She looked like she was thinking about that topic a lot harder than Ric really wanted her to, so he decided it was time to change the subject.
“We can get back to that later. Right now I have another idea I wanted to discuss. I think Meagan should take the painting I bought and present it to Llyris as a gift when she arrives at court.”
“But that’s yours,” Meagan demurred. “You paid for it and everything!”
Aidan was nodding thoughtfully. “Yes, but Her Majesty really likes presents,” he agreed. “Artistic talent is highly valued among the Fae. The fact that your paintings represent the faerie realm will make them even more popular, especially among those who spend time here and will enjoy the reminders of home.”
“But that one belongs to Ric,” she insisted, eyes narrowed, chin thrust out. The foot started tapping again and Ric knew he was sunk. “If you want one for Llyris, we’ll get her a different one. It’s not like I don’t have plenty of others.”
“I can go back to your house, collect whichever one you’d like me to bring.”
“Can’t you—you know?” She snapped her fingers in the air. “Poof it here?”
He squeezed his eyes together. More explanations.
“Not really. It’s not always a perfect translation. Molecular rearrangement, or something. It’s fine for coffee, or clothing, but not so good for works of art.
There’s a reason I never blink my guitars.”
“Or electronics,” Aidan added. “My MP3 player never worked quite right again after the first time Fianna tried it.”
“Well, if we’re going out, we might as well pick up one from the gallery instead of my house. Those are already framed and matted and everything. That should make an even better gift.”
They tried, of course, to talk her out of it. Tried to tell her it was dangerous, that Ric could handle the errand alone. Meagan stood her ground and a few minutes later they all stood to leave.
&nbs
p; “The djinn representatives are going to be most displeased, my lord.” Fianna sat stiffly beside her desk, her lips pursed when Aidan stopped to tell her he was leaving. Ric rolled his eyes at Meagan, as if to say that he’d enjoy watching Aidan take her down a peg.
“The djinn representatives understand the mechanics of deal-making,” Aidan replied. “But they have been patient. Move my meeting with them up an hour and start clearing the rest of the guests out. I want to be able to break free and be Underhill by five.” He smiled at Meagan. “I want to see the queen’s face when you hand her that painting.”
Fianna shot a disgusted glare at Meagan before replying primly. “As you wish, my lord.”
“It’s Mister Greene, Fianna,” Aidan shook his head ruefully as he walked Ric and Meagan to the door. “She’s a fantastic secretary, but it’s going to take years to train her to behave in this realm,” he grumbled.
Chapter Ten
Elise Sutton wasn’t what Ric had been expecting.
That the gallery owner was on-site on a Sunday afternoon was surprising but not as surprising as realizing that Meagan’s friend and patron was a part-blood herself, and unless Ric missed his guess, also a very powerful witch.
Elise’s dark eyes narrowed as she studied Ric, much as she might examine a particularly repulsive piece of art brought to her attention. He saw the spark of recognition when she realized what he was. Then Elise’s attention turned back to Meagan and her jaw dropped. All her veneer of sophistication was lost for a brief but telling moment. Elise hadn’t had any idea that Meagan was half-
Fae. Now she did.
“Elise, I’d like you to meet Ric Thornhill. Ric, Elise is the genius who figured out how to sell my work.”
“Delighted.” Ric held out a hand and waited to see if she’d take it. Swallowing hard, she did, for about half a second, but she didn’t look any too pleased.
“I’m going to be out of town for a few days,” Meagan told her friend. “Contact Jase if you need anything, I guess.”
Motor City Fae Page 12
