Con sighed. “I know. But I thought this time would be different.”
“What do you imagine would cause him to change so fundamentally?” Talus’s voice reverberated in his metal chest with an edge that meant he was slipping back into his old implacable mindset. “Men do not alter their natures so easily.”
“Careful, my friend. It’s not your job to dispense justice anymore.”
The sound Talus made would have been a snort if it had come from a flesh-and-blood person. “I cannot change my nature completely either.”
“Noted. However, you really need to restrain yourself. Not everyone here is subject to Gloriana’s rule.”
“You forget, Highness, that I am not subject to her rule either.”
“Please don’t call me Highness. I’m not the prince.”
“You wear his guise, and I would be remiss in my duty if I did not so address you.”
“Yes, but—” A harsh shrieking interrupted Con. “What’s that?”
Talus tilted his head in listening mode. “A firedrake in distress? The death throes of a cockatrice?”
Con glanced around. On the table, a flat rectangle about the size of his palm glowed and vibrated—cell phone, that’s what the event official said. “Nothing so normal. I believe we have a—what did she say?—an incoming call.”
Con strode over to the table, Talus clanking behind him, and peered down at the tiny screen. “What do you suppose we do? I’ve heard of these, but I’ve never used one.”
“Perhaps you acknowledge it, as you would someone at the door.” Talus brought his fist to his chest with a hollow boom. “Greetings.”
The phone continued to beep and vibrate its way across the polished surface of the table. “That doesn’t seem to have worked.” Con peered at the screen, which displayed two large dots, one red and one green. He pointed to the green dot. “Perhaps if we—” The beeping stopped as soon as his finger touched the screen.
“Con? Are you there?” Rey’s voice sounded far away.
“Yes, I’m here,” Con shouted. “Where in blazes are you?”
Rey’s laugh sounded tinnier than Talus’s. “Pick up the phone, you nimrod, and hold it to your ear.”
Con winced. He hadn’t bothered to study the information Enchanted Occasions provided on the Earthside paraphernalia because he didn’t expect to have to use it. He was just a bystander, after all, not a participant.
He picked up the phone and held it gingerly against the side of his head. “Rey. Where are you? You’re due to be presented to your first prospective mate in less than twenty minutes.”
“About that.” Rey’s tone was both cajoling and apologetic, one that Con had come to know well—and dread—over the years.
“Shite, Rey, I cannot stand in for you at your bloody wedding.”
“No. Of course I wouldn’t ask that of you. But you’re a better judge of potential consorts than I am, and certainly better than my mother is.” This time, Con couldn’t mistake the bitterness in Rey’s voice.
“You can’t mean that. Surely you want to be here to pick someone you can be happy with.”
“That’s not likely, in any case. I didn’t pick the candidates. She did, and you can wager anything you like that she has an ulterior motive for every choice. None of them are there because she thinks they’d make me happy. They’re there because each and every one represents a political advantage for her.”
“But—”
“You may still hold illusions about her affection for me, but trust me, I haven’t been fooled since I was knee-high to a flower fairy—and furthermore, you haven’t either, if you’re honest with yourself.”
“I admit, she’s a Queen before she’s a mother.”
“She’s a Queen who never intended to be a mother, but your mother’s spell bolloxed that up for her.”
Con winced. “I’m sorry—”
“Stow it, Con. It wasn’t your fault, not your birth and not mine. If it was anyone’s, it was our father, thinking he could have his consort and lover too.”
“I suppose.”
“I’m right. You know I’m right. But could you please tell me, because I haven’t got a clue—what’s the point in my coronation at all? She never intends to abdicate. She’s fecking immortal. And we have no idea whether I am or not.”
“Rey—”
“Have you looked at the mating vows? Magically enforced fidelity. For eternity.” He laughed without a trace of mirth. “If that’s what I’ve got to look forward to, I’d prefer not being immortal.”
“Obviously she wants to ensure that what happened to her never happens to you. Don’t you think that proves she’s got your best interests at heart?”
“How? Shackling me in a political marriage with no way out, even if the political reasons cease to exist? That doesn’t sound like the action of a devoted parent to me. I wonder….” Rey swallowed audibly. “I wonder what our father would have done. If he’d have loved me—us—more than she ever has.”
“There’s no point in thinking of that.”
“Don’t I know it. She’ll never release him. He’ll be collared and leashed, forced to grovel at her feet for eternity, one more victim of her quest for total control. The only reason she’s staging this whole farce is because she’s losing some of that control. The human world has changed too much, and the Faerie Queen doesn’t hold any power there anymore.”
“Be that as it may—”
“Please, Con. Give me this one last taste of freedom, this one last chance to enjoy myself before I’m chained as tightly as our father.”
How could he refuse? Con might not have any status in Faerie, but at least he didn’t have the burden of expectations that Rey did. “All right. As long as you’re here for the coronation.”
“Don’t worry.”
“Since you’re acquainted with the candidate pool, can you tell me who you prefer?”
“They’re all the same to me.” Rey snorted. “We all have history. That’s one of the reasons I don’t need to face them. See how they behave with you and pick the one who acts the least like an arsehole.”
Clearly Rey’s opinion of love was even lower than Con’s. “All right. But where are you? You can’t be in Faerie, or you wouldn’t be able to use the… the cell phone.”
Rey’s chuckle was wicked this time. “Not Faerie, my brother, but someplace equally magical. Las Vegas.”
Chapter Three
ANDY gave Nils a good two minutes’ head start so they wouldn’t run into each other in the hallway, then followed. He tapped his earpiece twice for Brooke’s private channel. “All sorted. Has the prince been escorted to his suite?”
“Yes.” Brooke sounded breathless. “But—”
“I’m on my way to the candidates’ lounge now to give ’em the pep talk and escort the first one to tonight’s dinner.” Who was it again? Andy had had this memorized before the unfortunate encounter with Nils. “It’s Kjersti, right? The other dark elf.”
“Andy—”
“Nils should be in his suite by now. He’s probably already sent for the valet to repair the water damage to his boots.” Andy couldn’t help a chuckle. “Strike that. He’s a dark elf. He probably brought six pairs with him, but will still demand a new pair anyway and try to stiff us for replacements he doesn’t even need.”
“He’s in his quarters, yes. Andy, will you—”
“He can stay there and sulk for a while.” Andy zoomed around a corner, nearly running into a brownie carrying a massive stack of linens. “Oops! Sorry!” He caught the towels before they could topple to the floor and settled them into the brownie’s arms before sprinting on his way. “Maybe by the time it’s his turn with the prince, he’ll have realized that pursuing a random hookup when he’s supposed to be convincing the prince of his suitability as a mate is a monumentally stupid move.” Andy skittered on down the hallway. “What am I saying? We’re talking about a dark elf. None of them ever waste a minute on self-reflection or self-
recrimination, because that would be admitting that someone else in the world is entitled to an opinion.”
“Andy, there’s something you need to—”
“What we need to do is to make sure the entertainment for the other candidates is in place so they’ll keep out of trouble while the prince has his first date. If we have another unsanctioned incursion like tonight’s, we’ll never be able to stage another event here. Is the band ready?”
“Yes, but—”
“What about the dancers?”
“Yes. But—”
“The bartender? The waitstaff? The fire extinguishers?” Andy raced down the final hallway, the double doors leading to the candidates’ lounge finally in view.
“Yes, yes, and yes, but it doesn’t matter, Andy.”
“What? Of course it does. Because, hello, ifrit? They flame harder than fire demons.” He paused for half a second to catch his breath and smooth the front of his Enchanted Occasions blazer before donning his professional smile and throwing open the doors.
To a completely empty room.
“Brooke. There’s nobody here.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Brooke stalked in from the antechamber.
“Well, no matter. We only need Kjersti right now. The rest of them can straggle in here at their leisure.” He checked his watch. “Yikes, fashionably late is not going to cut it. But if we hurry, we’ll only be slightly behind schedule. I’ll fetch her and take her along—”
“Andy, it won’t do any good.” The hoops and jeweled studs in the webbing between her fingers flashed as she waved her hands in front of his face. Most half undines tried to minimize their watermarks, the undine trait that marked them as “other.” Not in-your-face Brooke.
“Why not?”
“She’s got food poisoning.”
Andy’s belly clenched in alarm. “What? How? Never mind, I’ll deal with it later. We’ll move the next one up, have Chef alter the menu. That’s the ifrit, so—”
“Nope. Food poisoning.”
“But—”
“All of them, Andy. They’ve all got food poisoning.”
Andy felt all the blood draining out of his head until he was surprised it wasn’t pooling around his feet. “They can’t all have food poisoning. They don’t even eat the same things.” He sank into a velvet armchair. “Was it the buffet? Oh please say it wasn’t the buffet. We can’t have another buffet-related disaster. We’ll never survive it.” Mikos would kill him. No, Mikos wouldn’t, but Enchanted Occasions was a haven for so many aitchers, most of them with nowhere else to go—or at least nowhere that they wanted to go. Only Enchanted Occasions gave them this level of respect, this sense of pride and accomplishment.
Odin’s beard, this event was supposed to repair their reputation, not destroy it completely. What supernatural realm would trust them now if they’d managed to poison representatives from every freaking one of them at once?
“Andy. Focus.” Brooke gripped his arms. “I don’t think it could have been the food anyway because none of them have made it out of their rooms. Maybe it’s dislocation sickness. Not all Pures can handle the Interstices.”
“No, this lot have all translocated before. I checked their paperwork myself. Besides, their first shot of adaptation elixir was on ice on their bedside tables, and their minibars are stocked with enough for the entire week.”
Brooke wrapped her arms across her stomach, her face faintly green—but then, that was normal for her. “This is bad, Andy. Really bad. If the Faerie Queen finds out we couldn’t manage the very first event—”
“Let’s not think about that.”
She glared at him. “Somebody has to think about it. All those candidates currently hugging high-end porcelain are the V-est of VIPs.”
“I think you mean the I-est.”
“Whatever. We’ll never get another referral out of this. We’ll be stuck doing Earthside weddings and bar mitzvahs and office parties for eternity, and that means I’ll never get out of the back room. You can pass for human, and so can Mikos and Forrest and even Smith, as long as he wears a hat, but there’s no way that I can.”
“It won’t come to that. If we can figure out what went wrong, we can fix it before anyone knows. All we need is one ambulatory, non-puking candidate for tonight’s dinner. Surely someone will be recovered enough tomorrow to go on the next date.” He snapped his fingers. “Nils. He was fine, or mostly fine ten minutes ago. As much as I hate to give him any perks, I’ll—”
“Too late.” Johan, one of the light elves, sauntered in from the hallway. “Your charming guests may not eat the same things, but they’ve all imbibed the same thing—and Nils imbibed twice, at your instigation, I believe. Tsk tsk.”
He flourished one of the tiny crystal glasses of adaptation elixir, angling it toward the candlelight so the ruby liquid inside glowed like a beating heart. He raised it to his lips, his gaze locked with Andy’s, but instead of drinking, he flung the contents into the nearest orchid pot. The flower immediately drooped, then withered, then blackened.
Andy’s vision clouded and he clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. I can’t nudge the ceiling to fall on his head, because that would be bad. Very bad. But so, so satisfying. “You poisoned the elixir? All of it?”
“All but mine, of course. Let’s dispense with this ridiculous charade, shall we? It’s quite obvious Reyner will choose me anyway.”
“That’s not the point,” Andy forced out between clenched teeth. “It was in the contracts you signed, acknowledging the rules of the competition, agreeing that every candidate would have equal time to convince the prince of their suitability. To woo him.”
“Woo him?” Johan laughed harshly. “This is Reyner of Maidencourt. His notion of wooing is an extra shot of fire mead before the first fuck.” Johann frowned at his fingers, then yanked the embroidered linen runner from under the dead orchid, wiped his hands with it, and tossed it on the floor. “Any road, Reyner and I have history. His decision is a foregone conclusion.”
History or not, you signed the fricking contract. But if Andy let his emotions get out of control, and twined Johan’s fate with, say, the knives from the buffet, Andy would be stuck hauling mud and water to Yggdrasil from now until Ragnarok.
With one last self-satisfied smirk, Johan swaggered back into the hallway. “Maybe you should try a little of that elixir too. You pathetic aitchers may not need it, but far better to be vomiting on your shoes than admit you’re incapable of… of….” Johan’s eyes widened and his face turned as green as Brooke’s.
“Neptune’s balls,” Brooke muttered. “He’s going to—”
And he did. All over his own boots. His pants. His shirt. And a large swath of the marble tiles.
Brooke wrinkled her nose at the stench. “Lucky he missed the carpet.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Andy muttered. A little emergency nudge from him and the fate of the carpet—not a person—was to remain pristine forever.
Johan’s chest heaved again. He grabbed a vase off the hall table and upended it, adding lilies, roses, and water to the mess on the tiles—although it stopped an inch from the carpet’s edge of course. Holding the vase in front of him, he bolted down the hall, retching all the way.
Andy sighed. “The poor vases are certainly getting a workout tonight. Forrest may never forgive me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well—” An ominous clanking approached from the corridor. Andy shared a panic-stricken look with Brooke. “Is that—”
“Yes. Talus.” She gulped. “He’s kinda scary.”
“Argh!” Andy fisted his hands in his hair. “He’s here to escort the candidate to the prince, and we don’t have a freaking candidate to spare.”
Brooke turned to him, a light in her silver eyes that never boded well. “I’ve got an idea. If we—”
Before she could finish, Talus, the legendary Iron Knight, clanked into view.
“Greetings.” Talus placed his fist on his chest with a faint thunk and bowed.
“Um… hi.” Wow. Way to be articulate. But Talus was a legend.
Talus glanced at the mess on the floor. Andy instinctively reached for his earpiece to call for cleanup, but Brooke caught his wrist and smiled brightly.
“I’m so sorry for the mess, Sir Talus. I’ve called for someone to clear it away immediately.”
“It is I who must apologize to you, Lady Brooke. When I heard that miscreant boast of his deed, I visited punishment upon him, as is my duty.”
Andy shared a sidelong glance with Brooke. “You mean you made him toss his cookies?”
Talus’s forehead wrinkled, making a sound like crumpled tinfoil. “I did not perceive him flinging any foodstuffs. I merely visited the same malady on him that he had wished upon you.”
“That was….” Andy shared a wide-eyed glance with Brooke. “Very… um… chivalrous of you. But maybe a little extreme?”
“In the days of Arthur, when I quested with Sir Artegall, I would have beheaded him.”
Okay, now that would have been extreme. But without Johan, they truly had zero candidates on deck. Andy cleared his throat, ready to take responsibility and whatever retribution Talus decided was warranted for breaking the Enchanted Occasions contract.
He was half norn, after all. He was used to taking the blame.
Before he could get a word out, though, Brooke gripped his biceps and squeezed. Hard.
“Sir Talus, may I present the first candidate for Prince Reyner’s hand—Anders Skuldsson.”
Andy’s mouth dropped open, but he was unable to force anything out other than, “Unnggh?”
She angled herself, so her back was toward Talus. “Stop that,” she whispered. “You look like a codfish.”
Nudging Fate Page 2
