Nudging Fate

by E. J. Russell

  Her eyes got even wider. “She wants you to change Fate?”

  Andy nodded. “She said that’s the only reason she chose Enchanted Occasions. Chose me to coordinate the event. Not because we’re the best. But because we’re expendable.” Maybe I could nudge the real prince’s fate. After all, it’s Con who hates Nils. If it keeps everyone safe….

  “Well, you know what? Screw her. Whatever the outcome is—we’ll prove that Enchanted Occasions is absolutely the best event planning company in or out of the Interstices.”

  “But if I don’t do what she wants… if the prince picks someone else…. Brooke, there might not be Enchanted Occasions anymore. She as much as said she’ll take it out on all of us—all of you.”

  Brooke stuck her nose in the air. “I don’t care. If I’m destined to end my days as a newt, at least I’ll be a newt who put on the event of the century. Now come on. We’ve got a boatload of work to do before this evening.”

  CON peered down into the garden from the windows in his—or should he say, Rey’s—suite. The Enchanted Occasions staff had been hard at work all afternoon. The arborist had coaxed the willow trees next to the fountain into twining their branches together to make a living throne for the Queen. The guests were giving it a wide berth, clustering near the tree line, as far from it as possible.

  “The hordes are gathering.”

  Rey strolled over, adjusting the collar of his tunic. “Looks like she’s got a smattering of every realm with any power. If your fellow is right and she intends to force the alliance with the dark elves, what’s the point?”

  “To prove that the contest was fair? That any treaties that come out of it aren’t to be questioned?”

  Rey snorted. “If you believe that, you’re more naive than I thought.”

  “Has she spoken with you yet?”

  “No. I don’t think she’s even here. She’s waiting to make her grand entrance after everyone’s gathered.”

  “That seems a little… I don’t know… risky. How does she know you’ll show up at the appropriate time?”

  “Because I always have.”

  Con raised an eyebrow at him. “You mean I always have. But she’s never witnessed me-as-you.”

  “No. But she has her spies. If I’d ever failed to keep one of the engagements she saw fit to saddle me with, she’d have known.”

  “Would she have punished you for it?”

  “Not me.” He nodded at Thomas, his leash now attached to the throne. “Father.”

  “Ah.” Con caught his breath as Andy bustled into view, escorting the dark elf clan leaders. Con had tried calling him on the infernal cell phone several times during the day, had sent messages with the housekeeping staff. But Andy didn’t answer, and the housekeeping staff stared at him with wide, scared eyes when they returned his notes unopened.

  Finally he’d sent Talus. But the Iron Knight hadn’t returned, and the ceremony was about to begin. Below, Andy was escorting the candidates to a place of honor next to the throne. Did he glance up here, just for an instant? Con was certain he saw the flash of those blue eyes, and his heart gave a sideways thump.

  Later. Let’s get this over with, and then I’ll make my peace with Andy. Anything else was unthinkable.

  He squeezed Rey’s shoulder. “Are you ready to become a real prince?”

  Rey grinned. “Absolutely. I have a reason for it now.”

  “To make Faerie at better place?”

  Rey didn’t answer, distracted by a message on his phone. He frowned, poking at the screen. “What? Oh. I suppose.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My…. Xiang. He can’t make it.” Rey tossed the phone onto the table and tugged his tunic straight. “No matter. Once I’m crowned, and once we’re mated, he’ll be able to prioritize better.”

  Con frowned. “You mean you’re expecting him to put you first?”

  “Of course. This whole shit-show is so we can be together. What’s the point of going through with it if we can’t be?”

  “That’s not the only reason for—”

  A fanfare sounded in the garden below, and the crowd all looked to a point below the suite’s windows. Gloriana paced into view, nodding graciously to the guests, the train of her green velvet gown spreading wide enough to break the stems of the white crocuses that lined the path.

  When she reached the willow throne, she turned, flinging the train behind her so that it flicked Thomas’s snout. Accidental? Con doubted it very much. Thomas backpedaled as far from her as he could get and huddled behind the candidates.

  Beside him, Rey took a deep breath. “As Xiang would say, showtime. Are you with me, brother?”

  Con nodded. “Always. Did you warn Gloriana I’d be your attendant?”

  “Why would I do that? It’s my choice. Let’s go.” He opened the french doors and stepped out onto the terrace, bowing low to his mother, then raising his hand in greeting to the guests. The muffled cheer in response wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement, but then, none of the guests looked happy to be there. Con expected that their invitations were more on the order of a royal decree.

  Con followed Rey down the staircase, keeping the required three paces behind as they trod the winding path that took them past representatives of each of the realms. He watched Rey’s back, more than a little disturbed by his attitude.

  Yes, it was monstrous of Gloriana to try to force her designs on her son—forever—but Rey seemed not to have anything in mind but his own desires, not even the preferences of the man he supposedly loved.

  Con tried to shake off his worries as the two of them marched past the Enchanted Occasions staff. All of them were standing under the dogwood tree except for Andy, who was behind the candidates, attempting to fend off Thomas, who was snuffling his hair.

  As Con headed down the last stretch of path, Andy looked up and met his eyes.

  And smiled.

  Con’s heart lifted into the trees, just as he and Rey reached the foot of the throne. If Andy was ready to forgive him, Con was ready to do whatever it took to make the relationship work. I’ll emigrate. Move Earthside. It would be far easier to build a life there than in Faerie, even assuming Andy wanted to give up his job and his Nine Worlds citizenship.

  There’d been nothing for Con in Faerie other than Rey and his infrequent glimpses of his mother for most of his life anyway. Now with Rey taking up other duties, and with a consort to fulfill the role of friend and confidant that had been Con’s in the past, Con would have no purpose at all.

  There’s Mother.

  But surely with Rey invested as prince, Con could arrange appropriate visitation. He’d like to introduce Andy to his mother. She’d like him, Con was sure. Who wouldn’t? Con gazed at Andy, at Thomas nudging his chest, and wanted to laugh from sheer joy. Even Thomas couldn’t resist him.

  Con forced himself to wrench his attention back to the ceremony. Rey and Gloriana had clearly finished the first part of the ritual, because Rey had turned to watch Talus approach, the coronation ring nestled on a velvet pillow in his outstretched hands.

  Talus halted in front of the throne, bowed low to the Queen, then turned to Rey.

  “Reyner of Maidencourt, with this ring, the rights, responsibilities, and authority of a true prince of Faerie will settle on your shoulders for eternity. Are you willing to take up this burden?”

  Rey straightened his shoulders. “I am.”

  “Then place this ring upon your finger.”

  Rey grinned, snatching the ring from the cushion. He met Con’s gaze, cast one contemptuous glance at Gloriana, and slipped the ring on the index finger of his right hand.

  His eyes widened, his mouth opened in a soundless scream. He reached for Con, his face contorted in agony.

  And dissolved into dust.

  Chapter Eighteen

  CHAOS. Pure, unadulterated chaos. Chef’s kitchen antics had nothing on the scene in the garden: candidates shrieking, the crowd shouting, and the wyvern—who had bee
n sniffing Andy in a very disconcerting manner—threw back his head and bellowed.

  Con fell to his knees next to the pile of dust that had been his half brother moments ago, his face contorted by grief. “Rey. Goddess, no. Rey!”

  Only two people didn’t look totally gobsmacked—Talus, who simply knelt and retrieved the ring, shaking bits of the former prince—ewww—off it. And Gloriana, who sat motionless on the throne that Forrest had pleaded with the trees to make in such a hurry, a satisfied half smile on her lips.

  As if this was what she’d wanted all along.

  Andy tried to corral the candidates, signaling the security trolls to keep the crowds back, to keep anyone from scattering the prince across the garden. It didn’t help that the wyvern—Thomas—was trampling this way and that, straining at his leash, attempting to get to the pile of princely dust.

  Andy’s stomach was tied in a knot worthy of a giant tree spider’s web. The prince disintegrated. On my watch. Was this his fault? Did Gloriana know that Andy hadn’t altered Rey’s fate? But maybe if he had, if he’d just looked, just peeked, he could have seen this disaster coming. But no. He’d been so occupied with his own feelings that he hadn’t done his freaking job.

  He hadn’t kept the client safe.

  “Your attention please.” Talus’s voice rose above the hubbub like a clarion trumpet. Nobody paid any attention, so he banged on his chest like a steel drum. “You will be silent and stay back, or suffer the consequences.”

  That did it. Everyone settled, although Thomas rustled his wings in agitation and keened low in his throat. Oh right. The poor guy has just seen his son reduced to dust.

  Andy knew he should be more upset about Rey personally, but he couldn’t be. Not on Rey’s own account. He’d barely even met the man, and whatever had caused the coronation ring to malfunction was going to make Andy’s life extremely complicated for the foreseeable future. No, he couldn’t feel bad for Rey. But his heart went out to poor Con, kneeling next to the Rey-dust with tears running down his cheeks.

  Andy craned his neck, trying to see over the delegation from Svartalfheim, who were annoyingly large—and largely annoying. He actually heard one of them snicker, the jerk. If he could rally Brooke and Forrest, the three of them could shepherd the crowd into the reception room until Smith could gate them all back to their realms.

  Once everyone was out of the way, he’d go to Con. Offer comfort and support—and what was almost more important, although Con might not realize it yet—practical assistance for collecting Rey’s remains.

  Andy eased past the dark elves, despite their dirty looks in his direction, but before he could go any farther, Talus raised his voice again.

  “Hear ye, hear ye. Reyner of Maidencourt has proven himself unworthy of reigning as prince in Faerie. The ring will now choose the next candidate.”

  Whispers flowed through the crowd like a wave, as if the guests were thrilled by the drama regardless of the personal tragedy involved. Con looked wretched. Gloriana just looked peeved.

  “Talus,” she said. “There is no other candidate. The coronation ceremony is at an end.”

  “No, Your Majesty, it is not. The coronation ritual has begun, and it will not end until all candidates have been tried and one has been accepted or all have been rejected.”

  “Nonsense. Only one person had the proper bloodline, and he lies at your feet, naught but sweepings.”

  “The ring is older than the prince, older than you, older than Faerie itself. Its magic will be gainsaid at your own peril.”

  Gloriana scowled. “Very well. But be quick about it.”

  Talus looked down at Con, who still kneeled, shoulders slumped, next to his brother’s remains. “Your Highness. If you would please stand.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Con said.

  “You are the nearest fae and must face the trial. The title is yours until you’re proved unworthy.”

  Thomas trumpeted in distress again, but Gloriana chuckled, low and mean. What…? Talus couldn’t mean to offer the ring to Con?

  Panic seized Andy by the throat. Con couldn’t—he knew he wasn’t the real prince. Talus knew. The Queen knew, and by the evil smile that she didn’t bother to hide, she didn’t care. Apparently Andy and Thomas-the-wyvern were the only two people that cared that Con—kind, funny, responsible Con—was about to join his brother as gods-damned garden mulch.

  Andy rushed forward, ignoring the affronted gazes of the dark elves as he pushed by them. “Con, no. You can’t.”

  Con stood, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Talus is right, love. I have no choice. Once the ritual is begun, it has to play out.” Con glanced at the contingent from Faerie, who were all looking rather appalled and as if they needed to find the nearest exist, stat. “Every fae present is in danger, so if you could—” He jerked his head toward the exit. “Perhaps begin discreetly escorting them out, it will minimize their risk.”

  Talus drew himself up. “That is not keeping to the true spirit of the ritual.”

  “I know. But isn’t the whole purpose of this event to bring Faerie into the modern world? If the ritual finds no worthy prince, the ring will disintegrate too, and one more outdated practice will be relegated to the past. Surely you can turn a blind eye this once, Talus? As a last gift to me?”

  Sobs threatened to choke him, but Andy fought them down. If this was the last time he would ever speak to Con, he had to let him know that Con was everything. Andy signaled to Brooke, who, along with Forrest, immediately began shepherding the fae toward the exits. She tapped her earpiece, and Andy vaguely heard her arranging the Intergate hops with Smith, but his job was the least of his worries now.

  Under Gloriana’s amused and the dark elves’ derisive gazes, he moved toward Con, carefully skirting the dust-that-had-been-Rey. He vaguely noticed that Thomas was at his heels until he reached the end of his lead and huddled in the grass, whining pitifully.

  Con closed the distance between them, taking Andy’s hand and drawing him to the side until they were both in reach of Thomas, who butted Con with his head.

  Con kissed Andy’s forehead. “One moment, love.” He released Andy and took Thomas’s massive head between his hands, resting his forehead against Thomas’s brow ridge. “Take care, Father. If you can, visit Mother on the full moon. I’m sure someone will tell her what happened, but she’ll be lonely. If she sees you, maybe she won’t miss me so much.”

  A single crystal tear the size of Andy’s fist rolled down Thomas’s scaly cheek. Con smiled and straightened, resting his palm on Thomas’s crest for an instant before turning to Andy.

  “Andy, love, I’m sorry—”

  “No.” Andy wrapped his arms around Con’s waist. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. What you did—well, I should have realized you had a reason for it. The man I’ve gotten to know is someone worthy. Worthy of trust, worthy of love, worthy of everything.”

  Con smiled crookedly. “Ah, now you’re making this harder than it should be.”

  A sob tore out of Andy, despite his efforts. “I wish you didn’t—” He stopped himself, pressing his lips together before he voiced the fateful words. If Andy had been angry over Con’s deception, what would Con think about Andy nudging Fate to cheat the ritual? Especially if it meant more people would die?

  So he released Con’s waist and cupped his face instead, drawing him down for a kiss, soft and warm and bittersweet. The last kiss Andy would ever have, because he couldn’t believe he’d ever meet anyone like Con again.

  “I love you,” Andy said. “I wi—I’m sorry we didn’t have more time.”

  “As am I, love. You’re everything I could ever want. Be well. Be happy.”

  Con kissed Andy on both eyes and the forehead again before drawing away and turning to Talus. “I’m ready.”

  Talus held out the ring. “Conall of Odstone, with this ring, the rights, responsibilities, and authority of a true prince of Faerie will settle on your shoulders for eternity. Are
you willing to take up this burden?”

  “I am.”

  Andy held his breath, chest heaving with buried sobs, as Con took the ring. He held Andy’s gaze and slipped it on his finger, just as Rey had done.

  But instead of dissolving, Con gasped and… and glowed as a sudden wind swept through the garden, scattering dogwood petals and flinging the robes of men and women alike—although Rey’s remains were untouched.

  Con’s inner glow faded as the wind died away.

  Talus bent his knee and bowed his head. “Your Highness.” He stood, raising his hands. “All hail Conall of Odstone,” he trumpeted, “the one true prince of Faerie.”

  And all hell broke loose. Again.

  CON’S ears rang, and his vision whited out, then burst with color. Heat bloomed from his belly through his chest, and he could have sworn it took the top of his head off too. Is this what disintegrating feels like?

  But he could wiggle his toes, flex his fingers, draw breath into his lungs. He was clearly still in his body, although his body felt… different. Larger? No, not larger, but as if it contained… more.

  As his senses slowly returned, he became aware of shouting and movement around him, of Gloriana towering over the chaos with her red hair whipping about her head as if she were standing in the center of a vortex.

  He shifted his stance, so none of the people who were rushing about, shoving one another, clearly one spark away from a riot, would scatter Rey’s dust.

  The ring on his finger glowed—both the gold band and the ruby. It would be a ruby. But as Con looked, as the glow died, the stone darkened, shading to purple and then midnight blue. A sapphire. He tugged it, but it didn’t move. He had a suspicion that it was fused to his flesh, although it wasn’t uncomfortable. More as if it was a part of his finger.

  Holy shite. I’m the fecking prince. He’d never imagined that. But there was a new feeling, a golden glow just below his heart, and he somehow knew that he could call on that spot to do far more than his standard fae magic. This must be the new power Rey was talking about.