by Keith Walter
“You are too kind, Regent,” Barclay started out, trying to regain his composure. “As always, I am in your debt. I do regret to inform you that the Ulsimore docks have been destroyed, though I personally assure you that none of your shipments will be found by the Union.”
The regent just smiled. “Such things can be replaced easily with money. Knowing that you understand what is truly important just reaffirms my belief in you. You are aware, I would hope, that it was I who had Ulsimore seek you out.” Barclay barely had time to think of the true meaning behind the words when the giant man passed him over.
“Oh, my word,” the giant began. He reached out a sausage-sized finger to tip Grace’s chin up. “Deference is for the rabble,” he soothed, tilting his head toward the others onboard and offering a wink. “Our kind need not stand on ceremony.”
Grace fought the urge to look away. The nonchalant air of the giant was meant to be disarming. But the coiled magic she felt once he stepped on board, a power both hot and dense, made him feel dangerous.
The regent hid his true strength expertly, and had he not stepped fully onboard, she probably would never have been able to pierce the veil to see it. This man, this fey, was not like Barclay, a born leader who worked his way to the top. He was not like Talmer, bred into high society and indoctrinated in manners and rituals. No, this was a noble, in the fullest sense of the word. He had the power to bring cities to their knees, and knew it. This man was like her mother, friendly when it suited, and perfectly assured of his superiority.
She met his gaze, silently claiming her birthright in his eyes. She knew he was testing her, just as her mother had, and hid the disgust she felt at his playful smirk. “Then let us not,” she proclaimed. “I am Grace of the Windrunner clan.” She relaxed her posture and broke eye contact. Waving her hand to one side, she introduced the rest. “These are my companions: Charles, Serin, Leslie, and Talmer. You are already familiar with Barclay.”
The giant’s eyes never left her face. He smiled wide, and his chest trembled as if to giggle, though no such sound escaped his lips. “It is such a wonderful pleasure to meet you at last, young Grace,” he replied, ignoring the other fey on board. “What of the rest of your companions?”
Grace frowned, then kicked herself mentally for giving herself away. After all these years, she found herself unable to forget the lessons of her mother, of how to deal with men of influence and power. “The converts, of course,” Grace stated. Never ask a question that may reveal your ignorance, her mother had drilled; it was better to give away something unimportant then let your opponent know they have the advantage over you. Grace waved a hand. “Barclay.” By deferring an answer, she could prove they were below her concern.
“We thought they would be unsightly for your presence, your excellency,” Barclay added, eyes again cast to the deck below.
The regent flicked his gaze upon the old sailor, his eyes glowing with dim white light. Barclay immediately raised his mental walls, hoping the great fey hadn’t caught any stray thoughts. The regent stared, the glow of his eyes brightening before fading completely. He leaned back and bellowed out laughter. He calmed himself quickly before clapping a hand to Barclay’s newly healed shoulder. “Well done, young man. I nearly had you.”
“Thank you, Regent,” Barclay replied gratefully, bowing in acceptance of the compliment.
“Ah, I told you there’s no need to be so stiff,” the regent added. “But you were right, my home is no place for the converted.” With a single stride, he moved to stand in front of the remaining fey.
“Let’s take a look, then, and see what you’ve brought me.” One by one, the giant leaned forward to get a better look at each face that was stiffly avoiding eye contact. His eyes glowed briefly with each inspection, and smiled when each passed his little test. “Such adorable young things,” he announced after attempting to peruse Talmer’s mind. “Not a peep from any of them. I am inclined to think they come from fine stock.”
Talmer had been breathless from the moment the regent stepped onboard. He couldn’t feel the depths of the giant’s strength, but he could tell immediately from the calculated pleasantries and fearless closeness that this man was nobility. The Regent of Wolfe Island was well known in every social circle. His island was a haven for the elite of the elite, a paradise of decadence and luxury. In all his years, Talmer’s father had never been invited to the table of the regent, no matter how hard he’d tried. And now, here Talmer stood, in the presence of a fey his father idolized but had never met.
The feeling of satisfaction was so great he nearly forgot his failures in the kitchen. When the regent graced them all with such a compliment to their breeding, he couldn’t stop himself from speaking up. “Oh, great and glorious Regent, your words are too kind. I, Talmer, eighth son of Taldric Volgerett, praise your gracious…” Like an untied balloon, the air in his lungs rushed out against his will. His lungs deflated and, in a panic, he realized he could not breathe. His eyes searched frantically, finding the regent staring hard at Grace and Barclay, the palm of his great hand holding Talmer’s breath.
“My dears,” the regent addressed Barclay and Grace, “I understand you find yourselves travelling with young and inexperienced fey.” His expression softened. “I, myself, have never had the pleasure of raising children, but I know how difficult it is to teach them proper manners. Please know that I will not hold you personally responsible for this one addressing me out of turn.”
Barclay said nothing, merely nodding in demure acceptance. Grace looked to Talmer, whose lips were already turning blue. She realized the regent intended to suck every molecule of oxygen out of the man for this slight. Gathering her courage, she leaned on the lessons of her mother. Taking a quick step forward, she brought her hand to the giant’s outstretched palm. She wrapped her fingers around just one of his and pulled it down, breaking his spell at the same time.
“That is gracious of you,” she began, meeting the giant’s stern expression head on. “However, his behavior still reflects upon me. It is I who must dispense punishment.”
The regent broke contact with Grace to see young Talmer fall to his knees and gasp for air. The boy had the presence of mind to keep his head bent low and try to muffle the noise of his gasps. When he returned to Grace, the regent found a startlingly familiar expression brokering no dissent. He smiled. “I had wondered, when she sent you to your room, if you would discover the lesson. I know she had concerns. But I see now those concerns were unfounded.”
Grace relaxed every muscle in her face, blanking any emotion from getting out. “You know my mother.”
“Oh—” the giant laughed jovially “—it’s nearly impossible not to, in my business. One cannot operate in Union waters without her approval. We’ve managed a mutually beneficial arrangement for many years now. She is ever hungry, after all.”
Grace had to fight down her gag reflex, realizing what the regent must have offered. And knowing her mother, it was an ongoing payment. “My mother and I do not always see eye to eye, but she is wise,” Grace admitted regally.
“So the two of you are still at odds,” the regent stated whimsically. Grace said nothing, which was enough of a reply. “Such a pity. And here I had hoped to throw a great feast for the both of you. It is so rare that the great Entregon and her beautiful daughter grace my shores,” the regent declared politely.
Heat rose to Grace’s cheeks. Despite the situation, every eye besides the regent’s snapped to stare, wide and shocked. Serin gaped, opening and closing her mouth wildly as hurt bubbled to the surface. Barclay slapped his hand against his thigh, grabbing attention enough to give a stoic shake of his head. He pointed aggressively at Talmer, who remained on his hands and knees. Whatever outcry they had, now wasn’t the time to express it.
“Oh, deary dear,” the regent added apologetically, though his eyes remained amused, “they didn’t know. Please, you must accept my apology. I understand that family business should remain in the family.”
Sighing dramatically, the regent waved his fingers in thought. “I suppose if you are still at odds, that may complicate our business today.” Turning to the attendants waiting patiently on the dock, the regent ordered, “Fetch me the Alter Key, my guests will need to remain hidden.” The farthest attendant spun and shot inland immediately. Nodding at his own plan, the regent addressed Grace. “I will provide a small pocket fold for this fine form to reside while we talk.”
“I appreciate your hospitality,” Grace replied.
The regent smiled wide. “I have a feeling this is going to be very lucrative. Now,” he announced suddenly, “I have acted in good faith and trust. I expect you will do the same.” He began marching back to the dock as he spoke. “I will prepare for your arrival at the palace, sparing no expense, of course. If you have preparations of your own, please make them in a timely manner.”
“Wait,” Grace cried out, just as the giant had reached the end of her deck. She had accepted him on the ship, a tacit agreement to peaceful negotiations. But the regent had boarded alone, both a sign of his own confidence and trust that Grace would not engage in violence. By meeting her alone, he had set a precedent for her to meet him the same.
“I wish to bring my companions with me,” she demanded more than requested. She didn’t know this noble, didn’t know what he wanted, and even if Barclay could fill her in, she just didn’t trust herself to get them all out of this safely.
The regent turned, brows furrowed and the growing feeling of a storm building behind his eyes. “That is most unusual,” he declared.
Grace tried to think quickly. “Your home is a wonder of the fey world. I think it would be a great shame if my companions came all this way and could not at least see it with their own eyes.” She caught the beginning of a smile on the giant’s face and continued, “Not to mention, they have stories you may find amusing.”
The giant raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “Your mother told you I collect stories,” the regent stated, just as Grace, refusing to ask a question out of ignorance. “Very well, then, Grace. I accept your request—on one condition.”
“What is your condition?” Grace asked firmly. The giant inclined his head toward Talmer, whose bowed head and near-fetal posture displayed his fear. Grace realized the regent wanted to see the punishment she had promised. “Very well,” she acquiesced. Waving a hand toward the dark-haired man, a spiraling pattern of runes spread out from under Talmer. They stopped, forming a circle just wide enough to surround the man. Suddenly, the deck within the circle split like opening jaws. Talmer fell inside an impenetrable blackness and the jaws slammed shut above.
Talmer’s magical signature disappeared completely, and the giant smiled. Nodding one last time, the regent left the ship and once again slowly walked to his carriage. The line of attendants fell back two by two and followed the carriage as it road around a bend farther inland.
Grace stared after the regent, trying to track his progress. She took a few steps toward the rail when she lost him, and shook her head as she realized he was simply too far away now. She braced herself as she turned around, not surprised to find the four fey on board staring at her with slack jaws and varying levels of shock, anger, and disgust.
No one seemed willing to break the silence until Charles find spoke up in a detached, almost robotic voice. “Holy shit.”
“I’m sorry,” Grace whispered. “I was going to tell you.”
“When?” Serin shouted. “After your mom had eaten us and just given you a slap on the wrist?”
“No! I would never—” Grace started.
Serin cut her off. “You don’t think this would have been important to know yesterday when we were making plans? You’re talking to us about family, but lying to our faces.”
“I never lied to you,” Grace offered apologetically.
“No?” Serin huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Call it what you like, but you kept this from us on purpose. How many times did we talk about the Entregon, or even your mother. How hard would it have been to let us in on that little connection?”
“I…” Grace tried to find words. “I know it was wrong, but I didn’t want you to think—”
“That you might be just like her?” Serin finished the thought herself. Her eyes began to glow red with anger. “And how do we know you’re not?”
“That’s not fair,” Leslie contradicted her bond softly. She placed her hand on the shorter woman’s shoulder soothingly. “She’s never given us any reason—”
“Until now, you mean!” Serin shouted, shrugging off the warm hand. She pointed aggressively at Grace while staring into her lover’s eyes. “How do we know that’s the only thing she’s hiding. You saw the way she acted with the regent, like we were pets that just happened to stow away. It’s just like every damn noble, like every stupid clan head who thinks they get to decide what kind of person matters and what kind doesn’t.”
“Serin,” Leslie practically sighed. She knew now this outburst was far more personal than Grace’s lie of omission would call for. Leslie had come from a hard-working family: gardeners, landscapers, and at the higher end, home designers. Anything built with soil and stem was their forte. But Serin was different, the prodigy daughter of a clan held in such high esteem that they, besides the difference in magical prowess, were practically nobility. Despite her combative nature, Serin would probably never get over the pain of being kicked out of that clan over such a petty dispute. Leslie grabbed the shorter woman with both hands and physically pulled her into a hug.
“I never wanted to make you feel that way,” Grace added. “Please believe me. I have never thought of any of you as lesser, for any reason.”
Serin had grown still, paralyzed between her anger and giving in to Leslie’s embrace. With a sneer, she retorted, “Tell that to Talmer. He was a jackass, but he didn’t deserve to die for it. But I suppose eating people isn’t that big a deal to the daughter of a demon.” Grace was shocked into silence, wetness pooling and dripping from her eyes.
Charles couldn’t stand it anymore, crying out, “Shut up!” He was slightly started by his own outburst, but collected himself quickly. “You’re angry, and I get that. I am upset, too. But you don’t know a damn thing about what you’re saying.”
“So that’s how it is?” Serin stated, steering her gaze to Charles. “Going to side with the killer because you’ve got the hots for her?”
The point was accurate, but Charles scoffed anyway. “You think you’re so damn righteous. You didn’t have this backbone when the regent was killing Talmer himself, did you? No, because it didn’t offend your sensitivity so much that you would put yourself in danger. But you’ll sit here and shit-talk Grace because you know that she’s not going to kick your ass for it.”
“She wouldn’t have to,” Serin spat back. “She could just swallow me up.”
“Maybe she should, you ungrateful child,” Charles offered seriously. “Every moment you’ve stayed alive the last twenty-four hours has been because of her.” Taking a step to the side, Charles slung an arm around Grace’s shoulder in solidarity. “Even this very moment, you’re only standing here because Grace was able to leverage her stature with the regent. Are you so blinded that you can’t see the regent really doesn’t give a shit about any of us? You think he wouldn’t have locked us up and sold us back to the Union, or killed us himself and collected a reward, if it weren’t for Grace?”
In a moment of clarity, Charles remembered just how young this fey was, the bits and pieces he’d picked up about her background. “You said yourself that you come from a high-class clan, but it’s clear you’ve never actually met a noble. You’re quick to judge them because of what the Union does, but it’s clear you’re upset about something more personal.”
“Don’t patronize me, old man,” Serin replied, though the previous confidence in her voice wavered. “I know enough to see how people with power treat those without it.”
“Enough!” Bar
clay’s voice boomed. Four pairs of eyes turned to the captain, who had remained curiously separate from the argument. The old fey’s eyes were locked on the deck, deep in thought. His arms were crossed over his chest tightly, creating a barrier against outside influence. “Grace did what she had to do with Talmer. She tried to spare him. If she hadn’t done as the regent requested, it would have been a declaration of war. It was either him or all of us.” Seeing Serin’s gritted teeth, he added, “That doesn’t mean I like what she did.” He addressed Grace directly. “You should have told us about your mother. I probably should have figured it out, what with all the oddly specialized talents you showed, but you should have told us. Now, and especially after what just happened to Talmer, you’re gonna have to forgive me if I have a hard time trusting you.”
Grace bowed her head, causing tears to splash down on the deck. She dropped to her knees, crying out, “I’m not my mother!” The cry triggered a spiraling set of runes to erupt on the deck, exactly where Talmer had disappeared. Once again they formed a circle, which Serin and Leslie jumped away from in horror. The circle split like jaws, and a slobbering mess of a man rose from the darkness below. He was curled into a ball, whimpering and shaking. Grace crawled over to the man and placed a hand on the top of his head. “Talmer, please forgive me, are you alright?”
The ball of a man stilled at Grace’s words. Slowly, Talmer’s head eased out from under his arms, turned to the voice. He was a wreck, tears staining his cheeks, snot and saliva not yet crusting around his mouth. His eyes focused as he realized he was no longer in the dark with no dimensions. His gaze flickered from Grace to the others and his eyes widened in shock realizing the state he was in. He scrambled to his feet, turning away from the gathered fey. When Grace reach up, still kneeling on the ground, to touch his elbow, he pulled away harshly. “You knew,” he hissed. “I shared with you my shame, and yet still…”
