The Exile: Book One of the Fae

by C. T. Adams

  Nick was taking his seat when Teo said it, and he felt a chill run up his spine at the old man’s words. So, they were prisoners—or if not, the next best thing. Still, he kept his expression pleasantly neutral, and his hand was steady as he reached for the knife to cut his steak.

  “Before King Leu took the throne Faerie was much more different from Earth than like it. He has chosen to change that.”

  “Why?” David asked.

  “I don’t know. He hasn’t chosen to tell me,” Teo admitted. “But it is very deliberate. And the king does nothing without reason. I once heard him tell the dragon, ‘If you can’t come up with three good reasons to do something, you probably shouldn’t do it.’”

  Nick chewed a bite of steak, savoring the taste. It was perfect, absolutely perfect. He followed it with a swallow of wine. Gathering his courage he looked the old man straight in the eyes. “Will we be allowed to leave here?”

  Teo met his gaze without flinching. “I know that it would make the king most happy should you choose to stay of your own volition.”

  “That’s not an answer,” Nick said coldly.

  “It is the truth,” Teo responded calmly. “Further truth is that, while I do not believe the king intends to hold the two of you here against your will, there are many others who do—if they can get away with it. The Ap Reigh Brianna is clever, and skilled, but she is only one woman. If you truly intend to go back you will need to be on your guard every moment. Faerie has always been a dangerous place for humans, and never more so than it is right now.”

  And those words, while honest, were all it took to ruin an otherwise perfectly good meal.

  * * *

  Nick could tell from the sunlight streaming through the east-facing windows that he’d woken early. It was time to do a little exploring. He desperately needed to use the facilities and shower. He stank. The drug the healer had given him had apparently knocked him out cold. At some point in the night his bandages had been removed. Without them he could see that the bruising had faded until his injuries looked days rather than hours old. He was able to move better than he had the previous night, as well. Crossing the room to the bath wasn’t painless, but it wasn’t the arduous process it had seemed the night before.

  He had climbed into the shower and was standing under the spray, letting the pounding of the hot water work on strained and weary muscles, when he heard a light tap on the door.

  He turned off the water and called out, “Who is it?”

  A male voice replied, “Saturnino, sir. I am the majordomo for the household. The king has asked me to inquire if you are well enough to join him and the lady Brianna downstairs on the patio for breakfast.”

  The king was inquiring. It wasn’t an order, but Nick would wager it was more than a casual invitation.

  “I’ll dress and come down as quickly as I can.”

  “I’m sure his majesty will be delighted to hear it.”

  Nick didn’t miss the touch of irony in the words, but the humor disappeared from the man’s next comment. “Maybelle will escort you and the others downstairs when you’re ready.”

  “Who’s Maybelle?” Nick stepped out onto the bath rug and began toweling himself dry with a plush sheet large enough to serve as a twin bedspread. It smelled pleasantly of herbs and fresh air, as though it had been hung to dry in a garden.

  “A winged faerie with green skin—she’s part pixie, very easy to recognize.”

  “Ah.” Nick wasn’t sure what else to say, so he left it at that.

  He was both surprised and pleased to find his clothing—clean, pressed, and neatly folded—sitting on the countertop beside a comb, a toothbrush and, oddly, a tube of his favorite toothpaste. No razor, though, which was unfortunate because his beard needed shaving at least once a day. Staring into the ornately framed mirror hanging on the wall, he saw a rough shadow of black stubble on the lower half of his face … and Technicolor bruises decorating his chest, stomach, and abdomen.

  Nick winced.

  Holy shit. A king. He was going to have breakfast with a freaking king. Whoa. He had no clue how he was supposed to behave. It wasn’t like he’d had any experience with royalty back home. He did know that the first impression he gave would be important.

  Checking his reflection in the mirror he winced. He looked like he’d been in a fight … which he had … and his clothes, though presentable, were casual. But there was nothing he could do about any of that. So he dressed as quickly as he could, ran the comb through his hair one last time, took a deep, steadying breath, and stepped out into the hall.

  In keeping with the rest of the palatial surroundings, the hall had tall ceilings with elaborate plasterwork, marble, and gilding, and was decorated with exquisite artwork and antiques. But all that beauty faded to nothing when he saw his guide.

  Even with the advance warning it was a bit of a shock. Maybelle was a fairy. Life-size and gorgeous, but still a creature from children’s books come to life—and completely naked. She stood five feet tall, her skin a green so pale it was almost white, shimmering in the sunlight streaming through a nearby window. Her hair was green, too, as if every hue from the pale green of new spring grass to the darkest shade of pine needles had been captured in the strands.

  Even more phenomenal were her wings. Delicate as lace, they rose from her shoulders in a graceful, iridescent arc. They weren’t made of feathers, or scales; instead, they looked as if they were formed of tiny individual crystals. They sparkled like sunlight on snow with each movement she made, scattering rainbows in her wake.

  For a long moment Nick was captivated by her unearthly beauty, her nudity and grace. Then the talisman—which he hadn’t even taken off in the shower—flared with a heat that made him gasp and close his eyes against the pain. When he reopened them, he was no longer dazzled. Maybelle was still lovely, but looking at her now he could see tiny flaws in her appearance that he hadn’t noticed before. Her teeth were a little too sharp, her nose just a little large for her face, her eyes a tiny bit small, the expression in them alarmingly predatory.

  She gave a small hiss of displeasure—which was quickly cut off as Pug and David stepped out of a nearby doorway.

  At a glance it was obvious the gargoyle didn’t like her, and from the malice in her gaze Nick could see the feeling was mutual.

  “Shall we go? The king awaits.” Maybelle’s voice was petulant and sulky, like a child denied a sweet.

  “By all means,” Pug rumbled. “Lead on.”

  She led, wings fluttering so that her feet barely skimmed the cool marble floor. Pug went next. David fell into step with Nick.

  “Are you wearing the talisman Bri gave you?” David whispered, so low that his brother could barely hear him. Nick nodded.

  “Good. You need to use it over everything you eat and drink, just to be sure.”

  “Huh?” Okay, that little bit of information was not going to make him any less nervous about this whole thing.

  Before David could say anything more, Maybelle called impatiently, “Please hurry. It’s not good to keep the king waiting.”

  “We’re coming,” David responded. “Nick is just moving a bit slowly because of his injuries.”

  It wasn’t entirely a lie. Nick wasn’t up to moving the way he normally did. If David didn’t want Maybelle knowing what they were talking about, Nick wasn’t going to enlighten her. So he played along, exaggerating his discomfort a little bit. It didn’t take much. He was better, but it did hurt to move, and this was a big house.

  Maybelle gave an exaggerated sigh, and crossed her arms beneath her breasts, one finger tapping impatiently against the flesh of her opposite arm. It was a gesture designed to draw attention to her chest. When Nick chose to ignore it, she hissed again.

  When the two humans finally caught up to the gargoyle and the fairy, Maybelle led them down a wide, curving staircase to the first floor, then across the covered walkway of the first-floor loggia into a pleasant, sunny courtyard.

 
Nick had to fight not to goggle at the sight in front of him. The courtyard was packed with … people, but not just people. There were pure Sidhe, looking almost human, but there were also others with hair and skin every color of the rainbow.

  They were dressed in human clothing, but oddly. A woman who was probably nine feet tall and built like a centerfold wore tan-and-brown-striped trousers with suspenders and a brown fedora—but without shirt or bra. A short, hairy creature with a thick beard and scraggly hair was clad only in a white man’s dress shirt. But his personal favorite was a male winged fairy no more than six inches tall wearing a silver bikini with a black beret.

  The same brown noseless creatures that had served dinner last night acted as servers wandering between groups of picnickers with trays of food along with mix of a few stone trolls and doxies, including their king. There were humans, too, though only a very few. Everywhere he looked there was something worth gawking at. But he stiffened his spine and kept his expression neutral. Damn it, he was not going to act like some hick on his first visit to the big city.

  Nick walked with the rest of his party. At a rough guess he estimated that nearly a hundred people were there, gathered in groups on what looked like picnic blankets. Clouds of what at first glance looked like brilliantly colored butterflies flitted about. A second look showed him that they had tiny, humanoid bodies—like Tinkerbell in a Disney movie. Sprites, they were sprites.

  “Try not to look at anybody directly if you can help it. It’ll make it easier to avoid getting shined on.” David spoke softly out of the corner of his mouth so that no one would notice.

  Right.

  A stone picnic table dominated the center of the courtyard. Four people were waiting there, including Brianna and another gorgeous woman, a redhead dressed in shorts and a tank top. Brianna was dressed a bit more formally than the others. She looked great in black jeans and a black bustier over a crimson silk top. Her hair had been pulled into a single long braid with black and crimson cords running through it. Thigh-high boots with crimson laces up the back completed the outfit. She looked dangerous as hell and hot. The last member of the party, a male, stood, tall and proud, his black hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, revealing chiseled features that were a more exotic male version of Brianna’s. To Nick’s surprise, the king—and there was no mistaking that this was the king, though he wore no crown—was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. The clothes should have been casual, but somehow weren’t.

  Maybelle stopped approximately ten feet from the table and in a smooth movement no mere human could have duplicated, she lowered herself until she lay face-first on the paving stones, her palms turned upward in supplication.

  Behind her, Pug and David both bowed. Nick joined in an instant later, gritting his teeth against the pain caused by bending over.

  Maybelle spoke, her voice pitched to carry to the crowd. “I have brought your guests as commanded, your majesty, fulfilling my duty.”

  “So I see.”

  Was that a hint of droll humor in his voice? Nick wondered. He knew from David that Brianna had a wickedly mordant sense of humor. She had to have gotten it from somewhere. If it came from her father, Nick might just be able to get through the morning.

  “You may go, Maybelle.”

  She rose and with a little jump was airborne. It startled the hell out of Nick, and he couldn’t help jerking from the shock. There were titters from the crowd behind him—until the king glowered at them, creating instant, almost echoing silence.

  “Good morrow, gentlemen. I had hoped to have an intimate, casual breakfast with my daughter and her guests.” He gave a theatrical sigh. “Unfortunately, as usual, things got a bit out of hand.” He cast a meaningful look at a nearby group—the only people dressed perfectly normally in human clothes. Based on their proximity to the king and their attire, Nick guessed they had the highest status.

  “Please join me at table and allow me to make introductions.” He gestured toward the empty space beside him. David and Pug took seats on either side of Brianna, leaving only one remaining spot … next to the king.

  Feeling completely overwhelmed, Nick sat, offering a strained smile as King Leu introduced the other woman at the table as his daughter Lucienne.

  Lucienne was stunning, with long red curls and ivory skin.

  The party on the nearest blanket were, as Nick suspected, the rest of the immediate royal family. The setting might be casual, but Eammon, the king’s eldest son, was not. He sat so rigidly he might well have had a steel pole for a spine. The top button of his white dress shirt was unfastened, but the garment had been ironed with enough starch to stand up on its own. His long red hair was pulled back in a tight braid and gleamed in a way that told Nick it was plastered with gel. His features were more square than his father’s, and yet there was no mistaking his heritage. Next to him, Rodan looked the part of the family bad boy, with his “rocker chic” image. His dark blond hair was perfectly tousled and he wore a faded Slayer T-shirt and artfully shredded blue jeans. A black opal, bigger than Nick’s thumbnail, dangled from his left ear. Rihannon, the daughter, was lovely, but there was a vacantness to her expression. Nick knew that look, he’d seen it often enough. Drugs: she’s on something, I’d bet my life on it.

  “This”—the king gestured to the rest of the gathering—“is the cream of my court … at least that portion willing to sully themselves by coming here.”

  There was a barb in that last, but Nick didn’t think it was meant for him, though he wasn’t sure who the intended victim was. King Leu might be playing nice, but Nick could tell this was not a man you wanted to cross. He had power: not just the power of position, or even that of magic. No, he had personal power, a force of personality and will that had nothing to do with his position and everything to do with the man.

  The king sat and waved his hand. Servants appeared as though from nowhere, some carrying platters heavily laden with food, others pitchers of drink. The food was distributed quickly, but not one person in the courtyard took a single bite or sip until the king had. Only then did they begin to feast.

  Nick was given a choice of everything from traditional breakfast foods like bacon and eggs, packaged cereals (who would have guessed they’d have Froot Loops?), to trout almondine and caviar. There was coffee, tea, and juices of every type. It looked like regular food—and smelled wonderful. But the best, overriding smell was of fresh-baked bread. Its delicious aroma filled the courtyard and Nick found his stomach rumbling with hunger in response.

  David took a ration of bacon, hashed browns, eggs, and slices of the bread, which he buttered and poured honey onto. Conscious of David’s warning, Nick tried to figure out how to discreetly test the food with his amulet, but didn’t have a clue how to manage it.

  Apparently he wasn’t discreet enough. The king noticed and inclined his head to speak directly into Nick’s ear.

  “Let me guess. She put it on a neck chain?”

  Nick blinked stupidly and Leu gave a low chuckle. “I put mine in a ring. Much more subtle.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “May I make a suggestion? When I stand up to make the announcement, drop your napkin. Wrap the chain around your hand so that the stone is on your palm. Then when you use a utensil or pick up a goblet, it’ll work without being obvious. I can’t tell you how many wineglasses I’ve ‘accidentally’ tipped over through the years. My mistress thinks me quite the klutz. She threatened to buy me one of those”—he struggled to find the right words—“mugs you get for babies?”

  “A sippy cup?”

  “Yes.” Leu’s expression managed to be both amused and angry. “That’s the one. Now, before your food cools and becomes inedible, I will make my announcement.”

  He straightened in his seat, gave Nick a quick nod, then stood.

  Instant silence. Forks stopped in midair as the nobles came to attention. Nick was not sure that the people with food in their mouths even dared chew. It was impressive enough that he nearly forgot to drop his napkin. H
e managed, awkwardly, to dump it from his lap and bend down behind the table. He’d no more than reached to pull the talisman from around his throat when he found himself nose to nose with a very suspicious and heavily armed guard. Their eyes met for a long second before the guard’s gaze moved to where Nick’s hand was touching the chain at his neck. The guard reached a finger out to touch the stone at Nick’s throat, the stone heated and flashed in response. Giving a nod of satisfaction, he backed away, but he watched Nick carefully as he wrapped the chain around his hand as King Leu had suggested.

  The two men rose almost as one, the guard returning to his stance behind the table, Nick to his seat on the bench. So far as Nick could tell, only two people noticed. Both of them at the “family” blanket. Everyone else seemed mesmerized by what the king was saying.

  “… unconditional surrender. At a meeting last night, terms were reached. The treaty document will be signed at high noon in the palace rose gardens.”

  “And as most of you already know, the envoy from the oracles arrived this morning bearing the list. It appears Brianna Hai has been elevated to the position of Ard Reigh. Alas, there are only so many spots on the list, so her elevation has resulted in Lucienne’s demotion to Ap Reigh.”

  Leu leaned forward so that both of his palms rested on the cloth covering the stone table. His features hardened, his eyes grew dark and unfathomable. Still, his words, when he spoke, were calm enough.

  “For some time now there has been speculation over the disappearance of Viktor, the elder son of Ulrich.” Leu’s eyes locked with those of an aging warrior at a blanket in the center of the courtyard. Nick tried to get a good look at him, but it was hard in the crowd. All he could see was a square-jawed, Nordic face with icy gray eyes and a wicked scar that ran from his left cheekbone to the corner of his mouth.