Warrior Fae Princess

by Breene, K. F.

  “Charity,” Romulus said, his fingers twitching. That meant move closer, quickly.

  She took her place beside and a little behind her father. The creatures’ dance-walk became less gaudy and more cautious. Their hair settled a little. They kept exactly the same speed.

  “Yes, they’ve always had a flare for the dramatic,” her father said, not slowing either. “They like people to notice them, including the grunts. Try to contain your movements. It is better when our adversary doesn’t know what we are thinking.”

  She’d thought she had been containing her movements.

  “Second,” the lead elf said when they neared, her smile showing large teeth and her skin faintly sparkling in the noon sun. Given the others weren’t also sparkling, Charity thought she must’ve used some sort of sparkly facial lotion or something. “It is exhilarating to see you emerge from the Flush. I am sure the king and queen will be delighted.”

  “Yes, of course they will,” Romulus said, and it was as friendly as it was arrogant. “The First has been planning a visit for some time. We must pay our respects.”

  The elf’s eyes zeroed in on Charity. “If you’ll forgive the bluntness, Second, we have been instructed to take this…young lady in.”

  “Is that right?” Romulus looked down on Charity. “Newly dubbed the Third and already her presence is requested among elf royalty? My goodness. We knew she was a shining star, but this is encouraging indeed. Unfortunately, the royal invitation was not sent out ahead of you.”

  The elves shifted, clearly flustered. They weren’t remotely as good at keeping their thoughts to themselves.

  “Yes, Second. It is an honor. The invitation…is coming. I think.” The elf took a small step forward and inched her arm out as if to reach for Charity.

  “Well, once we receive the invitation, we will be sure to answer immediately with a suitable date. Now, if you’d be so good as to step aside, we have business in the Brink.”

  The lead elf swallowed. “Yes, Second. Only, we’ve been ordered to bring her in.”

  “I do so hate conversational redundancy,” Romulus said, his small, annoyed movements somehow getting his point across more than his words. He was losing his patience, and a sword would end the monotony.

  “We’ve got orders for that one, too.” The elf on the right of the path, reminding Charity of a very pretty and dainty thug, pointed into the center of the group where Emery stood. “He’s in breach. He’ll need to be hanged.”

  The lead elf tensed, clearly knowing that was the wrong collection of words for the moment.

  Romulus smiled. “Hanged, did you say?”

  “Oh. Well…” The lead elf plucked at a large, ornate button. “Yes, Second. That’s elf business, of course. The lad played a cruel trick on the royalty some years back. With his brother. They’ve been ordered to be hanged. I apologize, but it’s the law.”

  Romulus laughed, surprising Charity. “What a hilarious joke,” he said. “Hanged. Why, that sort of brutality only applies to treason or heinous crimes. Per the doctrine of the Realm, initiated some few centuries ago, a custodes of high status would’ve had to stand in judgment of the ruling. Though, I will admit, we’ve been somewhat absent. Tell me, what was this cruel trick that warrants such a horrifying public punishment?”

  “He… Ah…” The lead elf rolled her shoulders, then her neck, looking for breathing room.

  “He did an illusion,” the dainty thug said. “I was there. The whole place was in an uproar—people yelling, the queen in a horrible temper, half the palace confused…”

  “An illusion. Hmm.” Romulus half turned. “Mr. Westbrook, please step forward, if you would.”

  Two fae parted to let Emery walk out with his shoulders slightly rolled, like a cage fighter ready to do battle. His jaw was set and his fingers moved. Penny stepped closer to the front of the group, her hands up near her chest and her fingers moving as well. They had a spell in the works, probably something nasty.

  The fae resumed their position, enclosing Halvor in the middle once again.

  “Now, Mr. Westbrook, please do elaborate on this trick you played with your brother,” Romulus said.

  “We did create an illusion,” Emery said, his hard eyes focused on the lead elf. “We put a dead end were there wasn’t one, switched the look of the hall, and confused…some of the palace.”

  “Yes, I see. And if one were to walk through this illusion, what would’ve happened?”

  “Nothing. They’d make it through and immediately find their way again.”

  “No, that’s the thing. It didn’t look like you could get through it,” the thug elf said, his thin and manicured eyebrows pinching together. “I was there. It was a dead end.”

  “We’ve established that it did, indeed, look like a dead end, yes,” Romulus said, his eyes flashing with impatience. “That is the nature of an illusion, after all. How long did this…trick last?”

  “An hour, tops,” Emery said, his fingers moving more now. Penny scooted closer.

  “I see the problem.” Romulus nodded. “The guardians have been gone too long from the rest of the Realm, and it has allowed the elves to lose their sense of humor. How tragic. Well, at present, there is nothing we can do about it. We are needed elsewhere. But don’t you worry, madam. Just as soon as we are able, we will meet with the elf royalty and work to re-establish our practices as the guardians of the Realm. Now, if you will kindly step aside…”

  Romulus waited patiently. The lead elf picked at her button. The lesser elves around her, fair and tall, hair blowing elegantly in the breezeless day, tensed. The very pretty thug pulled out a long dagger.

  A feeling like sandpaper slapped Charity in the face. Penny gasped and staggered backward.

  Emery threw his hand out for Penny. “No, babe, don’t—”

  Halvor burst out from the center of the group. The elf on the left snatched a whip, of all things, from a holster on his back. The pretty thug brandished his dagger. None of the three reacted in time.

  A slice of pink crackled through the air. It cut across the middle of the thug—the first to go for a weapon. He let out a high-pitched wail. Blood spurted in a plume.

  The pink swept across the group of elves before tearing into the elf with the whip newly in hand. His face went slack. The whip fell from his hand. The top half of his body slid from the rest and toppled to the ground.

  The two middle elves, including the leader, stared for one beat. Their eyes widened and a strange moan wheezed out of the leader. Both turned and ran.

  Halvor was after them in a moment, followed by half of Romulus’s guard. Small weapons gleamed in their hands.

  “That was impressive— No, no, Charity.” Romulus put his hand on Charity’s arm to stop her from running forward to help the others. “Guardian leadership do not chase small-minded idiots. It is beneath us. Penny Bristol, I am in rapture. What truly fantastic spell work. Clean, pretty, and so very brutal.” He half turned to look at her red face. She clearly hadn’t meant to let that spell loose. “Was that what you’ve been doing while creeping through everyone’s gardens?”

  “Umm…no. That was a reaction to the elves’ magic.”

  “Ah yes, I see.” Romulus stared after his men and women. He clucked his tongue, and Charity must have been learning to read his gestures, for she knew what he meant—his people had not dispatched the two elves as quickly as they should’ve. They’d been cooped up for too long. “I am disturbed by what I’ve seen so far on this journey, and we’ve only just begun. We’ve been gone far too long. Power, unchecked, corrupts those who wield it. I fear a disease is plaguing the Realm, eating it alive from the core outward.”

  “The warrior fae—I mean, guardians, used to police this place?” Charity asked as Emery stared at Romulus like he was seeing him for the first time.

  “Yes, though I confess, this knowledge came to me from scrolls and records. After the elves established law and order, our people needed very little protecting.
Our duty as custodes had all but dried up. The elves, seeing this, offered us the role of guardians of the Realm. Our duties entail keeping the peace and protecting all the magical people. Our kind was also sought to protect the elf royalty and their palace. You heard, as I did, what happened with that. But rest assured, my dear girl, the time for hiding has come to an end. We need to remind the elves of who we are, and the duty we are meant to perform.”

  The fae returned, and though their faces were businesslike and they’d cleaned and stowed their weapons, their eyes shone with exuberance. They were finally doing what was in their blood to do.

  Charity knew it was just the beginning.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “Sir! They’re coming! Sir!”

  Roger looked up from his desk in the castle, adrenaline fueling his body. Beazie, red-faced and out of breath, pushed open the door. Her eyes were wild.

  “They’re just up the road. A whole group of them! She brought a whole entourage out of the Flush. She came for Devon, just like you said she would.”

  Roger kept his composure. He’d hoped she would. It was anything but certain.

  When Devon had stopped by, not two full days ago, with the news that he’d left Charity behind, per his own judgment and Karen’s instructions, Roger had wanted to wring the younger alpha’s neck. Devon was hurting; any fool could see that. He felt the loss acutely, something Charity would’ve responded to. Except Devon hadn’t explained himself to Charity. He’d left in the middle of the night, without a word.

  If Roger hadn’t had years to hone his self-control in hostile situations, if he hadn’t trusted Karen’s Sight implicitly, things might’ve escalated. As it was, he lamented Dillon’s passing, listened to a brief account of their journey, and had to prevent a very strange red-haired woman from scaling the side of the castle walls just to see if she could reach the top.

  Instead of Charity, Devon had brought back a fae lunatic.

  “So the rumors were true,” Roger said quietly, staring down at the papers on his desk without seeing them. “You’re sure it’s them?”

  “Yes, alpha,” Beazie said, cleaning her hands on her white apron. “They walk like…phantoms. Deadly phantoms. They are what I’ve heard they are, and Charity is at the head with a very handsome man.”

  “Thank you, Beazie. Let me know if they stop in—”

  Alder appeared in the doorway, his face grim but eyes excited. He nodded, a subtle movement.

  Charity had brought the fae.

  “She’s asked to meet you in the courtyard,” Alder said without preamble. Beazie filed out of the way. “The Second Arcana is with her, along with a man that…I wouldn’t turn my back on for all the world.”

  “Yes, thank you, Alder.” Roger stood, feeling excited for the first time in a long time. Something big was underway. There had been more vampire activity than normal in recent weeks. More turnings. An elder was at work, and not one he knew—Roger had come to recognize Vlad’s smug predilection for flouting the law right under the shifters’ noses, Darius’s ability to mask his illegal enterprises with the appearance of legitimacy. This was someone different, and he or she was a master—suave and quick, striking quickly and without warning. The new power player dabbled in sacrifices, too. Ritual sacrifices that screamed demonic, with circles and symbols and other things Roger didn’t understand. He wondered if this vampire was perhaps the one who had hoodwinked Vlad and delayed Charity’s journey to the Flush.

  Roger needed some backup, and he really didn’t want to rely on a bounty hunter, since Reagan was the only one who could probably do the job, and she was in league with a vampire herself.

  He headed out of the castle with Alder on his heels. The crew stood to one side of the castle, with Charity standing in front with a man who shared her likeness but who didn’t look old enough to be her father. The rest didn’t fan out behind them so much as stand loosely clustered, with one person protected in the middle.

  No. Not protected. That was for show. Somewhat hidden and incredibly lethal. This was the person Alder didn’t want to turn his back on.

  Emery and Penny stood off to the side, their expressions fatigued and postures anxious. They wanted to get home.

  “Charity, great to see you again,” Roger said, and he meant every word.

  Her magic flowered around him, calling to his wolf. He could’ve sworn he heard battle drums in the breeze.

  “Hi,” she said, and sheepishly glanced at the man next to her. “Roger, this is the Second Arcana of the custodes, out of the Flush. D-Dad, this is Roger, the alpha of the North American pack. He’s the head alpha, over Devon, which is more like—”

  “I can see the distinction perfectly,” the Second cut in gracefully, a small tick of his head and a slight lean in his body indicating he recognized Roger as an equal.

  Roger held in his surprise at the ease with which he understood the unspoken language. It seemed these fae communicated similarly to shifters. That would make working with them even easier than he’d imagined.

  He just had to get them working together.

  “You can?” Charity asked, confused.

  “You may call me Romulus,” the Second said.

  “He can?” Charity said, now more confused.

  “Welcome, Romulus. Would you care to come in for a drink?” Roger shifted his stance just slightly, speaking through his body as the fae was doing.

  “How gracious, Alpha. Thank you for the invitation.” Romulus made the title seem loftier, somehow.

  “Please, call me Roger.”

  Romulus bowed. “I would love to take you up on that offer another time. For the moment, I think Charity is anxious to get back to her Alpha Shifter.”

  That must’ve been what they were calling Devon. Romulus had indicated he understood Devon was a step down from Roger’s position. Surprisingly, however, he seemed to consider the step a small one. Devon must’ve impressed them. Steve had told him the younger wolf had come a long way. Roger needed to reassess the young alpha’s pack standing, especially now that Charity had returned, her posture and air regal and confident. She was already donning her newfound status as Arcana royalty. The two would make a power couple. Roger had to make sure they were in prime position to use their potential.

  “Of course,” Roger said, returning the bow.

  “Roger, I wondered…” Charity fidgeted with a strap that wrapped around her middle.

  “They need a place to stay in the Brink,” Emery said, his hands in his pockets. “I doubt you want Vlad taking care of it. He’ll already be apprised of the situation.”

  “Yes, of course,” Roger said. Emery had his finger on the pulse of the worlds, that was clear. “I already have some houses temporarily blocked off in Santa Cruz. They’ll be comfortable until we can arrange a more permanent situation in the weeks to come.”

  “That is very kind.” Romulus bowed again, deeper this time. Surprisingly, Charity bowed with him, if somewhat stiffer. She needed practice. “We are in your debt.”

  “Not at all. I thank you for looking after my pack while they were in the Flush.”

  “While we are on the subject of Vlad the vampire,” Romulus said, “I would like to speak with him. He has…information that interests Charity and me, as well as an unhealthy attachment to my daughter. I’d like to set that to rights.”

  Roger allowed an aggressive smile to curve his lips. Judging by the fact that he’d killed elves without being hauled to the palace, he was capable of delivering on his threats. Assuming the rumors were true, of course.

  “If I knew where Vlad was, Second, he would be eternally dead by now. But rest assured, in due time, he will find you.”

  “Ah. Yes, of course.” Romulus’s posture suggested his business was concluded. It was time they got going.

  “If you use the nearest gate into the Brink, I can have transportation arranged for you,” Roger said, taking a step back to clear the way.

  “That is very generous, Alpha. Until
next time.”

  “Roger, we’re just going to…” Penny hooked a thumb at the fae. “We’re going to hitch a ride, if that’s cool.”

  He stepped forward to shake Emery’s hand, then Penny’s. “Thanks for getting them to the Flush.”

  Emery smirked. “You’ll want to thank Vlad for that.”

  “Not likely.”

  Emery chuckled and took Penny’s hand before following the others.

  Roger watched them walk down the lane in their loose formation, nearly as synchronized in their movements as Roger’s pack.

  Nearly.

  “What’d you make of that meeting?” Alder asked quietly.

  “There is no way that group of warrior fae is retreating back to the Flush anytime soon. Especially not if Vlad shows up and gives them a reason to fight.”

  “Then I guess we’ll have to hope Vlad shows up.”

  “Where Charity’s concerned, it is not if with Vlad. It is when. Make sure they are comfortable. We’ll support them until our peoples can come to an arrangement. Keep an eye on them, and let me know if Vlad or anyone else shows up.”

  “Should I let the young alpha know Charity has returned?”

  Roger laughed, turning to the castle. “And spoil their battle? Not a chance. The hotter Charity’s anger, the more fun Devon will have apologizing.”

  Chapter Forty

  As the Suburban pulled into the long drive, Charity could barely breathe through her anger and fear. Her dad and his people had been deposited in their modest houses, with gardens her father could barely stand to look at. Still, the accommodations were comfortable and welcoming, and it was incredible that the houses had been made ready for them at a moment’s notice. Roger was putting the Flush’s guest housing to shame, and Charity knew her dad felt it.