by K. M. Shea
In the end, I didn’t care. I sucked in a few deep breaths and tried to smile.
Rigel is back. But now that I know how little he cares about me, it’s almost worse that he’s here.
I was feeling marginally better a few hours later when I sat between my parents on their sagging couch, a cup of coffee clutched in my hands and a warm fleece blanket patterned with cartoon chickens wrapped around me.
“I’m sorry, kiddo.” Dad kissed the side of my head and sighed as he patted my knee. “I wish I could fix this for you.”
My smile was a watery mess. “Thanks, Dad.”
Even though Paul was my stepdad, I considered him my real dad. He married Mom and adopted me when I was about ten, and was the perfect dad—taught me how to drive, paid for my horseback riding lessons, attended any school events I had, the whole thing.
Dad scratched his chin. “But I wonder why Rigel wouldn’t tell you where he was. Must be a secret fae thing?”
I traced one of the cartoon chickens on the blanket with a finger. “I have no idea.”
“But he said he didn’t set the trap, or work with whoever set it up?” Mom asked.
“Yep.” I sipped my coffee, but for once the hot drink didn’t comfort me like it always did.
“I know you’re very hurt that he disappeared, but doesn’t this mean he is still yours, and he hasn’t gone rogue?” Mom asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. He wouldn’t say anything about where he was or what he was doing.”
“Surely there must be a reason why he won’t say anything?” Mom persisted.
“He’s a fae, Mom. There could be a million sneaky, horrible reasons why he won’t speak—most likely it’s because he can’t lie about wherever he’s been, so it’s easier to stay quiet.” More words burned in my stomach, but I clamped my mouth shut, making my teeth click.
Apparently I’ve moved on to the anger stage of grief. Yay me.
Mom kissed the top of my head. She had to half rise out of the couch to reach my head since I was taller than both her and Dad. “I know right now you’re feeling hurt, and it’s understandable. But Rigel is loyal to you, sweetie. He wouldn’t do that to you.”
I snorted. “Yeah, right. Because fae are known for being loyal and sticking around.”
Mom studied me for a few moments, then her gaze flickered to Dad. “Paul, could you see if Azure would like some coffee?”
“Sure—I’ll see if I can bring her inside finally, she must be finished changing the oil for your car by now.”
Azure was a naiad—a water spirit—and in addition to being my personal chauffeur, she was also a crackin’ mechanic and tinkered with my parents’ vehicles whenever we stopped in.
I glanced at the clock that hung from the wall. “Yeah, you’ll want to grab her now. Eventually she’ll realize there’s a tractor, lawn mower, and snowblower out in the barn, and then we’ll never get her inside.”
Paul stood. “Oop,” he said when he tottered for a step. He shook his head. “Gosh darn—Leila, don’t grow old.” He winked at me, then turned his smile on Mom. “Do we have any tea I can offer Azure instead of coffee? Lord Linus told me fae prefer tea.”
Mentioning Lord Linus’s name brought a bitter taste to my mouth, but I made my expression stay placid—it wasn’t Paul’s fault my biological father was a twit. “Lord Linus? Has he been bothering you two?”
“Nah—he’s great,” Paul said.
I was starting to ponder Paul’s ability to judge a person’s true self when he continued. “He gives us the best updates on you—sometimes he even texts us pictures of you all dolled up for all your events.”
“He what?”
Mom patted my hand. “Tell Azure we have some peppermint and chamomile tea if she’d like any, Paul.”
“Okay.” Paul waved to us as he left the living room, going through my parents’ small but homy kitchen.
I waited until I heard the door to the garage open and close before I spoke again. “For real, Mom, is Lord Linus bothering you guys? I swear I can’t look away from that idiot for even a second. He—”
“Leila, you need to talk to him,” Mom said, neatly interrupting my tirade.
I blinked. “Talk to Paul?”
“No. Linus.”
I shook my head. “The less I talk to him the better.”
“He cares for you.”
I snorted into my coffee mug before I took another sip. “Not really. He only cares about himself.”
“That’s not true,” my mom said.
“It’s absolutely true!” I almost sloshed my coffee all over my lap, so I set it down on a cow-shaped coaster on the cluttered coffee table. “The day Rigel went missing, Lord Linus told me he didn’t regret missing my childhood. He’s only cared about me since I became queen!”
Mom studied me thoughtfully. “Is that why Rigel’s disappearing hurt you so deeply?”
“…What?”
“Because you think Linus abandoned us, are you afraid Rigel is going to do the same?”
I sank deeper into the couch. “This isn’t the time to bust out some weird psychology, Mom.”
“It’s not psychology,” Mom patiently said. “I just think Linus’s actions made you decide some generalizations about fae that simply aren’t true. Like your general belief that fae—fae nobles in particular—will easily abandon you.”
“Fae are capable of doing some pretty terrible things.”
“As are humans,” Mom said. “They fight and hurt one another just as easily as fae—or any of the supernaturals do.”
“Yeah, I know humans aren’t perfect,” I said. “But…it’s just…” I trailed off, unable to put into words how much Rigel had hurt me.
“It’s healthy that Rigel’s actions have hurt you. It means you care for him, and you’re not going to let him walk all over you,” Mom said. “Frankly, if he came back and you were only happy, I’d be quite concerned for you. And he owes you an explanation for where he’s been—a detailed explanation.” Mom narrowed her eyes, and for a moment her sweet smile and kind midwestern attitude were swapped for something steely and hard.
When she glanced at me that strength melted back into her deep smile lines. “But I think you need to clear the air with Linus, too. That might help you feel better.”
“What’s there to clear the air about? He abandoned us, and you found someone a thousand times better,” I said.
“He had reasons, Leila.”
“What reasons could he possibly have that would make it okay to drop us?” I rolled my eyes.
“That’s not my story to tell,” Mom said. “But you need to ask him.”
“No thanks, I’ll pass.”
“Leila Grace,” Mom growled. “Given what you know, I can understand why you dislike Linus. But I—the woman who brought you into this world—am telling you that you need to talk to him. Understood?”
“Yes, Mom,” I meekly said.
Hey, I might have been an adult and the Queen of the Night Court, but when your Mom uses your middle name, you do what she says—no matter how old you are.
Mom sighed, then perked up—all hints of her inner strength gone. “I think it will make you feel better, and might make it easier for you to talk to Rigel.” She made a clicking noise with her tongue. “But don’t be afraid to make that young man squirm. I don’t want to see you two fight, but he does deserve to have his ear pulled for haring off like he did. I’d like to box his ears myself for making you sad.”
“Yeah.” I awkwardly scrubbed at my face. It still felt like Rigel had torn my heart in half, and there was a spiteful part of me that wanted to avoid talking to Linus.
But Mom told me to talk to him, and she wouldn’t tell me that just to give him yet another chance to say something uncaring and terrible.
The door opened, and Dad and Azure entered the kitchen, talking about cars.
“Bethany,” Dad called. “Where’s the peppermint tea?”
“I’ll get it!” Mom
kissed me on the cheek again. “Why don’t you warm up your coffee and I’ll get out the banana cream pie I made this morning?” she asked.
“Okay.” I picked up my mug—which had a fat pony painted on it—and stood up.
When I entered the kitchen, Azure worriedly looked me over—not surprising considering I’d cried almost the whole way here.
I smiled at her.
Her returning smile bloomed into a beam, which made the brush of opalescent scales on her forehead glimmer in the kitchen light and seemed to brighten the blue tint of her skin.
No matter what happens with Rigel or Lord Linus, I have supernaturals who care about me—members of my own Court. And that’s more than I ever hoped for.
Chapter Five
Rigel
“I think that summarizes all the leads we’ve followed since you left,” Chase said.
He strode in front of me, leading the way as we followed his patrol pattern—at least once per evening he physically checked in with all of his people at their various stations.
I didn’t think Leila knew he was this diligent, but I’d learned everything I could about Night Court security when I was first made consort. Occupational habit, probably.
“The clues really drop off? You can’t scent anything different—there hasn’t been any evidence left behind?” I asked.
Chase shook his head. “The only thing we really have to go on is the weird magic Leila and any other fae have felt when facing down magic attacks. She says it’s not fae magic, and that it feels old and deadly.”
The werewolf peeled off from the main hallway and entered one of the many drawing rooms inside the mansion.
This one was strategic because it was directly beneath Leila’s and my bedrooms. As a result, Chase posted a guard by the balcony.
It was decked out in typical fae luxury—shining wooden floors with plum-colored carpets decorated with a silver flower design and dark blue walls with black crown molding. A fresco of a waxing moon was painted on the wall, and another was decorated with an enormous Japanese woodblock print of traditional Japanese tea implements.
A massive marble statue of a naiad and a dryad was placed in the center of the room, making it nearly impossible to sit in any of the luxurious couches and chairs to hold a conversation.
Leila has most likely not spent much time in this room—or she would have figured out how to sell that statue.
“Has no one been able to track the magic to a particular kind of supernatural?” I asked.
“No. But we think it’s an old magic. An elf spell was once used on Adept Hazel of House Medeis and Eminence Killian Drake. It seems unlikely there are multiple groups that would be willing to throw ancient magic around when spells are expensive and rare, so it still gives credit to the Paragon’s theory that there is an organization behind the attacks on Queen Leila.”
Chase approached the guard—a fierce troll who made no effort to hide the way she balefully eyed me over Chase’s head given her great height.
I caressed my bracers as I pondered the difficulty I’d accidentally launched myself into.
Because my geas keeps me from talking, I can’t even point them in the right direction—though if they’re looking into the magic that’s a promising start. That will lead them to the main culprits rather than the patsy they set up to hire me and do most of their dirty work. But this isn’t ideal. I didn’t know there’d been any more attempts while I was tracking down information. And Leila’s reaction was…unexpected.
I’d expected anger. But she’d cried.
I’d never seen her cry before. Not when she faced down her whole Court, not when she stood up to the other fae monarchs. Her eyes had gotten teary before, but she just got more stubborn, angrier, and bolstered through.
Until me. I made her cry.
The knowledge inspired a dull ache in my chest that I hadn’t experienced before, and was not enjoying.
Previously, I’d never inspired emotion like that. Yes, I’d made a career on my ability to incite fear, and I was used to being dreaded.
But no one had ever looked at me like I had meant something to them before I ground them under my heel.
It was…unsettling.
I wish she’d just yell at me.
I clenched my jaw and casually felt for the short sword buckled to my belt.
Why didn’t she yell? What pain could I have possibly inflicted? I’d understand if they were more convinced that I am behind some of the assassination attempts, but Chase would not be escorting me around the mansion, telling me vital knowledge if he believed that.
Chase slapped the troll guard on the back of her arm and slunk back to me, looking particularly canine as he wove through the furniture with precise movements. He motioned for me to follow him from the room. “Next station,” he said.
“Does Leila know you’re telling me all of this high security intelligence?” I asked.
Chase glanced back at me—by sheer habit I tended to walk in the shadows while he strode under the hanging lights. “You mean is she convinced you didn’t set up the trap that used your butterfly swords? Mostly—I’m inclined to agree with her.”
“Inclined to agree? You aren’t certain about me but you still tell me all of this?”
Chase flicked his yellow eyes in my direction. “Yes…well…” He trailed off when he saw two guards walking the hallways. He raised a hand to them as they saluted, and joined them, once again speaking in a lowered tone.
One of the guards was a pixie—who was small and hovered in the air but had an agility no other supernatural could match with his ability to fly out of harm’s way. His partner was the grandson of a fae noble.
Occasionally his eyes flicked in my direction. Like the troll, he did not look enthused to see me.
As I waited for Chase to finish, I saw Lord Iason and Lady Theodora strolling at the far end of the hallway, where it intersected with one of the other wings.
The noble pair stopped and gaped at me, and for a moment they tensed with fear. But their fear quickly melted into anger as Lady Theodora pressed her lips together until they were almost white and Lord Iason furrowed his eyebrows.
Interesting.
I waited until Chase rejoined me to ask. “It seems Leila has won the loyalty of the Night Court?”
“What do you mean?” Chase asked.
“When I was last here they feared me and respected her—a true respect, not the grudging type she had inspired when we were first married. Now, it seems that—despite their still very real fear of me—the Night Court is angry with me.”
“Ahh, well. I think they were well on their way to loving her even before you left—they were merely consumed with terror of you so you didn’t get a chance to see it,” Chase said.
“Hmm.”
At least that is one positive out of all of this. Leila has captured her Court—they’re hers, now. She has no need to fear an inside attack.
I stepped around a sideboard that contained a bouquet of blooming irises—out of season considering there was at least a foot of snow outside—and a porcelain tea set with a cobalt blue design and gold accents that I recognized as a modern Russian design. “You still haven’t answered me,” I said.
Chase cocked his head. “You mean why I’m sharing all this information with you?”
“Yes.”
Chase motioned for me to follow him into a familiar room—Leila’s personal study.
It hadn’t changed much since I’d last been here. There were a few new dog beds strewn around the floor, but the room was a monument to knowledge. Two floors of wall-to-wall bookshelves with a winding walkway that reached up to the second floor filled the bulk of the room, but massive windows, and comfortable couches arranged in front of Leila’s enormous desk gave it more personality.
Leila’s desk was piled high with papers—as usual.
If bloodshed is my vice, work is hers.
Chase clasped his hands behind his back and studied me carefully. “
I don’t know that I trust you to not have connections, or be doing something for your own motivation. But I do know you protect Leila, and that your protection isn’t just happenstance.”
How did a werewolf get to be so observant? I studied him, wondering how much he saw.
I wanted to protect Leila. That was why I’d left. It was the first time I’d ever done something for somebody because I wanted to.
And didn’t it turn out marvelously well.
“That’s a risky conclusion,” I said. “What proof do you have that I value her safety?”
Chase was impassive, but I could tell by the flicker in his yellow eyes that he was thinking. “As a werewolf I have…instincts,” he said slowly. “It’s what makes a pack work together. We can understand each other—even if nothing is said.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but we’re not your pack.”
Chase turned away from me to scan Leila’s study.
That’s an avoidance technique, I realized as I watched the werewolf.
“Or are we?” I asked.
“I still belong to the Northern Lakes Pack. But…” Chase shrugged, and he lost some of his strict stiffness as he looked up at the ceiling and scratched his neck. “I don’t know quite what’s happening, but I feel loyalty to Queen Leila like I would an alpha.”
I narrowed my eyes, and Chase flatly added, “Loyalty to her as a leader.”
Something in me eased—which, ironically, made me tense. What would I care how he views Leila, outside of knowing that he’s loyal?
“I’m also feeling the same bond like I would to a packmate for Indigo, Skye, my people…and you.”
“And that gives you magical powers to be able to ascertain that I’m safe for Leila?”
“Yes,” Chase said.
Unable to face down the hard truths in his eyes, I looked away. “Any guesses why you’re feeling these ties?”
“No. I reported it to Pre-Dominant Harka. She said sometimes Lone Wolves get connections like this, but it’s never happened to a wolf that is still an active part of a pack.” Chase sighed. “I never counted on seeing fae as family, either.”
