Confessions of a Dangerous Fae (The Supernatural Spy Files Book 1)

by Jenna Wolfhart

  I edged forward. “I’ll do it.”

  I couldn’t believe my luck. This was the perfect opportunity to get back on track with my spying mission. There must be something inside Lugh’s room that could clue me in on what he had planned. Papers lying around. Rubbish he’d tossed in the bin. Big flashing neon signs he’d hung on the walls...

  Selma snorted and slid the cap back on the whiteboard pen. “Absolutely not.”

  I crossed my arms. “Why is that? Because I’m new? I think I’m capable of making a bed, thank you very much, regardless of whose arse sleeps in it.”

  A murmur went through the cleaning crew.

  Wicked amusement flickered in Selma’s eyes. “Alright then. Think you’re up to the task? Go ‘head. Clean the King’s rooms. Imogen here will go with you.”

  Imogen towered over me at around six feet tall. She had bright pink hair, a nose piercing, and a swirling tattoo on her stomach, shown off by the cropped tank top she wore with black skinny jeans.

  We both opened our mouths to argue. Me because I couldn’t very well snoop through Lugh’s stuff if I had someone watching my every move. And Imogen because, well...it seemed like the entire cleaning crew was pretty averse to the idea of tidying up the King’s rooms.

  “Nope!” Selma stopped us before we could get in a word. “Moira, you wanted to do it, so you’re getting what you asked for. Imogen, you can’t keep avoiding this task for the rest of your life. Now, go. Shoo. Get on with it, the both of you.”

  With a grumble in my direction, Imogen led me over to the cupboard full of cleaning supplies. We loaded up with bin bags, cleaning rags, and a hoover, and made the trek over to the Royal Palace. It was a commanding building inside the same square where the Great Hall had been built. In the middle, a small tower rose up above the flat roof, holding an ancient clock with golden arms.

  We entered a small wooden door beneath an oversized wrought-iron lamp. Inside, Imogen led me down the red-carpeted floor to a grand arched door at the end of the hallway.

  “You’ve gotten us into it now.” Imogen balanced the bucket of cleaning supplies in her arms, and then kicked the door open. We strode inside, and I came to a sudden stop. The place was an absolute tip.

  “What the hell?” I squeaked.

  “Yep.” She tossed me a bin bag. “Welcome to the wonderful task of cleaning up after Lugh. He’s a great King, but...”

  I bit back the urge to contradict her and gazed at the mess. “How long has it been since you last cleaned it?”

  “A week. He always goes into town on Thursday mornings, and we like to clean it when he’s not around to watch. It makes him grumpy.”

  I gawked. I couldn’t help it. Lugh’s living quarters were made up of three open-plan rooms. The living area stretched out just before us where two dominating sofas formed a V around a twenty gallon aquarium. The floors were beautiful, glistening hardwood, from what I could see, but every square meter hid beneath piles and piles of books. There were books on the sofas, books on the coffee table, and books sitting on top of lampshades.

  If it hadn’t been so messy, I would have been impressed. The lofted white ceiling was carved in intricate, antique designs and the wood-panelled walls were just as elaborate. Bronze candle-holders were scattered throughout, and the center stone fireplace took my breath away. It was big enough to fit an entire horse inside of it. Above a mantlepiece, a golden horse and a silver lion held up a coat of arms between them. That same sigil was on it—the cloaked figure hidden in the mist.

  I inched further into the room and looked to the right where Lugh’s bedroom hid under...more books. The ivory sheets were on the floor, along with his pillows. Pens and pieces of parchment decorated the walls as if they’d been taped there haphazardly.

  To the left was the kitchen, but no meals were cooked there.

  It just held more books.

  “Any idea what this is all about?”

  Imogen was already busying herself. She’d made a stack of books by the archway separating the bedroom and the living room, and she seemed to be placing them into colour-coded piles.

  “He’s researching,” she said firmly as her pink hair fell into her face. “Most of these books are hundreds of years old.”

  “I can see that,” I coughed. The dust was as plentiful as the books.

  Imogen stood and pointed toward the sofa. “Come on then. You were the one who wanted to clean his room. We start by sorting the books and stacking them in piles by the walls. We need to clear the floors and furniture, so we can give the place a good clean.”

  With a shake of my head, I got started. While Imogen focused on the living area, I headed into his bedroom to take a look around. She was right. Even if I wanted to snoop, there’d be nothing to see unless we cleared all this away.

  As I grabbed the books from his bed, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. It was a glistening oak case tall enough to brush the top of the ceiling. I stepped back, surveying it with interest.

  The case held a spear. Next to it sat a black shield with a hard boss of white bronze. It was a pretty basic looking shield, but the spear...

  I took a step closer. It was one of the most beautiful weapons I’d ever seen. With its five points, it could do some serious damage. The heads were a dark bronze, each one tapering to fine and very sharp points. They were all fastened to a rowan shaft and latched into place by gleaming golden rivets. But the most interesting part about this spear wasn’t the craft of it. It was the magic seeping out of the case.

  It looked nothing like the spear from the Sluagh vaults. That had only had one tip, and it had been silver, not bronze.

  But what were the odds? I wouldn’t really call a spear a typical weapon of choice. Curious, I reached toward the handle.

  “You can’t touch that!” Imogen leapt toward me, her eyes wide and fearful. She grabbed my hand and yanked me away from the case.

  “Whoa, calm down,” I sputtered. “I was just taking a look.”

  She held up her hands, shaking her head as she stood firmly between me and the case. “You can not touch Lugh’s spear.”

  I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, but I nodded anyway. “Yeah. Okay, got it. I didn’t know.”

  “Not even the case,” she warned.

  “Yep. Not even the case.”

  She gave an uneasy nod and then moved away before turning to get one more warning in. “It’s locked, by the way. You wouldn’t be able to open it, even if you wanted to. Just...don’t try.”

  “Okay,” I whispered, watching her trembling back as she rejoined the pile of books on the living room floor. As soon as her focus was off me, I risked another glance at the case, heart pounding.

  Despite being a beautiful spear, I couldn’t imagine what about it could inspire so much terror. It reeked of magic, but it was locked away, so it wasn’t like it could actually get to us out here.

  I flicked my eyes toward Imogen and then back at the spear. “So, what’s the deal with this thing? Why do we have to stay away from the spear?”

  Imogen glanced up, her pink hair falling into her eyes. “Because if you touch it, you’ll burst into flames.”

  I blinked at her. Okay, I hadn’t expected that. “Say what now?”

  She let out a little giggle. “I’m just kidding. I don’t actually know why we can’t touch it.”

  “So, then....what about all that....?” I waved my hands, referring to her frantic freak-out.

  Her expression sobered. “Lugh doesn’t want us near it, but I don’t know why. All I know is he’ll punish anyone who tries to even open the case. And his punishments are far worse than the trials. He tends to do it in secret, but...we’ve all heard the stories.” She inclined her head toward my broom. “So, touch it if you’d like, but don’t stay too attached to those hands of yours.”

  7

  Eyebrows furrowed, I paced from one end of my chilly room to the other. Lugh had a spear, one he was terrified for people to touch. The pers
on who had helped me in the vaults had also wielded a spear. The two could very well be linked.

  Lugh could have been the one to help me in the vaults, even if it made no sense at all.

  That fact alone would mean bonus points for Lugh. But I’d also just found out that he liked to chop off people’s hands.

  It had been a few days since I’d last seen him. My little mission to seduce the information out of him wasn’t going exactly as planned. I needed to ramp things up a notch and fast, or the cauldron would be in his hands before I even knew what it did.

  When the cleaning tasks were being assigned the next day, I quickly stepped in for the training room. I’d found nothing of note in Lugh’s room, though I hadn’t been able to search his drawers or his cupboards yet. Unfortunately, his room wouldn’t come back into rotation for another week, so I needed to try a different approach.

  “I know a lot about handling and cleaning weapons,” I interjected before Selma could even finish listing the options for the day. “I’m happy to take on the training room.”

  Selma slid her eyes toward Imogen. “How’d she do with the King’s room?”

  “Fine.” Imogen shrugged. “Bit complain-y about the mess, but aren’t we all?”

  Selma flashed me a wicked grin. “Bet you won’t be se eager to clean his room next week, now will you?”

  I decided to hide that I was in fact very eager, as I didn’t want to raise any suspicion. Knowing her, she was probably far more likely to send me back again if she thought I didn’t want to do it. “I didn’t know that it would be like that.”

  Selma snorted. “The King is one of a kind. Very well. You put in the time there. You can have the training room today. Imogen, you’ll go with her again.”

  Imogen didn’t complain this time. Instead, she shot me a wink and a thumbs up. My heart raced in excitement. It felt like years since I’d stepped foot inside a training room, even if it had been a week at most. I knew I wouldn’t have a chance to train now, but I wanted to step foot inside the space, breathe in the scent of it.

  And I wanted to see if they had any spears.

  We grabbed the cleaning supplies and headed to the training room. I pushed open the door, but stopped short when I saw who was inside. Imogen slammed into my back, but the impact didn’t nudge me forward. My head felt fuzzy. All the blood in my veins began to boil.

  Lugh spun across the blue training mat like a tornado. He had a silver-tipped spear in his hand, and he whirled it sideways like it was an extension of his arm. He jabbed it forward at an invisible foe and roared. The invisible foe stood no chance against a charge like that.

  Sweat glistened on his exposed back muscles. His dark curls hung in his hooded eyes. As he continued through his next set of moves, I couldn’t do anything other than stare.

  “Oh right. I forgot. We need to wait outside,” Imogen muttered, grabbing my arm to pull me back.

  I pulled out of her grip and stepped further inside the training room. The door slammed shut behind me, booming through the cavernous space.

  Lugh’s elaborate routine came to a sudden stop. He twisted toward me and scowled.

  I held up my bucket. “Sorry. Came here for a clean.”

  Why the hell was I apologising? I ought to be shouting at him for making me mop up after him in the first place.

  “You’re meant to check the log books before bursting in here with your mop and bucket.” He snapped the spear into its stand against the wall and stalked away from me. “You interrupted my training session.”

  “A pretty impressive training session at that,” I said, following close behind.

  He stopped suddenly, but kept his glistening, toned back turned my way. “Has my hearing failed me?” As I inched around him, I caught a glimmer in the corner of his eye. “That sounded like a compliment.”

  “Maybe because it was one.” I edged a little closer, coming to a stop when we stood face-to-face. “You’re good with a spear.”

  His lips quirked. “Of course I am. I’m the best in this Court. Perhaps the best fae alive.”

  Bloody hell, this male was cocky.

  Feigning disinterest, I leaned against the wall while I watched him towel the sweat off his body. It was difficult to stay focused, but I had a mission. “Anyone else in the Court good with a spear? I’ve only ever met sword fighters.”

  He slowed, towel pausing between the dip in his abs. “Most fae prefer the sword, but I’m curious how you’ve met so many warriors.”

  Dammit. Not again. I kept forgetting to downplay my knowledge about the fae.

  “There are more solitary fae out there than you think.” Was that even true? Didn’t matter. All that mattered was convincing Lugh it was true.

  “Now that does not surprise me.” He dropped the towel into a wicker basket in the corner and grabbed a stainless steel water bottle. As he took a long chug, I couldn’t help but notice how a few drips escaped and ran down his chin, and then neck, and then chest...

  Ahem.

  “You talked about signing in,” I tried. “Do you have a weapon’s log as well? Something that people have to sign when they take them out of here?”

  Lugh stopped chugging and gave me a suspicious glare. “If you’re thinking of taking a weapon out of this room, then you are going to be very disappointed.”

  “Mostly, I’d like my own weapon back, thanks,” I snapped.

  Narrowing his eyes, Lugh leaned forward and wrapped his hand around the back of my neck. All logical thought fled from my brain. My heart barely worked. A beat here, a beat there. Not that I even noticed. The only thing in the world that existed was his hot as fire touch against my skin.

  I swallowed hard.

  “You will get your weapon back when I decide that I trust you.”

  “And when will that be?” I whispered.

  His eyes dropped to my lips, and he frowned. “Fate is certainly a strange beast.”

  My heart skipped another beat. “You’re speaking in riddles again.”

  “I’m not speaking in riddles, and you know it.” With that, he dropped his hand and pulled away. “Your cleaning friend is outside, listening to every word we say. I should let you two get on with your job.”

  Lugh took another chug of his water, and then strode toward the training room doors. Frustrated, I called after him. “Are you the only fae in this castle who fights with a silver-tipped spear? If so, then I have a riddle for you. One that involves the—”

  With a growl, he whipped toward me. “Do not question your King.”

  He ripped open the door to reveal a wide-eyed Imogen creeping in the background. Without a single glance in her direction, he stormed down the hallway and disappeared from view.

  Imogen’s mouth dropped open. She pointed at the King, and then at me. “You two are...”

  “We are nothing,” I hissed. I knew how this probably looked to her. Like some kind of lover’s quarrel.

  “Have you slept with him?” she whispered.

  I scoffed. “No. Of course not. I barely even know him. Besides, he’s not my type.”

  My type definitely did not involve cocky arseholes with perfect dark hair, gorgeous cheekbones, and back muscles that were something straight out of Greek God artwork.

  Imogen didn’t look convinced, and I didn’t want to hear anymore. I grabbed the mop and bucket, and got to work. But the feel of his skin on my neck was much harder to drown out. I could still feel where his fingers had touched me, like they’d left behind an impression, a mark.

  I needed to get a grip.

  “Saoirse, we need to talk.”

  My new—and only—friend froze halfway through the doorframe. Her purple eyes furtively cast for an answer to my sudden demand, darting from one corner of my room to the next.

  “What’s happening?” she finally asked, though she made no move to slither further inside.

  I flicked my eyes to the hallway behind her. Several fae passed by. A green-haired female slowed to eavesdrop on o
ur conversation. With all the enhanced hearing flying around this place, the only way to have a private conversation was with the door firmly shut.

  “Come inside,” I insisted. “I don’t want anyone listening.”

  She pondered my request for a moment, but then hurried inside. When the door was finally shut, I spilled out my words. “The night of my trial, there was someone else in the vaults.”

  She pressed her lips together, crossed the room, and peered out the tiny window at the cliffs below. Nothing about her expression screamed surprise. So, Saoirse already knew. Another point in the Lugh column.

  “Are you going to say anything?” I asked.

  She turned to face me. “This isn’t a conversation that I can have with you. You need to ask the King.”

  “I tried,” I said plaintively. “But he refuses to talk about it.”

  “Then, I’m afraid I can’t help you.” She let out a tiny sigh, crossed the room again, and peered out the tiny peephole in the door. Then, she turned to face me. “Look, all you need to know is that not everyone in this Court can be trusted.”

  Shock hit me square in the gut. Well, that was certainly the last direction I expected this conversation to take. I’d dragged her in here wanting to know answers about Lugh’s spear, and instead we were talking about something else...and I didn’t quite understand what that something else was just yet.

  I furrowed my brows. “What are you talking about?”

  Her purple eyes slid to the door. “It’s hard to hide things in a place like this.”

  “Because of the...” I tapped my ears.

  She nodded. “We have protective wards on the doors, but they don’t block out everything.”

  “Are you trying to say that someone is listening to our conversation right now?” I asked in a harsh whisper.

  “Maybe.” She shrugged, seeming far more at ease about this whole thing than I felt. Sure, I’d used my own enhanced hearing to my advantage many times before, but suddenly it felt like my every move was being watched. And I didn’t like it. “The thing is, we can’t know every time someone is listening. So, it’s best to keep mum.”