by K. M. Shea
I stroked her neck with a frown. “I don’t get it. You should have started putting on at least a little weight by now.”
Eclipse turned her head to peer at the newcomer.
The newest fae horse was standing back a little. It showed its teeth, pinned its ears, then bobbed its head at me.
In a normal horse that kind of body language would have me cautiously backing up, but with the fae horses I’d learned it was almost like they didn’t know how to be horses, so their signals were all off.
That’s the only reason why I dug out a carrot chunk and stretched my arm out in front of me.
I let the new horse approach me. It came in faster than I would have liked, but instead of using its lips to scoop up the carrot, it licked my hand like a dog.
A quick check below confirmed my suspicions that I was facing a mare. She was slobbering like crazy and losing bits of carrot.
She—like all the other horses had when they first met me—pressed her muzzle to my forehead, leaving a smear of spit, then backed up a few steps.
I felt that elusive brush of magic play with my senses—I’d fast figured out the source was the horses, but it didn’t seem malevolent so I was probably okay.
But this time was different.
The magic felt the same, but the impression of magic lasted longer, and I swear I felt cool night air fill my lungs, heard an owl hoot, and felt wet grass on my skin. There were stars in my eyes and moonlight on my skin, and then abruptly the feelings faded and I could see straight.
“That was weird.” I studied the new mare carefully as I felt for my inherent animal magic—which oozed around me just fine.
I’d been intending to back up a step, but Bagel chose to ram into me at that moment, smacking me into the new mare’s shoulder.
Mercifully, despite whatever abuse she’d endured, the mare didn’t seem to mind being touched. She shivered, and her muscles jumped, but she didn’t move or otherwise react.
I awkwardly patted her shoulder. “You’ll need a name, like the others.” I looked from her pale yellow eyes to her black coat—which had faint blushes of blood red hairs. “How about Nebula?”
The newly named Nebula flicked her ears, turned around, and walked off.
“It seems fine?” I asked Eclipse.
Eclipse was staring out at the open pastures, totally not listening to me. She pinned her ears, then coughed out the hoarse bark the fae horses used occasionally.
I’d come to learn this was an expression they used almost exclusively as a warning. Immediately I took a big step away from her, then jumped when there was an odd thrumming noise and something passed over my head. Something crackled and crunched, and a startled yelp escaped me.
The fae horses meandered around me without much concern, but I twisted around, trying to figure out what the noise was.
My jaw dropped when I saw the wooden fence just behind us. One of the boards of the top rail had a large hole in it. Whatever hit it had singed the wood, blackening it, and shredding it to splinters.
I felt a wispy sensation of fae magic brush my senses as I stared at the broken fence. “What the—”
This time I screamed when the thrumming noise passed over my head and I saw a magic bullet punch through the fence, showering the area with splinters.
Someone…someone is shooting at me!
Chapter Four
Leila
I bolted for the barn. “Bagel, Solstice, Eclipse, Comet, Twilight, Nebula, Blue Moon—come on!” I zigzagged through the pasture, trying to make myself a harder target as I tried to yank my phone and my magic artifact—a charm bracelet—from my pocket.
What’s the emergency phone number for the Curia Cloisters? Why didn’t I put it in my contacts list?!
I made it to the part of the pasture that was hidden behind the stable and slipped in a mud puddle. I flung my arms out to catch my balance, but dropped my phone in the process.
Fae grace and elegance my—
Something leaped from the barn roof and landed next to me—on the dry ground of course.
I toppled backwards, falling in my surprise. I started to scurry backwards, but when I looked up at my attacker, I found I couldn’t move.
Black eyes of death stared at me from a face so handsome it could take your breath away. Even partially hidden behind a gray scarf that encased the lower half of his face, his long nose gave him an aristocratic look, and combined with his skin—a tawny copper color—and his hair—cropped stylishly short but a very eye catching silvery white color—it made him almost otherworldly.
He was a fae—the magic radiating from him was so strong I could feel it resonate in my teeth. But his clothes—leather arm bracers, black boots, fitted black pants, a sweeping dark gray jacket split up the back with a high collar—were also a dead giveaway of fae workmanship.
If I hadn’t known any better, I might have thought he was one of the long dead elven warriors come back to life, but he had the whispery kiss of fae magic, and his ears were only slightly tapered like the fae.
But it didn’t matter; his black eyes pinned me in place, and I knew he was here to kill me.
Terror held a scream in my throat that couldn’t rip free. I stared up at him, paralyzed in fear. My fingers and legs were numb and didn’t listen when I tried at the very least to pull myself backwards.
He stared at me with his dead, light-less eyes, and pulled a dagger from his belt. “Mortem.”
I tried to fish my charm bracelet from my pocket—one of the charms was stuck on the edge of my pants.
His dagger glowed white hot, and he flicked it in my direction.
The dagger caught on something—or it looked like it did, because the fae froze with the dagger barely hanging from his fingertips.
I blinked stupidly up at the fae, who was frowning at his dagger.
I saw him lean into the weapon, his muscles tense with exertion, and he clenched his jaw as he pushed.
His arm didn’t move.
I gaped from the fae to his dagger. What the heck? I don’t see anything?
And then I felt it—a faint pressure.
Veined with the cobweb sensation that fae magic gave me, I felt magic thrum around us, creating a slight pressure in the air.
At least, it felt slight to me—it must have been stronger to the fae. He gritted his jaw, and I could see the muscles of his neck tensing as he tried to resist it, but eventually it pushed him back two steps.
The fae horses casually joined us, flanking me like it was no big deal, even though the muscles in my arms were still shaking.
Blue Moon casually sniffed my phone, and I was so consumed with the hope that he wouldn’t step on it, that I almost missed the fae’s words.
“Queen,” he said in a voice that was simultaneously smooth as ice and filled with rage.
“W-what?” I stammered.
His eyes were black holes in his freezing anger, and he dropped his chin for a moment.
Fae magic flared, and a stinging gust of wind blew dust into my face.
I curled an arm over my face to protect my eyes, and when everything settled the fae was gone.
“What just happened?” I stared at the spot where he’d stood—he hadn’t even left boot prints in the dirt.
I glanced up at the fae horses. “Was that magic from you guys? I certainly didn’t get a chance to cast anything.”
None of the horses responded except Comet, who lipped the top of my head. I shivered, remembering the fae’s cold, dead eyes. “He was definitely from the Night Court. Most fae from the Night Court have dark taupe, copper, or olive complexions like he did…I better call Hazel.”
I boosted myself to my feet and was in the process of wiping muck off my phone when two cars gunned it down the driveway.
I squinted, and my heart—which hadn’t recovered from my attempted murder—flopped uselessly in my chest.
The cars were a deep silvery color, and they both had the spotless, shiny look of luxury—which w
as at odds with the hobby farm, particularly as they parked just in front of the wooden pasture fence. But it wasn’t until I spotted the beautiful woman driving one of the cars—gorgeous in an impossible sort of way—that I realized they were from the supernatural community.
“It’s fine,” I told myself as I quickly swiped my phone open and speed dialed one of my contacts. “Maybe they’re following the almost-a-killer-creeper.”
My phone dialed as the fae emerged from the cars, looking around them with their fine noses wrinkled in distaste.
They had to be fae with their slightly tapered ears and willowy limbs. And just like my would-be-killer, they were descendants of the Night Court—a fact made obvious by the crescent moon pins they wore affixed to their fancy clothes, and their ashen taupe complexions.
I relaxed my shoulders when my call was picked up. “Leila! What’s up?”
“Hey, Hazel. Are you at Drake Hall right now, or House Medeis?” I asked. Since Hazel and Killian had become engaged, the pair split their time between the vampire hall and the magical wizard House.
“We just arrived at Drake Hall today! Did you want to come over for dinner?”
“Um, thank you, but no. But I could really use a little help right now.”
“Sure! What’s up?”
“A fae from the Night Court shot at me. I’m pretty sure he was trying to kill me, but he ran off when some strange magic intervened. Now I’ve got a couple fae walking across my lawn.”
“KILLIAN!” The line cut off, ending the call.
I could swallow, now. If Hazel and Killian were on their way, I’d survive this—vampires were that fast.
A fae in a navy blue suit offered his arm to the beautiful woman who’d driven one of the two cars. She was wearing a flowered, bright orange dress that would have looked more appropriate at a fancy afternoon tea than visiting the countryside.
The other car held an older, distinguished woman who wore such a prominent frown she looked like a frog despite her fae beauty, and three guards who wore black and carried daggers and swords strapped to their waists.
They have to be chasing after the fae—why else would they bring guards? I’m Unpledged, but that shouldn’t matter to them, even if they are from the Night Court.
Their presence made ice spread through my veins, and it wasn’t until Twilight nudged me that I was able to recover.
“Hello.” I walked past the edge of the barn, revealing myself to them. “Can I help you?”
I was grateful for the fae horses, who moved around me in a herd—suspiciously eyeing our guests. Comet sneered at them, and her red drool that dripped frightfully actually cheered me for once because all of the fae turned ashen when she aimed her coughing-bark at them.
One of the guards strode toward me, despite the shifty horses surrounding me. He lifted his sword and pointed at the wooden fence, mumbled a word, then chopped through the boards in one strike.
My jaw dropped. “That was our fence! We need that for the horses you inconsiderate—” I angrily swallowed my words, even though I wanted to shake my fist at them.
No, I don’t want to argue with them, I want to get them out of here as quickly as possible. It’s. Fine.
It didn’t matter anyway. The fae ignored my outburst and were marching into the pasture with all the pomp and elegance they could muster.
This was why I didn’t like dealing with the fae. They were incredibly selfish—and yes, I said that as a half fae.
The older, distinguished-appearing fae woman led them all. Her face twitched with disdain when she had to edge her way around a few piles of horse poop, but, hey, that’s what she got for breaking my fence!
I loosely dropped an arm over Eclipse’s neck when the mare stood next to me, an encouraging presence to me. “What brings you here?” I asked when the fae all stopped short of the fae horses and me.
“It cannot be you,” the old lady said. “You are not even a full fae!”
“You’re right,” I said brightly. “Thankfully, I’m only half. But you still haven’t told me why you’re here, ruining our fences.”
The old lady turned around. “You have misled us—our esteemed monarch could not possibly be half human!”
Esteemed monarch? What on earth is she talking about?
Suits—the fae in the navy blue suit—blinked. “I would not believe it either. However, doesn’t the night mares’ conduct prove it must be she?”
“It cannot be. We will have to release the night mares again. This will not be allowed,” the older fae declared.
I called her older, but truthfully she didn’t have many wrinkles—just a few lines at the edges of her eyes, which I’d bet were from scowling rather than smiling—and her gray hair was sleek and perfect.
Yeah, you could say the fae won the genetic lottery. Not only do they all have otherworldly looks and poise, but they age incredibly slowly and with a stupid amount of grace. I wasn’t too sad about inheriting that trait, but my fae blood came with a ton of baggage since fae are opinionated and political, so I still wasn’t a fan.
“How do we make them choose again?” Suits helplessly gestured to the fae horses surrounding me. “It took months to convince them to begin the search. If we refute their first choice it may be a year before they are willing to look again.”
What the heck are they talking about?
Since the fae didn’t seem inclined to answer me, I turned to Eclipse. “That’s it—they’re part of a cult, aren’t they?”
The fae in the fancy day dress tossed her head, making her hair ripple flawlessly. “I refuse to believe it. The night mares searched for months, and this is what they find? This must be their revenge.”
Nebula lunged at her, releasing a noise that started as a neigh and ended in that glass-piercing shriek all my fae horses could produce.
The woman screamed as she leaped backwards with an admirable amount of agility given that she was wearing high heels.
Apparently, this wasn’t enough, because Solstice reared, his nostrils flaring red as he also shrieked.
My heart squeezed with love for my homely horses as the fae went running back across the pasture and threw herself into one of the cars, shutting and locking the door behind her.
“Such a good boy.” I fondly patted Solstice on the shoulder.
“That’s a confirmation that two have chosen her.” The older fae woman peered down her nose at me. “But we ought to be able to make an appeal given her…human blood.” She shuddered in open revulsion, and unknowingly hit my switch.
I like to think I’m a pretty chill person, but I was proud of my human blood. Heck, it was my fae half I wasn’t thrilled about. And I wasn’t going to put up with someone criticizing me for something I was proud of.
“Okay, that’s it.” I slid my arm off Eclipse and straightened up. “You barge in here, break my fence, insult me and take potshots at my horses without even introducing yourselves? You’re awful—not to mention unwanted—guests,” I said, speaking the magic words.
All supernaturals have natural strengths and weaknesses.
Fae are really gifted with magic and are able to twist and meld it for tons of different uses—for everything from wards to mind reading to temporary love potions.
Fae also tend to be faster and stronger than the average human—although they’ve got nothing on vampires in the speed department or werewolves and shifters when it comes to strength.
The fae are powerful. And yet, they’re kept in check by some pretty iron-clad rules.
First off, they can’t lie—they are physically incapable of it. Supposedly it has something to do with the way they use magic and their bodies process it, but I never really bothered to learn for sure.
Lying isn’t as hard for them to get around as you might think—some fancy wordsmithing, a few vague sayings, and they can still manage to cheat and deceive people.
But the second big rule is etiquette. The fae are bound to lots of outdated rules of conduct. I th
ink it’s why they always prance around acting like old nobility from Europe.
The basic gist is that they have to obey and follow their monarchs—like lying, this rule is magic bound—but they’re also supposed to be excellent guests and hosts. This is more of a cultural thing. Magic doesn’t force them to do it, and they can get around it.
But you can still use it as a verbal weapon, which is exactly what I intended to do.
My accusation of their poor conduct made the fae stand tall.
“We,” the older woman ground out, “are representatives of the Night Court.”
“How surprising. What are you doing here?” I curled my hands into fists, dreading their answer.
“We are searching for our new ruler,” Suits said.
And there we have it. The biggest mess I could ever ask for.
The previous Queen of the Night Court died late in the fall. Since it was now May, that was a really long time to go without a monarch.
“And why would you be searching for a fae monarch on human land?” I asked.
The old lady pointed accusingly at the horses. “It is the night mares.”
“What?” I asked.
“The night mares choose our monarchs. We’ve been waiting for them to choose for months,” Suits said.
Night mares? Is that what they’re called? I peered at my equine friends, who seemed entirely unconcerned with our fae visitors.
Solstice bumped my shoulder. I patted his head. “Why are they called night mares when I know that some of them are geldings?”
Suits rolled his eyes. “It’s a title—not meant to be a description. It describes the type of animal they are.”
“They could have just called them night horses,” I grumbled. “I bet that they got named so one fae could tell a half lie to someone.”
The older fae sighed. “And after our pleas, this is what they chose? A mutt?”
“We should return to the Court, to see what can be done to restart the selection process,” Suits said.