Crown of Shadows (Court of Midnight and Deception Book 1)

by K. M. Shea

  “I have taken the liberty of making two lists of the top candidates depending on your choice. A list of fae from less powerful families—which means they won’t be able to pressure you into anything, but are likely to use your position to aid their climb to power and will be unable to help you should you need it—and a list of candidates from more powerful families—which means they will certainly aid you should you need it, but they will also pressure you to rule in a way that benefits them.”

  “Ohhh, I bet family dinners are going to be fun,” I said. “Which list is Lord Dion on?”

  Skye slightly pursed her lips. “Neither, actually. I believe that’s why the Paragon chose him. He’s more neutral—while his family is neither powerful nor weak, he is personally well liked by the Courts, considered quite competent, and has strong ties to the Paragon thanks to his work outside the fae community.”

  Ah. That’s why the Paragon chose him. He’s the least ruthless match up, but then the Paragon could pressure me if he liked.

  The Paragon didn’t strike me as the type to do so—he was pretty famous for trying to avoid work, actually. But marrying someone who was most loyal to the Paragon didn’t sit quite right with me, either.

  It’s not like there are any other options. No one in this awful community is a true neutral. They wouldn’t survive.

  It occurred to me, then, that there was perhaps one deadly neutral lord in my Court.

  “Just for curiosity’s sake—and I know he’s not on the lists, but if he were…which list would Lord Rigel be on?”

  Skye shifted her tablet and thoughtfully tilted her head. “Again, neither list.”

  “Really?”

  “He’s the only one in his house,” Indigo said. “His parents and older brother died under ‘mysterious’ circumstances. Mind you, less than a month after their funeral was when he launched his career as an assassin.”

  “Because everyone fears Lord Rigel—and because he is the only member of his line—he has been able to remain outside typical Court politics,” Skye said.

  “Yeah, because no one wants to get on the Wraith’s bad side,” Indigo grumbled.

  Skye cleared her throat and tucked a curl of her chin-length hair behind her ear. “I’ll email the lists to you, if that is acceptable, Queen Leila?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine.” I forced a smile. “Thanks, Skye.”

  Skye nodded and stood up, pushing her chair back a little. She was picking her way through the shades when I called after her.

  “Skye, who would you recommend?”

  Skye passed through the wall of animals before she turned around, her expression contemplative. “Logically, Lord Dion would be the easiest partner,” she said. “He will cause the least trouble, and won’t actively scheme against you since he is a friend of the Paragon’s.”

  I narrowed my eyes, hearing something in her voice. “But?”

  She hesitated. “I’m not certain he would be the best spouse. He would remain loyal and friendly. But I suspect he wouldn’t quite know how to react to your fire—like the majority of the fae.”

  To my fire, huh? I don’t know that I can afford to be sentimental like that, but it still makes me happy Skye notices and thinks about these kinds of things.

  “Thank you, Skye.”

  She bowed. “Of course, Queen Leila.” She strode from the room—all beauty and elegance despite the cat and dog hair that graced the legs of her slacks.

  I leaned back into my chair and groaned. “Am I crazy, Indigo?”

  “Yeah,” Indigo factually said. “But that’s okay. Your Court is filled with a bunch of psychos. They could use your brand of crazy.”

  I laughed. “Thanks.”

  Indigo shrugged and shed her sweater like she tended to do now when it was just the two of us. Today she wore a yellow Hufflepuff shirt, which she fidgeted with. “My Sovereign?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I wanted to offer my help, if you think you need it,” Indigo said.

  “Oh!” I perked up. “Really? I actually do need some help, and I’m fairly certain you’re the only one in my Court who can help me.”

  Indigo pushed her glasses farther up her nose. “With what?”

  “This.” I pulled out a catalog of horse equipment and clothes for riders. “I need, like, three of this helmet—in this size.” I tapped the helmet I’d circled with a red marker.

  Indigo took the magazine, but her forehead was more wrinkled that the clothes sitting at the bottom of my closet. “Why do you need me to get them?”

  “Because I’m guessing based on how much merch you buy online, you have Amazon Prime, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Perfect! That means free shipping—and I checked, it’s the same price on Amazon as it is in the catalog!” I clapped my hands in glee.

  Indigo peered down at the glossy catalog page. “Are you seriously having me order this just so you can save a few bucks on shipping?”

  I scowled. “You have no idea how deep in debt this Court is. Every dollar counts!”

  “Then why are you getting new helmets?” Indigo asked. “I thought Dusk and Dawn found one for you.”

  “Yes, an older one with no head vents. It makes me get as sweaty as a pig, and I’m pretty sure it’s been sitting around for a long time. Who knows if it will actually protect my head when I fall?”

  “You take head damage very seriously,” Indigo said. “I would have thought you’d trust your night mares more.”

  “I trust my night mares. I just don’t trust any of the fae nobles, unless they are unconscious,” I corrected.

  “I see,” Indigo said.

  “Do you mind getting it? I can get you the money right now.”

  Indigo breathed out, making her cheeks puff. “Sure. I’ll order them tonight.”

  “Thank you!”

  I was trying to remember where I’d hidden my wallet, when Indigo continued.

  “I’m happy to do this for you, but when I offered my help, I had something more specific in mind.”

  “Oh?”

  Indigo tugged on the hem of her Harry Potter shirt. “Yes. I was thinking that since it seems like you trust me these days?” She looked up at me for confirmation.

  “I do,” I assured her.

  “Maybe, so you don’t have to eat protein bars and jerky all the time…” She sucked a big breath in. “I could cook for you!”

  I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I know you don’t want to eat anything made by a fae—and after the night at the restaurant I totally understand why. But I’m still concerned about your health, and it doesn’t seem fair that you have to run on such terrible food. I was thinking that I could make your meals. We could keep your food in a locked fridge, and as long as I make it and we banish everyone from the kitchens while I’m finishing so no one can do something to it, it should be safe.”

  I leaned back in my chair, making it creak, and stared dumbly at Indigo.

  “I’m not an amazing cook or anything,” she blurted out. “But I think I’m okay—better than just beef jerky, anyway. And I can only really cook human foods—my mom loves it, that’s how I got introduced to human forms of entertainment.”

  I wasn’t just shocked, I was speechless. I couldn’t help but close my eyes and think. I could eat again. No more choking down fruit snacks for breakfast, or eating an entire cucumber for lunch. I could have food. Cooked food.

  I’m not an emotional person, but I’ll admit that my eyes felt hot, and I knew if I thought about it much longer I was going to start crying.

  Ever since coming to the Night Court my sleep hadn’t been great, and my eating habits were worse. I felt half defeated just waking up in the morning. But if I could eat again…

  Maybe I could teach her how to make coffee.

  “That is, if all of this is okay with you? And I haven’t offended you?” Indigo’s voice was small now, and I realized in my unsurpassed joy I hadn’t done anything to show just ho
w excited I was.

  I almost lunged across the desk. “No—I think it’s an amazing idea. A thoughtful idea! It’s just—no one has been this nice to me since I arrived.” My throat tightened. “And I really, really just want to eat anything cooked.”

  Indigo’s eyes were moon-like, and she sucked her neck into her shoulders under my passionate enthusiasm. But when I finished speaking, she offered me a smile. “I’m glad. I was thinking last night when I decided I was going to offer this that it’s not a common role for a monarch’s companion. But you’re not a common monarch, and I want to support you however I can.”

  I grinned at her. “Even when I’m planning to rile up my nobles?”

  “Especially then.” Indigo rolled her eyes. “Please. The fae might have adopted stuff like cellphones and the internet, but in a lot of ways they’re back in the dark ages. I hope you make them upset—they’re waltzing around like a bunch of regency heroines.”

  “Ah-ha!” I pointed at Indigo. “I think so, too!”

  Indigo sniffed angrily in agreement. She jumped when Steve put her head on Indigo’s lap, then cautiously patted her.

  “Since you’re with me in this, I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” I was so excited, I could barely sit still in my chair. “You know that Court event next week that is supposed to be held at some fancy—and expensive—restaurant?”

  “Yes?”

  I chuckled. “I’ve canceled that reservation and rented out a different location.”

  “Where?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Rigel

  “Mini golf?” Dion gaped up at the sign hanging over the location of our Court social. “Is she for real?”

  I shrugged. “It seems congruent with her twisted sense of humor.”

  “We’re fae,” Dion said. “Does she really expect the nobles to play mini golf?”

  I glanced at my friend. “I was unaware you were such an avid hater of miniature golf.”

  “I’m not—I’ve actually played it before, and it’s pretty fun. But can you picture the likes of Lady Demetria or Lord Thales?” Dion rubbed his forehead and sighed.

  I turned back and looked in the direction of our cars. “Are we not attending, then?”

  “No, we’re going in.” Dion grimly squared his shoulders. “I need to convince her to marry me, and you are my moral support, Rigel. Come on.”

  We went inside, and the new queen had very cunningly set Lord Linus up as the official greeter responsible for explaining the game and giving everyone equipment.

  Lord Linus had always been a Court favorite, and given that he’d managed to avoid making enemies—although he had inspired a lot of gossip given his travels across the human world, much less the fact that he’d married a human and now, apparently, fathered our new queen.

  It was an easy thing for him to sweet talk fae ladies into taking brightly colored golf balls, and hand off ridiculously small golf clubs with a wink to his fellow lords.

  He got Dion and me through the doors in record speed, ejecting us into the strange world of mini golf—a swathe of fake greenery and plastic with unnatural bright colors that assaulted my eyes.

  I stared at the black ball Lord Linus had given me—very original of him—then glanced at Dion. “If you try to make me play, I will kill you.”

  Dion laughed uneasily. “Fear not—I’m not that confident in our friendship. Come on.”

  The mini golf course was a confusing swirl of holes accented with animal statues, miniature architecture, and blue pools of water that likely contained all the filth of humanity.

  Weirdest of all, however, were the fae walking through it.

  Certainly, some of them were reacting as Dion thought they would and were standing on the sidelines, whispering to each other with pinched expressions.

  But many individuals—most of the lords and ladies, in fact—were stalking through the course, clutching sheets of paper and tiny pencils, and swinging their clubs with a great deal more enthusiasm than I’d seen most of them muster up in months.

  “I say—did you try hole twelve? It has a water wheel—very difficult.”

  “I finished it in two shots! But I had trouble at hole eight.”

  “The one with the giraffe statue that’s missing a leg?”

  “Yes! That’s the one—I swear upon my family’s house the missing leg affects the wind speed in that area. Such a cheat!”

  Dion craned his neck, but apparently was unable to see his target. “Give me a second, Rigel.” He hopped on to the base of a smiling hippo statue and peered around.

  I was left to stare at a group of ladies comparing score cards with smugness.

  What is happening to them?

  I felt the muscles of my forehead pull slightly in my temptation to frown in confusion, but I instantly smoothed the expression from my face.

  “I see her.” Dion jumped off the statue. “Come on—she’s near the tenth hole.” He led the way through the crush of the crowd—paths miraculously opened up whenever anyone glanced at us and saw me—and bounded up the stairs built into the hill and nestled between some poorly grown bushes.

  “Queen Leila! How happy you look this evening,” Dion called to her.

  The Queen of the Night Court was wearing a dark purple, lacy sundress and clutching a silver travel mug as if someone might rip it from her. She was also carrying one of those purse-things she seemed to be forever holding, and when she saw Dion she carefully smiled at him—probably taken in by his dazzling charm.

  “Lord Dion—it’s always a pleasure to see you!” she said. “Could have done without you, Rigel, but it is decently enjoyable to see you in the middle of a mini golf course.”

  I blinked. “Fascinating. I was just thinking how this…interesting place suits you.”

  Dion ignored our verbal spar and continued with his planned seduction. “The pleasure of seeing you will always and forever be mine, Queen Leila, for you bring joy everywhere you go.”

  I don’t understand how he’s able to say ridiculous things like that without gagging.

  The queen must not have been paying complete attention to Dion—she didn’t giggle and swoon like most fae ladies would have. Instead, she chortled to herself and smacked her thigh with her purse-thing. “Oh, I would dearly love to hear if today is one of those joyous times!”

  “Did you not move today’s event to this bright place in hopes of inspiring joy?” Dion tactfully asked.

  Queen Leila snorted like a horse. “No. I moved it here because I thought it would annoy everyone! But they’re taking my challenge seriously—which is a lot more satisfying than I ever imagined.”

  “Your challenge?”

  She gestured to the course. “Anyone who gets a higher score than me will receive something from the Night Court Treasury.”

  Dion stared at her. “Really? Are you that skilled at this game?”

  “Not really, but I’ve appointed Chase as my representative, and he’s a regular snake at this.”

  Curious, I glanced at her director of security. The werewolf—his eyes gleaming—hadn’t looked away from me since I had arrived.

  Someone has inspired that famous werewolf loyalty…

  “He has a perfect score,” Leila continued. “The most someone could do is tie with him. But it doesn’t matter—no one has a hope of even coming close.”

  “Why not?” Dion asked.

  Leila took a sip from her silver travel mug. “None of you have played mini golf before. Already the course has lost two lights, a pot of flowers, and one employee—and it’s only been half an hour. It’s going to be carnage by the time the day ends.”

  “Queen Leila.” The steward came tapping up the steps, a look of concern crossing her face.

  Leila lost her air of glee. “Is something wrong?”

  “Somewhat. Lord Iason accused Lady Lysandra of cheating at the fifteenth hole. They’re clogging up the use of that hole, and now Lord Gaios is threatening a duel to clear Lady
Lysandra’s golfing reputation.”

  “I swear.” The queen shook her head. “The fae could make drinking water into an insult-worthy competition. Chase?”

  “My men are on their way there.” The werewolf had his cellphone up to his ear and looked unmovable—I suspect he wasn’t going to leave her side as long as I was around.

  A smart wolf—but unnecessary. I canceled the contract. A frown briefly twitched at my lips. My first failed contract—why do I suspect she would be proud to be such a distinction?

  “Excellent.” Leila clapped. “I apologize, Lord Dion, Lord Rigel, but it seems my presence is needed elsewhere. Enjoy mini golf—or at the very least, the show.”

  She winked with enough charm to match Dion—though she was a bit too mischievous to be seductive—and was hopping down the steps, her director of security following close enough behind her he was nearly stepping on her heels.

  The queen glanced back at her employee. “By the way, Chase,” she said. “I meant to compliment you on your hidden talent of mini golf.”

  “It’s not that surprising, Queen Leila,” the werewolf said as I began to lose their voices to the swirl of sound surrounding us. “Several humans live in my pack, and one of them in particular would frequently drag us to the mini golf course in town.”

  “Ahh, the mystery has been solved,” I heard the queen say before the rest of her words were lost among the noise of the place.

  Dion shook his head as he watched her go. “I know we fae are supposedly mercurial. But she takes unpredictability to a new level.”

  I shrugged. “Something for you to look forward to.”

  My oldest—and only—friend twitched his shoulders back. “She’s nice enough, I’m sure we’ll get along. Come on—let’s go mingle before I come back and try talking to her again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Leila

  I was shocked the mini golf excursion was going over so well. I figured less than half of the fae would play, but—shockingly—the majority of them were having a go at it.

  Skye and—as reluctant as I was to say it—Lord Linus were responsible for a lot of the event’s success.