Trickster Noir (Pixie for Hire Book 2)

by Cedar Sanderson

  “Can’t blame you there. I wouldn’t had I any choice.”

  “Same.” Bella chimed in. “I am not looking forward to a life of this.”

  I nodded. There had to be some way to keep that from happening. “Bella, you mentioned a lady-in-waiting. Can I make a suggestion?”

  That was directed to the king, who looked interested, but puzzled. This was not an area he often paid any attention to.

  “I don’t assign them, you know.”

  Bella broke in. “Lucia suggested Lady Dahlia.”

  “Ah, yes, very sound. Dedicated to the court. Rather staid, not sure what she will think of you, Bella.” Corwin looked a little concerned about that. Bella was certainly not a normal fairy woman, no.

  “I think you should also ask Princess Apple if she is willing to assist you in your daily duties. For instance, I’m fairly sure you don’t have time nor inclination to attend market days and the like, to hand out awards and hostess opening ceremonies.”

  “Um, what?” Bella looked lost. Then she got the abstracted look that meant she was looking it up.

  “I’ve been doing a good bit of reading, and had an idea.” I explained for both her benefit and Corwin. “During the long... illness,” that was as good a name for losing her mind by degrees so gradual it had taken years for anyone to really catch on. “The late queen allowed many traditional activities of her role to fall away. I think Bella reinstating some of them will reassure the more traditional Faerie folk that she is not an enemy from above.”

  “I see. But why Apple?” She had obviously done some quick scanning, as she looked more focused again. I knew she was remembering the rather airy blonde, and not favorably.

  “Maize is not old enough, nor, er, mentally capable enough. Dill is too young, although I do think you should take her under your wing, dear.”

  Bella smiled and gave a little nod of assent. She had taken to the bright little fairy princess. I went on. “Apple has a public mask of flighty, interested only in pleasures of parties and Court. There’s more to her, though, I have caught her off guard from time to time and gotten some very interesting and insightful responses.” Apple had pursued me briskly for quite some time, now. Presumably with Bella in my life she had given up, and if not, we would soon dissuade her. I had the feeling that training her to become my beautiful bride’s spymistress would interest her far more than a broken-down pixie with no magic left to him.

  “And the other two princesses?” Corwin looked very thoughtful. It hadn’t occurred to him, I suspected, to harness the youthful enthusiasms of all of them. We pampered our young far too much, here in Faerie, and it needed to end, if our culture was to survive.

  “Buttercup and Rowan? Rowan is Apple’s friend, but I don’t think she’s faking the dumb blonde routine.” I shrugged, and felt the fatigue, even from just sitting here plotting how to keep Underhill running. No light task, this, and I didn’t know how King Trytion did it. Frequent retreats to his more relaxed persona of Corwin, I guessed. “Buttercup...” I remembered the look on her face when we had met her at the Presentation Ball, and the man she had been in the care of. He was familiar, somehow, but I couldn’t quite place him. “We should keep an eye on her. Nothing substantial, just my gut talking.”

  There was a knock at the inner door and we all looked toward it. Joe came in. “Your next meeting...” he spoke apologetically. “King Trytion and Bella, you have about five minutes.”

  “I didn’t think you meant me.” I grimaced. “I definitely get the better end of this deal.”

  “It’s been productive. We may need to continue soon.” The king stood, and we all rose. I shook his outstretched hand.

  “Not too soon. Although I may be at a party tomorrow night.” I looked at Bella, who nodded.

  “Lucia strongly suggested it. I will be at the other one, but she wanted you with her at Buckingham’s.” She filled in the details for us.

  “My condolences.” Corwin offered, deadpan.

  “When is the coronation?” I asked him, remembering the other big chore looming over us.

  He looked thoughtfully at Bella. “Before, or after the wedding?” he asked.

  “Can we make it after? I’d rather not try to handle two huge events at once, and Lucia seems determined to make the wedding the event of the century or something,” Bella asked, frowning.

  He nodded. “Marrying a duke, especially one who has just reclaimed his titles and land, is a political statement, my dear, one that she means to make the most of with you being the Queen-Consort.”

  I noted he didn’t use the correct title of Consort-elect. He wasn’t going to let her get away. She was my girl, and I wasn’t too sure I wanted her claimed by two men.

  “We will discuss it further when we have time.” King Trytion put his mask on with a slight frown. “The Coronation will take place three months after the wedding of our Duke Mulvaney and the Consort-Elect Belladonna Traycroft. Our will is that they remove for a month following the wedding for a honeymoon, and then attend Us to prepare for the formal preparations.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I couldn’t help myself. He ignored my lese majeste.

  Bella came to me for a quick kiss as he left the room. “I will try to be home earlier tonight.”

  “At least I have a honeymoon to look forward to.” I kissed her thoroughly and let her go.

  Joe came back in the room. “Need a ride?”

  I threatened him with vile things, and he just laughed as he bubbled me and sent me home. Home was where food with substance could be consumed, and I could nap. The good news was that Melcar came by in the afternoon and gave me another spell-healing session. He was his usual opaque self when it came to reading his thoughts on his face, but I could detect a grudging pleasure in my progress.

  “I’m being good.” I sat on the edge of my bed, shirt off, looking at Melcar. “I’m going to keep being good, too. I want to heal quickly, and I’ve taken your warning that too much too fast is a bad thing.”

  He grumbled under his breath, then cleared his throat. “Try to stay out of trouble, Lom. I know, I know...” he held up a hand. “You don’t chase it, it chases you.”

  “Unless you know something I don’t, Doc,” I started to pull my shirt on. “There’s nothing more scary brewing than a wedding. Which is bad enough.”

  “With you...” he began gloomily, and then stopped to shake his head. “I don’t know anything, just that you attract trouble like honey does bees.”

  “I thought that was flies?” I followed him to the stairs.

  “Bees sting.” Having delivered this pointed rejoinder, he bubbled and vanished. I started down the steps.

  Stairs were easier than they had been the day before. I was hoping to make it into the armory before dinner, but Devon popped out of the kitchen when he heard me on the stairs.

  “Hi! I’m supposed to give you a status report and see what I can do for you.”

  “Simmer down and let me grab coffee. Then we’ll talk.” I made my voice grumpy and tried to hide a smile. This was as animated as I had seen him in a while. When I walked into the kitchen I got another surprise. Dorothy was sitting at the table, books and notebooks spread out in front of her.

  “Hello Lo... er, Duke?”

  “It’s Lord Elleria, and no. You call me Lom.”

  I picked up the full coffee pot, blessing the unseen Ash, or Ellie, whichever. “Not that I’m not glad to see you kids, but to what do I owe the honor?”

  “Well, Mother said I’m to be your secretary, and in order to do that I needed to learn more about the Dukedom.” Devon paused with an expectant look.

  “If she meant from me, you’re out of luck, kiddo. I know possibly less than you do, having avoided it since I was old enough to understand how much trouble it would be.”

  He nodded. “It is complex, yes...” He started in on a dissertation about the roles and duties, and I held up my hand after a minute of letting him drone on.

  “Devon, please...�
�� He stopped, looking a little hurt. “No offense, kid. You are learning a lot and I appreciate the effort. But this is what I want you to help with. You learn all that...” I pointed at the stack of papers I presumed were the efforts of their joint research. “And then you become my gatekeeper.”

  “What?” He looked intrigued. Good.

  “Basically, I don’t need to know about it unless it’s truly important. And no, two farmers squabbling over sheep,” I vaguely remembered something coming up in a Council meeting, of all places, about that topic. “Is not important to me. If someone is going to die, or commit treason, then you come to me. Got it?”

  His eyes were very wide. “Um.”

  I softened my voice. “You can do this, you have a good head on your shoulders. I may not be Underhill to call on all the time, and I need you to rely on when I’m gone. You’re not alone, you have your mother and grandmother as well. And Dorothy.” I smiled at the serious girl, and she sparkled a little at my notice. “Although I’m afraid we have a request for her assistance, as well.”

  I saw her surprise, and went on, “I know the Family has no call on you, you are Devon’s friend, no more...” I held up my hand again to squelch the quick response I saw coming from both of them. “You’re too young for more, yet. We’ll talk, later, and I’m not going to separate you. But Dorothy, Bella needs someone to be with her at Court whom she can trust.”

  The dawning comprehension on the girl’s face was amusing to watch. She sat up a bit straighter. “What would I do?”

  “You will have to talk to her. I suspect more than a confidante, she needs a tutor for Faerie. And she’s offered to teach you more about human ways.”

  That got her. The youngster was a born scholar. I continued, “Bella is supposed to be home for dinner, if you can stay.”

  She nodded, definitely sparkling now, and her wings perked up.

  “So what can I tell you now?” Devon mused out loud, riffling through the papers. “I’m not sure what’s important...”

  “Take some time to review it. We’ll chat after dinner. Right now...” I got up and prepared my retreat. “I’m going to get some work done.”

  I fled to my armory. “Peace and quiet,” I muttered to the grenade launcher, still covered in dried mud and moss, once the door was safely shut behind me. I could spend a couple of hours on it, and not think about politics. I knew that dinner would naturally gravitate to that topic, and the wedding. I wanted to see Bella, or I’d just stay down here.

  The Civil Thing to Do

  Sometime the next evening I was wishing again that I had retreated to the armory and nailed the door shut behind me. I’d showed up at Buckingham’s soiree with Margot on my arm and a fake smile plastered on my face. The quiet family dinner the night before was a pleasant memory to keep me going through this torture. I’d decided ahead of time I would find a quiet place and hide amongst the potted ferns. Margot had assured me that my presence was enough.

  “Just show up. I’ll amuse myself, and you don’t need to socialize. In fact...” she eyed me dubiously. “Probably best if you don’t.”

  “Thanks for that, Margot.” I might sound sarcastic, but I meant it. The only thing worse than showing up would be making small talk with Court dandies and their sycophants. Now, in the reception line, I kept my lip zipped and watched with a sardonic eye as Buckingham and his lady - what was her name? - greeted the partygoers with a smile as false as my own. Then it was our turn.

  Her name, it turned out, was Elizabeth, a curiosity no doubt dating back to our late Queen’s obsession with all things British. I wasn’t going to ask. I was busily noting the look on Buckingham’s face as I was presented as Duke Mulvaney. It was like watching someone handed a toadstool sandwich buttered with troll toe jam and expecting them to eat it. His nostrils flared and I wondered with a small amount of glee what he was about to say. He suppressed it, to my disappointment, and settled for a small inclination of his head.

  His wife, on the other hand, pressed my fingertips with her own cold hand, and fluttered a little. “Oh, we had heard you were very ill, Duke Mulvaney, perhaps even...” she gasped a little, “dying.”

  “As you can see, Madam, the rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated.” I bowed over that cold little hand and pressed my lips to her knuckles. She fluttered even more, her wings giving away her deep titillation at my behavior. Buckingham just froze in place, not looking at me whatsoever. So... that was what went on in his household. I tucked the byplay away to be of use later. She played the field, and he pretended not to notice.

  Safely out of the line of incoming aristocracy and their hangers-on, Margot hissed at me. “Wicked! How could you!”

  “How could I not? Buckingham is hardly an ally, dear sister.”

  “Elizabeth is...”

  “Not either.” I finished her sentence. “I have no intentions of entering into some sort of dalliance with her, Margot. I have Bella, and when I have I ever played the games?”

  I declined to dance with her, pleading more fatigue than I honestly felt, and sought out a quiet corner. There were tete-a-tete tables all along one side of the massive room, arranged with potted trees and ferns to create the illusion of a garden indoors, amongst which partygoers could retreat for a tryst or quiet conversation. I was in the mood for neither.

  I settled into a spindly chair, hoping it wouldn’t give out under me, with my back to the wall. I could see a bit of the people going by, and planned to people-watch without mingling. Margot was nowhere in sight, but I hadn’t expected her to sit with me. She enjoyed the social whirl, and it was an asset for House Mulvaney I wasn’t going to give up.

  The voices in my ear from the next table over I shamelessly eavesdropped on. It might be nothing, and I would tune it out, or it might be interesting. Masculine voice, inaudible, then a piping high feminine voice I couldn’t unhear.

  “Did you see Lady Lizabet’s reaction to him? Like a bitch in heat.”

  More manly mumbles. The response, with tinkling laughter.

  “Oh, he’s no threat. They say he’s no more magical than any human, now, and she does so like her meat puppets, you know. Buckingham, the old stick, may fuss and bother, but the tall pixie isn’t really anyone, you know.”

  They were talking about me. I’d heard many times that eavesdroppers got what they deserved, but this hit home. No threat? And I was to be no more than a meat puppet to be used and discarded.

  The woman kept talking, and I couldn’t tune it out.

  “I must admit, I’ve wished he would look my way, in the past, but now that he’s a cripple?” a brief pause, in which I could imagine her shrugging her pretty, bare shoulders, and fluttering her wings coquettishly. “Ugh, how could she? It would be like taking an animal to bed.”

  Now I could hear the male voice. He must have moved closer to her, and the plants that screened me from them. I sat still, not able to move and escape my tormentors.

  “Now, Penny, there was that human a century back...” His deep voice was coldly amused.

  “Oh, if they are well...” she tittered, a grating noise. “But really. Someone who is that damaged? He was once a man of danger, verry sexy.” She drawled the last two words. “Now you, Sir Highsmith...”

  There was no more intelligible sounds for some time, and I guessed Highsmith had gotten what he wanted from the fairy woman who had casually unmanned me. I knew, logically, that Bella was not a product of the education, as it were, that had produced this... female. However, she had to live in this society, and I was not an asset. My name was, now, not the personal, but the title. Me? I should have died that first week after reclaiming it. I don’t know why I held on, when I knew the magic was gone.

  I wanted to be angry, but she was right, I will never be anything but a drag on this society. Better for Bella I had died. Just too damn stubborn and stupid to die. Best for her if they just never saw me again. There have been disappearances from Underhill before, and with my past, it will be a couple of
years before anybody is sure that I’m gone. To blazes with all of them.

  I sat there for some time in silence. A passing waiter put his head in to see if I had any needs, and I almost sent him away before the thought occurred to me.

  “A stiff drink.” I told him. “Make it a double.”

  “You have no preference? Usquebaugh? Brandy?”

  “Whatever comes to hand.” He left me alone, and returned shortly with a glass of amber liquid. I tossed it back, and handed it to him, noting with grim pleasure the look on his face. “Hit me again.”

  “Would sir prefer...” he gestured.

  “Sir would prefer to remain alone, and to drink. Are you a waiter, or a moralist?”

  He left again, and to my relief, returned with the glass, and a bottle that was mostly full.

  “Thanks.” I growled, and slid him a tip. He tucked it away and vanished, himself.

  After the second glass, I slowed to a sip with the third. It was very good whisky, no wonder the lad had looked like that when I shot the first glass. Perhaps allowing myself to dwell on the words of a flutterhead who had trapped the likes of Highsmith at a place like Buckingham’s wasn’t my wisest moment. I finished the glass, eyed the bottle, and decided discretion was the better part of valor. Surely we had been here long enough. The little contretemps in the receiving line was why Margot insisted I come, after all. To be seen. I’d been seen coming, time to be seen going.

  I got up, and looked around the ballroom. There were more people out there than I remembered. We must have come in early, unfashionably on time. I was reminded of a human song about why the lady was a tramp, and smiled. A young lady who had turned at my approach with a smile of her own squeaked, and fled. Showing too much teeth for her, I supposed. I must look rather wolfish, I certainly felt that way at the moment.

  As I circled the room looking for my sister I kept getting snips of conversation. More disconcerting were the conversations abruptly silenced at my approach, and the nervous retreat of mamas with young daughters under their wings. I have never been considered a catch, but this was downright discouraging, what was I doing to Bella’s chances with these people, for her to become a beloved ruler?