The Consort: A Fae Hunters Novella (The Fae Hunters Book 1)

by Suzanne Johnson

  Faulk read for a moment. Damn. “Christof wants us to find his sister, Princess Kirian. She’s slipped out of the Winter Palace again.”

  “She the one who’s been under house arrest for the past couple of years?”

  Faulk nodded. “Yeah, she’s quite the escape artist. Apparently, she’s been screwing one of Florian’s aides and Christof is worried the pillow talk will get out of hand.”

  Christof, the Winter Prince of Faerie, and his brother Florian, the Summer Prince, were in a bullshit, one-upmanship contest to see who Queen Sabine would name as her successor. The old witch couldn’t last much longer. All the high-season royals were fruitcakes, but in Faulk’s experience, Christof had a few less nuts in his fruitcake than his older brother.

  Each of the princes wanted Faulk’s support in his bid for the monarchy. The backing of the Fae Hunters would be an important asset should the queen die and the brothers choose to fight for the throne. He had no interest in taking sides or, for that matter, having anything to do with the politics of Faerie.

  “This one needs a seasoned Hunter.” Faulk scrolled through the contact list on his phone. He loved technology; faeries on the whole either loved or hated it. “How about Jaime?”

  “I dunno.” Romy scratched at his dark beard. “He’s had run-ins with Florian in the past. Anything to do with the high princes makes my skin crawl. How ’bout I take that one?”

  Faulk had been thinking the same thing. “We’ll split up the hunt so we find her in less time. Of course, Kirian can’t be hurt, no matter what she does—not a hair on her pretty red head. We’ll just truss her up and take her back to the Winter Palace. Then she’s Christof’s problem again.”

  “Did our illustrious Prince of Winter have any idea where she’d go?”

  Faulk shrugged. “He thinks she’ll go north in search of cooler weather—maybe Canada. I disagree. I think she’ll stay here in New Orleans; it’s hot as hell in September, as we both know, so it’s the last place one would expect her to hide, especially with the Hunters based here. She might try to go to Houston or Atlanta, but my gut says she won’t travel. She doesn’t know human culture well enough to blend in anywhere else.”

  New Orleans wasn’t a large city, but it was jaded. Nobody batted an eyelash at eccentricity here. Abnormal was normal.

  “Besides, my guess is that she isn’t running away so much as acting out.” Faulkner put the papers back in their envelope. “She wants to pull Christof’s chain. Last time she ran away, she simply went to the Spring Palace and hid in an unused room until she got hungry and was caught by the cook.”

  “Sounds like one of the high royals. Bunch of loons, the whole lot of ’em.” Romy got up and looked out over the bar. “I’ll head out early, if it’s okay, and get my gear. I can take a stroll around the Quarter before the bars close. It’s almost midnight.”

  Faulk handed him the retrieval order. “Take the paperwork since you’re getting a head start. I’ll close up the bar. Start with the upscale hotels and see if you can feel any faery magic; she’ll project a lot. Plus, the princess has plenty of access to money and has escaped enough to know how to get faery gold converted. I have yet to meet a royal who’d go cheap.”

  Romy folded the order and stuck it in the back pocket of his jeans. He was halfway to the door when he stopped and whistled, still looking down on the bar. “Of all the gin joints in all the world, that whiskey dick had to walk into yours.”

  “You need to work on your Bogart.” Faulk stood up and walked to the window. “Who are you talking about?”

  “Look to the left of the door.”

  Faulk shifted his gaze and riveted on a slim man with slightly upturned green eyes and over-processed blond hair. “Aw, fuck.”

  Florian, the Faerie Prince of Summer, was paying his first visit to The Hunt Club. That couldn’t mean anything good.

  4

  LIA SAT ON A WOODEN bench overlooking the wide river she had read about many times in the library of Faerie: the Mississippi. A thick fog had settled over the lazy, but treacherous-looking, current. At least two dozen ships had passed since she arrived, most of them massive metal structures loaded with containers, but a few carrying hundreds—maybe even thousands—of humans. They all seemed happy.

  She’d always wanted to visit the human side of the veil, but not in this way. Not as a refugee. The price of staying in Faerie as the consort to the Prince of Summer, however, had been too high. When the Royal Escort had taken her to the home of her bowing, fluttering, deceitful parents, Lia had requested privacy so that she could pack her meager belongings and ready herself for a night of passion with the prince. The very idea made her want to break something.

  Instead, she’d climbed out her second-story window, across the branch of a broad oak, and down to the ground, running as fast as she could to the Caves. As long as she could remember, the Caves—a literal warren of holes in the mountains outside the grounds of the Autumn Palace—were rumored to have a permanent opening in the veil to the human city of New Orleans. The shortest route to human-side.

  It had taken her about fifteen minutes to reach the Caves, and another fifteen to find the opening—a barely discernible ripple in a dark corner of the last cave’s back stone wall. The guard had been asleep, a bottle of wine tipped over beside his leather boot.

  She’d reached a hand through the ripple to test it. When she’d been able to pull back her hand without suffering pain or disfigurement, she’d taken a deep breath and propelled herself through headfirst, right onto the sidewalk of the human city.

  One would think a maiden suddenly appearing on her not-misshapen ass in the middle of a sidewalk would attract attention from the many humans wandering through the streets, but they simply walked around her, deep in their own conversations. She climbed to her feet and retrieved her basket, into which she’d packed a change of clothes, her jewelry samples, and a few toiletries.

  Unsure where to go next, she had walked along the street named Dumaine until she’d reached the river. Around her, humans wore clothing like those she’d seen in the library magazines. Lia should have attracted a crowd with her long, embroidered dress and basket, but no one paid her any attention. Humans must be either very tolerant or self-absorbed. Less attention was good for her, however.

  She needed to make a plan, but where to begin? Would Prince Florian bother trying to find her? She thought he would, not because she was so valuable but because her escape, if it became public, would make him look foolish.

  Faeries hated ridicule worse than death itself. Especially Faerie royalty from the high-season houses.

  The Fae Hunters—known for their hunting skills and their brutality toward their prey—were said to be based in this very city, however, which meant Lia needed to leave the area as soon as she could figure out how. Perhaps if she could discover where all of these ships docked, she could stow aboard one of them. They all looked to be made of metal, which gave her an automatic advantage in eluding the Hunters. No doubt they’d learned ways around the metals that couldn’t be tolerated by their kind, but it had to slow them down.

  But in order to learn where the ships docked, she’d have to engage a human in conversation. Faeries had long been schooled in human languages, and most in the capital spoke English—the Queen’s orders, in honor of human popular culture. She’d never been able to see a real human, much less talk to one. What an exciting prospect!

  Lia left the dark riverfront and walked back toward the lights of an outdoor cafe. Many people sat at round tables beneath a canopy of bright green and white stripes. The name on the sign read Café du Monde, and the aroma of the food and drink—rich, fried food, sugar, and coffee—made her stomach rumble with hunger.

  A couple rose from a table near the corner and turned toward Lia, but they passed by before she worked up the courage to speak. They had left part of their food behind on their table, however, so she looked around and quickly took the woman’s chair, stuffing the leftover morsel into
her mouth. It was some sort of fried bread, crunchy on the outside and soft inside, and had been covered in a sweet white powder.

  Lia had read or heard little about human foods, but this seemed exceptional. Then again, she was starving.

  A young wait-servant wearing a white apron stopped next to her. “Were you sitting here earlier, ma’am?”

  If Lia could bluff her way out of the Royal Tower, she could do so here. “My friends will be back in a moment.”

  The girl shrugged and turned to leave. “Wait.” Lia took a deep breath as the server turned back to her, eyebrows raised. “These ships that pass by on the river. Where do they come from?”

  “Say what?” The young woman had beautiful brown skin and eyes, and wore bracelets that Lia itched to examine more closely. “They come from all over the world. N’Orluns is an international port.”

  She turned to leave, but Lia reached out and touched her arm. “Please wait. I mean, where is the dock?”

  “There’s docks all up ‘n’ down the river.” The woman pulled her arm away, but didn’t appear alarmed. “Try the port—it’s at the foot of Canal Street. The docks aren’t safe this time of night, though—wait until tomorrow. They’re down that way.” She waved her arm in the direction perpendicular to the area where Lia had landed in the city.

  The human wait-person walked away, and Lia finished the food left on both plates, then drank the bitter coffee. She’d handled her first human conversation awkwardly, but she’d learned what she needed. She wasn’t worried about whatever danger the woman thought she might find at the docks. She would simply find a ship, slip aboard, and hide until it got to wherever it was going.

  First, she needed to find the port. The sign on the street adjacent to the restaurant read Decatur, and automobiles filled every inch of the pavement. Real vehicles were virtually nonexistent in Faerie because no one had figured out how to make them without metal, but they’d all seen photographs. Every human must own one of them, however, judging by the number of vehicles creeping along the street in all sizes and colors.

  Lia began to walk opposite the direction of the automobiles, occasionally stopping to glance in shop windows. Loud music blared from some doorways, while from others wafted scents ranging from savory foods to floral incense. Lights in all colors of the rainbow blinked on and off, or shone like daylight from windows.

  The sweet trill of a saxophone sounded from the door of a business on the corner. The soft, mellow notes brought Lia to a stop, but it was the scent of roasting meat that drew her to the doorway. The establishment was lit with soft candles on the tables, which had been set with fine plates and utensils of silver. Would they exchange a meal for her jewelry? Humans wouldn’t care about the metallic properties, but the gemstones of Faerie surpassed those found human-side, or so she had been told.

  A short, tidy man wearing a black suit with a bow tie approached her with raised eyebrows. His disapproving glance down at her gown, crisp and bright this morning but now rumpled and marked with spots of dirt, clashed with his words. “Might I have the pleasure of escorting you to a table for one, ma’am?”

  Lia backed up and turned to flee, but a voice piped up from a table near the door. “No, she’s with me. Here I am, dear!”

  Lia peered around the man at a beautiful woman who sat at the table alone. She had jet-black hair that hung in a shiny, straight sheet to her shoulders, and brown eyes with a familiar tilt. Faery.

  The woman walked over to hug Lia, and dropped her voice so no one else could hear. “Sit down, dear. What is your name? Your name in Faerie.”

  “Thank you, but I should leave.” Lia tried to pull away again, until the woman’s appearance rapidly shifted. Instead of a raven-haired beauty, she’d become a red-haired, exotic woman with high cheekbones and all-too-familiar green eyes. Lia had never met the Princess Kiran, but she recognized the youngest sister of princes Florian and Christof. She’d seen her in royal processions for most of her life.

  As quickly as Kirian had changed her appearance, she changed it back. Only a high-season royal had the strength of magic that would allow such drastic and rapid changes.

  “Sit down.” Kirian’s voice was not unkind. “If you’re on the run and are afraid I’ll turn you in to the Hunters, chew on this: I’m not supposed to be here either.”

  Lia pulled out one of the chairs and sat. As if by magic, a white-shirted wait-person appeared at her elbow. “Give her one of everything I ordered,” Kirian told him and, just as quickly, he disappeared.

  “But you’re of the royal family, and I am not,” Lia said. She felt as if she should bow or curtsy or something, but now that the shock had passed, she recalled the tales that Kirian escaped across the veil with some frequency, always to be retrieved by the Hunters. Both she and her older sister, Tamara, were said to be living at the Winter Palace with Prince Christof.

  “That’s bulltripe.” Kirian waited while the server, as she called the wait-person, set bowls of a dark, savory stew in front of them, then whispered, “Humans use metal utensils. Do you need gloves? They need to be lined with something heavy—leather is best.”

  Lia shook her head. “I am Liandra, daughter of Caerne the Metalworker. We have enough human blood to handle metal.”

  “Damn lucky, that.” Then Kirian’s fake-brown eyes widened. “Wait. You’re the one Florian chose for his annual consort, aren’t you? Christof and Tamara and I were surprised that he chose someone outside the court, but we’ve quite given up on understanding our older brother. Well, well, well. This is quite interesting.”

  Not knowing how to answer, Lia remained silent and wondered whether she needed to run as fast as possible toward the port.

  Kirian lifted a spoonful of the stew to her mouth. “Stop looking like you’re ready to bolt. I’m the last person who’d turn you in. No woman in her right mind would want to spend private time with Florian; he’s a royal jerk. Eat your gumbo.”

  Lia couldn’t stop the laugh that burst from her, then held her breath to see if Kirian would be offended. Instead, the princess grinned. “Christof’s an overbearing tyrant and a stick-in-the-mud. Florian’s a crazed ass. Aunt Sabine is an ancient, raving lunatic. My sister Tamara is hiding out at the Winter Palace because she called the queen a decrepid shrew. Never mind that Sabine is a decrepid shrew.”

  She paused. “That’s the nicest things I can say about my family. Do you like your family?”

  Lifting a spoonful of the gumbo to her mouth, Lia hazarded a taste and found it savory and rich with spices she couldn’t identify. “Not at the moment. When they aren’t complaining that my nose is too big and my freckles too ugly and how I’ll never find a husband, they’re apparently conspiring to trade me to your brother for a horse.”

  “Bastard.” Kirian stared at her, then shook her head. “Florian is such a cretin. And you’re not ugly at all; you’re quite striking, in fact. Did it not occur to you that Florian wouldn’t have chosen you if he didn’t find your looks pleasing? I’d kill for your figure.”

  Lia thought that highly unlikely, but a kind thing to say. And she knew exactly what parts of her body Florian found pleasing.

  They finished their gumbo with idle chitchat, then waited while the server whisked away their bowls and replaced them with plates of... “What is this?”

  “The locals call it crawfish etouffée,” Kirian said. “It’s full of things we can’t get in Faerie, and quite delicious.”

  Lia took a bite and agreed. “I should tell you that I have no money, but I can pay you with one of the bracelets I’ve made.” She sighed. “Talk about idiots. I thought I was being summoned to the palace because the queen wanted to wear some of my jewelry or buy it for her courtiers.”

  Kirian waved her spoon in the air. “Don’t worry about the money. I have plenty. But I’d love to see your bracelets, if they’re faery-friendly. I love jewelry. Let’s go back to my room. Then we need to figure out what two women on the run from the Fae Hunters are going to do. Strength i
n numbers, yes?”

  Lia smiled and relaxed for the first time since receiving the queen’s summons. What an unexpected ally.

  After dinner, Kirian paid the server and stood. Lia was shocked, then jealous, that the woman wore denim trousers like those she’d seen in the human magazines and on so many humans on the street. She’d been too frightened to notice earlier.

  “Follow me and walk quickly,” Kirian told her at the door. “It’s only two blocks but the Hunters might be looking for me by now—or you.”

  The thought was enough to make Lia forget her fatigue and keep step with Kirian. They entered an opulent hotel lobby filled with marble floors, sparkling glass and furnishings of dark polished wood and rich brocades. “It’s called the Royal Orleans,” Kirian whispered, leading Lia up a short marble staircase to a lift that appeared to be made of metal. “Would you push the button? That way I don’t have to put my gloves back on.”

  The ride to the fifth floor of the hotel was much more pleasant than the twirling nightmare of the stairway to heaven. Kirian paused outside the elevator and again before entering the door to her room. “I’m making sure I can’t sense any lurking Hunters,” she whispered.

  Lia had always envied her pure-blooded fae acquaintances their ability to sense the presence of faery magic. She couldn’t do it, but being able to touch metal without thick gloves was more than a fair payoff.

  “All clear.” Kirian handed her the key card and showed her how to use the card slot. “Might as well let you turn the metal doorknob since you can do it.”

  “Do you think this hotel is safe from the Hunters?” Lia wandered around the room, looking with great interest at the gold- and cream-striped paper covering the walls, the gold-framed drawings, the warm oak of the bed covered with thick floral linens, a vase of fragrant yellow blooms on a glass table. “This is lovely.”

  “I hope it’s safe for tonight at least. It depends on how long it took Christof to discover I’d slipped out of the palace. He’s been spending a lot of time dealing with political matters recently, so perhaps he isn’t yet aware I’m gone. If he is, he’ll have summoned Falconer already since he’s here in the city.”