She's No Faerie Princess

by Christine Warren

  "But you do hold it."

  Her eyes narrowed. "Reluctantly."

  "Then I'm afraid that despite what I'm sure were your best intentions, things have become rather complicated."

  "Ya think?" Graham bit out. "If Mab gets wind of this and decides to come here to kick our asses, the entire negotiations will be shot to shit. These talks are too important. The last thing we need to do is bring up the ongoing power struggles in Faerie. The humans would run for the hills. No matter what they've told us they're willing to accept, they still expect one or more of us to fly off the handle at any minute."

  "And that's my fault, how?" Walker saw Fiona glaring at the alpha and was glad to know that for at least a few minutes she had directed her ire at another victim.

  "Well, if you folk had sent someone a little more diplomatic to the negotiations to begin with, we might have a bit more room to maneuver."

  "What are you talking about?" Fiona frowned. "The Fae didn't 'send' anyone. As far as I know, no one in Faerie knows these negotiations are even happening. The Summer Court certainly didn't appoint a delegate, if that's what you're implying."

  Walker blinked, startled into silence. He and Graham looked at each other, then looked at Rafael and saw their own surprise mirrored in his expression.

  "What do you mean?" Rafael demanded, frowning in confusion. "Not only did the Fae send a delegate, but he has taken quite an active role in setting the boundaries of the agreement we've been working toward."

  Fiona shook her head. "That's impossible. I'm telling you, my aunt didn't send anyone. What's this guy's name?"

  "Dionnu."

  Fiona's jaw dropped to the floor and bounced twice. "Dionnu? He's here? In Manhattan? Are you serious?"

  "Perfectly." Rafael frowned. "You were not aware?"

  "Hell no! And I can tell you for sure that Mab isn't." Closing her eyes, Fiona rubbed her hands over her face and sank back down to the edge of the sofa. "Goddess, this is so not good."

  Concerned by her reaction, Walker stepped closer and hovered over her. His intention was more macho than that, but he was getting used to his intentions going up in smoke around this woman. "What's the matter? If Mab doesn't know you or Dionnu is here, it's not like she can blame you for any of his actions."

  "That's so not it. You don't get it. It doesn't matter what Mab knows. It doesn't matter what I know. Mab is in Faerie and Dionnu is here and I am stuck right smack-dab in the middle."

  "How do you figure that?"

  Fiona raised her head and looked glumly up at Walker. "You know Queen Mab is my aunt, right?"

  That sinking feeling returned to Walker's stomach. "Riiiiight… ?"

  "Right. Well, the thing is… Dionnu? He's not a representative of the queen. In fact, he's the last Fae in the world she would trust to speak for her. I keep forgetting how far out of the Fae loop you mortals are. Dionnu and Mab were married, briefly and stormily, about three hundred years ago. Half of it was because they were infatuated with each other, but half of it was because neither could resist the idea of uniting the kingdoms. The idea of controlling all of Faerie seduced them both, but it didn't last. They're too much alike. Neither one of them is willing to bow to someone else's whim. They separated a century and a half ago, and as part of the settlement between them, Dionnu took back his title as King of the Unseelie Court. Needless to say, relations between the courts have been something less than cordial for the past few decades."

  "What does that have to do with you?"

  She sighed. "Well, you see… Dionnu's not just the Winter King and Mab's archenemy. He's also my uncle."

  * * *

  CHAPTER 9

  The silence lasted approximately twenty-six millennia by Fiona's calculations. All three men stared at her as if she'd just grown a seventh head and begun devouring small children and little baby bunnies for breakfast. Fiona slumped back onto the sofa and crossed her arms defensively, waiting for the other shoe not just to drop but to plummet from the stratosphere and obliterate the pavement on impact.

  Walker, of course, was the first to get around to yelling at her. "Your uncle? As in, the brother of one of your parents? He's that kind of uncle?"

  She just looked at him, unamused.

  Rafael and Graham each sank into chairs and rubbed their hands over their faces in identical gestures of weariness.

  Walker didn't bother to find a chair. He just put his back against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor, propping his elbows on his knees and shaking his head wearily.

  "Would it have killed you?" he asked, sounding almost dazed. "Would it really have been so difficult for you to mention that not only are you the niece of the Queen of the Seelie Court, but you also happen to be the niece of the King of the Unseelie Court? Was it too much to ask for you to let me know that you're potentially in line for the succession of both the Summer and Winter Thrones of Faerie?"

  Fiona pursed her lips. "You didn't ask."

  "We're asking now," Rafael said. "I believe it would be helpful if you would do us the favor of clearly explaining your place at the courts of Faerie."

  Ugh. Wasn't that just her favorite topic?

  She shrugged. "Honestly, I try to have as small a place as possible. But if you're asking for the family tree, my mother was Annan, Dionnu's youngest sister. She died when I was a child."

  Graham laughed, but Fiona didn't mistake the noise for a sign of amusement. "Perfect. And your father?"

  "His name was Malcolm. He was Mab's eldest brother, but he's been gone since I was a little girl, too."

  Rafael leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out before him, his fingertips rapping a restless beat on the upholstery. Fiona got the idea that if he'd been in Felix form, his tail would have been twitching instead. "I don't ever recall hearing that either the king or the queen ever had children. Did they have any while they were married?"

  "No. But all of their siblings had kids. I'm one of twenty-two nieces and nephews."

  "However, before their deaths, your mother and father were each in line to inherit their siblings' thrones, am I correct? Which would make you fairly prominent in line at both courts, would it not?"

  "No. Well, sort of." Goddess, the last thing she needed was for someone to encourage either of her relatives to speculate on Fiona's position in that particular queue. She hoped like hell that Fate hadn't overheard. "Mab hasn't named anyone heir, and I doubt she plans to release the throne for another few centuries at least. There's plenty of time to deal with that later. As of right now, I'm just one more in a long line of princes and princesses who may or may not ever move up the ranks."

  Rafael sighed. "Your parentage crosses the bounds of the Seelie and Unseelie Courts. Where do you fall in the number of Dionnu's heirs?"

  Fiona stared at him, completely taken aback by the question. "Are you kidding me? Dionnu is as likely to name an heir as I am to renounce magic in favor of a career in the hospitality industry. Someone is going to have to pry the Winter Throne out of his cold, dead hands."

  "But you have as much right to the title as anyone in his court."

  "I suppose. If you want to look at it that way."

  Which she didn't.

  Behind her, she could hear Walker cursing with a good deal of creativity and not a little bit of heat. She tried to ignore him, but considering they probably heard him in Liechtenstein, it posed a challenge.

  "I want to look at it realistically," Rafael said. "I need to know where you stand in the courts in order to understand what's going on here." He held her gaze levelly until she gave a reluctant nod. "So, you didn't know that your uncle was taking part in the negotiations?"

  "I didn't even know there were negotiations. And I'm pretty sure my aunt doesn't, either."

  "I believe this could be classified as less than good."

  "Yeah, Aunt Mab is gonna be pissed." Fiona blew out a breath. "Most of it will be directed at Dionnu, though. Unless you just neglected to inform her of the summit when you t
old him. Then she'll be pissed and offended."

  Rafael scowled. "Of course not. None of us are suicidal, nor particularly brain-dead. We sent an emissary with instructions to visit both courts and to pass on the information that the people of Faerie were invited to join together and provide a delegate of their choosing. When Dionnu presented himself at the first meeting of the summit, that is how he introduced himself—as the Fae delegate. We were a bit surprised to find the king acting in such a capacity, but I thought it was encouraging for our collective bargaining power."

  "And you weren't the least little bit suspicious?" Fiona rolled her eyes. "Sheesh, you've obviously never met my uncle. And this is the perfect proof of why this policy of isolationism is ridiculous. If our borders weren't so damned closed, you would have known not to trust Dionnu when he said he spoke for both courts, and my aunt would have known the negotiations were happening at the outset so she could put her two cents in. All this could have been avoided. The confusion, the unintentional insult. Possibly even the royal temper tantrum that I'm sure I don't have to tell you, you are not going to enjoy."

  "No. You don't have to tell us that."

  "Exactly." Walker gestured to the sofa where Fiona sat. "Which means we have to find a way to get her to safety. I mean… to get her back home."

  "I'm afraid that what to do with Fiona is now not our biggest problem," Rafael said, his mouth twisted into a grimace. "The greater concern is to discover Dionnu's motivations and hopefully to avert a war with Mab before she discovers them herself."

  "Well, there is good news on that end," Fiona broke in. "Since the Faerie gate isn't working, it's a pretty safe bet that no messengers are going to get through to fill her in on what's going on here. That at least buys us some time to figure out a strategy before everything goes all the way into FUBAR."

  Walker stared down at her, then shook his head. "I swear, you use more slang than most fifteen-year-olds I know. It's mind-boggling."

  She stared back and raised a taunting eyebrow. "What? Just because I'm not from here means I can't learn the lingo? Guess what, stewardess? I speak jive."

  She also had an abiding love for movies and DVD players. Humans had some of the neatest ideas for overcoming their lack of magic sometimes.

  "I hope you're right," Graham growled from his armchair beside Rafael. "Because if I suddenly have to muster up the force to repel an invading Fae army, it's going to ruin my day."

  Rafael shook his head. "I believe we're safe from invasion. At least for the moment. But if we want to continue to fend it off, we're going to have to deal with Dionnu."

  He, Graham, and Jake all turned their heads to her and raised their brows expectantly. Seriously. Even the kid. It was eerie.

  "I take it this is a cue for me?"

  "No." Walker crossed his arms over his chest and glowered down at them all. "You don't need to worry about it. I can take care of Dionnu. I'll find out what he's doing here, why he cut Mab out of the action. Maybe he can even offer suggestions for another way to send the princess home."

  Fiona could feel the tension pouring off him, like steam billowing from his ears. In fact, she thought she might see a puff coming from the left one. Or maybe that was a cobweb. Whatever. She didn't need any help to understand that he disliked the idea of her… well, doing anything, actually, but luckily, the other men in the room seemed more inclined to realize she could take care of herself.

  She looked from Walker to the united front opposite him and back again with exaggerated motions. "Sorry, Hoss, but I think you're outnumbered on this one."

  The three stooges nodded in unison.

  "She's right."

  "Completely."

  "She's got you on this one, Uncle."

  "I am, but you have got to stop doing that." She glared at the three of them. "It's just creepy." She looked back at Walker and tried a charming grin. "Look at it this way: if they draft me into dealing with Uncle Dionnu, I won't be in your hair anymore. You won't have to guard your zipper with your life."

  The three heads snapped back to her, eyes widening.

  "What?"

  "Huh?"

  "Go, Uncle Tobe!"

  He actually blushed. Swear to Goddess, right there as Fiona watched, a rush of color crept up the sides of Walker's neck and stained his cheeks faintly pink behind the light tan of his skin. His clear embarrassment was unexpected and utterly charming. Fiona couldn't have kept the grin off her face if she had tried.

  She suspected Walker felt the same about his scowl.

  "I'm more concerned with guarding my sanity around you." He scowled, and the muscles in his jaw jumped with tension.

  "I'm sure it will get easier with practice," Rafael interrupted, breaking the group mentality among him, Graham, and Jake. "I hear most things do."

  Walker's head started to shake before the Felix had finished speaking, but Graham didn't give him a chance to voice his protest. "He's right. First of all, we can't have a princess wandering around on her own, not in the current political climate, and you know it. And more than that, you know exactly what we'd do if Fiona were here on an authorized visit. She'd be appointed a bodyguard, the same way Dionnu was."

  "That doesn't mean it has to be me."

  "Actually, it does." Graham pushed to his feet and leveled his gaze at Walker. Neither man moved closer, but the message came through loud and clear. Clearly enough that even Fiona understood it. If Walker continued to argue, the alpha of the Silverback Clan would quite happily turn his suggestion into a direct order. She suspected neither Lupine wanted it to come to that. "You know her, you know the situation, and you're the best man I have. I let you talk me into assigning Neil to guard Dionnu, but I'm not trusting this one to anyone else."

  "And I'm the only one I can think of who has the slightest chance of getting so much as a peep out of my uncle. Face it," she said, leaning forward and letting her satisfaction show on her face. "You need me."

  Walker turned his head slowly, degree by degree, until he skewered her with his intense, glittering golden stare. At his sides, his hands clenched and unclenched in stark contrast to his stony expression. Under his gaze, a shiver overtook her, and her smile slowly faded.

  "Princess," he said, his voice a low, dark rumble of menace, "there are many things in this world I need, and if both of us are very, very lucky, you won't ever have to find out what they are."

  Swallowing the unaccustomed bundle of nerves rising in her throat, Fiona put on her best game face and shrugged with nonchalant grace. "There's all kinds of luck, furry man. Let's go see if yours and mine have anything in common."

  * * *

  CHAPTER 10

  Fiona tipped her head back and surveyed the elegant black tower that rose in front of her. At her back, the sounds of Manhattan traffic mingled with the rustling of Central Park. Subdued bronze numbers glowed against the building's dark edifice, and the dark green awning that stretched out from the entrance cast a cool, sheltering shadow across the sidewalk. "Yup." She nodded. "This looks like Uncle Dionnu." At her side, Walker had ceased to vibrate with frustration, but she almost would have preferred that to the granite silence of disapproval he'd been carrying around ever since. He stood at her side, silent and stoic, and said not a word.

  "Not that Uncle Dionnu looks like a high-rise," she continued, filling in the silence. "I mean, he's Fae. Have you ever seen a bulky Fae? But he certainly likes the better things in life, and since he seems to consider the human world to be a slum to begin with, if he were going to spend time here, it would definitely be in a place like this."

  She looked up into Walker's face, pursed her lips, and returned her gaze forward. "Right, then. Maybe we should go in?"

  She took his rumbled grunt for an assent. No matter how he might have meant it.

  Five steps took her up to the smoked-glass doors at the building's entrance, but the doorman prevented her taking any more. He stepped into her path, his scarlet and gold frock coat covering shoulders of intimidatin
g breadth. His gloved hands remained clasped loosely in front of him, but his meaning came across loud and clear. He intended to keep his own gate well secured.

  "Can I help you, miss?"

  His tone was coolly polite, his accent pure Brooklyn. Fiona tried a charming smile. "I just stopped by to pop in on my uncle. He's staying in the building while he's in the city."

  "His name?"

  "Mr. MacLir."

  The face didn't move. "Is he expecting you?"

  She added a few bats of her eyelashes and cursed the damn demon for taking up so much of her magic. "I'm sure he must be. I always visit when we're both in Manhattan."

  "And your name is?"

  "Fiona… Malcomson."

  "One moment, please."

  Keeping one eye on her, or more specifically on her and the decidedly menacing male beside her, the doorman stepped over to the stand at the right of the entrance and pulled out a clipboard. He began rifling through the pages, and Fiona turned to Walker, her smile fixed in place. As soon as the doorman looked through the admittance list and failed to find her name, their chances of getting in the door would go up in smoke. There was only one way to deal with this.

  She sidled closer beside Walker and wrapped her arms around an unyielding one of his. "Walker," she murmured through clenched teeth. "I need you to do me an itty-bitty favor."

  His eyes blazed down at her, reflecting all the ruthlessly controlled aggravation he'd stuffed down inside him. If he kept that up, he was just begging for an ulcer. "I don't think this is the time to—"

  She rolled her eyes and reached up to cup one hand around the back of his neck. "Okay, two favors. First of all, shut up. Second…"

  Rising up on tiptoes, she gave a sharp tug and dragged him into the kiss before he had time to think of a way to stop her.

  She should try the ambush tactic more often. It certainly got results. By the time he convinced himself he ought to be protesting, even he had to realize it was way too late for that. She already had her fingers wound up in his hair, her tongue tangled with his, and her body pressed up against his stiff frame. He had no choice but to stand there and take it like a man.