"You were right not to. Do you know she stole from me?"
I hated talking about her, but he had piqued my interest. I stopped drumming my fingers. "Okay, tell me the story. I find it hard to believe that a human could rip you off."
"After we had worked together for a while, I found her showing more and more interest in exactly how my tricks worked. Most of my act was normal human misdirection and escapology. Real magic powered a few of my more impressive tricks.
"She kept insisting on learning about my tricks, and she was getting angry over the tricks that couldn't be explained. In particular, she was interested in my flight-of-birds card trick."
"Which one is that?"
Instead of answering, Mason gestured and suddenly had a full deck of cards in his hands. A quick shuffle, then he held the deck lengthwise between thumb and middle finger of his right hand. He pushed with his forefinger on the deck, bending all the cards, then released as he twisted his hand.
I expected the cards to fly all over the room. Instead, they halted in mid-air, each hovering vertically in place, supported by tiny gusts of air magic that I could barely discern.
"That's amazing," I said. "I could probably do one or two like that…" My voice trailed off as Mason gestured again. The flying cards moved in unison, rearranging in mid-air to form the outline of a dove, then a partridge, and finally an eagle.
Then the pasteboard eagle flapped his wings once to rise in the air, folded, and the deck of cards flew back to Mason's waiting hand one by one. I barely noticed the deck of cards disappear.
"That trick took me several days to perfect," said Mason.
"I want to try it," I said. My fingers itched to work with magic. That stuff was addictive.
He produced the deck again and spread the cards. "Take a card, any card."
I pulled out a card at random. It was the queen of hearts. "Another joke?"
"You'll always be my queen of hearts."
I shoved the card back into the spread on the left side and pulled another from the right-hand side of his spread, watching his fingers carefully.
"Another queen of hearts," I said. "Is that whole deck the same card?"
He riffled the deck in front of my eyes, and it was a standard suite. "You'll always be my queen of hearts," he repeated.
"Okay. Let me try this floating card trick." I held the card up vertically, gathered power, and willed air to blow on either side of the card, hoping the balanced airflows would keep the card upright as I pulled my fingers away.
I gritted my teeth at the effort. "This is like trying to thread a needle with catcher's mitts on each hand."
"Okay, now make the card move."
I took a deep breath and willed air to push as lightly as possible on one side of the card, hoping the card would float away from me slowly.
Instead, a short sharp gust of wind, nearly tornado force, blew the card across the room at super-speed. The card impacted the plasterboard edge-on and buried itself halfway.
"Just a bit too much air, Luna. Would you like to try again?" He offered the spread of cards again.
"No, I'm not ready. I don't have enough control yet. Maybe after the cubs are born." The thought of how busy our lives were now, and how much busier they soon would be, left me despondent about ever progressing with magic. There was so much to learn.
Mason noticed the look on my face. "Don't be disappointed. I've used magic since puberty. You've only studied for two years. You've made remarkable progress."
He walked over and tugged the card out of the wall, breaking out a chunk of plasterboard at the same time.
"And you're very strong with the air element." He gestured, and the chunks of plasterboard flew back in place and smoothed over, leaving the wall unblemished.
Mason sat at the table and slid the card back into the deck. He palmed the deck, and it vanished.
"Anyway, back to my story. David Copperfield offered me a million for the secret to the flight-of-birds trick."
"That's a lot of money for a card trick."
"Between magicians, if one sells a trick, the bargain is that the selling magician never does the trick again. Losing an impressive trick permanently is worth a lot of money."
"But this trick uses real magic. Wait! Are you saying that David is a real magician?"
"No, he's strictly human. Brilliant and talented, but no magical talent. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't sell the trick. But Zanna overheard our conversation, thought she could make a killing by selling the secret to my trick, then stole my magic deck."
"But the magic isn't in the cards, it's in you. The trick wouldn't work for anyone else."
"It's possible to charm objects, like I did with those good-luck charms for Logan's girls. But we don't do it often. It's bad practice to leave charmed objects lying around."
"So the deck she stole was worthless?" I smiled at the thought of the larcenous little swindler trying to sell that mundane deck of cards.
"Eh, she got ten grand for it. David turned her down, but she found another stooge."
"Really? What kind of idiot would hand ten grand over to someone without ensuring the trick works?"
"She can be very convincing." Was that a wince on his face? Had Zanna convinced Mason into a relationship?
I pushed down a flash of jealousy and banished Zanna from my thoughts. "Never mind. She's the past. We need to discuss the future. Finish the story about your spurned potential brother-in-law."
Mason took a sip of coffee and pursed his lips. I ignored the tantalizing smell of his drink and sipped my juice. "His name is Briar Frostroot. He's from an old, established family. Unfortunately, he is not well-endowed—"
Mason halted at my snicker, gave me a reproving look, and continued, "—not well-endowed magically. Mother wanted her daughters to only match with powerful magicians, hoping the next generation would provide higher quality heirs."
"Kind of presumptuous, don't you think? Your sisters are strong in magic, but nowhere near as strong as your mother or you. Why not let them be happy with some mid-powered magician?"
Mason gave me his quizzical expression. "You think my mother cares about her offsprings’ happiness? Or that she would place her hopes on her only male child to produce a 'worthy heir?'"
"Point taken." I paused, struck by a random thought. "Couldn't this Briar guy have picked another of your seven sisters? Aren't they all the same, since they're magical clones?"
"You've met them; hell, you've fought them. They're all different. The cloning process doesn't create exact duplicates." He paused, then smiled. "Some of them are even nice."
"I'm surprised she didn't keep trying. Your mother doesn't seem to be the type to give up after failure." Okay, seven failures.
Mason took a deep breath. "Mother broke a lot of Fae laws creating my sisters. After the seventh sister was born, it was clear Perla was using forbidden magic to clone herself. Only the intercession of Queen Mab prevented her from losing her throne and having my sisters destroyed."
Mason took another sip of coffee, then continued. "So my sisters are not alike. Briar found himself attracted strongly to Alexandrite. He presented himself to Mother as a potential suitor. Mother checked his level of magical ability and deemed him unworthy."
"So that's how he ended up on Earth."
"No, not all rejected suitors get exiled. Briar pleaded his case directly to Alexandrite, hoping she would accept him and defy Mother's wishes. Unfortunately, she agreed with Mother about his potential. She informed Mother that Briar wouldn't take no for an answer. Mother called him to court and exiled him to Earth."
"And now he's suddenly a very well-connected lawyer here in Las Vegas. Even with his low magical ranking."
"A little magic goes a long way on Earth," said Mason. "He's also very, very sharp. And it wasn't 'suddenly;' he's been here for over fifty years."
"Fifty years? He came here before you were born? How do you know this story?"
"My sisters used to laugh abo
ut Briar and his unrequited love for Alexandrite. It was the stuff of family legends."
"And you think this old, weak fairy is our best bet to handle human bureaucracy?"
"He's very well-connected, very rich, and very smart. I think he would be perfect."
"Okay, you've convinced me. Let's set up a meeting."
8
It was early evening when we were escorted to the door by the lawyer's assistant, an elderly woman with bright green eyes, silver-gray hair pulled back in a bun, and warm manners. A chain around her neck held a pair of reading glasses. She smelled human at first, but after two or three good whiffs, I detected the faintest trace of Fae. Did the scent of fairy fade as they aged on this side of the veil?
I squinted at her rounded, human ears, and couldn't tell if she was human or Fae.
Attorney Briar Frostroot met us at the door to his huge office. "Thank you, Miss Applemint. I'll call if we need anything else." He was tall for a Fae, nearly Mason's height, with a slim build and precise manners. Raven black hair and blue eyes that had the slightest trace of magician violet in them. His scent was strange: Fae, but he smelled much older than he looked.
He shook Mason's hand and muttered greetings in Fae, ignoring me, although I could sense his darting glances. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, scenting recent visitors, living plants, and not the slightest trace of iron. Emerald green moss covered the floor, thicker than any carpet.
I opened my eyes and looked at the window. Yes, tempered glass, easily shattered. Satisfied that I could escape, I turned my attention to Mason and the counselor. Both men were staring at me, Mason with amusement and Frostroot with narrowed eyes.
Mason skipped the history lesson, presenting bare facts. "I'd like to introduce my wife, Princess Luna."
Frostroot was sharp. He looked at my belly, put it together with my claimed status, and said, "So you're having a daughter? Congratulations. I've never heard of a werewolf joining the royal family."
"Werewolf? Whatever made you think that?"
He chuckled as if I had made a joke. "All werewolves do the same thing when they enter a new space. Freeze within bolting range of the door, sniff deeply to identify any threats, then plan on an exit. You're safe here; no one will attack you."
He was sharp and knew more about werewolves than Mason had when we first met.
"So, tell me, Counselor Frostroot: If it's so safe here, why do I smell witches? Are there some surprises in store for us?" I stroked the invisible strap of my camouflaged bag and considered bringing out one of my own surprises. Even fairy sight couldn't see, or see through, this material.
"No, not at all. I mediate disputes between supernatural factions here in Las Vegas. My position requires that I treat everyone equally." His scent and expression conveyed how much he disliked witches. "I can assure you there are no surprises here."
"And plan for an exit? How did you determine I was planning for a safe exit?"
"I saw you stare at the window. I should warn you, it is shatterproof. And even if it wasn't, I don't know how you would survive a five-story fall."
"I'd throw you out first and use your body as a cushion."
He chuckled, then his face froze when he realized I wasn't joking. His fingers moved slightly but stopped at my glance. Any spells he could muster wouldn't affect a werewolf.
Something strange happened when he gathered magic. His raven black hair faded to white, his face wrinkled, and liver spots appeared on his hands. Was he using some kind of glamour to cover his aging? His magic attack faded, and his appearance returned to normal. Mason had mentioned that normal Fae started aging on this side of the veil.
He covered for the awkward moment by extending his hand and saying, "Welcome, Princess Luna. What can I do for you?"
"We're in need of representation. We'd like to discuss retaining you."
Frostroot gestured at his desk. "Well, let's sit down and discuss it. Although, I must warn you, I have a very full schedule."
"Do you mind if I remove my shoes? It's a shame to tread over this lovely moss and not feel it."
"Please make yourself comfortable. Would you like to shift? Although that would make communication difficult."
I slid off my flats and stood on the moss for a moment, luxuriating in the feel of nature under my soles. Even a super-strong werewolf woman's feet ache when pregnant. But this moss was perfect, almost a foot massage.
As I walked toward his desk, I said, "I prefer staying human for now, but thank you for your offer." I wasn't about to let this sharp character know I was stuck in human form until after the children were born.
Once settled, I jumped in to my first concern. "I'm not a lawyer or an expert," I said in my most guileless voice. "But isn't there something called 'lawyer-client privilege' that would prevent you from divulging anything we discuss?" At his look, I added, "I saw it on TV."
"That's correct, Princess. Once I accept your retainer, our communications will be privileged."
"So, let's get you a retainer. Then we can talk freely." I reached into my invisible bag and pulled out the five-pound gold nugget I’d taken from our mine. It thunked on the oak table with a satisfying sound.
Frostroot's eyes twinkled momentarily, then he wrinkled his nose at my offering, as if I had dumped a dog turd on his desk.
"I thought fairies couldn't lie," I said.
Mason and Frostroot shared a look. Mason said, "Luna, there's lying and then there's bargaining. While bargaining, it's accepted that stretching the truth is allowed."
"Plus, I said nothing," added Frostroot. "Human gold, while slightly tempting, isn't enough to retain my services."
"So how does it work for a lawyer who can't lie? Doesn't that mean you would lose most of your cases?"
Frostroot chuckled. "Lawyers seldom get put on the stand for cross-examination. I also have dozens of human attorneys who work for me. They handle the prevarication."
"Interesting. So gold nuggets aren't enticing to you?"
"I'm afraid not, Princess."
"Would pure gold be better?" I reached into my invisible bag again. Frostroot followed my hand, like a magician eager to steal another magician's trick. He looked disappointed when my hand came out filled with gold Krugerrands, either from missing the trick or from his opinion of human gold.
I stacked up the coins, five to a stack four times: twenty ounces of gold.
"Still, it's only human gold. I have clients who would pay ten times that for an hour of my time," said Frostroot.
I looked at Mason. "Maybe he's not as sharp as you thought. He thinks these are standard Earth gold."
The hint was enough for Frostroot to snatch up a coin. He stared at it for a second, then put it under his nose and sniffed deeply. "Isotopically pure!"
Then he abruptly halted and replaced the coin on its stack. "It's nice, but not something that would make me want me to get involved in disagreements between werewolves and the royal family."
Time to change tactics. And personality. Luckily, I had several different personalities to choose from.
I spoke in Fae, using the mode dedicated to interactions between a royal and a skilled tradesman. "We would appreciate any help you could provide." I used the royal "we," to let him know he was dealing with me, not Mason. "Your skill and knowledge would contribute to our enterprises on this side of the veil."
His eyes darted around as he reviewed the comments he had made in Fae to Mason. After a moment, he relaxed; it had all been normal chit-chat.
Forced to respond in the same mode, he said, "Princess Luna, I apologize for not addressing you correctly. You speak our language extremely well, much better than any human or werewolf I have ever encountered. I would naturally be honored to assist. However, the constraints of my previous commitments make it virtually impossible to represent your highness."
So the answer was still "No." I shifted to intimate mode, used between friends or close colleagues. "Briar, please call me Luna. And if I pay thee not in go
ld?"
"Not in gold? What could—" His eyes darted to my belly. "Well, if you were to oblige your firstborn—"
My claw was out and an inch from his right eye. I shifted back to a more formal mode, a princess reprimanding a commoner, and said, "We will never trade our children for anything." I looked from him to the window, as if contemplating throwing him through the supposedly shatterproof glass.
Frostroot's glamour faded as he mustered a mystical force field to protect him from my claw, only to gasp as it popped like a soap bubble. Sweat appeared on his wrinkled face. He slowly raised his hands with his fingers spread wide, a magician's form of surrender. His glamour didn't return this time; my negating his magic must have worn him out.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, your highness! It was a misunderstanding."
"She's very protective of our cubs," said Mason. "As am I. Please refrain from using them as bargaining chips. Our ways are not human ways."
I backed away slowly, withdrawing my claw as I moved back into the chair. Frostroot held his breath until I was settled, then let out a deep sigh.
He looked at the pile of gold on his desk, then at my hands, as if weighing the promise of money against the danger of working with me. He gave a tiny head shake and said, "So, I'm afraid we can't come to an arrangement. Pity. I'll have Miss Applemint escort you out."
As he reached for the call button that would end our meeting, I berated myself for overreacting. How to salvage this meeting?
"A moment, please, counselor," I said, bumping him up several grades in rank with my choice of address mode. "Do you recall what I said just before our little tiff?"
"'If I pay thee not in gold,'" he recited. Was that a tiny flash of regret at losing the status of speaking with a princess in intimate mode?
"What if I told you we have something more valuable than gold? Something unobtainable this side of the veil?"
"More valuable than this queen's ransom in gold?" A-ha. So the gold was adequate as payment.
"Yes," I said. I dug through my invisible purse and pulled out an object that made his eyes go wide.
Lycan Legacy - 4 - 5 - 6: Princess - Progeny - Paladin: Book 4 - 5 - 6 in the Lycan Legacy Series Page 32