9
Then his mouth firmed up, and he shook his head. "It can't be real. The dragons won't allow anyone to transfer those through their gates."
I stroked the bottle of fairy wine with a nail, bringing out a tiny musical ring at the limits of human hearing. But Frostroot heard it.
The bottle glowed with the eerie light that enchanted objects emit. The label was in the Fae language, the script on the label moving as if alive.
"It must be fake," Frostroot said flatly.
"Oh, my dear counselor," I said, "I can assure you that it is real. After all, who could fake such a thing of wonder?"
His eyes darted to Mason. Instead of arguing, Mason said just as flatly, "It's very real. I didn't fake it." A flat denial in Fae was stronger than the most potent human oath.
I stroked the bottle again and, in my best radio-announcer voice, intoned, "In the demesne of Princess Chrysoberyl stand the mountains called Greet-the-Day.
"On the flanks of these mountains grow the most prized grapes in two worlds. Each cycle, the grapes absorb the rainbow-imbued magic of Fae—absorb it until they are literally bursting with magical energy. When the harvest comes, the gatherers sing a song of thanksgiving, blessing each bunch with praise. It is said that the celestial music we hear when the bottle opens is an echo of those songs of praise.
"Then the grapes are lovingly prepared, each step in the refinement process designed to concentrate the magical potential of the wine. After fermentation, they store the wine in casks formed from the shoots of Yggdrasil, the eternal world tree, each cask no less than a millennium old.
"The wine is decanted into bottles designed to hold this potent vintage—hold and protect it from the vagaries of time.
"Finally, the wine, this product of magical and mundane labor, sits before us. Sits waiting for us to taste the ambrosia produced by Greet-the-Day and her acolytes."
Frostroot was frozen in place, eyes glazed over as if he was seeing the laborers on the mountainside, hearing them sing. He shook himself, and his face firmed up.
"An entrancing description, Princess. Are you sure you don't have a trace of bard in your background? You could make a fortune in advertising."
"Your language is beautiful; it makes poetry easy. I don't want a job in advertising. I enjoy the life I have now, the family I have now. That's why I need your help. Forces both magical and mundane scheme against us, threatening to destroy that life." I scooted the bottle a few inches closer to him.
His liver-spotted hand, as if of its own volition, slid across the table, then halted. He looked at his wrinkled appendage, realizing his glamour had dissipated.
"I understand fairy food and drink have remarkable restorative properties for Fae who stay on this side of the veil for whatever reason. And nothing is more restorative than this vintage."
Frostroot waved away my comment. "What's the human saying—'an old wives' tale'? There's no proof of that. In any case, dragons forbid fairy food in this world, because of the addictive nature of those foods to humans. I refuse to become a party to the distribution of drugs."
Mason chimed in, "Not exactly accurate, Counselor. Dragons forbid the transport of fairy food and drink through the portals they control. We obtained this through other means."
Mason held his hand up in the hand-sign magicians used to swear vows: fore- and middle fingers together, pinky held down with a thumb, and third finger spread, a cross between a Boy Scout salute and a Vulcan greeting. "Moreover, we swear we will never give fairy food or drink to humans."
Frostroot moved on to his next objection. "Dragons control the only stable portals, and they guard them jealously. Using a random portal would only provide intermittent passage. There could be no steady source of supply."
"Until you are sworn to confidence by accepting this retainer," I said, “we can't discuss our arrangements for import. It would seem that I could answer all of your questions if you drank with us. You could verify the quality of the wine. If it proves adequate, you could accept the rest of the bottle as your first retainer. Then, once we are assured of confidentiality, we could discuss our history and plans more openly."
"You would drink with me, a mere commoner?”
I rubbed my belly and smiled. "Well, I'm off alcohol until after I give birth. But I'll gladly share a toast with you." There was a strange look in his eyes and something prompted me to add, "And anyone else you invite."
"So break out the fancy wineglasses and invite your friend," said Mason. "We have a lot to discuss."
“Miss Applemint would love to join us.” Frostroot keyed the intercom and called out in Fae, "Crystal, please come to my office. The princess has invited us to join her for a drink."
"A drink? But we never go out with clients."
"We're not going out. Princess Luna has brought a bottle of Chrysoberyl's Reserve."
The door opened suddenly, and Miss Applemint burst in. She shuffled quickly to the desk, leaving her slippers behind in her rush. She looked at Frostroot and, at his nod, snatched the bottle off the desk for a close inspection. She squinted, then put on a pair of reading glasses.
Her fingers caressed the script on the label, tracing the ever-moving ink, anticipating each change. "I thought I would never see one of these again," she murmured.
The bookcase behind Frostroot's desk contained drawers. He slid open the upper drawer and reached inside, then froze when he heard my growl. He pulled his empty hands out slowly and said, "My apologies, Princess Luna. The tray and cutlery are silver; I should have known it would be unpleasant for you."
I laughed to release the tension. "Just don't pull out any silver knives and it’ll be fine."
I rubbed my belly. “I’m just a bit overprotective these days.”
He nodded and retrieved four crystal wineglasses, which he placed on his desk.
Miss Applemint said, "We don't have a corkscrew. Well, we do, but it's silver. Maybe I could run out and get a steel one?"
"That won't be necessary," I said. I stuck out my left forefinger and concentrated. Extending my regular claws was easy for me, but after seeing what a shape-shifting kitsune could do, I had worked on duplicating some of her tricks.
My nail popped out about an inch, then grew in a helix about a half-inch around. The helix extended, growing like a sped-up version of a vine. After about thirty seconds, my finger-claw was a three-inch long corkscrew with a needle-sharp point.
I took the bottle from Miss Applemint's hands and poked my nail into the cork. I spun the entire bottle clockwise and my nail dug into the cork. The cork came out with a satisfying pop. The scent of the rare vintage flowed around the table, and the air seemed filled with distant music.
I offered the bottle to Frostroot and said, "Briar, if you will accept this bottle of wine as your retainer and pledge to keep our secrets, we can toast our new partnership."
He took it, saying, "Gladly, Princess Luna. I pledge our support to your tasks and pledge us to keep your secrets inviolate." He was including Miss Applemint in his promise.
"Then please pour for us." I retracted my corkscrew claw and caught the cork before it dropped an inch.
Miss Applemint shot a quizzical glance at Counselor Frostroot. "All will be explained shortly," he said as he filled all four glasses with equally precise doses, emptying the bottle.
We raised our glasses to toast. "To our partnership. May it long last."
We all clinked glasses in assent. I inhaled the intoxicating aroma of the finest wine in this world, then set my glass down with regret.
Mason sipped and rolled the wine around in his mouth, enjoying the flavors.
Briar and Miss Applemint were more cautious, each taking the tiniest sip possible. Then they leaned back with closed eyes and smiled as the essence of the fairy wine entered their systems. They took another sip and the process repeated. Watching them enjoy their first taste of Fae drink in who knew how many years was mesmerizing.
After their third sip, I noticed th
at the liver spots on Briar's hands had faded slightly. The tiny tremors of Miss Applemint's hands had steadied into calmness.
Four sips and Briar's white hair had developed streaks of black. As I watched, the streaks spread until his hair was jet-black. Miss Applemint now had strands of golden hair sprouting on her scalp, and her wrinkles were slowly fading.
Were they really rejuvenating? Or was their glamour returning? I squinted to pierce the glamour; now Briar had black hair, pointy ears, and an almost unwrinkled face. I resisted the urge to touch their hands, to track how this rejuvenation was occurring.
Miss Applemint had long golden strands curling below her jaw and her pinned-up white hair now shared the same tint. Her eyes cleared, wrinkles faded, and she sat up straighter. Even her breasts were bigger. The new hair growth must have tickled her cheek. She pulled a strand of gold in front of her eyes, shook her head, and removed the no-longer-necessary glasses. She beamed, then reached up and unpinned her hair. One shake of her head and she had a perfect hairstyle, long golden below-the-shoulder tresses that curled gently. She must have used some variation of Mason's haircut spell.
I suppressed a flash of jealousy. My retainer would extend the lives of these ridiculously long-lived fairies and make them beautiful to boot. I repeated Mason's mantra about life. We all get the same, one lifetime to live.
The glasses were soon empty, except for mine. Briar and Miss Applemint were staring hungrily at my untouched wine. I was jealous, but not cruel. I rubbed my belly and said, "I can't drink because of my pregnancy. Would you like to share my portion?"
Briar and Miss Applemint shared a look. He said, "I'm sorry Princess Luna, we must refuse."
What? It was obvious they wanted the remaining wine. Why wouldn't they take it?
"Is this some fairy protocol thing I don't know about?" Mason gave a slight nod, so I continued, "My offer is genuine."
"We only share food or drink already served with close friends and family," said Briar. "Miss Applemint, unfortunately…"
I reached out and stroked her hand. "Easily settled." I shifted into intimate mode. "Crystal, please call me Luna and consider yourself a friend, as well as a colleague."
"Thank you, Luna."
I pushed my glass to Briar, and he carefully measured out half into each of their glasses.
Once the strange round of drinks was done, Briar got down to business. "So, Luna. What problems can we work on for you?"
"Well, there are several. First is the fact that the governor is behind an effort to steal our mine. He has used eminent domain to take possession of the mine."
Briar looked at our gold, still piled on his desk. "The nugget is obviously Earth mined, but the metal of the coins appears to be fae. Why do you need a mine on Earth?"
"My pack members need work histories, W2s, and health insurance for their mortal families. I thought the mine was the best way to guarantee that."
"But Mason has a certain reputation regarding paperwork and documentation. Couldn't he just make the documents you need?"
"Werewolves don't like magic. They might reject his help. It seemed better to set up the mine."
Briar looked at me closely, "But that's not the only reason, is it?"
"Werewolves need to stay busy or they get into trouble in the human world. The mine gives them structured lives, helps them integrate into human society."
"It will be hard to pry a valuable mine from the government. What they can't tax, they steal."
"Valuable? Not so much," said Mason. "The mine is pretty much worthless."
"Worthless? Then why did they want it?"
"Because Mason called valuable minerals from deep in the earth up to our mine. Without his continued efforts, the mine will produce tiny amounts of minerals."
Briar looked at Mason, "That would require a magician of much greater power than I remember you having."
"I was a late bloomer," responded Mason.
"Or good at misdirection," replied Briar. He shook his head at the byplay and turned to me. "You want the mine back?"
"Yes."
"All right. Once they run out of cash with no results, we'll buy the mine back."
On a flash of anger I snarled, "Buy back what I've already purchased? Can't I just kill everybody involved and get my property back?"
"Let's save that for a last resort. We can buy back at a tiny fraction of the cost it would take to litigate this in human courts. They will know that any future attempts to exercise eminent domain on you or your enterprises will lead to ruination for those involved."
Briar turned to Mason. "I'm assuming you will assist in the mining operation once we restore ownership?"
"Of course."
"Excellent! We'll soon have your mining operation back in your hands. Anything else?"
"We might need your help running the hospital we bought."
"You bought a hospital?"
"Yes. It got us more jobs for pack members, and a place for healers to practice. But the administration is too complex for a part-time CEO." I pointed to myself. "I don't have the time or temperament for management. And once the children are born, we’ll have even less time."
"The hospital’s losing money now," said Mason. "We need a sharp administrator to get it in shape."
"But I can’t abandon my law practice to run your hospital," said Briar.
"We just want you to look over the organization and recommend a new chief administrator."
"That I can do. I know of several who would make excellent managers."
"We'll trust your judgment," I said.
“A new CEO for your hospital and facing down the local government in court. We should make quick work of your issues. It seems a little too easy.”
"Now that you mentioned it, my grandmother-in-law is a problem. I think she's been sending assassins after me."
"Guild assassins are after you?" Briar looked at the bottle of wine like he would never see another.
"Five or six, so far," I said. "But I think they’ll stop now."
"They don't stop," said Briar. Then he shook his head. "Why do you think they’ll give up?"
"The last assassin they sent showed up with a silver blade," I growled. "We sent a message to the Guildmaster."
"What kind of message?"
"An iron spike through the Guildmaster while he was ensconced in his chambers. I think the new Guildmaster will listen to reason."
"I'll contact the Guild and arrange an extended truce," said Briar. He looked mournfully at the now-empty bottle of wine. "I don't think I bargained hard enough for this job."
I smiled my biggest human smile. "I appreciate anything you can do for us." I reached into my invisible bag and pulled out another bottle of magic wine and placed it on his table with a thunk. "And as a gesture of my appreciation, here’s another bottle of wine, since you like it so much."
10
In the late afternoon, as the air cooled a bit, Mason and I took a walk around the compound. I needed to stay active, but walking was the most I could do at this stage. I missed running on four feet. Hell, I even missed running on two feet.
"I'm going to train for the Las Vegas Marathon in November," I said, speaking in Fae. That was the only way to keep conversations private in a compound full of werewolves without using magic.
"Sounds like fun. I'll join you." Mason was one of the few who could keep up with werewolves. "Are you going to have the pack join?"
"I'll ask for volunteers."
"Hey, get Logan to join. I'd love to show him up."
"That wouldn't be fair."
"I won’t use magic to cheat. How can it not be fair?"
"No, dear. Not fair to Logan. He's strong and deadly, but needs to work on his endurance."
"Good," Mason said with a savage smile. "I'll run him into the ground."
Most of my pack was at the basketball court in the center of the compound. Mike was there as well, going one-on-one against Christopher. Mason and I stopped at the edge of the
court to watch the game.
In athletic ability, they were evenly matched: Mike, with iron-hard bones, much stronger and faster than a normal human, against Christopher's werewolf strength and reflexes.
The pack had made some modifications to the court. The pole that supported the backboard had been extended and the backboard's attachments modified so it could be raised or lowered. The hoop was now mounted fifteen feet above the ground, versus the standard ten-foot height. It made dunking the ball much harder and added a greater level of skill to the game.
While we watched, the game became more and more confrontational. Where they had both been smiling when we arrived, both men now had gritted teeth. An occasional touch became rough elbows and pushes. The watching crowd started jeering Mike, which made him even more determined to win.
They were reacting to my presence, trying to show off for the alpha. It became serious when Christopher manifested claws after one conflict under the hoop. Mike was tough, but could only heal at a human rate.
I decided to lower the tension. I raised my left hand and tapped it against my right in the classic ‘time-out’ gesture.
"Great game, guys. Should we start prepping for the barbecue?"
It's a cheap trick to distract werewolves with food, but was sure to work.
I stared at Christopher, directing my gaze at his claws. He took a deep breath and retracted his claws. Christopher turned to Mike with a smile and shook his hand. "Good game. You kicked my ass. You're getting better and better."
"Thanks, Christopher. Sorry I got aggressive at the end," Mike said as he returned Christopher's smile.
Mason and I turned away from the basketball court to continue our walk.
A tiny grunt and the whistle as the ball flew were the only warnings. I jerked my head around to see the basketball, hurled with superhuman strength, only feet away from Mason's head.
I reached out to deflect the ball, but Mason was too fast. He spun in a micro-second and held his palm up. The ball smacked into his hand with a loud thwapp sound.
"You and me, magician. One on one," growled Matthew.
Lycan Legacy - 4 - 5 - 6: Princess - Progeny - Paladin: Book 4 - 5 - 6 in the Lycan Legacy Series Page 33