Traitor of the Entitled Novella

by Shannon Lynn Cook

  Absently, I note that one needs a little more refrigerant, but that’s not why we’re down here.

  “You keep your tablet in the guild basement?” I ask wryly, mostly just so I’ll have something to say. The silence is daunting.

  When I turn, I find Eric lingering by the doorway. He closes the door behind us and then stands there, arms crossed, studying me.

  I force a laugh and match his posture. “Please tell me you didn’t bring me down here to kill me.”

  “You’re scared,” he says.

  “Well, yeah,” I say, adding some snark to the words to avoid the question. “You’re like a giant, and there’s literally no one around.”

  “Not of me.”

  Dropping the charade, I look at the floor and shrug.

  “Talk to me,” he says softly.

  And oh, I want to. Believe me, I do.

  Rolling my eyes, I say, “You’re not the safest Bunny for me to hang out with, all right? What conclusions do you think the elders are going to come to if they spot us together? They’re not going to be pleased to learn I double-crossed them.”

  “Have they threatened you? Hurt you?” His voice is a velvet growl, and it makes me gulp.

  “No.” I make myself look at him. “They don’t know what I did. I explained the situation, saying I was detained by Donavan’s team. Then I told them I needed a break, and I’ve been avoiding their calls ever since.”

  “Do they suspect anything?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  But I don’t honestly know. And standing here, having a conversation with Eric, just waiting for them to figure it out, is stupid at best.

  I glance around, searching the area for surveillance equipment. All I can feel is the vibration of the machines that quietly run in the underbelly of a building, often forgotten until one of them breaks. I don’t dabble in building maintenance much myself, but it’s obvious this place needs some routine checks.

  “See anything?” Eric asks, realizing what I’m doing.

  “No.”

  He drops his arms, relaxing a little. His eyes rove over me thoughtfully, as if checking me over, like he actually cares that I’m all right.

  The attention makes me fidget.

  “So…” The knight trails off right after he begins, looking like he’s not sure if he should finish his sentence. “You’re one of them. Or you were roughly ten days ago.”

  The Entitled.

  I shove a strand of hair behind my ear. “I still am. I’m just not sure I agree with all their methods.”

  Some of their methods? Most of them?

  He thinks about my words and then shakes his head. “I don’t get it. You’re either a criminal, or you’re not. Which is it?”

  “Do you know how much money the Royal Guild rakes in each month because of infractions?” I demand. He looks confused by what he thinks is an abrupt change of subject, but I continue, “Say you’re a Deer, okay? And you’re walking down the street, minding your own business, and some idiot in a car races past, hits a little girl, and runs. She’s badly hurt, has sustained major life-threatening injuries, and you’re the only other person on the street. You could heal her right there, right then, or you could call 911 and hope they show up in time. The laws say you can’t help because magic has to be kept secret, but if you don’t, that little girl is going to die.”

  He frowns, staying silent.

  “I’ll tell you what you would do—you use your magic, because you’re a Deer, and every fiber of you is created to heal. And somehow the guild finds out, as they so often do. Do they throw you in the Dungeons?”

  “No. The crime doesn’t match the punishment.”

  “But they don’t let you off scot-free, do they?”

  His eyes meet mine, and he shakes his head.

  “What do they do?”

  “They charge you a fine, and they send in a Wolf to persuade the little girl to forget.”

  “It’s a lucrative business, wouldn’t you say? You’re a knight marshal, so you tell me: how many Aparians break the law simply because not using our magic would be like a human voluntarily walking around blind? It’s part of us—it’s who we are. We shouldn’t have to hide it.”

  His mouth twists into a wry smile, like he sees my logic, but he thinks it’s flawed. “Do you have any idea what kind of pandemonium a mass reveal would cause?”

  I meet his eyes and lower my voice even though we’re alone. “That’s why we want to go home. There are so many of us—more than you know—who are tired of living like the Royal Guild’s dirty secret.”

  “So you’re saying the Entitled doesn’t want to rule over humans?” he says, his voice dripping with skepticism.

  “Most do,” I admit. “But not all of us.”

  “What about you?”

  “I just want a choice. I want to choose whether I stay here, and agree to keep my magic secret, or make a life in Aparia. At least then, when it’s difficult, I know I made the decision to tough it out. Right now, we’re just trapped. And the guild likes it that way—they like the power they have over us.”

  “Why did you call me that night?” he asks, looking morbidly curious. “Why did you tell me where Thomas had taken Madeline? It certainly didn’t help your cause.”

  “Because abducting Madeline was wrong, and I would never be able to live with myself if I’d been a part of it. I want freedom—I’m not going to steal someone else’s and try to justify it by claiming it was a necessary means to an end.”

  Eric studies me, thinking over my answer. Slowly, he pushes away from the wall and walks forward, making the space feel like it’s suddenly shrinking.

  I gulp when he’s about an arm’s-length away, hating that I must tip my head back to look at him.

  “Is that why you hate me?” he asks. “Because I’m a knight of the Royal Guild—an officer of a system you loathe?”

  “No,” I say, and it’s the truth. I don’t think Eric is corrupt. I think he became a knight marshal to help people, to protect Aparians and humans alike from those of our kind who would exploit and hurt them. In fact, I admire him for it—but I can’t tell him that.

  “Then why?”

  “I don’t hate you,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral even though my pulse feels all weird and jittery.

  He leans down, meeting me at eye level. It probably looks ridiculous, but there’s no one here to see. Quietly, he says, “I would save the little girl.”

  “I know you would.”

  “And Jonathan would save the little girl,” he continues. “Gray would save the little girl, and so would Rafe. We aren’t pawns, and we aren’t in the business for the money or the power.”

  For some reason, my eyes begin to sting. I give him a curt nod.

  Dropping his voice even further, until it’s no more than a velvet whisper, Eric says, “And I will save you if you ever need it. All you have to do is call.”

  Too many conflicting emotions are at war in my stomach, and I lose my nerve. I yank my eyes from his and brush past him, heading toward the only door. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

  “I believe you,” he says to my retreating back, “but wouldn’t it be nice to know you don’t have to do everything alone?”

  Unable to resist, I look at him over my shoulder. “I’m going to throw away the phone. It’s a liability.”

  He watches me, saying nothing.

  I adjust my bag, waiting. I expect the knight to argue, at least a bit. But he just watches me, calling my bluff.

  But it wasn’t a bluff. As much as I like Eric, I don’t want to be a part of this, whatever this is. Trouble is brewing, and I don’t need to place myself in the middle of it.

  “Eric?” I say before I leave.

  He lifts his brows, waiting.

  “What about Madeline?” I ask, though I already know the answer to my question. “What would she do?”

  He smiles. “She’d definitely save the girl.
”

  The Obsidian Queen is not what I expected, not what anyone expected. And to be honest, I’m not sure she’s strong enough to be what we need. But I hope she is.

  “Take care of yourself, Eric,” I say, and then I walk out the door.

  7

  I threw away the phone one month ago—right after I fried its circuits. Dead phones tell no tales.

  You should have written down his number, I think to myself as I jog around a park that’s covered in snow. It’s freaking freezing, and my breath puffs out in front of me. My lungs are starting to ice over; there’s probably crystals forming in them now.

  He’s not here. He’s not coming. He’s not a moron.

  I got a little desperate, all right? Two weeks ago, in the middle of the night, I did a little routine hacking into the Royal Guild’s computer system and pulled up Eric’s info.

  I know.

  I know.

  But the way I figure it, I wasn’t taking anything I didn’t have before. He already gave me his phone number once. And, yes, maybe I had to do a little snooping into private phone records to find his address when the one the guild had on file seemed to be old, but now I can confidently tell him his carrier is overcharging him. If I ever work up the nerve to call him again.

  I probably won’t.

  Which is why I’m here, in this frozen wonderland of a park near his condo, hoping to bump into him semi-organically. The Bunny is fit, right? Surely he jogs? One of these days, I’m bound to run into him.

  He probably goes to a gym, I scoff. Heat controlled, not snowy. Not freezing.

  A jogger who’s way more dedicated than I am passes me for the zillionth time. He’s like some freakish gazelle, running like a lion is on his heels. It’s becoming embarrassing.

  I don’t even run in the nice months—I shouldn’t have chosen December to give it a try.

  By the time I make it back to my car, I’ve lost all feeling in my feet. My phone rings just as I start the engine.

  “I think I have frostbite,” I tell Nicole when I answer. “Can you save toes?”

  “You don’t have frostbite.”

  “How do you know?”

  She laughs like it’s a joke. “I’m making those cookies you like, the ones with the chocolate glaze. Can you buy a bag of powdered sugar on your way home? I’m almost out.”

  “I can tell you’re taking my condition seriously.”

  “Did you run into him this time?”

  I grumble as I pull my knit hat from my head, making my straight hair all staticky. “Run into whom?”

  “Nice try. No one in their right mind drives two hours into the mountains in the middle of winter to go jogging.”

  “I didn’t drive two hours just to jog,” I argue. “I had business at the guild this morning, and I thought I’d stop here before heading back.”

  Admittedly, it would have been more convenient, and a whole lot warmer, if I’d just run into Eric at the guild again. But before was a fluke. I usually end up at the place once or twice a week, and I haven’t seen him again.

  “Sure,” Nicole says, not believing me for a minute. “So…did you see him?”

  “No,” I finally admit, acknowledging I’m a loser. It doesn’t matter, though—it’s just Nicole. At this rate, the two of us will be cat ladies together. I’m a slightly curmudgeonly Squirrel—spinsterhood suits me. Nicole, though, was never meant for this life.

  We’ve known each other since our days in elementary in northern Connecticut. I was the shy girl taking apart the pencil sharpener at the corner desk; she was the golden girl in the center of the room, loved by all. She was kind to everyone, even the lowly little Squirrel all the other Aparian children snubbed. The teachers loved her because she was smart. The students loved her because she was pretty and witty and could make a joke without anyone being at the expense of it. Somehow, we hit it off. We were best friends growing up.

  When we turned eighteen, Nicole left Connecticut to enter the Knights’ Guild Academy in Denver, and I went to New York to go to a Sciuridae tech school. We kept in touch, occasionally talking on the phone, even though it became difficult with our schedules. Social media filled in the gaps, but being Aparian, we never could say much about our lives.

  Nicole posted pictures of her new friends—her team, though she didn’t title them as such in public. When she began dating one of the knights, she started adding pictures of him and her doing couple stuff. Going out to dinner, walking in the park, all the usual things.

  I knew who Rafe was, anyone with Entitled bloodlines did. I couldn’t warn her, though, couldn’t tell her it was a bad idea to get tangled up with him. And she looked so happy. I never imagined she would be the one to break his heart.

  Anyway, that was the norm, until I got a frantic call in the middle of the night several years ago. I moved to Denver, and Nicole and I became hermits together. The rest is history—a history we both hoped was behind us.

  Funny how life works sometimes.

  “I had an idea,” she says, drawing me back to the conversation.

  Wary, I pull onto the street. “What kind of idea?”

  “The kind where you get all dressed up and go to Lord Finnegan’s wedding. You know Eric will be there.”

  My heart gives an extra thump.

  “Just how long have you been waiting to give me a makeover?”

  She laughs. “Come on. Let me live vicariously through you.”

  “I don’t have anything to wear,” I argue.

  Again, she laughs, but this time, the tone is slightly wicked.

  “What did you do?” I demand, and then I pause. “You never make those chocolate cookies.”

  They’re one of my favorites, and she darn well knows it. I’ve tried to make them, but I can’t bake to save my life.

  “Just hurry up,” she says, and then she hangs up on me.

  By the time I get home, I’m more than a little nervous. I don’t have to be a mind reader to know she bought me a dress online, but there’s a big problem that average-height Nicole probably didn’t think about—most dresses are way too long on me. Half the time when I wear one, I look like a little girl playing dress-up.

  I walk in the door, powdered sugar in hand. “All right,” I say as I drop my keys in the little ceramic bowl on the entry table. “Where is it?”

  “Where is what?” Nicole calls from the kitchen.

  The house smells amazing. This time, the fragrance wafting from the kitchen is definitely food, not salve.

  “The dress.”

  I find her carefully removing perfectly golden, buttery discs of heaven from the cookie sheet. “What dress?”

  Rolling my eyes, I say, “Come on.”

  She finally meets my eyes, and though she tries for several seconds, she can’t contain her grin. “I hung it in your room.”

  “I told you—I’m not going to the wedding.”

  As if she was expecting resistance, she squares her shoulders and points to the plate. “Then no cookies.”

  I shake my head, smiling because it’s ridiculous. “Why do you want me to go so badly?”

  “Because you’ve been moping around this house like some star-crossed heroine for the last month, and here you have a perfectly good opportunity to see him, and you’re refusing to go.”

  “I really don’t like Lord Finnegan,” I groan.

  Nicole rolls her eyes. “No one likes Finn—he’s as arrogant as they come.”

  “Some would say that about his brother too,” I point out, raising a brow.

  She flushes and looks back at the half-empty cookie sheet. “Gray’s different.”

  “If you say so.”

  The Wolf will never be my favorite person, but Nicole and I learned long ago that we must agree to disagree where Gray is concerned.

  She concentrates awfully hard on the remaining cookies. “I thought maybe you could wear one of your tiny cameras, so I could go too. Sort of.”

  All my arguments leave me. This i
s the Aparian social event of the decade, and Nicole is trapped here, as usual. I hate this sort of thing, but she has always loved them.

  “Okay,” I groan, tipping my head back. “I’ll go.”

  “Really?” the Deer looks up, beaming at me.

  “But I don’t have to be happy about it—and I’m not sure this is healthy. I know you say you want to see them, but mostly, you want to see him.”

  “It’s been years,” she says. “I just miss them—all of them.”

  “What if it’s painful?” I ask quietly. “You know Rafe is Madeline’s knight, but there’s something I haven’t told you.”

  “He’s dating Madeline,” she says quietly. “I already connected the dots.”

  “No, it’s not that exactly.” I don’t know what’s going on there. “It’s that Madeline and Rafe…linked their magic.”

  Nicole sucks in a sharp breath and drops one of the cookies on the floor. It breaks in half, its crumbly goodness wasted on the tile.

  “They what?” she demands at a whisper.

  “No one knows except their team,” I quickly say, dropping my voice even though there’s not a soul around to overhear us, “but I heard them talking in Vegas on one of the surveillance videos.”

  She grasps the edge of the counter and closes her eyes. An array of emotions moves across her face—agony, loss renewed, and finally, acceptance.

  “Is he happy?” she finally asks.

  “I don’t know.” I think back to the few conversations I witnessed. No one seemed particularly happy, to be honest. “But he only showed up that last day. I barely saw him.”

  Nicole nods, still staring at the wall. I truly fear the fate of the rest of the cookies. I almost offer to take over when she shoos me away with her hand. “Try on your dress.”

  I reluctantly leave the kitchen, dreading the informal fitting. The wedding is in two days. I won’t have time to find someone to alter it if it doesn’t fit. I’d have to sew it myself, and I’ve never picked up a needle.