Albigard sighed. “Give the seat to Teague,” he said, sounding infinitely weary.
Len stared at him, not certain he’d heard correctly. “What.”
The Fae waved a hand. “At least one may be sure that his decisions will be in Dhuinne’s interests, and not driven by sentiment.”
The Magistrate tilted her head. “We will take the recommendation under advisement.”
“And the Unseelie on Earth?” the cat-sidhe pressed.
“It is a complex issue that will require delicacy to deal with,” said the Magistrate.
“Or you could just, y’know, leave,” Len suggested. “It’s my world. Not yours. Your people being there is hurting both our realms. From where I’m standing, the solution seems pretty obvious.”
Several of the Unseelie scoffed. The Magistrate gave Len a smooth politician’s smile, though it seemed a bit strained around the edges.
“Unfortunately, it is not quite that simple,” she said. “Would you prefer humanity to languish beneath the boot heel of our enemies, the demons?”
“At least there are only six hundred and sixty-six of them,” Len said. “Not thousands. Also, the parties would probably be more fun.”
“I believe you underestimate the degree to which human institutions rely on Fae support to function,” the Magistrate replied with forced patience. “Stability on Earth has always been our goal. Not conquest.”
Len stared at her. “And was stability the goal when you started killing off our world leaders, and tried to introduce a new ruling class of magical children at Stonehenge?” he asked. “Because if so—news flash—it didn’t work.”
A flush of pink colored the Magistrate’s peaches and cream complexion. Meanwhile, the remaining Unseelie Court members suddenly seemed to find the various scrolls and parchments laid out in front of them intensely interesting.
“That was not an officially sanctioned course of action,” the Magistrate informed Len coldly. “The perpetrators have been dealt with.”
“My father and his supporters sanctioned that course of action,” Albigard said in an acid tone. “And, as he was the head of the Unseelie Court at the time, the argument that it was not officially sanctioned appears facile at best.”
The Magistrate didn’t back down from his challenging gaze. “Your father is dead now. As are his supporters within the Court—including, I might add, one whom you yourself murdered last year. You have been offered a seat in Dhuinne’s ruling body. With it, you might have influenced the Court from within. Instead, you turned it down. Nevertheless, perhaps all of us would be better served looking to the future, rather than the past.”
The cat-sidhe had been watching the exchange closely. “As long as the future does not continue to repeat the same mistakes that brought us to this juncture in the first place,” they said.
The Magistrate looked rather pointedly at the Wild Hunt, gathered in one corner of the chamber like a storm cloud. “There appears little danger of that.” She visibly reined in her frustration, and continued. “I assure you, Elder—everyone here understands that action must be taken to correct the imbalance caused by the presence of the Unseelie on Earth. It remains only to decide what form that action will take, in order to cause the least amount of disruption... not only here, but also on Earth.”
Len had the feeling that was about the best he could hope for, under the circumstances. The galling part was, she was probably right that yanking all ten thousand Unseelie back to Dhuinne without warning would finish the job of destabilizing human institutions that had already been severely stressed.
“Just... try to remember that humans deserve a say in their own futures, too?” he suggested. “It’s not like we ever asked to be stuck in the middle of your feud with Hell.”
The Magistrate’s expression softened, if only for an instant. “That is a fair observation. And we are cognizant of your contribution to saving Dhuinne from ruin, Len Grayson of Earth. Your actions will not be forgotten.”
After a bit more back and forth between the Magistrate and the cat-sidhe, they took their leave from the Court and returned to the cottage. Len wished he felt a bit more sanguine about what they’d truly accomplished.
“I will leave you for the night,” said the sidhe. “I must visit the Forsaken and discuss their plans for liaising with the Court. You will be all right here until morning?”
“Yes, of course,” Albigard said faintly.
He didn’t sound all right, but the cat-sidhe only nodded and left them to it. Which was how Len found himself alone with a shell-shocked Fae and, presumably, several hours without any additional crises piling onto their heads.
“How are you doing after all of that?” Len asked, though of course he already knew the answer.
“Badly,” Albigard said.
“Okay, same here,” Len told him, aware that he should probably be fine right now, since Rans and Zorah were alive, and he wasn’t the one who’d had to watch his father die the previous day.
In reality, Len just wanted to curl into a ball somewhere and rock for a bit. And while that wouldn’t be terribly helpful to either of them, it did give him an idea. He barred the front door, figuring the cat-sidhe could just portal in when they returned. Then he threw some more food on a plate and grabbed the bottle of mead.
“Bedroom,” he ordered. “The small one.”
Albigard stood there blankly until Len nudged him with a shoulder, at which point he wandered toward the interior door in a daze. Len ushered him inside and set the food and drink on the little table.
“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll be right back, and then we’re turning everything off... at least until tomorrow morning.”
He made a second trip for a pitcher of water from the sink, along with a couple of clay cups. His third trip was to the other bedroom, and he returned with an armful of feather-stuffed pillows from the other beds. He dumped them on the floor in front of the bedside table, and piled the two pillows from this room’s bed against the headboard on that side.
Throughout all of this, Albigard remained standing where Len had left him, hands hanging loosely at his sides. Lost.
Len uncorked the mead and took a couple of deep swallows—just enough to send a flush of heady warmth radiating outward from his stomach to his arms and legs. Then he handed the bottle to Albigard.
“Drink enough of that to take the edge off,” he ordered. “When you’re done, take your boots off and get comfortable.”
He demonstrated by kicking off his Doc Martens, peeling off his socks, and shrugging out of the commandant vest with its aggressive military-style metal bars on the shoulders. The he flopped onto the bed, naked to the waist, sitting against the pillows at the headboard with one leg draped over the mattress edge and the other stretched out in front of him.
“You stink,” Albigard observed neutrally, holding the bottle loosely in his hand as though he’d forgotten about it already.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Len said. “There’s no shower in this place.”
Albigard’s brow furrowed, and he made an intricate gesture with his free hand. Len swallowed a yelp of surprise as a sharp tingle rushed over his body from head to toe. When it faded, the smell of stale sweat and body odor had disappeared, along with the unpleasant sensation of greasy hair and grimy skin. In fact, he felt kind of like he’d just been sandblasted with exfoliant.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “That’s... handy. Um, thanks. Now hurry up and get mildly drunk—you look miserable and it’s upsetting me.”
The Fae gave him an odd look, but he raised the bottle to his lips and started chugging. Len wouldn’t have pegged him as a guzzler—not with that tight-laced demeanor and air of tragic nobility. Which only went to show that you should never make assumptions about people, he supposed.
When the bottle was empty, Albigard set it on the table and toed off his tall boots. Len let him decide for himself what constituted ‘getting comfortable,’ and was pleased when he unlaced the stiff
brocade tunic and slid out of it. Clad only in his loose-sleeved linen undershirt and soft leather breeches, he lowered himself gracefully onto the nest of pillows by the bed without being told. After a moment’s hesitation, he let his head fall to rest against Len’s thigh.
Len’s heart gave an awkward double-thud as he reached out a hand and stroked fingers over gossamer hair. “There you go, princeling,” he said softly. “We’re going to stay like this for a bit. When we get hungry later, we’ll eat. When the sun goes down, we’ll sleep. And that’s all. You don’t have to worry about anything else tonight.”
Albigard gave a small, silent nod of agreement against Len’s leg. Len let all his pesky thoughts drain away with a sense of palpable relief, leaving his mind pleasantly empty except for the warm weight of Albigard’s head against his thigh and the soft strands of hair beneath his fingers. He traced the braids running along the Fae’s temple and began to unravel them with slow strokes, until the blond mane was loose and flowing free.
For a long time, Albigard stayed silent and quiescent beneath the gentle petting. Eventually, he shifted in place.
“I am not my father,” he said. It was barely a whisper, for all its vehemence.
Len paused in running his fingers through the Fae’s silky hair, then resumed his rhythmic stroking a few moments later.
“I know you’re not,” he said quietly.
TWENTY-THREE
THE MORNING SUN streaming through the round bedroom window illuminated the pale hair draped over Len’s bare chest like a silvery halo. He yawned and blinked, thinking that he could get used to waking up like this... even if his left arm was completely numb after being slept on all night.
Albigard’s head rested heavy and warm on his shoulder. One arm and one leg splayed possessively across Len’s body. As far as he could tell, nothing appeared to be trying to kill them. Or arrest them. Or relay dire warnings to them about the end of the world being imminent.
It was nice.
Len’s dick began to sit up and take notice of exactly how nice it was. He stretched, luxuriating in the feeling of Albigard’s body shifting against his... and that was when he noticed the black cat sitting primly on the bedside table, its tail curled around its toes as it stared at him.
“Damn it,” he said, scrambling for the sheets in instinctive embarrassment—only to remember that they were both still wearing clothes from the waist down, and anyway the sheets were already pulled modestly over his and Albigard’s hips. He let his head flop back against the pillow as Albigard blinked awake.
“What is it?” the Fae murmured, in the resigned tone of someone who wouldn’t have been remotely surprised to find aliens invading or Godzilla laying waste to the city... but was still so done with it all.
“Visitor,” Len told him, and jerked his chin toward the cat-sidhe.
“Oh,” Albigard said.
The cat jumped down to the floor and morphed into humanoid form. “Good morning. Do you always sleep so late? Aesulna is here. She wishes to speak with you.”
Albigard rolled onto an elbow, and Len could almost see him restacking all of his worries into place after last night’s brief respite. “Very well. A few moments to make ourselves presentable, please.”
The sidhe snorted. “I doubt a Forsaken will be offended by your bare feet, a leanbh. But I will pass on the message.”
With that, they left.
“Well,” Len mused, “it was nice while it lasted, I guess.”
“It was... restful,” Albigard agreed. He rose from the bed and stretched, drawing Len’s gaze to the taut, graceful lines of his body.
Down, boy, Len told his dick sternly, as the Fae went looking for the rest of his clothing. A moment later, he caught the vest Albigard tossed at him and slid it on, zipping up the front and fastening the decorative buckles. His clothing was definitely beginning to look the worse for wear after so many days spent roughing it in the Fae realm, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it. After pulling on his Docs and running his fingers through his fringe of hair, he exchanged a look with his companion.
“Any idea what this is about?” he asked.
“None,” Albigard replied. “Hopefully nothing catastrophic, or I assume the sidhe would have woken us sooner.”
“Cat-astrophic,” Len echoed with flat humor. “Ha. Good one.”
The Fae leveled a severe look in his direction and headed for the front room. Len tagged along behind.
Aesulna was waiting for them, seated on a chair and sipping steaming tea from a cup.
“Good morning, friends,” she said placidly.
“Good morning, Aesulna,” Albigard replied, with more courtesy than Len could ever remember hearing from him before. “Is everything well?”
Aesulna smiled. “If that’s a polite way of asking if any new crises are looming, the answer is no. Not to my knowledge, at any rate. In fact, I am here with a proposal for you, Albigard of the Unseelie.”
Albigard raised a curious eyebrow. “Are you indeed?”
“The camp has been discussing the Court’s offer of liaison,” she went on. “We have chosen our representatives to this proposed committee.” The word was laced with both amusement and contempt. “All except for one. You do not belong here in the city, Albigard. And yet, you understand the Court and its minions better than those of us who fled to the wildlands to escape the rules of Fae society. You speak their language, but you would fight for our freedoms. We wish you to be our final representative, bridging the gap between the Forsaken and the Court.”
Len watched the look of shock flit across Albigard’s face for an instant before he covered it.
“I... would need to consider the offer,” said the Fae.
Aesulna tipped her head. “Understandable. And to be clear, whether you accept it or not, you will always have a place in our camp should you desire it.” She set her tea down and rose. “Inform us of your decision whenever you are ready, if you would. You know where to find us.”
With a kind smile that also included Len, she dipped her chin in farewell and left the cottage.
The cat-sidhe gave Albigard and Len a brief onceover, and rose as well. “Well, now. It appears you have some things to consider. I will be in the other bedroom when you’ve come to a decision regarding your course of action.”
Like a piano falling on him out of the blue, it hit Len that there was now a future to think about. And yes, that sounded stupid even in his own head—but in his defense, up until very recently he’d been working on the assumption that the world was going to end and they were all going to die. His brain hadn’t quite flipped the switch yet, it seemed.
Because they hadn’t died, and it looked like the world was maybe, probably, hopefully not going to end after all... and he’d been playing house in a parallel dimension with someone who wasn’t even the same species as he was. Someone who had a life—and a lifespan—that Len could barely conceive of, while Len had friends and a house and a job back on Earth.
The realization felt like a bucket of ice water to the face.
“That would”—he broke off and cleared his throat when the words stumbled—“That, uh, sounds like something you’d be really good at.”
Albigard was still staring at the front door after Aesulna’s exit. “I...” He hesitated. “Perhaps.”
“Did you have other plans?” To be honest, Len had no idea what sort of life Albigard usually lived when he wasn’t busy pissing off his own people and almost getting executed.
“In truth?” said the Fae. “I hadn’t expected to survive this long.”
Evidently, the Fae had been smacked upside the head by the same clue-by-four that had just walloped Len. He wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse.
“Yeah? Same here.” Len strove to keep his tone light. “You made it, though. Saved the world, got your criminal record expunged, and now the Court owes you big time. You’ve just gotta keep an eye on them to make sure they take care of the Unseelie problem on Eart
h, and other than that, you can do whatever you want now, right?”
Albigard honestly looked as though the idea hadn’t occurred to him until this very moment. “I... suppose so.” His green gaze met Len’s and held. “And you? What will you do now?”
Len took a deep breath. “I mean...? Go back to Earth and try to avoid being near anyone or anything that’s dying, I guess?”
The Fae’s brow furrowed. “Yes.” He almost sounded like he was speaking to himself. “Even with the Court’s good graces, I suppose it would be dangerous here, for anyone with necromancy.”
“Well,” Len said, “Like I said, I’ve already got a life on Earth, too. Maybe it’s not the greatest life, but it includes some people I care about.”
“You have roots in the human realm,” Albigard murmured. “Of course you do.”
Len thought about Kat... about Maurice and Sally, and the other employees at the Brown Fox. About Guthrie and Vonnie... Rans and Zorah.
Roots.
“I do, yes.” He swallowed. “And the last thing you need here is some kind of diplomatic incident caused by a human necromancer, right? I can’t even seem to control it properly... and in all honesty, I don’t really want to control that kind of power.”
Albigard nodded slowly. “I understand that now. I see that it wasn’t something you asked for, or wanted—even if I have cause to be grateful for your unwanted abilities on a... personal level.”
This was quickly turning into one of the most awkward conversations of Len’s life. There was simply no opening where it would be appropriate to say I’ve seen you fall apart in my arms, or I felt you die while I was kissing you.
He was standing in front of someone who’d witnessed the fall of the Holy Roman Empire, and all Len could think about was the desperate light behind Albigard’s forest-green eyes right before he lost control and begged for sexual release.
It occurred to him belatedly that these past few weeks had been... some kind of fever dream. A time outside of time, when the rules no longer applied because everything was going to hell in a handbasket and none of it mattered anyway. But now it was over.
Forsaken Fae: The Complete Series, Books 1-3 (Last Vampire World) Page 52