The Queen's Crown (Court of Midnight and Deception Book 3)

by K. M. Shea

  The sign, which used to read King’s Court Café in a very bold font, had been replaced with something a little more stylized that proclaimed Queen’s Court Café.

  I haven’t been here since the first week in January…did Rhonda go out of business? But the café always seemed to have customers.

  Rigel stopped at my side and joined me in peering up at the sign. “It has changed names,” he observed with astounding diligence.

  “Yeah, but why? The place is named after the street.”

  I peered at the windows, but everything looked the same. The big sign welcoming all leashed pets hung in the glass door, and the illuminated sign of their hours of business was still glowing and positioned in the front window where it had always been.

  I cautiously poked my head in to look around.

  The cafe was still cozy and cheerful with rustic decorating. Strings of lights hung from the ceiling—which was still painted a dark blue color, though I noticed there were flecks of white, gold, and red that made it look more like a starry sky. Tendrils of ivy that ventured out of flower boxes crawled around shelves bolted near the top of the walls, and planters filled with ferns were splashes of green among the wooden tables and chairs.

  The brick wall across from the register had a bunch of pictures on it and a massive TV that displayed an ever-changing mosaic of digital photos, but that was the biggest change I could see.

  Landon, Rhonda’s employee—who I thought was a high schooler, but given all the weird hours he worked I was starting to suspect he was actually a college student—still stood behind the register, looking bored as he puffed his cheeks out, making his thick dusting of freckles stand out more than usual.

  “Landon?” I called.

  “Oh, Queen Leila.” Landon turned around to shout at the drive through window area. “Hey, Rhonda! The queen of apocalyptic horses and cat and dog monsters arrived!”

  “I know, I know. Solstice just dropped by to beg for a treat.” She popped her head out from behind the thin wall that separated the two areas. “I’ll be out in a minute, Leila, just grabbing a carrot.”

  “Is that why he was making a break for the drive through? Because you give him carrots?” I called.

  “Yeah.” Rhonda’s voice was a little muffled. “I give them one whenever they stop by without you.”

  “Wait…they come without me?!” I didn’t know if I was impressed or outraged. I mean, that they knew how to get to the cafe—and had the cleverness to drop by whenever they wanted a treat—made me proud.

  But seriously! They came to my favorite café without telling me?

  I should get them a saddle bag or something so they can fetch coffee for me.

  That thought alone would probably be enough to make Skye finish off an entire tin of antacids. The night mares were supposed to be revered, not used for coffee runs.

  Then again, stupid tradition—probably that wretched Original Creep—also said the glooms and shades needed to be similarly treated, and the shades loved tummy rubs and I could personally testify that the glooms went crazy for catnip. We had to be careful with what cat toys we allowed in the mansion!

  “Yeah, they mosey through here about once a week.”

  I heard the scrape of the drive through window open. “I hear they sometimes make their rounds over to the French bakery. Darlene told me she slips them apples.”

  The bakery, too?! I love that bakery!

  I craned my neck and tried to give my equine pet a death glare around the wall, but I couldn’t quite see him from this angle.

  “There we go, he’s off on his way.” Rhonda washed her hands and meandered up to the register. “Okay. What can I get you, Your Majesty?”

  I took a breath to make my order, before I remembered the sign. “Oh—did something happen to the café? I saw the sign change outside.”

  Rhonda burst into a sunny smile. “Yep, you got it! We’re Queen’s Court Café now—named after our local fae queen.”

  I paused. “You named it after me?”

  “Yep! Seemed like the right thing to do—you’ve been the best marketing campaign I’ve ever had. People flock here since you’ve publicly said it’s your favorite café.”

  “But I don’t come that often.”

  Coffee is too expensive to be anything besides an occasional treat when the Court expenses are what they are!

  “Maybe, but it’s fun to share something in common with a person you admire. And we’ve become a bit of a base for your fans.” Rhonda waved at the wall of photos.

  Curious, I approached the wall, smiling down at Steve and Whiskers as they faithfully followed me.

  All the pictures, I was shocked to see, had me in them.

  Most of them—especially the digital photos showing on the TV—were pictures of me posing with people. There was one from the first time I’d come to King’s Court Café after being made queen with Chase, Eclipse, and Solstice and we’d run into a few people who’d asked to take pictures with us since fae creatures like the night mares didn’t leave the fae realm very often, and the photograph I’d taken with the Curia Cloisters employee a little over a week ago was up on the wall, too.

  Framed copies of the Curia Cloisters newsletter that had articles about the day I was crowned queen and the day I was sworn in as the regional fae rep on the Regional Committee of Magic hung on the walls, and there were some newspaper clippings from when I won the Magiford Midsummer Derby.

  I turned from the wall. “But—I—I…why?”

  Rhonda smiled as she got a large cup. “I’ve told you before, Leila, you’re a local celebrity. You mean a lot of different things to different people.” She turned to Rigel and beamed. “And I am tickled pink to see you back in here—finally—Consort Rigel! What can I get for you?”

  She leaned against the counter and tugged on her visor with a sly grin. “If you’re up for recommendations, can I suggest our new monthly specials? We made them special for February!”

  I’d been slowly making my way back, but at the sneaky tone to her voice I scrambled, reaching Rigel just in time to look up at the chalkboard display.

  The title “February Specials” was written with pink chalk and bedazzled with hearts and stars. The rest of the board was similarly decorated, but it was the drink names that made me release a high-pitched keening noise that had both Steve and Whiskers leaning into me.

  “Night Queen’s Love? The Consort’s Adoration? Royal Love Latte? Midnight Kiss Mocha?” My voice went higher the farther down the list I looked.

  Losing the will to live, I gaped at Rhoda.

  She winked at me. “Cute, aren’t they?”

  Wow. I didn’t know it was possible to die from both embarrassment and awkwardness. But I’m pretty sure my heart just stopped beating.

  I slapped both of my hands on the counter and looked down through them, wheezing.

  This is a new level of “fine.” Bring the guy you love to a café that has drinks dedicated to your fictional relationship. That doesn’t seem crazy at all.

  “I want the Consort’s Adoration,” Rigel said, apparently impervious to all of this.

  Figures. Probably because he doesn’t feel anything like this for me.

  “I thought you’d like that one!” Rhonda cackled. “It’s a London Fog—an earl gray tea latte—but it’s sweetened with honey, has a shot of lavender flavoring, and is topped with cinnamon! We thought lavender with its purple flowers would suit you considering the name of the drink and the color of Leila’s eyes.”

  Still waiting to die, I groaned like a wounded buffalo. When I finally managed to peel my head up, Rhonda smirked at me over the top of the register.

  “If you’re that embarrassed, how about a Puppy Love Affogato?” She pointed up at the chalkboard again, and I saw this drink was listed last, and someone had drawn a shade with bright orange hearts for its eyes.

  “That’s adorable,” I admitted.

  “Pick your poison, Queenie. What’ll it be?” Rhonda asked. />
  I sucked my neck into my shoulders as I glanced up at the chalkboard again. “Night Queen’s Love” actually sounded really good as it had some of my favorite seasonal flavor shots in it—it was a red velvet mocha with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle and dark chocolate shavings.

  But there was no way I was going to order that in front of Rigel. I felt humiliated enough that he didn’t have a response to my feelings, I didn’t need to tote a reminder around in drink form.

  “Um, I think I’ll have my oldie but goodie, a raspberry cappuccino,” I said.

  Rhonda wrote on my cup and set it on the drink counter behind her. “You hear that, Landon?”

  “Almost done with the Consort’s Adoration,” Landon said as he popped a lid on Rigel’s drink. “The queen ordered a Majesty’s Tryst?”

  I groaned and went back to leaning on the counter as Rhonda chortled.

  “Yep, you got it,” she said.

  “I hate you both,” I grumbled as Steve—being plenty tall enough—started to lick my cheek and enthusiastically wag her tail.

  Whiskers put his front boots/paws on the counter. I stood up and busied myself with pushing him off.

  “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you.” Rhonda passed Whiskers a fish shaped treat and slipped Steve a bone shaped dog cookie.

  The animals excitedly crunched their treats as I waited for my stupid coffee drink.

  Maybe this is the world’s way of telling me I need to give in and drink tea.

  “So, where’ve you been these past few months, Rigel?” Rhonda asked.

  “Out,” was Rigel’s extremely verbose response.

  Rhonda peered at him from half closed eyes, looking like a grandmother trying to decide if she should lecture or spoil a favorite grandchild. “Uh-huh. Are you intending to go ‘out’ like that again?”

  “No,” Rigel said.

  Surprised, I glanced over at my consort.

  Is he not intending to because he gets why I got upset, or…?

  “There’s no longer a point for me doing so,” he added.

  “Yeah, of course not,” I grumbled.

  I need to stop hoping. It’s going to make me crazy.

  “Majesty’s Tryst!” Landon shouted at the top of his lungs.

  “Thanks,” I snarled. I took a giant swig of my cappuccino, attempting to drink my cares away.

  Landon peered over the counter at Steve and Whiskers. “Still looking like messengers of the apocalypse, hm?”

  “Yep,” I gloomily said.

  “Huh. Weird. How do you like Consort’s Adoration?” Landon asked Rigel. “I came up with the name.”

  “Okay!” I blurted out. “It was great to see you guys but, we should go. Come on, Rigel.” I juggled the leashes until I could hold them in one hand—I didn’t have to worry about Steve and Muffin misbehaving anyway, they were too polite—and held my drink in the other as I made a mad dash for the door. “Bye Rhonda, bye Landon!”

  Rigel followed me at a more sedate saunter, which gave Rhonda plenty of time to holler back.

  “You take care—and come back the week of Valentine’s Day!” She called. “We’re giving discounts to couples then!”

  I’d been leaning into the door, but I pushed it open so hard it made the bell above the door violently jingle. “Yeah, no, thanks!” I got out of there before she could say anything else.

  Solstice was waiting for us—though he insisted on inspecting my hands for any hidden carrots before he opened the portal for us.

  “You can go through first, Rigel,” I miserably said.

  Rigel raised his eyebrows, tugged Steve’s leash from my fingers, and took the shade through.

  It wasn’t until I was stepping up to the gate myself that I realized something very important.

  Wait…Rigel said there was no point in him leaving again like that. That means he really was gone for a reason, and either he completed whatever he wanted to do…or he decided he couldn’t do whatever it was.

  Chapter Eleven

  Leila

  Since my Court had heartily voiced their enjoyment of going to the movies, in December I’d made arrangements to take my citizens to a play put on by human actors. The event had been so successful I’d had to rent the theater out for four different afternoons, and as a result, my people had caught the acting bug.

  Some of the apartment buildings in Night Court lands had organized weekly musical movies nights, and I had it on good authority that more than one fae noble had become obsessed with Phantom of the Opera and Lion King. (Even though they still had problems figuring out human money, they apparently had no issues finding the right streaming services to get access to all the plays and musicals they wanted.)

  Their obsession culminated in some of the fae organizing their own play.

  Of course, as the queen I had to support their artistic endeavors, so I’d rented out a theater in the main floor of one of the nicest hotels in Magiford, Luxe Sejour.

  Yeah, okay, I rented at a hefty discount because I had agreed to let Luxe Sejour staff take all the photos they wanted for their social media accounts and marketing endeavors, and I’d chosen a miserable weekend in winter when they charged less anyway, but that was beside the point!

  The fae scheduled a total of two showings: one matinee that the actors had forbidden me from attending—they apparently wanted to use it as a practice session—and then a night show that was supposed to be a black tie affair.

  “You know, I never thought going to the movies would incite such passion in the fae for human entertainment.” I stood in the lobby of the hotel, waiting for the play to start in my fancy dress and a silver tiara Indigo had fished out of the treasury for me. I was feeling exceptionally smug because I’d gotten Indigo to let me rewear a dress—something I was trying to make popular so my clothing budget wasn’t as horrendously wasteful.

  “It makes sense—humans are far more brilliant at it than we are,” Indigo said. “Traditional fae songs seem like they’re legally required to be sad and woeful. Humans are funny.”

  “I theorize it’s vanity,” Lady Chrysanthe said.

  I glanced curiously at my unlikely friend. I’d half expected her to be decked out like a fae noble lady with flowers and a gauzy dress—it seemed like it was the role the other fae nobles had decided to put on for the night—but Chrysanthe wore a knee length, poofy skirted dress of human design that was a pretty pink that set off her blond hair and olive colored skin.

  “Why would you call it vanity?” I asked.

  Lady Chrysanthe shrugged. “I had no idea the human species was so enthralled with supernaturals that they devoted much of their entertainment to us. Naturally, that would interest the Court once they discover just how deeply humans favor us.”

  “Yeah, favor,” I said, thinking of all the old fairy tales about the cruelty of fae and their underhanded deals.

  “Is this play an original?” Indigo asked.

  I looked down at the playbill the script writer had pushed into my hands the moment I’d arrived at the hotel. “Yeah, I think so. One of Eventide’s cousins wrote it, but he had help from a siren and mermaid with the music.”

  Something banged from within the theater, but I couldn’t see what it was since the doors to the theater were closed.

  The fae involved in this shindig claimed they weren’t going to use their magic “in honor of the art!” but the whispery, almost sticky sensation of fae magic was everywhere in the lobby, so I didn’t know if I believed them.

  I fussed with the soft, lilac-gray skirts of my evening gown and tried to discreetly glance at Rigel.

  He was still wearing his usual uniform—black boots, black pants, and a black shirt—though this one had silver embroidery on the high collar and the cuffs, which was more color than I’d ever seen on him before.

  He was standing at my side, but was about as engaged as the baby grand piano that was positioned under a gleaming spotlight next to the classy hotel bar.

  I’
d scoped the place out to see if they had coffee, but when I noticed they only served drinks in fancy crystal glasses I loped out of there fast.

  I was willing to spend cash if it increased Court morale, or kept them out of trouble, but I wasn’t going to waste money on drinks.

  “Personally, I think humans are more obsessed with vampires,” Indigo said.

  “Whatever for?” Chrysanthe tossed her head, making some of her bangs fan across her forehead since the rest of her hair was pulled back in a pretty twist. “Fae are far superior. Everyone knows vampires are just a bunch of ancient windbags who moan too much about how trains and steamboats are too modern for their tastes.”

  “I dare you to tell that to Killian Drake,” Indigo said.

  Chrysanthe scoffed.

  The two seemed engrossed in their conversation. After thinking for a moment, I shifted the tiniest bit closer to my consort.

  “Rigel?”

  He glanced down at me, his dark eyes unreadable.

  “When you left…was it because of work?” I asked.

  I’d been thinking about what he said to Rhonda—that there was no point in leaving like that again. There were a lot of reasons why leaving could be pointless, but before I’d crashed into his life, Rigel had mostly filled his life with work, which made me think it might be related to his lengthy absence.

  I’d wonder if he was doing something with Lord Dion—his longtime friend. But I saw Lord Dion during the two months Rigel was gone, and he said he hadn’t seen him and had no idea why he would leave. Work is the only logical conclusion.

  It was still a wild guess. As far as I knew Rigel hadn’t killed anyone as an assassin since I’d married him, but he was supposed to be the best, so it was pretty unlikely I’d find out, anyway.

  I studied his face, trying to figure out if I was right or not.

  Rigel stared at the wall—which was decked out in fancy gold embossed wallpaper—and audibly ground his teeth. “I was not out on a contract.” He nearly spit the words out, but once he said them he seemed weirdly pleased.