by K. M. Shea
Not out on work, then. But he phrased that pretty carefully. And it seemed like a physical struggle. Why?
I mashed my lips together, the slightly waxy sensation of my lipstick making the expression extra satisfying. “Rigel, is it…have you been ignoring my questions about where you’ve been because you can’t say why?”
He didn’t speak or nod, but his cheek twitched, making me pretty sure I’d hit the bullseye and he just couldn’t confirm it.
He narrowed his eyes and glared at the cream marble tiled floor.
I hesitated, then set my hand on his forearm. “Is everything okay?” When he stared at me, I quickly amended, “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Rigel said. “I didn’t leave for my sake.”
That doesn’t at all narrow the field of what he can’t talk about. But…maybe he’s under a geas?
When a fae lord had put my life in danger to try to undermine Chrysanthe, he’d been put under a geas that kept him from telling us where he’d gotten a magic spell that contained the same ancient, sharp magic Chase had been trying to track down.
At the time I’d asked Rigel if he’d ever been under a geas. He didn’t say he was, but he didn’t correct me when I assumed he had been. Could he possibly be under a geas now?
Having plenty to muse on for the rest of the evening, I started to edge away from Rigel, intending to rejoin Indigo and Chrysanthe.
Just after my fingers lifted from Rigel’s forearm, he caught my hand.
I paused and peered back at him.
He didn’t look tense, but there was zero emotion in his face to give me any kind of gauge for what was going on. “Rigel?”
He glanced at me, then stared down at our clasped hands.
We still haven’t talked about me loving him—I was starting to think that alone was a response. But if that’s the case, what is he doing?
My stomach did flips in my gut when he intertwined our fingers. My cheeks heated up—I’m sure in a very attractive tomato red blush.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said in an observational tone.
Based on the spreading heat in my face, I was pretty sure my blush was traveling down my neck. “That’s, um, thanks. Yeah,” I babbled with great eloquence.
I don’t think he’s ever complimented me like this before.
Like an idiot, I took a step closer to him.
Rigel glanced at me again, and this time there was a slight upward curve to his lips that was pretty much a smile for Mr. Expressionless, especially when paired with the warm glint in his eyes.
The silence between us felt thick, especially when the slight curve to Rigel’s smile threatened to grow.
I mean, Rigel was handsome all the time, but when he smiled he could kill someone with his looks.
I was aware—very aware—when he slightly rotated his wrist, moving our hands into a casual position, signaling he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. His hand was comfortably cool—hopefully mine wasn’t clammy or sweaty, though it probably was given my luck.
He rubbed the top of my hand with his thumb, and all of my innards turned to jelly, because I totally acted like an adult when it came to holding hands with the guy I loved.
Yeah. Right.
Rigel seemed like he was going to say something, but then he looked down at our hands again, and his smile faded.
Wondering what had changed his expression, I peered at our hands, too. I didn’t see anything different. Just our intertwined fingers—though since I’d stepped closer to him my forearm brushed against his bracers—which hid two of his daggers.
He abruptly let go of my hand and fiddled with his bracer.
I cleared my throat—feeling a little stupid that holding his hand got me flustered.
Wow, do I have it bad.
When I saw Rigel very purposefully tuck his hands behind his back, I felt like a whole new level of stupid. Maybe first-class stupid.
I’ve got to get a grip. Whatever that was, we were clearly thinking way, way, way differently.
The realization made my stomach squeeze uncomfortably, but I forced a smile and finally turned to Indigo and Chrysanthe when Eventide scurried across the lobby.
His goat hooves frantically tapped on the marble tiles as he made his way over to me, folded himself in a deep bow I’d been trying to break him of for months, then made a flourishing gesture. “The monarchs have arrived,” he said in a quivering voice.
As if they’d been waiting for an introduction for the sake of giving them the perfect entrance, the monarchs I’d invited to attend the play swirled into the lobby, dressed to the nines and walking together like a group of cool kids sauntering through a school cafeteria.
Verdant—Queen of the Spring Court—was dressed in a very classy long sleeved, hunter green gown with a thigh high slit. She walked with Rime—Queen of the Winter Court—who was dressed in a light blue lace gown that set off her pure white hair to perfection.
Behind them trailed Birch—the Summer King—scowling in his tuxedo and escorting his timid but beautiful wife, Consort Flora—who was also dressed in an evening gown for the occasion.
They were chatting with King Solis of the Day Court—my favorite monarch who was also a pretty close friend. He’d also gotten the memo about the evening wear, so he was in a tuxedo—though his black bowtie was threaded with gold for a tiny dash of color.
Bringing up the end was Fell of the Autumn Court—who I disliked because he tended to be a bully, though I noticed he was also wearing a tuxedo, peer pressure?—and the Paragon.
The monarchs present—plus me and excluding the Paragon—made up the Midwest Fae Ring. Together we made all the decisions for the region, including the less powerful Courts beneath us. Queen Rime of the Winter Court was the most powerful of us all, which was why I’d been incredibly grateful that she supported me when I asked to be made the fae rep for the Committee of Magic.
The Paragon was the top fae in the United States—though if you asked him about it he’d say he was a representative and not our leader. He didn’t have much more patience for fae antics than I did. He’d been hanging around the Midwest for months, now. He’d once said he was searching for someone in the area, but hadn’t revealed the details.
Unlike the others, he was dressed in robes—though his outer robe was black and his inner tunic was white, which somewhat mimicked a tuxedo’s style—and he carried three giant bouquets of flowers.
I was a little surprised by the monarchs’ clothes. Fae had the tendency to use clothes to indicate the different roles they put on and off. I’d mostly seen this group in traditional fae garb—gauzy dresses that were stupidly difficult to ride in and fancy tunics with random pieces of armor as accent pieces.
This was only the second time I was seeing them in more stylish—but very human—evening wear.
Are they dressing this way to show they’re accepting human entertainment?
I slapped on a smile as they got close enough that I could hear the swish of Verdant’s and Rime’s gowns. “Good evening! I’m glad you could all make it!”
“I would die before I missed it,” Verdant said dramatically. When the others stopped she moved forward, briefly taking my hand in hers and squeezing it.
After Solis, I was most friendly with her. She’d hated me when we initially met, but I helped save one of her spring stags—a gorgeous white deer—and she’d made an effort to be friendly ever since.
“What are we even doing?” Fell irritably shoved his fists into the pockets of his slacks.
“I told you in the invite, my Court is producing a play,” I said.
“Should be a great time!” the Paragon chortled. He scratched his nose, then tried to throw his impressively long, silvery white beard over his shoulder as he clutched his horde of flowers in one arm.
“A play is a story performance, yes?” Consort Flora asked. “We’ve seen plenty of those.”
“Yeah—though the subject matter for human plays tends to be more…mode
rn than the topics of most fae music or poetry recitals,” I said.
“I can’t wait!” The Paragon flapped one of the bouquets at me. “I intend to throw a flower on stage every time someone amuses me!”
“Is that a human custom?” Verdant asked.
“Absolutely,” the Paragon said.
“Uh, actually you’re supposed to wait until the performance is over,” I said, but was completely ignored by the powerful fae.
“This is going to be marvelous.” The Paragon snorted and almost inhaled one of his long mustache hairs, then scowled down at his beard with irritation.
“It figures Queen Leila’s Court would become smitten with human forms of entertainment,” Fell sneered.
“If that was an attempt to look down on my human blood, it failed,” I told Fell. “Because I’m pretty chuffed that I have it.”
“You take pleasure in unholy things,” Fell said.
“Yeah, and you’re a jerk,” I agreed.
When he glared at me I winked and pointed to the lobby door. “Want to settle this outside? I brought my truck.”
“Cretin.” Though his words dripped with disdain, I didn’t miss the way Fell pointedly turned away from the door.
Queen Rime peered into her gray handbag—probably looking for her cellphone, she was a cellphone game addict, though I hadn’t been able to figure out what it was that she played all the time. “Why did you even come, Fell?”
“Why, you ask?” Fell raised an eyebrow. “I’d never miss a chance to see how the Night Court has decayed, especially since—” Fell jumped about three feet backwards when he flicked his eyes to me and he must have finally noticed Rigel standing behind me.
“Consort Rigel.” Consort Flora very properly tipped her head in a slight bow to Rigel.
King Birch didn’t look nearly so put together as he stepped around his wife so he stood closer to Rigel than she did—which was both cute and unnecessary.
Before he’d gone off doing…whatever, Rigel and I had both agreed that Fell was the monarch we’d most like to punch.
“Ahh, Rigel! You’re here! Where’ve you been, lad?” The Paragon tried to slap Rigel on the back, but he struggled to hold all his flowers, so it was more like a weak nudge. “It was very bold of you to leave your lovely wife among the jackals of fae society.”
“Not really,” Rigel said. “She’s far more powerful than the jackals.”
“Oh, I wasn’t referring to people with the desire to hurt her. Just the opposite, if you know what I mean.”
I didn’t get it. Judging by the wrinkle in Verdant’s forehead and Birch’s utterly lost expression I wasn’t the only one.
But it must have meant something to Rigel because he stared the Paragon down.
The Paragon—impervious to Rigel—winked. “Ooh, they opened the doors! Does that mean we can go in?”
He bounced over to the doors, the tissue paper wrapped around his three bouquets crinkling loudly.
Skye stepped out of the theater and bowed to the Paragon, before drifting to my side. “Queen Leila? They’re ready for you.”
“Great. Let’s go in and get our seats.” I marched for the theater, beaming when Solis joined me.
He was handsome with his sunshine-gold hair, and the faint wrinkles around the corners of his eyes gave him a softer look than the other monarchs. He looked like he was in his early forties—which meant he had to be older than Lord Linus.
“I’m glad to see Rigel has returned,” Solis murmured to me—he was the one monarch I’d told that Rigel had disappeared, the others just assumed Rigel was off doing “business” as an assassin.
“Yeah, me too,” I reluctantly agreed. I flashed the king a brief smile when we paused at the doors of the theater.
Eventide was waiting for us. “This way, if you please, Queen Leila, King Solis.” He trotted down the aisle, leading us into the theater.
Done up in colors of gold and scarlet, the four-floored theater was a thing of beauty.
A giant crystal chandelier that had to be bigger than I was hung from the vaulted ceiling—which was decorated with fancy white molding and gold painted flourishes.
White and gold columns framed the stage—which was covered by a classic scarlet red theater curtain with gold accents—and the rows of velvet seats where slanted slightly, so the seats and aisles tilted down, making it easier to see.
The sitting area of the theater was somewhat bell shaped. All four floors of seats wouldn’t have a problem viewing the stage.
I’d seen pictures of the theater online when I booked the place, but going down the stairs to the main floor, I could see it was more awe inspiring than pictures could convey.
Remembering I needed to play the part of good host, I turned to Solis. “How is the Day Court these days?”
“The same as we have been,” he mildly said. It was very nice of him given that he could have easily wiped in my face how well the Day Court was doing compared to the Night Court.
“When winter leaves us,” he continued, “I was thinking perhaps our Courts could have a joint riding excursion in one of the nature preserves.”
“I am always down to ride.” We kept following Eventide as he took us past rows and rows of seats. “And if we can write it off as a fae social, that means I won’t have to take my Court anywhere that month!”
King Solis laughed—a sound that felt like sunbeams warming a cold room. “As usual, I must admire your cleverness. The Night Court has no idea how blessed they are to have you as their queen.”
“Yeah, I don’t know if they’d ever call themselves blessed,” I joked. “The state of the Day Court is still an aspiration—and looks like it’s going to be for a long time at the rate we’re going.” I tried not to sigh as I thought of the nearly ruined Night Realm.
“You’ll take things in hand soon,” Solis assured. “You’ve already done immeasurably more than anybody could expect.”
Our conversation ended when Eventide finally stopped.
The faun gestured to the middle of three rows—which were all roped off with fancy gold cord. “You may sit anywhere in these three rows. They were all reserved for your viewing pleasure.” When he bowed three times in a row, I glanced behind me and realized Rigel, the Paragon, and the rest of the monarchs had followed us.
“Excellent! See you, chaps!” The Paragon scooted his way down the first row and sat in the dead center, spreading out his bouquets on either side for easy access.
I studied the rows of chairs. “Thanks, Eventide.”
“Of course. Is something not to your liking, my Sovereign?” he asked, dancing back and forth on his hooves.
“No, I’m just surprised where they wanted us to sit—we’re taking up so many seats,” I said.
“Oh, to quote my cousin, ‘it is what the acting troupe wished for,”” Eventide said. “They wanted to make sure all the actors could see you from any place on the stage.”
“Oh.” I awkwardly scratched my wrist. “Um. That’s not really how it’s supposed to work…”
“Just take a seat, Night Queen,” Birch grumbled. He marched down the third row and checked several seats before choosing spots for himself and Flora.
Verdant chose to sit next to Flora, while Rime and Solis seated themselves a few spaces down from the Paragon.
I decided to go for the currently empty center row and picked my way down it, pausing when I tried to figure out exactly which seat I wanted.
I heard footsteps behind me. I peered back in time to see Fell taking a step to follow me.
Rigel snagged him by the collar of his tuxedo jacket and held him in place.
Chapter Twelve
Leila
Rigel slipped in front of the Autumn King, and glanced back at him. His face was expressionless as usual—he didn’t glare or growl like most faceoffs between male supernaturals. He arched one eyebrow a little at Fell, then turned his back to the king with a very obvious lack of concern as he joined me.
Fell blinked rapidly, narrowed his eyes, then reluctantly stepped into the row after Rigel—throwing himself into a seat with a bored expression.
I still hadn’t sat down—I was too surprised by Rigel’s display—or lack of.
Comparing power or dominance or whatever between supernaturals was usually pretty showy and involved long stare downs, sneers, maybe some growls.
But Rigel hadn’t done any of them. He’d been unconcerned—showing just how tiny a threat he thought Fell was.
I studied Rigel, who was watching me blandly.
For someone who dislikes politics he pulled that off perfectly.
“Are you going to sit?” Rigel asked, restarting my brain.
“Yeah, yeah!” I blindly sat down, realizing I’d parked directly behind the Paragon, and that Flora was seated behind me.
Verdant leaned forward in her chair as the rest of my Court rapidly filled up the seats. “What is the subject matter of the play?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “But they were very insistent that they didn’t want to use magic for their special effects, and intended to give us an ‘authentic human performance.’”
The Paragon turned around in his seat to peer back at me. “I hope it’s a tragic romance—those are the best! Speaking of which…” He sat on his knees so he could lean in and whisper to me. “You and Rigel ought to drop by my pocket realm sometime. You look like you both need some tea—picked out by Aphrodite of course.”
“Paragon, I greatly respect you, but you are never going to get me to try your drugged tea,” I said.
“It isn’t drugged, just enhanced,” the Paragon sniffed.
“It’s charmed—which is even worse,” Rigel said. Apparently our whispered conversation wasn’t quiet enough.
The Paragon scowled at him. “And how would you know that?”
Rigel blinked. “I looked.”
“You did break into my pocket realm—you rude boy! The least you could have done was bring me a house warming gift as a thank you!”
The theater lights dimmed, and the Paragon excitedly faced forward, pulling his first flower from a bouquet.