Then it was time to see what horrors the wardrobe had in store for me. I opened the doors to a riot of sequins and lace.
At least the wardrobe had picked up on what I’d need. Not a single dress looked like it would come within miles of mid-thigh, and most of them had plunging necklines.
I chose a minidress of black leather, studded with deep blue spangles, and grabbed a handful of jewelry shining in a velvet box.
With the chains draped over my shoulders and throat and hanging down my exposed back, the ring didn’t stand out as odd at all. I touched it nervously while examining myself in the mirror.
Did I look like the kind of nymph that would party hard with princes?
The wardrobe’s doors flew open. It belched a pair of black stilettos onto the carpet, then slowly closed itself again.
“You’re very helpful,” I told it. “Feel free to move into my apartment.”
The wardrobe didn’t move.
I felt a little like a newborn deer, wobbling around on the six-inch heels. When I could walk a straight line without keeling over, I finally grabbed a wristlet large enough to fit my phone and extra lip gloss and descended the stairs to meet Robin.
He was sitting at his desk again, typing something on a sleek Acorn laptop. The sound of my sharp heels hitting the wooden floor made him look up, and his hand froze over the keyboard.
A tense moment passed, the air between us strung as tight as a wire. His eyes were hard, but not cold, as though he were a tiger on a chain, lusting to take a bite and unable to get close enough.
Sisse wolf-whistled at me, raising a tiny mug of cream. “Oh, Robin. If I were five feet taller, I’d be all over that.”
He didn’t move, his gaze dropping to my very exposed legs. He looked… hungry.
“Thanks for your vote of confidence, Sisse. I’m ready, boss.” I kept my tone brisk and professional. “Where are we going?”
Robin closed the laptop and stood up, his hand absently drifting to his collar. “Myrage. It’s been Brightkin’s most frequent haunt lately.” Thankfully, he sounded as cool and business-like as I did, collecting himself swiftly. “I’m going in with you.”
“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of sending me in?” I asked, stuffing my new phone in the wristlet. “If he sees his mother’s fixer sitting there, he’s not going to be collecting random nymphs to party with him.”
“That’s what a glamour is for. If I stay far enough away, I’ll be able to watch everything without my cover being blown.” He took cufflinks out of the drawer and began fiddling at his wrists, deliberately not looking at me.
“I did consider using one to go after him myself, but being a high level Gentry…” Robin shrugged. “I’d need an extraordinarily powerful glamour to disguise myself as a female nymph and hide my own magic signature within several feet of him. He’d sense me within moments. But this will be a much more minor illusion.”
He twisted the other cufflink, and the air seemed to ripple around him in a heatwave. A second later, Robin was no longer standing there in a suit.
He’d become a Gentry male with messy scarlet hair and dark eyes, his tie loosened and collar unbuttoned carelessly. It was a perfect approximation of the young corporate climbers in the Seelie Court, especially the ones who worked in PR and tried hard to appeal to humans.
He looked down at himself. “It takes much less magic to work with what I already am. A male Gentry, that’s close enough to my natural essence. A female nymph… much less so.”
I appreciated that he said nymph, not Lesser.
“What a pair we make.” I strode towards the door. “Let’s get this show started. I still have work tomorrow.”
Robin cut me off. “Not that way. This way.” He tried out a grin, sinking into the character, and even his voice sounded different now: younger, more relaxed. “I haven’t forgotten your nonsense job, don’t worry.”
“It’s an honest living,” I snapped.
Robin held up a hand in compliance. “Fair enough. My apologies.”
Instead of going through the back, he led me through a door I hadn’t seen before and down a set of concrete stairs. “Is this where you hide the bodies, boss?”
Lights flickered on, and I drew up short. It wasn’t a basement but a garage, and several cars gleamed under the bright lights.
He held up the keys to a dark sports car. “Only the ones I want you to find.”
I snorted. “This isn’t practice flirtation time. Your job is to sit in the corner and make sure I’m not abducted, not pick up Gentry party-girls.”
“I’m not picking anyone up.” He tossed his head, flicking scarlet hair out of his eyes. “I will make sure you’re safe, Miss Appletree.”
He opened the passenger door for me, and I carefully climbed in. The leather seat cradled me, silky smooth and black as night.
When he got in behind the wheel and pushed a button on the console, I was trying to touch as little of the seat as possible. “Boss. I’m getting glitter all over your car.”
Everywhere my skin touched left a streak of shimmer behind. It was my worst nightmare. Getting lotion all over a car I wouldn’t be able to afford if I slaved away my entire life.
He looked at the shimmer on the seat, then my bare legs, and shrugged. “Occupational hazard of hiring a honeypot, I suppose.”
But under the roar of the car starting, I could’ve sworn he muttered, “Worth it.”
Then Robin sent the car careening down a dark passage, towards a shining, mirror-like wall.
I closed my eyes and gripped the seat to brace for impact, questioning the sanity of working for a man like this.
But we didn’t hit a wall, there was no breaking glass, and I heard a car horn blare outside my window.
I opened my eyes. We were speeding down the Mainway, the largest highway in Avilion, and Robin merged us into the traffic like it was second nature.
He noticed me looking at him. “It’s a portal,” he said defensively.
“You could’ve warned me.”
“It deposits the car in any empty space on the main highway.”
“I would’ve liked to know we weren’t about to die. That’s all I’m saying.”
Robin wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel, cheerfully speeding up and passing a blue oceanic sports car painted with electric yellow stripes. “There was absolutely zero chance of death.”
My heart was still pounding in my throat. I realized I was clinging to my seatbelt for dear life and slowly pried my fingers away. I had to admit, it was a hell of a great method for getting on the Mainway, which was usually backed up.
“Okay. So… what should my name be?” I looked out the window as we rounded the Seelie Palace. At night, the spires were lit like white fire, gleaming in shades of azure, scarlet, and gold. “I can’t go introducing myself by my real name.”
“Look in your bag,” he said. “I took the liberty of making you a fake ID.”
I’d left my real ID in the pocket of my Fairy Ferry shorts, which were currently in a heap on the bedroom floor of his house, but the wristlet had something hard and thin inside, pressed up against my phone.
I pulled out the fake ID and held it up to the passing lights. My picture was on it, but the name read Cress Willowtree.