I made a gagging sound and stacked my boxes, making for my bike. “Thanks, Audra.”
All I heard in return was a muffled noise. She was already stuffing the tart in her face.
But now I had a perfect alibi to show up at Thornwood twice. I was just lucky Audra hated the Gentry even more than I did and would even prefer Sobek Street over the high-class neighborhood.
I shot through my deliveries, saving the Thornwood package for last, and even managed to pedal up the hill to the gates before sundown.
I rolled to a stop at the gates, already digging in my pockets for my ID, but the feline guard waved me on through the gate. It was already sliding open for me. “Go on.”
I paused with my hand in my pocket. “You don’t need ID?”
“You’ve been granted clearance.” The guard gave me a deadpan stare. “Unless you want to wait around to sign in?”
I shook my head, determined to be at Robin’s by six o’ clock sharp, even though this should’ve been a momentous occasion for me.
I’d been granted unfettered access to the ritziest neighborhood in Avilion, thanks to Robin.
I dropped off the gilt package on the front steps of a glittering mansion made of ice and pedaled to the back of Thornwood as the sun sank behind the trees. Dragging my bike behind the stone wall and out of sight, I didn’t even bother to check the front door, instead stomping my way through the tall grass to the back door.
It opened under my touch. I wished I’d had time to shower before showing up, covered in sweat and more glitter than a nereid stripper would use in a year, but Robin had known perfectly well what he was getting when he signed me on.
A loud, high voice filled the air as I walked into the office, shedding glitter everywhere.
“Honestly.” Sisse was perched on the desk again, wearing a dainty suit woven of hellebore petals. She perched her hands on her tiny hips. “Have you any sense whatsoever of blending with the populace?”
I looked down at my pink booty shorts and crop top. “They don’t wear this in Thornwood?” I asked innocently.
The pixie rolled her eyes and I smiled when her back was turned. Like I said. They’d known perfectly well I wasn’t going to show up in tactical gear or a suit.
“You can keep the glitter.”
Robin’s deep, sensuous voice sent an entirely welcome shiver down my spine. He descended a set of dark stairs behind me, and I found myself backing away, giving myself a bit of breathing room.
He was still just as gorgeous even without a fear-for-my-life induced adrenaline rush to heighten my senses.
Deep blue eyes looked me over. “They’ll expect glitter where you’re going.”
I resisted the urge to cross my arms over my chest. “Right. Because I’m the honeypot. Sure you don’t want to put on the miniskirt and give it a go?”
He didn’t bother to dignify that with a response, choosing instead to cross to his desk and slide open one of the drawers. “First things first. We need to go over the mission parameters.”
I just about choked on my own spit. “Mission parameters? I’m going to a nightclub, not invading the Seelie Palace.”
He was extremely good at ignoring me. Robin pulled a manila file out of the drawer and slapped it on the desk. “Have a seat. And take those wings off, I don’t need glitter all over my chairs.”
I complied, hanging the mesh wings on a hat stand and pulling up a wooden dining chair. “What’s the plan, boss? Whose pot am I honeying?”
He had graceful hands, long fingered and elegant. They matched the rest of his polished demeanor perfectly, down to the pressed white shirt and perfectly trimmed beard.
Those brilliant eyes flashed up to my face, dead serious, and I found my humor fading fast.
“You’re going to help me convict Prince Brightkin of human trafficking and breaking the Unveiled Accords.”
All my humor over this ridiculous situation vanished like a popped bubble. I sat back in my chair, staring down at the incomprehensible papers.
Prince Brightkin was second only to Queen Titania, her eldest son and the heir to the Seelie Throne. Everyone knew his thousand-watt smile and sea green eyes, because his face graced most of the tabloids on a regular basis. The subject of his potential engagement to a princess from the Autumn Court of Tír na nÓg had dominated the newspapers for most of the last three months.
And as for the Unveiled Accords… they were the only reason Avilion existed in the open, the only reason that humans and Fae could coexist at all.
They promised protection for any human in the city, that no one would be spirited away by the Wild Hunt or fed a poisonous mushroom for entertainment, that each and every human would wake up exactly as they’d gone to sleep.
Or as much as they could, anyways. I still wasn’t convinced being around even a small amount of Fae magic didn’t incontrovertibly change humans.
“There’s no way.” My voice sounded far away. Breaking the Unveiled Accords for a Lesser Fae was an immediate death sentence. There was no trial, just a swift execution in the street.
Robin shuffled the papers. “Collecting solid evidence will be difficult, but with you to grease the wheels, it’s completely possible—”
“No,” I interrupted. “I mean there’s no way Prince Brightkin is breaking the Accords. He’s…”
Robin raised an eyebrow. “‘The hottest thing since ‘Djinn Gone Wild’?” He quoted the latest tabloid with acid tones. “I hate to break this to you, but beauty doesn’t mean the soul isn’t rotten to the core.”
“I mean he can’t because he’s the heir apparent to the Seelie Throne,” I snapped. “He’s the prince.”
Robin’s full lips twisted, and he tapped the papers. “That’s why we haven’t arrested him yet. As the prince, he’s nearly untouchable, and the Queen would prefer we handle this quietly.”
A sick feeling bloomed in my stomach. A Lesser Fae would be gunned down on the spot, but the Prince practically got a free pass.
“This is extraordinarily important, Miss Appletree. I was pulled from the Ghosthand Killer case to take care of this.” He slipped a photo from the papers and slid it across the desk to me. “Prince Brightkin’s activities are putting the Accords at extreme risk. Queen Titania wants him brought under control as quickly as possible, with as much solid proof as possible when we do so. If humans are being trafficked into unregulated Fae territory…”
He didn’t bother to end it. I could guess.
More than one human activist group wanted the Unveiled Accords shut down. The loudest and most radical of them, the Unstained Souls, had been loudly in favor of nuking Avilion and wiping it off the map completely.
Fortunately, most of humanity was more enamored with us than vying to blast us into a radioactive wasteland. If they found out a high-ranking Gentry was enslaving people and shipping them out to the worst of the Solitary Fae, well… we might be looking at open warfare.
“Fine.” I looked down at the photograph in my hands and cringed.
Most of the pictures I’d seen of the Prince were of him smiling, waving to photogs, and being the most desirable bachelor in Avilion, generally speaking.
This photo was a candid shot of Brightkin passed out on a filthy floor, his face buried in the asscrack of a naked dryad. She was coated in glitter, with glimmering violet lines of evanesce, the most expensive drug in the city, still smeared across her ass. Several naked nereids and even a huldra were sprawled out over him.