Judging by the keycard that hung from the lanyard tucked into his sweater vest, he was a Curia Cloisters employee.
“Yes?” I smiled at him, hoping he didn’t have more paperwork for me that I needed to go over.
Why did no one warn me about the huge amounts of red tape and paperwork I’d have to deal with as part of this fae rep gig?
He nervously shifted. “If it’s not too much, and if you don’t mind…that is…”
Indigo raised her eyebrows at him. “Yes?” she prodded.
“Could I take a picture with you?” He awkwardly held up his phone. “My daughter thinks my job is boring, but she’s a huge fan of yours. If I can get a picture with you…” he trailed off again.
“Of course. Here, let’s take a selfie.” Since I was a couple inches taller than him—thank you, fae blood—I took the phone, switched it to the right set of cameras, then stretched my arm out in front of us. “Say Night Court,” I joked.
“Night Court!” he said.
I took a few pictures for him, then passed the cellphone back.
“Thank you!” He beamed at me.
“Of course! I hope this earns you some points with her.” I waved, and—feeling kind of awkward—edged my way down the hallway.
“It will,” he assured me. “Thanks again!” He bowed to me, then looked down at his phone—probably going through the pictures I’d taken.
Feeling oddly shy, I hurried down the hallway at double the speed.
Indigo had to jog to keep up. “You know, you’re the only fae monarch I know of who frequently gets stopped to take pictures.”
“I’m also the only fae monarch who goes out into society with the rest of the world,” I said.
“Give yourself some credit—it’s more than that,” Indigo scoffed. “You’re practically a local celebrity given how frequently you’re trending on social media.”
“It feels weird,” I said. “Like I’m an imposter or something.”
“There is no other Night Court Queen besides you,” Indigo reminded me. “You were selected by the night mares themselves.”
“Yeah, I know. It still feels weird that someone would want to have a picture of me.”
“Who cares? What’s most important is that your popularity among the humans has King Fell of the Autumn Court grinding his teeth with his competitive streak,” Indigo said as we stopped to pick up our coats.
“Now that is something to celebrate,” I said.
“Exactly!” Indigo pulled her winter hat on. She glanced at me, and I smiled for her benefit.
Really, that raw feeling hadn’t quite gone away from my chest, but there wasn’t much I could do about it.
I loved Rigel, and he’d left me.
There was no way around it.
I need to focus on the things that matter. Like Indigo, and that I’m lucky she’s my friend. I set my shoulders as I wrapped a scarf around my neck, determined to forget my uncaring consort.
Chapter Two
Rigel
The scent of smoke wafted around me as I threw another paper on the fire.
The paper—imbedded with magic—glowed blue before the flames ate it, turning it to ash.
It was over.
After a nearly two-month long investigation I was cleaning house. All I had left to do was to destroy the paper artifacts I hadn’t used—a reasonably large loss considering I was essentially burning one-of-a-kind tools used by fae to control wild magic. But it was necessary.
In an effort to cover my tracks I had exclusively used these books and scrolls to wield magic instead of my usual arsenal of bladed weapons. Destroying them would keep anyone from tracing them back to me—something I couldn’t allow.
I tossed another paper on the fire, a muscle twitching in my cheek. I didn’t even spare the bodies of the creatures surrounding me a second glance.
There were two giant spiders whose legs still twitched as they died, but most of the monsters were made of a shadow-y magic, and they disintegrated, fading away as I burned the artifacts I had used to defeat them.
One of the spiders righted itself and took a scuttling step toward me.
I held up a scroll. “Liber.”
The scroll glowed, channeling wild magic into a form I could use. Forming the rune I wanted with my mind, I tossed magic at the spider.
Flames engulfed the arachnid, burning white hot and killing it instantly. I watched dispassionately as the flames turned the spider to ash and burned for several more moments before I cut the magic off and the spell flickered out and died.
I tossed the scroll on the fire, confident that the fiend who’d sent the monsters—both the spiders and shadow monsters, which were now mere piles of ash—would never know I’d uncovered their secret.
But it doesn’t matter if I can’t tell anyone!
When I’d left Leila and the Night Court, it was with the intention of uncovering who was responsible for all the assassination attempts on her life.
I’d been hired to try to kill her—before I knew she’d been bound as queen, making me unable to harm her due to the magic of the Court.
I suspected the person who had hired me was still trying to kill her, but the attacks on her life had been so erratic since she’d become queen back in May, it occurred to me that it was likely more than one being was targeting her. When I’d set out two months go, it was with the intention of figuring out who—besides my original employer—was behind it all.
And I failed. Or rather, my success became my failure.
I gritted my teeth and dumped the last two artifacts I’d used during this venture—two priceless scrolls—on the fire. I waited until they burned to ashes before I kicked snow over the coals and stamped the flames out.
Assured the fire was destroyed, I adjusted the collar of my jacket and walked into the shadows.
It was snowing hard—soon my tracks would be covered, hiding the last traces of my presence. Leila’s enemy would never know I discovered their trail.
But I’d also be unable to tell Leila or any of her people who her shadowy enemy was.
It all came back to the contract I’d accepted back in May, when I’d been hired to try assassinating her.
I’d never before regretted anything in my life. It seemed like fate was going to punish me by pouring out a lifetime of misery in this one instance.
When I took on the contract I entered into a standard clause designed to protect my employer and myself—a geas.
The geas kept me from revealing who my employer was, as well as the finer details of the contract—it worked in the reverse as well in that my employer couldn’t reveal I’d done a job for them.
I hadn’t questioned the use of a strong geas before. Which was how Leila’s enemy had neatly pinned me.
In uncovering that they were actually working with the unknown second party that was more successfully trying to harm Leila, the geas meant I couldn’t talk about them or their associates.
I knew exactly who was attempting to harm her, and even how they’d done it, but the geas rendered me unable to tell anyone, and the terms of my contract—even though canceled—meant I couldn’t kill them myself. Though I’d tried. Multiple times.