When she glanced at me that strength melted back into her deep smile lines. “But I think you need to clear the air with Linus, too. That might help you feel better.”
“What’s there to clear the air about? He abandoned us, and you found someone a thousand times better,” I said.
“He had reasons, Leila.”
“What reasons could he possibly have that would make it okay to drop us?” I rolled my eyes.
“That’s not my story to tell,” Mom said. “But you need to ask him.”
“No thanks, I’ll pass.”
“Leila Grace,” Mom growled. “Given what you know, I can understand why you dislike Linus. But I—the woman who brought you into this world—am telling you that you need to talk to him. Understood?”
“Yes, Mom,” I meekly said.
Hey, I might have been an adult and the Queen of the Night Court, but when your Mom uses your middle name, you do what she says—no matter how old you are.
Mom sighed, then perked up—all hints of her inner strength gone. “I think it will make you feel better, and might make it easier for you to talk to Rigel.” She made a clicking noise with her tongue. “But don’t be afraid to make that young man squirm. I don’t want to see you two fight, but he does deserve to have his ear pulled for haring off like he did. I’d like to box his ears myself for making you sad.”
“Yeah.” I awkwardly scrubbed at my face. It still felt like Rigel had torn my heart in half, and there was a spiteful part of me that wanted to avoid talking to Linus.
But Mom told me to talk to him, and she wouldn’t tell me that just to give him yet another chance to say something uncaring and terrible.
The door opened, and Dad and Azure entered the kitchen, talking about cars.
“Bethany,” Dad called. “Where’s the peppermint tea?”
“I’ll get it!” Mom kissed me on the cheek again. “Why don’t you warm up your coffee and I’ll get out the banana cream pie I made this morning?” she asked.
“Okay.” I picked up my mug—which had a fat pony painted on it—and stood up.
When I entered the kitchen, Azure worriedly looked me over—not surprising considering I’d cried almost the whole way here.
I smiled at her.
Her returning smile bloomed into a beam, which made the brush of opalescent scales on her forehead glimmer in the kitchen light and seemed to brighten the blue tint of her skin.
No matter what happens with Rigel or Lord Linus, I have supernaturals who care about me—members of my own Court. And that’s more than I ever hoped for.
Chapter Five
Rigel
“I think that summarizes all the leads we’ve followed since you left,” Chase said.
He strode in front of me, leading the way as we followed his patrol pattern—at least once per evening he physically checked in with all of his people at their various stations.
I didn’t think Leila knew he was this diligent, but I’d learned everything I could about Night Court security when I was first made consort. Occupational habit, probably.
“The clues really drop off? You can’t scent anything different—there hasn’t been any evidence left behind?” I asked.
Chase shook his head. “The only thing we really have to go on is the weird magic Leila and any other fae have felt when facing down magic attacks. She says it’s not fae magic, and that it feels old and deadly.”
The werewolf peeled off from the main hallway and entered one of the many drawing rooms inside the mansion.
This one was strategic because it was directly beneath Leila’s and my bedrooms. As a result, Chase posted a guard by the balcony.
It was decked out in typical fae luxury—shining wooden floors with plum-colored carpets decorated with a silver flower design and dark blue walls with black crown molding. A fresco of a waxing moon was painted on the wall, and another was decorated with an enormous Japanese woodblock print of traditional Japanese tea implements.
A massive marble statue of a naiad and a dryad was placed in the center of the room, making it nearly impossible to sit in any of the luxurious couches and chairs to hold a conversation.
Leila has most likely not spent much time in this room—or she would have figured out how to sell that statue.
“Has no one been able to track the magic to a particular kind of supernatural?” I asked.
“No. But we think it’s an old magic. An elf spell was once used on Adept Hazel of House Medeis and Eminence Killian Drake. It seems unlikely there are multiple groups that would be willing to throw ancient magic around when spells are expensive and rare, so it still gives credit to the Paragon’s theory that there is an organization behind the attacks on Queen Leila.”
Chase approached the guard—a fierce troll who made no effort to hide the way she balefully eyed me over Chase’s head given her great height.
I caressed my bracers as I pondered the difficulty I’d accidentally launched myself into.
Because my geas keeps me from talking, I can’t even point them in the right direction—though if they’re looking into the magic that’s a promising start. That will lead them to the main culprits rather than the patsy they set up to hire me and do most of their dirty work. But this isn’t ideal. I didn’t know there’d been any more attempts while I was tracking down information. And Leila’s reaction was…unexpected.
I’d expected anger. But she’d cried.
I’d never seen her cry before. Not when she faced down her whole Court, not when she stood up to the other fae monarchs. Her eyes had gotten teary before, but she just got more stubborn, angrier, and bolstered through.
Until me. I made her cry.
The knowledge inspired a dull ache in my chest that I hadn’t experienced before, and was not enjoying.
Previously, I’d never inspired emotion like that. Yes, I’d made a career on my ability to incite fear, and I was used to being dreaded.
But no one had ever looked at me like I had meant something to them before I ground them under my heel.
It was…unsettling.
I wish she’d just yell at me.
I clenched my jaw and casually felt for the short sword buckled to my belt.
Why didn’t she yell? What pain could I have possibly inflicted? I’d understand if they were more convinced that I am behind some of the assassination attempts, but Chase would not be escorting me around the mansion, telling me vital knowledge if he believed that.
Chase slapped the troll guard on the back of her arm and slunk back to me, looking particularly canine as he wove through the furniture with precise movements. He motioned for me to follow him from the room. “Next station,” he said.
“Does Leila know you’re telling me all of this high security intelligence?” I asked.
Chase glanced back at me—by sheer habit I tended to walk in the shadows while he strode under the hanging lights. “You mean is she convinced you didn’t set up the trap that used your butterfly swords? Mostly—I’m inclined to agree with her.”
“Inclined to agree? You aren’t certain about me but you still tell me all of this?”
Chase flicked his yellow eyes in my direction. “Yes…well…” He trailed off when he saw two guards walking the hallways. He raised a hand to them as they saluted, and joined them, once again speaking in a lowered tone.