Fae Wolf

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

Six months later....

The master of ceremonies was supposed to open the door and announce me. But he was too busy manipulating one of the serving girls like she was a puppet on a string.

“Pick it up.” His voice was fae, which meant it was musical. But the words tinkled like broken glass rather than sparkling with the ease of wind chimes. He was enjoying causing pain.

At first, I couldn’t see what was so pain-inducing about the stooped young woman his maliciousness was focused on. But as I came closer, I made out a long-legged being on the ground in front of her. The fuzzy spider—nearly as large as her palm—tried to scuttle up the girl’s sleeve and her entire body quivered in reaction. She slammed her free hand down around the fabric but didn’t attempt to shake the spider loose.

Didn’t because she couldn’t. The master of ceremonies was grinning so wide his words were distorted: “Now open up your mouth.”

Melissa. That was her name. I remembered the young woman arriving a month ago, pink-cheeked and happy and seeming more like a being of earth than of Faery. Now, she folded in on herself as she tried to cringe away from her own hand. “Sir. Please. Don’t make me.”

Her tormentor shook his head as if she was a recalcitrant child refusing to eat her Brussels sprouts. “Melissa, Melissa, Melissa.”

And the young woman’s mouth gaped open. She had no choice other than to obey since her true name was known by one and all.

The master of ceremonies, in contrast, hid his true name the way all strong fae did. Which meant getting him to back down would require a different approach.

On earth, I would’ve kicked the guy in the balls then called the cops on him. Here, I couldn’t afford to make quite so many waves.

Still, I wasn’t about to let Melissa be terrorized in front of me. So I cleared my throat then launched into diversionary tactics. “You do realize your shoelaces are untied?”

The distraction worked. The master of ceremonies relinquished his control over Melissa as he glanced down at his own footwear, which was pretty stupid of him since his knee-high boots were held in place with copper zippers. “I don’t think...” he began before snapping his mouth shut.

The instant he realized he’d been tricked, a flash of something fiery surged out of him. The heat singed my skin and it wasn’t even aimed at me.

It was aimed at Melissa and the impulse wasn’t restricted to making her eat spiders either. The master of ceremonies intended to follow in his Queen’s footsteps and resort to physical t*****e.

He intended...but he didn’t succeed. Because Melissa had already skittered away down the corridor. Zip Boots couldn’t leave his post to go after her. And his attention span had proven short in the past.

Problem solved.

Without giving him time to turn his maliciousness in my direction, I yanked open the door for myself and entered the presence of a Queen who made the master of ceremonies look like a plush teddy bear. Still, spunk was my only armor against the fae, so I waved as if the Unseelie Court’s monarch was a random acquaintance.

“Hi,” I started. Then, once her perfectly chiseled eyebrows dropped into a glower, I added “—ness. Silent G and H. But you heard them. Right, Your Majesty?”

Last time I’d been this insolent, the Queen of the Unseelie Court had threatened to string me up by my toenails. But we’d both known it was an idle threat. Unlike everyone else in the vicinity, I was a mortal. If the Queen broke me, I’d stay broken. My changeling status made me too entertaining to waste in a fit of pique.

I waited for the flash of anger as the Queen worked through that well-worn mental pathway. Instead, she simply shook her head.

“I don’t have time for your antics, pup.”

Yes, here in Faery I was considered a child, and not because of any cloak magic. After all, if you live forever, twenty-five years is the blink of an eye.

I wanted to make the most of my remaining eye blinks, so I dropped into a genuflection so deep it was almost parody. And...my nemesis ignored that also. Something had to be going on.

“You’re certain you saw it.” While my head was down, the Queen had turned away to address a fae who didn’t look familiar to me. Not a Court fae. Or maybe a Court fae who’d donned a different glamour. It was confusing hanging out with beings able to change their physical aspects at will.

Which, I mean, I could also. Just in a slightly different way...and, for the last six months, only with the Queen’s consent.

“I’m certain, Your Majesty,” the fae answered. His voice was so soft I could barely hear it. He was terrified of the Queen, and I realized why when she spoke next.

“You’re certain...or you think bringing false information will save you from punishment? I didn’t grant permission for you to leave last Samhain.” The Queen crooked one finger, waiting until the guy shuffled three minuscule steps forward. Only then did she purr out an ice-loaded order. “Tell me again what you saw.”

“I”—he gulped, a tremor running across his face then down his throat—“I saw your son pull a sword out of the ground. One moment there was nothing but pavement. The next moment a gleaming weapon was present. It had to be the Kingmaker.”

“Soon to be known as the Queenmaker,” our covetous monarch murmured. Then, louder: “We’ll see about that.”

She snapped her fingers and Mr. I-Forgot-My-Boots-Zip stopped hovering in the doorway so he could roll a vast silver mirror away from the wall. Until two seasons ago, this is what the Queen had used to spy on the human realm. Now....

I scrambled up out of my genuflection and inserted myself into their conversation. “In case you’ve forgotten,” I told the Queen unhelpfully, “you sealed the borders after your son fled.”

“In case you’ve forgotten,” she countered, “I have ways of boosting my reach.”

So that’s why I was here. For one split second, I closed my eyes and dropped deep inside myself to where a wolf waited.

“Skye.” My name on the Queen’s tongue was harsh.

But I wasn’t fae so I was able to ignore her. To whisper to my other self: Hide.

The wolf’s ears twitched once. A searing pain shot through me, as if someone had stabbed my kidney with an icicle. Then my fur form was gone, hidden so deep inside that I couldn’t have shifted if I wanted to.

“Skye.” The Queen’s temper had always been short, but today her repetition of my name was redolent with something darker. Where her lackey had turned hot in his annoyance, she instead seemed to suck all oxygen out of the air.

Perhaps it was time to stop playing games.

I opened my eyes and bowed my head. “Your Majesty. I choose my left shoulder.”

Shoelaceless was pushing up my sleeve, hands rough, when the Queen’s voice slapped both of us. “Did I say you had a choice in the matter?”

The resulting silence was deafening. My sleeve dropped back down over my wrist as the Queen’s lackey stumbled back.

For an endless moment, we all waited. Then, deciding that the Queen wanted an answer to her rhetorical question, I provided one.

“No, Your Majesty.” Deep, apologetic bow. “My mistake.” Deeper bow, which ended up cracking my forehead against the throne arm. Ow.

The Queen’s smugness cupped me. She hadn’t cared what I answered. She just wanted to prove she could make me kowtow.

Well, mission accomplished. Turning away, she addressed He-Who-Didn’t-Know-What-He-Was-Wearing-On-His-Smelly-Feet. “Tattoo her cheek.”

I winced. That would be painful...and would also make it harder to blend in during trading missions.

If, that is, the border ever reopened.

But I knew when to cut my losses. I tilted my head and waited for the needle to push into the thin skin over my left cheekbone. My wolf’s steadfastness would have proven handy at this moment, but I’d told her to hide.

So I gritted my teeth and bore the pain as a fae only a quarter as evil as his mistress tattooed strength and energy out of my skin.

***