His eyebrows rise in surprise. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?” I ask irritably.
“Arden redecorated my entire room in all these different shades of blue. She got rid of all the old furniture and brought in new, comfortable stuff. It blew me away,” he admits, describing all the various changes. “It’s luxurious but comfortable.”
This must have been the surprise she worked on before we left for the Kingdom of Dragons. “If it’s anything like the lounge, I’m sure it’s fantastic,” I say shortly. “We’ve got to get going if we’re going to make it back in time for the meeting this afternoon.”
“What meeting?” he asks, then grimaces when he hears his phone ping.
“The one I just sent out to everyone,” I reply. Opening a portal, I step through and he follows.
When we step out the other side, he gives a little shudder. If there’s one place an Underworlder doesn’t like, it’s the land of the Fae, especially the light Fae. Everything is superficially bright and unsuspectingly deadly. Without warning, the prettiest flower can turn carnivorous and chase after you, especially if you are not light Fae.
“You might want to look away,” I remind him before turning up the summer side of my heritage and dimming my winter side. Holding my hands out in front of me, I watch while they turn from pale white to bronze with beams of light shining out of them. It’s my least favorite form, but it’s better to be the lion than the mouse in the light Fae kingdom.
We head toward the nearby village, where my records show one of the MacAllister witches lived shortly after the massacre. Even though Arden’s other half is Elven, there’s always a chance the witch moved there after she lived here, so it’s better to check out every lead and rule it out.
Finding the inn, I leave Daire outside while I ask the innkeeper a few questions. Nobody is going to answer my questions with the prince of death and doom at my side, especially when he’s constantly smiling. It’s unnerving.
Thankfully, longevity of life means long memories, but it didn’t even take the Fae more than a minute to recall the witch.
“Sima moved here a little over twelve hundred years ago. She was a nice young witch, not like most, and we welcomed her into the village. She would often bring cakes and other sweets to the market and sell them for money. She was an outstanding baker,” he says fondly, patting his stomach. “We started placing orders for her to supply the inn with her goods, and she usually came into town once a week to deliver. One day, she met another Fae named… Hold on, let me think.” He scratches his head and stares off into the distance. “I think his name was Rivan. Anyway, they fell in love not long after. She seemed happy, until one day, we heard a boom and smoke started rising from the trees. When we got there, the entire place had been blown apart. We found pieces of her in the rubble. Given she was human, we buried her and put up a marker.” His voice is gruff when he gets to the end.
“When did this happen? And what happened to Rivan?” I ask suspiciously. I’ve met one Rivan in my life, and he serves the Queen of the Light Fae. He arrived sometime close to this period, if I recall. Does the queen know about his past?
“Probably about a year after she arrived. He was gone. We assumed he blew up too, but weren’t sure,” he answers, shaking his head like something bothers him about that fact, then he gives me directions to her grave.
“If you find out who did this, make sure they pay, will you?” His voice is hard when he asks. “She was the nicest young woman I’ve ever met and the best baker. She deserved better.”
My voice is soft when I reply, “They all did.” He gives me a puzzled glance, and I nod in agreement.
Stepping outside, I notice Daire is surrounded by Fae males with scowls on their faces, and I laugh.
He snarls. “It’s not funny. You took your damn time.” He moves to the side to let me step up beside him. When the Fae see me, they slowly back away. They probably don’t get many Fae lords in these outskirts, maybe just the few who stay the night at the inn.
“Come on,” I tell him, motioning for him to follow. A couple of miles outside of town, I find an old marker with the name “Sima” on it, red roses growing wildly around it. It’s not a flower found in Fae, so I have to guess Rivan planted it.
I tell Daire the story the innkeeper told me. “Rivan showed up to work for the queen not too long after. I don’t know if he’s hiding or if he drifted there after she died, but I find it suspicious. I’ll send a text to Solandis and see if she can make discreet inquiries.”
“It does sound odd, but I wouldn’t dismiss it. Alain taught me betrayal can come from those closest to you,” he murmurs. “Before we go, I thought you might want to know something.” He turns to face me. “After flying, we were headed to my room when Arden insisted on stopping by the lounge. She wanted to check on you. When she saw you slumped down on the couch asleep, she used magic to remove your waistcoat and shoes, then covered you with a blanket. She muttered something about you working too hard. She cares about you, a lot. Don’t let all of this” —he waves his hands around— “get in the way. She might want answers, but she needs you.”
Startled, I blink. Daire usually doesn’t offer his opinion on personal matters. A smile breaks free at the thought of her interrupting their date to check on me. “Thank you.”
Dipping his chin, he smirks. “Let’s go. I can’t stand to be here any longer,” he drawls, strolling by me to create a portal.
* * *
Later in the conference room,I walk through the findings of my research. “Of the five young women sent out by the MacAllisters, two were found dead not far from the Kingdom of Dragons. The other three went to the kingdoms of the light Fae, light elves, and dark elves.”
Valerian, on the screen, nods. He’d found the two who died close to his kingdom by having village elders search through their records.
“This morning, Daire and I went to the light Fae to search for Sima MacAllister.” I stop and flash Arden a look to warn her. “We found out she was killed about a year after she left.”
Sadness fills her face. “How did she die?”
I repeat the innkeeper’s story. When I get to the part of Rivan, her eyebrows rise in astonishment.
“Rivan, the one who put this tattoo on me?” she asks, her fingers finding the rune on her neck. “He always seemed sad when I was around him. Maybe that’s why.”
