Hail to the Queen Page 6

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of her royal highness?” Mémé asks amusedly.

  Sebile throws her head back, delivering a deep, throaty chuckle that makes me want to scramble from my chair and run.

  “Still spry enough to play the game. Here I thought I’d find a feeble old woman having her power pried from her clammy, cold hands.”

  “You mean you hoped you’d find me in a state that would allow you to have the upper hand?” Mémé asks.

  “You wound me. I came to pay my respects, and greet the heir apparent.” Her eyes flicker with purple flames. I tamp down my urge to flinch. I can’t afford to show weakness right now. Unseelie―the dark Fae―are as slippery as eels. Born with black hearts, they respect power, cleverness, and the ability to play political games.

  “Meet my granddaughter, Louella, future matriarch of the Esçhete family.”

  “Call me Lou.” I smirk and wink, in that annoying way I’ve seen Marcellus do all too many times.

  Sebile narrows her gaze. “Lou … how common.”

  “You know us mere mortals. We like to keep things simple.”

  “Quaint. I wanted to see for myself the woman who wound Cristobal Cortez around her human finger.”

  It’s an insult. My hackles rise, but my training keeps me from showing it. “It’s a mutual exchange of respect, affection, and power. I assure you no one manipulates my Lord.”

  “Lord? So, you admit to submission? That you are a lesser being?” Her eyes light.

  “I admit to using proper titles. If I were lesser, I could never be a queen meant to rule at his side. We are equals with different strengths and skillsets. Together we can only be stronger.”

  “She’s a clever one, isn’t she? See how well swiftly she plays at politics. Perhaps the Esçhetes will survive this exchange in power after all,” Sebile muses.

  “Do you want to make your true intentions known? I can tell it’s more than a curiosity when you bring Cein and Kul with you and arrive during the daytime,” Mémé says, providing me with names for the heartbreakingly beautiful, deadly beings.

  “Can’t I visit an old friend?” Sebile asks.

  “We’ve been many things, but friends was never one of them.”

  Sebile casts her gaze toward her guards. “Recently I’ve sensed a disturbance in the veils between worlds.”

  “People cross back and forth all the time.” Mémé shrugs.

  “Yes, but this … felt different. Foreign and ancient.”

  Mémé tenses. “Are we in danger?”

  “I’ve yet to determine intention or details. The hall of mirrors is vast, and I am but one. I thought perhaps you could come and tell me your impression?”

  I’m shocked to find her gaze fixed on me. “It’s been a long time since I walked among the Fae,” Mémé says.

  “Not you, wise one. She who’s proved quite adept at walking between all of us. I want to see this balancing act. We all do. It’s the first thing the courts have agreed on in ages.” Sebile smiles happily.

  I frown. “Surely you don’t expect me to travel into the Fae lands by myself?”

  “You’re welcome to bring a trusted entourage of course. We wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” She flashes a smile that shows her rows of shiny, slightly pointy teeth.

  “When do you want us there?” I fish for more information.

  “I need to speak with the other courts. We wanted to know if you’d be willing to make the journey before we made any plans. You’ll be alerted when negotiations have been settled.” She rests her arms in the crook of her guards, and in the blink of an eye, they’re gone. I’ve grown used to the speed in which vampires move, and this terrifies me.

  “Choose your partners wisely, girl. Things are never as they seem in the Fae world. You’ll need your wits about you, and senses you can trust without a shadow of a doubt.”

  “Are you telling me to take vampires?”

  “I said no such thing.” The upward curves of her lips tell me the exact opposite of her statement.

  ***

  I’m like a schoolgirl with a secret burning a hole inside of me. For days I’ve digested what’s been revealed. Now, I need to speak with someone I trust, or I might explode. Sacha is off on vacation mending the rift with her family, Cristobal is too close to Percy, and I’m fit to be tied. I’ve been faking my way through every day pretending everything is fine when it’s not. Between planning, training, and work, it hasn’t been that hard to do.

  “Fel, I need a favor,” I say as we shut down our computers and clean up for the weekend.

  “What’s up?”

  “I need a girls’ night in if you don’t have anything planned.”

  “Oh, you’re actually going to your house for once?” Fel teases.

  “Stop it. I stay there plenty.”

  “Uh huh?”

  “With Sacha off with her parents for the past week, it’s been too quiet.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to justify anything to me. If I had tall, dark, and fanged waiting for me, I’d be home with him, too.”

  I giggle as we hit the lights and step out into the muggy evening.

  “Are you telling me one of the court’s caught your eye?” I ask.

  “Oh no, that’s all you. I have my hands full with Esçhete business.”

  “You’d be amazed what you’ll do for love,” I say honestly. A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined myself in this position. We’re both compromising. We bend without breaking to meet in the middle.

  “Wow. You’re openly admitting it. Cristobal does good work.”

  “Denying it wouldn’t make it any less true. Besides, new year, new leaf, and I hope a better me.”

  “The best you. I’ll meet you at your place?” she asks as she walks to her car.

  “I’ll see you in a few.”

  I blast Panic at the Disco and sing along. The music transports me to a place nothing can touch. I tap the beat out on the steering wheel and get lost in nostalgia and the high only music that touches your soul can bring. Upbeat as I pull behind her car in my driveway, I grab my purse and step out with a spring in my step.

  “You already look more relaxed.”

  “Knowing I’m going to get a chance to talk things out has definitely lifted a weight off my shoulders. Not to take away from spending time with my favorite cousin.”

  “Yeah, yeah, no need to butter me up.” Fel rolls her eyes. “What’s this about?”

  I lead her up the porch to my front door. “I’m still trying to figure that part out.”

  “Does this have to do with whatever I walked into you and Mémé discussing the other day?”

  “Yes. The information she gave me blew my mind. I’ve been sitting on it, and I can’t keep it in anymore.”

  “Okay, now you’re kind of freaking me out,” Fel mumbles as we step inside.

  I hang my keys on the hook by the door and lock it behind us. “We talked about the Reaping.”

  “Oh, Jesus. How did you manage to get her do that?” Fel asks.

  “Before I launch into that tale, I need snacks and Hurricanes.”

  “The slumber party essentials,” she agrees.

  There’s a special bond you develop when a friendship spans the time ours has. She provides an indescribable sense of comfort that eases me on my worst days. She’s a lifeline to sanity and stability in a world of constantly shifting circumstances and roles.

  “Do you want to borrow some pajamas?” I ask.

  “Of course.”

  I toe off my shoes, and we move to my bedroom where we strip down and pull on oversized sweatpants and worn T-shirts. With the A.C. cranked up, the heat of the day remains outside where it belongs. Dressed down, we relocate to the kitchen. The rust orange pumpkins that stand out on the black curtain and wall bor
der make me smile. This is my happy space. I poured a lot of myself into this home.

  “On a scale of buzzed to blitz what kind of Hurricanes are we making?” Fel asks as I gathered up the rum, passion fruit syrup, and lemon juice.

  “Somewhere in the middle. I need to be able to tell my story, but I don’t want to be feeling any pain.”

  I measure out the syrup and lemon juice and admire the healthy amount of rum going into the glass pitcher. It’s going to be an interesting evening. We break out the traditional Hurricane glasses and fill them to the brim. The sweet concoction burns its way down my throat and settles in my belly.

  I lift the glass. “Much better.” Every queen needs a confidant. Who better than my own cousin, best friend, and a future council member to be mine? She’s going through similar changes with her own training, and preparation for a change in station. She can understand my position in a way few in my life can. “How’s your training going? I feel like one of us is always running off and fulfilling impossibly long to-do lists.”

  “That’s because we are. It’s no secret we’ve been shellacking on the concealer to prevent ourselves from looking like the living dead. Things are coming up fast. I can only hope I’ll be ready. It’s a lot to take in, and I know,” Fel holds up a hand, “I’m preaching to the choir. How are things coming on your end?”

  “A mixture of frustrating, overwhelming, and exhausting?” I shrug. “What are your adjectives of choice?”

  “Slow, boring, and all-consuming. I’m spending more time with the elders than I ever wanted to.” Fel rolls her eyes.

  “What do you talk about?” I ask, genuinely curious.

  “Rules. Ethics. Who’s who? Family histories, and how it affects their politics and relations to others on the council. Yadda yadda yadda. It’s a mixture of tradition, gossip, and people management.”

  I grimace. “I can relate. I don’t envy you the one-on-one.”

  “Yes, because you at least have pretty scenery to observe,” Fel whines.

  “Trust me. It doesn’t matter what they look like when they’re running my human ass into the ground. There’s no such thing as taking it easy on me.”

  Her brow furrows. “What do they have you doing?”

  “Defensive training, sword training, because apparently, they cleave to the old ways even more than we imagined. With them, politics is a slippery slope as well. It depends on their age, rank in society, and in some cases their location. It’s a confusing maze of what to do and what not to do.” I shake my head.

  “Holy crap, cuz. I think I’ll stick with the witches. And damn, no wonder your body is looking bangin’ these days.”

  I giggle. “Small perk. What complicated creatures we both are.”

  “What’s it like spending so much time with them?”

  I pause as I think about how to answer her. “Desensitizing? It’s starting to become my normal. Things that unsettled me about them before are now simply a part of who they are. How do Muffuletta dip, Creole sausage balls, and spicy pretzels sound?” I push away from the counter. If we don’t get some food in our bellies, we’ll be leaving buzzed in the rearview mirror on the way to wasted.

  “Perfect. Let’s get the dip going first.”

  We continue to play catch up while we gather the ingredients, place the olives, and the pickled cauliflower, carrots, celery, and hot peppers we’ve picked form the drained Giardiniera into a food processor. We add the combination into a glass mixing bowl with cream cheese and chopped salami, then mix well.

  “This smells heavenly.” I moan as Fel sprays the cooking dish.

  “Wait till we add the mozzarella cheese and bake it.”

  “I’ve been craving spicy junk food for days. I love the court, but their taste is over the top. I often wonder if their taste buds are duller post life.”

  “It’s possible. You could probably write a book about them with all you’re learning.”

  “Yeah, they wouldn’t take kindly to that. They’re so bloody secretive.” I roll my eyes.

  “I can’t blame them, really. Our kind has been hunted and killed for being different for a long time. They remember it with a crystal-clear clarity we can’t begin to come close to.”

  “It’s true.” We pop the dish into the oven at 350 degrees Fahrenheit and move onto the Creole sausage balls. Thirty minutes later, we’re gathered around the table in the living room with Pretty in Pink playing in the background, our Hurricanes resting on coasters, and a mini feast spread out before us.

  Stuffed, we lean back against the couch.

  “Okay. Now I can attempt this,” I say. spilling my guts.

  “Wait. You’re seeing ghosts now?”

  “I saw a ghost. There’s a huge difference. Like you told one prophecy. Which I kept to myself by the way.”

  “Uh huh. Keep going,” she says skeptically.

  I tell her what Alida showed me.

  “Wow. So Mémé and Percival?”

  “Yes. Whatever those two know must be shared. I almost got it out of Mémé. I don’t see an issue getting her to tell me the rest, but there are always two sides to every story, and I know from experience, vampires view things completely differently.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asks.

  “Well, that’s where you come in.”

  “What?” She places a hand over her heart. “Me? What can I do? I mean, he’s in your court.”

  “Exactly. I’m way too close to the situation and him.”

  “And I’m too far away,” she says quickly.

  “No, you’re perfect. I’ve seen the connection between you. He’s drawn to you.”

  “I’m not an escort.”

  I tsk. “I want you to befriend him, not seduce him, Felicitie.”

  She frowns. “I don’t like it.

  “I know, and I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t important.”

  Fel glances away, and I understand; the pull is mutual.

  “The family needs this.”

  Fel sighs. “I get it. I know where my loyalties lay. I won’t lie to him.”

  “I don’t think you’ll need to.” My throat closes up around the order to abort the mission I know I can’t give.

  “How am I supposed to justify my sudden desire to spend time with him?”

  “I’ll take care of that. As a future council member, you need a mentor who specializes in vampire politics. If you ever get stuck ask him about our histories. I’ll let him know I chose him to be your advisor. He’ll enjoy it.”

  “Clever,” she admits reluctantly.

  “I’m trying. I don’t want anyone hurt, Fel. I’m not looking to manipulate. I just want the truth.”

  “I understand. You’ve got the greater good to look out for. What did the Fae want?”

  “Hell, I’m not sure. To test me? She invited me to visit her lands and look at something for her. Whether it’s real or imagined, I’m unsure.”

  “You’re not going, are you?” Fel asks, alarmed.

  “I have no choice. To say no would’ve shown fear. I can choose a group of people to travel with.”

  “And Cristobal is on board with this?” She purses her lips.

  “Well, he doesn’t know yet.”

  “Ha. I knew it.” She points at me.

  “Even I require a few days of downtime every now and then. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

  “Good luck with that one.”

  I sigh. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever attempted, and I’m constantly unsure if I’m making the right decisions. I haven’t officially taken over anything, and I already feel like I’m over my head.”

  “I’d be more concerned if you didn’t feel that way. There’s a reason the phrase, Heavy lies the head that wears the crown was coined.”

  For the millionth time, I
wonder if I’ll be ready to accept the titles being bestowed.

  Chapter Five

  I gather my hair into a messy bun at the nape of my neck and prepare myself for a different kind of battle. I’ve learned the best way to deliver bad news to Cristobal is by softening the blow and throwing in a pleasant distraction. He sees it coming from a mile away, but his response is always muted from what it might be otherwise.

  The emerald silk nightgown grazes the floor. The thigh high slit keeps it sexy, yet tasteful. The room is lit with candles, and the bubble bath in the oversized claw-footed bathtub is still steamy. My man is secure enough in his masculinity to appreciate the feminine things in life. I never knew about romance until he taught me and later converted me. There’s beauty in pampering your mate.

  I lean against the bedpost when I hear him approach. The door swings open and he gives me a rakish grin. His dark brown eyes turn amber, glowing in the dim lighting.

  “Step inside and see what I have planned.” He closes the doors behind him and meets me in the center of the room.

  “I don’t even care what bombshell you plan to drop later, I’m enjoying this,” Cristobal says.

  I giggle and crook a finger. “I want you to remember you said that later.” I slip my hands beneath his soft navy blue jacket and hug him tight, inhaling the rugged and refined smell of woods, old leather, and sandalwood. He intoxicates me. Burying my nose in his neck, I allow myself time to simply be as he runs his large hand down my back.

  “It’s been too long since we’ve had time alone like this.” He kisses my temple, and we sway to the non-existent music.

  I pull back before he can weave his spell. “Tonight is about you.”

  He lifts my chin and presses his lips to mine, which part like a flower opening to the sun as I sigh. His tongue slips inside. I moan as he grazes the roof of my mouth. Heat spreads through my body. He tilts his head, molding us together as he deepens the kiss. Desire swirls up, threatening to wipe my mind of everything but him. I tremble as I fight the urge to get lost in the moment and yield control.

  I nip his bottom lip and push his jacket off his shoulders.

  “You’re too tempting for your own good,” I say shakily.