CHAPTER 73

Beth. She was supposed to be his secret weapon, the smart one capable of talking him out of trouble. Now she was caught up in a spell of obedience or a charm. She was practically hanging off the neck of a handsome fae with translucent wings and a toothy grin. He and his cohorts were luring her to a nearby table of food where one of their servants had already poured a glass of wine for her.

His eyes met Cecilia's, and he saw raw panic reflected in them. He had overstepped, and Beth was about to pay the price. Without warning, his magic came to life, surging up inside him. He needed to do something to break the spell, and he knew just the thing.

He took a deep breath.

"Seems like she's about to make the choice for you, Caretaker." The queen smirked. "Maybe now you'll—"

Mike unleashed a shriek of rage that caused most of the court to cower in alarm. It was the high pitched wail of a banshee at first, but then became warped and distorted. The glass in the queen's hand shattered, spraying her with wine, and Beth fell to the ground clutching her ears.

When the shriek ended, Beth pulled the earplugs from her pocket and shoved them in her ears, then huddled on the ground with her hands over her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mike, I can't look at her!" she cried. "I'm so sorry, please forgive me!"

While Beth huddled on the ground, the faerie queen's wings extended behind her and she hovered about a foot off the ground. Golden light enveloped her, and her eyes flickered with magical sparks.

"How dare you!" she yelled, pointing her wine-stained hand at him. "You dare to shout in my court!"

The room had gone silent, save for the sound of a few faeries drawing weapons or placing bets. The tension in the room was so thick that the mists around the edges moved away from the center, as if giving the gods themselves a better view of what was about to transpire.

Mike rubbed his throat. He had yelled so hard that it was raw, and when he spoke, there was a scratch in his voice.

"How dare you." He pointed a finger back at the queen, fire blooming in his cheeks and his whole body tensing up. "You accuse me of impropriety when you just stand there being a capital cunt about all this."

The collective gasp from the room sounded like the tearing of fabric, but he ignored it. The queen's face froze in shock.

"How dare you speak to the queen in such a manner." This was from a lordly looking fae on the edge of the court, a man in silver garments with a crown of roses around his head. He held a wooden staff with roses embossed along its length and his silvered hair was nearly waist length.

"Stuff it, Legolas." He felt the fire in his cheeks spread across his body, and the gears of his mind cranked rapidly. Maybe it had been a huge mistake to come here, but if he was about to go down in flames, he was going to give everyone a piece of his mind. Time seemed to slow, allowing him the opportunity to choose his words. "The grown-ups are talking now. Why don't you go play with your flowers?"

A mixture of laughs and boos filled the air, and Mike held up his hand for silence. The faerie lord had vanished behind some of his cohorts, and Mike's gaze swept the room, then landed on the indignant queen.

"I came here to have a civilized conversation with you, Your Majesty. You forced me to trudge through your land for a couple of days, encouraged your subjects to kill me, and then mock me to my face when I finally arrive. So what exactly do you expect from me?"

He ripped off his tie and threw it on the ground, where it landed with a splat. "Do you want to humiliate me in front of all your subjects and look like the big tough bitch that everyone talks about? And you must be so proud of yourself picking on a mortal! Bravo!" He started a slow clap, and fought a grin when a couple of unseen fae joined in. "If you were so scared of me, you should never have sent your spy to come see me. I would never have thought to come here in the first place, so bravo again." He clapped his hands a couple more times then stopped when an errant thought occurred to him.

Sulyvahn had said he had been forced to come because of an agreement the queen had. The queen ensured that every Caretaker was spirited away to the afterlife, but if she disapproved of one, why not just have them killed?

"I suggest you—" she began, but he butted in.

"You know what? When we came here, we took so much care to be respectful. My friend had books on etiquette and faerie law, and we deliberately left any weapons at home. Do you know how easy iron is to get in the human world? And not just any iron, but official cold iron. I could have that shit delivered to my door in hours, get it blessed by a holy man, whatever. I could have come here with a small army. Did your spy tell you that? No, I chose to assume that you weren't a huge bitch, despite being told otherwise by more than one person. So who is disrespecting who? I came with every intention of kindness and civility, but you turned your land against me, and for what? Because the banshee is my friend?

"Check this out! I brought nothing but simple protection charms and some gifts." He pulled out a bag full of polished stones. "I heard your kind like shiny things, so I brought these to trade for directions. Guess I don't need them." He dumped the bag in his hands and threw the stones in a wide arc toward the lords and ladies. Some of the pebbles landed in the watery ring, but the others bounced along the ground, and he noticed that several of the fae servants now stared with intense interest at the rocks. "I came as a friend of the fae, and you treated me as your enemy. So I'm no longer begging forgiveness, Your Majesty. It doesn't matter if you don't like me, I'm loved by many others. So unless you are planning to smite me or something, you need to tell me right now what I can do to take Cecilia home with me. She is a part of my home, and is very missed, and I would go through Hell itself to get her back."