City of Fae

I ordered coffee at the counter and kept Reign in my peripheral vision. Sprawled in the booth, arm draped over the back, he’d removed his shades and gazed into the middle distance, seeing but not seeing, likely lost in thoughts of the queen. He couldn’t pull off normal if his life depended on it. Even at rest, he exuded predatory arrogance. All fae had the same deadly allure, but Reign seemed to have it in spades. Was it just part of his faeness or something else? I’d wrongly assumed him to be a spoiled attention junkie, not helped by the fact he seemed to encourage that impression. But he was more than that. There were layers to him I had yet to understand. Like the fae themselves, I’d barely scratched the surface.

His lithe fingers teased a ketchup packet, and I found my mind wandering to what it might feel like to have those fingers on my skin. I already knew his touch simultaneously burned and numbed, but I guessed he could do a lot more with those quick hands of his. Damn bespellment. With an internal growl I shoved the thoughts aside, collected our drinks, and set his coffee down in front of him while settling into the booth.

“I should have warned you—”

I grimaced. “Had you told me we were going to see a half-fae, half-spider queen, I’d have laughed in your face.” A TV chatted to nobody in particular from behind the counter and the air conditioner hummed loudly enough that our conversation wouldn’t be heard. I leaned in, across the table, and spoke softly. “Are you going to explain her to me?”

He lifted his gaze up, then away. “I can try, but something like her … she defies explanation.”

“Try.” I urged, hoping he didn’t erect a wall of vagueness again. He looked like he might try it, and then he caught the less-than-patient expression on my face.

“You’re not going to like it,” he said.

“Really? Because everything you’ve told me has been a bundle of laughs up until now.”

“Sarcasm suits you.”

“Stop stalling and talk.”

He pinched his bottom lip between his teeth and looked down, focusing on the tease of the sachet between his fingers. All at once he looked vulnerable, and lost. When a muscle twitched in his cheek, a delicate flutter of apprehension skittered through me. Whatever he was about to say, it was big.

“The queen is part of the world I come from, part of Faerie.” He plucked a second ketchup packet free from the collection of condiments on the table, avoiding my wide eyes and ignoring the gasp that hissed through my teeth.

“Faerie?” I spluttered. “But it’s not real.”

He flinched.

“It’s real?”

“Yes.”

The apprehension bloomed into full-blown fear. “There’s another world out there? Full of fae, like you, like the queen?” My screeching drew a few concerned glances. I swallowed quickly and spread my hands on the table. Okay. Don’t panic. Let him talk. “Reign,” I whispered, hunched low, “you’re kidding, right?”

Shoulders slumped, head bowed, he gave his head a slight shake. “It’s real, but don’t let that concern you. The fae there, they don’t care for this place, this world. There isn’t enough draíocht here for them to ever be interested. We need draíocht, and this place is barren compared to Faerie.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and pursed my lips. He wasn’t joking. This was real. Like the queen. Oh God. My little story about a wasted rock star fae had morphed into something too big and terrifying for me to deal with on my own.

“Why haven’t the fae told us the truth?” I asked, each word clipped.

“Right,” he rolled his eyes, “because humans are so well known for their tolerance of things they don’t understand? If you knew we were … different—from a different place—you’d take away what little freedom we have.” He chewed on his lip, his expression pained. “Are you okay?”

“Yup. Fine. Lovely.” Did Andrews know? Surely the government knew. Maybe the public had been kept out of the loop to avoid widespread panic.

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Reign said. “Faerie is not the threat here.”

My hand trembled when I reached for my coffee. “Okay, I’m going to file that revelation away for later.” I took a sip of the scalding drink and welcomed the burn on my tongue. The world hadn’t changed just because I knew Faerie was real. And Reign was right, we had more pressing problems. “The queen. You were telling me about her.” I watched him closely, waiting for my answers.

“I’ve been told she wasn’t always corrupted,” he said. “That a spirit, Arachne, sought her out due to her talent for weaving.” He turned his gaze away from me and bit gently into his bottom lip. “I don’t know if that’s true. Nor does it matter. It was a long time ago, long before I was around. She is what she is.”

“And what is that?”

“Poisoned from the inside out, by the spirit, by time.”

“And Under?”

“Under is a settlement beneath your feet, made with forgotten parts of London.” Reign hesitated. He looked at me, as though weighing how much he should say.

“Just say it. I think we’ve moved beyond me taking notes for my big break, don’t you?”

“We were expelled from Faerie. All the fae here were. We initially spread far and wide, preferring the less industrialized areas. But as time went on, we were forced to live among people, our main source of draíocht, to survive.”