City of Fae

My heart fluttered just that little bit faster. “What were you like there?”


“Different.” The smile came and went in an instant, replaced by a look of satisfaction, maybe even pride. “Harder. Not like I am here. My bloodline are—were— influential. I was born of warriors. Our blood is potent, rich with draíocht. I fought,” he hesitated, his gaze locking with mine as he clearly weighed how much I would understand against how much he could tell me, “in the war.”

“You were at war?”

“They probably still are. The fae are locked in perpetual war. We’re a predatory race. Always restless. Always hungry.” Lifting his drink to his lips, he lost his thoughts in the swirl of amber liquid.

“What happened?” I asked, almost too quietly beneath the beat from the music, but he heard.

“That day—that battle—we lost.” He didn’t meet my gaze but I still witnessed how the shadows stole the light in his eyes. “I saw it happening, knew we were beaten, and I deserted the line. A great many fae died that day.”

I tried to imagine Reign snarling, armored up, blades drawn, and found the image came easily. I’d seen him fight the general and the FA warriors. He had a predator’s patience, the same chilling stillness. He’d already admitted he was a killer. But when I tried to see him as a deserter, I couldn’t. Everything I knew about him told me he wouldn’t quit. So why had he run? I wanted to ask. The question burned on my tongue, but the regret in his eyes kept it there.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, folding his arms on the table, bringing him close enough for me to see the minuscule lift of his lips.

“That I wish I understood your world.”

“My world is here now.” He tossed a gesture at the bar. “With these people, and for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t go back, even if I could. I’m not the same fae I was.”

“Why are you here?”

“We were exiled. The worst of us, that is.” His lips twisted. “The elders believed they were doing the right thing. Remove the tumor and the cancer goes away, right?” That wasn’t always true, and his look told me he knew it. “They didn’t even understand where they were sending us. As long as it was somewhere else, somewhere they weren’t. They used vast reserves of draíocht to weave a connection between Faerie and here.” He paused. His eyes narrowed. “They rounded us up, and …” His words trailed off. I wasn’t sure if I’d seen the quiver in his lips before he bit down. “It was a long time ago.”

“What about you?” I asked softly. “How did you end up here? A rock star fae can’t be the worst of them, surely?”

His upper lip twitched, but the snarl didn’t break free. “The queen …” He began, and winced. “I lost control, went wild. The queen was the only one who could rein me back. Our elders exiled her when she slaughtered hundreds of her kin. She was lost to fae-fury. I didn’t really have a choice but to follow her. The elders would have driven me out eventually, and where she goes, I go, or I kiss good-bye to my freedom.”

“Fae fury?”

“Those that live too long, time gnaws away at their sanity.”

I wanted to ask more, but by how his gaze had started to dart, I suspected he’d deflect and distract. “What about Warren? Why is he here?”

“The worst were sent here. Make of that what you will.”

I could believe Warren was a nasty piece of work, but he must have some good in him to befriend Reign. “And Shay?”

His gaze flicked up to find what I hoped to be mild curiosity on my face and not raging jealously. Of course, I had no right to judge, or to get between them, but the fact he had her clothes in his apartment bothered me more than I wanted to acknowledge. In truth, she was so beautiful, surreal, I had little hope of ever competing against someone like her, and no time to even consider what it might mean to care.

“Why do you ask?”

“I, uh …” I caught myself looking down and quickly straightened. “She’s beautiful.”

His laugh was a delicate thing, softened by fondness. “The most deadly of us often are. But Shay is … She’s one of the few worthy here. Shay came voluntarily.”

I didn’t miss the sigh, although I wished I had. Did he regret her decision? A part of me wished she hadn’t come, while another part chided myself for being an idiot. Sovereign was over two hundred years old. Who knew how old Shay was. I was days old, and had days left to live. As much as I didn’t want it to, the world would go on turning without me, as it had before I’d arrived. There was little point in wasting energy on jealousy.

“I wish I had more time.” Although I said it quietly, Reign’s keen hearing picked up the words, and no doubt my tone too.

His smile sparked delight in his eyes. “The night’s not over yet.”

Every second, every minute, every hour, I felt the crawl of time as though it leached right out of my veins.