Page 69 of What Fools These Immortals Be
“It’s nothing,” I say, and she smiles. She doesn’t believe me.
“Of course, crai.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Maurice
I’mjustoutsideofCheshire tonight, and the fae I’ve found are—shockingly—not best pleased to have me here.
I’m not at all pleased to be here myself. They’ve been a little careless with their magic, but the ones who can glamour themselves seem to, and the most the nearby residents seem to think is that they’re a little strange. Nothing wrong with that. I’m pretty sure most humans who unknowingly meet vampires and wolves think the same thing.
To be fair to Vlad, he told me last night I don’t have to kill them or send them back. Just check in, make sure they understand they’re supposed to keep in line. The consequences if they don’t.
It doesn’t stop the leader of the bunch glaring at me, hands on her hips. She’s a glaistig, I think, though I can’t check for hooves under her long dress.
“We’ve not broken any rules,” she says again. “There’s no need for the Hunt to come here.”
“You know things are all over the place right now. You know why I’m here.”
“Iknowyour Huntsman is panicking.” She glances back at one of the others. None of them have even close to a high fae’s power, so I’m not all that worried about an attack, though if they all come at me at once, I might have to get out of here fairly quickly. “No one’s bothered us in a century.”
“Why are they all coming here?” I ask, ignoring her jab at the Huntsman. She’s not wrong, though I don’t think his panic is unjustified. “You have to have some idea.”
She stares at me, and I do my best to hold her gaze. Unglamoured, her pupils are square, which is more than a little unsettling. “If the queen dies,” she says, “then so do the treaties in place here. The veil, the Hunt… They’ll all be gone.”
Icy dread creeps into my stomach. That can’t be true, can it? There’s no official treaty between humans and the fae—how could there be—but that is what the Huntsman has done; it is what the Hunt isfor.
“It’s no wonder many of the fae are worrying about what will come next. The Seelie, especially. They could try to seize power, but we all know that would only end in blood. It’s easier to come here.” She twirls a lock of blond hair around her finger, tugging on the strands.
It makes sense, as much as I don’t like it. The Huntsman has not informed anyone about the treaty, I am certain. Honestly, I do not know how he formed the Hunt in the first place. The Guardians have been preventing high fae from pushing their way through the veil for generations—he must have proven something to them to have been allowed to stay.
Perhaps he is just that powerful? Somehow, that is not a comforting thought.
“What does it matter?” another fae asks. He’s shorter than the woman, wearing a sullen expression when I look at him. His glamour is good; he’s dressed like a teenager, and he looks like one, but I can see the magic that shimmers around him.
“What do you mean, what does it matter?”
The glaistig frowns and moves ever-so-slightly aside. She does not seem surprised by this interruption. My knife is at my waist, and I do not reach for it.
“We used to terrorise humans,” the male fae says, waving his hands around. “Weruled here. And now, what? We answer to vampires and wolves? You’re nothing. You’re hardly a step above them.”
“And?” I ask, meeting his venomous look with my own bored expression. “What do you plan to do about it?”
He hisses through sharp teeth—there are holes in his glamour, at least—and the fae to either side of him look just as angry. Ah. Perhaps this is why Vlad sent me here. There is, at least, discontent among this group of fae, and that might just lead to something worse.
“Why can’t we have this world?” He looks me up and down. “The mages are dead. The magic left is weak, and those who have it do not know how to wield it. This world is more stable. It should beours.”
“You know that can’t happen.” The hairs at the back of my neck are standing on end, magic tingling over my skin. I won’t just have this fae and his friends to deal with. I risk having to fight all of them, but considering what he’s saying, that might be the best course of action. “The Guardians will still hold the wards. They will still keep the high fae out.”
“They haven’t,” the glaistig says, and I glance over at her. “We can feel them—their magic. There are more high fae here than just your Huntsman.”
“We’re dealing with that,” I reply through clenched teeth.
“It doesn’t matter,” the male fae says. “Either they let them in or they don’t; it doesn’t matter to us. It’s difficult to adapt to this world at first, and if the high fae come here, they’ll be disoriented. Distracted. We can deal with them as we wish.”
“You’re not taking over this world!”
The fae jumps at my outburst.
