Page 21 of Vicious Fates and Vast Futures
“I DISLIKE LEAVING ADIwith just Nairna.” I cross my arms over my chest.
Bryn raises a single eyebrow. “Don’t trust her?”
“I do,” I argue. “I just...feel better if one of us is with her. We know the court better.”
Bryn purses his lips as he gives me a look. “Sounds like bullshit, metamour.” He turns to the mirror. “Come on, I need you with me.”
We step through the mirror into the bedroom of the guest house in Orla and Sean’s backyard. Rory sits at a desk situated near the bed, while Weyland stands at the window, his large, curled horns rimmed in light. Rory hops us and hugs us both. Weyland turns and strides over to clasp hands and slap our backs, a smile on his warm face.
I notice Rory is wearing a sword belt for a short sword. I look to Weyland, who sees my raised eyebrows. He nods. “I’ve been training him with a blade.”
Rory smirks. “Oh, he sure as hell has been.”
Weyland admonishes him, but I catch the amusement in his voice when he says, “I meant with an actual sword.”
“Are you any good?” I tease Rory. He’s a good Fae. My little mate adores him, and I trust him—though not in a battle, as his skills are elsewhere.
“Why don’t you stay late and I’ll show you mysword-handlingskills? Maybe give you a one-on-one lesson.”
Bryn chuckles. “Ossy has that under control, Rory.” Bryn grins evilly as I look away, trying not to blush. “Ready?” he asks.
“Yes, boss,” Rory says sassily and I catch Weyland roll his eyes with a fond look on his face.
I’m so glad they seem to be getting on well. The next thing we need to do is officially free Rory from servitude so he can make his own choices for his future. My face turns grim. Wewilldo that.
The four of us file out of Orla’s shaded and lush garden, avoiding Isla’s toys that are left pell-mell about, and out onto the street.
The Fae in Glario have a nervous air about them. Fewer children running around. Fewer Fae sitting in the green spaces, hurrying instead to get their errands finished. I’m not surprised given the uprisings. Fae in this country have known control from the US government, but we’ve also known peace. A lack of violence from humans plus a strongly enforced moratorium on infighting and clan skirmishes and centuries-old feuds have created an air of ease even with our restrictions from the US.
As we cross the happily burbling Murimont River via a wide stone bridge, I slow to watch the selkies, their small seal bodies flashing and diving. Adi’s kind. She doesn’t spend near enough time in her pelt. It makes my heart ache. She loves the water, loves her fur. Perhaps when this is over, we should move to Glario. If there’s a Glario left.
Once on the other side of the river, we quickly walk the cobblestone streets until we hit the industrial district. Large buildings surround us, some with signs announcing the names of the dance clubs they house, but most without markings. It doesn’t look like any have been turned into high-end housing yet, so that’s good, I suppose.
Bryn leads us to a nondescript warehouse, its bricks old and crumbling, and yanks open the maroon-painted door.
It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light and, when they do, the first thing I see is Filib in his kelpie form. He tosses his head, and for a moment I wonder if he can whinny. He looks like a large shaggy brown horse with sharp teeth. In the old country, kelpies lured unsuspecting humans onto their backs, then jumped into the water to drown and eat them. Perhaps that’s why I’m rather suspicious of Filib.
“Greetings, friends,” he says in his oddly normal voice, pulling his horsey lips back in an attempt at a smile. His eyes linger on Rory and Weyland. They have been working without the EA’s knowledge, but Bryn has decided to introduce them, though I’m not clear on why. Power flex, perhaps. That’s Bryn’s style.
Bryn, unsurprisingly, looks as if he wants to strangle Filib but nods silently in acknowledgement. He strides towards the tall female on Filib’s right. Elen, I recall, the gwyllion who was voted in when Adi killed that bastard Leon. I don’t think Bryn has met her in person yet.
The gwyllion are mountain Fae, with sensitive noses and who often get murdery around twilight. Elen is tall, almost as tall as me, but not willowy, like the court females. No, Elen is rounded, curvy, a female you wouldn’t be afraid to break. She’s just gorgeous with odd, colorless hair loose around her face, eyes that appear white, and plump lips. My mind wanders to places that it hasn’t been since before I met Adi.
Shocked, I shake my head, trying to break the spell she must be projecting. I dislike her on principle given the minor spelling she just did; Adelaide and Nairna are my females. The Goddess, and female beauty, take no other form for me. Anger swirls inside me but I try to shield it so as to not wind anyone else up.Adi has been helping me with my shielding, and I’m getting the hang of it.
Elen proffers a hand for Bryn to kiss, which he does quickly, dropping it immediately. “Elen, good to meet you in the flesh.”
She nods kindly, her large, oddly flat teeth revealed. “And you, Captain.” She turns to us with a soft smile. “And who have you brought?” She studies us even as my attention wanders behind her.
The Lower Council, twelve of them, sit at attention in a few lines of folding chairs in the otherwise empty warehouse, waiting for us to acknowledge them. They represent a wide variety of Fae including a brownie and a few leprechauns. I catch sight of a coblyn and a small red-haired abcán fingering a musical instrument silently, nervously, who I haven’t previously seen on the council.
Bare bulbs hang from wires at intervals not quite frequent enough to light the room. My eyes land on a pile of chain in a corner, around which are dark stains across the wall and floors. My gaze flicks to Rory and Weyland, who stand silently.
“Osmund, my mate,” Bryn answers, “and our friends, Rory and Weyland, who have been keeping tabs on the rebels here.” Bryn’s eyes take in the council, most of them Fae he’s known for years. He studies them silently. But I see him tense, and that makes me instinctively grab my sword hilt. Weyland sees my reaction and silently does the same with his hammer, shifting his stance slowly to angle in front of Rory.
“I have come with a message,” Bryn begins. “We will stand with Priestess Adelaide, not with the Upper Council of the EA. The Priestess is familiar with our FEC, with our politics. We will cleave ourselves from the national EA if necessary, and I want only those who support our means on the Lower Council here. Any who will not stand with us, rise now so that we may speak.”
Six of the twelve members stand hesitantly. A mix of Fae species, the brownie and a few annwn hounds among them.
