Fey Regency (Fey Lords #3)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

“ A re you fey?”

The man standing next to me asks his question quietly, but somehow every single person in the vicinity hears him. It is as if the words ping around until everyone nearby has been hit by them.

A deep, oppressive silence follows as every single person stops what they were doing to stare at me. A heartbeat ago, this was a noisy, busy and bustling check-out in Tesco’s. Now it has transformed into a sea of staring faces. Even the baby that was crying has fallen silent. The only motion remaining is a tin of beans rolling on the belt because the woman working the till is too busy staring at me slack-jawed to pick it up and scan it.

“No,” I scowl as I pull my hood up. Why the stupid thing fell back, I have no idea. Just my dumb luck.

“Are you sure?” insists the man who first spoke.

What a fucking inane question. As if anyone would forget they were fey or suddenly change their mind about denying it.

“Yes I’m bloody sure! If I was fey, I’d be waltzing around in silks, lording it over you all and taking whatever the hell I wanted. I would not be dressed like a homeless person and buying a discounted sandwich! ”

I glare out at my audience and get a few blinks in return. It is quiet enough to hear the buzz of the fluorescent lights.

“Maybe you are undercover? Doing a security check before the grand opening this afternoon?”

A murmur of agreement ripples through the crowd. Alarm and curiosity are brewing into something much darker. My stomach clenches. I need to get out of here before I get lynched.

I take a deep breath. “I’d be fucking shit at my job then, wouldn’t I?”

A woman gasps and covers the ears of her small child. Whatever, lady. I’m sure he has heard swearing before.

Nobody else seems bothered by my bad language, but they seem very bothered by me. Crap. This isn’t good at all. I have three options. Continue to deny that I’m fey and claim unfortunate genetics or something, perhaps throw in some confession about how much I hate our invaders.

Another option is to claim that, yes, I am in fact fey. Come to test your obedience. Now bow before me before I turn you all into snakes and steal the baby.

My gaze flicks desperately around the crowd. An ocean of stern and suspicious faces. All unforgiving. I don’t see any mercy anywhere.

I try to swallow, but I can’t. My throat has seized up. My knees are shaking. It really doesn’t look like either of those first two plans of action are going to work.

Which just leaves me with the third option.

Running away with my tail between my legs like a kicked dog. But that’s fine. I don’t need pride. It is not essential for survival. Whereas not being beaten to death is. Of all the ways to go, that seems like one of the least pleasant.

So, that’s decided then. Running away it is .

I suck in a quick breath, clutch my sandwich, turn on my heels and flee as quickly as I can without actually running. Awakening any of these bastards’ prey drives would be a disaster. Especially when it is a crowd on the very cusp of turning into a mob.

As soon as I’m out of sight, I do speed up to a run. I twist and turn, and dart down side streets as fast as I can, zigzagging away from danger until I find a peaceful alley. One last glance around shows me that there are no pursuers. I can’t hear any either. I haven’t been followed. No one else is here. I’m alone and that means I am safe.

Sighing heavily, I lower myself to a step by an old bricked up door. I made it. I have survived once more. Lived to tell the tale. Not that I’ve got anyone to tell.

A wry, bitter chuckle escapes me. My heart rate and breathing are returning to normal. The adrenaline is fading, and a despondent misery is sneaking in to take its place.

Wearily, I tilt my head up to look at the sky. At least it is not raining. And I have my cheese and ham sandwich. Things could be much worse.

With shaking hands, I rip open the packaging covering the sandwich. Then I shove the white bread and cheap fillings into my mouth. The first taste awakens my stomach and I’m reminded of just how hungry I am.

Fuck my life. This sucks so very much. I have no idea where I’m sleeping tonight. Not the faintest clue when I’m next going to eat. I stink, and my clothes are filthy. And to top it all, I was just nearly murdered by a mob.

Sitting here, trying to tell myself that it could be worse, is pathetic. This is the worst. My life has never been so dismal and there is no end in sight.

I can’t go back to Granny. She is far safer without me bringing hatred to her door. I can’t get a job because nobody is going to hire someone who looks like they are fey. I’m not going to try to claim benefits again, because that woman in the Job Centre screaming in terror at the sight of me, was enough to give me nightmares for months.

If only I knew how to turn to a life of crime, but I don’t. So that option is a complete non-starter.

Which leaves me hunting for lost coins. I was great at it as a kid, but as society has turned more and more cashless, it is getting harder and harder. No matter how much I may be drawn to coins lying forgotten in gutters and trapped between pavement cracks, there simply is less money in people’s pockets to fall out. I cannot find what has not been lost.

Another heavy sigh escapes me as I glower at the empty sandwich packet. My stomach rumbles in protest. One shitty sandwich was nowhere near enough. I’m so hungry I could cry. But tears never solved a thing.

I drop the empty wrapper on the floor by my feet. Then I lean back against the damp bricks and close my eyes. I’m so damn tired. Of everything.

I’ll rest for a little bit before I go back to trudging around looking for loose change. Who knows, perhaps my luck will change. The fey are having that fancy ceremony later. One of the princes is coming to officially open the new hospital. It should draw a good-sized crowd, and where there is a crowd, there are people selling stuff. Tacky souvenirs, balloons, popcorn and whatever. Hopefully that means people will bring cash, and then lose some .

It is a shitty thing to cling onto. But this is my life now. All thanks to the fucking fey. Those bastards have conquered my world and destroyed my life.

I’d give anything, absolutely anything, to go back to the past. Back to when the Earth belonged to humans and fairies were only make believe.

Back to the cottage with Granny. Back to when I was just funny looking. Back to a time when I humoured Granny when she talked about us being descendants of the fair folk and how the old blood was strong in me.

Life was good then. Life was worth living. Life was simple and easy. Even though I took it for granted.

Now look at me. Hunted, hated, and despised. Barely surviving. All because some distant ancestor of mine had the bad taste to fuck a fey. Well, fuck them and fuck everybody. It is not my damn fucking fault that I look like our evil invading overlords.

“Hi.”

The voice comes out of nowhere. What the hell? I leap to my feet while my heart tries to pound its way out of my ribcage.

I’m not alone anymore. There is a young man standing a few feet away from me. I didn’t hear him approach, and with those impressive thick-soled goth style boots, I should have.

He is wearing dark skinny jeans and a blood red tee shirt. His shoulder length hair is an ebony black that actually looks natural and not dyed.

His eyes are dark too. And very intense.

I swallow dryly. This dude is not fey, I can tell that much. But my skin is still prickling and the hairs on the back of my neck are rising. Something is definitely off about him .

Granny said that there were other things that walked this earth. She was right about the fey, so she is probably right about that as well.

This isn’t a human emo boy standing in front of me in an empty alley.

“What are you?” I croak.

He tilts his head and increases the intensity of his stare. He wasn’t expecting me to realise there was anything strange about him. Shit. I should have kept my mouth shut.

“I’m a wolf shifter,” he says calmly, after a moment.

My eyebrows rise. A werewolf? Those are real? Holy fuck!

“And a necromancer,” he adds. “I’m not sure which you are picking up on.”

I open my mouth. Then I close it again, only to open it once more. The very strange stranger watches my fish impersonation with an amused and slightly smirking expression.

“What do you want!” I finally manage to splutter.

The stranger smiles and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I was wondering if you would like to kill a fey prince?”