Epilogue
I am being hunted in broad daylight by an elven knight. Again.
But this time, I’m not alone.
One thing I’m not doing is running.
I slide the molded pulp tray with two hot coffees I’m carrying under one arm and turn to face Prince Eirian. I figure the glamour he must be using will keep us from showing up on someone’s social media feed.
The elf warrior is in his full plate mail, ice sword in hand. It’s dripping fat snowflakes which drift off into the cold San Francisco morning breeze. His silver hair gets lost against the sky’s bright cloudlike fog.
“You should put that away before someone gets hurt, Your Highness,” I say, making sure I’m smiling.
He returns my smile coolly, and sheaths his weapon. “I am well aware of how unobservant you can be, so I did not want to startle you. I hoped the shine of my weapon might catch your eye.”
“Right.” The corner of my lip quirks. “Approaching me with a blade is much more chill. Not to mention a bit nostalgic.” I let go of the snark when I remember Lord of the Rings here actually saved my life. “Ms. Stryker told me what you did. It seems I owe you my thanks.”
His countenance is frosty. “You do not owe me anything. The checks my foundation provided to the residents of Hunters Point, as well as the others, were merely the fulfillment of obligations I took on myself.”
Those other hefty checks would be to the guy whose car I was forced to steal and to Ms. Stryker herself for the damage done to her home.
Apparently, she approached Eirian in person expecting full restitution and made a very compelling argument as to why it was in his interest to comply.
(She was particularly salty about the fact that one of his minions had spirited away her bone box while she was helping with fae negotiations—an act that was in complete violation of guest rights.
It’s how he was able to intercept my message.
Still, in the end, he did come through.)
“That’s not what I meant,” I say. “She said you told her where I was and what I was up against.”
The rest of his face remains still, but there’s a sparkle behind his eyes. “I’m afraid I do not know what you are talking about, incubus. If I had done such a thing, you would indeed owe me, but I recognize no debt between us. I am here on behalf of my queen to deliver a message.”
It’s cool he’s letting me off the hook for that—for whatever reason—but the relief I experience is short lived. Anything that involves one of the fae queens is a huge deal.
My shoulders tense. “You, uh, mean you have a message for Ms. Stryker?”
“No, this message is for you. The Winter Queen is aware of the service you performed for this world, and you have piqued her curiosity. She invites you to take tea with her on the night of the waning half-moon.”
I might have been sheltered from the paranormal world growing up, but even if Ms. Stryker hadn’t told me herself, I would already know that the Winter Queen is one of the most powerful magical forces in all the realms.
Eyes wide, I turn to Collin.
“That’s seventeen days from now,” Collin offers, equally baffled. “A Thursday. There should be nothing especially dangerous about meeting during a half-moon or any other moon phase.” He purses his lips. “Aside from her being an exceptionally lethal and capricious force of nature, that is.”
Right.
“Please let Her Majesty know I’m very flattered,” I say cautiously. “I’ll, uh, have to check with my boss. I don’t have that day off.”
Eirian’s silver eyebrow arches with crystalline precision.
“You’ve been formally invited to the palace of the Queen of Night at the request of the Sovereign herself.
The ground outside her gates is littered with the bodies of those who starved while desperately waiting for an audience.
But by all means—do make sure you have enough PTO before gracing her with your answer. ”
I snort. I think I’m beginning to appreciate his humor. (God help me.)
“Thanks for understanding. I’ll use the feather to get back to you as soon as I can.” (I left the last one he gave me in my freezer. I figured it could help me with my electric bills, if nothing else.)
“Be sure you do,” he says, but not unkindly. He then stands in glacial silence, like he’s not eager to go.
And I suppose I don’t want him to, either. Not yet.
“Prince Eirian, I have a question for you, one I was kinda too busy to ask before, but if we are supposed to be friends now or whatever, I’d like an answer. And I’d like it not to cost me anything.”
His perfect, pale lip curls, curious. “Go on…”
“Why did you ask me to steal the watch? I understand why you’d want it. It can make anyone more powerful, I guess. But how’d you know I could get it?”
His glance flicks to my side pocket, like he can see the ancient druidic magic emanating from within. “Your Avatar doesn’t have the answer for that?”
“He can’t read minds.”
“Of course.” A ripple of cunning plays across his features before he chooses to reply.
“It’s a fair question. I have indeed wanted the watch for some time.
And, as a member of the Winter Court, I have access to a number of unique sources of information.
Powers that can read minds and see the future—for a price.
I approached you because I was given reason to believe you could retrieve the artifact when no one else could.
And if some of the more breathless accounts of your provenance also proved correct, there was even the possibility of you someday becoming an ally—a distinction I grant to a precious few.
I will admit, both claims struck me as questionable.
” He leans in, his smile wolfish. “But as the humans you so admire might say, ultimately, the juice appeared worth the squeeze.”
His gaze is so intense, I’m tempted to take a step back. But I won’t. Instead, I harden my jaw.
“You didn’t exactly treat me like someone you wanted for an ally.”
“No, I did not. You believed yourself weak and vulnerable, and it was in my interest for you to remain under my thumb. I needed you to fear me, so I could take advantage of whatever power you did have.” He gives a regal half-shrug.
“And I fully expected that if you ever became worthy enough to be my ally, you would understand.” His expression then softens with something like self-discovery.
“But you were so adorably pathetic, I found myself exercising considerable restraint. If I recall correctly, I put up with quite a bit of nonsense and didn’t draw blood even once. Very unlike me.”
Translation: he was an unholy terror because elves are assholes, and I should be grateful he didn’t do worse.
Right. Moving on!
“So… you know what I am, then?”
“Yes. At this point, I believe I do.” He taps his chin with a delicate finger. “But you don’t, do you?”
I turn to Collin, who sucks in his lip. This is one of the few questions about me he can’t get a clear answer for, but it’s not like we’re completely in the dark.
“I think I have a pretty good idea.” I return to the fae warrior, ready to push my luck. “You’re saying you knew my father was a dragon.”
Behind him, a woman in a pastel blue pantsuit, buried in her mobile, barrels down the sidewalk, coming straight for his back. The normal neatly steps around us, completely oblivious that she changed course to avoid the collision.
Eirian gives me a hard, warning glare. “I would say it is dangerous for us to have this conversation, even under the cover of my best glamour—and that learning more will expose you to dangers you can’t begin to imagine.”
He resumes his chilly elegance. “But come to Winter and ask me there. I cannot promise I will not demand a favor to share what I know, but I will not protect you from yourself. It is not our way.” The corner of his lip slashes up into a smirk.
“You will certainly want to keep that in mind when you visit for tea.”
And then, with a wink, he’s gone.
I sigh and recall what ?avadeva said to me through Valiente about what I am.
He is aware that you think you know the answer to that question, but you do not.
Seems Prince Eirian also knows something Collin and I don’t. Something about what makes me such a special snowflake. And if I want to find out, I’ll need to get even more tangled up with him.
It’s not like I don’t have plenty of tangles already. Last night Mom let me know she’s back in town and apparently she’s been busy. Her text said:
BTW, I had a serious talk with your Aunt Tara about the way she treated you. She was quite emotional by the end. Very tearful. Very apologetic. I left confident that she will never make you—or anyone else—feel uncomfortable like that *ever* again. :)
Reading those words sent a chill down my spine—I have the impression no one is going to be hearing from “Aunt Tara” anytime soon—but I should find out what happened.
Mom also offered to cook me brunch, and if she’s making this kind of an effort, I ought to at least try too, right? I still haven’t gotten back to her…
Without really noticing, I’ve started walking again toward the office, churning these things over. I’m absently rubbing my thumb and index finger together, when Collin breaks my reverie. “So… the Winter Queen. You’re definitely moving up in the world, Alvin.”
I suck in a breath. Right. Potential tangle number three!
“You think I should go?”
“I’m not sure you’ll have a choice. You pushed back against a god, and that’s naturally going to bring you to the attention of some proper heavyweights.
” Collin rubs his chin, now also mulling.
“The main thing is for you to keep as much control of these interactions as you can. Ms. Stryker should be able to help you sort that out, at least in this case.”
He has a point. I’m not on my own here. Not anymore. I’ve got Collin. And Ms. Stryker deals with the fae all the time. She’ll know how I should respond.