Chapter 11 In Which I Learn Applicable Construction Techniques #2
When he looked back at me, the expression in his eyes had changed.
“Nothing,” he said, opening his palm and proffering it to me.
“What did you do?”
He frowned, considering. “I want to be honest with you, Lady of the True Dreams,” he said. “To give you a favor freely, in deference to the freedoms I have taken from you.”
“A favor would be a great start,” I said, taking the ring from him and sliding it back onto my hand.
“It’s an old ring, of value beyond your ken. The enchantment upon it could not have been wrought without true moonlight. It is likely older than our realm, and very precious. If it has adorned the fingers of your mother and grandmother, then you are not the first friend of the Fae in your family.”
There was something so odd about the way he said friend. I opened my mouth, but he steamrolled over me.
“When will we release the presentation to the buyers, lady?” the Princeling asked. I looked at him, easy and tall in his saddle.
We should have released it two weeks before, and the Princeling knew it. I spun the ring around with my thumb as I spoke.
“Jeff and Levi think next week,” I said. “We’re just waiting on a few more potential investors to sign nondisclosure agreements.”
“Do you think this is the best strategy?”
This was the most transparent attempt to distract me since I was six and my mom baked me cookies before I got my tonsils out.
“Oh, well, Jeff and Levi have done this a lot more than me,” I said.
“That is not what I asked, as you well know.” The Princeling didn’t sound annoyed, though. More amused. I looked at him. He had such a clear face—no blemishes or wrinklage of any kind. Our knees brushed, and I glanced down.
“You dissemble quite well.” I heard the smirk in his voice.
“No, I don’t,” I blurted.
He shifted in his saddle to face me. The horse didn’t seem to notice or care. “Do you know what dissemble means, lady?”
“Yes,” I muttered. “I don’t need a vocabulary lesson. My lord,” I added.
He laughed, a surprised sound that echoed against the hills that seemed to follow us, rolling along to our right. “I have always found your tongue sharp,” he said. “I have been keen to feel its bite.”
I blushed. I knew his eyes caught it, could feel them on my cheeks. I wondered what he saw, with his keen eyes. My pores, my blackheads?
Did faeries have better eyesight than humans? I’d just assumed…
“Why do you really want to open this factory?” I asked. “Seems like it isn’t popular among your people. And even if you manage it, I’m not sure how it’s going to help in your… culture war with the Queen.”
He laughed again. “Very true, lady.” He looked forward at the Blue and Red Knights and the Crone. Then back, where the Gray Knight had given us a respectful bit of room.
“My people are divided,” he said. “Some long for the human world, where our ancestors roamed, and for the sun, which many have never seen.”
I felt a brief unwelcome wash of understanding for this man, who was only doing what he thought would help his people.
He glanced down at my ring again. “And for the magics that we have almost lost,” he added, though he sounded reluctant.
“I thought Faerie was your home?”
“Faerie is where we live.” He ran a finger along his lip, thoughtful. “In some ways, we are trapped here, like you.”
Probably not like me.
“Why? You can leave Faerie whenever you want, right?” I asked. I leaned forward to pat Sparkles on the neck, because she was doing a good job and because I wanted to touch something warm and solid.
He sighed. “Faeries have weaknesses, which make us more susceptible to human cruelty than the other supernatural creatures you know of.”
I frowned. “Faeries have been cruel to humans,” I started.
“Yes, yes.” He cut me off, waving his hand in a vague gesture.
“We cannot tally each individual hurt, or go back seventeen centuries to see who struck the first blow. Suffice it to say, we have made ourselves a prison that is a home, but some of my people want to dance under the sun and moon. And so, as their Princeling, I must help them do it safely.”
He looked into my eyes, as if trying to gauge my understanding. I stared back, lost in the dappled greens of his.
“So, to do it safely, you need to start a company?” I asked. He’d lost me.
He laughed again, though I wasn’t sure what was funny. “To do it safely, I need to integrate us in a cautious, specific way. In a way that protects my people and our secrets. In a way that makes us more valuable to humans alive than dead.”
We looked at each other.
“No, Lady of the True Dreams,” he said. “I am not afraid that you will betray me.”
“Can you read my mind?” I asked.
Another laugh. Was he always this easily amused? “No, but I can read your face.”
“You’re spying on me a lot, for a guy who thinks I won’t betray him,” I retorted, indignant, and straightened my shoulders.
“Why did you take this job?” he asked, still staring at me. I felt very grateful that Sparkles had a good sense of direction.
Money was the correct answer, the answer Jeff expected me to give.
“To make a difference,” I blurted.
The Princeling raised an eyebrow.
“Um, whenever there’s someone different, people can be afraid,” I said.
“I used to work in the human government, trying to make sure there weren’t any discriminatory regulations passed against supernatural people.
But regulation is cautious, and slow. And I thought that maybe the fastest way to get past the prejudice would be to integrate you into our economy. So that’s why.”
“And that is why I do not think you will betray us,” he said, inclining his head.
I stared down at the stony path beneath us.
“I do feel sorrow,” he said, so softly I almost didn’t hear him over the clack of hooves on the ground. “I cannot regret your… relocation. But I apologize for the inconvenience.”
Bone shards and blood mist.
“Why did you do it?” I asked, still not looking at him.
“Whenever there is someone different, people can be afraid,” he said. “That is not true only for humans. Familiarity reduces fear.”
I stared over his shoulder, flushing and confused. But I couldn’t keep my eyes on the wending river for long.
“What’s wrong with Milo? He’s a human.”
He said nothing.
“Are there other humans here?” I chided. “Why couldn’t you use him or one of your other human pets to get faeries more comfortable with my kind?”
The Princeling tilted his head consideringly. “We take in madmen and wanderers, for madness is a specialty of the Fae.”
“So you wanted a sane specimen?” I snapped. “You chose wrong there, buddy.”
“For some, Faerie is a refuge.” He frowned. “I understand that it may not feel that way for you.”
I turned away fully, so he wouldn’t see the frustrated tears in my eyes. He seemed to take the hint; he urged his horse forward, leaving me to Sparkles’s sedate clomp.
Another half hour passed in silence, the rolling green hills and sparkling water bookending the perfect tableau of the idyllic road stretching on into the distance.
In front of me, the Princeling, the Red Knight, the Blue Knight, and the Crone stopped like four pigeons in a synchronous flying competition hitting the same glass wall.
“We have arrived,” the Princeling called back, though the landscape wasn’t discernibly different in any way. As Sparkles stopped, he slid off his own horse. I looked around for the Gray Knight. She was still behind us.
The Princeling came to stand next to Sparkles and held his arms out. I slid my leg over the horse and he caught me as I dropped down. He put me on the grass next to him.
The Red Knight strode up beside us. “Have you been to many factory construction sites?” he asked, startling me. I didn’t think we’d spoken before.
“This will be my first,” I said, and then wondered if I should have lied.
He examined me for a moment, a hard set to his rugged jaw. “It would not matter if you had,” he said finally. “No human building can rival the construction of the Fae.”
“I’m sure,” I replied, meaning it.
“Though I would rather not give the humans an opportunity to compare,” he added lowly, the tendons in his throat in bas-relief. I blinked at him, startled. I knew the Blue and Red Knights had opinions; they’d just never yet deigned to share them with me.
The Gray Knight joined us. “I shall alert the Builder to our presence.” She stalked off toward the side of the nearest hill.
I checked my cell phone. There was no service.
The Gray Knight knocked on a piece of empty air. A hollow reverberation sounded.
“What?” someone snapped, and then the air opened, revealing an irritable-looking man with curling ram’s horns and a patchy red flush across his cheeks, holding a small hammer in one hand. I could see his other hand, curling around the edge of the sky.
Behind him was… more air. It looked the same as the other air. I blinked, which changed nothing about the landscape.
“The Princeling has come to assess your progress,” the Gray Knight said. “Will you allow us to pass?”
The faerie grunted acquiescence and stood back, pulling the air doorway open enough for us to pass through. The Gray Knight led the way, and the five of us followed her.
We just left the horses outside, which was bold. But no one seemed to be around this area anyway.
On the other side of the doorway was something that looked much more like a construction site, though a very odd one.
Nearest to us stood a small cottage with a thatched roof, like one you might see in a fairy-tale storybook, with a stone chimney and flowers in the window boxes.
Outside the cottage, an old woman sat at a loom, weaving fine gray thread into long panels.
Cobweb curtains, I realized with a start.
Beside her sat a workbench, recently vacated, and several acorns.
Behind the cottage sprawled the imprint of a giant building, carved from the dirt. There were no trucks or diggers, and no other people.
“How—” I started.