29
Jay
“Good evening, love.”
I greeted Alarie as she strolled into my study, high heels in hand and smelling faintly of booze.
Even before we’d left for Breakpoint, she’d been spending more time out of the manor and longer nights hanging out with “the boys” as she liked to call them—Luke and Rhett.
Noticing my look at her disassembled appearance, she threw her heels to the side of the door, and said offhandedly, “My feet were killing, but I didn’t feel like having Luke carry me again. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about the news from the north.”
“Did you at least let Luke walk you home?” I asked, tight-lipped, deciding not to comment, for the moment at least, on this Luke not carrying her “again” situation. When and to where, exactly, was she being towed around by my House counselor?
“Jay, I’m capable of walking by myself,” Alarie protested.
“Alarie, what have I told you?” I asked, failing to keep all the frustration out of my words. I checked the overwhelming need to protect Alarie that rose in me, threatening to consume all reason. “If you heard the things I heard, knew the things I knew, love, you wouldn’t think I was being so ridiculous. You have no idea how dangerous the High Court is, especially with people getting their powers back,” I explained.
As the Lord of Whispers, I heard the terrible confessions and ideas that were only voiced in whispers in the darkest corners of the High Court. When my powers and the whispers had faded, I had not forgotten about the awful things I’d heard. But with everyone’s powers lessening, my concerns regarding what was planned behind closed doors lessened as well.
Since my powers had returned, so too had the whispers of the secret desires and plots. And now I had Alarie to worry about keeping safe. She had not been around—had not even been born—when the plotting and scheming of the High Court had been at its might. I would do anything to keep her safe, even if it meant gluing Luke and his sticky hands to Alarie’s side when I couldn’t be around.
“But you’re the only one getting your powers back, Jay. Not everyone else,” she said.
“We don’t know that, Alarie,” I cautioned.
She looked back at me defiantly, unwilling to give in to my repeated demand that she be escorted when out of the manor, especially at night.
“Ok, what news?” I asked, setting aside the issue for now.
“Cass,” she started, looking up at me.
I clenched my jaw, locking my teeth together.
“Yes, I heard what your friend”—I spat the word—“has been up to while we were away.”
“Jay, you have to know that Cass would never, ever go after someone’s family, and if he could help it, he would have stopped something like that.”
I looked back at her coolly.
“Jay, Cass may be a bit of a practical joker. But this… this is not like the statue or the truffle. Do you think it was a coincidence that the head of the statue flew off before the rest of the statue fell? No,” she continued, without waiting for an answer. “That was Cass’s way of clearing the area so that no one got hurt. Cass wouldn’t hurt innocent people,” she pleaded for her friend.
“Your friend was not spotted at House Garaud, but some of his affiliates were confirmed in attendance by House Mouchard agents,” I said.
“And since when have we believed anything they say?” Alarie bit back.
I considered her words for a minute. “We received an almost immediate denouncement of the act and a denial of any involvement from Lord Dumont and his lot,” I admitted.
“Jay, I’ll swear to it. I’ll tell whoever will listen. Cass couldn’t have been involved.”
“Alarie, I’ve told you before about needing to be cautious about the political positions you take—”
“Jay, this isn’t a political position. This is my friend I’m talking about!”
I didn’t want war with the lesser fae any more than Alarie wanted Cass pinned for the Lord Garaud incident. Luckily, Alarie and I had arrived just in time from Breakpoint, before Lila had time to work this into something bigger than it needed to be.
“I need to discuss this with the King,” I said, pushing myself off my desk that I was leaning against.
I grabbed Alarie’s hand as I began to walk back toward the door. “And you’re coming with me,” I said.
Alarie looked disenchanted with the idea of going to House Heroux at this time of the night.
“Don’t worry about the hour, love. Grey’s definitely still awake and, anyway, he knows about us, so he won’t question you being with me this late hour.”
“Ok,” she capitulated, going to grab her heels.
I beat her to them.
“I’ll hold on to these,” I said, her tiny heels hanging off two of my fingers.
“And since your lovely feet are so sore, I’ll carry you to House Heroux,” I said.
We arrived at House Heroux minutes later. I placed her onto the cobbled stones in front of the King’s House and held her hand while she balanced, slipping on her heels. We were immediately admitted to a small private study of the King’s, where I was informed that the King would join momentarily.
“Jay, if you were going to show up this late, why the hell didn’t you just join me for drinks to begin with?” King Heroux asked as he entered the study.
I could blame it on work, but the truth was that I’d been waiting for Alarie to come home.
“Why don’t you come have a nightcap?” the King continued before his eyes drifted over to Alarie.
“Well, I knew you’d be up, and there is something I wanted Alarie to share with you,” I replied.
At the mention of her name, the King looked momentarily toward Alarie, giving her a slight nod, before returning his gaze to me.
“Ok, what’s the news?” the King inquired.
“It’s about the news from the north with Lord Garaud,” I replied, reaching my hand toward Alarie and drawing her toward me.
The King’s eyes squinted with a smile at the sight of my fingers interlocked with Alarie’s.
“I need a drink if we are going to talk about the damn north. A drink, Alarie?” the King offered, walking toward the bar at the end of the room.
“Scotch would be great…” Alarie replied confidently, before trailing off, unsure of what to call the King in this situation.
“Grey’s fine,” the King replied with a laugh, picking up on her hesitancy.
It seemed that the King, like Alarie, was already several drinks into his night.
“I’ll take one too, Grey. Thanks for asking,” I jested.
“Get your own drink, old man,” Grey retorted.
I chuckled, walking to the bar where he poured Alarie’s drink, pouring myself a nip of scotch, and walking back to Alarie with both our glasses in hand.
“To the Court, to the King”—I inclined my head toward Grey—“to the Kingdom,” I said, lifting my glass in the air in a toast.
Pride and a rare sense of contentment filled me at the sight of Alarie clinking glasses with my closest friend.
“Ok, what do you have to say then?” the King asked, exasperated, returning to business.
“Well, you know that Lord Dumont has denied any involvement in the incident with Lord Garaud and his family,” I replied.
The King raised his eyebrows, skeptically.
“The thing is, Alarie here knows Don Davante personally. She grew up with him, in fact, and can give some insight into who we are dealing with here.”
The King turned to Alarie, patiently but expectantly.
“Grey,” she began. “I have known Cass—Don Davante—my entire life. He’s one of my closest friends. For what it is worth, I would base my word and my life on the fact that he had absolutely nothing to do with terrorizing Lord Garaud’s family. I’ll go to Cass myself and confirm it if you’d like,” she offered.
Grey looked over at me.
“It makes sense. It does seem quite out of character with all of Don Davante’s other… shenanigans. And you’ve known Lord Dumont for years. It isn’t like him either. And then you have to consider where a lot of our information on this has come from—House Mouchard,” I spat, not trying to hide my plain dislike of High Lady Tragon’s maiden house.
“For fuck’s sake. The stuff with the wall and now this shit,” the King exhaled, ineloquently. “What do you suggest, Jay?”
“You have pushed it off long enough. Like I have been telling you, we need to treat with Lord Dumont.”
“Jay, I know. You’re right, it’s just—” the King paused, remembering that Alarie was still in the room.
Grey turned his gaze toward Alarie, realizing she had witnessed the manner in which I’d spoken to him, totally lacking in any deference, almost admonishing him. I saw the direction and tone of Grey’s gaze and knew the King regretted allowing Alarie to witness the true power dynamic between us and how he often deferred to me. We were good friends and the closest of confidants, but as King, Grey had never quite forgotten the number of people who would have supported me as King over him all those years ago.
“Alarie, I don’t believe we require further assistance from you tonight. I’ll see you back at the manor,” I said, adopting my best high lord impersonation and dismissing her.
Alarie pretended not to have noticed the change of mood.
“Someone will walk you home.” I wasn’t asking. I’d send a whisper for someone to meet her before she could leave the study.
“My King,” Alarie said succinctly, bowing her head and leaving her glass on the table. “My lord,” she gave me a slight nod of her head before departing.
* * * *
“Grey’s fine. He can just get a bit touchy about his… perception,” I explained, entering Alarie’s room later that night.
“So, what’s the next move?” she asked, pulling me by my hand to sit on the side of her bed.
“Well, we need to head off any kind of skirmish with the lesser fae in the north,” I said, gracefully falling onto her bed. I absentmindedly trailed my hand over the area where I knew her flat stomach was hiding underneath the comforter.
“You think it’ll come to that? I told you it wasn’t Cass,” she asked, clearly concerned.
“Even if it is not Cass, it was someone. I’ve been telling the King for quite some time that the magic dying in Valencia has placed a lot of unwanted work on the shoulders of the lesser fae. That, combined with the misconception that King Vandros is some kind of champion of the lesser fae, was bound to stir up some trouble,” I continued.
“But he’s not, is he?” Alarie asked, referring to King Vandros. “He’s not some kind of hero for the lesser fae?”
“The Diamond Court is less divided than the High Court when it comes to the lesser fae, or at least it was before the wall went up. And there are more lesser fae lords and ladies at the Diamond Court than there are at the High Court,” I responded.
“But don’t mistake Rex for a good man. I believe even he would tell you he is not,” I admonished. “He is, by far, the most ruthless man I have ever had the misfortune of knowing. In his world, there is only power. And everything else in life is a far distant second.”
Alarie raised my hand to her mouth. Taking the edge of my hand between her plump lips, she grazed her teeth against my skin, trying to pull me back from my anger.
“So, no,” I said, clipped, “Rex is not any kind of hero. But King Heroux’s relationship with the lesser fae is a far cry from perfect,” I admitted.
“So, what’s the verdict?” Alarie asked.
“Lord Dumont is coming to the High Court for talks,” I said.
Alarie was visibly relieved to hear that things were going in the direction of diplomacy instead of escalation. She leaned into me, landing a playful bite on the side of my neck as she did so.
“I have more good news, love. But you must promise to speak of this to no one,” I cautioned.
“I promise, Jay! What is it?” she asked excitedly.
“Grey told me that he and Gloria will soon be engaged.” Alarie’s eyes went wide in surprise. “There will be a year, or perhaps two, of planning and parties, but eventually we will have a queen again,” I said. “It will be good for the Kingdom. The parties and the unity that having a queen will bring.”
“Oh, wow! That’s great, Jay.” Alarie exclaimed, her beautiful face lighting up with a smile. “A royal wedding. We haven’t had one of those in…”
“A very long time, love.” I finished her sentence, pulling her close to me. “You are, by far, the most singular thing I have ever had the pleasure of calling my own, Alarie,” I whispered into her hair.