Page 8

Chapter 8

Rahk

“Queen Vivienne finally agreed to see you, but only at a public event,” says my new steward, Edvear, his large ears twitching in his mop of curly brown hair. He’s a lowborn fae, so the air of the human world isn’t as taxing on him. For me, on the other hand? The air has a quality to it that reminds me of a battlefield strewn with corpses. The moment I arrived, I cursed Lord Nothril, Lady Nothril, and Ash for their errands.

As Edvear has already spent time in the human world, he’s an ideal candidate to help me order my affairs here. “She specifically asked that you come unarmed, alone, and consent to being escorted by a unit of her guards everywhere you go.”

I give a slow nod. “If that will make her feel less threatened, then I will comply.”

Ash failed to mention in his original order that he was specifically sending me to the human kingdom with the most antagonistic view of the fae. So not only am I to aid the restoration of the stolen human lands, I am to work with a monarch who believes I will kill both her and her young heir if given the chance.

I’m beginning to think I might be here longer than a few weeks.

Edvear chuckles slightly. “These humans do greatly underestimate the capabilities of a fae warrior.”

I shrug. “It is good that they do.”

“Very true. There wouldn’t be an opportunity for peace if they didn’t.”

A great crash and a groan of pain rips my attention up, away from the thinness of the air and my growing headache from the stench of grass, straw, earth, and manure. The ollea I applied earlier to take the edge off the flood on my senses is already wearing off.

There, a stone’s throw from us, is a fallen servant boy and a spilled pail of milk.

“What did you just do? That was all the milk we had for today!” screams a tall woman, rushing out of what seems to be the kitchen, given that she’s followed by a plume of smoke. “Curse Mary and her favors! I’m going to give you a solid thrashing and dismiss you without a recommendation, you imbecile!”

She drags the boy by the ear to his feet, ignoring his squealing protests, and I’m about to roll my eyes and move on, when she slaps the boy hard across the cheek.

Anger simmers to life inside me. That is not how my servants will be treated here. At Nothril, I didn’t have a say. But here, I am master, and I will not allow such ill treatment. “Enough!” I shout, leaving Edvear by the creek and hurrying across the small length of pasture, the boy’s cries of pain making me louder when I shout once more, “Enough, I said!”

My fist clamps around the woman’s wrist just before she hits the boy again. She spins toward me, releasing the boy at once, and her eyes go wide as dinner plates. She swallows. “My lord—”

I lean over her, keeping my voice level and restraining my hand from tightening around her wrist. She smells of yeast and soap and that underlying current of decaying humanity. “Thank you for working hard to ensure the excellent care of me and my house. But you are not permitted to raise a hand against any of my staff. Understood? Miss . . .?”

“Mrs. Banks.” She swallows and nods, but I don’t miss the line of fury she shoots toward the boy. “He’s no longer a member of this staff.”

The boy scrambles to his feet, several paces away from the two of us. As though afraid he will be hit again if he comes too close.

“Are you very hurt?” I ask him.

“No, my lord,” he replies quickly, ducking his head. His hair is dark and straight, falling into his eyes in shaggy clumps. His freckles stand stark against his pale skin. He looks like I could snap him in half with nothing but my hands.

“He showed up on my doorstep this morning. His sister—she’s a good servant, that lass—told me she had a brother in need of work. She failed to mention he was weak, incompetent, and hasn’t even had his voice deepen yet!”

Why am I dealing with this? I turn toward the boy, keeping my sigh under my breath, and ask, “You have need of work?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you worked before?”

“No, sir. My sister has taken care of us, but it’s getting harder for her to do it all by herself. I need this job, sir.”

“Are you willing to learn?”

“Yes, sir. I might be clumsy at first, but I work hard.”

I turn to the scowling Mrs. Banks. “Has he worked hard today?”

“Aye, my lord, but hard work doesn’t mean much when you’re using the day’s milk to water the grass!”

There’s something about the boy, about his earnest freckled face, and the unexpected flash of will in his gaze. He wobbles slightly on his feet, his shoulders stooping from strain, his chest heaving from exertion.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

The boy hesitates, the rest of his face turning the color of the handprint across his cheek. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, that’s half your problem,” I say to Mrs. Banks. “The lad’s growing. Look, he’s shaking with hunger.”

The boy’s eyes go wide—with horror—and he hides his revealing hands behind his back. “I can work. I don’t—”

“What’s your name, lad?” I ask.

The boy scratches the back of his neck. “Nat.”

“Go to the kitchen and eat, Nat. Then report to my study. You will be my personal attendant. This should be a better arrangement for everyone.”

The boy stares at me, dumbfounded. Then, at the snap of Mrs. Banks’s fingers, he follows her inside. When he does, he comes closer to me than he has been this entire conversation, and I get a hint of his very human scent.

I am already turning to go, but that scent—mostly dirty clothes and sweat—shocks me so much I freeze and look back. Nat’s scent is, unsurprisingly, distinctly human.

But it is also distinctly female .

I watch Nat’s retreat with new eyes, following every inch of the supposed boy’s frame. It’s a good disguise. I wouldn’t have caught it if I relied only on my eyes. But now I see the truth: the narrow shoulders, narrow waist, the way the shirt is slightly untucked to hide the definition of hips. The cut hair. Nat’s face flashes before my mind’s eye, and I watch as it transforms into a young woman’s.

No wonder she’s hungry. She’s a grown woman, and she must have starved herself to aid her disguise.

I watch until she disappears inside the house, my mind spinning. Who is this woman? Not a skilled servant, that is for certain.

My mind turns over Queen Vivienne’s requests for our meeting. Has she sent this woman to spy on me? If so, why would she send a woman disguised as a young boy? There are far more effective forms of subterfuge. Why would the queen set up an operation like this if it had so many points to fail? Surely, she has a capable spy who could masquerade as a stable hand or a maid.

What am I thinking? I shake my head and dismiss the idea. I’m thinking like a Nothril prince, looking for cutthroat politics at every turn. She is probably completely harmless, poor, and in need of work. Maybe she is unskilled and felt she had a better likelihood of landing a position if she were perceived as younger and more trainable.

Or perhaps she wears the disguise because she is afraid of being recognized. Has she accumulated debts or committed crimes? Does she fear being discovered and exposed?

Or . . . is she in danger?

It is odd, though, that of all places she would come to work, she would come here .

I’ll keep an eye on her.

I will have plenty of time in her company, now that I’ve made her my personal attendant. It will not be difficult to unravel her secrets. A slight huff comes from my chest as I shake my head. I do not need yet another concern on my mind right now, but here we are.

Edvear’s voice startles me from my thoughts. “How long will you stay in Harbright, do you think?”

I rub my jaw, still watching the door the young woman disappeared through. “I do not know.”

“The human world will take some getting used to.”

“Indeed, it will.” I consider confiding my realization in Edvear, then decide to keep it to myself for the time being. “Help the boy out, will you? I’m afraid I’ve made him an enemy in that woman.”

“You know, you could have dismissed him, my lord.”

“I thought of it.”

Edvear waits for me to elaborate, but I do not. I head back to the house. My mind lingers on the young woman, and perhaps it is my Nothril blood that makes me oddly excited about unraveling her secrets. No matter what angle I view this situation from, I cannot come up with a way she would be an effective threat against me. All that remains is an intriguing puzzle just begging to be solved.

A young woman masquerading as a boy?

I smile, and it is definitely my Nothril blood that makes me immediately think of dozens of ways to toy with her and her insistence upon this disguise.

Maybe my time in the human lands won’t be so terrible after all.