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Threats at both of my homes tonight. I pondered the possibilities. SAFARI, the hate group that existed to try to promote laws against draugr and fae, was always near the top of my list. The occasional upstart draugr who knew that my great-gran was the draugr queen could be trying to attack her by way of attacking me. Random relatives of dead folk I’d beheaded? Some obsessive interested in the stunning faery prince I’d supposedly entrapped? And of course, the Hexen Master I’d resurrected from the dead was out there, and his murderer, Chester, who was behind a number of questionable things in the world—and was developing a hatred toward me that I couldn’t quite fathom.

My fan club was vast and varied.

I glanced back, scanning the crowd as if I could spot an instigator. Silly, perhaps, but the raw truth was that a certain sort of hatred included wanting to see your victim suffer. And sometimes that meant first-hand, not via photos or video.

“We have trespassing laws,” Gary told the crowd sternly, peering at the tourists through the flowering wall of thorns. “Blockading this residence or attempting unlawful entry will land you in jail if you are seen here again.”

The officer who’d driven me to the house joined Gary. He held out old-fashioned Polaroid pictures. It might not be high-tech, but today that meant it was exactly the right tech.

“We keep a log on any perceived threats to our resident princess witch,” Gary said in a lighter tone.

As the tourists and Officer Davis filtered away, I stepped up to the gate to my property, which opened at my approach.

The vines that covered the gate were seemingly absorbed into my body little-by-little, and tiny thorn-picks of blood dropped onto the soil inside the fence. It was a minimal amount of blood, but it hurt all the same. A thousand thorn pricks as the armor anchored to my flesh. Later, I’d need a tall glass of revitalizing smoothie—blood and herbs—to restore me from that blood loss, but it was a small cost for the layer of magical armor that now coated my skin.

“Gary?” I called as the remaining vines—those covering the rest of the fence—began to grow. Once the gate closed, it would again be thorn and rose covered.

Gary met my gaze. He had stayed outside the gate. “Crowe?”

I beckoned him forward, and the vines lashed out and laced together behind him. A thorn-coated wall started to expand, steering him forward.

When he crossed the threshold into my property, I felt the magic in the soil rise up.

“Hold still for a moment,” I ordered.

My land read him as truly as any serum or technic invented by man or magic. If he had threat in his heart directed to me or mine, he’d not take a step closer. I trusted him enough to invite him in, but there were reasons no one came here without a level of trust I rarely bestowed. To enter with violence in heart would result in death. It was a bit of magic I’d recently added to our home.

The shock on Gary’s face was enough to make me smile.

When the roses dusted him with deep red petals, I said, “Come into my home, and be welcome here, Gary Broussard.”

“You’re scarier than you used to be, kid.” Gary shook his head, but he strode forward as if he was nonplussed by ancient magic reading his heart.

And though I’d offered him the mildest of formal invitations, and his words were mild, he still looked a bit gobsmacked as he crossed the lawn and approached the vine-draped house where my assistant was waiting.

By the time we went inside, I thought Gary would have something to say, but he was looking around like the mere thought of being inside my house was stunning.

“You okay?” I finally asked.

“Sure, kid. Sure.” He cleared his throat. “Can I call you that now that you’re all . . .” He motioned around at the hallway as if it was a clarifying word.

I knew what he meant, but I wasn’t particularly pleased by it. “In a hallway? Inside? Walking?”

“A damned princess.” He bit the words off. “You’re a monster-beheading, blue-haired, smart-mouthed witch. I came to terms with all that, but you’re not exactly making it easy on me these days. You know how much shit I got shoveled at me over potentially endangering the heir to Elphame? Not just in-house, Crowe. I got feds calling up the boss, and my boss . . .”

His words faded into a sigh as I stared at him.

“You, Gary Broussard, are my friend. And I like working with you, and I’m good at beheading fangers.” I crossed my arms. “I’m still me.”

He nodded, but he looked about as convinced as I felt.

Then the door to the main living quarters jerked open, and my assistant stood there holding onto what looked like a frozen Bloody Mary.

I stared at the drink and pressed my lips together.

“Oopsie!” Allie backed up. “Didn’t know you brought company, boss.” She held the frozen actual blood concoction out to me like it was a normal greeting. “Can I make you a cocktail, too? I cook when I’m stressed, so I made the boss a drink, you know? It isn’t like she always drinks . . . err . . . I mean everyone drinks. Perfectly normal, right?” She shook the glass at me. “Bloody Alice, boss.”

I closed my eyes and hoped I wasn’t about to rattle poor Gary’s brain. If he thought me being a princess complicated his life, he’d have a coronary if he discovered what exactly a Bloody Alice was or why I needed one.

“Lots of people drink, Ms. Chaddock,” I muttered, pointedly not using her first name.

Gary looked at me. “Crowe, your assistant is going to make me think you’re a lush or—” He stopped himself. “Are you Mrs. Chaddock? Widow of Alvin Chaddock.”

Allie all but shoved the drink into my hand and tugged Gary into the house. “You knew him? My sweetie?”

“He donated to a lot of charities. His son, your . . .” Gary looked awkwardly at me.

I smothered my amusement in a long drink of my blood smoothie. Like a lot of rich old men, Alvin Chaddock married a woman who was the same age as his kid. I couldn’t judge too much; I still had no idea how old Eli was. The question wasn’t one he was at ease answering, so I let it go.

At a certain age, I guessed that numbers stopped mattering.

I wasn’t sure how old that was for humans, but whatever people thought or accused, Alice Chaddock adored her late husband. Still. She’d tried to murder me as a result of her loyalty to him and his son, convinced me to enthrall her dead stepson, and continued to convince me not to behead him. Allie might be a bit intense, but she was one of the most loyal people I’d ever met.

“Tres,” I interjected into whatever chatter Allie had been sharing. “Her stepson is Tres.”

I met Allie’s gaze. “So . . . why were there so many people outside the house? And how did you get trapped in here?”

Allie pouted briefly, which meant that I wasn’t going to like the answer. “I reserved the cathedral like you said, to . . . err . . .”

“It’s okay,” I said. “NOPD needs to know sooner or later.”

“Right.” Allie gave one sharp nod. “So I reserved the cathedral, asked about setting up a perimeter, booking guards . . . you know. I let on that it was an important event. That I had a royal pain of a boss. Not that you’re a pain that often, boss. Just trying to be hinty without being too subtle.”

Gary’s eyes were wide. “You’re having the royal wedding here? You’re. . . that’s . . . you’re Jewish.”

Allie sighed.

“True,” I admitted. “People are sometimes daft, though. They aren’t thinking that a Jewish witch marrying a faery wouldn’t actually be having an indoors wedding ceremony in a Catholic church.”

“So, you aren’t hiring guards?” Gary asked.

“Oh we are.” Allie clapped her hands together. “I’m paying an embarrassing amount to the NOPD to pretend there’s a royal wedding, and I’m going to donate the whole thing to some couple who can’t afford a big ol’ wedding. Like a fairy godmother!”

Gary stared at her and then looked back at me. “It’s a distraction.”

I nodded.

“And today’s little crush of people was just the first bit of madness,” he added.

“Yes . . .?” I admitted sheepishly.

Allie put her hands on her hips and launched into a mother hen lecture. “Gen deserves a wedding without paparazzi and tourists and haters and—”

“She does,” Gary said, taking the sass out of her voice quickly.

“And the police will get paid the same as if it was there, so it’s a win-win.” Allie didn’t sound nearly as chipper or flighty now. She sounded scary as she poked him in the chest with one manicured fingernail. “And you will help us with this ruse, Officer Broussard, or I know people who will make you regret it.”

No one laughed, me because I thought she was as endearing as an angry mama bear and Gary because he was used to women with fierce attitudes. Alice Chaddock might be tiny and chirpy, but she was also the kind of woman who knew where bodies were buried, and in that moment, she was in full bridesmaid mode. This wedding would go off without a single error, or Allie might very well feed anyone who mis-stepped to proverbial dragons—or to the actual alligators since we were, in fact, hosting the real wedding out in the bayou.

“I’ll happily be point person to coordinate the wedding at the cathedral,” Gary said with a flicker of a laugh. “And I’ll not tell a soul that the witch will marry her faery prince right here in our own version of a fairy tale castle. I’ll nudge and raise a brow and be very subtle.”

“Excellent.” Allie hugged him. “Gen said you would likely help.”

Whatever else she was, Allie was a part of my found family—and although Allie had no idea yet, I suspected she’d be literal family in time. The king of all fae had decided to marry her. They hadn’t dated or anything, but fae relationship decisions were perplexing to me, even after magically marrying my own faery prince. Take Eli, for instance. For reasons only Eli knew, he’d met my blood-covered, sword-swinging, foul-mouthed self and thought “she’s the one.” He’d lived in exile, been my friend, and eventually my bonded spouse.

Weird courtship was a fae thing.

Unfortunately, so was the giant wedding celebration I was currently unable to keep avoiding. I had to plan at least one, but probably two wedding ceremonies—which meant that I pulled my notes out of my bag.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this tonight?” I asked.

“You’re a terrible actress. I needed a scene. A real one. You delivered that because you were stunned.” Allie shrugged like her answer made perfect sense.

It didn’t, but neither did one of the wealthiest women in the city working as my assistant. Allie did what Allie wanted, and the rest of us just sort of coped as best we could.

“Let me get a drink for you while we get this part sorted out,” I told Gary. “Allie, give him your official statement on the attempted break-in.”

“Yes, boss.” She walked over to sit primly on the sofa as if polite manners would hide the vicious streak she’d just revealed.

“It’ll likely be all over the department within forty-eight hours,” Gary said. “Don’t be too subtle, Mrs. Chaddock. They need a few details to start gossiping.”

I tossed back more of my Bloody Alice, as I wandered off to find a bottle of vodka and bowl of fruit.

Might as well multitask.