Page 14 of Glimmer and Burn (Unity #1)

“It matters where we’re going. In the Night Court, blood matters.

The court that my genetics are attuned to doesn’t want me and I can hardly go waltzing around in the Day Court with the amount of sun and glorification of daylight everywhere.

” He took a deep breath and it was the first time she had ever heard his tone neutral.

The affect was unsettling. “If we can please get through this with expediency and less questions, I would be grateful.”

“Fine, okay.”

He turned to keep walking, but Miranda had a sour taste in her mouth. It wasn’t long before they reached a break in the rocks that functioned as a doorway to Night Court.

Drake had stopped, eyes averted and tension coiling in his posture. He’d been on edge since they started, but now he seemed to be using great effort to hold himself together. What had happened to make him so uncomfortable in his own court? What made him hate himself?

She couldn’t fathom how someone could hate who they were, especially when it was outside their control.

He didn’t choose to be fae any more than she chose to be a guardian.

She didn’t want to humanize the rogue, but the idea itched at her, nestled into her head and bothered her on his behalf.

Still, she couldn’t address it if he didn’t wish to share.

If he wanted to keep himself shrouded in mystery, she needed to let him.

“It’s just up here,” he said toeing at the sand.

He crossed his arms, face set in a controlled mask of indifference.

“Be on your guard. Night will be quite busy and we don’t want to draw too much attention.

Although…” His eyes raked up and down her body, though he lacked the drawl of innuendo his voice usually carried when remarking on her appearance.

“It will be hard to hide.” Once again, he made it all too easy to dislike him.

Miranda almost threw her hands over her chest, but she refused to rise to his baiting. Instead, she lifted her chin and met his roving eyes with a hard stare.

His responding smile was pained. “I was referencing your obviously guardian uniform.”

“I’m sure you were,” she challenged.

There was no normal spark of mischief in his gaze or feeling in his tone. “We should get this over with.”

He turned away from her and she was surprised to find she was disappointed that he hadn’t tried to flirt or shock her into anger.

She’d volleyed and he let the serve sink into the sand.

He continued without another word and Miranda was grateful that he couldn’t see the pout on her lips as she followed him into Night.

Shadow lay heavy over the buildings and pathways.

Smooth trees were integral to the structure of the buildings with black bark and gnarled, twisting, leafless branches.

Mist lingered low in the streets, gathering in corners and deep places.

The temperature dropped as they crossed and there were Faery everywhere.

Miranda raised her chin and walked with purpose. It wasn’t likely they’d be attacked unprovoked, but her guard was still up.

There was something about the way eyes followed them. About the whispers that trailed behind. Drake’s shoulders had tensed ever since they crossed courts. Were the stares and whispers directed at him , rather than her in her obvious uniform?

They waited for a group of fae to cross the footpath when one of the members locked eyes on Drake.

The fae wrinkled his nose like he had smelled something foul. “I told you this court is going to shit if the likes of him feels they can cross into our territory freely.”

Drake kept his head down, remaining silent and still as he waited for them to move on. Miranda’s mouth hung open, too stunned to react before the group had mumbled their insults and continued on their way.

“Hold on a damn second.” Miranda pushed ahead of Drake, glaring at the rude fae retreating down the path. “What the hell was his problem? We didn’t do anything to deserve that, I’m about to—”

She stopped when she saw Drake’s face. He was a different person, looking even more ravaged than he looked back in the Day Court. Lips a tight line instead of a mischievous smile, his blue eyes drawn and empty instead of alight and seductive. “Leave it, Miss Wilde. You’ll only invite trouble.”

“But…” she huffed, not accustomed to someone being blatantly rude.

In her world, you could be rude behind someone’s back or when whispering with your friends, but never to their face.

No matter how much they hated you, they would still smile and tip their hats.

Her fists kept curling and uncurling. She was itching to chase that guy down and see how much he sneered with his face in a puddle.

“Their disdain was not directed at you,” he snapped, “Your pride can remain intact and mine is not worth the riot you would undoubtedly incite if you retaliated. I assure you, love, I’m quite used to their derision.”

Her heart broke a little. Not because she cared about him , so much as it was heartbreaking that anyone would think so little of themselves. He shook his head, tearing his eyes away from her.

“No need for pity, I assure you my confidence is no less humble than it was before.” He smiled, attempting to placate her, she suspected, but it didn’t reach his eyes and his jest had lacked the wit and charisma his quips usually possessed.

“Just stay close, we haven’t much farther to go before we can be rid of this place.

” Drake started walking, slowing to make sure she followed.

“Just up here is where we can find my contact. He’s…

an old friend of my mother’s. He should be able to help us, though whether he wants to or not is another story.

Just let me do the talking, if you please. ”

Miranda nodded silently, perfectly content to do just that. She could concede that she was out of her depth here. She fell into step behind him, eyes downcast.

Drake led her through smooth, onyx halls their surfaces shiny and glinting, until they reached a small courtyard.

A gathering place filled with Faery. The air was sharper here, almost biting, and overpowered by a sickly floral scent.

Miranda stayed behind Drake as he approached a fae leaning in wait against a column.

“Kylin,” Drake’s voice was quiet, he gave a tall, willowy man a nod, “It’s been awhile.”

Kylin’s skin was cool ocher and offset the stark white of his eyes.

A trail of tattoos glowed when they caught the moonlight in intricate patterns Miranda didn’t recognize.

Miranda glanced at Drake and noted his ears were short enough to be covered by his hair.

She wondered if he styled it to hide the shape of them.

“Devin Drake. It has been a long time,” Kylin’s voice was smooth as silk, but somehow deadly.

Miranda recalled from her classes on the races of Unity that Faery were all granted a gift associated with their court.

Night Court Fae might breathe underwater, see auras, or grow stronger with the moon.

Did Drake have a power? She wasn’t sure how it worked with half-humans.

“This must be important if you’re finally willing to work together.”

Drake nodded as he replied, “Business has been doing well enough. And since you’ve been asking to expand your own trade, I’m finally able to partner with you as a supplier, if you can translate something for me.”

Kylin narrowed his white eyes. “You are offering me an ongoing trade partnership, for a translation?”

Drake’s posture was stiff, his distaste practically emanating from him. Miranda hadn’t known he planned to offer something he didn’t want to give. She would have felt guilty except that she had been the one to pay full price for the information in his hand.

“That’s true, but this…it concerns Graves.”

Kylin paused, glancing around. “Come with me.” He led them into a private parlor, so the three of them were alone. Then his eyes finally found Miranda. “Why is she still here?”

“We're...business partners, for the time being. Miss Wilde and I have an understanding.”

Kylin looked uneasy again, glancing around as if searching for enemies.

“You know his influence here. You can’t go throwing that name around and expect to get away without his knowing.

He’s the head of the Night Court, for solstice sake.

” Kylin swallowed, “I’m no supporter. He does what he likes and takes no heed of who he squashes.

While quite a few of us are unhappy with his methods, he has enough of a following that no one dares cross him. ”

“This should prove promising in that endeavor,” Drake held out the folder. “If you can translate it.”

Kylin sighed, but took it and read it first, silently. His face was ashen when he looked back up. “I’m not sure how this will help you, but I’m sure it will get you killed if you’re not careful. You, too, guardian.”

“I don’t care. I plan on saving my sister, whatever the cost,” Miranda snapped.

“Sister?” Kylin asked, arching a thin eyebrow.

“Yes, Cordelia Wilde,” Drake supplied, “I’m sure you’ve heard of her by now.”

The name registered instantly in Kylin’s face, how could it not? Graves was very publicly betrothed to Cordelia. Everyone knew.

“I see. Congratulations, I suppose," he offered, though the haughty tenor of his voice suggested he cared very little about the subject one way or the other.

Miranda narrowed her eyes. "You can take your congratulations and shove--"

"Can you translate this for us or not?" Devin cut her off, stepping between her and Kylin. He threw her a glare over his shoulder, and she hated being chastised by him.

Maybe she wasn't cut out for this sort of mission. Letting people talk to her however they wished was outside her capabilities. Her own mother hadn’t succeeded in tempering her anger in twenty-six years.