Page 3 of Milk and Honey

I took a sip and a lash of cinnamon fire popped on my tongue in the middle of the creaminess, the taste immediately fading to a slightly-too-sweet version of my favorite drink. It was very good, but I felt like I’d gotten static-shocked for some reason, and I had to physically shake my head to chase off a light daze.

“Perfect!” I assured her, figuring Bailey could use a win after having her shop burglarized, or at least vandalized. The worried lines at her forehead smoothed out immediately, and I knew the little white lie was worth it. Mat appeared out of the back room with a wide-eyed look, the door smacking on the wall and making both Bailey and I jump as he stared at me.

“Bailey, did you—uh—did you make Mel’s drink for her?” His eyes darted to the canister on the counter and back to the drink in my hand, an almost manic and completely uncharacteristic smile plastered to his face.

Honestly, it was freaking me out a little. I’d been coming here for more than a year now and I’m not sure I’d ever seen Mat smile, let alone like this. Who knows, maybe they wanted to get back to banging and I’d interrupted them. Well, far be it for me to stand in the way of rough, dirty workplace sex, right?

I lifted the cup in a salute as I turned and headed out, calling back over my shoulder. “She did, it’s delicious! Gotta run, thanks Bailey!”

Mat looked like he wanted to say something else, but just lifted his hand in an awkward wave before leaning in to Bailey and whispering something. I hurried out the door, taking another sip. There it was again, that strange snap of warmth in the flavor.

I kind of liked it, I decided, and my former tiredness seemed to ebb away as I nursed at my milky-honey confection of a coffee drink, sliding back into my car.

Okay, no, I really liked it. Bailey could make my drinks from now on and I’d flirt with her. Sorry-not-sorry, Mat.

I giggled at the thought and cranked the radio, heading into work with a spring in my proverbial step that lasted until I pulled into the lot. A few of the day shift girls were clustered around the back door talking to a cop, gesturing out towards the street. In the center of the knot of people, Vic looked absolutely stricken, nodding at something the cop was writing down. What the hell had swept the city last night?

“Vic? What’s going on?” I called out as I climbed out of my car and reached into the back seat for my bag. I was glad I hadn’t changed into my heels yet, I made it across the parking lot in record time, stress-clutching my cup so tightly I worried I’d crush it. A thousand possibilities tumbled through my head: a bouncer had gotten physical, someone had brought in drugs, or maybe one of the girls offered something “off menu” to an undercover. As far as I was concerned, that last one was a matter between two consenting adults, but the state didn’t tend to agree and the Pole would take the heat for that.

“We got hit, Mel. Some goddamn punk with a gun, and he knew where the safe was, somehow.” Voice hoarse, he shoved a hand into his hair, looking halfway to tears as he stared sightlessly at the back steps. As I approached, the officer quietly explained that he was finished questioning Vic for now, and that I might want to take him inside to sit down. I set my cup on the edge of the steps to take Vic’s arm, nodding to the cop gratefully as I steered my shell-shocked manager through the small crowd, up the stairs, and into the office.

He babbled as I led him to the creaky green leather chair that held court in his tiny office. “I should have- I don’t know. I should have done something, Mel. God, I’m so sorry. You girls deserve better than this.”

“What are you talking about? You do plenty for us, Vic. I’ll smack anyone that says otherwise. Besides, I didn’t see any of the girls out there hurt, so I think you did just fine.” I rubbed a gentle circle between his hunched shoulders, hoping Mary had been called and was on the way. Vic needed more support right now than just an empathetic coworker.

“Mel, he got the money. The receipts. I can’t pay you girls until we make it back, and it’s going to take a few nights, at least. You all have bills, I know you do, and so do I. This is just a huge shitshow.” He groaned and buried his face in his hands. “All this because Rog was late to his door shift. Fucking traffic.”

Rog definitely would have slowed the asshole down, if not taken him out entirely. Our regular bouncer didn’t believe in guns, but he damn sure believed in knives and knowing where to stick them. Though jovial and kind by nature, it instantly evaporated the second a patron so much as breathed wrong around any of the girls. He’d be as devastated as Vic that this happened.

The reality of what Vic said sunk in slowly, but the list of bills in my head resurfaced with a vengeance and my stomach flipped. Rent. I couldn’t be evicted right away, right? They had to take payments if I offered to work with them, right? Swallowing thickly, I kept my anxiety to myself for Vic’s sake, sinking into the chair across the desk to wait for Mary to arrive.

ELIM

The night’s comforting darkness had grown thin, as had my hope in my unexpected luck. Whatever stone the walls had been made from, any pockets of magic had eroded long ago: hardly surprising, considering the tower’s purpose. My own skills were useless with so much iron in close proximity, so I dug and chipped away at a piece of crumbling mortar with the tiny point of the shard-of-night.

I’d all but accepted my fate to join my brother in the soil when the pendant suddenly sank into the wall as if it were made of mud, followed by my hand. I pulled my hand back instinctively, still clutching the pendant, marveling at the warm, damp air that had surrounded it a moment ago. I’d only hoped to connect the shard-of-night with a pocket of unstable magic, hopefully weakening the wall enough to push through. But whatever I’d found felt more like a portal, the sorts that allowed the occasional passage of emissaries between the Shadow Court and the Bright Court. Portals were only found in the physical courts themselves, carefully closed on both sides until formal agreements were made to open them during rituals or meetings.

I’d never left the Shadow Court, my late elder brother assuming those responsibilities for the both of us since I was a child. There had been pressure from my advisors to take a bride, as Glade was still considered too young to take the second monarch seat—under my rule, anyway. Apparently Gretvir had no such qualms, with his bald eagerness to subvert rule and control my young niece in one fell strike. Fear unbecoming an Unseelie prince slithered through me, even with my own escape at my fingertips.

The Bright Court wouldn’t welcome an unannounced intrusion, but were far less likely to execute me with the speed my uncle and cousins intended to. I strode to the wall again, shoulders straight, determined to walk into the unknown with my chin held high. This could even be a good thing, I reasoned, as I could inform the Court of my uncle’s treachery, or perhaps even form an alliance to unseat him. I’d be there to greet Glade as she arrived, even if I couldn’t convince her people to ride out and find her. Perhaps Glade’s mother might even vouch for me for my brother’s sake, if I could find her quickly enough.

Mind made up, I pushed my hand against the mortar, my fingertips finding the soft edge of a void that gave as I pressed. I pushed my body against the strange opening, shoving it back like heavy piles of leaves, just barely making enough space for my head and chest. Panting with effort, I shoved my other shoulder through, my eyes opening to nothing but darkness and a putrid smell that puzzled me. The Bright Court was, I was told, awash in flowers and beauty, this was a scent closer to our foulest swamps and growing more pungent as I entered the portal.

A great rush of wind at my back shoved me tumbling through the darkness, my feet scrambling to find purchase on a ground that no longer existed. I fell a short distance, landing in an undignified heap on what felt like solid stone, gravel biting at my knees through the thin black silk of my traditional royal garb. I stood immediately, expecting to face several angry Highborne guards, but instead found a great square cauldron, metal and vast, green as the woods. It was the source of the putrid smell, or perhaps it came from the small, hissing creature that boldly flashed its fangs at me from beneath the cauldron.

I followed suit, drawing up my lips to show off my own impressive fangs, hissing in a display of dominance. Whatever fae creature I’d stumbled upon, it needed to understand I was royalty, even if this Court was unfamiliar to me. The creature scurried away and I smiled, gratified that I’d defended my position even as I dealt with disorientation from the portal.

The great grey wall behind the cauldron was painted in colorful, unfamiliar runes, cast in bright daylight that my eyes struggled to adjust to. A haggard looking man stumbled into view as I blinked, fumbling at his side for something and giving me a bleary glance as he brought it to his mouth, pointing overhead for some reason as he questioned me. “Who the fuck are you? You one of them?”

I drew myself up, intended to formally request asylum, when the man threw a dismissive wave my way. “Nah, nah. You ain’t no alien, not green enough. No government agent, neither. No stick up your ass.”

He cackled wildly, senselessly, at his own apparent joke and stumbled out of view, hand periodically returning to his mouth as he walked away.

Uncomfortable with the blaring presence of the bright sun, I puzzled at the strangeness of the Court I found myself in, realizing belatedly the man’s ears hadn’t had points. His teeth, blackened and jagged, were nonetheless blunt. The only creatures I’d heard of that looked that way were humans, but that was impossible: they didn’t live among the fae. Did the Highborne keep them as pets, perhaps? That one had been very ill-behaved, if so, and I’m reasonably sure he’d insulted me several times.

The breeze lifted around me, taking away the putrid smell that had greeted me and replacing it with something that resonated in me to the very core. I followed it around the outer edge of a wall, ignoring the distinct smell of iron woven through seemingly everything around me. On the edge of a nearby stone platform, a small covered cup waited, an indescribable sweetness wafting towards me. I instinctively reached for it, recalling fondly the tales of offerings left for our ancestors by humans in need of our aid. The tales usually mentioned a dish of cream or milk and a small piece of bread, but only the cup awaited me now, its presence a more formal tradition of invitation among our people. A welcome sight in an unfamiliar land, it filled me with hope that I could retake the throne and protect Glade, should my luck hold.

I lifted the cup to my lips, the edges warm in my palms, and drank politely. My eyes widened at the distinct snap of magic that filled my mouth and took root, sliding down my throat and tinting my vision with a haze of beauty and lust like I’d never known. Overwhelming sweetness and light filled my senses, surely the work of the Bright Court, but safe and reassuring somehow. A clunk and grate of metal sounded above me as a great metal door swung open and the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen appeared, suspended inches above the ground on spiked, ornamental shoes that balanced her body perfectly, her tight-fitting dress so red it would make fire itself envious. The costumes in this Court were beyond imagination, but I noted with appreciation the sensuality they offered: it was all but an invitation to bed, and little surprise given the rumored lustiness of Bright Court fae. My brother hadn’t stood a chance.

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