Page 50 of Crown of the Fae King

The chorus of voices made her jump, then she chuckled. “Right. The coating stays.” Her husband opened the curtains and switched on every light in the room. We all held our tongues while she examined the fanciful metal, each gemstone, and the rock that encased them.

Finally, she laid Hank back on the cloth and removed her gloves. She looked up at Wickham, who stood beside her. “You know this is impossible, don’t you?”

“That such stones could hold their shape and position while a rock grew around it? Aye. Impossible is a mild word for it.”

“Not just that. And forget the living metal. These are allstars.Ninestar stones. All the same color, all with perfect asterisms. Nearly all…perfectly…centered. These are not man made. I don’t know much about fairies, but I doubt it’s even fairy made. We’re talking tens of millennia. This is…hand of Godkind of stuff.”

This all coming from a woman who had just popped in from who knows where, with her eighteenth-century husband, on the arm of a witch.

“Forgive my ignorance,” Kitch said, “but what is an asterism?”

Macklyn nodded and pointed to one of the gems with a small stylus. “It’s an inclusion, which is a flaw of sorts. Mineral crystals or cavities filled with fluid or gas. An asterism is the result of needle-like lines that all intersect. Six of them. Their reflection makes a star. An asterism can occur in sapphires, diamonds, rubies. But if they are a good size, they’ve been named.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the Star of India? It’s a grayish-blue sapphire nearly the size of a golf ball. The Black Star of Queensland is a black sapphire. And the biggest is The Star of Adam, a blue sapphire the size of a large duck egg. Fourteen hundred carats, and worth a hundred million dollars if not more.”

Lorraine cleared her throat. “The Pleiades themselves are called an asterism.”

Macklyn’s eyes lit up. “Right!” She bit her lip, thinking, then her eyes lit again. “The Irish call itréaltach. It meansstarry.”

21

Lying Like A Rug

Ithought maybe all those bedrooms at Fairy Hunter Headquarters were going to fill up, but Macklyn and her dragon of a husband didn’t stay long. Once they were gone, I was able to relax, believing no one left in the house would be tempted to remove the plastic coating that protected us all.

There was only one more uncomfortable subject to address now, and that was why I’d taken off in the first place, only to be captured by the fairy and her goons. But now, my fate—and Hank’s—were tied to Wickham’s quest for answers. And clearly, I wasn’t safe out in the world alone if that woman with the purple eyes had told others about me.

So I was stuck.

Things weren’t cut and dry anymore. It didn’t matter if I disagreed with Wickham’s nonchalance about witches dying. I needed him now. For protection, at the very least, and at most, to find answers to the riddle of mycloch realta. It was a dangerous little pet rock, and the more I knew about it, the better equipped I’d be to find the right person to hand it off to.

Another family that could pass it down.

Urban and Everly were terribly affectionate. I figured she’d be popping out children any day now. But hunting fairies was enough of a burden. Protecting me was enough of a burden, at least for the time being. They didn’t need to be saddled with Hank for the rest of their lives.

Persi was about my age. And she was an obvious choice since she could hear Hank when he complained. But from what I’d gleaned from snippets of conversation, her childhood had been pretty rough, so I didn’t know if she ever intended to marry, let alone have kids. She was more of a solo act.

The fact that there were otherThirdsout there in the world, however, gave me hope. Maybe I could find another one who was fond of keeping secrets, who wouldn’t toss Hank in the city dump when they got tired of him.

Him, I say…even though I know Hank is a she…

The next day,I showered after breakfast and headed to the war room. Someone hissed, and I looked around to find Persi standing in the doorway to the gold and blue living room, waving for me to join her. Only she wasn’t alone.

As I headed her way, I heard a deep voice shouting from the study.“You are not going to Oxford!”

Then women shouting back.“Then you go!” “Somebody has to!”

Persi grimaced. “This is why we don’t say the ‘O’ word.”

Urban was bent over the wood piled in the grate of the fireplace but glanced up as I entered. “Reckon we may be here for a wee while.”

The rest of the team lounged on the comfy furniture. Persi picked up a book and took it to a chair by the window. Kitch seemed content to watch her read while he fidgeted with the small globe. Everly sat and smiled while she admired the sight of her husband on his bare knees, his kilt caught to one side. I chose the chair that faced away from him, not wanting to jeopardize our friendship a second time by ogling Urban.

The fire had just caught nicely when the arguing voices grew louder.

A door opened. Wickham’s voice.“I mean it.”

“Fine.”

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