Page 10 of Faking with the Fae King

“And the permanent protection?” she asks.

“The spells will go into place as soon as we’re wed.”

“Thank you.” She grips my hand, her big eyes staring up at me, full of admiration.

It’s not a look I’m accustomed to seeing, and I like it far too well. I should correct her, let her know I do all of this tocreate a place on Earth for me and my people, not to help hers.

Yet I remain quiet.

I’m selfish enough to want her to keep looking at me this way.

Hannah refuses my offer of a flight to town, saying she wants to walk back through the woods to have time to think.

I remain in my garden until I feel the moment she steps off my land, then make my way inside.

Due to the anchoring spell I had my people use, my palace exists both on Earth and in Avalon, my home realm of Faerie. But people can only exist in either one or the other, so I also had them create a door to Avalon.

I push aside one of the heavy tapestries decorating the foyer’s wall to reveal a mirror set in a heavy gilt frame. The surface offers a darkened reflection of the well-lit room behind me and offers no resistance as I step through into another world.

There’s a moment of disorientation that feels like falling, then my foot touches firm marble. Technically, I stand within an exact copy of the foyer I just left. In actuality, it’s immediately clear it’s not. Magic hums in the ground, more powerful than that on Earth but splintered and unfocused. The air becomes stale without the sweet scent of growing things, and the tapestries lose some of their color. Thechandelier blazes overhead yet can’t quite light everything clearly, a haze of shadows clinging to corners and cracks—the lingering legacy of the Dark God.

My shadows slip outward, calling my closest advisors to me.

Daigan stalks in first, a perpetual scowl on his face and his shadow wings flaring wide. Even though he has the same light skin and black hair as I do, my warlord carries almost as much muscle as an orc. He also still wears fighting leathers, having refused to adopt a more human approach to clothing. There’s a reason I’ve tasked him with remaining here in Avalon to oversee its recovery.

“How go the preparations?” I ask. Since it’s impossible—at least at first—to bring all of the shadow fae to Earth, we’re setting up a rotation. My palace can hold a hundred at a time, and beyond my immediate staff, everyone else will switch out each week.

“They go,” he grunts, as eloquent as ever. But Diagan’s solid as a rock. If he says things are well in hand, then they are.

“He’s being modest.” Varyn strolls into the room, his smile so wide it makes one question whether it’s a show of good humor or a flash of fangs. Long years as his friend mean I know the answer is of course both. Silver tattoos coil over his dark-tan skin, matching the color of his metallic silver hair. Varyn is a very rare being, an ice fae turned shadow fae. He happily adopted human clothing and wears a dark-blue shirt offset with a silver waistcoat. “Daigan’s whipped everyone into line like the drill sergeant he was.”

“Ah, Varyn, just the person I wanted to see,” I say.

“You have something for me?” He spreads his hands wide. “I perish from boredom.”

“I do. The human town we’re joining needs new businesses. I want you to arrange for as many as you can from among the various types of fae.”

“What kinds of businesses?”

“Start with eateries and places our people will want to frequent. Shadow fae will make up a large part of the customer base.” Then I add on a personal request. I have my priorities, of course. “Make sure you find a brownie baker.”

“There’d better be a decent pub,” Diagan growls. “Orcs would be good for that.”

I scowl. He’s right—orcs make the best ales and ciders in all the realms—but there’s a problem. “The orcs of Alarria hate us. They’ve forbidden us from settling in their realm, due to all the warfare in the shadow fae’s past. They don’t care that was done under the orders of the Dark God.”

“But the orcs love their humans,” Varyn says. “They already have strong ties with the people of Ferndale Falls, since their leaders have married women from the town. I can work with that.”

“We’ll need our best conjurers to bespell the buildings as well,” I say. “Many of them are empty and unused. We should assume they’ll need to be fully furnished and equipped.”

“On it,” Daigan says.

“Lastly, the human town also needs an ongoing protection spell. The one I cast will fade in two weeks. I want everything prepared to make it permanent.” Like all shadow fae, my elfin ancestry means I have the ability to work several types of magic, but my main magical power is the only onethat will endure, my plant magic. The revitalized green in Ferndale Falls will last forever with appropriate upkeep.

“What kind of spell?”

“One that protects it from anyone who doesn’t believe in magic. Let the regular humans see nothing but what they expect.”

“Glamours and illusions.” Varyn’s smile shows off his fangs. “Excellent.”

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