Page 20 of Pining for the Prince
This fae was as canny as they came, Gwil knew his questions would need to be specific or the answers would be full of vagaries and half-truths. “What information did you sell, and to whom, that upset the orcs?”
Chase smirked. “Nothing that upset the orcs.”
“All right, that upset whoever paid the orcs to give you a good kicking.”
“Now that’s better. It’s debatable whether it’s real information or just a story from the fae realm that someone who wanted could twist into something real.”
Most of mythology was like that, the humans couldn’t keep stories straight in their history books, had squandered the presence of the oracle at Delphi, where the priestess had delighted in misdirecting their peers into believing any old rubbish, and he hadn’t met a human who wasn’t oblivious to the one in Moorgate.
“Which was?”
“The five vials of the tears of youth are real. They don’t work in the way humans think, they give a longer lifetime for a human but only because they sit between realms, drawing extra time from each.”
He scoffed. “That’s not new news, twinkletoes, so you might have told that to a couple of orcs but whoever sent them wouldn’t have fallen for it.”
“You’re brighter than you look. Or older, it’s amazing what some humans will and won’t believe.”
“We’re not talking about humans.”
Chase picked up the bowl and drank the rest of his soup. “There’s a relic. You might have heard the Met have been raiding places trying to find it.”
He’d been quick to dismiss the idea there was anything new and shiny. Relics came up almost every other week, one of his sidelines for the Vampire Council was investigating the rare incidences that could be real, and nothing of that ilk had come his way for decades. But then Hyax had mentioned Goya had visited…
“What sort of relic?”
Chase cocked his head to one side. “Fae of course.”
“Bullshit. Nothing leaves the fae realm without the royal family of whichever tribe knowing.”
“Seems like they aren’t as omnipotent as they think they are,” Chase said, smirking.
“Okay, let’s say that it’s true, what sort of relic is it? And remember, while I might not be fae, I have a fairly decent grasp of fae history so don’t lead me more of a merry dance than you’ve already tried.”
“I guess it’s not really a relic per se. There was once a belief that all fae talent, no matter the faction, came from the Coronet of Alphal, although it turned out to be more of a conduit. But the coronet has seven pretty spikes with a jewel on the top of each representing the seven tribes. The fifth spike has a crystal to drive transmutation—pity it’s a fake.”
For a moment he thought Chase was taking the piss, or that he might be high on something that had damaged his mental faculties, but there was something about the way his eyes sparkled that made Gwil reconsider. “I would have thought the fae would have noticed.”
“The coronet is in the keeping of Queen Talia’s tribe. They know but none of the other tribes do and she needs to get it back before they find out—what do you think the Met police are searching for on behalf of the fae once the royal family established it was no longer in the fae realm? And who do you think sent the orcs after me for telling a few people the truth?”
It wasn’t the most outlandish story Gwil had ever heard, but it was close. “Given this would be a bit of a big deal, how the fuck do you know?”
“I’m one of Queen Talia’s concubines. Or I was. I lost that gig when I got caught helping myself to a few additional pieces from the palace.”
He did not like where this was going. “I guess that’s why you have your magic limited and were cast out.”
“Yup.”
“Surely she didn’t tell you, or they’d have known you knew about the stone, and you’d have been serving time within an iron circle.”
He scoffed at that. “They might have cast me out, but us fae are not barbarians, the iron circle is for only the worst criminals. And a few silk scarves and perfume are hardly worth that.”
Something else that didn’t add up—the Queen’s Concubines might be dismissed by some as posh prostitutes, but in reality it was a cherished position and fitted with Chase being a summer dancer, and the same could be said for those assigned to the king. “Why did you risk your future for something so trivial?”
“It wasn’t the stealing per se, more the selling them on to a buyer who paid huge amounts for things belonging or smelling of the queen. Don’t look at me like that, it’s not like I was selling her used knickers or anything intimate.”
“Fucking hell.” He realised Chase still hadn’t told him how he knew. “But how did you find out about the stone?”
Chase waggled his eyebrows. “Her Majesty talks in her sleep.”
