Page 1 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
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Rows of jade pillars rise impossibly high, disappearing into the shadows overhead. If there’s a ceiling, I can’t see it.
Ahead, translucent emerald steps lead up to a dais, but no throne stands upon the platform. Instead a narrow archway looms above me. Across its mouth ripples a curtain, the smoky gray of the sky before a thunderstorm.
A booming voice rolls from somewhere beyond the curtain, echoing through the great empty hall. “Kneel.”
I fall to my knees. There’s relief in the act, in the submission, because I’ve traveled so far to get here, and I’m tired of making my way alone—I want to yield to the will of another.
“What is your request?” asks the Voice.
“You’re the one they call the Green Wizard?” I ask. “The one who can do anything—even the most powerful spells?”
“I am.”
“I’ve heard tales of your mercy.” My voice shakes, so I pause to swallow, to breathe. “You grant one request to each supplicant who appears before you.”
“That is true. And there are many who desire my aid, so make haste. What is your wish?”
I hesitate, glancing around. I haven’t seen any other supplicants—in fact, the city was thinly populated, and I spotted only a handful of guards and a few servants on my way to this chamber.
But it was a long journey, with many obstacles. Perhaps many attempt it, but most give up along the way. I’m here out of sheer desperation. I have no other recourse.
“I am Unseelie,” I say. “But I am defective. I’ve been born wrong. I’m not as strong as I should be—I’m too weak, too soft. I need the power to defeat pain and grief, the strength to overcome my desires, and the confidence to face the things that terrify me without running away. I need to be different. I need courage.”
“Courage,” says the Voice slowly. “What is courage, but the power to defeat any obstacle that stands in your path?”
“Yes, my Lord.” I remain at the foot of the steps, kneeling, bracing my palms against the glossy floor. It appears to be cut from one titanic gemstone, and as I stare down, I perceive deeper and deeper into the emerald’s green heart, into its slanted inner facets and sparkling layers.
The Wizard must do this for me. He must give me the strength to go back to the Unseelie lands—to face Riordan, if he still lives—to deal with the reality that my mouse, my sweet human, is dead, her heart torn out and eaten, swallowed by that wretched Queen, godsdamn her.
Even now, I can’t think of Alice without my whole body turning molten, my muscles contracting and my cock hardening with a compulsive need I can’t shake. I was in heat when I left Riordan and Alice behind, and I’ve been in heat ever since.
A Fae’s heat shouldn’t last this long—four or five weeks at the most. I’ve endured months of this torture. I’ve struggled with a constant burning desire, even as I sailed the seas of Faerie aboard a merchant ship. On island after island, I tried to fuck other Fae to give myself some relief, but my body wouldn’t permit it. No matter whom I chose, in the end I couldn’t bear their scent or touch. I’m craving one fragrance, one soft mortal body, one set of curious gray eyes. A scent and body belonging to a dead woman.
The need for Alice is driving me closer and closer to the edge of a despairing madness, a ravine so deep I will never be able to claw my way out of it. I’ve become weaker than a fucking Seelie Fae, as forlorn and weepy as any frail human. I can’t even muster the fits of rage that used to give me some relief when I encountered something beyond my control.
I need more than a temporary spell or potion. I need something that will change the very fabric of who I am.
The Voice has been silent, as if in contemplation, and I’m afraid to push for an answer lest he deny me.
The curtain within the archway blows outward, detaching from its frame and rising high, a silvery, undulating veil. The black archway dissolves into dust, and the curtain itself condenses, shaping itself into the shimmering, indistinct form of a person, floating high above the dais. Looking upon that figure, I’m overwhelmed by worshipful awe, by the desire to serve this powerful being. I need someone, something to—
“Your wish is granted,” says the Voice. “I will give you the courage and strength you requested,”
“Thank you, Magnificent One,” I breathe, bowing lower. “And it will be permanent?”
“Unless I reverse it… yes.”
At the last word, a thrum of power passes through my chest. My heart hammers fiercely as it swells, larger, larger. My blood pumps faster as magic rushes along my limbs.
I’m changing, and not only on the inside, as I expected. My body is altering as well.
“What is happening?” I cry, but my voice is swallowed in a heavy, panting, growling sound.
The Voice beyond the curtain chuckles, low and malevolent. “Why so distressed, little Cat? Is this not exactly what you wished for? The courage of a lion?”
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