Page 1 of A Fae in Finance
Chapter 1
In Which I Compose a Presentation
My manager’s email was titledYOU ARE LEADING THE CLIENT CALL.
Do not commit to, agree to, or provide a deadline
When he tells you he needs the deliverable tonight, hum noncommittally
Do not say any sentence including the words “you will have it by”
I mean it, Miri: DO NOT MAKE ANY COMMITMENTS WHATSOEVER
I will be listening in but will not speak.
Jeff
I stared at the email for a moment, twisting the thin gold band on my index finger. Doctor Kitten, the black and white cat on my lap, also stared at the email for a moment.
I giggled. Doctor Kitten glared up at me, disturbed by the movement. “Sorry, it’s just kind of funny,” I said, scratching his head.
ObviouslyI wouldn’t agree to anything the client asked—obviously I wouldn’t bind myself in promises or pearls for the Princeling. But there was something mundane and hilarious about this note, delivered via Microsoft Outlook and not scrawled in black ink on the soft underside of a torn bit of bark.
I tapped my fingers lightly on the keys, unsure whether Jeff wanted me to confirm receipt. He might just find the extra email irritating.
Finally, I sent a quickUnderstood; thank you.
When I shifted in my chair, my thighs stuck to the faux leather. The tiny window air conditioner was more enthusiastic than efficient, and I was already sticky from the summer heat. I had two screens glowing an unnatural blue in front of me: my silver work laptop and my larger second monitor. The artificial light hurt my eyes.
Doctor Kitten remained stubbornly nestled on my knees, despite my attempts to remove him. In the background, my “Pop Punk Hits of the 2000s” radio station started its third Good Charlotte song, putting me in exactly the wrong mindset for a client meeting.
The computer pinged—the soft insistentblipof a Microsoft Teams meeting—and the pop-up on the lower right-hand side of my screen invited me toJoin Meeting. Of course the Princeling had started it early.
“Robot Overlord, please stop the music,” I said, and the speaker turned off.
I joined the meeting, my left hand curled around a glass of what used to be iced tea.
The Princeling greeted me the moment the meeting loaded. “Hello, fair one,” he said, his voice distant and tinny.
“My lord,” I replied, scanning the attendees for Jeff. The Princeling’s unfairly attractive retinue had all joined, sharp faces against the artificially blurred backgrounds of the video software. No sign of Jeff, who seemed to feel that while timeliness may be a virtue, he’d never agreed to be virtuous.
“Share the agenda,” the Princeling instructed. I couldn’t tell if he was frustrated by my slowness, if he expected me to have it up and shared already. Perhaps I should have.
I shared my screen, the agenda now visible to everyone.
“Not much today,” I said, and my voice cracked. I wasn’t really new to this job anymore, but still in the liminal space where I didn’t know whether to start without my manager. Jeff wouldn’t talk, but he’d said he wanted to observe. “We should be done soon.” I shifted in my chair, which tilted backward unbidden.
The Princeling smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I knew I sensed prophecy in you,” he said.
I blanched.Did I just promise something?
“Not a prophecy,” I replied, frozen in place. “Just a guess.” My phone buzzed from the far side of my desk, beyond the lukewarm tea.
“She has prophecy, though,” the Gray Knight said, coming off mute. A loud shriek came through her mic, then cut off abruptly. “Look at her fractured eyes.”
Fractured eyes? I’ll fracture your face, I thought, because I’d spent half the night rereading the death-by-magic-flower adventures ofThe Jasmine Throneand the rest of the night formatting PowerPoint footers. Both of those activities made me feel murderous.
“’Tis true,” said another—the Red Knight. The Red and Blue Knights should have been indistinguishable, with equally shiny spills of untamed chestnut hair, penetrating eyes the frozen brown of soil packed down under an ice melt, and shoulders broad enough to splinter a front door. Fortunately, the knights always wore their colors. “Observe the tilt in the zygomatic bone,” the Red Knight added, gesturing with his pointy, dimpled chin.
