Page 22 of A Fae in Finance
Good. I didn’t care that I wasn’t really presentable or that Doctor Kitten was still wiggling in my arms trying to get free.
It was time to get answers.
We finally stopped in front of a door inlaid with tiny blue and gray and green gems that glittered in the variegated light provided by the luminescent wisps darting overhead. Taken together, the gems gave the impression of a sheer cliff face, pockmarked by moss. The unsteady colors and brightness lent the blue gems life, and they flowed from the top left corner of the door down to the bottom right like sun-drenched droplets down a torrential waterfall. Orwasit the lights—was there some magic animating the mosaic?
Before I could decide, the Gray Knight swung the door open and strode inside. I stopped on the threshold. The room was smaller than I’d expected, with a throne on a dais across from the doorway, and several chairs along either wall. Otherwise, the room was empty—no garish decor on rustic shelves or grand portraits of the Princeling on the walls. The Princeling sat on the throne. He was resplendent in a matching shirt and trousers embroidered with shining silver threads, legs splayed in a way that looked almost vulgar, his expression one of boredom. The Gray Knight stationed herself at his side, her eyes trained straight ahead.
“It is time to explain to you some measure of my plans,” he said, instead ofGood morning.
“Please do.” I strode into the center of the room and planted my feet, trying for a power pose. When I first went into finance, I’d watched this video on YouTube about how to stand in front of director-level executives to command respect. Now seemed like as good a time as any to try to bring that sort of confidence into a room. Doctor Kitten mewled, so I shifted him onto my shoulder.
The Princeling inclined his head. “You are here in part as a response to the unrest among my people about our new company.”
I raised an eyebrow. It had been clear from the dinner that not every one of the Princeling’s constituents supported his working with humanity, but I wasn’t eager to be a response to any unrest.
He cleared his throat, glanced at the Gray Knight. She didn’t move: She continued to stare at nothing.
“The Queen is plotting an incursion upon my territory,” the Princeling said. “What do you know of Faerie politics?”
“I didn’t know there was a Queen,” I admitted, shifting Doctor Kitten’s weight in my arms. “So probably not much. I thought you were in charge of the whole realm.”
At this, the Gray Knight shot him a look. It was hard to interpret, dark and a little frustrated; did she not want him to share this information with me?
But he continued as though he hadn’t noticed. “There are several rulers in Faerie,” he said. “And our people bind themselves to us only so long as theyfeelloyalty. We protect them, and they support us.”
“Okay,” I said, watching the restless flutter of his iridescent wings. They beat against his chair, trapped between his shoulders and the heavy silver throne.
“My nearest neighbor is the Queen, who rules a cold, cruel Court. She is a monster, with shark teeth and a shark’s heart. If she wins the loyalty of my people, she will not stop: Her incursion will continue through Faerie, and maybe into New York, where they will hunt humans for sport.”
Throughout this little monologue, his wings beat faster and faster, until he’d kicked up a little maelstrom in the room: My hair whipped around my head, and Doctor Kitten burrowed into my arms.
“Hm,” I said, hoping I sounded thoughtful and not unbelievably freaked out.
His wings stopped moving.
“I don’t know how I can be particularly helpful there,” I admitted. “I don’t have any military experience. Have you considered requisitioning a general?”
Clearly already done with my bullshit, the Princeling plowed on.
“We need an example of a human, akin to the ones we might encounter outside, so that my people can become used to you and see that your kind is no threat to ours.”
I ground my teeth. “I’m not going to be a very useful show pony,” I bit out.
The Princeling leaned forward, shoulders tense, like a lion deciding whether to pounce. Belatedly, I realized I now lived in this guy’s realm. Possibly forever. I took a deep breath.
“If you’d just told me what game you were playing, we could have worked together,” I said. “There was no reason to trap me here.”Away from my family, I couldn’t say. Couldn’t remind him they existed, lest he bring them to me.
He tapped his fingers on his chin. “Thisgame, Lady of the True Dreams, is older than your life, and has consequences far broader than your existence. Let us be honest with each other.”
I stared up at him, frustrated with myself more than anyone else in the room. I’d trusted the faeries, because they were pleasant to be around and, though I was loath to admit it, pleasant to look at. And… because I truly wanted to believe they were trustworthy. Faeries were supposed to bebetterthan humans—or at least worse in more interesting ways—not play the same stupid games as us.
“Honestly? I want to go home.”
Doctor Kitten must have smelled my brains steaming with rage, and stuck his nose in my ear to investigate. I pulled him away, never taking my eyes off the Princeling.
The Princeling sat up, impassive. “This is home for you now, my lady. As your lord, I will give you a task in our lands. You will teach my people about your people, and in this way prepare them to enter the mortal realm safely.” He paused, considering. “More safely than the vampires did, at least.”
I opened my mouth.
