Page 38 of A Fae in Finance
“You don’t want to get fired, do you?” And then Red Matt opened his hand, the still-red stub of Blue Corey’s cigarette pinched between his thumb and forefinger, and brought the hot end down on Sahir’s wrist.
“And what is stopping you from going anyway?” Though he didn’t wince, Sahir finally pulled away from Blue Corey, who hadn’t let go of the suit, and the Crone imitated a ripping sound. Sahir held his arm out straight—showing the audience the tear in his suit?
“We could give you our word,” Blue Corey said.
“The word of a mortal means nothing. You treat with me and burn my flesh in one breath.”
Blue Corey stared at Sahir. “Please.”
Sahir sighed. “I give you my word that I will do my best to keep her alive.”
“Healthy,” Blue Corey corrected. “Keep her healthy, not just alive. And swear on your life.”
“Why would I do that?” Sahir snapped.
“Please,” Blue Corey said again. He sounded genuinely devastated. I stared at the foreign face of the faerie, trying to imagine my colleague, who had never been anything but simply fine to me before, assuming that expression.
Sahir straightened, his jaw tight. I watched the muscle work there, the bob in his neck when he swallowed.
“Fine, if it means you will cease to accost me.” He put his shoulders back, haughty, and brought both hands together in a long twisting gesture, an impossible sweep like a tangle of vines off a trellis. “I shall keep Miriam healthy, to the best of my ability, and protect her from foreseeable harm, until she dies of natural causes. I shall be her sword in conflict and her pen in peace, and I swear this on my own existence; may it not continue if I fail her.”
There was a low hum of noise around the room, a startled incessant mumble.
Even I could tell this was more than he’d needed to do.
The image cracked again, and fractured into flakes and webs and shards, and clattered onto the floor. After the false cold light of the New York afternoon faded, the muted glow of the darting creatures by the ceiling and the flicker of torches on the walls felt gloomy and dull. The Crone sagged between the Red Knight and the Blue Knight, her head lolling.
Before the voices around us crescendoed, the Princeling spoke. “Odd,” he mused. “The humans showed bravery and loyalty.” He looked out among the crowd. “Did any of you know them to do thusly?”
Laying it on thick, buddy, I thought.
More silence.
I glanced from the Princeling to Sahir, expecting some sort of punishment.
But the Princeling seemed to have forgotten his anger—or he’d never really been angry. “It is done, then,” he said, nodding once at Sahir. He looked around the room. “I have ridden out today, and visited my people on the river reaches. My Red Knight has letters and news, from those who wished to share messages.”
The Princeling swept forward, the others behind him like a flock. Still in disbelief at seeing my coworkers actually worried about me, I tried to reset my brain with something else. My eyes landed on the Princeling’s legs; his leggings hugged his calves.I bet that guy can ride a horse, I thought, because I grew up with internet access and Regency romance fan fiction. I followed his legs up to his muscular thighs and the edge of his tunic. Maybe faeries chose their rulers based on who could throw a log the farthest. He definitely had the thighs for it. And oh my god, my brain needed a muzzle. I looked away as he passed me.
The Gray Knight, who had caught me looking, smirked.
As the Princeling passed each table, faces turned to follow him. The Red Knight left the group and stationed himself by the door, a stack of papers in his hand. A few of the faeries at the near tables stood up and made their way toward him.
The Princeling’s retinue approached the buffet counter, and Sahir came up beside me.
“What—” I started, but he took my wrist and squeezed in a way not conducive to my health.
I yipped. He stared at my face with such intensity I almost thought I could read his mind.Later, his eyes said. OrI want soup. I couldn’t entirely tell.
Though I was tempted to ask anyway—it couldn’t getmoredangerous for me, right?—I held off. Instead, I jerked my head toward the food. His fingers loosened on my wrist, a bracelet instead of a manacle. We walked together to the buffet.
This time, the first faerie gave me a plate of stew over a ruffled brown grain that might have been rice, if I squinted. The second pushed a bisected bowl toward me: half roasted vegetables, half salad. And the third, grinning with those blue eyes like lamps in his golden face, plopped a slice of cake as big as my forearm onto my tray. I stared at him. He stared at me.
“Lady,” he said, in what sounded like a southern brogue.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Do not thank people,” Sahir snapped, and led me to a table full of strangers.
