Page 13 of A Court of Fire and Frost

Me: Don’t tell me the twins are already swimming independently.

Me: I had no idea Ian and Giselle were so big.

I send the text, intending to scroll through and check the rest of my messages, when my phone chimes immediately.

Helena: They are. We’re visiting the seals today.

Helena: I’m definitely winning the ‘cool-aunt’ trophy of the year.

Before I can reply, my phone chimes once more.

Helena: Heading out into the sea, hugs.

I flip the camera and send Helena a selfie of myself waving before sighing and scrolling through the rest of my messages. They’re all from my boss, a variation on the theme of “get your ass in here now” and “I don’t pay you so much to relax.”

Sighing, I send him a passive-aggressive thumbs up before tossing off my towel and pulling on my favorite pair of black leggings and a cozy taupe sweater. The fabric is warm, and I run an appreciative finger over the hem of the oversized sweater.

Human fashion has certainly evolved over the decades. This might be my favorite style yet.

Grabbing one last chocolate chip cooking, I toss my phone in my pocket and lock the door before heading to the window. Flinging it open, I relish the feel of the cold wind on my cheeks as I stand, taking in the beauty of the night.

A clawing begins deep in my chest as my animal seeks freedom. She’s always been eager to get out and soar through the nights. Breathing in deeply, I summon her before leaping out of the window. I relinquish control over my body, allowing my snowy owl to take shape. The wind blows underneath my wings, holding me tight in its grasp.

The feeling of freedom overwhelms me as I soar through the city.

* * *

Three hours later,I’m regretting that last cookie. My hands are on my hips as I stand in the cramped warehouse, staring at the blueprint my boss laid out before me. Running my tongue over my teeth, I wish I had taken the time to brush them before flying out. By the sounds of it, I won’t be coming back for at least a day.

“Tell me once more why we’re doing this?” I run a finger over the blueprints of the two-story home. By all appearances, it’s a regular dwelling. Not exactly my usual job.

My boss glares at me, his eyes sharp despite the late hour. “Because we’re being paid to do this. Money is money.” He spits, a disgusting glob of saliva landing on the grimy floor in a glob. My insides shudder in revulsion.

Gods. Humans are the worst.

“What’s my cut?” I don’t even lift my eyes from the paper, committing it to memory.

My employer rattles off a number, and I whistle.

“Exactly.” The grin is evident in the human’s voice. “Besides, we’re bounty hunters, not the morality police.”

Morality police.

As if. Human ideas of morals are far different from Fae ones. This human and I have a tenuous working relationship, at best. Mostly, I ignore his ridiculous antics, finding the rowan berries he sews into his clothing amusing. Once, I saw him stuffing salt into his pockets. As if those could ever stop me.

They might work on lesser Fae, like the dirtbag from a few weeks ago, but not me. Very little in this world can stop a Fae like me.

When the human hired me, I made it clear. No questions about my past. All he knows is that I come from the Northern Courts, and I’m a powerful Fae who happens to be good at killing. Sometimes I catch him side-eying me as if he thinks I will glamor him or something.

He’s wrong. If I am going to kill him, it won’t be using magic.

No, if I am going to glamor someone, it will be someone far more interesting than a middle-aged human with a beer belly who thinks he’s some sort of god just because he can hold a gun and not shoot himself in the face with it.

Idiot.

“Fine,” I spit out, swiping the blueprints and tucking them under my arm. “What do you want me to do with the target once I have him?”

“Take him to the usual spot,” he replies.

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