Hail to the Queen (Witch For Hire 2)

Perhaps I should bite my tongue, but being meek won’t win me any points with this lot, and I have to stand up for my stations. “She is right here, and sufficiently trained to rub shoulders with royalty like those who are now before me.”

“Oh, this one will be amusing,” a tall Faerie with long, black hair, and golden-eyes all but purrs. His voice is reminiscent of Alan Rickman in the role of Severus Snape.

“Artagan. Always a troublemaker,” Sebile says with a laugh. The woman beside Artagan has wild chestnut curls, olive skin and high cheekbones, and full red lips that stand out in her heart-shaped face. The same startling gold eyes are full of amusement and kindness. It’s not what I expected from any of them.

“It’s been so long since we’ve had proper visitors. Can you blame us for being excited?” Her voice is a soft as the velvet of my dress, and full of warmth and mischief.

“Morag, taking up for your troublemaking mate again, I see? I should stop expecting better from you, sister.”

“Bitter because the Fall Court likes to have fun?” Morag taunts.

I glance at the Faeries. I’d never say it out loud, but they’re two sides of the same coin. They’re darkness at different stages. I can see the family resemblance, but it’s clear they’re twilight and night.

“You forget which court you belong to.”

Morag’s eyes spark, burning a molten gold. “Believe me, sister, I know I’m a member of the Unseelie. You’d do well to remember it doesn’t mean you have to be an utter bitch.”

“Ladies, save the family disagreements for later,” Artagan scolds, stroking his wife’s wild hair.

“Introductions would be most prudent,” a man with a full-bodied voice says. He’s the very definition of a good-looking man. Golden-blond hair ends at his collar, and he has a masculine, square face with a dimpled chin. His light green, almond-shaped eyes are full of disdain.

Sebile’s violet eyes flicker with annoyance.

“Louella, meet Tarinde, King of the Spring Court, and his wife, Friesal.” The petite woman with delicate features, grass green eyes, and bee-stung, pale pink lips smiles. She seems like a strong wind could blow her over, but I know better. Her white-blonde hair is baby fine and cascades to her waist in an impressive waterfall of shininess.

“Your Highnesses, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintances.” I curtsy and they

greet me with a small regal bow.

“You’ve already heard from Artagan and Morag, King and Queen of the Fall Court.”

I repeat the motions. “Your Highnesses honor me with your presences and invitation. I thank you.”

Morag chuckles. “Oh, she’s good.”

“You may survive us unscathed,” Artagan says jovially. The muscles at the base of my back tense. Is that a warning or a joke? I sense irritation coming from Sebile. If it’s related to her sister, or the fact that she’s yet to trip me up, I can’t say. I came into this game playing to win. I refuse to fall into the trap of owing a Faerie.

My court presses in close to me. The brush of their psyches against mine brings me comfort. I draw strength from their nearness, keeping the faux smile plastered on my face and my eyes blank.

“King and Queen of the Summer Court, Oighrig and Evander.” Tall and sleek with sky blue eyes, thick, red hair, their sun-kissed skin glows. Oighrig is broad-shouldered and muscular, with hair the color of blood he’s pulled back into a low ponytail. He peers down at me with a curious expression. His wife is willowy with wavy, auburn locks that scream beach hair, and a perfect up-turned nose. They stand out against the most against the wintery environment.

“It’s an honor to be in the presence of the honorable Summer Court.”

They give small nods of acknowledgment.

“Tell us who you’ve brought with you,” Oighrig instructs.

“This is Larkin, Marcellus, Percival, and Ada. They are members of the Cortez Court. Sacha Morel is a member of my witch community.”

“How interesting that you should hold two conflicting roles,” Evande says. “It’s light and darkness.”

I nod my head. “Yes. But we are all creatures with the aptitude for dual qualities, are we not? No one is truly one thing or the other.”

“Fascinating,” Oighrig says. I can feel him press against the barrier of my mind. I keep my walls high.

His eyes widen. I don’t like his interest.

“Tomorrow we will conduct our business. Tonight is for celebration.” Sebile claps her hands. The doors swing open to the dining hall. “Now we dine.”