After the weirdness of handling the Cormier situation, life resumed normalcy. I was still unnaturally tired, still engaged, and still not getting any loving.
What passed for normalcy in my life was overrated.
The work part, at least, was a welcome lull. This was an annual tradition. I tended to think of it as the pre-holiday calm. By January, it would be hectic. Mid-Winter was always when I had the most downtime, but during the end of year holiday people would start deciding death was overrated and hunting down draugr for a shot at eternal life on Earth instead of natural deaths. I wasn’t sure if it was depression, greed, or sentimental holiday moods.
Mine was an odd job, but I didn’t ever want to give it up. I wasn’t immune to draugr venom, but I was stronger than humans and could flow as fast as the draugr could. I had advantages, and I felt duty-bound to make use of them.
Tonight, I was enjoying a night out with my closest friends. Draugr weren’t all trapped by sunlight, but the newly-infected, bite-first-think-never ones were. I tended to think that was a good excuse to stay in the bar until dawn’s light.
“Yule? Chanukah? Christmas?” Sera was holding up pictures of formal dresses. “Did you discuss it? Which are you celebrating in Elphame? I know Mama Lauren has usually had dibs on Chanukah. Do we call one? Or do we wait on Eli?”
Jesse and Christy said nothing. They exchange a look that spoke volumes. No one expected my first holiday season as the future queen of Elphame to go smoothly.
Running away to Elphame as if I could be fae wasn’t an option for more reasons than just my issues with Eli—which was why I was livid when I received a beautiful handwritten summons to celebrate “the holiday” with the king of the faeries. Eli’s uncle seemed to think there was one holiday. As a Jewish witch with Christian friends, I could guarantee that there were at least three of them on my social schedule.
The four of us were enjoying a night off at Eli’s bar, the oddly named Bill’s Tavern. No one called Bill had ever owned or been employed here, but whenever I asked “who is Bill,” Eli simply laughed.
Fae humor confused me sometimes.
I still had my weapons, but that was like saying I still had on trousers. It would be weird and uncomfortable to go out for the night without them. One sword, two guns, and a dagger if I needed to draw my blood. It might seem odd, but my blood was my best weapon. One loyal army of the dead trumped most conventional weapons.
Christy, whose job was mostly pool-hustling—often here—wasn’t working tonight either. She and Jesse were sort of hand holding, but not being all couple-y in an obnoxious way. Sera was scheduling our lives. It was her thing. One of them, at least. She was why we were out tonight, too. She was our glue.
“I have received a summons from the king,” I said.
“You’ll need another dress,” Sera said, as if dresses were the priority not the fact that some old dude had summoned me like I was his subject.
“That’s what you got out of this?” I met Sera’s gaze.
“Maybe we should get a couple of them.”
“Or not,” Jesse muttered.
“She cannot go before the king of Elphame in jeans.” Sera gave us all a look, one that meant she was debating smacking one of us upside our heads. “Which holiday did he invite you for?”
“The holiday, as if there is only one.” I was starting a list of grievances against the faery king—starting with the fact that he insisted on referring to me as “death” or “death maiden” and rolling right up to the moment. Honestly, the only thing I liked about him was his nephew, Eli.
Sera sighed.
In a game of chess, she’d be the king—maybe the queen. It varied. Christy was a bishop, influential and strong. She was impervious to Sera’s quelling look and spoke her mind. Jesse was the Rook, the castle. He was home. Steady in whatever way we needed. And I was either a knight or a pawn, depending on the moment. I’d like to be a knight, but lately I felt like I was being played.
I just couldn’t decide whether the player was someone I knew already or not.
I looked up and met Eli’s gaze. If you asked him, he’d claim that he wasn’t on the chess board at all. I had trouble believing that a faery prince was so innocent—and Eli was the faery prince, as a matter of fact. He failed to share that tidbit with me at first. Right up to the point where he’d spirited me away to his homeland to save my life, I thought he was just a guy: a very hot, infuriating, loyal, fae guy. So, maybe I was still pissy over the whole my friend is an exiled faery prince thing.
Now that we were accidentally engaged because of it, I was starting to think that he was the hand in the sky. Was Eli the chess player toying with my life? Had he always planned to trap me?
But based on the way my life had gone of late, he was far from the only one moving pieces. His uncle, the king I might have to wear a dress to meet again, and the dead lady I thought might be an ancestor or mine . . . and some unknown figure who hired a human to murder me a few months ago. The shooting at Cormier’s raising was weird, too. The police had no answers, and all three of the men were suddenly dead. Too many people were trying to play with my life, and I was fed up.
I couldn’t do anything about that murder-attempts thing, but I could handle the holidays. I was still me: half-witch, half-draugr. I wasn’t a fae princess, no matter what the King of Elphame thought, and I wasn’t pleased to be summoned as if his laws applied to me.
“Which holiday do you want us to celebrate?” I asked my friends. “Cocktails. Friends. Maybe we can do a formal meal. You want dresses, Sera? Fuck it. We do dresses.”
Jesse and Christy both looked at me like I’d suggested we knock over a bank or gnaw on a witch’s house.
“Gen, you can’t just ignore the king,” Jesse said. “You’re engaged to—”
“Not on purpose! For an honorary brother, you’re awfully calm. Eli is trying to marry me. Besmirch me.” My voice was loud enough that several people looked our way.
“You like besmirching,” Jesse said. Then he met my gaze and added, “And you’re obviously not besmirched yet because you’re surlier than usual lately.”
I shot a glare at Eli. It took effort to glare at him, though. Logic meant I was still angry that he wouldn’t free me from our engagement, but logic was a weak defense against him. I wanted Eli the way witches crave nature, the way the starving crave food.
And I was in definite need of being besmirched, preferably by Eli. Repeatedly. I’d been ready to ignore the risk to our friendship, tired of resisting our chemistry, over all of the very sound reasons not to lock the doors and get gloriously naked with Eli.
But then someone tried to kill me.
And Eli had to save me.
And in the mess that followed we ended up accidentally betrothed—which meant no sex for me. Fae rules of love and matrimony meant that if I banged him while we experienced true love, we were de facto married.
“Both holidays,” I said, louder than necessary. “We’ll celebrate twice. Fuck him.”
“Oh, I do wish you would,” Sera muttered.
Christy snorted.
Sera squeezed my hand fondly. “Eli is not without his charms. You’re engaged—and please don’t take this wrong, sweetie—but you need to burn up some sheets or something. You’re on edge.”
“Understatement,” Jesse said with a shrug.
When I made a crude gesture at my friends, Sera held up her hands. “Fine. Eli is hotter than Satan’s knickers are in the summer, and Geneviève is as tense as a kitten in a room of rocking chairs and Rottweilers.” She took a long drink of her bourbon, and then she added, “The point, Gen, is that you like him, and he obviously loves you. Why not give it a go?”
Sera pursed her lips at me when I tried to interrupt.
“And he was willing to do whatever it took to keep you safe,” she continued. “For the fae, that’s a lot. So, go to dinner with the king, and try to be a little kinder to Eli. His greatest crime—as far as I can see—is that he wants you.”
My temper fizzled. She was right. Hell, they all were. I wanted to give in to Eli, but he needed to have a child. That child had to be carried by his wife, or his line of the fae would wither. He—literally—carried his ancestral memory in his blood. A child of the blood was required to pass on the living memory of his family.
He had to have a kid.
And I would never ever be a mother. Some people just weren’t meant to be parents, and that should be okay. Freedom of choice ought to mean freedom to choose not to breed.
Eli, however, had to have a kid. There wasn’t really a compromise there.
It wasn’t even that fae law was unreasonable. There were exemption options for infertility or if a person was gay or lesbian—or if they had a sibling who was able to pass on the family memories. Elphame Law addressed most concerns. There were even Temple partners who were magical enough to have multiple children. That enabled the exceptional cases—gay, lesbian, or second children—to pass on their genes.
Eli was neither gay nor a second son.
I’d be asking Eli to sacrifice his ancestors if he was with me. I wouldn’t do that to anyone I liked even a little, much less someone I trusted and respected as I did with him.
“It’s complicated,” I said quietly.
I didn’t have consent to share the fae secret of ancestry. I couldn’t explain why I was refusing him. And no one quite understood my aversion to parenthood. It wasn’t just that I didn’t want to pass on my fucked up genetic soup. That was a huge factor, but when Eli explained how we could avoid that . . . I still didn’t want to be a parent. I wanted my life. My mission in my city. I liked what I had.
The only thing I’d change was . . . adding Eli.
He’d always been the flame that drew me. His glamour hadn’t ever worked on me—either because of my witch blood or maybe my other blood. I wasn’t sure what he looked like to others, but he’d always been perfect to me.
If not for the whole royal requirement and duty to pass on his ancestral lineage, I’d be naked with him by now.
Without quite meaning to, I looked over and met his gaze again, and this time, he walked over to the table. I guess a guy could only ignore being stared at so long.
“Christy. Sera. Jesse.” He nodded at each of my friends. Then he looked at me. “Geneviève.”
My insides turned to mush, and I realized I was still staring at him. It had been forty-three days since I’d thought we could be together. Forty-three days that we had been engaged. Two weeks since the last job together when we kissed and sparred. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t even pretend to want anyone else. I’d never been monogamous, but something about Eli had me embracing monogamy—without the sex that should go with it. It was baffling.
I licked my lips unconsciously, and then blushed at his responding smile.
“What?”
“I said ‘Would you accompany me?’” he asked, eyes twinkling as if he was aware that I’d completely failed to hear him the first time. He added, “To meet Lady Beatrice.”
“Beatrice?” I echoed.
Eli nodded. “Indeed.”
I had been avoiding the draugr queen since she’s saved my life. I was being ungrateful, but I had complicated feelings. I was, awkwardly, related to her, and as best as I understood, she was my maternal ancestor—but she was a draugr. My job was killing her kind. So, yeah, it was complicated. “I’m not sure I—”
“She has requested my presence, and I am unable to visit her alone.”
I startled. Eli was the strongest person I knew—other than Beatrice—and they had no discord. She knew who he was and had no desire to start a war with the fae. And while Eli had no great love for her, they’d spoken almost cordially.
“It would be inappropriate to see her without you with me. A fae who has pledged devotion must not meet unchaperoned with anyone sexually mature.” His voice was level; he always had the same calm tone when I was panicking or about to lose my temper.
“Like you can’t see her because you might be overcome and marry her instead?” I stopped short of saying that would be fine. It wasn’t—and everyone who knew me knew it. I might not be interested in making his babies, or a future in Elphame, but I was exceedingly interested in Eli.
“Geneviève—”
“Monkey balls. This is that whole faux engagement that—”
“Not faux,” Eli interjected. “My hand is already yours, sugar cookie.” He gave me the sort of look that could melt knickers. “This was a formal invitation, Geneviève, which means I cannot visit her without accompaniment of my intended, a relative, or a male friend.”
“I can go, Gen,” Jesse offered.
Eli smiled. “Your offer of friendship is cherished.”
“Faeries are weird,” Christy said when Jesse’s mouth gaped open—presumably at the realization that he’d called Eli a friend. They’d been at odds before my almost-dying-thing.
At that Eli bowed his head to her and to Sera and added, “It means much to have your regard.”
Christy toasted him. They had a strange dynamic. Their friendship was natural, equal regard but not sexual tension. Sometimes I envied them.
Sera opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, I blurted, “Let’s go, Eli.”
We said our goodbyes, and I walked away with Eli. In some ways it was less awkward than trying to talk to him and my friends. They had turned to his side when he saved my life, risked his freedom to do so, and now, I was left with no defense other than “I don’t want to.” It was weak—because I couldn’t spill his secrets and because they were a lot more accepting of my draugr heritage than I was.
We made it halfway to the bar door before I told him, “Your uncle sent an invitation.”
“I know. He has commissioned six gowns so far in hopes that one will please you.” Eli had the carefully calm tone again.
“Six gowns?”
“Did the invitation mention the presentation of the future queen?” He tucked my hand into the fold of his arm. “It’s traditional.”
I stopped walking. “Presenting the future qu— . . . you mean me? The event is about presenting me?”
Eli nudged me forward. “I suggested he order you a sword or three to assuage your ill mood in his direction. Not that I’ll give him all the answers, Geneviève, but in this case, I thought weapons might interest you more than gowns. The armory has been working on several pieces.”
“Flaming monkey balls.”
“Geneviève, there are laws. You are my intended. I cannot change that,” he said, again.
I glanced back at my friends. I was to be out tonight enjoying life. Not off to see a draugr queen or navigate Yule plans with the fae king. I mouthed, “Help?”
Sera gave me an encouraging gesture, and Jesse smiled.
Christy mouthed back, “Get some.”
“I do like Christy.” Eli chuckled at seeing her. “Smart woman. Wise. Perhaps you should listen to her advice.”
“If only it were that easy.” I leaned in and kissed him quickly, just a butterfly brush of lips. “There ought to be perks to this clusterfuck, and you naked under me sounds like an excellent idea.”
“Indeed, bonbon.” He growled a little.
I shivered at the desire that little noise sparked.
Smiling, Eli open the door for me. “What do you say to a faery bargain, Geneviève Crowe?”
The last faery bargain was for a kiss, and that had led to this engagement. Was I fool enough to make a bargain with Eli? When he stepped outside, his hand pressed against my low back, and my fracturing resolve grew even weaker.
“What are your terms?” I was pretty sure that Eve had felt this same flutter in a long-ago garden.
“Ones that include pleasure.”
“Tell me more,” I encouraged.
He smiled. There were a million sins in that look, and I wanted to commit every one of them twice.