Of course it was, because fairies never did anything the easy way. There had to be layers of intrigue and dealings and games.
“But there are whispers a Grey is after the Window.” She was frowning at her cookie. Was she actually concerned?
The memory of the tall Grey chilled his blood. A banished fairy, an enchanted mirror, and ripples on the river. He didn’t believe in coincidences, not when the Court was involved.
“And by talking about them you’re feeding them.” He would not be dragged into Court intrigue.
“It can’t be allowed to fall into the Grey’s hands. With it he could get back into Annwyn and cause all kinds of strife.” She looked up at him. “Your father is concerned.”
His father. His fairy father. The man he’d never met and whose sole contribution to his life was to assign Dylis to his protection.
“I said I’ll keep an eye out.” And even though his gut was telling him to run, he knew he would check any mirror that came across his path. The idea of a Grey sneaking into Annwyn and causing trouble didn’t sit well. That there were already ripples was a concern. What was going on?
“You swear?”
Caspian shook his head. He wasn’t going to be drawn into making a deal and agreeing to help.
“You’re no fun.” She kicked the teacup.
Caspian smiled and straightened it up, knowing she wouldn’t really do anything to anger the Brownies. He knew she liked to socialize with them. He’d heard the music late at night when they’d thought he was asleep.
“You need to come to Court. It’s so much more fun than,” she waved her hand around, “this place.”
“And when I fall into step and get caught in the dance? Or if I sip the wine? Taste the food? What then?” He knew. He’d be stuck until the King or his father chose to release him, but the cost would be his soul.
“Fine.” She crossed her arms and turned her back as if she was angry.
Maybe she was. Maybe she’d been asked to convince him to visit Court. Or maybe she was just trying to get her own way. Sometimes she was worse than his ex-wife. Dylis had hated Natalie. She’d never trusted her. He should’ve listened and saved himself the heartache.
Dylis’s back straightened. If she’d been a cat her fur would’ve been standing on end; as it was he could sense the shift in her energy. Caspian followed her line of sight out the kitchen window.
His heart forgot to beat. In his yard was the Grey he’d seen earlier. He tried to act like he was casually looking out of the window, but the Grey raised his hand in greeting.
“He’s seen us,” Dylis whispered.
“Oh yeah, and he knows we’ve seen him.”
“Where did you get that mirror?” She spoke without taking her gaze off the tall fairy.
“Garage sale.”
“The one time you go without me and you come back with a Grey on your tail.” Her teeth remained clenched together.
The Grey vanished as if he’d never been there, and Dylis moved as if freed from a spell.
“I need to see the mirror.”
“It’s not the Window, only enchanted. And if it’s his, he can have it.” Losing the money was nothing compared to what the Grey could take. A banished fairy would do anything to get home, and the soul of a changeling would be a sizeable bargaining chip. If the Grey suspected which fairy was his father, it could be an even bigger problem.
If one enchanted mirror brought a Grey to his house, what kind of trouble would the Window bring? Getting caught up in fairy problems never went well for humans, and he didn’t think it would go much better for changelings. Yet he was already involved. Even if it was as simple as examining every mirror, if the Court wanted to they could force him into a deal to find it or pay the penalty. A Grey could do the same.
“It may not be that simple.”
No, it never was with fairies. “You can look at the mirror. I’ve seen enough of the Court for one day.”
Dylis opened her mouth, but he turned away and she didn’t press the point. Instead she flung the garage door open with more magic than necessary. He flinched as the door handle slammed against the wall and left a dent. The Brownies would fix it, but that wasn’t the point.
With the door open and Dylis unwrapping the mirror, Caspian needed to put some distance between him and the glass. He needed to do something human and mundane. So he went upstairs to work. He needed to tally his hours and send an estimate for his work at Callaway House. As he waited for the laptop to wake up, he could almost hear the tune of the music coming from Annwyn. In his mind he could see the dancers. Their beautiful clothes and unearthly faces. It was unnatural and yet he could feel the lure the same as any fairy. The call to go home.
A shiver raced over his skin and produced a shudder. He was home. He was human; this was where he’d been born and this was where he was staying.
Chapter 4
Lydia lay in bed listening to the perky chatter of the breakfast radio hosts. In another minute or so the daily horoscope would come on. While she didn’t believe in their predictions, imagining the outcome was an interesting start to the day.
“Capricorn, break free of routine and embrace change.”
When was the last date she’d been on? She frowned. Four months, five months? It had started off well enough, but then he’d expected her to spend most evenings with him and she couldn’t. She had work and Gran, and she just didn’t have time to squeeze in a relationship.
Now she was about to inherit a crumbling plantation house, had a mortgage on her apartment, and a job that wouldn’t stretch to pay for repairs. Her fingers scrunched the sheets.
Maybe it was time to sell. She could move to another city. She could travel. She’d stayed because of Gran, but she no longer had that tie. She could do whatever she wanted. She opened her eyes waiting for a sense of freedom or something to jolt her into action. Nothing. She felt as empty as Callaway House. Even when it had just been Gran living there, the old place had lived and breathed. Now it was a shell.
Except Caspian hadn’t seen it that way. He was fascinated even as he tried to remain impartial. He hadn’t asked leading questions about the house and it’s colorful past. He was genuinely interested… and interested in her.
She hadn’t missed his glances. She’d stolen more than a few herself. There was something different about him, but she couldn’t say what. However, she was interested enough to want to find out more. She flipped back the covers and sat up. She had a day at the office to put in before meeting Caspian at Callaway House. The weather forecast came on, another patchy day of undecided spring weather. Dress for summer but add a jacket, and take an umbrella just in case. She reached out to turn off the radio, but the announcer’s next words slammed into her.
Lydia drew in a breath and held it. She’d expected something two weeks ago, been braced for a story then, but when the media hadn’t picked it up she’d relaxed. She rubbed her hand over her face as her eyes stung. She wasn’t going to cry. She’d done enough of that before burying Gran in a small private service—one her mother hadn’t bothered to attend. Some daughter Helen was.
Lydia took a deep breath. She was in public relations. This is what she did for a living. First rule, control the situation.
She needed to come up with a statement that seemed to give the media information but that told them nothing, certainly nothing salacious. She’d been hoping Gran’s death and sorting out the will would happen quickly
