He didn’t turn around. “My name? I’m surprised you don’t know already, being a stalker and all. And I don’t need the ad anymore. My puny Fae brain has already memorized the words. If you really need a name though,” he said, head swiveling enough to meet my eyes, “call me ScarFae.”
“I hate those stupid Pit monikers,” I muttered, raising my voice to add, “And you’re as pathetic as your dumb nickname.”
I spun in a huff, dropping the slip of paper over my shoulder as I went. Fae prick. If he responded, I didn’t hear him. I had more pressing matters to attend to. Questions I needed answered.
—
I paced the foyer of Mordecai’s mansion, flicking cigarette ashes on the flecked marble floor. My hands were jittery from dealing with the Fae and I knew if Mordecai noticed, he would have my hide.
“No Fae should be able to spook my daughter.”
Adopted daughter. Theoretically the same thing. And I wasn’t spooked, I was infuriated. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been so angry from a handful of sentences. That Fae had me teetering a dangerous line between helper and Enforcer, and I didn’t like the feeling.
“Your father will see you now.” An older gentleman—one I had dubbed Squirrel Butler so long ago the name was ingrained—played doorman to the mansion. Mordecai said his shifter form was harmless, but I wasn’t entirely sure what the doorman actually was. With his mousy face, puff of red-brown hair, and bottomless pocket of sunflower seeds, I had to get creative. He was wiry, thin, and twitchy. Squirrel made sense.
I began the climb to the second story, up an elaborate staircase made from the same marble as the floor below. Mordecai spared no expense on this place. Alec had an entire wing to himself now. I had been offered the same, but I had passed under the pretense that I needed more quiet to sleep during the day. Mordecai agreed, and paid the expense for my penthouse, but only so long as I remained on as an Enforcer. The last bit was formality; I didn’t actually have a choice in the matter.
His office was down a long hallway, carpeted in black velvet and scattered with silver light fixtures; the same thematic colors he used downstairs and in all the public rooms of the mansion. Mordecai had decked his own suites in green and silver, Alec choosing red and gold. Both had massive balconies attached to their private chambers, larger even than mine. Dragon shifters took up more space, they claimed. I scoffed. Alec’s “mighty” dragon was puny next to my lion.
Mordecai’s huge office door was dark, solid kingwood, engraved with a dragon curled around a shard of crystal. His signet. I twisted the silver handle and shoved, groaning at the weight.
My eyes fell first to the walls and the beautiful bookcases that circled the room. Mordecai’s desk sat in the center on a garish, woven rug. He was tapping away at his laptop when I entered, but he paused to look up expectantly. I dipped to one knee.
“In loyalty and service to the Great Dragon.” I lowered my head.
Mordecai snapped his fingers and I stood. “Sit. I’ll only be a moment.”
I did, lounging in the chair in front of his desk. Resting might have been a mistake. The moment my feet left the ground, my eyelids began to droop, my mind slowing. I straightened, planting my boots firmly on the floor.
“Father, can I ask you about a flier I saw at Smithfield Press this afternoon?”
Mordecai’s eyes flicked up. He and Alec shared that icy blue color, though his were a tad lighter than his son’s. They even had similar hairstyles, though Mordecai’s was noticeably shorter, black, and peppered with gray. A long scar stretched from the left corner of his mouth to his jaw. I didn’t know where the mark had come from—one of the stories he swore he would never tell. From what I knew of wounds, I could only guess that someone had sliced his mouth wide open.
“What did you see at the press, my darling?”
I balked at the strange pet name, so easy to mistake for real affection. Mordecai had never been shy about his terms of endearment; always the doting father until he needed to punish me. I didn’t fall for the act anymore, not often anyway. Alec and I had grown up the same, with every comfort and privilege, but having seen the sheer brutality they dealt innocent Fae for small things like stealing food, I couldn’t bring myself to share their ideals.
I swallowed. “I saw that you’re opening a new position to Fae employees? I was curious as to what, and why? You’ve always shown so much favor to the shifters—if you have this many new jobs, shouldn’t they be approached too?”
He probably wants to repress the Fae a bit more, I thought bitterly.
Mordecai leaned back, his wooden chair groaning at the weight change as he steepled his fingertips. The three silver bands in each of his ears clicked together. He slowly nodded. “I think we should try to repair a bit of the damage that’s been done. Allow the Fae to take better-paying positions if they’re up to the task. Mend fences, if you will.”
“But why? And why now?”
“I have mines in need of workers. The Fae have workers in need of jobs. I thought you of all people would appreciate a move toward bettering Fae livelihoods.” His tone was a challenge, daring me to defend the Fae. Asking for a reason to reprimand me, or worse.
“Yes, well, we both know you keep the Fae in the city to
