A lithe woman dressed in brown leather pants and a tank top fell in behind them, standing out not just because she wasn’t dressed in formal funerary gray, but by the predatory glint in her eye and her graceful, lanky stride. Recognition dawned on Becka; Vott still had his wolf shifter guards, because this was definitely one of them.
After years of only occasional encounters with fae in the human-dominated city, all eyes besides the shifters surrounding her held the golden tones of the fae-touched. A weight settled across her shoulders like a mantle. Becka drew herself up, squaring her shoulders as a shield against their judicious gazes.
“Thank the winds I noticed your early arrival,” Vott whispered, touching her briefly on the elbow to indicate their direction at the top of the stairs. He ushered them up a set of spiral stairs and into a spacious study located on the eastern corner of the second floor, closing the door behind them.
It’d been so long since she’d been in his private study, Becka had forgotten the unique sense of calm presence within his meditative space. Her father had married into House Rowan but by birth he was House Alder. The Alder had an affinity for air elementals, and it was said the Guild of Whispers could hear prophetic messages upon the wind, from certain birds, even in the rustling of leaves while walking through the forests.
His office hadn’t changed much since the last time she’d stepped foot inside. Multiple chimes, made of metal, wood, shell, and feather, framed the corner windows which he’d seldom closed, allowing in a constant melodious breeze. The chimes quieted down after the door shut, strangely stiller than she remembered them. The flooring had been replaced with fine-grain black sand that crunched ever so slightly under their footsteps. There was no desk, but the walls were lined with bookshelves and there was a quad of plush, faded-green lounges edging the room.
They weren’t invited to sit. The wolf shifter circled the room, appearing to ignore them all. Becka dropped her backpack to the floor next to her bags.
Vott templed his fingers as he stood before them, his grief plain in his pallor and a dragging weight upon his features. “I am deeply dismayed at your appearance and the utter lack of decorum you just displayed.”
Becka gaped, flummoxed at his statement. “Wait, what are you talking about?”
“No, not you, Becka.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Quinn. “I am referring to Enforcer Quinn, whose,” he inhaled sharply as if smelling something rotten in the air, “questionable reputation demands no further introduction.”
Becka stared at Quinn in shock. The Enforcer’s Guild had come into existence shortly after the Great War, in an effort to ‘improve’ human/fae relations and prevent future escalations in conflict. The fae never fully trusted the select few who worked, day in and day out, with humans, investigating their own. And yet, many fae thought of Enforcers as snitches and pawns to the humans.
The fae Enforcers argued that without their presence on the task force that there would be no fair treatment of fae-touched under human laws, and feared humans would accuse and convict the fae without adequate evidence.
Becka’s occasional interactions with Enforcers had mostly been boring and procedural. Periodic checks of her ID on campus, yearly door-to-door census counts, passing in the streets…once they recognized her as an outcast they lost all interest. Becka frowned. The only exception was when she’d run into the Enforcer in the library, and they’d managed to thwart Becka’s scheduled time with the historic records.
Quinn crossed his arms in defiance. The right corner of his mouth raised a fraction, and he rolled his eyes at Vott.
“Your refusal to accept the authority of the Enforcers Guild is noted,” Quinn said to Vott.
Anger clenched her gut. Quinn had played her, and to her chagrin, she’d fallen for his charms. “Enforcer?” Becka asked. Quinn’s expression was guarded to the point of being resigned, and he met her gaze somewhat sheepishly. Surely her ire was no surprise? Now that she’d come under the scrutiny of another Enforcer, Becka wondered if this one would vex her plans too?
She turned to Vott. “I’d assumed Quinn was the escort you sent.”
Her father drew himself up to his full height, nearing an imperious seven feet, a distasteful expression on his face. “I had a shifter en route to transport you here with instructions to arrive after nightfall, so as not to cause a stir to the funerary proceedings. Quinn superseded my plans.”
Becka turned to Quinn. “You told me Vott sent you!”
“You were expecting an escort,” he shrugged, his expression suitably non-contrite for a trickster. “And I was assigned to escort you here. I never claimed to be the one your father sent.”
She’d heard rumors the Enforcers played fast and loose with the truth to accomplish their goals. She’d never spent enough time around one to see for herself before now.
“So this easy transport assignment of yours was from the Enforcer’s Guild?”
Quinn sighed and nodded. He looked so humbled, she almost believed he felt bad about deceiving her.
Vott harrumphed, and the shifter chuckled. “Well, now that you have delivered Becka,” Vott said, “I must ask you to move along to your next assignment. We have family matters to arrange which are none of your concern, and the sooner you are gone, the better.”
Quinn’s brow furrowed, and his demeanor lost all traces of levity. “As much as I respect the House of Whispers and your venerated position as an Elder within it, I am afraid I cannot concede to your wishes.”
Vott glowered, his hands shaking in frustration. Becka couldn’t remember a time she’d seen him so angry. The fae-touched prided themselves on their composure. Vott’s lack of self-control at this moment spoke volumes on the
