Caleb sucked in a breath. “Yes, you would have the power to heal your brother.”
I nodded. “But this investiture thing—it makes me queen?”
“It does,” Mickey said.
“Can a queen do whatever she wants?”
Maeve cleared her throat. “Not whatever she wants. There are certain expectations—”
Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yes, expectations, but nothing that actually binds her. So yes, the queen has done whatever she’s wanted.”
Maeves expression soured, but she didn’t disagree.
Perfect. I’d just become the queen, get awesome fae powers, heal Caleb, and then… Well, I’d figure that out later. Maybe Caleb would come live here.
“Alright then,” I said, looking down at my bowl of cereal to hide my grin. “So when does this investiture thing happen?”
“In about two weeks,” Mickey said.
Two weeks, two weeks. Something else was happening in two weeks.
“You’ve known about it all along,” Mickey continued. “We just called it Homecoming instead since we figured a fae raised among humans would go along with that better.”
My jaw dropped.
“And no one thought it would be a good idea to tell me about it before it happened?”
Mickey shrugged, peeling the apple slices.
“We figured at that point, explanations would no longer be necessary,” Maeve said.
“How does that make sense? I’m sure I’d have had a ton of questions after a rigged homecoming queen vote that ended up making me into the queen of a fae kingdom. Lots of questions.”
Maeve shrugged. “The knowledge we’re giving you right now would have distilled upon you as a natural part of the investiture.”
“I’d just know?” I asked, disbelief coating my words.
Maeve nodded, releasing my hand as she eyed my bowl. “Kella, please hurry or you’ll be late for school.”
“Late for school? You just told me I’m the next fae queen and that I’ve got no magic so people are gonna walk all over me. Wait…” Something clicked. “O’Faolain. Was he using magic that first day of school?”
“Yes, but I set him straight,” Mickey said with a self-satisfied smirk.
“But why would he try to seem—”
Maeve smiled. “He was attempting to win your favor.”
“By making me act like a lovesick idiot?”
Mickey looked much less amused than Maeve. “He was hoping you’d pick him for consort. The heir gets to pick her consort before she becomes queen—even if her pick manipulated her into thinking she loved him.”
Mortification raced through my veins, flushing my cheeks. “What? I have to choose a consort? That’s…” Words failed me. I stood there with my mouth open. And then, “That’s what everyone at school’s been talking about? Please tell me no one thinks I’d choose O’Faolain.That’s just gross! How old is he, anyway?”
“Age doesn’t matter in this process,” was Maeve’s bland reply.
“Debatable,” murmured Mickey.
Maeve gave him a pointed look. “It’s legal.”
Mickey scowled. “Technically. Most fae her age have learned basic charm defense. He knew she wouldn’t have any training, and he took advantage of that,” he said, his jaw clenching. “And once O’Faolain’s hears that she doesn’t have a trace of magic, I’ll need to glue myself to her side. He wouldn’t think twice about entrancing her.”
My eyes widened in alarm. “You mean he’ll, like, do that soulmatey thing again?”
“Worse,” Mickey said darkly.
Maeve sighed. “Well, then I suppose it’s a good thing that the council deemed it prudent to keep her lack of magic secret.”
“It won’t last,” he said.
Maeve scooped up the last of her white breakfast mash. “Well, it should at least buy another day or two before word gets out.” She shook her head. “We really need to stop the leak on the council.”
Mickey bit out a laugh. “Good luck with that.”
Maeve pursed her lips, opening her mouth to say something more, but I blurted out my question before she had a chance.
“I thought magic didn’t work on me since I have none. Why did his?”
Mickey nodded in acknowledgment. “Healing another person requires quite a bit of power as well as numerous years of study, so most fae won’t do it outright. Instead, they’ll use their magic in a way that acts as a guide for another fae’s magic or they’ll buy a pre-made working—like the cream I tried to use on you. Guiding magic involves less power, but it requires time and precision to work and the recipient needs to be a fae with enough power to act on the magical guidance given.”
I nodded. That made sense.
“Now if a fae isn’t worried about depleting their magic,” Mickey continued, “then they can use a direct magic working on the magical and nonmagical alike. It requires more energy, but less time and finesse. That answer your questions?”
“Not really. What about—”
Mickey cleared his throat, shooting me a warning glance. I rolled my eyes. I remembered our deal—I wasn’t going to ask anything that would make Maeve suspicious. And if Mickey just trusted me a little more, he’d see that.
“Last question,” I said to Maeve. “Why am I living with you two? I get that you’re on the council, and it makes sense that they’d want a council member to be my ‘foster mom’ to, like, protect me and all that, but Mickey? What about him?” I glanced over at him.
Maeve paused for several seconds. I didn’t like it when people paused before they answered. It made me think that they were about to lie. Then again, fae couldn’t lie—but they could certainly mislead.
“The council decided that Mickey’s presence would be helpful to maintain order.” Maeve said finally.
“Maintain order?” I examined my scrawny foster brother. “How?”
Mickey said, “The queen’s council doesn’t represent all the different factions within the Seelie court. The council thinks that me being here will have a calming effect on certain parties.”
“So, you’re like an honorary council member?”
Maeve’s face pinched. “His role is purely advisory,” she said before shifting topics. “Mickey, now that I’ve briefed the council on Kella’s lack of magic, it would be best to ensure you’re around her at all times. We do not wish to leave Kella unprotected for one second after this information gets
