I could tell that Evie was impressed by Lochlan’s analysis, as was I.

  “Speak softly and carry a big stick,” Evie interjected.

  “Well said, Evangeline.” It was Lochlan’s turn to look impressed.

  “I wish I could take credit, but it was an American president, Teddy Roosevelt, who said it. So is she the first interview?”

  Lochlan’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “Interview?”

  “Yes,” Evie said. “Mom says we should interview for the position of mentor.”

  Lochlan began shaking his head. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “You could undo a fafgaleon of goodwill if you audition a queen and choose someone else.”

  “I see what you mean. It could be taken badly.”

  Evie snickered. “You think? Remember that time when you were president of the PTA? It was time to endorse a successor, and you changed your mind about who you wanted to name?” I cringed at the unpleasant memory brought about mostly by my own stupidity. “Women don’t take rejection well.”

  “Then plan B would be to go in order according to your top three picks, Lochlan. We’ll talk to Serafina. If she says yes, she wins. If she says no, we talk to Enya, then Ilmr. There’s another reason why Ilmr should be our last resort.”

  “What?” Lochlan and Evie said together.

  “Diarmuid wouldn’t like having Ilmr’s good-looking guards stare at Evie the way they ogled Olivia when they were here.”

  Evie grinned. “You think Diarmuid is the jealous type?”

  “We may never find out. Everybody in the magic worlds may be too afraid of him to express interest in you.” She giggled. “So how do we go about this, Lochlan? Should I ring up Serafina or do you want to open a formal diplomatic channel?”

  “Diplomatic channel. There is an element of secrecy to be applied to such a delicate matter.”

  “What delicate matter?” I asked.

  “Well, you see, the new queen will be new to… everything. There are those who might see that as a reason to dismiss her.”

  “And by that you mean look down on her?”

  “Indeed.”

  Evie barked out a laugh. “I pity the person caught doing that by Diarmuid.”

  “I tend to agree. He’ll not stand for it.”

  “That is true. But all judgment is not open judgment.”

  “He has a point,” I told Evie. “So Lochlan, do you want to arrange a secret meeting between Serafina and me? Or should Evie be included?”

  “I think negotiations should begin between the two of you.”

  “Negotiations, is it? Not my strongest asset.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Magistrate. I suspect that, when it comes to your daughter’s future, you’re prepared to drive a formidable bargain.”

  Wheels in motion to secure a mentor for Evie’s budding superpowers, I spent the afternoon sorting the Imbolc briefs into piles, the first of which contained suits to be taken seriously to the point of thorough reading.

  A young male witch in the Netherlands, which, to my way of thinking, is the ideal place for witches to reside, was accused by the House of Alprupert of turning the canals in and around Amsterdam blood red during the height of the tulip tourism season. Naturally, human tourists were scared away, reflexively invoking Biblical quotations and taking their currency with them. The magic world wouldn’t care except for the fact that spectacular displays of unexplained events, such as this one, never fail to draw the curiosity and attention of human mystery busters. If the magical community could be said to be united about anything at all, it would be that they do not want to attract the curiosity and attention of human mystery busters. The alleged acts of the witch, if true, would mean he was in deep doodoo with other magic-kind and anything the court might decide would surely be less fearsome than what might be expected from vigilantes.

  I had to take that case to find out why he’d want to turn the water red. If speaking in my professional capacity, I would have to add “if he did it”, but I knew it was unlikely the rather rigid Deutschland queen, Femke, would file an action based on unfounded claims.

  I was surprised to find that Diarmuid would be a defendant in the next Court Meet. He was being sued by Keiron, the kelpie king. Keiron wasn’t happy about the way the incident was resolved, meaning that he thought Keaira’s death would be more merciful than being the sea king’s personal ride.

  Huh.

  A Black Annis was reportedly loose in Tuscany and BOBO was seeking a warrant to track her down, capture her, and put her someplace where she was unlikely to cause trouble. That was going to require a trip to my big book.

  A talking chicken was stolen. That I would like to see. The talking chicken, that is.

  A fae hunter had obtained a horn that compels others to do his bidding.

  Then there was a potentially groundbreaking case of a cursed violin that led to a related suit against a delivery service called Charming Carry, regarding the responsibility of delivery services, whether they should be responsible for transporting parcels with harmful content.

  That one was interesting from a purely selfish point of view since I would love to have traceable, enforceable restrictions placed on shipments to the Hallows. On the other hand, if our source was firmly dedicated to anonymity, they might just decide to stop supplying our inventory. Hmmm. Could be a conflict of interest on my part. Never saw that coming.

  If I did believe I was adjudicating a case that presented a conflict of interest, I couldn’t recuse myself because who would take my place? I made a mental note to ask Lochlan about the traditional remedy.

  By dinner I was satisfied with my first pass over the Imbolc lawsuits. I’d fallen into the habit of re-reviewing before the decision was final. I had an internal standard for what complaints were serious, pile one, what were probably temporary temper flairs that didn’t affect anyone other than the parties directly involved (pile two), and then there was pile three, reserved for the outrageous and utterly silly.

  When cases were declined, Lochlan appended a note stating that the plaintiff might file again in half a year’s time if the concern was not resolved by then. Since I hadn’t been magistrate for half a year yet, I couldn’t speak to how well that system was working, but given my recently acquired familiarity with fae hotheadedness, my intuition told me that few, if any, cases would be brought a second time.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN Serafina

  Lochlan worked his court ambassador magic and had a confirmed appointment with Serafina in two days’ time. I was to be admitted to the House of Sforza for a second time and was invited to walk with the queen in her private garden. By the way Lochlan conveyed the news, I gathered this was an honor awarded few people, magical or not, and I had high hopes that she’d consider tutoring my child.

  Evie sat on one of the upholstered benches in my closet. “No. Not that,” she said.

  “Why not? This looks great on me.” I angled my body left and right in the three-way mirror to demonstrate that what I said was true.

  “Because it’s winter here, but it won’t be in the queen’s garden.”

  “Oh. Duh. You’re right. I need something more proper than a sundress, but less formal than a high tea garden party.”

  “Right.” She began rifling through my clothes, but didn’t get far before she said, “This is silly. You don’t have what you need.” She threw her hand out toward me and said, “Here.”

  “What do you mean, here?”

  She chuckled. “Look in the mirror.”

  I did, and almost stumbled back. I wasn’t wearing the indigo cashmere dress I’d put on. I was wearing a persimmon-colored silk dress that tied at the waist and fell to mid-shin. It was sleeveless, but had a tasteful ruffle at each shoulder for just enough interest. Not too much, not too little, just right.

  It fit like a dream tailor had made it for me. And the persimmon fabric? I’d always thought clothes in the red-pink family weren’t great for me, but that dress brought up the color in my cheeks and made me look younger. Somehow.

  “This goes with it.”

  I turned to see that she was handing me a wide-brimmed straw hat dyed the exact same color as the dress and a pair of tan wedgie sandals with ankle straps.

  “Evie.”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “I’m not saying this isn’t the perfect dress, and hat, and shoes, because we both know it is, but um, when did you learn to design custom tailored outfits from thin air?”

  “Yesterday? I guess? I was in Kings Landing in the apartment I picked to sleep in from now until Beltane. I liked almost everything about it.”

  “But not everything?”

  “Right. Yeah. So, I was thinking, ‘If only the main color in the carpet and bed coverings were Venetian blue.’”

  “Let me guess. Then they were.”

  “Yep. I was kinda buzzed about that. Not just that it happened, but that it looked the way I saw it in my head. So, then I changed all the dark wood paneling and window shutters to white. It was so much fun that I kept going and before I knew it, it was as gaudy as the Versace house in Miami. I was standing in the middle of the room laughing about it, and I was about to put it back to its original state and start over. Maybe go wild, but not hog wild. You know?” I nodded. “But before I started, there was a knock at the door.”

  “Let me guess. It was Maeve.”

  Her eyes widened. “How did you know?”

  “Mother’s intuition.”

  “That’s really a thing? Well, she took one look at what I’d done and said, ‘Good gods. What has happened here?’ I don’t know. Something about the way she said it made me feel defensive. So, I dug in and decided I was keeping it like that, like it or not.”

  I sighed. “That’s my Evie. What did she want?”

  “Just to say she’d like to confer about plans for the handfasting early next week. I didn’t tell her I might be taking creatrix lessons from somebody else next week.”

  “That was wise.”

  “Right? Who knows how she’ll take that?”

  “Who knows?” I said drily, knowing full well how Maeve would take it.

  “So I said okay just to put her off.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I’ve become used to out-of-the-ordinary phenomena or you might’ve given me too much of a start for a person my age.”

  She laughed. “Mom. You’re not old. You’re just… middle-aged.” Seeing my face, she said, “I mean that in the best way. This dress looks incredible on you.”

  Looking back at the mirror, I had to admit she was right.

  “Yes. You’re hired as my personal clothing designer.”

  She started shaking her head. “Oh no. This was a one-time thing. I wouldn’t dream of taking the joy of shopping away from you.”

  I finished strapping on the heels and added the hat. “I’m thinking the joy of shopping has just been replaced with feeling like an heiress walking on the promenade at Cannes. Let’s see how it sits.”

  I sat down on the bench, facing her. “You know, I’m also thinking that you’re taking this whole immortality, new reality thing really well.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Too well? Maybe?”

  She glanced away and looked uncertain for the first time. “I don’t know. Some things are good.”

  “Yeah? Some things are not?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What goes in the good column?”

  She cocked her head and smiled when she said, “Diarmuid.”

  “I would’ve been worried if that hadn’t been the first thing on the list. What else?”

  “I can have anything I want.” I nodded. “I can do anything I want.” I nodded again. “Like you said, I’m going to live a long, long time.”

  “You can have a dog,” I offered, adding to the list of good stuff.

  I could swear I saw a burst of auric brightness at that. Her grin couldn’t have been bigger or brighter. “That’s right! More than one if I want. You have two.”

  “I do,” I confirmed.

  “What did you call them?”

  “Fraighounds. I know a breeder.”

  She laughed, understanding the reference because she’d been in the courtroom when the Valkyrie had shown me photos of her most recent litter.

  “I wonder why Diarmuid doesn’t have fraighounds. I know he likes them, and they like him.”

  As if on cue, Fen and Frey came padding into the closet and flopped down between us, where Fen immediately began licking Evie’s toes.

  “I’ll have to ask.” She brightened again. “I could have an Alfa Romeo.”

  “Sure. You could, but why would a person who can move between worlds and ‘beam’ themselves anywhere want an Alfa Romeo?”

  She sighed. “Old dreams still knocking around in my head, I guess.”

  “Well, if you were getting one, what color would it be?”

  I watched the mischievous smile form a nanosecond before she said, “Pink.”

  I cupped my ear with my hand. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?”

  “Thousands of car guys suddenly cried out at the same time.”

  “What’d they say?”

  “Get a rope.” She chuckled. “Want to talk about the not so good?”

  When Evie’s gaze locked with mine, I realized she was struggling with some things. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Every attachment I ever made in my life is over, except for you. And even that…” She looked away. “I mean, my bridesmaids are mermaids I just met because all my old friends are human!”

  There was nothing to do but laugh about that because, well, it was funny.

  “Well, we’re still going to get twice as much time together as we would’ve had. Being magistrate lengthened my life, in theory.” I reached down to rub Frey’s Border Collie tummy. “Of course, I’ll age.”

  “And I won’t.”

  I let that hang in the air for a while before saying, “The thing I’ve learned about beautiful people is that it’s a Trojan Horse. It might seem to be a gift for a brief time, but it always twists into a curse. In the end, most of those people would say it would’ve been better to have never been beautiful than to experience beauty and lose it. You’ll never know that dismay. You’ll always be walking perfection, as you are now.”

  She looked over at the mirror, like she was checking to see if I told the truth. “Extended youth. Guess that goes in the good column.”

  “Yep. Along with no sickness, aches, pains. You know how your Great Aunt Tillie suffers with arthritis in her joints?”

  “I can’t say that I know that in the sense that I can relate,” Evie said. “I know, from what she says, that it’s horrible, but since I’ll never experience it, all I can go on is imagination.”

  “True. You’ll have to rely on your memory of other kinds of hurts to feel empathy.” I moved to the other bench so I could sit next to her and give her a love-pat on her jeans-clad thigh. “When our ancestors immigrated to America, they left behind everything and everyone they’d known.”

  She turned her head and looked at me. “I think they were braver than I am. But you don’t have to go back that far. You pretty much gave up everyone and everything you’d known to start over here.”

  “Not you,” I said. “I’m never gonna give you up. And there’s lots of good news for me. I get to share my bizarre life with you and I never have to worry about you getting skinned knees or getting into car accidents again.”

  “Skinned knees?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “You scoff. But just last year somebody on campus talked you into trying skateboarding. Remember that?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Her sheepishness only lasted for a second. “Hey! I could become a skate demon now! I could conjure a halfpipe…”

  “Sure. You and all the adolescent fae in Kings Landing who are only five hundred years old.”

  “Well. It’s just an idea. The whole creatrix thing. It’s pretty cool.”

  “The coolest. So is being queen.” She looked at me like she was wondering if that was true. “You have a distinct advantage over fairy tale princesses who marry into royal families. Your charming, um, king has given you free rein to shape the office any way you want.”

  With a smile, she said, “Now that is cool.” She grew serious as her smile faded into an expression of concern. “The thing that keeps coming to me is that, if I’d been asked if this is what I want, would I have said yes?”

  “I guess we’ll never know. But you’re alive. And all in all it’s not a bad gig.”

  Her smile returned. “Yeah.”

  Serafina sent an ambassador to escort me to the House of Sforza. I had a few soda crackers and a little ginger ale ahead of time to, hopefully, preemptively stave off nausea. I did feel a slight wave, but it passed quickly.

  This time I was taken directly to Serafina’s private garden without a stop at the endless hallway of doors.

  The garden exceeded any painting of Eden ever rendered. Like everything in Faerie, the colors were enhanced to deeper hues than in the mundane world. The grass was a rich green carpet. The leaves were glossy enough to appear that each had been individually hand waxed.

  Every plant that bore fruit was laden with ripe clusters, perfect in size and shape. Every plant that flowered was in full bloom. It was breathtaking.

  “Magistrate,” she smiled in greeting.

  “Your Highness,” I returned her smile, so glad that I’d had a future queen to dress me. My outfit was perfect. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful place.”

  She looked around, clearly pleased by my compliment. “Thank you. It’s my sanctuary.”

  “I can see why.”

  “I’m brimming with curiosity,” she said. “Let’s walk while you tell me what I can do for you.”

  “Actually, the favor I have to ask is not for me, but for another queen, or rather, queen to be.”

 

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