House Rowan hosted the annual regional trade delegation, which drew emissaries from not only all the nearby houses but even ones from farther-flung territories. The group wasn’t as large or diverse as those who had shown up for Tesse’s wedding and then stayed for her subsequent funeral. Those few months ago, none of the houses had wanted to miss the grand affair of the heir of House Rowan’s nuptials. Now, the attendees were bent on more pedestrian matters.
Maura had been busy the past couple of weeks preparing to receive the delegations. House Rowan had made space for all the attendees at the manor, as most planned to stay a few days. After losing Tesse, Maura’s concern had turned to strengthening Rowan’s relationships with the other houses. She’d confided to Becka that, with the Shadow-Dwellers being a menace, they needed all the allies they could muster for the days ahead.
The Great Hall was full enough that Becka had to thread her way carefully through the crowd, heading for Vott at the far end of the hall. The last thing she wanted was to run into someone, and their magic, sparking another round of headaches for herself.
A tall, imposing man with deep creases around his eyes moved into her path, and Becka rocked back on her heels, eager to avoid running into him.
“Lady Becka,” he intoned, bowing his head for a moment. “‘Tis an honor to see you again.”
Becka pursed her lips. Who was he again? “Oh, Elder Berkeley of… House Birch.” She remembered him from those who attended her sister’s funeral. “It’s nice to see you again too.”
He gave her another quick incline of his head, assuring her she’d gotten his name right. “This is a more fortuitous time for an introduction. How have you found your return to House Rowan?” The glint in his eyes was filled with rapt interest.
Is he being sarcastic? Becka doubted it, but at the speed of fae gossip, no doubt most had heard things hadn’t gone smoothly. “The past three months have been a challenge, but I’m sure life at the manor will get easier over time.”
“Oh, has it been that long now?” His brows rose, although surely, he could count the time that had passed as well as she could. “I suppose I will receive an invitation to your upcoming nuptials any day now?”
Oh, hells no, not if I can help it!
Becka’s breath hitched in the back of her throat, while she searched for the right words. “You’re always welcome at House Rowan’s festivities.”
“Hmm,” he replied, but he didn’t call her out for dodging the question. “I assume the duchess will be sending you to us for fertility treatments?”
Becka recalled Berkeley’s generous offer of fertility treatments to Maura for her house, but the thought of using one herself gave her a shudder.
“Oh no, I’m not getting knocked up!” Becka blurted out a little too loud.
There were a few raised brows around her. It was as if she could see others’ pointed ears twitch toward their conversation.
“Knocked up?” he asked. “Whatever do you mean?”
Becka pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. She kept forgetting the fae-touched lacked the vernacular she’d become accustomed to in the city. “I meant to say I’m not planning on having children anytime soon.”
Berkeley’s eyes lit with understanding and his smile turned poisonous. “Ah, some city-speak, I suspect. How… quaint and colloquial.”
Irritated over his condescending tone, Becka searched for a reasonable response. “I lived there for the last third of my life.”
“As you say,” he replied. “But why would you not wish to contribute to the lineage of your family as soon as possible?”
Becka didn’t even know where to begin, but, remembering her promise to Vott and Maura, she held her tongue.
“I’m sure it will work itself out in time,” she replied, holding to an enigmatic and thus fae-approved response.
He smiled and inclined his head. “You are welcome at House Birch whenever you are ready.” His gaze shifted to the two shifters behind her and then back to Becka, confusion knitting his brow. “Pardon, but why are Vott’s shifter guards with you?”
Grateful for the change in conversation, Becka smiled. This was an easy explanation. “He assigned them to me after the Shadow-Dweller attack.”
Having uttered the words, Becka didn’t miss how the rhythm of conversation around her hiccupped when the phrase Shadow-Dweller left her lips.
“How curious,” Berkeley replied. “I admit I find the shifters’ presence most unsettling. It’s so rare to see them within fae territory. Unless they are working with the enforcers, of course.” His frown spoke volumes.
You know the shifters can hear you, right?
A short for-a-fae and curvy woman stepped into their conversation, as if invoked. Becka took a half step back, and she sensed the shifters behind her stiffen.
“What a curious excuse! Shadow-Dwellers are but a story told to children to make them behave. Why would Elder Vott feel the need to protect you from boogeymen?” The lady’s arched brow and sneer reeked of contempt.
Becka held her breath a moment and then exhaled slowly. “The Shadow-Dwellers are very much real. Woden… I mean Lagan, proclaimed himself one of them.”
Elder Berkeley’s eyes grew wide with the glint of humor. “You can’t be serious,” he said, incredulous.
The woman’s countenance filled with an icy fury. “I have seen no independent proof of your claim, which you had every reason to invent to justify your transgressions. I grew up with Lord Lagan and he was never anything but kind and generous to me. The word of a city-living fae-touched will never be enough to change my mind.”
Who is this woman?
“You’re from House Holly?” Becka asked.
The fae drew herself up to her full, if diminutive, height. “Indeed. I am Lady Cordelia and I will not tolerate your lies concerning my kin.”
Could Cordelia also be a Shadow-Dweller like Lagan? Or was this just proof at how well they’d integrated within normal fae society?
“You are welcome to read the enforcers’ reports as well as anyone. It’s all in there,” Becka replied, keeping her voice even.
Cordelia held her hand to her throat. “Oh, I have read them, and from what I can gather, the two of you fought an unsanctioned duel and poor Lagan lost. Most likely defending himself from your dangerous new gift. I know we consider declared duels lawful and a fair test of powers, but since when has a fae died during one?” She shook her head and fanned herself vigorously. “I’m still confused why you weren’t jailed over his death!”
Heat radiated from Becka’s ears, and she had to work to keep her balled fists at her sides. “I told you, he admitted to being a Shadow-Dweller!” Her voice came out louder than she’d intended. Definitely too loud for polite company, based on the heads turned her way.
Elder Berkeley held up his hands. “Now, now… Have some decorum, my dear.”
Ignoring him, Cordelia leaned closer and whispered, “Eventually, you will be held to account.” She backed away and barked out a bitter laugh. “Your house may entertain your wild fantasies, but no one else is required to.”
“Believe what you want,” Becka whispered back. “Lagan was a psychopath.” The memory of her blood running down her leg. His blood on her hands. Even months later, the stark images were still fresh in her mind, pulling her focus inward.