Motor City Fae (23 page)

Meagan must have blinked, because when she opened her eyes, a room had taken shape around her. And what a room! Tall stone pillars supported an ornate plasterwork ceiling that soared high overhead. The smooth stone walls of the octagonal chamber were decorated with gilded carvings and vibrant tapestries.

“Wow,” Meagan whispered. “This is incredible.”

“No, this is a hallway.” Ric spoke in a normal volume, his tone teasing. “Wait till you see inside.”

Axel and Fearghus waited a few steps out from where Meagan and Ric were standing. She looked back over her shoulder to see that they’d come through a stone archway, filled with the same misty blackness as the doorway in Chicago. On the wall across from the portal was a pair of enormous double doors made of elaborately carved and inlaid wood. Two men, or rather elves, in silver tunics and blue leggings flanked the doorway. Meagan gulped when she saw that each of them carried a wicked-looking sword. Those didn’t look like they’d come from any reproduction catalog.

One of the guards stepped forward and addressed Ric, ignoring Fearghus and Axel. “Bard.” He nodded with what looked like genuine respect. “Her Majesty is expecting you.”

Ric nodded back. “Thank you, Dugald. May I present Meagan Kelly, the new Lady Rose?”

Both guards turned to Meagan and bowed at the waist.

Their eyes never left her, however and she noticed their hands never left their sword hilts. “Welcome to court, my lady.” The one Ric had called Dugald spoke politely, but without expression. “Your apartments have been prepared, but the queen wishes to speak with you immediately.”

It’s good to be queen, Meagan thought, suppressing a giggle. But since Ric had told her to expect this, she quickly hid her smile and nodded. “Of course.”

Ric unslung one of his guitar cases and handed it to Fearghus. He selected one of the paintings from Axel.

“Thanks, guys. Think you can put that stuff in my room?”

“Certainly.” Axel didn’t seem surprised about not accompanying them to the throne room, so things must be going as planned. So far.

Meagan still wished she knew what the hell was happening, but she wasn’t going to embarrass herself by whining. She smiled at the guards. “Whenever you’re ready.”

She could have sworn that one of them almost smiled.

“Right this way, my lady.” He held open the door, gesturing for Meagan and Ric to precede him through.

She took Ric’s arm and headed into fairyland.

Two steps in and she almost turned and fled. Why was it that every place she went lately was even more opulent and fantastic than the last? Her artist’s eyes were dazzled by the glittering crystals, gleaming polished woods and glowing silver. This was some sort of lobby area, furnished with seating areas scattered around several indoor fountains and flowerbeds. Sumptuous silk fabrics were everywhere, along with what had to be genuine gems the size of her fist. It was, however, as empty of people as the chamber they’d just left.

“Where do we go next, because I don’t think there is another step up from this,” she breathed.

“Hah. Wait till you see the throne room.” Ric squeezed her hand. “That’s where she was
trying
for ostentatious.”

“Yikes!”

Another pair of guards opened another set of double doors and Meagan saw what he meant. It was every child’s imagination come to life and then some. There were simply no words to describe the place beyond the obvious. Fairy. Tale. Palace. On steroids.

In this massive hall, there were people milling about.

Some were seated on velvet-covered chairs and sofas, while others strolled. There appeared to be waitstaff, but they didn’t carry laden trays. Instead, they appeared to blink in whatever was requested, while others, dressed more plainly, bustled around blinking out empty glasses and plates. Everybody looked like a character from
Lord
of the Rings
. Except for Meagan in her coral linen suit.

When she saw the dais at one end of the chamber, she forgot about anything else.

Seated in a jewel-encrusted throne made from either pure silver or platinum and cushioned in white fur, was one of the most stunningly beautiful creatures that Meagan had ever seen. And also the coldest. Icy blue eyes made contact with Meagan’s from across the room and Meagan shivered down to her toes.

“Buck up, love,” Ric whispered, still holding her hand in the crook of his elbow as he formally escorted her forward. “Remember, she needs you, not the other way around.”

“Gotcha.” She kept telling herself that, but her subconscious wasn’t buying it.

“And, Meagan, if I seem, well, different, remember that I am a spy and it’s my job to play a number of roles. I will always tell you the truth in private, but don’t be surprised by anything I say or do in public.”

“Gotcha there, too.” She’d known things would be different here, that her magical interlude with Ric would end when he’d delivered her to the queen.

The crowd parted as they approached the dais and Meagan could feel the weight of maybe a hundred gazes.

She straightened her spine, sucked in her gut and plastered her have-I-got-a-painting-to-sell-you smile on her face. She’d faced down Sister Mary Ignatius in seventh grade and survived. She could handle an elven queen.

“That’s my girl.”

As she watched, Ric’s demeanor changed.

All the warmth and laughter disappeared. His face turned to stone and his posture stiffened, pulling subtly away from her. If he hadn’t warned her ahead of time, Meagan would have been terrified by the transformation.

The queen’s platinum blond hair had to reach past her butt, Meagan thought waspishly. It was done up in an elaborate arrangement of braids and curls, twined with ribbons and studded with crystals that were probably real diamonds. Her gown was a shimmering silvery blue, exactly matching the shade of her eyes. She couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds dripping wet. Meagan knew she’d have to paint her some day, though she hated the woman on sight. Right from the diamond-studded tips of her delicately pointed ears to her silver-slipper-covered toes.

Her own smile was probably more please-don’t-eat-me than please-buy-my-painting, but at least it stayed in place and her knees weren’t knocking. All in all, that was probably the best she could hope for.

“Your Majesty.” Ric swept into a low formal bow, dragging Meagan into the curtsey they’d practiced that morning. She managed to pull it off without falling, but now her knees were wobbling, damn it! He helped her to her feet while she defiantly returned the queen’s cool stare.

“You barely made your deadline, bard.” Her voice was low, melodic and practically dripped icicles.

“Ah, Majesty, but make it, I did.” Ric’s accent had thickened, his lilt grown more pronounced. “Having fulfilled my quest, may I present the results? ’Tis my honor, Your Majesty, to introduce Miss Meagan Rose Kelly, lately of Michigan. Meagan, meet Her Majesty Llyris Astrella, Queen of Elfhame.”

The queen turned to look down her nose at Meagan.

“You are the offspring of Emery of Rose?”

Meagan tipped her chin a fraction of an inch. “So I’ve been told.” She wasn’t going to add the “Your Majesty” bit to every sentence. She was an American, after all.

“Show me the mark.” She couldn’t have looked less interested. She didn’t bother to even look at Meagan when she spoke and did everything but yawn in overt boredom.

“Here? In front of all these people?” Okay, so she’d been a nude model for one art class. One. And she’d discovered that exhibitionism really wasn’t her thing.

“The mark is present, Majesty,” Ric interjected. “And remember that Lady Rose was raised in a far more—inhibited society. I’m sure she’d be willing to display the mark in a more private setting.”

She’d been warned that things were different here.

Meagan looked around. Several of the women wore gowns that showed more skin than Meagan’s beige satin bra. She shrugged out of her suit jacket and handed it to Ric. “Here. Hold this.” She held her head high while she tugged off the ivory silk shell and pulled the left bra strap slightly aside, revealing what she still thought of as her birthmark. She lifted her gaze to meet the queen’s.

The elven monarch actually seemed to be fighting a smile. She gestured to one of the guards flanking the throne, who thumped the staff he was holding, rapping it sharply against the floor in three sharp cracks. The queen straightened her pose in the throne and raised her voice to the assembled crowd. “Hear this!”

All conversation and movement ceased. All eyes turned toward the throne.

“I hereby declare this woman, Meagan Kelly of Michigan, to be Lady of Rose, heiress to all titles, estates and privileges held by her father, Emery, Lord Rose.” She lowered her tone, nodded briefly at Meagan. “Well done. You may now resume your clothing.”

“Thank you.” Meagan pulled her top back on and fluffed her hair out from under the neckline. When Ric tried to hand over her jacket, she took the painting he was carrying instead. “I’ve brought you a gift, Your Majesty.”

The queen made a gesture and two men dressed in the same blue and silver as the guards stepped forward from the sides of the dais. One took the painting from Meagan, while the other, at the queen’s signal, carefully removed the brown paper wrapping.

The room was utterly silent except for the crackle as the paper was removed. The guards’ faces were devoid of expression while they slowly revealed the canvas. The queen stared coldly while Meagan struggled to keep her head held high. Finally, when the last of the paper was removed, the queen scanned the painting and nodded at Meagan.

“I am pleased. The bard claims that you have painted scenes from your dreams. Is this true?”

Meagan nodded and swallowed before she could frame a reply. “It is, Your Majesty.”

“I see. Well, we shall choose to accept that as further evidence to support your inheritance.” She turned to the guards. “See that this is hung in my private quarters.

Immediately.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” The only thing the guard didn’t do was salute. Meagan assumed that must be a human tradition. But the painting was handed off to another guard dressed in the same uniform but with less trim. He handled it carefully as he scurried out of the room.

Meagan couldn’t see or hear Ric moving next to her, but she sensed his relief. Apparently the queen had liked the gift.

“Eada will show you to your quarters,” the queen continued, her stern gaze now focused back on Meagan.

“There will be a banquet in your honor this evening and I will meet with you privately on the morrow.”

Meagan remembered her coaching and dropped a curtsey. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Your Majesty.” An older elven woman had approached the throne. Her gown was far simpler and sturdier than those worn by the others, but still looked like something out of a fairytale to Meagan. Up close, Meagan could spot a few silver strands threading through the woman’s reddish-blond hair and the faintest trace of crows-feet around her clear blue eyes. It was the first sign of actual aging Meagan had seen on any of Ric’s people.

The older woman turned to Ric and gave a smaller bow.

“Sir Bard.”

Finally, she turned to Meagan and dropped all the way to the ground. “My lady,” she whispered, with what sounded like tears in her voice. “Praise the Goddess, you’ve come at last.”

“Meagan, this is Eada,” Ric told her. The name sounded like “Ay-tha.” He reached out to help the older woman rise. “She’ll help you find your way.” He turned and dropped a bow to the queen. “And I’ll be finding my way to my own humble abode, if it pleases Your Majesty. It’s been some time since I’ve been home.”

“You may go.” The monarch dismissed Ric with a casual wave. “Attend me in my quarters an hour before the meal.”

Meagan suppressed a surge of jealousy. She could tell there was more to Ric’s relationship with his boss than he’d bothered to mention. She tugged her blazer from his hands and pulled it on. Ignoring Ric, she turned to the woman who was smiling at her like she was Ed McMahon with a million-dollar check. “Hi, Eada. Thank you.” After a farewell curtsey to the queen, she turned and followed the older woman out of the throne room.

Well, so far, so good. Nobody had denounced her as an imposter and the queen hadn’t yelled, “Off with her head!” And Her Majesty had seemed to genuinely like the painting. Meagan owed Ric for that idea, even if she was pissed at him at the moment.

Meagan supposed that was probably about the best she could hope for. She followed Eada down the hallway, trying not to gape. After the opulence of the throne room, the corridors seemed downright plain, but the simple grace and elegance of the carved wood and vaulted ceilings were still stunning.

She really wished they’d let Ric accompany her. It was hard to maintain a mad when she missed him so desperately after only a minute. She was a big girl, had been on her own for a long time and was a fully functional, independent human being,
damn it
. So why did she feel so lost without him beside her? Probably because she had come to think of him as her guide through all the insanity. He was her anchor, her one link to what she still thought of as the real world. Without him, she was truly alone in a place she didn't understand.

“This is your apartment, my lady.” The elven woman had stopped in front of a door covered in intricately carved rosebushes. The petals were overlaid with rosetinted gold leaf, while the leaves appeared to be verdigris, either oxidized copper or bronze.

She reached out to touch it, but instinctively pulled back, as if waiting for the museum guard to growl at her.

She’d always had the urge to touch works of art, as if she could somehow absorb a sense of the artist’s genius through her fingertips.
Who knew?
She had all sorts of powers she knew nothing about. Maybe she had always been a touch psychometric and she’d never known. More likely it was just a whimsical feeling of connecting to the past.

Eada must have seen her hesitation, because she smiled.

“It is your door, my lady. You may touch it all you like.”