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He stared at her wings, and she tucked them in tighter.
Frankie felt a glimmer of hope when he did not seem to connect her—now a woman, to the twelve year old who had thwarted him six years ago. The twelve year old didn’t have wings. Lucky, lucky me, how could he put it together. She could stall, she thought as she attempted to come up with a story.
She knew that at any moment, he might link her to that child, and he had every reason to hate that child for her part in his defeat six years ago. She wasn’t sure what he would do with her if she stuck around. She should shift off, yet something made her stay.
She had been twelve years old when she had stood in Dublin, enraged because of the death and destruction his Unseelie army had committed against her beloved humans, and Fae.
Her Fios fireball had appeared in her hands, and she found she was able to spin it into something that spread out into a huge flaming fireball. It grew until it was bigger than anything she had ever imagined and eventually took out thousands of his Dark Fae in one fell swoop.
It had given her nightmares for a very long time. It had lodged a dark and unwanted new power deep inside of her that she buried and kept buried.
She was an adult woman now—would he know her if he kept looking at her? Her hair was no longer auburn, but black and streaked with gold, and it was obvious that he had seen her new black feathery wings tucked in at her back. How could he connect her to the twelve year old child he had known? At any rate, until he did, she had time to figure out a way out of this predicament. The thing was what exactly should she say?
She was in a dimension with two Dark, unredeemable, oh so wicked, princes, Pestale and Hordly. Because Frankie was quick minded, she realized at once, it was no coincidence that the Blue Demons who had attacked Trinity with bombs had come from a Realm which housed the two Darkest of Royals!
Now what are ye going to do, she asked herself, do ye know, Frankie girl—do ye have a clue?
“As it happens,” she said with a heavy and flirtatious Irish lilt in an attempt to make him continue to see the woman, not the child, “I was in flight, traveling dimensions, and noticed your beautiful world. Thought I would stop awhile—visit,” she paused, sighed heavily, “But I will be expected home, so off I go.”
“Not so fast,” Pestale said his eyes thoughtful as hell. Time to shift, she told herself just as he lifted his hand.
Pestale’s hand came up short, as Frankie had shifted backward and out of reach. She should leave, but all she could do was take to the sky and he could follow…he could track her, and she didn’t know where she was going.
She stared at him hard for she could see he was plotting out his next move. “Tell me Dark Prince, how did ye open a portal to the Human Realm? Did not yer Dark King—yer dear father take away yer ability to do so?”
“He did, but he did not interfere with the inhabitants of this realm. I am a very good teacher, when it suits me.” He moved toward her once more. “How do you know so much about me? Who are you?”
“Well now, as it happens, gossip is rife in the Universe,” she bluffed, stalling for time, hoping to get some more out of him. “We know quite a bit about the Dark Prince Pestale.”
“So you say, but I say, you are a Fae,” Pestale said sniffing the air.
“In a manner of speaking, I am.”
“What is it you think you know about me?” Pestale asked as he inched closer.
“I have heard ye are wicked, but brilliantly so. I hear ye were banished to live for eternity in some dimension, and I’m guessing that must be so and this must be it,” she said glibly.
“And did you think I would believe your lies,” he asked contemptuously. “Did you think I would not know that you are Daoine—no, not just Daoine, is that not right?” Realization swept into his voice, “You are a Sluagh, but how is that…?” Dawning washed over his face and Frankie knew, she absolutely knew it was time to shift away, well away out of his range, but she hesitated, she wanted to hear what he would say, didn’t think he could touch her, after all, how could he? She could fly, she could shift but she heard Jazz so often repeat, don’t be too cocky, Frankie, it will lead you into trouble.
“I knew your voice was familiar. I saw your wings, and thought perhaps you weren’t Fae at all, but an immortal from another realm. I did not quite know what to make of you, at first, but of course, you are Deimne’s Faeling.” It was said with derision.
She put up her chin, “Faeling? Aye, that I am, and proud of it. Do ye think it makes me less a Fae, to have a mother who was both human and Fios? More fool be ye then,” she returned with a wide smile. “I love being a Faeling. I love what it means because it says clearly I am both, m’mother and m’father’s child.”
Pestale’s eyes became slits as he considered her, and he said softly, “What now shall I do with you?” he asked more of himself than of her.
Frankie shrugged, “What makes ye think ye can do anything with me?” A voice in her head shouted at her, told her to shift NOW—told her this was the Dark Prince, Pestale, who was forever full of surprises and determination. She knew she was on the arrogant edge of danger and still could not move. She knew she wanted to defeat him more than she wanted to hide.
“Here is the situation, little Sluagh. You no doubt followed the Blue Demons into the portal…”
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” she said cutting him off.
“No? How would you put it?”
“Your Daoine spy, Prince Worley pushed me in” she snapped and watched for his reaction.
He laughed, “Indeed, Prince Worley thinks that when I take the earth away from the humans, he will have his chance to rebuild it and overthrow Queen Mab. He is a fool.”
So, her suspicions about Worley had been correct from the start. “Aye,” she nodded, “He is that, but why then do you use him?”
