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The shadows envelop my body, the old fae souls, long dead, whispering traveling spells at me. I hear the chorus of them as if they’re in the room with us. I slide my hands into my pockets and hum an old military tune.
The Unseelie king starts whistling along with me.
“You know this one?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, but it sounds like it should be played for a marching army.”
“It was.” We have much in common, this king and I. Getting what I need while he’s on the throne of all the Unseelie fae shouldn’t be an issue.
2
NOTTUZA
The notturno who woke me violated the Summer Court’s strict policy on violence during gatherings. He walked into the Summer Fae Court and lost his temper, killing the dungeon master vampire who was near and dear to the Summer king, thereby assuring retaliation, if not of the Summer king, than of the dead male’s vampire house and any house aligned with it.
Since this happened right before the Summer king’s wedding, the Summer fae royals handled what could’ve been a complete disaster for everyone in attendance. And by everyone, I mean the entire world, who gathered there this past summer.
While the unrest between my people is just another spate of chaos for me to tame, I’d have preferred to leave the fae out of our affairs, but the only thing leaving after the shadows deliver us to the Summer Court is the Unseelie king.
“Happy hunting,” he throws over his shoulder, then walks out of the plush gardens and toward the Golden Palace.
The Summer Court’s palace takes up more space than I imagined it would. The structure is large, opulent, shiny, and the people moving about on the grounds are louder than the screams of ten thousand fae fighting on battlefields.
I have no idea what I’m walking into, but based on the memories in my head, my people congregate beneath the Summer Court. Some waste away in the dungeons for crimes against the fae (mainly for uncontrolled lust and feedings) while others, those who’ve learned to coexist with the living, entertain the fae.
I pluck a pretty yellow flower growing from a tall, trimmed bush and bring it to my nose. A combination of orange blossom and lilies tells me this flower was made by magic. A hybrid scent, neither orange nor a lily, but a more pleasant-smelling combination of both.
Almost like a notturno.
Neither dead nor living, but a dead fae brought back to life by magic, then left to its own devices to figure out how to survive once the magic that keeps it alive wears off. And the magic in the blood of the fae I ate from last is wearing off right now. This slows me down, so before I venture into the unknown, I take a walk through the gardens, the tall bushes providing perfect hiding spaces for young lovers and old cheaters.
They also provide the perfect cover for feeding.
The moans I hear reveal the positions of my prey. I listen for male voices. I prefer feeding from males, for they won’t arouse me. I just want a meal, preferably a powerful fae meal. Since I’m in no rush, I stroll at leisure, passing by at least three couples with magic comparable to that possessed by the male I fed from before. Inside me, it won’t last more than a few spans, and then I’ll have to feed again.
I need a fae aristocrat. My memories tell me the fae have been breeding to increase the strength of their magic, and those with the most are at the top of their class, so therefore at the top of my food chain.
A fae runs into me, her magic so strong, it feels like being hit by lightning. My fangs drop, my claws spring out, and I grab the prey and sink my teeth into the soft neck.
A single pull makes blood gush into my mouth, and the moment I taste it, I know the strength, the sheer force of it, threatens my control. I dare another pull and another, then immobilize the fae, who’s trying to get away, and lick the neck wound, closing it instantly.
There’s a pretty diamond stud at the tip of her pointy ear, along with five other golden earrings. My lips at her ear, I whisper, planting a new memory into her mind: “A big bug bit your neck. You swatted it and moved on with your life.”
Instead of leaving as I should, I linger and make the mistake of inhaling her scent.
She smells like…the sun I haven’t experienced in nine thousand turns. Summer nights spent by the firepits while feeding from thousands of beautiful fae. She smells like the ocean breeze, the sand between my toes, the sunburn after a span spent diving in the deep sea, and before I sink my fangs back into her soft neck and drain that sun right out of her, I release her and disappear into the night.
3
NOTTUZA
I’m never feeding from a Summer fairy female again.
Never ever.
She tasted like a wet dream I never even knew I had. When I walked into this court, I thought I would dine and observe only, but I’ve underestimated their breeding practices if they’ve produced creatures with such powerful magic, and overestimated my ability to control myself around that power.
Granted, I parted ways with the delicious meal that ran into me in the gardens, but I could’ve remained sucking on her for an entire evening.
