There was a lot I might have expected from the fey, or, well… probably better to say I didn’t actually know what to expect. I’d seen enough to know it wasn’t all just fairies and court procedural, but not enough to get any sort of solid expectations.

  Which was to say, the front door of the bar flying off its hinges to a raging blizzard was not on my bingo card, but wasn’t exactly blowing apart my expectations.

  What cold was already blowing through the room became a screaming blast, lapping freezing air against my face and making me pull my leather jacket tight around me. Heart racing, wolf begging to claw its way out while I held my ground and tried to push the feeling down. A sheet of white obscuring the outside and blowing a mist into the bar while my eye adjusted to the view and I hesitantly sniffed the air.

  Too many scents, none of them making me think the door was leading to the city anymore as a silhouette strode from field outside. The brief idea that that probably meant we were in a lot more danger than I was prepared for not helping my efforts to keep the wolf down while I hoped beyond hope Barbie would come back. Only when the form outside was on the verge of leaving the mist that Sigyn’s presence clicking in my memory as I glanced over to the girl tucking herself against the wall.

  Any desire I had to comfort her postponed by the queen’s voice echoing through the room, “Robin Goodfellow! You have thirty seconds to explain this treason before I have you torn to shreds and sent back to England one jar at a time!”

  Goodfellow for what it was worth seemed unphased by the display while I was wondering if running out the back door would lead to the city or not, merely stepping past me with a hand on his chest and a bow as he declared, “I don’t mean insult in the act, only to get your attention for a friend of mine. If you will hold the meeting with her, I promise on all titles and holdings to have them restore informing you the moment you leave. Even your cousin understood the importance of alliance above decorum, did he not, m’lady?”

  The wind died down for only a moment, the woman still a shadow in a silent blizzard as she stood there watching us. Only after what felt like an eternity had passed finally stepping into the bar. The door flying back into place behind her as she crossed the threshold; the sounds of the city outside returning in a slow wave while we got our first view of the queen.

  What was considered the local fey queen, though I wasn’t sure how far her territory stretched or how the fey even determined that, the woman looked almost uncanny. Not inhuman precisely, but like a human for whom every poetic description of their appearance had been made literal. Eyes whose iris’s looked like they contained carved emeralds, hair that looked like strans pulled from the night sky, skin that looked genuinely forged from bronze with an almost sharp cut to the cheeks. Her outfit a grand ball gown that looked like it’d been woven from yellowed grass and decorated with red and orange leaves like embroidery, attached to a body that would make a girl think Jessica Rabbit was realistic goals.

  It probably took me too long to realize I was paying way too much time working out the dress’s paneling before she asked me, “are you jealous, wolf blood? I could have my tailors make you something similar at no great cost.”

  Not one sentence from me and she was already setting me up, had to get our guidelines set fast. The dress was a good distraction from the mind numbing fear, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t still be on my toes.

  “I would dare to think I was deserving of something such as that,” I answered neutrally as possible, resting a hand on my chest while giving a small bow like Misha instructed. My heart knocking against my palm like a hammer while I felt the sweat dripping off my forehead, trying to focus on anything else at the moment. Maybe a curtsy would have worked, or something a little less formal, would have been a little better looking, couldn’t risk it. “I have come to discuss matters with you and that alone, though I would like to first set some ground rules for how we understand one another.”

  The queen sighed, shaking her head as she paced the floor on diamond heels and complained, “this old song and dance, may I have your name first at the very least?”

  “You may know my name is Mary Jameson, right hand of The Lady, though you may not have it.”

  She chuckled at that least, one glass nail raised to her lip as she glanced back at me and purred, “oh, Misha taught you didn’t he? Well, we can go through the same hurdles and scripts he always put me through or agree to the same terms: I swear on my title and all holdings, no matter what is said or how it is phrased, no contract, trade, or agreement will be made between us unless I explain the terms and you declare the deal is made. Does that work for you?”

  “The deal is made,” I avoided the last trap, the queen seeming more than a little amused by that, “you’ve been avoiding The Lady’s inquiries, she said she tried to get in contact with you just recently? Is this true, Queen Procya.”

  “I respect her authority over you other supernaturals, as they call you, but she is young and many authorities are temporary by my standards,” the queen explained with a hand brushed through the air, stopping for only a moment to ask, “is this about those fey being killed? I remember hearing a few of my contacts had been slain, though I thought my guard would have handled that. What more is left to be said about it at this point?”

  Alright, playing dumb or genuinely not seeing it as a problem?

  “Are you aware that someone has been targeting other allies of The Lady, as well as local hunters in the area?” I asked, maybe a little too quickly adding on, “I think it would help if you told me whether you’d known any of that.”

  That made her stop, the fey actually staring me straight on for a long time before finally asking, “does The Lady suspect me of being behind some of these deaths?”

  Well at least she could add two and two together, “our concern is you may have thought The Lady behind it, or at least think she wasn’t responding properly, and we just wanted to make sure there were no misunderstandings between either party on the matter.”

  Queen Procya nodded, her smile thin and cold as she started a slow walk to me and I became distinctly aware of one thing I hadn’t noticed:

  She was taller than me. Whether she’d started that way or it was some illusion or change she’d made in the walk I couldn’t be sure, but at the moment she was looming near a foot above me with that cold smile. The wolf wanting to jump up and rip her throat out, and the distinct feeling that she would have killed me then and there if she could holding it at bay more than my own control.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Make no mistake, little girl,” she started, her voice a dull echo on my ears, the temperature feeling like it dropped a degree in with each word she spoke, “if I ever wish a strike on that pitiful leech I would not need to rely on mortal mercenaries for the act, and I would not wet my lips on allies and hunters. There is nothing behind my refusal to arrange a meeting beyond the fact I will meeting with her in a few nights anyway and I don’t care to see her more than required.”

  She snapped back to a smile after just a second, the temperature immediately restoring to normal though not helping the wolf’s growing urge to either growl or run. Instead forcing me to beat the growing urge back, force thought into my screaming head, and slowly ask, “so you know about the mercenaries?”

  If it was supposed to be a secret the fey didn’t show it, just giving a short shrug as she admitted, “Goodfellow’s informants picked up on what was happening a couple weeks back, and it was reported to me. That is, as he is supposed to do as a sworn subject in my territory.”

  Goodfellow shrugged at the news even as I stared him down, raising a brow to ask, “and you didn’t bring this up when I said I needed to talk to her about this?”

  “Promise to the queen, dear girl, outside my hands,” the fey offered, and from everything I’d seen about the fey I couldn’t really say that sounded fake.

  My mind was still trying to think of just how to get that information out of her when she finally asked, “you said your name was Jameson?”

  “I did,” I admitted hesitantly, the queen letting out a low hum at that, “you know my dad I take it?”

  “I believe I knew a Jameson once, didn’t I, Goodfellow?” the queen asked, the man raising a brow as she snapped her fingers and declared, “ah, you must be Hank’s daughter aren’t you? Yes, he was an adequate contact for a time, rather cheap to get his help on a few delicate matters. Am I correct?”

  It probably took me too long to recognize “Hank” before I remembered my own grandfather’s name. Not that it was weird, he’d died when I was younger from everything I’d been told and most people didn’t use their grandparent’s first names.

  All the same ringing weird for me as I slowly answered, “my grandfather, my dad’s his son. Martin? Hank Jameson died when I was a kid, car accident.”

  “no large loss, though at the same time…” the queen stopped and let out a long and low sigh, looking up at the other fey. In a voice I could have sworn was almost annoyed just asking, “Goodfellow?”

  “You made no explicit promises which could extend to future generations,” the fey answered, clearing his throat as I glanced back to him once more. The man looking briefly to the floor before adding on, “though it would be a sign of good faith for her-”

  “Yes, yes, sentimentality and all those matters,” the queen brushed off as she started towards the door. Stopping as she reached its threshold and not moving a muscle as she stared down the door like it’d open out of sheer respect, which… okay, it might have for a fey. Only as I thought she might have completely forgot what she was doing that the queen spun around and announced, “you may grant her a basic understanding of the situation, but don’t make me party to her future actions. The fey will remain neutral in any matters of politics The Lady has drawn herself into, and I won’t risk being seen as a party to it.”

  Robin chuckled at that, arms behind his back as he bowed and thorough half-held laughs said, “is that so, m’lady? What are you thinking then as the pixie flies? A revelation and a realization, or just a foreshadowing and dream? Mayhaps a dreadful whispering and-”

  “Every year I understand more and more why my cousin said I should have let your exile be at the bottom of the ocean,” the queen interrupted once more, not even looking back to the man as she snapped her fingers and the door once more flew off its hinges. What blizzard had been there before replaced by a green forest and a warm breeze carrying all the scents I would have expected from that as she left on the final word, “as you first reported it to me. I’ve already negotiated our way out of further issues, and I won’t have there be any question to the fact we are out of this. I consider it only by her blood that I’m even slightly compelled to offer the bare minimum of warning.”

  Letting that be her final word on the matter, Procya left the bar into the forest and let the door slam back into place behind her. The air once more returning to normal and the wolf feeling like it rested for the first time since the queen first appeared.

  One step, two steps, and I half-collapsed to sit in the table Goodfellow had set up in the middle of the room, perhaps expecting a more civilized discussion. For a moment trying to speak and finding that no words could escape my throat, my heart racing faster and faster, breath refusing to slow down. My brief break from the wolf’s fear switching on a dime as I felt it craving the blood on its tongue, to run free and hunt.

  A hand grabbed my shoulder and I was on my feet in a minute, growling at Goodfellow with his raised hands before I saw the form past him. Breathing just as hard as I was, gripping her chest, wide eyed and ready to collapse as I rushed over to Sigyn myself.

  “Alright, Sigyn, breath with me,” I forced out with a strength I didn’t know was left, knowing my own fear probably inspired no confidence, “deep breath in, deep breath out, breath with me.”

  Not really being the best role model I tried to at least halfway slow my breathing down for the girl. Taking in a deep breath as much as I wanted to keep hyperventilating, holding it as much as I wanted to scream, letting a slow breath out as hard as it was. Keeping that up until she was following along with me, tears streaming down her cheeks, until even I was feeling just a little more calm.

  “I’m sorry,” she started, her breath threatening to shallow once more, “I shouldn’t be like this, I shouldn’t-”

  “Hey, you haven’t dealt with people like this as much as me, and even I started falling apart as soon as she was gone,” I comforted, honestly a little glad I wasn’t going to be judged for having done so, “you just… can she get a drink? Some water?” I asked.

  Goodfellow nodded, leaving the room for a few minutes while I kept comforting the girl and coming back a minute later with a glass of water for each of us. Sigyn going to gulp hers down before I stopped her, made her take sips, and she finally said, “we got what we needed at least, right?”

  “I guess we did,” I muttered, taking a seat with her at the table in the center and asking, “what can you tell us, Goodfellow?”

  The man nodded, clearing his throat a moment as he found his own seat and sat in front of us. A few fingers stroking his beard for a moment before he finally started, “some mercenaries started coming into the town a few weeks back, met up with a contact at various drop points throughout the area. From what I could tell? Few independents, few groups, no group bigger than three. About a dozen more came through at different points, but I don’t think any of them stayed around for longer than a few days after their meeting.”

  I nodded, letting the words settle in for a moment before hesitantly asking, “can’t tell us whose doing it?”

  “A promise to my queen,” Goodfellow admitted mournfully, “what I can say is what I told my queen: all of them were hired by one person, but they’re getting assigned to different places.”

  “Well, why the fuck would you do that?” I asked, almost as much to myself as him, “I mean, okay, guess if you’re holding a grudge, but… lot of trouble to go through, I guess. If you’re a hunter you’re already trained in killing these people, it’s more expensive than going rogue targeting them yourself and probably as much trouble. If you’re supernatural you’re probably better equipped for doing it yourself than a random mercenary.”

  Goodfellow didn’t give any hints on his stony face and Sigyn let us sit in silence for several seconds before she looked up. Her voice almost meek as she asked, “who could afford that many mercenaries? I mean, I don’t know real life rates, but like… I have to imagine that’s millions, right?”

  And right now was a time I was glad I had her around, a small smile crossing my lips as I admitted, “Vergil does apparently know about mercenaries, why we were talking to him next. I think he’d be able to give us a good idea of what sort of budget we’re looking for from our suspect.”