Dirty Lying Faeries

Chapter Five

Devin

Sometimes I regretted having a damn doorbell. You would think being a lord of one of the four fae courts I could command those under me to leave me alone, but there was always something that needed my attention. An endless stream of responsibility.

It had been a long weekend—dealing with humans, arguing with the other court leaders over petty squabbles, beginning the changeling's transformation, though that had been quite a pleasant surprise this year. And now, just when I had gotten home . . .

Whoever was outside had better have something important to say or I would be filleting a faerie. Passing by the hallway mirror, I checked my appearance—my glamour was firmly in place. As usual, I looked impeccably human as the doorbell rang again.

"I'm coming." I continued down the hall and yanked open the door to see one of my Winter Court fae standing there with a chip on her shoulder. "What?"

"I—were you asleep?" Heather's expression had gone from visibly upset to surprised.

"I was trying to, seeing as I hadn't slept since before the party. What is it?"

"Pick a different one," Heather snapped, the previous upset was on her face once more. She flipped her long black hair over her shoulder and stood straight, nearly matching my height with her shoulders squared and her fury on full display.

"Pick a different what?" I crossed my arms and leaned against the frame. "You have one minute to get to the point."

"A different changeling," she said.

"That's not possible, the change has been initiated."

"She's one of my best customers, and she's my friend. She absolutely does not deserve this." Heather shook her head. "She shouldn't even have been a candidate! Pick a different one."

"You know it doesn't work that way. Good-bye, Heather." I tried to close the door, but she stuck her arm inside at the last second.

Her hands became claws. "Your glamour is slipping," I said.

"There has to be another way," she demanded.

"You know there isn't. Don't be stupid; it isn't becoming of our kind."

"At least tell me why." Her voice cracked.

An ache was already starting in my temples. There would always be a soft spot for Heather as one of my more unfortunate changelings. "Come inside."

We entered the sitting room, where I sank into one of the matching black sofas, tossing a lazy gesture for Heather to take the opposite one if she wished to sit. "What's this really about, Heather? Is her situation bringing back bad memories for you?"

The anxious fae remained standing, fidgeting with the zipper on her jacket. "No, it's not that. Thea shouldn't even be a candidate in the first place, who nominated her?"

"Lady Georgina's Summer-Court-pain-in-my-ass found this one. When I agreed to turn the yearly changeling, she was the one who insisted we take turns locating candidates." Recalling the report, I ticked the list off on my fingers. "No family, almost no friends, no strong connections to humanity that can't easily be erased. And compatible traits with the Summer Court. Reckless, impulsive, emotional. They haven't had one in a while, so the changeling was accepted."

"That's not Thea at all." She narrowed her eyes. "Wait. Was Thea the only human there?"

"Of course, she . . ." I said, remembering the obnoxious one who interrupted us. "No."

"Who else?" Heather demanded, and I turned a stony expression her way, ice creeping across the floor from my feet even as the air took on a biting cold. The overhead light flickered.