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In my opinion, she didn’t succeed. First, she raised her massive castle of crystal which sits on the horizon amid rolling hills and a lazy river of teal blue. The green of the grass is bright, all the blades of perfect height and symmetry, and they sparkle as if coated in diamond dust. The trees are identical without character and produce no fruit to enjoy.
It’s the sky I hate the most. It’s a champagne color, devoid of sun or clouds. Just an endless golden glow that makes the entire environment shimmer to the point everything looks distorted.
I thought Deandra might change things up when she became queen, but apparently, she has the same lack of taste her mother did.
Truett and I are working together at Amell’s order. We inspect the new rip in the veil found this morning by one of the Light Fae who lives close to it. A farmer who raises livestock was out shepherding when one of his sheep disappeared into thin air. Upon closer examination, he discovered the tear but dared not go into whatever realm it disappeared into.
Word was sent to the castle, the castle sent word to Amell in the Underworld, and here I am with Amell’s best friend who I happen to like a lot.
We confirmed pretty quickly that the tear connected Faere to the Underworld, same as the others, and the poor sheep met its demise by a band of hungry fae.
I turn to Rebsha, a huge Light Fae and Deandra’s most trusted advisor, who has been awaiting word. “Let the queen know it leads to the Underworld.”
Rebsha nods and disappears, bending distance to the crystal castle on the horizon where Deandra is supposedly in residence.
“There’s no rhyme or reason to these tears,” Truett says as he studies the opening. It’s only about five feet high and maybe three feet wide. Big enough for a sheep to slip through to the other side but also big enough for Dark Fae to squeeze into Faere.
Veils are tricky phenomena. It’s a term that means nothing more than the separation between dimensions, but there are no defined boundaries between such. I can open a veil right here to go into the Underworld, take one step to the right, and open another veil to go to the First Dimension. It’s all about intent on your destination.
Whoever is opening these passageways is doing it by design—someone from the Underworld wants into Faere.
“Why leave the openings?” Truett ponders as he studies it. “I mean, why not cover your tracks?”
I shrug as I stand beside him. “Unless someone is coming in for a quick in and out. Hell, maybe they just wanted sheep for dinner?”
Truett snorts. It’s a possibility, but both of us know this is more sinister. Travel out of the Underworld isn’t prohibited as long as Amell approves it. Light and Dark Fae do associate with one another. They sure don’t mind fucking and some even have lasting relationships and produce offspring called daemons.
These mysterious openings—done in secret and occurring at random times—lend to the credibility that there’s a plan behind it.
“Weren’t you given my missive to attend to me in the castle?” Truett and I turn to Deandra’s voice, but her eyes are on me.
“I attend to no one,” I say, my tone light to soften the rebuke.
The new queen of Faere isn’t flighty like her mother was and isn’t easy to offend. She hums as if she doesn’t believe my proclamation.
Deandra is dressed to seduce, and I’d like to say it’s only for me, but this is how she dresses all the time. Her sexual appetites are well known and she loves to inflame men’s passions.
Today she’s wearing a white gossamer gown that’s so transparent she might as well be naked. Her pebbled nipples poke against the thin fabric that covers her from neck to toe but does nothing to hide her body. It’s so diaphanous, Truett and I can tell that Deandra likes to wax, and well… we both look.
Who wouldn’t?
It’s also what Deandra wanted as she preens under our attention. Snapping her fingers, a large white tent without walls appears behind her with an enormous bed in the center that looks like it was built just for an orgy. She jerks her head that way and looks between the two of us. “Want to join me there to discuss things?”
“I’d be glad to discuss things there,” Truett says as he steps in that direction.
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t. Here’s just fine.”
Deandra pouts. “Party pooper.”
Not sure when I got so conservative and boring, but I say, “There are more important things than sex.”
Tipping her head back, Deandra laughs. She winks at Truett, then wags her finger at me. “That’s simply not true. But tell me what you’ve found so I can be done with this and take your stud of a Dark Fae friend to bed.”
Though in the same breath she wants to discuss business and fuck Truett, the expression on her face is hard and calculating. She’s a queen first looking to protect her land.
Deandra was the only daughter of Nimeyah and Callidan, angels expelled from heaven when they betrayed God. She had a brother, Pyke, but she killed him.
No tears were shed because he deserved it. Pyke was in collusion with Kymaris, and he helped capture and kill his own mother, Nimeyah. It was a ritual sacrifice to bolster the power of the Blood Stone and it would bring down the entire veil between Hell and the mortal Earth.
