Keep to the coast for the deep-sea fishing trip takes about thirty minutes. All those going on the trip are assembled in the front courtyard and a fleet of hunter-green Range Rovers stands at the ready to convey us. Each car is driven by a member of Edmund’s pack with a second pack member riding shotgun as extra security.
Reg and the council member from western Russia, Dmitri, are about to enter a car when Kyoko calls out. “Dmitri, would you ride with me? There’s something I want to discuss with you.”
“Of course,” Dmitri responds, and goes to join Kyoko in her car. She leans toward him like a co-conspirator, their heads close together in the back seat. From the looks of things she’s trying to build an alliance with him, if she doesn’t already have one, while also probably talking shit about me. My shit-talking theory is proven correct when she pulls back from their conversation and points a manicured finger directly at me.
Is she trying to poison everyone against me? I don’t have to worry about her stabbing me in the back, she’s going to spit right in my eye. On the boat this afternoon, I need to get some face time with the other council members and make a case for aligning with Avalon.
Most of the year-long probationary period the council imposed when I inherited my seat has passed. I have a small window of opportunity to prove I’m worthy of the seat and secure alliances on the council. If I fail at either, I risk the others joining forces and finding an excuse—even a flimsy one—to vote me out. It looks like Kyoko already has the wheels in motion on that. Losing the seat would lower Avalon’s profile on the universal stage and make me look like an incompetent ruler—both of which could open Avalon up to attack. Not to mention it would most certainly disappoint my mother.
In the back of our Range Rover, my phone rings. I take the call and listen quietly. “Okay, keep an eye on her and what she’s posting,” I say and then end the call.
Ash looks up from what he’s reading on his phone.
“That was Kat. She went to see the Instagram model this morning. The model admitted she was paid a hundred thousand dollars to go to the airport and proposition you—so it could be filmed—and then another fifty thousand to post the edited video.”
“Does she know who hired her?” he asks.
“No, it was an anonymous source. The model said all contact was through email. And the payment was from a numbered account.”
“She was also paid to post the picture from our consummation and make it seem like you spent the night with her. Both posts are deleted now. For whatever good that will do.”
Ash shows me the email he was reading on his phone. “Luke got almost the exact same story from the owner of that fan club website. The video clip of me walking on the beach and the misleading pictures of you and your leaders were sent to her by email, and she was told that if she posted them online, she’d be paid seventy-five thousand dollars by wire. She posted them, and the money was transferred from a numbered account. She’s taken down the TikTok video and the webpage about you.”
“Have you petitioned the Faerie Lords to give us Thane?” I ask.
“Yes, and they already responded. They said he’s not with them any longer. That he left their protection more than a month ago after a disagreement. They don’t know where he is.”
“Do you believe them? The fae are known for their trickery.”
“They said he left because they denied his request for a higher rank, more influence. They didn’t have to tell me that. It sounded like the truth. I’ve dispatched a squad of Gorm to look for him. Talk to his acquaintances. Search the places he’s known to frequent.”
“Where could he be?” I whisper and turn to stare out the window. I barely register the landscape and villages that zip past as I think about the threat Thane poses. What’s he going to do next? All these distractions are taking my focus away from what’s important—securing my council seat.
At the coastline, we disembark from the cars. The salty air and caw of the seagulls makes me smile. I’m at my strongest close to water. On my mother’s side, our enchantress line was born from the love affair between a Celtic water witch and an aquatic male fae. On my father’s side, I’m descended from a sea nymph. If you cut me, I’d probably bleed water. How comfortable are foxes with water, I wonder? Do they like it? If Kyoko were to fall overboard, would she be able to swim? I smile wider.
Edmund, with Elle as his side, leads our party down to the marina to meet our chartered yacht. Walking down the dock, we pass several fishing boats that have recently returned to shore. The fishermen are unloading their catch from extra-large white coolers, and some are cleaning their fish on makeshift tables right on the dock.
The sight and smell of the fish turns my stomach, and my smile slips. I gaze out over the water and breathe deeply through my mouth to try to settle my churning insides. It doesn’t work. Watching the waves makes me even dizzier. The coffee and toast I had for breakfast threaten to make an appearance. What’s wrong with me? Is it my magic? I’ve never felt like this before.
I have to get on that boat. It’s bad enough that I lost the hunt to Kyoko, I can’t back out of this trip at the last second in front of the other council members. I’ll look weak.
Following Ash down the dock, I focus on my breathing, but the nausea only gets worse. If I spend the entire trip with my head hanging over the side of the boat throwing up, there’ll be very little chance of a meaningful conversation with anyone about Avalon, and a very real risk of embarrassing myself. My opportunity to impress the others is slipping away.
The rest of the guests are laughing and boarding the white-and-blue sport-fishing yacht that will take us out to sea. The yacht was clearly built for both speed and luxury.
I grab Ash’s arm. “I can’t go. I can’t get on that boat.”
“Why not? What’s going on?” He leans toward me, brows furrowed.
I swallow the saliva filling my mouth. “The sight of the water, the smell of the fish. It’s making me sick.”
“Really? You love the water.” He gently rubs my back. “I’ll take you back to the castle.”
“No, you have to go. Be Avalon’s representative. Talk to the other council members. Plus, your dad’s here. How often do you guys get to spend an afternoon fishing?”
“I’m not leaving you alone.” The set of his shoulders matches the adamant tone of his voice.
“Ash, Nina, is everything okay?” Reg calls from the boat.
“Nina isn’t feeling well. We’re staying back,” Ash replies.
Elle is following Edmund across the gangplank when she stops and comes back to the dock. “Nina, what’s wrong?” Her delicate face is creased with worry, making me think of Sofie.
“Just a touch of motion sickness, I think. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Ash, I’ll stay back with her. I was only going for Edmund anyway. I would really much rather stay here with Nina.” Elle’s light-blue eyes meet mine. “We can get a cup of tea to settle your stomach and then head back to the castle.”
“That’s nice of you to offer, Elle, but I’ll stay with Nina.” Ash doesn’t move from my side.
“All aboard!” Edmund shouts, popping a bottle of champagne and playing the part of gracious host.
I open the mate bond. You have to go, Ash. It’s important for Avalon’s future. Please, for me.
“I’ll take you up on your offer, Elle. Tea sounds great,” I say, swallowing again and desperately wanting to get off this dock.
Elle walks to the side of the boat. “Edmund, I’m going to stay with Nina. She’s under the weather.”
“Take our car. Feel better, Dolly,” Edmund says, pouring a glass of champagne for Kyoko. “Ash, come on. You’d be daft to miss this. The fishing is bloody excellent.”
“Yes, come on already.” Kyoko takes a sip of champagne and rolls her eyes. “She’ll be fine.”
Go! I say again, using the mate bond.
Ash kisses the top of my head. “Call me if you need me. I’ll jump back to the castle.”
After a reassuring nod, I watch as he crosses the gangplank and joins Reg on the yacht.
Kyoko gives me a mocking finger wave as the boat pulls away from the dock.
As soon as we’re back in the Range Rover and away from the dock, I feel much better. I’m sorry to miss the chance to hobnob with the other council members, but I don’t think barfing on their shoes will make the impression I’m going for. Thankfully, Ash was here to step in for me. Hopefully he’ll have an opportunity to “make friends and influence people” on my behalf.
Elle directs the driver to a village nearby that has a teahouse she swears makes the best scones and clotted cream. Before long, we’re talking over steaming cups of tea and warm blueberry scones.
“So, how did you and Edmund meet?” I ask. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but I’m interested in hearing the story. You two seem very, I don’t know, different.”
Elle’s musical laugh wafts across the table. “Yes, we are different in some ways and quite similar in others. Edmund and I met at a charity function. I run a school, a shelter, really, for underprivileged girls. Girls who are runaways, have drug or alcohol problems or who were kicked out of their homes and left to fend for themselves. Some are also the victims of human trafficking. These girls have nowhere else to go and need help to get back on their feet. Helping these girls is my life’s work. Edmund is a benefactor of many local charities. He cares a great deal about the humans in his territory.”
“That’s incredible work that you do. Really inspirational. I work with children’s hospitals in my territory,” I say.
“Would you like to visit the school with me?” Elle takes a small bite of her scone.
“I would love to.”
“It’s not far from here. We can go right after you finish your tea, and you can tell me all about how you and Ash met.”
On the drive to the school, I send Ash a quick text to let him know where I’m going. Then I give Elle the Ash-and-Nina highlight reel, being careful not to provide too many details. I like Elle, but I’ve learned my lesson on trusting too easily.
After twenty minutes, we turn down an unmarked driveway. The school is situated on an island in the middle of a black-water lake. It’s a large brown brick building, but the entrance facade looks like a country home and is very welcoming. We drive across a covered bridge to the school, and the Range Rover comes to a stop in a small courtyard.
The entrance features fawn-colored stucco covered in dark timber latticework and has a thatched roof. It reminds me of a chalet you might find in the Swiss Alps. “It looks like a gingerbread house.” I study the school through the window, itching to get a look inside.
“Funny you should say that. The name of the school is the Gingerbread Cottage School for Girls.” Elle exits the back of the Range Rover, and I follow suit.
“It’s very peaceful here,” I say, taking in the mixed deciduous and evergreen forest surrounding the school.
“The girls that come here need to heal. They need peace and privacy to do that. Many of them have left violent situations and don’t want to be found. Shall we go inside?” Elle opens the heavy wood door, and I follow her into an inviting entryway with white plaster walls and dark wood trim.
“The main floor is made up of the common rooms—the kitchen, dining and living areas. There are also some offices. Mine is at the end of the hall, but let’s see if there is anyone around.” Elle leads the way into a bright living room where a TV hangs on the wall surrounded by several comfy couches. There are tables and chairs where girls sit doing puzzles or playing board games.
Elle takes me around and introduces me to each of the girls. I shake their hands and commit their names to memory as we make small talk.
The girls are young—ranging in age from around twelve to sixteen. One is visibly pregnant. Some have tattoos, piercings or spacers in their ears. Others look as if they just left a church picnic. But they all have one thing in common—a haunted look in their eyes, as if they’ve seen things they wish to the gods they could unsee. Although I don’t know their stories, as a survivor of sexual abuse and assault—I recognize that look. I’ve seen it in the mirror and know the pain behind it. It makes me very thankful that I have Ash and my friends to love and take care of me. These girls have never had anybody in their corner, and it shows on their faces.
A girl with dyed jet-black hair tosses a puzzle piece on the table and stands up as Elle is about to introduce us.
“This is Danny,” Elle says.
Danny has tattoos on her neck, under her chin and around her hairline. Her cheeks are pierced with silver studs, and she has an anchor tattoo beside one eye. She sniffs and turns her back on me, mumbling something about not needing to meet “no rich-ass bitch” before walking out of the room.
“I’m sorry, Danny just came to us a few days ago. She’s had a rough go of it,” Elle says with a sad smile.
“No need to apologize,” I say, looking through the doorway Danny just left through. I know what it feels like to be angry with those who seem to have all the power in the world when you have none.
