Crown of Moonlight (Court of Midnight and Deception Book 2) Page 22

  This particular room of the Paragon’s pocket realm—which I was betting was a study of some sort—was a bit of a mish-mash, much like the Paragon himself.

  Of course, there was the necessary desk for anyone involved in fae politics—you needed a place to sign the thousands of papers that were destined to cross through your hands. But rather than something old, or fancy, or leafed with gold or something equally gaudy, the Paragon’s desk was crafted out of thick tree trunks, with rough branches supporting a wooden table top. Both the trunk of the desk and the sturdy branches that made up a chair that was pulled up to the desk appeared to be alive. The chair grew a couple of roses for a headrest while I watched, and the desk grew another supporting branch.

  But just beyond the desk was a massive TV and a beautiful bookshelf that was stuffed with what appeared to be movies and video games.

  An air hockey table was shoved up against a massive gold statue of a dragon head, and a model of a phoenix hung from the ceiling, as did a wooden swing.

  The walls were mostly hidden by massive bookshelves—although a cooking station and racks of rainbow-colored potions took up a large chunk of the far wall. Some of the books, scrolls, and items on the shelves looked old. Like, really old. Like, possibly as old as the Original Creep.

  “You have an awesome study, Paragon,” I said.

  “Thank you!” The Paragon beamed at me. “I am fond of it. Now where is she…Aphrodite?”

  “Mmert?” A pink skinned cat that lacked any fur at all—the Paragon’s much beloved pet cat, Aphrodite—peered over the shoulder of the phoenix model.

  “There you are! Come down, my wild guardian! We have guests.”

  Aphrodite yawned, showing off her white teeth, then hopped off the model—making the bird spin wildly—and into the Paragon’s arms.

  “Oof.” The cat—she was a little overweight—landed on his chest. “Yes, hello. You are as beautiful as always!” He briefly cuddled his pet.

  “Mert,” went the cat as he kept on hugging her.

  “Ahem,” Queen Rime said after several long moments.

  “Ah, yes! That’s right—you’re all here for tea! And I am going to bestow a very rare custom upon you—Aphrodite, our guests need tea!”

  The cat touched her nose to the Paragon’s.

  “Aren’t you sweet?” he said. “Yes, we’ll make a big pot of tea for them all.”

  “Mmert.” Aphrodite leaped from his arms and landed on the ground. She flicked her bony tail straight up, then trotted up to Solis. She sniffed his shoes for a moment, then mine. She took a cursory peek at Verdant, pawed at the tassels on Rime’s boots for a moment, inspected Birch, and finished off with Fell.

  The petty part of me smirked when Aphrodite sniffed Fell’s pant leg and then made a gagging noise.

  “Have you got a good feel for everyone?” the Paragon asked the cat.

  Aphrodite meandered over to the cooking station, where the Paragon was opening a locked cabinet.

  He swung the doors open, revealing shelves of tin tea canisters wrapped in pretty blue fabric, and the cat picked her way through the tea.

  “I’m surprised no one is complaining about drinking tea picked out by a cat,” I said.

  Fell glanced in my direction. “You’re not just savage like an animal, you’re ignorant, too.”

  “Fell,” Solis said in a warning tone.

  “It’s fine, Solis. Ignore his squawking. But I still don’t get this.” I waved my hand at the cat, who was precariously hanging out of the cabinet as she stood with her hind legs on a lower shelf and her front paws hooked on an upper shelf as she sniffed a few tea canisters on the edge there.

  “This is a treat—no—an honor I don’t often bestow upon others!” the Paragon said. “I have asked Aphrodite—with her superior taste and infinite understanding of relationships and emotions—to pick out a tea for our evening together.” He puffed up with pride. “My angel knows best what sort of tea folk need.”

  I watched Aphrodite struggle to heft herself onto the upper shelf so she could begin sorting through the tea tins there. “Ah, yeah, I could go with that,” I said.

  Dimly, in the back of my brain I remembered Hazel Medeis complaining about some unexpected downsides to drinking the Paragon’s tea.

  Just as well I have my latte.

  King Solis leaned in. “As strange as it might be, Aphrodite is very intuitive, and the Paragon asking her to choose for us indicates that we are high in his esteem. It is an honor, despite what one might believe.”

  “Oh, no, I believe it,” I assured him.

  “Mert!”

  “You’ve chosen, have you? Share, Aphrodite. What shall the kings and queens delight in today, hmm?” The Paragon looked at the label on the canister. He stared at it for several long moments, then abruptly reached out and placed his hand on his cat’s back. “Truly, you are the most brilliant, wondrous, and amazing companion a fae could have.”

  Aphrodite purred and jumped out of the cabinet as the Paragon bustled over to a tea machine—the same one he’d purchased for Rigel and me when we’d gotten married, if I wasn’t mistaken.

  The tea machine thing consisted of a glass pot, a metal basket—which the Paragon dumped teaspoon after teaspoon of the tea leaves into—and a fancy base that heated the water, and controlled the brew time and temperature. It was sort of similar to a coffee machine.

  “What tea shall we be blessed with today?” Fell strolled up to the counter as the Paragon put the metal basket in place, put the lid on, and then started the tea.

  Fell tried to pick up the canister to look at the label, but the Paragon plucked it from his hands and tossed it into the cabinet. “Ah-ah—no peeking! Half the fun is figuring out what Aphrodite has picked for you!”

  The Paragon locked the cabinet, then turned around and smiled benevolently at us. “Now, if everyone would sit down.”

  Verdant peered around the study. “Where?” she asked.

  “Oh, good heavens. I almost forgot!” The Paragon playfully smacked his own forehead, then bustled over to a wall of bookshelves. “Let’s see here. Shakespeare’s tragedies…The Brothers Grimm fairy tales…Harry Potter…ahah! Recipe books!”

  The Paragon pulled a recipe book forward on the shelf.

  Something in the wall clanked, and the entire bookshelf shot straight up, disappearing into the ceiling with a gust of air and dropping a dozen books on the Paragon in the process.

  “Ouch!” The Paragon rubbed the top of his head and scowled up at the ceiling. “I ought to adjust that so the spell isn’t quite so enthusiastic. Nonetheless—this way!”

  The Paragon marched through the hole the bookcase had left behind, which led into a new area.

  Rime went first, and when no one else seemed inclined to go after her I went next, followed closely by Solis.

  We walked through about twelve wooden archways that were covered with vine-y plants, and gorgeous flowers that I was pretty sure were out of season.

  Hey, I may be a fae, but plants are not my thing.

  I thought we had gone outside, but when the archways ended I peered around and saw the bright greenspace was entirely enclosed by brick walls and a glass ceiling.

  Green moss covered the ground, and there was a pond with a little waterfall that trickled out of the wall on the far side of the room.

  Colored glass orbs were spread around the garden, and wherever the Paragon passed, the orbs lit up.

  Ferns peeked out of one corner, while rose bushes arranged in front of ivy—which covered that patch of the wall—took up residence across from it.

  The garden seemed like a swirl of concepts—part Japanese garden, part English tea garden, and fully the Paragon’s style.

  Since the only windows were the ceiling, you couldn’t see anything outside except for the cloudy afternoon sky.

  I wonder where the Paragon’s Pocket Realm is relative to the Night Realm—not that it matters. He has dominion here, so he wouldn’t experience our
endless night even if we were next door neighbors.

  I clutched my pumpkin latte closer as I peered around the garden with awe.

  “Come along, come along. The table is over here,” the Paragon called. “Every spot has a plugin for the latest smart technology—including cellphones, tablets, and computers! Though I suppose you lot are all like Killian—unable to admire the genius of this.”

  I crashed between Fell and Birch in my enthusiasm. “Really? How did you do that?”

  The Paragon brightened and rubbed his hands together. “Ah—I forgot! As a citizen of earth, you would appreciate this, Leila! I don’t mind telling you, this took a lot of delicate magic work—and some loose interpretations of patent claims.” He winked at me, then froze. “Ah—the tea finished brewing! Everyone sit down—I’ll be back momentarily. Aphrodite, save my seat.”

  The pink-skinned cat jumped onto a large wooden seat—which was closer to a throne than a chair—as the Paragon trundled off, disappearing through the archways.

  The table was long and wooden. It was partially set with glass vases of brightly colored flowers, teacups and saucers, and empty serving trays. The impressive part of it was the plastic panels that jutted out of the edge of the table at each spot. The panels had cords attached to them, and it looked like all of them were for the newest cellphone models, and a couple of different tablets.

  I was still examining the plastic panel when the scuffle for seats began.

  Rime claimed the wrought-iron garden chair while Verdant chose a plastic chair that was shaped like a gigantic leaf. Birch selected a rustic chair made of rough branches and sticks that still had the bark on them, while I gratefully plopped down in a chair constructed of bamboo and covered with silk cushions. Solis took the chair next to me—a modern wooden design with a thin cushion—leaving Fell with the last spot, a low stool painted to resemble a toadstool.

  Fell scowled at his stool. “Verdant, switch with me,” he ordered.

  Verdant tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Bite me.”

  “It certainly hasn’t taken long for the Night Queen’s foul ways to contaminate you,” Fell sneered.

  “There’s no use pretending we ever got along,” Verdant said. “We might have been temporarily united against Leila, but I have never liked you, and I’ll never forget what you’ve made me do.”

  Fell rolled his eyes. “All these dramatics for such a little deal! Just a hunt once a year, and now I’m the bad guy!”

  “Oh, do shut up, Fell,” Rime snapped.

  Fell gaped at the usually impartial Winter Queen, but did as he was told and sat down.

  We were quiet until the Paragon came bustling back, clutching his giant glass teapot.

  “Do you need help?” I half stood up, the manners my mother instilled in me prodding me to move.

  “No, no. You sit down. This will take just a moment!” The Paragon worked his way around the table, pouring tea in each individual’s porcelain teacup.

  I could have sworn the teapot didn’t have enough in it for everyone, but by the time he reached his chair, he still had plenty left.

  “There. Now we may begin!” The Paragon nodded his head in satisfaction and sat down on his chair.

  Aphrodite sat on the arm of the chair until the Paragon was seated, then she jumped in his lap, and instantly all the silver serving trays filled with food.

  Carrot cake, finger sandwiches, scones, éclairs, and slices of spice cake generously topped with frosting filled up half the trays, while Japanese snacks—I recognized mochi, castella cake, and manju buns—filled up the other half.

  “Queen Rime, I insist you try a sakura mochi cake—I got it because I know you like it,” the Paragon said.

  “You are too kind, Paragon.” Queen Rime served herself a piece of pink mochi cake as the other monarchs loaded up their plates with goodies and added sugar and/or cream to their teacups.

  I smiled benevolently and sipped my latte as I watched.

  Solis glanced at me as he elegantly dropped a sugar cube into his tea. “Don’t you intend to have any, Leila?”

  “Maybe after I finish my latte,” I evasively said.

  Truth was, since the food just appeared like that—and Hazel’s complaints already made me doubt the tea—I wouldn’t touch any of this stuff with a ten-foot pole.

  Yeah, sure, eat food that just magically appeared on a table. The monarchs obviously haven’t read enough fairy tales, because that’s how you get bespelled and then fall asleep for fifty years.

  “I invited you all here today because I am well aware of enmity between a few of you.” The Paragon tucked into a thick slice of carrot cake, though his eyes flicked from Verdant—who was sipping her tea—to Fell—who had just set his teacup down after drinking some.

  “I want to make sure that we’re clear on one thing,” the Paragon continued. “Fight between yourselves all you like, but the moment an innocent gets tangled up in these spats of yours, I will intervene. And you won’t like how I’ll do it.”

  “Please, Paragon,” Fell simpered. “You’re our leader—we should be embarrassed to shame you.”

  “I am not your leader,” the Paragon said. “That role belongs to the fae emperor—if we can ever find a poor wretch capable of filling that position again.”

  “There hasn’t been an emperor in over fifty years.” Birch held his teacup nestled in his hands and blinked at the Paragon. “And you’re the top fae.”

  “I’m a representative,” the Paragon said. “But I hold no power over you, except—perhaps—that I am the strongest fae!” He stuck his chin up with pride a little bit with that statement. “Queen Rime—as fae representative on the Regional Committee of Magic—has more power over you.”

  Does she?

  I glanced around the table, but no one said anything against the statement.

  Huh. I always knew the representatives on the Regional Committee of Magic had a lot of power, which is why it’s those of us on the Fae Ring that get to decide who the rep is. But I didn’t think it was that big of a deal as the representative would act for the betterment of their people.

  Although I suppose now, having a front seat to all the politics, I could see a fae representative purposely striking disadvantageous deals that would affect a Court they dislike.

  Aphrodite stretched her skinny paw high—claws out—and tangled it up in the Paragon’s beard, then yanked.

  “Ouch, Aphrodite—please take more care with your claws,” the Paragon complained.

  “This tea is divine.” Queen Rime stared at the flower pattern on her cup with great concentration.

  “Isn’t it, though? Drink up!” the Paragon cheerfully said. Once he got Aphrodite’s paw out of his beard he saw me, leaning back in my chair and still nursing my latte. “Come now, Queen Leila—join the fun!”

  “I want to finish my pumpkin latte first,” I said. “But everything looks delicious.”

  The Paragon swatted my compliment away. “Does your pumpkin latte happen to be from Starbucks?”

  “Nope—I got this one from my favorite local coffee shop, King’s Court Café.”

  The Paragon perked with interest. “I have not been there before. I shall have to amend that.” He stood and refilled Fell’s teacup, and then Solis’s, the teapot still magically containing enough for both of them, and some leftover. “Here, Queen Rime, allow me to top you off.”

  “Thank you, Paragon,” Rime said in a relaxed tone I had never heard her use before.

  “Back to the point of this afternoon tea. I must inquire to the source of this constant strife between you all. I don’t understand it—you all face a similar set of problems.”

  Similar? He’s got to be joking.

  I hid my scoff in a sip of my latte.

  “Paragon, you wound me!” Fell held a hand to his chest. “In what way am I like them?” He glared openly at me and then Verdant before sipping his tea like a prim-and-proper grandmother.

  The Paragon—ever a gracious h
ost—eyed everyone’s teacups. He got up to add a splash of tea to Verdant’s and Birch’s cups. “Have some self-respect, King Fell.” He eased himself back into his chair and affectionately rubbed Aphrodite’s head. “Everyone knows the fae realms are shrinking—not just in the Midwest, but nation-wide.”

  “The Autumn Realm has stood strong!” Fell set his teacup down with a clack. “I’ll challenge anyone who says otherwise.”

  “Oh, sure it was strong—decades ago, before the rate our realms were attacked dramatically increased.” Birch sighed morosely and moodily stared at his reflection in his tea.

  “The shrinking realms are certainly a problem,” Queen Rime said.

  “A problem? That’s easy for you to say,” Verdant scoffed.

  Queen Rime narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Everyone knows the only reason the Winter Court hasn’t shrunk in years is because your siblings come and help you whenever your ward falters!” Verdant tossed back the rest of her tea. Before she even set her cup down the Paragon was at her elbow, refilling it.

  “I’m not ashamed of the support my siblings and I offer to one another,” Rime said.

  Birch traced the edge of his cup. “Except you’re too high and mighty to help any of us do the same.”

  “Oh please.” Rime snorted like an angry horse.

  That got my attention—because Rime was usually as emotional as a snowman.

  “It’s hardly my fault the lot of you are a bunch of warmongers,” she continued. “If I offered to help, you’d use it as a chance to exploit me.”

  “How could we exploit you when you have all the Winter Courts in North America backing you?” Solis asked.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Leila

  I held my pumpkin latte to my chest as I looked up and down the table.

  The heck? Why is everyone suddenly being open and airing out their dirty laundry?

  “You really should try the tea, Leila,” the Paragon encouraged. “I think you’ll quite like it.”