ChicagoLand5 Drink Deep by Chloe Neill

Author:Chloe Neill
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

THE MAD HATTER’S TEA

PARTY

We lifted our hands into the air.

“We can hardly say no to such a sweet in-

vitation,” Jonah dryly said.

The fairy dropped his sword just enough to

allow us to pass, while the one behind us

poked us in the back like cattle until we man-

euvered in the door. Once in the tower, they

shut and bolted the door again and took

point beside us, katanas at the ready.

I’m not sure what I should have expected

to see in a fairy queen’s abode in the top of a

tower. Ancient, dreary furnishings encased

in a thick carpet of dust and spider silk? A

broken mirror? A spinning wheel?

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The round room was larger than it should

have been given the narrowness of the tower,

but it was tidy and decorated with simple

hewn wooden furnishings. A canopy bed sat

across the room, its round, fluted columns

wrapped in flowering vines that perfumed

the air with the scents of gardenias and

roses. A giant table of rough-hewn, sun-

bleached wood sat nearby. There were

draperies of cornflower blue silk along the

walls, but not a window to be seen.

What I thought was a delicate chandelier

hung from the ceiling; on closer reflection, I

realized it was a cloud of monarch butter-

flies. There were no bulbs in the chandelier,

but it glowed with a golden, ethereal light.

And katanas weren’t the only weapons in

play. As I suddenly heard the echoing sound

of a lullaby played on an antique child’s in-

strument, the pressure in the room changed.

A panel of wispy fabric was moved aside on

the canopy bed . . . and she emerged.

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The fairy queen was pale and voluptuous,

with wavy strawberry blond hair that fell

past her shoulders. Her eyes were dusky

blue, and she was barefoot, vullhes pal

dressed in a gauzy, white gown that left

nothing of her curvy form to the imagina-

tion. A crown of laurel leaves crossed her

forehead, and a long, ornate locket of gold

rested between her breasts.

She walked toward us with shoulders back

and an unmistakably regal bearing. I had the

urge to genuflect, but wasn’t sure of the

etiquette. Was it appropriate for an enemy of

the fairies, for a bloodletter, to bow to their

queen?

She stopped a few feet away and I felt the

rush of dizziness again. I pushed it back and

focused my attention on her face.

She looked us over, and after a moment,

raised her hand, palm out. That being their

cue, the guards lifted their swords.

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“And you are?” she asked, a soft Irish lilt in

her voice.

“Jonah,” he said, “of House Grey. And

Merit of House Cadogan.”

She linked her hands together in front of

her. “It has been many years since we al-

lowed bloodletters to cross our threshold.

Perhaps the riddles are not as strong as they

once were. The magic not as concealing. The

guardians not as careful.” Her eyes darkened

dangerously, and I decided I had no interest

in crossing Claudia.

“We have need to speak to you, my lady,”

Jonah said. “And those who offered the

riddle of your location were well rewarded

for it.”

For a moment I saw the same avarice, the

same lust for gold, in her eyes that I’d seen in

the guards.

“Very well, then,” she said. “You are here

to discuss contracts? It seems money is all

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vampires and fae have to speak about these

years.

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