Ryan Graudin - All That Glows

At first, it’s bewilderment that soils Richard’s sharp features. Then he straightens up and stands. His eyes turn snakelike, slit and suspicious. “Edmund put you up to this, didn’t he? How much did the bugger pay you?”

“It’s not a joke,” I tell him.

“Right.” He laughs. The sound carries all the way up to the vaulted ceiling, where the Greek god Jupiter hovers over his human lover—the pair is as bright as they were when William Kent first painted them. “Look, I don’t know how you managed to get in here, but you should leave. Security’s a bit tight around here. If they catch you, you’ll be in heaps of trouble.”

If only he knew how true his statement really was.

“No, really. I’m your Frithemaeg. . . . Your . . .” I scour my brain for an interpretation, a term he might be able to fully understand. “Your Faery godmother.”

Richard eyes me. Wariness has settled behind his stare, as if he’s having second thoughts about my mental state. “Right. And I’m Father Christmas. Look, I’ll give you one more chance, but I’ve got to call security if you don’t leave.”

Words aren’t enough. I’ll have to show him. I push myself away from the door frame and begin to weave a spell. It’s a small cast, so insignificant that none of the other Fae will be able to sense it. “Inlíhte.”

A Faery light appears, pulsing an otherworldly blue above our heads. Part of me is all relief. There’s no hitch to this spell. It seems that the rest of my magic still functions fine.

So what’s wrong with my veiling spell?

The prince watches the aqua light only a few seconds before he looks away. His face is pale, whited out like a window looking into a blizzard. His shoulders give the barest of shakes.

I let the spell unravel.

“I won’t hurt you,” I begin. “It’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe.”

Richard blinks and his face starts to thaw. “That—that was magic you used? Real magic?”

“Yes,” I say slowly.

“Shit. I’ve gone crazy,” he mutters, and rakes his hands through his hair. A slightly maniacal laugh escapes him as he turns away from me, hands still gripping the top of his head.

“You’re not. Crazy, I mean. I’m quite real.”

Richard stands motionless for a long minute, his back still to me. Without the veiling spell or a crowd between us, I feel naked. Exposed.

“You’re a Faery ? But where did you come from?” He finally turns and lets his arms fall. “I mean, aren’t you supposed to have a wand and wings or something? And aren’t you supposed to be an old lady?” Richard pauses, looking me up and down, like he’s really seeing me for the first time. “You’re quite beautiful.”

I know I’m attractive—most Fae are—but to hear Richard say it feels strange, off-key. “One of us is always here with you. You just can’t see us.”

“Always? So, like, an invisible stalker?”

I clear my throat. The process does sound a bit creepy when I explain it out loud. “It’s for your protection.”

“Protection? Protection against what ?” The prince looks around the room, eyeing the maroon drapes as though some mysterious predator might leap out of their rich folds.

“Soul feeders. Green Women, Banshees, Black Dogs . . .” I stop the list short. Best to keep the explanation simple, so Richard doesn’t become more confused than he already is. “Basically any immortal that feeds off of death. They get their strength from hunting down mortals.”

“This has to be a joke.” There’s panic in his voice, in his aura. The prince starts moving closer to me, in the direction of the door.

“Where are you going?”

He doesn’t stop at my question, only calls over his shoulder as he enters the hallway. “Well, I suppose if you actually have to follow me everywhere then you’ll find out.”

I have to walk twice as fast to keep up with the prince as he jets down the corridor. He strides furiously, blindly—tearing past rich oil paintings and priceless ornamental statues. I scan the halls anxiously as I keep up, looking out for any other Fae. It wouldn’t do for them to see Richard speaking to me.

But we don’t cross paths with any other immortals. Much of the palace is empty at this hour. The only other soul we pass is a maid, her feather duster dancing over one of the many marble busts.

Richard doesn’t slow until he’s wheeled his way into the kitchen. The room is empty and dark. The prince doesn’t bother switching on a light as he starts opening cabinets.

“Where is it?” I hear him muttering through the clash of stainless-steel pots.

In contrast to most of the palace, the kitchen is all modernity. Gleaming metal appliances and black tile floors. The only evidence of the Old World lies in its Italian marble countertops. I lean against one of these and fold my arms to watch the show. Did I expect anything less of a mortal so far removed from Camelot? In their minds, my kind is a thing found only in movies and children’s tales. It will take more than my word and a bobbing light to convince him otherwise.

The cacophony of pots and pans only grows louder as Richard moves to the next cabinet. He’s almost waist deep when the room’s lights suddenly flicker on.

“Can I help you find something, Your Highness?” The maid we passed in the hallway stands in the doorway, feather duster planted in her hand.

There’s a curse and another loud crash as Richard pulls himself out of the storage space. He wipes his hair out of his face and pulls off a charming smile—the kind reserved for press and paparazzi. “Oh—er—hello, Marie. I was looking for some refreshments for me and my friend here.”

“For who?” the maid looks around the kitchen, not bothering to hide her frown. Her eyes glaze right over me.

Strange. I have no trouble staying out of her senses. It’s not my veiling spell that’s the trouble. It’s my veiling spell for the prince.

But why him?

Richard freezes. “You can’t see her? She’s right there!”

The creases of the maid’s chin multiply as her frown deepens. “Your Highness, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The horrible silence lasts a few seconds before Richard’s grin reappears. He laughs, a sound that, if I didn’t know otherwise, would be entirely convincing. “I’m just fooling around, Marie. I know there’s no one there. I was, however, serious about the refreshments. Do you know where they are?”

The old lady shakes her head. “I’m sorry, sir, I can’t help you. You know what your father would do if he knew.”

“Right. Well. I hereby absolve you of all responsibility. I’ll find it myself. Have a good night.” Richard waves and stands up from the cabinets. A clear dismissal.

The maid edges out of the door, giving the prince one last strange look before she vanishes into the hallway.

“Why can’t she see you?” His question is a hiss, so low even I have trouble hearing it.