enough.”
“Reign, this can’t be allowed to continue. If you don’t do something, I’ll go back down there with my cell phone and take pictures. I’ll tell the world.”
“You can’t.” Head bowed, watching his fingers work, he continued to avoid looking at me. I might have thought he was ashamed, if I believed rock star Reign was capable of shame.
“Why not?”
“You can’t get in without me, and neither can the human authorities.” He looked up and held my gaze, all trace of smug-ass fae gone. “Don’t you think they’ve tried? Your government don’t want us in London any more than we want to be here, but they can’t get to us to evict us. Under’s roots go deep.”
“So, what? We do nothing?”
“I’m working on something.” He pulled back and shifted sideways in the booth, resting a shoulder against the wall, so he could stretch a leg along the seat, knee bent. How could he look so relaxed after everything we’d seen, after what he’d just told me? “What?” He blinked. “You’re giving me the look.”
“What look?”
“The look that says you believe I’m lying.” He circled a finger at his face. “A half-frown arched-eyebrow semi-smile-kinda look.”
A hint of a smile lightened my lips. “I wasn’t aware I had a look.”
“You do with me.”
“Then I must think you’re lying a lot, because that’s my default face.”
He smiled, but the humor in it fled before reaching his eyes. “I
do
have a plan.”
“And you can’t tell me because?”
He hesitated. “I fear to do so would put you at greater risk.”
I gave him
the look
. “It’s because of you I’m at risk.”
“I don’t think so. It wasn’t coincidence you were on that platform when I needed you.”
I crossed my arms and slumped back in the seat. “Sure it was. I was on my way home.”
“Why did you get off the train?” He asked it casually, feigning interest in the TV, as if the answer didn’t matter.
“Huh?”
“You live in Mile End. So why get off at Chancery Lane at all?” A little more weight settled behind that question. The answer did matter, and the slight narrowing of his eyes confirmed it.
“I …” Why did I get off the train? He was right, I should have stayed on. It hadn’t even occurred to me that my actions didn’t make sense. “I don’t know. I just … The train …” I tried to remember why I’d stepped from the train at Chancery Lane, but the memory flitted away, slippery and quick. Squeezing my eyes closed, I fought to recall the moment. I went back further, to the late-shift meeting with my boss, less than an hour before, when I’d been fired. I’d left the
Metro
offices, caught the train home, and—“I can’t … I don’t remember.” Opening my eyes, I frowned at Reign’s grave face. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t know exactly. Why don’t you tell me? The queen sent her construct to retrieve you—not something she’d do lightly, given how difficult it must be for her. Last night, she said you were hers. What do you think she means?”
I scoffed. “Obviously, I’m not hers, or anyone’s. I’m a nobody; I do my nine-to-five job, live my life, that’s all. I don’t know any fae or have any secrets. I told you, I have no idea what’s happening.” He tried my
look
on for size and shot it right back at me. “Reign, before I met you, I’d never even seen a fae up close.” My heart fluttered and a fleeting sense of unease undermined my bravado.
This isn’t about me. It’s not.
There would be a reasonable explanation. I just needed to think, to remember, that was all. “Why would I lie?”
Hesitating, he mulled over my words, testing their authenticity. “I saw your face when the spiders swarmed you. You weren’t faking it.”
“Thanks, I think. But this isn’t about me. It’s about you.” I lowered my voice, “It all comes back to why you were near death on that platform.”
Reign twisted in his seat and rested an arm on the
“Reign, this can’t be allowed to continue. If you don’t do something, I’ll go back down there with my cell phone and take pictures. I’ll tell the world.”
“You can’t.” Head bowed, watching his fingers work, he continued to avoid looking at me. I might have thought he was ashamed, if I believed rock star Reign was capable of shame.
“Why not?”
“You can’t get in without me, and neither can the human authorities.” He looked up and held my gaze, all trace of smug-ass fae gone. “Don’t you think they’ve tried? Your government don’t want us in London any more than we want to be here, but they can’t get to us to evict us. Under’s roots go deep.”
“So, what? We do nothing?”
“I’m working on something.” He pulled back and shifted sideways in the booth, resting a shoulder against the wall, so he could stretch a leg along the seat, knee bent. How could he look so relaxed after everything we’d seen, after what he’d just told me? “What?” He blinked. “You’re giving me the look.”
“What look?”
“The look that says you believe I’m lying.” He circled a finger at his face. “A half-frown arched-eyebrow semi-smile-kinda look.”
A hint of a smile lightened my lips. “I wasn’t aware I had a look.”
“You do with me.”
“Then I must think you’re lying a lot, because that’s my default face.”
He smiled, but the humor in it fled before reaching his eyes. “I
do
have a plan.”
“And you can’t tell me because?”
He hesitated. “I fear to do so would put you at greater risk.”
I gave him
the look
. “It’s because of you I’m at risk.”
“I don’t think so. It wasn’t coincidence you were on that platform when I needed you.”
I crossed my arms and slumped back in the seat. “Sure it was. I was on my way home.”
“Why did you get off the train?” He asked it casually, feigning interest in the TV, as if the answer didn’t matter.
“Huh?”
“You live in Mile End. So why get off at Chancery Lane at all?” A little more weight settled behind that question. The answer did matter, and the slight narrowing of his eyes confirmed it.
“I …” Why did I get off the train? He was right, I should have stayed on. It hadn’t even occurred to me that my actions didn’t make sense. “I don’t know. I just … The train …” I tried to remember why I’d stepped from the train at Chancery Lane, but the memory flitted away, slippery and quick. Squeezing my eyes closed, I fought to recall the moment. I went back further, to the late-shift meeting with my boss, less than an hour before, when I’d been fired. I’d left the
Metro
offices, caught the train home, and—“I can’t … I don’t remember.” Opening my eyes, I frowned at Reign’s grave face. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t know exactly. Why don’t you tell me? The queen sent her construct to retrieve you—not something she’d do lightly, given how difficult it must be for her. Last night, she said you were hers. What do you think she means?”
I scoffed. “Obviously, I’m not hers, or anyone’s. I’m a nobody; I do my nine-to-five job, live my life, that’s all. I don’t know any fae or have any secrets. I told you, I have no idea what’s happening.” He tried my
look
on for size and shot it right back at me. “Reign, before I met you, I’d never even seen a fae up close.” My heart fluttered and a fleeting sense of unease undermined my bravado.
This isn’t about me. It’s not.
There would be a reasonable explanation. I just needed to think, to remember, that was all. “Why would I lie?”
Hesitating, he mulled over my words, testing their authenticity. “I saw your face when the spiders swarmed you. You weren’t faking it.”
“Thanks, I think. But this isn’t about me. It’s about you.” I lowered my voice, “It all comes back to why you were near death on that platform.”
Reign twisted in his seat and rested an arm on the
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