Ammo than Macy’s. “This is so not me.”
“Marissa,” said Liam. “I’ve got a ton of questions, so I suggest you
take your time
.” He nodded to the doorman, whose dour expression said he didn’t appreciate Liam’s presence any more than a wad of chewed gum.
The doorman clipped the rope behind me, and, hand on my back, guided me down the hall and around the back of the court, to the spa. I turned to cast one pleading look to Liam. “Mr. Doorman, aren’t you going to stay and make sure Liam—”
At the velvet rope, an identical copy of the doorman stood, hands behind his back, nodding to Liam as he spoke. I glanced back to where the doorman stood beside me. He shrugged. “Consider me an excellent multitasker. I’ll get to work on your feet immediately.” He ushered me to a salon chair, then shook his head,
tsk
ing. “I haven’t seen this much dead skin since the last zombie invasion.”
• • •
AFTER THE PEDICURE , after the thermal spa, after a haircut and facial massage, after more time with a chocolate fountain than should be legal, I finally gathered my clothes. Well, I tried to. When I opened the bag, my normal clothes were gone. The outfit that remained was silk, long sleeved, with onyx buttons, that fit like it had been tailored to me.
I tried them on, admiring myself in the mirror, while the doorman nodded appreciatively. “Do you like them?”
“Love them.
Love
is the word.” I wondered why Ari never came here.
The doorman smiled, a wide grin splitting his round, fat face. “I knew you would. They are a gift from your queen.”
I bolted for the tunnel leading out of the court, leaving my bag, my purse, everything behind as I raced for the door. I came to the velvet rope and skidded to a stop.
There, Liam lounged in a leather recliner, watching what looked to be next year’s Super Bowl on a plasma TV the size of the wall. Beside him, the doorman rested in an identical recliner, sharing a bowl of popcorn as he droned on, talking with his hands as much as his mouth.
The doorman looked up at me and leaped to his feet, brushing popcorn off. “You forgot your purse, handmaiden.” He reached down behind his podium and brought it out.
Liam sat up in his chair, set down the frosted mug of beer in his hand, and wiped his face. “You need to hear this, M.” He nodded to the doorman.
“Your fiancé asked, quite politely, where the queens are.”
You would think that in all that time, it would have occurred to me to wonder why I didn’t run into any of them. I’d chalked it up to good luck, but, in retrospect, that’d never been my kind of luck. “And?”
“None dare enter the court. For now, we operate under the standing rules from the old High Queen. The first to enter lays claim to her title.”
Ari steadfastly refused to discuss the court every time I brought it up. If getting there first laid claim, I figured we’d have queens camped outside the door like some sort of Black Friday sale. “So why isn’t anyone here?”
“The first to lay claim will face the rest as challengers, unless they have already given their allegiance. So, I would expect they are preparing.” The doorman turned to look into his empty domain. “Aligning, arranging. The one who gains the support by admission of all the others will be the new High Queen.”
A chill sent every hair on my body to full alert, as a possibility occurred to me. I’m certain the look showed through, because Liam gently took my arm, pulling me closer. I took a breath, then spoke. “Was Isolde ever High Queen?”
At her name, the doorman turned back to me, a look of displeasure on his face. “Isolde never cared for my comforts. My rules limited her too much, and she valued her power above all else. When you arrived, wearing her ring, I assumed that you would serve as her representative.”
Liam scratched his chin, making a sound like sandpaper as his fingers rubbed the stubble. “What do you mean,
“Marissa,” said Liam. “I’ve got a ton of questions, so I suggest you
take your time
.” He nodded to the doorman, whose dour expression said he didn’t appreciate Liam’s presence any more than a wad of chewed gum.
The doorman clipped the rope behind me, and, hand on my back, guided me down the hall and around the back of the court, to the spa. I turned to cast one pleading look to Liam. “Mr. Doorman, aren’t you going to stay and make sure Liam—”
At the velvet rope, an identical copy of the doorman stood, hands behind his back, nodding to Liam as he spoke. I glanced back to where the doorman stood beside me. He shrugged. “Consider me an excellent multitasker. I’ll get to work on your feet immediately.” He ushered me to a salon chair, then shook his head,
tsk
ing. “I haven’t seen this much dead skin since the last zombie invasion.”
• • •
AFTER THE PEDICURE , after the thermal spa, after a haircut and facial massage, after more time with a chocolate fountain than should be legal, I finally gathered my clothes. Well, I tried to. When I opened the bag, my normal clothes were gone. The outfit that remained was silk, long sleeved, with onyx buttons, that fit like it had been tailored to me.
I tried them on, admiring myself in the mirror, while the doorman nodded appreciatively. “Do you like them?”
“Love them.
Love
is the word.” I wondered why Ari never came here.
The doorman smiled, a wide grin splitting his round, fat face. “I knew you would. They are a gift from your queen.”
I bolted for the tunnel leading out of the court, leaving my bag, my purse, everything behind as I raced for the door. I came to the velvet rope and skidded to a stop.
There, Liam lounged in a leather recliner, watching what looked to be next year’s Super Bowl on a plasma TV the size of the wall. Beside him, the doorman rested in an identical recliner, sharing a bowl of popcorn as he droned on, talking with his hands as much as his mouth.
The doorman looked up at me and leaped to his feet, brushing popcorn off. “You forgot your purse, handmaiden.” He reached down behind his podium and brought it out.
Liam sat up in his chair, set down the frosted mug of beer in his hand, and wiped his face. “You need to hear this, M.” He nodded to the doorman.
“Your fiancé asked, quite politely, where the queens are.”
You would think that in all that time, it would have occurred to me to wonder why I didn’t run into any of them. I’d chalked it up to good luck, but, in retrospect, that’d never been my kind of luck. “And?”
“None dare enter the court. For now, we operate under the standing rules from the old High Queen. The first to enter lays claim to her title.”
Ari steadfastly refused to discuss the court every time I brought it up. If getting there first laid claim, I figured we’d have queens camped outside the door like some sort of Black Friday sale. “So why isn’t anyone here?”
“The first to lay claim will face the rest as challengers, unless they have already given their allegiance. So, I would expect they are preparing.” The doorman turned to look into his empty domain. “Aligning, arranging. The one who gains the support by admission of all the others will be the new High Queen.”
A chill sent every hair on my body to full alert, as a possibility occurred to me. I’m certain the look showed through, because Liam gently took my arm, pulling me closer. I took a breath, then spoke. “Was Isolde ever High Queen?”
At her name, the doorman turned back to me, a look of displeasure on his face. “Isolde never cared for my comforts. My rules limited her too much, and she valued her power above all else. When you arrived, wearing her ring, I assumed that you would serve as her representative.”
Liam scratched his chin, making a sound like sandpaper as his fingers rubbed the stubble. “What do you mean,
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