Present time.
THE CLUB THAT HER MOTHER’S client had wanted to meet at was high class. Beatrix almost breathed a sigh of relief when she walked in and found people dressed similarly to her--she didn’t own traditional “club” attire, unless she counted that skimpy red number that Adira had cheerfully shoved into her arms one morning after raiding the Southside Mall’s new Nordstrom outlet. She had shoved herself into a sleek cocktail dress, the strappiest pair of heels she owned, and called it finished when she walked out the door. However, leaving her hair down had not been a good idea; the long, ash gray strands kept getting caught on her necklace and other people’s hands. And if that weren’t enough, there were pixies flitting around, dousing people in sparkling dust that made every glance around almost painful under the strobe lights.
“Lady Ashfield,” the bartender greeted her when she sidled up to the bar, brushing pixie dust from her hair. “Your client is seated at the back table under the hanging roses. You can’t miss him.”
A quick glance over confirmed that no, she couldn’t miss the ethereal being who, quite literally, outshone the pixies. Standing around him, almost like statues, were guards, each of them wearing crests that she couldn’t make out from that distance. She cursed her mother for not briefing her on the client’s identity beforehand and nodded to the bartender before squeezing her way through the crowd to the table.
The guards stopped her before she could even get within a foot of the table.
“ID, ma’am.”
Ma’am. That was a first for her. Slightly bewildered, she fished her license out of her purse, holding it up for their inspection wordlessly. They each took turns examining it, even flicking a spell over it to check its authenticity--she was almost offended--before handing it back to her and almost pushing her through the barrier they had created. She stumbled, almost breaking her ankle on the sky high heels she wore, and caught herself on the edge of the table with a grimace.
Already, she was regretting ever coming.
“I apologize for them, Lady Ashfield.” Her eyes widened at the smooth baritone and slightly shy threads woven throughout. She straightened herself abruptly and found her client staring at her, his painfully beautiful face pulled into an expression of irritation. “They do not approve of my being here.”
“That’s quite alright.” The years of training her mother had beat into her with spells and ring-studded fists came in full force. She bowed slightly at the waist and took the seat across from him, holding her folio tightly to her chest. “Places like this can get dangerous if you aren’t careful.”
“You’re not wrong.” Bright yellow eyes, framed by unusually white lashes, glimmered slightly with amusement. “I am Prince Elion of the Northern Fae. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Ashfield.”
Beatrix felt the almost nauseating wave of magic crawl over her and cling to her like second skin. She had been told before by different Fae that if they had given her their real names, that magic would interfere with her mind and force her to provide her true name. It was almost like an eye for an eye deal, but with the Fae it was almost worse--they had no last names to use against them, just the identity they provided with their real names. And unlike the tales that humans spun, they could lie--almost so flawlessly it was as if they were telling the truth.
“Beatrix Ashfield.” She lifted her hand for him to shake. Being violated by Fae magic wasn’t going to stop her from expressing proper manners. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Prince Elion.”
He seemed only slightly apologetic when she waved for a waitress to bring her something to drink. “Sorry. This is very sensitive information and I’d rather it not get out to the masses if I can help it.”
“I would say you chose the wrong place for sensitivity…” she eyed the guards,”But that would be rude. I’m afraid I am oblivious to the reason for your meeting tonight, Prince Elion. My mother, Allegra Ashfield, only provided me with your alias and a place.”
Prince Elion tilted his head. She watched, fascinated, as his eyes shifted from that interesting yellow to a placid blue. “Perhaps that was for the better. You came here without a bias and opinion, which, in my situation, is ideal.”
“I…” Beatrix squinted and accepted the tumbler of whiskey that the waitress handed her. “I’m not getting involved in anything illegal, am I? I’m not accusing you of doing anything illegal, but you must understand how this sounds--”
“Only if you count a Fae prince getting married to a human illegal.”
The whiskey stopped its path down her throat and burned the entire way down.
“I’m sorry?” she croaked.
“It’s why I’m here.” Prince Elion laughed quietly at her struggle to down the rest of her drink without choking. “My wife wants you--or your mother--to design her wedding dress.”
Beatrix’s mind rapidly conjured up images of a traditional Fae wedding; wedding dresses were not the key item in those. If she remembered correctly, nudity was preferred. Actually, desired. She set her glass of whiskey down and furrowed her eyebrows. Since her professional appearance was already blown sky high, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to be blunt.
“Your human wife wants a very human dress at a very Fae ritual.”
He at least found it funny, if the chuckle was anything to go by. “Yes, as bizarre as it sounds. Several human traditions will be incorporated into the ceremony.”
“And, as a prince, this is accepted?” Beatrix allowed her curiosity to get the better of her. The Fae, especially the Northern kingdoms, were extremely mysterious and hidden underneath a powerful shield. All of her basic knowledge was about the marriage rituals they had and even that was secondhand information. This was a golden opportunity to learn about their ways. “I am hard pressed to find that the rulers of the North are happy about this arrangement.”
“I am not the first in line.” Prince Elion shrugged loosely. He wasn’t as nearly as elegant as Citrine, but he was pretty close. “I’m the sixth. So even if I was considered, there are five other brothers before me to go through.”
“I see.” Beatrix scanned his face and, noting the slight pull of his mouth, decided to change topics. She whipped out her folio and pulled out a small notepad she had shoved inside the pocket. “Your wife, what is she like?”
“Liuyue is… radiant.” Elion leaned back into the booth. “I have never met a human like her before. She is the epitome of the word “bright”.”
Beatrix scratched down ‘radiant’ and ‘bright’ with a giant question mark between both. “What are her tastes in normal clothing? Or do you know?”
“She never accepts the royal garments I gift to her.” Elion almost looked as if he was pouting at that. Beatrix had to smother a laugh. “She says they’re too expensive for a human to wear.”
“I’m guessing she came from a poor background?”
“That’s not even the half of it.”
For the next hour, the prince proceeded to brief her on his to-be wife’s preferences and background. Beatrix had filled up nearly three pages of her notepad, front to back, and eventually gave up and just decided to listen. The Fae was clearly smitten with the human woman and even showed her pictures of her under the guise of Beatrix getting an idea of her figure when he just wanted to gush some more. Clearly, he didn’t get the chance to do that very often, and she was happy to be the listening ear. It helped when coming up with inspiration for designing a gown; she wanted this human woman to knock this Fae prince’s socks off at the ritual tree.
His wife, Liuyue, was a stunner--for a human. She would most likely be plastered all over magazines if she wasn’t becoming a princess of a supernatural kingdom. She was clearly Asian, most likely Chinese--Beatrix had only ever met one of the Asian Dragons and that one had been unusually affectionate with her. She remembered Shenlong fondly, but she had no desire to live in a palace constantly buffeted by rain storms and powerful winds. He still sent her flowers on her birthday, the sweet dragon, and even remembered her favorites each time. Liuyue reminded her of him, even if the resemblance was only in the piercing gaze they both had.
Prince Elion stretched and waved for one of his guards to come over when he finished speaking for the moment. “Jin, please show Lady Ashfield those photos that Liuyue showed you when she was looking for dresses. They might help her out a bit.”
While the guard was swiping through photos on his phone, Beatrix glanced towards the bar in the hopes of catching another waitress’s eye. Instead, she was ensnared in someone else’s--her entire body stiffened the moment she recognized the stare of a predator.
Green. And not the kind that was flecked with golds or browns or even blues. This was pure, saturated, as bright as spring leaves, with a pupil as narrow as a cat’s. They were set into a gorgeous face, framed with lashes that rivaled the prince’s in whiteness, and accented with dark, glittery eyeshadow that made them that much more striking. His hair was just as white and had been raked away from his face with a devil may care roughness to it, and had been sprinkled with a healthy dose of pixie dust.
Beatrix felt her spit dry up in her mouth when he winked at her and sipped his drink. He never broke the stare with her, but she forced herself to anyways, looking back over at the guard who shoved his phone in her face with pictures of wedding gowns pulled up from the messages app.
She smiled shakily and sketched them onto her notepad for reference, even as her spine tingled uncomfortably and she became too warm to be comfortable. She was keenly aware of those eyes still staring at her from across the bar, their owner still sipping his drink leisurely. It had never happened to her before, this sense of being waited out like prey. She was usually the one playing the predator to someone else’s prey. And yet… there was something interesting there.
But she wouldn’t be exploring it tonight.
“--should move to one of the private rooms,” a guard was suggesting when she zoned back into the conversation. “Lady Liuyue will be arriving soon. She was delayed in traffic.”
“What do you think, Lady Ashfield?” Prince Elion asked her.
Confused at what was going on, she could only answer,”Yes,” and gathered up her things to follow the prince and his guards up the stairs.
And with every step, she felt that predatory stare follow her.
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