“We’ll see.” I resheathed my sword; we were outnumbered, and I didn’t want them getting itchy with their blades.

“Bloodletter,” one of them said. “She has not invited you.”

“She” was Claudia, the queen of Chicago’s fairies.

“No,” I agreed. “She has not. But the woman who came here without her permission is our responsibility. We will apologize and pay the debt incurred by her intrusion.” I looked down at Alexei. “And the debt incurred here, as well.”

Because there was always a debt. It was something vampires and fairies had in common.

There was a beat of silence, and then a woman stepped into the doorway. A human, albeit one dressed in a long tunic-style dress of chalky blue that was more fae than Fifth Avenue. Her skin was pale, her hair cropped and silver, her expression blank.

She stepped up, whispered something to the guards.

After a moment, they resheathed their own blades, stepped aside.

“I am Daphne, Herself’s handmaiden. You may follow me.”

Connor and I looked at each other and stepped into the gatehouse, Alexei behind us.

* * *

“Human, but servant to a fairy queen?” I asked, as we were led through the gatehouse and across the bailey.

“I am here to learn,” Daphne said. “I was offered the opportunity, and I took it.”

“And why did you get the opportunity?” I asked.

She glanced back at me, amusement in her eyes. “You are inquisitive, as Herself has said.”

That was probably the nicest thing “Herself” had said of me. I hadn’t heard that particular title for Claudia before. Maybe it was a human thing.

The castle had been nearly empty the last time I’d been here, most of the fairies having followed Ruadan in their ill-fated quest. But the bailey was alive with activity now, even at night. Torches were lit, and fairies worked at small garden plots, pulling the season’s late vegetables. A smithy worked near the far corner, preparing metal in a forge that appeared to be heated by magical bellows.

No tech was needed for what magic could do instead.

Daphne led us into the keep, through the large common room with its rush-strewn floor and car-sized hearth, and up a set of winding stone stairs.

“Your friend has caused a bit of chaos this night,” Daphne said, and Connor and I exchanged looks at the use of the word. Then Daphne opened a set of carved wooden doors and stepped aside.

It was a throne room. A fire burned at one end, and the wooden ceiling vaulted overhead. The throne itself sat at the other end beneath a bower of flowering trees that appeared to have grown from the wide-planked wooden floor. Fairy magic filled the room, old and iron heavy. Monster was intrigued but stayed down. It loved a fight, but was becoming more discerning about its opponents. And it knew better than to tangle with fairies in their own home.

The queen sat her throne. Beneath the arc of purple flowers, she was statuesque and strawberry blond, her long, wavy hair nearly reaching her waist. Her dress was layers of a gauzy material that left little of her body beneath to the imagination. Her feet were bare.