Storm's Heart (Elder Races #2)(3)

Tiago straightened from the wall and planted his hands on his hips. “She’s only been gone four days. What happened?”

Dragos turned to the huge flat-screen on the other side of the room and aimed a remote at it. “Some people have already seen this.”

Tiago turned. The flat-screen came alive to MSNBC morning news. The running ticker tape across the bottom of the screen indicated it was from this morning. The recording was only a couple hours old.

An unsmiling female reporter faced the camera. “It’s a story that could have come straight from a faerie tale—a fictional one, that is. It has captured the imagination just as Marilyn Monroe once captured hearts all around the world. For many years Thistle Periwinkle has been America’s sweetheart and one of the most famous public personages of the Elder Races. She has acted as PR spokesperson for Cuelebre Enterprises since the early 1970s. Both the paparazzi and the public love her. She has graced international magazine covers, made regular TV appearances, and was once a guest on Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show . . .”

Tiago’s brows lowered in a scowl as photos and film clips of Tricks were shown while the reporter spoke. Taken from a wide variety of sources, they showed the petite faerie in different styles over the years. He learned more about her in just a few minutes than he had ever known before.

In one film clip she wore her hair in a Mary Tyler Moore flip. In another, her dark hair was teased and bouffant, à la Monroe, as she winked at the camera. In a third clip from the 1960s, she wore long braids, platform shoes and a tie-dyed minidress. The braids clearly showed delicately pointed ears, long dark gray Fae eyes that were larger than most humans’, high-cheekbones, a snub nose and angular face and a full mouth that was more often than not beaming a wide smile.

This was not going in a good direction. His stomach clenched. He demanded, “Why are they talking about her in the past tense?”

He got shushed by several of the other sentinels who were focused on the screen, their expressions tense. His scowl deepened, but he turned his attention back to the film clip. It cut back to the reporter, who said, “Then just days ago America was shocked when Dark Fae King Urien Lorelle was killed in a freak riding accident . . .”

“Freak riding accident,” Graydon snorted. “Yeah. He accidentally got torn apart by an angry dragon. Oopsie.”

This time Tiago joined in shushing the gryphon. The news segment was just getting relevant.

“. . . and it was revealed that Thistle Periwinkle was in actuality Niniane Lorelle, the long-lost daughter of deceased Dark Fae King Rhian and his Queen Shaylee. Niniane Lorelle had long been assumed dead, but both DNA and magical tests confirmed Thistle Periwinkle’s claim. She was indeed the heir to the Dark Fae throne.” The reporter paused dramatically. “After the break we’ll show the already infamous footage captured last night on a bystander’s cell phone. The clip shows an incident that has left three Dark Fae dead and the heir apparent missing. Posted to YouTube late last night, the video has quickly gone viral. It has taken the Internet by storm and left the Chicago police and Fae authorities asking serious questions. What really happened in that dark Chicago alley last night? Is Niniane Lorelle responsible for the Dark Fae deaths? Where is the heir apparent to the Dark Fae throne? Stay with us.”

Violence fulminated in the room as the scene cut to a toilet paper commercial. “Shit,” said Dragos as he looked at the remote. “Just a sec.”

The commercial went into fast-forward.

Rune said, “She was right about what she said before she left. We need to change how we think of her. We should remember to call her Niniane now.”

Pia said, “She must be so scared.”

The Dark Fae society had been under Urien’s iron-fisted rule for the last two hundred years and had for the most part become closed off from the rest of the world. Tricks—or Niniane, whatever—had gone alone to meet representatives of their government, individuals who had unknown allegiances and motivations.

Tiago shook his head, anger roiling inside. He wrestled it under control before it could slip loose. “I told you some of us should have gone with her!”

“There’s no point in rehashing an old argument,” said Dragos, shooting a glare at him. “Tr—Niniane and I both decided nobody from the Wyr demesne would go with her. Otherwise it would look like the Wyr were making a power play for the Dark Fae demesne.”

There were seven demesnes of Elder Races that overlaid the human geography of the continental United States. The Wyr demesne, which Dragos had ruled for centuries, was based in New York. The seat of Elven power was based in Charleston, South Carolina.

The Dark Fae’s demesne was centered in Chicago, and the Light Fae in Los Angeles. Aside from discrete geographical and political differences, the Dark Fae and the Light Fae were also different in coloring and in manifestations of Power. The Light Fae was a blond, charismatic race, with either blue or green eyes, and they had an aversion to iron. The Dark Fae were black haired with pale skin and gray eyes, and they often had a gift for metallurgy.

The Nightkind, which included all Vampyric forms, controlled the San Francisco Bay Area along with the Pacific Northwest, and the human witches, considered part of the Elder Races due to their command of magical Power, were based in Louisville. Demonkind, like the Wyr and the Nightkind, consisted of several different types that included Goblins and Djinn, and their seat was based in Houston.