The Faerie's Honeymoon

CHAPTER ONE

THE faerie prince known as Duvall Duvall - very much not his truename, thank you - was bringing his human bride to the world of magic for the first time.

The trip was their honeymoon, their destination the half-magic city of Resurrection in upstate New York. Invisible to most humans, Resurrection was what was known as a “Pocket” city. A number of these had been created by Duvall’s brethren, places where humans and other races could interact to the hopeful benefit of both. As long as the race could play nice with others, the fae granted it visas. Today, Resurrection sheltered shapeshifters, demons, humans with “extra” talents, and quite a number of other beings. The original land of Faerie, whose essence had gone into forming the Pockets, was too often a magical Wild West: lawless, chaotic, and more than even some fae could handle.

Duvall could handle quite a lot. He’d spent the majority of his life in Faerie. His parents ruled the land of Talfryn with a steadier hand than most. If an enemy hadn’t chased him into the human realm, where he’d had the supreme good fortune of meeting his future wife, Duvall expected he’d still reside in the Old Country.

His wife had changed everything, Fate bless her.

At the current moment, his beloved was trying unsuccessfully to wave down a train station porter to help them with their luggage.

“Belle,” he said, gently rubbing the sleeve of her beautiful red wool coat. The suburban platform was open to the winter weather, and - unlike him - she needed the garment for warmth.

“They’re ignoring me,” she said, craning around the other departing passengers. There were more than usual. Humans rarely noticed the Resurrection stop existed. Magic protected it from ordinary sight. Duvall expected the Weretiger New Year celebrations explained the crowd. Any supes who’d scattered beyond the borders would return home for Resurrection’s week-long version of Mardi Gras. Unfortunately for Belle, this meant she had to compete with beings who more naturally drew the station staff’s attention.

She clucked in annoyance as yet another porter rushed to serve someone else. “This is worse than trying to hail a taxi in Manhattan. I knew I shouldn’t have packed everything I own. Now we’ll be stuck lugging the stuff ourselves. How did you get away with just an overnight case?”

Duvall got away with an overnight case because, here in Resurrection, he could magick anything he wanted. Already, he could feel his batteries sucking up ambient power. They hadn’t been able to do that while he was in her world. Now they filled so quickly he was getting a head rush.

“Belle,” he said more firmly, giving her lovely straight hair a tug.

“What?” she said, a hint of a snap in it. A second later, remorse pinched her mouth.

He smiled. Belle sometimes felt guilty for her temper, but he knew the passionate heart it was an outgrowth of. “They can’t see you, sweetheart. As a ... non-magical human, you’re nearly invisible to them.”

“Really?” Belle said, her annoyance fading as her curiosity rose.

“Really. I know it’s inconvenient, but it prevents humans who don’t have an invitation into the Pocket from being accidentally escorted in.”

She peered back at the uniformed porters, most of whom were elves or mixbloods - though that wouldn’t be obvious to her. More spells hid traits like pointy ears or oddly colored skin. Observing nothing peculiar, she returned her gaze to him. At the sight of her dear pretty face, his heart turned over. God, he loved her, from her mysterious dark green eyes to her long straight nose to her wonderful willow-wand figure. Belle’s parents hadn’t exactly built up her self esteem, as humans liked to say on talk shows. His darling didn’t always think of herself as attractive, but she’d become the image of love to him.

Her lips curved as she recognized his expression.“You’re going gooey again.”

“Faeries don’t go gooey,” he said, mostly to see her grin.

She didn’t disappoint, her teeth flashing with the acerbic humor he loved. “Careful, Mr. Duvall. That’s sailing very close to a lie. I wouldn’t want you giving yourself a headache before we reach the hotel.”

“Certainly not before I summon a porter.”

“Can you?” she asked.

Duvall smiled and let his concealing glamour fall.

Duvall’s powers had been substantially curtailed in her realm. Belle had seen him twinkle in shared dreams and in heightened moments of lovemaking. Like all fae, he was out-of-the-ordinary good looking in any reality, enough that he’d thought it best to cover up on the train. As a result, this was Belle’s first glimpse of him fully charged and in his element. While Duvall couldn’t deny he’d been looking forward to showing off for his beloved, he wasn’t prepared for how taken aback she was.

“Wow,” she said a little shakily. “With a heaping helping of gosh.”

Duvall’s stomach went oddly tight. Had he frightened her? Would his alien display cause her to regard him in a less easy light? He didn’t want that. Many races liked to claim faeries were half pride, but Belle was his equal in every way that counted. In truth, Belle was his soul mate.

Before he could decide what to say to make it better, a bowing elf porter rushed over. To go by the gold braid on his uniform, he was the captain of the station’s crew.

“Prince Duvall, sir!” he exclaimed. “Forgive me for not seeing you there. How may I serve you and your companion?”

Elves sometimes resented faeries, who - admittedly - didn’t let them forget they were a few rungs down on the magical power scale. Duvall gave this one points for referring to Belle politely. Elves were much less snobbish than faeries, but even they occasionally snubbed non-magical humans.

“No matter, cousin,” he said, for that’s what elves were to faeries. “We’d like our luggage organized and a limo to transport us to the Downtown Grande. Also, if you could recommend a trustworthy driver, I’d be grateful. This is my wife’s first visit to the city. We’ll probably do some sightseeing.”

The elf’s slanty brows went up a millimeter at him identifying Belle as his wife. Faeries dallied with humans considerably more than they married them.

“I believe we can satisfy you, sir,” he said. “There’s a brand new Spink demon come on staff. Passed the gargoyles’ trust test with flying colors. Darius knows the city and can make sure you and your wife aren’t bothered by riffraff, no matter where you go.”

Duvall hesitated. Trust test notwithstanding, he wasn’t sure he wanted to expose Belle to a demon so early on. He hadn’t forgotten her ear-splitting scream of reaction to her first ghost.

“It is Weretiger New Year,” the elf reminded. “Hard to rent muscle at the last minute.”

This was true. He looked at Belle, whose eyes were as round as saucers. He’d explained to her that some demons lived here, but it wasn’t the same as being driven around by one. “Would you like that? It’ll be safe enough. The gargoyles’ psychic exams are difficult to jigger. Plus, you’d want someone with you if you did any wandering on your own.”

“I’d like to meet a demon,” she said. “I’m just afraid I’ll accidentally do something insensitive. Will it be offended if I say ‘Oh God’?”

The elf burst into a surprised laugh, which he then attempted to cover with a cough.

Duvall searched for a diplomatic way to explain the porter’s amusement, one that wouldn’t reflect too badly on his own kind. He’d known Belle long enough to guess at her ideas of what was fair. “Demons have very strict visas, my beloved, and faeries more or less set the rules for them staying here.”

“You mean the demon wouldn’t dare complain, no matter what I did.”

“Yes,” Duvall admitted with a sigh. “But it’s also probably very grateful to be here instead of its former home. They don’t call them hell dimensions for nothing. It truly might not feel an insult, given that.”

“Spinks aren’t religious,” the elf added, “if sir will pardon my saying so. You can swear to anything you want in front of them. Just be yourself, ma’am. They’ve met enough mundanes to know how you folks are.”

His unthinking use of the pejorative made Belle bite her lip in amusement. Mundane wasn’t the most PC term for non-magical humans. Aware he’d used it once or twice himself, Duvall decided not to kick up a fuss.

“All right,” his beloved said to the elf. “We appreciate your help.”