Devin

Sometimes I regretted having a damn doorbell. You would think being a lord of one of the four fae courts I could command those under me to leave me alone, but there was always something that needed my attention. An endless stream of responsibility.

It had been a long weekend—dealing with humans, arguing with the other court leaders over petty squabbles, beginning the changeling's transformation, though that had been quite a pleasant surprise this year. And now, just when I had gotten home . . .

Whoever was outside had better have something important to say or I would be filleting a faerie. Passing by the hallway mirror, I checked my appearance—my glamour was firmly in place. As usual, I looked impeccably human as the doorbell rang again.

"I'm coming." I continued down the hall and yanked open the door to see one of my Winter Court fae standing there with a chip on her shoulder. "What?"

"I—were you asleep?" Heather's expression had gone from visibly upset to surprised.

"I was trying to, seeing as I hadn't slept since before the party. What is it?"

"Pick a different one," Heather snapped, the previous upset was on her face once more. She flipped her long black hair over her shoulder and stood straight, nearly matching my height with her shoulders squared and her fury on full display.

"Pick a different what?" I crossed my arms and leaned against the frame. "You have one minute to get to the point."

"A different changeling," she said.

"That's not possible, the change has been initiated."

"She's one of my best customers, and she's my friend. She absolutely does not deserve this." Heather shook her head. "She shouldn't even have been a candidate! Pick a different one."

"You know it doesn't work that way. Good-bye, Heather." I tried to close the door, but she stuck her arm inside at the last second.

Her hands became claws. "Your glamour is slipping," I said.

"There has to be another way," she demanded.

"You know there isn't. Don't be stupid; it isn't becoming of our kind."

"At least tell me why." Her voice cracked.

An ache was already starting in my temples. There would always be a soft spot for Heather as one of my more unfortunate changelings. "Come inside."

We entered the sitting room, where I sank into one of the matching black sofas, tossing a lazy gesture for Heather to take the opposite one if she wished to sit. "What's this really about, Heather? Is her situation bringing back bad memories for you?"

The anxious fae remained standing, fidgeting with the zipper on her jacket. "No, it's not that. Thea shouldn't even be a candidate in the first place, who nominated her?"

"Lady Georgina's Summer-Court-pain-in-my-ass found this one. When I agreed to turn the yearly changeling, she was the one who insisted we take turns locating candidates." Recalling the report, I ticked the list off on my fingers. "No family, almost no friends, no strong connections to humanity that can't easily be erased. And compatible traits with the Summer Court. Reckless, impulsive, emotional. They haven't had one in a while, so the changeling was accepted."

"That's not Thea at all." She narrowed her eyes. "Wait. Was Thea the only human there?"

"Of course, she . . ." I said, remembering the obnoxious one who interrupted us. "No."

"Who else?" Heather demanded, and I turned a stony expression her way, ice creeping across the floor from my feet even as the air took on a biting cold. The overhead light flickered.

"You will contain yourself before the Lord of the Winter Court."

Heather closed her eyes, reining in her outburst. "You're right, I'm upset."

"I know," I offered more gently. "Let me think about last night."

The icy hold in my sitting room dissipated. Thea had been all I could see last night. Her affinity was palpable, there was no denying she would have a strong change. But Heather was correct in that there had been another human there.

"A petite blond was with her. She had some affinity as well, I suppose." Though not nearly as strong.

"Short? Tan? Probably a pink manicure?" Heather clenched her fists.

"Yes, yes, and I don't know," I grumbled.

"Candace," she hissed, standing up. "You got the wrong girl!"

"Stand down," I growled, a dangerous glint taking over my expression. Heather flinched.

Heather fell back into the couch, her palms landing on her knees and her knuckles white. "Thea . . ." she whispered.

I felt a small ripple of guilt at Heather's pain, but there wasn't anything I could do about it now. Due to the emotionally volatile nature of the fae, it often felt like half my job was keeping them in check before someone lost control and made a mess that I had to clean up or worse—broke the delicate glamour that shielded us from the humans. That would be a real pain to sort out.

"If it was a mistake, I will look into it," I said.

She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "What if her body rejects the change?"

"It won't."

"How do you know?" she asked.

"Because I sensed her. From outside the building. It was overpowering—I barely noticed it on the other girl." I ran my fingers through my hair. "She's a strong candidate, as far as that's concerned."

Heather shot me a determined look. "Give me permission to tell her about the fae."

"No. She may not have been our intended target but the responsibility to nudge them into our world still falls to me. We won't tell her immediately; that will end poorly."

"If she dies because of this . . ." The muscles in her jaw tightened then relaxed as Heather got off the sofa and strode to the door. She looked at me over her shoulder, as though she had more to say but, instead, she bowed her head sharply as she shut the door behind her. I could hear her motorcycle rev to life a moment later as she sped away.

A decanter of bourbon on the mantel began to look like a tempting dinner. I ignored it and waved away the frost creeping across the room's surfaces. I put on a pot of coffee before sitting down at my desk, opening my computer, and flicking through my emails until I came across Georgina's last message. Dammit. Thea was indeed the wrong human.

My brow creased as I skimmed the report—this Candace Lewis was exactly our usual candidate. Her connection to the human world was weak, her one friendship with Thea being the last string that she would miss were she to be changed. Unfortunately, Candace wasn't the one who'd stood out last night. And hell, did Thea stand out. I'd felt her potential before she'd even parked her van. She exhibited open fascination with Marcel's paintings, and the way she relished every bite on her plate made me remember a time when things could still be new and fascinating. And this wasn't even faerie food—I wondered what expression she would make if that crossed her lips. She breathed life and pleasure with her every movement. Liveliness—was that the nature of a fae from the Summer Court, or was that simply Thea?

I sat back in my chair and frowned. This was a problem. We had nothing on this Thea; she hadn't even offered up her last name. We would have to do this the old-fashioned way. I got up and wandered back to the kitchen to see if the coffee was ready, absently swiping through my call history until I landed on Arthur, my right hand in the running of the Winter Court. He answered immediately.

"What's up, boss?"

"I need you to look into something." I walked upstairs and into my closet, sifting through my dress shirts.

"Sure, what do you need?"

"I want a full background on the changeling." I pulled out a shirt and started matching ties.

"Didn't Georgina give you that? Or do you need something more specific?"

"Ignore Georgina's candidate. We found a natural changeling last night and I need to know what I'm dealing with. Check the gallery's footage for a Thea. I expect the report on my desk by morning."

A pause at the other end. "Of course, Lord Devin."

I tossed my phone on the bed and finished dressing. The solstice was coming, and regardless of who the courts had voted on to become the next changeling, Thea would be the one to change this time. If this girl was as strong as I thought she was, I would need to prepare. We all would, because a natural changeling could become anything, and our courts would have to adjust.