“Up in the Air” Chapter Two… One More to Go Before the Official Launch!

In posting chapter two of “Up in the Air,” I’m finding that all I want to do is yap on about chapters three through 19. And I can’t. Which makes me slightly cranky.

Nobody likes a cranky writer. We’re obnoxious enough when we’re happy.

(It’s true. I can admit it.)

So I’m going to find a median between what I want to do and what I should do today, and just post the back-cover description of “Up in the Air.” It doesn’t give away anything you don’t figure out by chapter three anyway, which I’ll post on Wednesday.

That’s my justification, and I’m sticking to it! So here goes…

“Facing fears isn’t easy. But it sure can be rewarding

“Six months ago, Sabrina did some serious damage to the HPAC. Since then, she’s been busy throwing herself into the role of faerie princess, which includes some crash courses in foreign affairs. And not the fun kind, thanks to a playboy Italian prince. It’s a good thing she isn’t interested in him considering exactly what his real intentions are for her.

“Following the trail of international betrayal leads her right back to some shade-sporting bigots she’d really rather never see again, along with a startling discovery about her dead parents. When the intrigues just keep coming, Sabrina has to figure out what little faeries are made of... and exactly how much power she has at her disposal when she’s free to fly.”

So toward that very goal, here’s chapter two!

Chapter 2

“S

ay something to distract me,” Sabrina ordered after a mere minute’s walk down the hallway in the direction of the dance studio.

Gerard and Simon followed behind her, matching her pace perfectly right down to her footsteps, which forced her brain to count out a terse beat of “One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.”

Try as she did, every time she practiced her dancing, she found herself focusing too much on the footwork and not enough on the actual dance. In so doing, she usually messed herself up and definitely never relaxed. It looked like today was going to be worse than normal considering how far in advance she’d started counting before the music began playing. That was why she needed a diversion of some sort.

She should have known Dallas wasn’t the one to fulfill that particular request.

“Erm,” he stalled, his wings fluttering enough to create a small breeze around them. “Are you okay?”

“No.” It came out sounding something very close to snappish. “I’m freaking out. Which is why I need you to distract me.”

The exceptionally concerned look he shot her ended up doing the trick, but in all the wrong ways. Sabrina knew exactly where his mind went. He’d assumed she was having a flashback to her time with Stewart; and thanks to him, now she was. On top of the worries she’d already been dealing with.

That nervous energy channeled into pure crankiness, pushing her to go for broke with unflinching candor. It wasn’t her usual style, but when motivated enough, she could get brutally honest.

With his simple and yet very complex question, Dallas had propelled her over the line, and Sabrina let him know in no uncertain tones. “You have to stop that.”

“Stop what?” His face now showed a sort of panicked confusion.

“Looking at me like that.” She came to a halt right there in the middle of the hallway, grateful that nobody but her bodyguards were around. If there had been, she knew she would have held her tongue, and she had to acknowledge how good it felt to vent. “You’re treating me like my entire world revolved around what they did. I’m trying to get over it. I really am. But you giving me that sad, pitying look all the time isn’t helping.”

“I’m sorry.”

She knew he meant the apology about as sincerely as anyone could. The crestfallen pull at his eyes and mouth sent her irritation skittering to the side in favor of a humongous heaping of guilt for making him feel bad. Without the aid of her righteous indignation, her motivation to discuss difficult topics fell by the wayside.

All the same, she had little choice but to proceed. “I know you don’t mean to make things worse, but you taking that tone and regarding me like that just makes me remember it more than I already am. I want you to treat me like I’m me, not like I’m some fragile victim.”

Sabrina watched a drastic set of emotions play across Dallas’ face. She saw the way his fists clenched and unclenched several times at his side, signifying that he might not be able to meet her request as easily as she wanted him to.

She persisted anyway. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

It practically came out as a prayer, a desperate request for understanding. If a person could be killed with kindness, she was sure Dallas would have taken her out months ago.

When he still didn’t respond, she took a deep, calming breath and started walking, not bothering to wait for his brain to keep up any more than she did his feet. And when he was at her side again, she threw him a bone.

“Look, if being my escort tonight is going to be too difficult for you to handle, I hereby absolve you of your duties. It was sweet of you to step in, but I’m sure I can find someone else.” The truth was Sabrina had no idea whether that was possible or not, but she cared too much about him and her own sanity to distress either of them further if there was some way around it.

He blinked, clearly taken aback. “Why would I not want to escort you?” His brain must have still been working to process everything, because in the next breath, his eyes went about as blank as he could possibly make them, and his tone became flat. “Unless you don’t want to go with me.”

None of his carefully closed-off walls meant Sabrina didn’t understand she’d just hurt his feelings. It set her own emotions on another unplanned turn, which wasn’t at all unusual around him. Her attitude toward Dallas switched a lot. She couldn’t even blame her kidnapping trauma for that; he’d had that effect on her right from the start.

“You’re impossible,” she informed him, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Do you know that?”

“I’m sorry?” He was right back to not knowing what to say.

That was it. She gave up. “Come on. Let’s just go dance.”

“Do you still want me to distract you?”

“Sure,” Sabrina agreed amiably enough. “Why not. Watcha wearin’ tonight? Some snooty faerie designer I’ve never heard of?”

She was relieved to hear him laugh at that, the sound just as genuine as every other attitude he’d displayed in the last five minutes.

“Aerifeth. That’s what I normally wear to these things.”

Sabrina nodded despite not recognizing the brand. Her experiences in Faeriedom were still rather limited since she didn’t like straying too far from the automatic protection and comfort the palace offered. Fortunately for her, there were plenty of things to do in her new home. Even the dance studio she’d been practicing at was safe and sound inside her brother’s beautiful fortress.

Ten hallways later, they’d arrived at their destination; and seven minutes more meant she was in Dallas’ arms, gliding across the floor as best as she could to a beautiful and intricate tune. The original piece was by a legendary composer, who wasn’t anywhere so human as his fans upstairs assumed. The rendition Sabrina had chosen was even less so, filled with dueling pianos and lilting flutes and instruments she couldn’t name that made it an evocative depiction of Celtic life from centuries ago.

It never failed to make her heart melt, even if it didn’t have such softer effects on her feet.

A quick glance at the mirrored walls around them showed that her face was squidged up in concentration just as expected. She didn’t like the mirrors when she was dancing, though she hadn’t said as much to anyone other than Deanda. They were supposed to give her insight into what she was doing and how she was doing it. Yet she felt like they just added to her stress levels in the end.

When she’d gotten the privilege of watching other faeries dance in the room, it was quite the different experience. They managed to make every angle and reflection look intricate and easy, powerful and delicate all at once, a combination she aspired to with very little actual hope but a lot of wistful delusion.

For all that, the mirrors were only half of the room’s charm: the lower half, to be specific. Fashioned with pure white oak, the rest of the walls were carved into simple perfection at the base. Similarly sturdy beams then branched out into delicate tendrils from the top of the reflective glass all the way up to the pinnacle of the vaulted ceiling. And as for the rest of the space above, it was covered with a beautiful mural of faeries done up in various shades of the royal green.

Oddly, the painting didn’t depict the figures as dancing, a detail Sabrina still found odd considering the room’s single purpose. Instead, they appeared frozen dreamily, their wings raised, though not necessarily in movement. Their specific tilts expressed too much for her to imagine them in flight. If anything, it made her think they were involved in a very different activity altogether.

The detail that saved the painting from being racy was that it quite simply was not. All the figures, both male and female were fully clothed, their bodies poised in modest and respectful positions. It was just their wings that belied their otherwise tasteful appearance.

   Seeing that intriguing dichotomy had a habit of putting her in a somewhat introspective mood. Twice already, she’d caught herself wondering whether that was why she enjoyed the interlude so much between when the music started and the dancing began. That was the lull between finding herself in Dallas’ arms and having to worry about what her feet should be doing. Perhaps the emotional reaction she had to that pause was more about the room’s romantic feel, and less to do with her and him specifically.

   Then again, Sabrina admitted to herself, maybe Deanda was right and she was trying to delude herself out of wanting something that could hurt her.

If that was the case, then the room had another definite perk. Because when she was in it with Dallas, he couldn’t shy away from her like she was a leper. He had to hold her firmly, guiding her on the floor like they were just a regular couple instead of two victims trying so hard to forget that they’d ever had less than perfect control of their lives.

Sabrina cast a sad smile at her feet when the song stopped and Dallas moved back a step or two, rocking awkwardly on his heels. That aspect of the dance had been nice while it lasted, and she’d have another opportunity to enjoy it just as soon as her instructor Lynsey told her what she had done wrong.

Because there was always something she’d done wrong.

Sure enough, the attractive brunette was already waltzing over to them, her steps a dance in and of themselves. On the bright side, she was noticeably smiling, her arched wings depicting the same happy emotion in her eyes, which featured a few permanent laugh lines.

“Sabrina,” she trilled, her hands moving animatedly in the air ahead of her. “Your technique was amazing this time. Now all you need to do is learn how to relax. Have fun! You’re dancing with one of Faeriedom’s most eligible bachelors, you know.”

Dallas rolled his eyes, a faint blush covering his cheeks.

Sabrina covered up her own embarrassment with sarcasm, her usual defense tactic. “Why do you think I’m so nervous?”

Lynsey let out a little laugh when her student went on to fan her face like she might swoon, but she still shook her head. “If such a handsome young man can’t tempt you into relaxing, then we need to think of something that will.”

“How about not having to dance in front of a whole group of strangers?” Sabrina suggested smartly.

“Nice try,” her instructor warned, though even that came out sounding lovely. As well as preoccupied. She shook her head in thought. “I would suggest imagining people in their underwear, but that might be more traumatizing than it’s worth considering some of the people I know who will be in attendance tonight.”

Dallas snorted in dry amusement, thereby drawing attention his way.

“Maybe it’s your fault,” Lynsey mused. “How are you holding her? Show me.”

She might have been little and admirably peppy, but when Dallas opened his mouth to protest, all she needed to do was give him a single warning look. Without any actual words of protest, he uttered a “right, ma’am” and then waited patiently for her to turn the music back on. When they swept onto the dance floor a moment later, Sabrina very nearly felt green with envy at how natural they made it look.

It made her wonder whether Dallas was working extra hard to prove Lynsey’s accusation incorrect, or if she herself was to blame for keeping him from looking so phenomenal as a general rule.

The probable answer was not one she cared for.

Lynsey’s flowing white skirt swirled around her legs with every step and turn she took, a dreamy image that managed to sour Sabrina’s already shaky mood. As hard as she tried not to be jealous, she wanted what her instructor had so badly, from her cheerful disposition to her ease with the ins and outs of faerie life. The woman would have no problem behaving gracefully tonight, whereas Sabrina knew how very off-kilter her own royal tiara could be.

The song ended and the dance partners pulled apart from each other, but Sabrina’s mood didn’t lift one bit. If Lynsey sensed that, she didn’t show it. What she did do was push her student back into Dallas’ arms.

Not expecting the shove, Sabrina fell rather helplessly against Dallas, who caught her on instinct. Maybe she imagined it, but it almost seemed like he held onto her a little longer than necessary.

She knew her hands lingered on him.

“I want to see you two try again,” Lynsey instructed. “And no slacking off on your part, Dallas,” she warned with a teasing glare.

They started into the routine again, but she stopped them before they had finished the second turn. Striding over, the bubbly brunette shifted Dallas’ hand a smidgen lower on Sabrina’s back.

“There. Now she’ll be able to follow your lead better.” Then to the other party involved: “Stop trying to do all the work. That’s what he’s there for. You’re too busy concentrating on what you need to do. Instead, let him take charge.”

Sabrina knew she was blushing madly even before she did her best to fix her gaze on some spot between Dallas and Lynsey’s heads. That perspective let her see her reflection, however; which, sure enough, showed a starkly reddened complexion.

All the same, when their instructor started up the music again, Sabrina did her best to do as instructed. The evocative piece played around her, and she let it slide into more than just her ears. This time, she allowed it to ease some of the tension in her mind and shoulders and otherwise rigid spine. It wasn’t like she instantly lost the majority of her qualms, but she was nonetheless able to cast off a noticeable fraction of her inhibitions.

With each passing stanza, Sabrina felt herself melt further into the picture of rolling green hills and gentle sunrises the sounds evoked. If it had gone on for twenty minutes instead of five, she thought she might be able to lose herself altogether. But sadly, the remainder of the dance lesson didn’t last that long, much less the song. She had scheduled just a half-hour session since she had plenty of other entries on her to-do list before the ball began.

Thanking Lynsey and trying to act as normal as possible when she said goodbye to Dallas, Sabrina left the dance studio behind for the equivalent of the royal cafeteria. It wasn’t anywhere as formal as the banquet halls the palace featured, but it was set up with a ritzy buffet. As a general rule, the room wasn’t used at all, but they’d had it running for the last few days considering the occasion and the hundreds of guests who were either rooming in the palace or taking meals there away from the glamorous hotels they were staying at.

Sabrina felt bad for the chefs who were working nonstop behind the scenes regardless, but it seemed a particular shame when their efforts were so very underappreciated with at least a quarter of the guests. A lot of the ladies in attendance trended toward the salad bar alone, much like they would in the human world upstairs. It was a little difficult not to cave in and make a salad herself, but Sabrina couldn’t quite bring herself to run with the crowd on this one. She liked her meats and carbohydrates way too much to ever diet like real princesses apparently should.

Walking the richly carpeted path to the cafeteria, she had to convince herself more than once not to dawdle. She really didn’t want to make nice with a bunch of new acquaintances. It wasn’t that she had automatic negative opinions of them per se; she was just getting tired of all the festivities, which came complete with the constant need to entertain someone or some group.

Her one and only consolation was that Lauren, Dallas’ younger sister, had agreed to sit with her. They’d even pre-arranged gestures for the teenaged faerie to use if Sabrina did or said anything wrong. Extending one pinky finger meant to be careful, holding out her thumb meant she was doing okay, and if she flexed her hand twice, Sabrina would know that someone had just fudged the truth.

Just for unrefined kicks and giggles, they’d also thrown in a signal to use if anyone behaved in a particularly obnoxious fashion.

Sabrina hoped beyond hope that the little pixie with the auburn hair was at their table already. There was no way she wanted to arrive first, though it was too late to do anything about it one way or the other. She was already approaching the opened double doors, where two footmen stood in their palace finery. They wore full dress kits, which came complete with household-green cummerbunds around their waists.

She couldn’t imagine having nothing to do but stand there, yet they cast her genuine smiles nonetheless. It probably wasn’t an expression they granted to everyone, but she’d long since gained a reputation for being just as easy with the servants as her brother, who was notoriously lax in that regard.

Stepping into the sizable room, Sabrina took in all the gorgeous details with an absentminded appreciation for the familiar. Part of her always enjoyed the aesthetics: the dark blue carpet with the mauve walls and off-white trimmings, the strategically set food stations with everything from fresh fruit to ethnic cuisine to the standard Scottish breakfast fare she knew she would trend toward, and the round tables draped in flawless ivory cloth. But the feature that most caught her attention was a certain diminutive faerie across the room, who was waving both her hands and bright pink and black polka-dotted wings to get her princess’ attention.

Already threading her way through the tables, Sabrina did a double-take at the girl’s appearance, but she gave Lauren an amused hug nonetheless when she reached her side. “New wings, huh?”

Dallas’ sister nodded excitedly. “I just dyed them this morning.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at her exuberance. “Is it permanent?”

Emitting a quick snort of amusement, Lauren shook her head. “Nah. I woke up this morning and felt like making a fuss tonight.”

New to the faerie scene as she was, Sabrina could still guess well enough why the somewhat garish pattern might scandalize a socially conservative group of people at a formal event. The neon pink, however, wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow by itself. Her newfound land was filled with eccentric fashion rules that Sabrina’s American and human sensibilities were taking their sweet little time getting used to.

Lauren, who knew exactly what was what, simply enjoyed being a rebel. Sabrina had to admire the girl’s spunk, though she did inquire whether her friend was going to get kicked out of the grand event. Since she was assured that wouldn’t be a problem, in large part because Kenneth had such a soft spot for both Dallas and his sister, Sabrina was therefore fine with it too.

“So is any of the rest of our party here yet?” She asked, clinging to the silly hope that they’d all bailed.

Knowing full well what she was thinking, Lauren gave her a sympathetic smile. “Vayanalette and Nat are both at the fruit bar, and the others haven’t made it yet.”

Sabrina craned her neck just a little in order to pick out the two in question. There was a cluster of women in the general direction where Lauren was pointing.

“Am I going to like them?”

“I’m going to let you figure that one out for yourself, Princess.” She grinned again, turning the title into a mockery.

Sabrina cast a condescending glare back, then started toward the food lines. From literally the second she met Lauren, she had liked her, and that feeling hadn’t gone away. The two of them had been joking about practically being sisters for a while now. But like real sisters, the teen did get on her nerves sometimes. In true sibling fashion, she was a lot like Dallas in that she was something of a skutch. So Sabrina had no real qualms about expressing her exasperation when such irritating instances arose.

Over at the fruit bar, she picked up a little cup of strawberries and raspberries along with vanilla yogurt. Then it was right over to meats and breads to fix a breakfast bap with the specialized sausage, bacon and poached egg. Sabrina did skip the baked beans though, just to be on the safe side.

By the time she finished, Vayanalette and Nat were already back in their seats, chatting happily with Lauren and a newcomer who hadn’t yet sat down. Sabrina adopted a polite smile when she approached the table, hoping that whoever the person was, she’d be worth talking to. Most of the young people she had met so far were well versed in politics and history and all the who’s-who of the faerie world. However, that didn’t make them all interesting. Despite their supposed sophistication, too many of them acted exactly like the masses, just with more money at their disposal.

The thing was, Sabrina could pull the snob card better than most of them if she wanted to. Since faeries were indigenous to just five places – England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales and Germany – there were only five truly royal courts. And she belonged to one of them; not that she would ever bring that up, no matter how much she might want to remind certain individuals that they weren’t as amazing as they wanted to think.

Sabrina did her best to mask her own prejudices with a friendly face and relaxed wings. Putting her plate down, she offered her hand all around. “Hello. I’m Sabrina.”

The newcomer at the table thrust out her own hand, her smile nothing short of radiant. “Hi, Sabrina. I’m Rose. It’s so nice to meet you!”

On anyone else, the enthusiasm would have been overdone. On the redhead with the beautiful brown eyes and the autumn-themed wings, it seemed pretty natural. Moreover, that personality trait made her quite the conversationalist during brunch. It wasn’t that she monopolized the table so much; she asked questions and listened intently to the answers. It just seemed as if she had a general zest for life that she couldn’t keep contained very well.

Since Sabrina wasn’t about to stop her, the little get-together passed by rather quickly and without Lauren needing to use any of their preplanned warning gestures. By the time they got around to saying their goodbyes, she could even say she’d enjoyed herself.

From there, it was over to help her sister-in-law with a more formal event, and then Sabrina all but ran back to her bedroom suite for what she planned to be a very short nap. She set her alarm and everything; she just forgot to turn it on. So it was something of a surprise when a speaking voice instead of a singing voice woke her up.

“Princess? Are you alright there?”

The feminine accent with its desperate overtones broke through her dreams slowly at first.

“Princess, I need you to wake up now,” the Irish lilt pressed. “You were supposed to be at your hairdresser appointment fifteen minutes ago. You have to get up.”

The word “hairdresser” was what really penetrated Sabrina’s sleep-focused and therefore bleary brain. She sat up quickly, managing not to clock her personal assistant in the chin.

“Oh bugger,” she muttered, most of it coming out as a yawn.

“‘Oh bugger’ is right.” Claire took a quick swipe at her brown bangs before helping her up. “Catherine is freakin’ out!”

“I bet she is.” Sabrina dashed her fingers across her tired eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Her PA wasn’t about to stand around and listen to apologies though. With a critical, “You look an awful mess,” Claire dove into her boss’ walk-in closet and came out with a huge, fashionably floppy hat. Plopping the white thing with the beautiful green bow down on her own head, she flitted back over to start piling Sabrina’s static-ridden hair into a makeshift bun. In that way, she was able to contain most of the bright yellow mess in one more efficient movement, tucking in what wisps remained behind.

Standing back, she eyed her princess up and down. “You’ll do. Now come on. Hup hup!”

Feeling more than self-conscious beneath the wide brim, Sabrina tried to smile nonchalantly at the few people she and her little entourage passed. She was exceptionally happy that most of the female guests were in their rooms or at their own appointments getting ready for the evening. And most of the men were engaged in a massive pool tournament they’d rigged up earlier, complete with high stakes and some top-notch faerie-brand cigars. Forget Cuba: Downstairs, the good smokes came from Germany.

Apparently, however, there was at least one man in the palace who didn’t much care for cigars or pool. Either that or he had other priorities, like picking on princesses who were running very late. So Sabrina found herself stopped short by a deep, booming voice from behind her. A Scottish voice, to be precise, and one doing a very bad job at an American accent.

“Howdy, ma’am. Nice hat you have on that pretty little head of yours.”

Sabrina would have known that bass anywhere, masked or not. She didn’t need to see her bodyguards’ wings and arms and entire selves stiffen in attention to know that her brother was making an appearance. They were much more casual with Alistair, whom they saw a lot more of.

She on the other hand, had no problem giving the king just as good as he gave. He might be the faerie equivalent of six-foot-three, with powerful green wings and a rugby player’s build, but he didn’t scare her one bit. Particularly when he was needling her.

“That was the worst American accent I have ever heard,” she began well before she was fully facing him. “And I’ve heard some bad ones since coming over here, so that says something. What is up with you people thinking everyone in the U.S. sounds like a sixties-era Western?”

Holding a foot-long, black container that came across as expensive right from the start, Kenneth chuckled. “How about New York? Would that make it better?”

“I really doubt it,” she informed him, then squealed in protest when he reached forward to grab her hat away. “Don’t you dare! My hair looks horrible.”

Wings quivering with amusement and the natural sibling need to antagonize, he tapped the brim anyway.

Her responding scowl didn’t faze him at all, she could tell.

“You wouldn’t be mocking me if you knew what I had in this box,” he assured somewhat smugly.

Not sure how to interpret that, she regarded him suspiciously. “What’s in it?”

His green eyes, so similar to hers, sparkled back. “Go ahead and give it to your hairdresser. She’ll know what to do.”

Since Claire was twitching with impatience beside her, more than ready to hurry them on their way, Sabrina didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, she gave her brother a hug for whatever “it” was, and then let her attendant drag her off to the date she was running very behind for.

As expected, Catherine was not happy when her royal client slid to a halt inside the very private hair salon. Sabrina could have gotten there faster if she’d flown, but that was a major faux pas indoors for some reason. She’d learned that early on and not the hard way, for which she was very grateful.

In her opinion, the explanation about why it was such a no-no still hadn’t been explained all that well. But she was willing to chalk it up to a cultural oddity.

“Sit. Sit.” The leggy, perfectly-painted woman with her designer jeans and manicured nails, pointed at one of the silver-accented salon chairs. “You’re late.”

Princess or not, Sabrina knew when to shut up and take orders. Sitting down without a word of dissent, she crossed her legs at the ankle and folded her wings around herself as instructed. She’d gotten her hair done often enough now to know the drill, but she still found the required action annoying as Catherine secured a stylist’s wrap around her shoulders. She hugged herself similarly whenever she went to bed, her wings serving as a security blanket most nights. But having to sit still in the same position while she was awake felt a lot less natural.

Sabrina nonetheless kept her wings folded for her shampooing and beyond. A little less cranky now that she was officially at work, Catherine carried on a conversation with the same kind of skill as the way she wound her princess’ locks this way and that.

Much of what she said was about Italian Prince Antonio Vatuicci, who was a notorious playboy. His exploits regularly ran the length and breadth of faerie gossip networks, and it didn’t seem like he minded the attention considering the mischievous smiles he wore more often than not in the circulating pictures. At one point, he had even taken up a whole half of one sensational magazine cover while a certain Scottish princess graced the other side, each with their own “breaking news” stories. With that said, all three women had to agree he was quite the photogenic philanderer.

That was right before Catherine paused to ask for the not-so-little black box Sabrina had brought in with her. If her tone was any indication, she seemed to know what was inside and when to use it, which was a step up from Sabrina.

“Claire,” the stylist called out, her tone exceptionally bossy.

Sabrina winced, knowing how much her personal assistant would dislike that attitude. There was some bad blood between the two faeries, which she’d learned after one particular eventful episode not that long ago.

But there were no fireworks this time. Instead, Claire played dumb, blinking a little too stupidly while she swept her brunette bangs back for the umpteenth time. “Yes?”

Catherine sighed the sigh of a long-sufferer. Either that or a prima donna. “The box?”

“What about it?” Again with the clueless voice.

“Would you be so kind as to bring it here please?” Her tone was now pure ice.

“Oh.” Several more blinks ensued. “Of course.”

With a well-aimed glare, Catherine accepted the case to open it up. Yet just like that, the tension between them faded into a mere background detail as the three women peered at what it held.

Inside, a stunning silver tiara was displayed against black velvet.

It wasn’t all that large, composed of a small, silver band that came close to disappearing into Sabrina’s hair when Catherine slipped it into place. The front portion of the crown sloped upward several inches in a gentle tangle of silver wisps and exquisite diamonds.

Even with half of her locks clipped up or hanging out in disarray, Sabrina had to admit that the tiara looked good on her. She’d even go so far as to say it looked right.

That was a definite plus considering what she was getting dressed up for.

After the oohing and aahing subsided, Claire went back to her seat against the wall and Catherine went back to work, combing out and curling up and spraying around. Fascinated, Sabrina watched as much of it as she could until it was done and there was nothing to stare at but perfection. Silvery-blue wings quivering in pride, Catherine handed her a mirror to see the exquisite arrangement from all angles.

Sabrina’s hair was mostly swept back off her face, gathered into a pile of curls that rested all around the back of her head. That alone would have been elegant, but then there were the artful wisps designed to escape the tangle in distracting form. They fell down her neck, with a few more dangling around her ears and two less spiraled strands closer to her face.

It was those last locks that kept the style from being too old-fashioned against Sabrina’s pixie-cute face. They added just the right touch of girlish personality to an otherwise very grown-up look.

Looking at herself like that, tiara and all, her nerves slid away in favor of excitement for perhaps the first time that day. She couldn’t wait to see how her dress looked against the hair.

“It’s gorgeous,” Sabrina breathed, her eyes wide with delight. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“Good.” Catherine beamed briefly before forcing her smile into the kind of disapproving frown most artists knew how to utilize. “Because I had to rush it since you were late, so let’s seriously hope it stays the way it’s supposed to.”

Awestruck though she was, Sabrina fought the urge to say or do something snarky right back. Being gracious, even in the face of the opposite, was all part and parcel of being a princess, she reminded herself. So she let the snippy comment roll off her wings, thanking Catherine once again and then gliding down the hallways back to her room.

This time, there was nobody about other than Claire, Gerard and Simon. Sabrina had a feeling that was on purpose, like a parade blocked off before the floats started coming down. Being the silly romantic he was, her brother would have made sure nobody could see her during her in-between stage of getting ready for the party.

They made it back to the room, where her security team took their spots on either side of the door after she slipped through. Deanda was already in there, lounging against the one bedpost in her own attire.

Not that it was any big surprise, but she looked like a knockout.

Decked in a red strapless gown, a Kisseyin original, she was both classic and classy in the floor-length ensemble. Gently creased from fitted bust to hemline, the dress had a thick, scarlet sash around its empire-waist, and a scarlet underskirt that showed for the last few inches at the bottom. It kept her strappy high heels almost completely covered beneath the fabric. Meanwhile, up top, a delicate pearl strand graced her neck, and two same-sized pearls dangled from her ears to finish off the look.

Each one of the details complimented her dark hair, and black and white wings.

“You look stunning!” Sabrina exclaimed at the same time Deanda’s eyed widened in appreciation for “Your hair!”

They barely got the chance to laugh about that before the royal dressmaker arrived, complete with sewing kit and two attendants. Enar had Sabrina undressing right away so they could finish fitting her down to the last tiny stitch. Everything was going to be perfect, the seamstress assured.

Unlike with Catherine, Enar knew how to perform her art without an attitude. So Sabrina smiled much more easily at the Scottish matron with the tiger-lily wings. They’d been working together for months to design the perfect dress, and the finished result was a masterpiece with or without whatever last-minute nitpicking she planned to add.

A cheerful green that perfectly matched one of the slighter shades in her wings, it cut in a fetching but modest sweetheart neckline. That had been at Sabrina’s specific request. Once upon a time, she wouldn’t have minded showing off what her mama gave her for special occasions. These days though, a nunnery didn’t sound so bad, complete with long robes and habits.

Despite her Stewart-inspired neurosis, she had to admit she looked good in the gown. The A-line pattern featured thin straps that were made out of tiny, disconnected strands of diamonds; and more of the same laced the very top of her gown from front to back, as well as around her hemline and the slits for her wings. The tiny stones could have looked tacky, but the rich, ruched fabric they lay on was more than enough to demand the lion’s share of attention.

There were larger diamonds for her choker and bracelet, making for a dazzling finish that had Sabrina’s thoughts skittering where they had no purpose going. Alex had bought her a diamond necklace their last Valentine’s Day together. It had been just a very simple pendent, but she had loved it anyway.

If he could have been there with her right then, she thought he would have been rendered speechless. But he never would see her like that, or like anything again for that matter. He was back in the United States, alive and doing fairly well according to the last report she’d requested. Yet well or not, he was out of her life for good.

She could feel the tears well up in her eyes.

Claire, who had been busy expertly applying her makeup, yelped in concern. Deanda rushed forward with a tissue, startling Enar, who was crouching on the floor making some infinitesimal adjustment.

Somehow, everyone managed to not trip over each other while saving Sabrina’s mascara. It was supposed to be smudge proof, but only after drying appropriately.

The real factor that kept her from turning into a sniffling, sobbing mess was Deanda, who gave her hand a quick squeeze. It was a welcome reminder that she could get through tonight because she didn’t have to get through it alone.

Sabrina squeezed right back. And then she set Alex out of her mind. He wasn’t part of her future. She had a whole new world to welcome, and so welcome it she would with her head held high and her makeup perfectly set.

That might be because she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. But she was going to take it on and take it down anyway.

To Err Is Faerie: Chapter Two – This Is All You Get Until The Whole Book Is Published Tomorrow on Amazon

How far would you go to save a friend?

If you’re a crazy little pixie princess named Sabrina, apparently pretty darn far, risking your life and sanity with only a few mental hesitations.

Let’s face it, however: Most of us have no clue how to answer that question. If you’ve ever served in the military or had a baby, I imagine you’ve got a much better idea than the rest of us. But for a single civilian like me, I just genuinely don’t know.

There are definitely people I say I’d die for, such as my growing family and my very closest friends. And I truly want to believe that I would put my money where my mouth is if push came to shove.

Whether reality would follow along, however? Well, let’s just say I hope that, unlike Sabrina, I never have to find out.

CHAPTER 2

S

abrina turned the shiny doorknob with a whole lot of hesitation in her wrist. Yes, Kenneth was her brother, and she’d already bucked his authority a few times over in typical little-sister style. Not to mention that, according to certain sources she’d had throughout the years, older brothers were born to be badgered by their younger siblings. It was practically a law in and of itself, carved into nature at the beginning of time, or very nearly so. Sabrina didn’t doubt any of that, but it didn’t mean she felt comfortable playing her full part in that long-lasting tradition. She’d only known Kenneth for a very short amount of time, and he was still a king with a lot of power and even more stress.

With all that in mind, her pulse did perform a little faster than usual when she stepped into the main room.

It was a simple but expansive space. Done up in varying shades of cream and accented with the family green, everything was set up just-so from the wide and cluttered desk her brother sat at, to the circle of furniture created by two black leather sofas and two matching loveseats. Several bookshelves filled with various works lined the walls, but they were more for decorative and intellectual show than anything else. In the same way, the pieces of first-edition faerie art around the room were set in grandiose frames for subtle or not-so subtle purposes of intimidation.

Sabrina was very happy the arts’ particular effects had worn off on her a week ago. Back at her brother’s safe-house, she’d been outright mesmerized by the paintings she’d seen, to the point where she’d required physical assistance to stop ogling them. According to Lauren, faerie works had that influence on humans; and since Sabrina had still been in the process of morphing into her proper self, she’d reacted just as a human would with rapturous attention.

But things had changed. She was a full faerie now with a clean bill of health according to Aileen. Her wings were perfectly functional, she was able to size-change – an interesting experience all by itself – and she reacted to art normally. Now if her shrink would give the same diagnosis, she’d be in tiptop shape.

“Hey, big brother,” she started amiably.

It was more to butter him up than out of natural affection. She was still working on that and genuinely wanted to achieve it, but it hadn’t arrived quite yet when their relationship was still so very knew and fragile.

He smiled a tired smile that made her feel guilty for bothering him, and told her to take a seat across the desk. The king looked exhausted, with heavy bags under his green eyes that made him look more haggard than a healthy man in his forties should be. His wide shoulders were slightly slumped and his magnificent green wings fell down from his shoulders, drooping past the chair’s arms.

It wasn’t a relaxed position; it was one born out of depression.

She knew why, of course. Dallas’ kidnapping had hit Kenneth hard on multiple levels. There was the fact that the younger man was a Scottish faerie and therefore automatically under his protection. But she knew that Dallas was much more than that to her family. He and Alistair had been best friends since grade school, which meant that both had spent plenty of time at the other’s place. And apparently, while Dallas’ father was still alive, the man was not now, nor ever had been, the most affectionate sort of soul. A businessman, he had put his career ahead of his family, so Kenneth and Kyla had unofficially adopted Dallas as a second son.

For that matter, Sabrina still hadn’t met the man, which she found odd. If she had been in his position, she would have spent every waking moment roaming the palace halls and pestering people to find Dallas.

Rather like her brother was.

“Are you okay?” She regretted the question before she could complete it. It was an all-around inadequate string of syllables, but she didn’t know of any other way to express her concern.

“I’m holding up,” he assured, and it almost sounded like the truth.

She winced in both sympathy and empathy. “Are we any closer to finding him?”

“We have a few new possibilities,” he said in a voice that didn’t promise much. “But it’s been a while. The longer we can’t find him…”

He trailed off, unwilling to say the words they both knew to be accurate. It was like the process of saying it might give the fates permission to make it so.

Sabrina glanced down at his beautiful mahogany desk, mostly because it was painful to look at the raw emotion all over his face. She wondered if that was how she looked when she talked about Dallas. If she had to take a guess, she’d say his tight and exhausted expression was something very close to a mirror image of her own.

Giving him a couple extra seconds to collect himself, she picked up a copy of The Faerie Times that he had lying on one corner of the desk. She shouldn’t have been surprised to see a picture of her kidnapped friend there, smiling his usual cocky grin, his dark blond hair falling across his right eyebrow in a way she was very familiar with. He would be just about ready to shove it out of his face, she knew.

The image brought on a new rush of heavy emotion that nearly forced tears out of her eyes. As it was, she had to swipe at them with her fists before flipping the newspaper over.

“Is there anything I can do?” It wasn’t the first time she’d asked the question.

“I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do other than what we already are.” He paused to close his eyes for something longer than a blink, and when he opened them again, it was to stare blankly at the ceiling. “We don’t know where he’s being held specifically or where the Committee is in general. They abandoned the last building, and it’s not like they left us a forwarding address.”

The words rolled out with a controlled amount of bitterness. “We’ve scoured their usual known haunts but found nothing. And even if we could get in contact with them, what could we offer? They definitely don’t need money.”

Sabrina knew that was true. All too well. The facility she’d been kept at had been flawlessly clean and well- maintained. If it wasn’t brand new, then they had put a lot of time, effort and British pounds into keeping it in mint condition. So no, they didn’t seem like they’d care about any financial incentives. At least as far as she had seen. She supposed her experiences had been limited to just a few areas, including her padded cell, the rooms where they conducted their studies, and Dr. Stewart’s personal office.

The evil therapist’s space had been particularly lavish, she recalled. After all the time she spent there, she rather thought she had its details memorized. And not just the physical impression. It also had an air to it: a disturbing, oppressive ambience she never wanted to experience again. Or perhaps it was just the sound of his voice that had given off such a negative impression.

Sabrina knew there was an intellectual debate over which was worse: psychological torture or its physical relation. But now that she had firsthand experience with both, she had a simple and complicated answer. It all depended on how well they were applied.

Stewart had helped her come to that conclusion.

Shaking those burdensome thoughts to the side, she tried again. “Kenneth, there’s got to be something I can do. Quite obviously, I’m not sleeping much at night, and I’ve got plenty of time on my hands during the day. It just feels wrong not to help when I know what he’s going through. So if it’s a matter of you feeling badly wasting my time, don’t.”

He shook his head again, his blond hair shifting a little with the movement. He needed to cut it, she could tell. Normally a good-looking guy, he’d rather neglected his appearance as of late. Several inches over six feet, he was ruggedly handsome and charismatic with the appeal of a well-mannered rugby player. If there was such a thing.

At least, he came across that charmingly on his good days. This wasn’t one of them.

Kenneth sighed, another indication that he was tired of it all. “I wish it were that simple. Believe me I do. And if I think of something, I’ll let you know. But for right now, there simply isn’t anything.”

“What about Alistair?” She found herself feeling quite desperate to be of some use. “He’s been helping you out, hasn’t he?”

“Yes,” Kenneth acknowledged. “Yes, he has. But he was born and bred to run an entire country.”

Sabrina felt the implications like a kick to the curb. Her nephew was useful; she wasn’t. Still, she protested anyway, leaning forward in her desperation to be of some use in this whole, sordid mess. Almost without thought, she wrapped her wingtips around the bottom of her chair.

“I get that, but what other faerie can you think of who’s spent as much time up close and personal with the enemy?”

“You’re already telling your psychiatrist everything you can,” he reminded her. “And Geoffrey has his men playing and replaying the interviews you’ve given them for any clues. Whether you realize it or not, you are helping.”

She gave up at that point, but only because her brother looked so battle-weary. She couldn’t continue badgering him anymore; it was just too pointless and cruel.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he told her with a small but sincere smile. “Believe it or not, I know how you feel.”

“No, I really am sorry to bother you,” she repeated, standing up this time. “It was thoughtless of me.”

“Sabrina,” he commandeered her attention, his brow furrowing slightly. “I’d love to say you can interrupt me anytime you’d like, but obviously with my job, that’s not true. However, when I’m not in a meeting, you’re more than welcome to stop by and visit. It isn’t a bother.” He sighed. “I’m not getting anywhere anyway.”

Unclear about whether she should stay or go, she hesitated.

“Would you like to play a game of Scrabble with me?”

Sabrina couldn’t help it: she looked at him like he’d gone crazy.

He gave a rueful laugh. “You think I’ve lost my mind, don’t you?”

She tempered her actual response to something less insulting. “It is pretty early. Anybody can feel a little loopy at this time of the morning.”

Staring down at his cluttered desk for a few seconds, he looked back up at her and shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “Sometimes stepping away from the problem gives me a fresh perspective.”

“And Scrabble will do that for you?” She asked, still a little doubtful.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it would be time spent with you, which I know I’ve been very lax about so far. And I think both of us could probably use a few moments of distraction. Unless you’d like to go back to bed, of course.”

He made the last statement with the smallest upward turn of the left side of his lips, like he didn’t have a clue that bed was the last place she wanted to be when sleep wasn’t sure to follow.

It was sibling manipulation at its best, and Sabrina found herself taking some comfort from it. She felt little qualm in caving after that, moving with him over to the sofas and the coffee table in between.

There, they played and talked. In the beginning, the conversation was nothing more than polite chitchat, but it morphed into something more comfortable before she knew it.

Playing words like “quark,” her brother took the lead after only a few moves. She frowned at the folders he’d moved aside to make room for their word battle, board and all. How he could get the necessary letters to play so many points so quickly was beyond her comprehension.

Kenneth gave a genuine bark of laughter when he saw her expression, and assured her that he wasn’t hiding any extra letters around him.

From there on in, Sabrina had to rack her brain for ways to keep up with him, which was a relief from her normal thoughts. Concentrating on triple-letter bonuses and intersecting parts of speech meant thinking about Dallas just a little less than normal. His plight was still there, just not quite as unbearably heavy as before. She’d feel guilty about taking the mental and emotional break later. For the time being, however, she was determined to semi-enjoy herself.

That was the plan anyway. But since her plans so seldom seemed to go the way she intended them to, she messed it up while tallying her score for the simplistic and barely adequate play of “leader.” It fell on a triple-word tile, but it still felt pathetic.

“So have you gotten anything else out of Alex?” She used her pointer finger to wobble one of the tiles she hadn’t played yet.

“No.” Her brother returned his attention to his own letters after a quick, questioning look her way. “At this point, I’m actually quite inclined to believe he’s telling the truth though.”

She didn’t know why she had broached the topic when sleeping dogs really were best left to lie. That was particularly true when those canines had caused too much trouble already the last time they were woken up.

Considering how she did the complete opposite of changing the subject, it seemed that she hadn’t gotten the adage through her thick skull just yet.

“What are you going to do with him then?” She pressed with all the casual poise she could muster, concentrating a little too much on placing the letters D, E, T, O, U, R and S on the board, locking in a few additional points from the word “loves” she’d managed to also make with the S.

Kenneth shook his head over his row of tiles, which were spaced neatly on their gold-edged holder. “I don’t know yet. I want to be as sure as possible before I let him back out.”

If he expected a fight out of her on that one, he was very mistaken. She wasn’t going to come down on him for trying to protect his country. There were too many reasons to keep her cool, including how he was once again breaking the no-human-prisoners rule faeries had long since held. Back in darker days, faeries had often just killed humans who got in their way. And while she was pretty sure those practices were legally obsolete now, the no-prisoner statute lived on.

Housing them in Faeriedom was flat-out impossible, and keeping them elsewhere was just dangerous. For the vast majority of the past decade, the HPAC had failed miserably in obtaining any faerie information. But for whatever reason, the group was getting lucky as of late, compromising wingless agents, locating faerie-owned property and, of course, kidnapping high-profile targets. All it would take was one more accident, and the HPAC could discover the holding areas, letting even more faerie secrets slip into their hands.

For Dallas’ sake, her brother seemed willing to break the rules, just as he’d done before for her good. Though as far as she’d been told, Alex was still being held miles and miles away.

Then again, none of those precautions or allowances might matter when it came down to it. There was no way to tell when, under torture, Dallas could be spilling damaging information right then. He was strong and stubborn, but everyone had a breaking point.

Sabrina’s fingers danced nervously over the tops of her letters. “Would I be allowed to visit Alex?”

Her brother shook his head in such a way that his answer was obvious and inflexible. Yet she waited for his verbal response anyway.

“You know Faeriedom is on lockdown until Kyla and I give further notice. Nobody comes in and definitely nobody leaves other than necessary personnel.” He grimaced, his features a study in resolve and regret. “It’s just too dangerous right now.”

Sabrina knew it was true, mostly because of how swiftly the king and queen had set the new rules in place after Dallas’ kidnapping. Sending out a broadcast on the faerie-specified wavelengths, he had invited citizens and residents alike in the surrounding aboveground areas to take shelter downstairs.

Even some of the farmers – who had one of the more dangerous jobs considering the spiders and birds that would gobble them up if they got the chance – had come down. Not too many, admittedly, since those men and women were used to adverse conditions, much like Wild West cowboys.

The faeries that had come down now lived in various public and private buildings around the city, living off of government rations until their monarchs gave the all-clear. Already, some of them were complaining that they wanted to go back, but the king and queen had so far refused to lift the ban. They had made the conditions for coming down very clear in their original message, so subjects were essentially stuck where they were for the time being. It wasn’t like they could sneak out on their own either. There were just a few legal, natural openings nowadays, and those were heavily guarded. All the others had been filled up during the sixties, she’d found out.

Sabrina had learned a lot about faeries, their way of life and their history since coming down. She had also learned a lot about herself while she walked a fine line between outward serenity and inward agitation, doing her very best to cultivate the appearance of calm concern.

She’d gone to her psychiatric evaluations and spilled all the details she could think of in hopes that it might help. She hadn’t cried or balked like she wanted to, numbing herself instead to everything but practically emotionless memory. She’d shut herself off as she dredged up every sordid aspect and angle possible. Not to mention going above and beyond the call of duty by doing research on both faerie and available HPAC accounts in order to glean any useful information she could, and keep herself from being a nuisance.

It just wasn’t doing any good.

She stared down at her last five letters, a P, A, E, R and T, rearranging them one way and then the other until she formed “trap.” It served to flicker a dangerous little light bulb on inside her head.

Sabrina bit her lower lip in contemplation while she processed the idea. Thanks to various sources, including Deanda, she was aware of some of the methods Kenneth and Kyla were employing in their search for Dallas. And while she doubted she’d heard every single one of their plans, Sabrina was pretty certain they hadn’t considered the one she was now musing.

A trap. But not just any trap. One that the organization couldn’t refuse: something that was just too tempting for them to pass up.

The HPAC might have Dallas in its clutches, but he could only be passed around for so long and to so many doctors at a time. It was the classic problem of supply and demand, particularly with rare products. If her family offered them up another pretty piece of wing, she couldn’t see them refusing.

Especially if she was the offered bait. Too many of them had shown too personal an interest in her for Sabrina to think they wouldn’t go far out of their way to get her back.

That included her nemesis, Mr. Smiley. She didn’t understand his particular obsession with her, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. But that didn’t mean she could ignore the certainty that he was trying to find her every waking moment he had at his disposal. And when she thought about it a little more closely, Dr. Stewart was probably pining after his psychological study just as much. He’d lived every scientist’s dream while she was in his clutches, experimenting on her psyche without any ethical boundaries or the possibility of professional lawsuits.

Then there was the short, balding Dr. Morrison, who’d been so smug while he pushed her to perform more and more difficult tasks until she was in literal agony. And when she couldn’t take it anymore, he’d tried to push her further with his warped sense of motivation: electric shocks applied directly to her skin.

Or Dr. Anderton with his needles and vials. He never had gotten to use much of his tools of the trade on her.

As she’d considered before, there was the chance that they had replaced her with Dallas. For all she knew, they might have forgotten about her altogether. Then again, maybe they hadn’t, and maybe it was a theory worth looking into, which meant that talking to Alex could be a smart place to start. The HPAC might have confided in him, or at the very least let something slip about where they liked to hang out when their normal haunts weren’t an option.

It was her turn, but Sabrina didn’t put down “trap” after all, choosing to play “part” instead. The way she was working everything out in her head, she was fairly sure she would have to first get her ex’s full-fledged consent. So there was no reason to broach it to her brother just yet.

Instead, what she did was ask one more time about Alex. “What if I was really, really careful?”

Kenneth couldn’t have had any idea about the larger plot she was piecing together, yet he seemed to address it anyway. His expression remained weary, but there was an uncompromising resolve about him nonetheless.

“Sabrina, this isn’t open for discussion. I’m not letting you put yourself in harm’s way by going up there. End of story.”

She let the subject drop, but not because she was ready to give up. After all, she could contact Alex by email just as easily. It might not be as effective as sitting down and talking to him, but she could work with what she had.

“I’m sorry,” she offered. “I’ll let it go.”

His expression softened somewhat, though he still looked solemn. “I’m only thinking about your safety. You know that, right?”

She agreed. Yet even while she did, she was busy sorting through details to solidify her scheme. In the end, she meant to have her way. She had to have her way when Dallas’ life seemed so thoroughly dependent on it.