Chapter Two
Timothy
My wife is an amazing woman. Shock after shock bombarded her. True the Queen’s arrival with her court had been as much a head’s up for me as it had been to Penelope. Except that’s not really fair. I knew about the Faery Queen. I should have predicted her interference, even though, in the end, she’d done us a favor in taking Peterson.
It was irksome that Moragana had informed my bride of certain things, like the fact that she, herself, had once wanted me in her bed. If I have the history right, it seems that my grandmother had a sister, who became the Queen of Faerie, and then her daughter ruled, followed by Moragana, which made me at least a cousin, if not a closer relation. I get lost in such things.
But even if Moragana hadn’t been a relative, I’d never had any interest in her, although she flaunted her gorgeous body and had managed to crawl into my bed one night. When she’d done so, and I discovered her presence, I’d bolted up and out of that room faster than an arrow released from its bow. It was that event that proved my breaking point. Andrew and I fled that very night.
In Faerie, Andrew had been treated well. He had not been eager to leave. There had been no rejection over his being of human stock, and his black-hued skin had attracted, not repelled the ladies. I’d had to plead and threaten him that night. It was the warning that I would leave him there alone, which finally brought his grudging agreement to depart. Only a true friend accompanies you when the benefits of hundreds of adoring and beautiful ladies are so plentiful.
We’d needed to hide ourselves in the raunchiest settlements for a while, but after a century, Andrew convinced me that the Queen was no longer angry at my rejection of her advances. Apparently that was correct because we hadn’t heard from her or her court since that moment in my bedroom. That was a good thing. Those who deal in power often do not take denial lightly.
It was true that Moragana had publicly accepted me as family, declaring me a prince of the realm. Perhaps my death or imprisonment would be viewed in a negative light. Since she was childless, I suppose her court might even consider me a possible heir. Yet, uncertain of the repercussions from our midnight departure, I had never been eager to attempt amends.
Andrew thought we should run to one of the other courts, but I feared that being proclaimed a prince in the Autumn Court might sentence me to being hurled into even hotter water. Although one could theoretically swear allegiance to one of the other courts, that might not be allowed due to my rank, and it could possibly be viewed as treasonous. Politics and rivalries were cornerstones of the world of the Fae.
I had not fled to the Summer Court either, as perhaps, I would have liked. Nor had I broken away, claiming myself to be disconnected from all courts, which probably in my case, wouldn’t even have been allowed. Moragana had proclaimed me the last Pooka. For that, itself, I was treasured. Two fat albatrosses around my neck. The human world seemed the better place for our safety.