Free City of Fae by Pippa DaCosta Page A

prickled.
    “Close.”
    I leaned against the bar. “Until yesterday, I hadn’t even met a fae. Whatever she wants, it has to do with you. You’re a fae-at-large. The cops asked me to call them if you showed up again. Before I met you—”
    “Your life wasn’t yet complete?”
    “My life was …” Words failed me, just stopped. I mentally groped for some sort of defining sentence and failed. “I was fine. Happy. It was—is—my life. This isn’t about me.” I rubbed at my hand. “Tell me more about the queen.”
    Reign’s gaze flicked to Warren, who finished his drink and slammed the glass down on the bar. He raked a hand through his jaw-length hair and stroked his fingers over the tip of his right ear, drawing my eye to where the scar continued. He’d lost the pointed tip of his ear. I blinked away, but he saw my reaction, and leaned over the bar.
    “If you want scars like mine, keep on walking the road you’re traveling. You’ll collect them soon enough, if you survive, that is. Humans are weak, fragile …”
    “I’m not walking any road.”
    “No? Aren’t we all walking roads?” He gestured, as though pushing me away. “You’re asking for trouble with that one Reign. You should kill it now and put it out of its misery. Or at least bespell her. Prevent her from talking about what she’s seen here.”
    I’d had enough. “Hey, buddy, you can’t call people ‘it’. I respect what you are, so why don’t you do me the courtesy of acknowledging me in return?”
    Reign checked Warren’s frozen face. The older fae straightened and sucked in a hissing breath. “She doesn’t belong. Get her out of here, or I will.”
    “Oh, you’re something,” I growled. Reign caught my arm but I snatched free and pointed a finger at Warren. “There are words for people like you.” Reign tried again and grabbed my wrist. He tried to pull me away from the bar. “Racist, for one. You know that? You’re racist against humans. Well, guess what, buddy? You’re in our city, so you have to play by our rules. Nobody is forcing you to stay in London—”
    “Alina …” Reign warned, manhandling me toward the door.
    Warren grinned. “Wrong again.”
    Reign swung a warning glare back to Warren. Wait, I’d stumbled across something important. “Who’s keeping you here?” I blurted. Warren snarled, and Reign stilled. “Is it the queen?”
    “Alina!” Reign yanked on my arm, dragging me toward the door.
    Trying to shake him off wasn’t having any effect. I twisted, like a worm on a hook, but his grip only tightened. “You brought me here for answers. You can’t kick me out when I start asking questions.”
    “Don’t let him get to you.” Reign growled.
    I tugged back. He jerked me forward, dragging me after him. “Let me go.”
    “You need to calm down.”
    “No.” Digging my heels in brought us to an abrupt halt by the door. The heat of a dozen stares burned my back. “You brought me here, so have the balls to stick to your decisions.” Someone behind me chuckled. Reign shot a glare over my shoulder and the laughter died.
    “It’s not that simple,” he said.
    “I’m a big girl, I can figure out what’s simple and what isn’t.”
    “You’re nineteen.”
    “So? What are you? Twenty-three?”
    His lips twitched, holding back a smile. “A little older …” He seemed to realize he was still gripping my arms and finally let go.
    “Twenty-five?” I shrugged my jacket back into place and brushed my arms down, working out the aches he’d left me with.
    “I stopped counting at two hundred.”
    Two hundred?! My mouth fell open. He held my incredulous stare, face neutral. Behind us, someone turned the TV up. He was two hundred years old?! He didn’t look a day over twenty-five. I knew the fae aged slowly—another reason we coveted them—but for him to be two centuries old? I couldn’t wrap my thoughts around it. I glanced behind me, at the surreal beauty of them all, and felt more out of