Shadowspell

We were in the guardroom, and Finn was stationed across the room from us—as far away as he could get, so we could have an illusion of privacy. Dad didn’t spare the Knight a glance as he gestured for me to precede him into my suite.

I was doing my best to accept the fact that my dad was a snob. The Fae are extremely class-conscious, and even though Knights were the sword arm of Faerie, they were treated almost like servants. I doubted I’d have any luck bringing my dad’s attitude into the twenty-first century—the Fae take being set in their ways to a new level—but I couldn’t help trying.

“Did you bring anything for Finn?” I asked my dad, standing my ground.

Dad arched one eyebrow at me, then turned his attention to Finn. “Have you had lunch yet?”

Finn blinked in surprise. To tell you the truth, I was kinda surprised myself. I’d been sure Dad would stick his nose in the air at my suggestion. Maybe I could bring him into the twenty-first century after all.

“I have already eaten,” Finn said, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. The color that rose to his cheeks screamed that he was lying.

“No, you haven’t!” I said. “I’m sure Dad’s got enough food in there for three people.” I slanted a look at my dad, whose face was completely impassive. “Maybe even four, based on the size of that bag.”

The color in Finn’s cheeks darkened, and he bowed his head slightly. “Go on and eat your lunch, Dana. I’m not hungry.”

I shook my head, so not getting what was the matter. I looked up at my dad with narrowed eyes.

He lifted one shoulder in a hint of a shrug. “It’s not just me.” Once again, he gestured toward the door to my suite.

I didn’t get it right away. “What isn’t just you?” I asked as I headed toward the door.

Dad didn’t answer, and as we walked down the fortified hallway to my suite, I started to understand. “You mean this whole classism thing you Fae have going on goes both ways.”

Dad nodded. “Finn is a Knight, and while he may accept assignments in Avalon—and often does—he was born and raised in Faerie. He has enough experience to understand that humans have a much more egalitarian attitude than the Fae, but he himself is still Fae. He would never be comfortable sitting down to eat with me like an equal.”

Dad made himself at home in my kitchen, putting down the bag and rummaging through my cabinets for plates. I understood what he was saying, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.

“I still think it’s a crappy way to treat someone who’s willing to take a bullet for me.”

Dad turned to look at me. “Perhaps it is. But that doesn’t change the reality.” He smiled. “And just because protocol insists Finn and I not socialize doesn’t mean the same applies to you.”

I refrained from pointing out that I didn’t care what his stupid protocol said. I wasn’t treating Finn like a piece of furniture like my dad did, and I never would.

Dad halted his efforts to serve lunch and gave me another of those almost vulnerable looks of his.

“I can’t help being who I am,” he said. “I know I seem terribly set in my ways, but it’s just part of being a native of Faerie. We have deeply ingrained expectations of one another. I’m truly sorry it makes you uncomfortable.”

My dad was still pretty close to a stranger to me, but I believed he was sincere. He’d never told me how old he was, but I knew it was old old. It wasn’t fair of me to expect him to change, especially not overnight. When I’d come to Avalon to meet him, I’d had no idea what to expect. Half the time, my mom had made him out to be the devil incarnate; the other half, she’d made him sound like a candidate for sainthood. The reality was that he was somewhere in between.

“I know, Dad,” I said. “And I’m trying my best to understand. Honest.”

He smiled at me, and it was impossible to miss the paternal affection in his eyes. Maybe as an old Fae, he couldn’t be as demonstrative as I might like, but I knew he loved me, even having known me only a short time. All in all, he was a pretty good dad, even if there were things about him I’d have liked to change.

*   *   *

I met Kimber in the lobby of the spa. I felt weird and conspicuous walking around with both my dad and Finn acting as bodyguards. I felt even weirder walking into the spa with them.

The lobby was every bit as girlie as I could possibly have imagined. The walls, furniture, and carpet were all in gently muted pastels, and a wall-mounted fountain filled the room with the sound of trickling water. Candles flickered from sconces on the walls, and little bowls of potpourri scented the air.

My dad and Finn looked completely out of place, and the woman at the reception desk looked at them with wide, startled eyes. I’m sure they weren’t the only men ever to have set foot in the spa, but at the moment, it kinda felt like it.

Kimber had gotten there before me, and she leapt to her feet as soon as I walked in, dropping the fashion magazine she’d been looking at.

“Right on time!” she declared, looking as excited as a five-year-old at Christmas.

Although Kimber had only just turned seventeen, she’d be starting her sophomore year of college in the fall. We hadn’t really talked about it in any detail, but I was pretty sure she had about as much experience making friends her own age as I did. Which is to say practically none at all. No wonder the two of us got along so well.