Wing and Dagger: Faerietales, #4

By Jeannette DiLouie

Life is good for Italian Queen Sabrina with her fiancé at her side and her country prospering. As for the HPAC, it's so crippled as to barely be a bother, much less a threat. She doesn't worry about it anymore. Yet her old foe resurfaces in the most unexpected way. As enemy Intelligence Chief Iver explains, the human world is in danger, and Sabrina is the only one who can save it.

Agreeing to meet with the charismatic spymaster, Sabrina's informed about a faerie plot to eradicate the HPAC. And this winged group doesn't care how many innocent lives it damages in the process. Working with the human Committee to stop that threat, Sabrina knows she's walking a razor's edge. Sure, she might end up saving the world; the question is at what cost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeannette DiLouie
• Release date: Aug 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781517605629

Jeannette DiLouie

Jeannette DiLouie was born a New Jersey girl and will die the same even if she grew up in Pennsylvania, lived in Maryland and is now back in Central Pennsylvania. She’s also a cookie dough-eating, travel-obsessed bookworm, and an editor who loves helping other writers achieve their own dreams. Ethnically half-Italian, Jeannette is tragically addicted to carbohydrates. Also ethnically half-Scottish, she’s counting down the days when she can go visit that lovely land again. And being just under five-foot three, she happily claims her short-girl rights to climb on any shelf or counter she needs to. If you enjoyed these past pages, she would love to see you rate and review them on Amazon and/or Goodreads. And if you have a fiction (or non-fiction) story of your own that you’d really like to write or are already writing, check out www.InnovativeEditing.com, Jeannette’s business page. It’s full of free and paid resources… all devoted to genuine writers and making their publishing goals achievable.

Book preview

Wing and Dagger

By Jeannette DiLouie

Copyright 2016 © Jeannette DiLouie

All Right Reserved

Dedication:

To the host of real-life characters I’ve had the benefit of interacting with, both villains and heroes. Thanks for the story-inspiring memories! And here’s to making a million more.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Faerietales Book 5: Flights of Fancy

About the Author

Chapter 1

There wasn’t a single good reason why Sabrina’s subconscious should have fixated on the Human Preservation and Advancement Committee the night before she went back to Scotland. It should have been focusing on flight plans and wedding gowns while she snuggled up under her luxurious blue comforter and closed her green eyes.

That’s not what happened, though her thoughts did go skittering out of the Italian palace to a random Glasgow street. Her company seemed just as arbitrary. Not Dallas; he was a permanent part of her life, so it made sense he would make it into her dreams. But Dr. Robert McCullough wasn’t someone she’d thought of for quite a while. And the blast from the past continued when the three of them ran into Martin and Ryan.

In real life, those two men weren’t fond of Sabrina. In fact, it was safe to say they despised her. Technically, she’d never flat-out asked them to share their thoughts on the subject. Then again, she didn’t need to when she’d turned Martin’s arm into a broken mess the last time she saw him almost three years ago at an HPAC facility. At the time, he’d been a disgusting little pervert, and she’d been high on the newsflash that she was strong enough to kill people who threatened her.

That combination didn’t end well for Martin.

Then there was Ryan. She met him during her next go-round with the evil, faerie-hating organization. Under the direction of his mentor, Dr. Clarence Stewart, he’d been cast as the smitten fool to her damsel in distress in order to sway her to the dark side. It was a part he’d played pretty well, sweeping her up into the storyline that faeries were bad and the HPAC was good and she needed to help her bitter enemies conquer the supposed threat to humanity. But that façade had long since fallen, revealing the stage they’d forced her onto as a cheap set of painted props.

So Ryan and Sabrina weren’t on good terms either. Especially when she’d gone on to get Stewart jailed and ultimately executed.

In real life, she was well aware of those details. And since the same seemed to hold true in her dream, she stopped short in surprise when she came across the two operatives.

So did they.

Martin looked terrified.

Ryan, who had never felt the full force of her wrath, just looked angry.

Of the three of them, Sabrina recovered the quickest. Giving them a cordial nod, she would have kept going along her merry way. Yet for whatever reason, Ryan didn’t want to let her do that so fast.

What are you doing here? He demanded.

Sabrina could have informed him that was none of his business. Or she could have pointed out how the HPAC didn’t have a monopoly on Glasgow streets. For that matter, it didn’t have a monopoly on anything. But those responses required more breath than he deserved, and so she made to walk off as if he and his organization didn’t matter one bit.

Which they didn’t.

Dream-Ryan made it clear how little he appreciated being ignored. Hey! I’m talking to you!

She halted mid-step to face him directly. She wasn’t afraid when she did. She wasn’t agitated at all, and her voice was as calm as could be when she responded.

No, you’re not talking to me. You’re talking at me. Which means there’s no reason for me to talk back.

Cocky faerie, he snapped.

Martin gulped, his eyes huge with apprehension.

Sabrina shrugged. Goodbye, Ryan.

This time, she didn’t bother to break her stride when he shouted after her: Don’t think you can escape the HPAC just like that, Sabrina! We’re not dead yet!

Even in the dream, that declaration made an impact. Not in a sinister way, necessarily. She didn’t shiver in dread. But there was something distinctive about it, enough so for the memory and its impression to linger until the silver alarm clock by her ridiculously large bed went off.

At that, Sabrina sat up straight like she hadn’t been asleep at all. Her heart wasn’t racing, but she did feel very alert while she reviewed the imagined interaction. It seemed as if it might mean something more than the extra toppings she’d put on her chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream the night before. She’d known full well she shouldn’t indulge in the dessert when she had a maid-of-honor dress to squeeze into that week, but the day had been so long and full that she’d done it anyway.

Sabrina told herself her subconscious would have projected the vivid picture regardless, sundae or not. Though she did give a moment’s acknowledgment to the possibility that she was trying to excuse poor decisions. Just a moment though. She wasn’t about to waste too much time debating that one.

What she didn’t have to debate was that she had dreamt the meeting. It wasn’t a flash-forward. Sabrina hadn’t had one of those in a very long time, even before she got her hands on Ciero, the Italian-made serum to prevent that sort of time displacement.

As faeries had learned, thanks to her unintentional involvement, there were a few unexpected side effects to going wingless for two decades straight. If she had stayed living as a clueless human, it wouldn’t have been a problem. But when she stopped taking supplements that concealed her full genetic code, it led to chemical imbalances in her brain that then reacted to additional stressors, which in turn led her mind to overstep the present right into the future.

Since she was the only faerie ever subjected to twenty-four years worth of the drugs only to be weaned off them, nobody could say how common her neurological reactions were. She also couldn’t say she cared about the answer anymore. As far as she was concerned, the issue was resolved. She’d taken Ciero for a few months as prescribed until the doctors declared her fit and fine.

Sabrina hadn’t looked back since.

Until now, anyway. It was only natural to contemplate her past after such a vivid bit of mental fluff. So it was a definite relief when she couldn’t recall racing down any tunnels or snapping back into reality, dazed with the certainty that she’d seen something still to come. She might not have had an episode like that in a while, but she was positive she’d recognize one if it did strike again.

Yet that certainty wasn’t detracting from her suspicion that she shouldn’t set the dream aside so lightly.

The HPAC hadn’t been a real problem since the death of its last kingpin, President Otieno, two years ago. With its facilities across the United Kingdom reduced to a joke, a large chunk of its security personnel scared out of play, and several key officers dead and buried beside their fearless leader, it was overall a toothless threat.

Sabrina was aware the group had a new head, Gilbert Julian: proof the French could be as mindlessly bigoted as the Scots, English, Americans and Kenyans. Sabrina had dealt with HPAC employees from all four countries in the past, and since she hadn’t found much difference in their appalling attitudes, Julian was guilty until proven innocent from the first day she learned about him. It was foolish to think well of someone who headed up an organization that existed to subjugate an entire sentient species.

Sure enough, he’d proven to be as deranged as the rest of them. Not through his actions so much. With his depleted network, Julian’s moves were severely limited, which he was smart enough to recognize. But that didn’t mean his five-year plan was any different than his predecessors’ had been.

Summed up, the big-picture goal wasn’t supposed to go well for faeries in general and Sabrina in particular. Instead, the big-picture reality was looking abysmal for the HPAC.

Julian was failing. Miserably.

That worked out fine in Sabrina’s book. And not just because she enjoyed her freedom far, far away from mad scientists and sadists. There was also the issue of how she simply didn’t have time to deal with that kind of complication. Running a country and learning a whole new language were big enough chores by themselves, not to mention juggling international wedding duties and maintaining a relationship with her own fiancé.

Brushing her yellow-blond hair over one shoulder, Sabrina reached over to the nightstand to slip on her amethyst and diamond engagement ring, which rarely failed to make her smile. It wasn’t enormous and it hadn’t been all that expensive, but it was exactly what she’d wanted. Which meant Deanda had helped Dallas pick it. Left to his own devices, he would have chosen some gaudy monstrosity.

She loved him, but it was true. Dallas was anything but subtle. Which, considering his work in intelligence, was a little ironic. She supposed that was why he had never been an actual spy, just a behind-the-scenes kind of guy.

Claire rapped on her bedroom door, entering without waiting for a response. Sabrina knew it was her former personal assistant, now chief of staff, precisely because she didn’t wait. The woman hadn’t stood on ceremony back in Scotland, and that hadn’t changed since moving to Italy.

Watching her brown-banged friend slip through the doorway, Sabrina regarded her wryly. What would you do if Dallas was with me one of these mornings?

Claire raised an eyebrow. Is he here?

No.

Has he ever been here when I’ve come in? Her Irish accent sounded so pretty despite the smug superiority it held right then.

No.

Then I don’t see why you’re asking the question.

Sabrina swung her legs over the side of the bed and stretched her retro green and yellow wings out to their full span, then did the same to her arms. Consider yourself lucky you’re so useful. ‘Cause the day you stop doing your job so well is the day I’m going to fire you for insubordination.

Claire laughed. Duly noted, my queen.

I hate that title, Sabrina commented. It sounds so insipid. Probably because it rhymes with my name.

No, it doesn’t.

It’s the two ‘een’ sounds.

It’s not emphasized in your name though.

Depends on how you say it.

Claire shrugged that off without comment, the twitch of her wings indicating how little regard she had for her sovereign’s opinion on the subject.

Sabrina let it go too. So what’s my morning look like?

Breakfast with Dallas, then it’s an economic meeting in your office with Gio and his team. That’s scheduled for just an hour, after which you’re conference-calling with Spain about finalizing that land split. Watch out there, by the way: Word is they think you’re soft on the subject.

Why do they think I’m soft?

Sabrina walked into her bathroom, which was huge. It could have been even bigger if she had taken her predecessors’ suite. But since they’d put a successful hit out on her parents two decades ago, she wanted nothing to do with them or anything associated with them. Admittedly, that was a difficult task considering how she now lived in their palace.

She had chosen former Italian Princess Alessandra’s suite instead. Even that had tainted memories, but it was the best she could do without breaking serious decorum. It wasn’t like she was going to take the former prince’s rooms.

It’s wishful thinking, if you ask me, Claire explained from just outside the doorway. This is the first time Italy and Spain have negotiated about land issues since the Vatuiccis ran the scene. If you’re the polar opposite, as your public image suggests, then you’re a little puppy dog willing to roll over for something as simple as a stomach scratch.

Stripping out of her pajamas, Sabrina snorted at the inaccurate and unlikely comparison. Having pets was a human concept all the way. Being centimeters high and living underground nixed the usual range of domestic animals, leaving only insects as potential replacements. And that was something that no faerie, no matter how eccentric, would consider.

Claire, however, had accompanied Sabrina on enough trips upstairs in the human world to now have a decent understanding of that way of life. Moreover, on their last adventure into the sunlight, they had come across a litter of German shepherd puppies. Sabrina found them cute, of course; how could she not? But Claire really lost her heart and now brought them up whenever she could.

It was pretty cute in and of itself.

Why don’t we get one for the safe-house? Sabrina asked easiy, referring to the well-hidden, human-sized mansion situated yards above the faerie palace out in the open air. Every monarch had at least one to be used for recreation or emergencies, whichever was at hand. Get a whole litter if you want.

There was nothing but silence from the direction of the bedroom.

You know you want to, Sabrina pressed, certain it wouldn’t take too many more pushes before her chief of staff accepted.

She folded her sleepwear neatly, then placed both pieces on the closed toilet seat before stepping into the shower and closing the curtain.

Claire moved into the bathroom. Sabrina knew that because she could hear her just fine despite the hot spray rushing through her hair and down her shoulders. She closed her eyes with a little sigh.

If that’s what you really want, your majesty.

Sabrina rolled her eyes, a little smirk twisting her lips. Stop kissing up and make it happen.

Any particular breed? Claire asked without once breaking her professional tone.

German shepherd. She used her very best no-duh voice. Obviously.

Your wish is my command. This time, there was a distinctive note of glee in the otherwise matter-of-fact statement.

Sabrina reached for her shampoo. It was brownie scented and did amazing things for her hair despite all the damage she did to it on a regular basis. Having to be styled just-so all the time was a bloody nuisance, but she almost thought it worthwhile for the lifetime supply of luxurious toiletries she got to use.

Then again, she could have acquired those back in Scotland as a princess too.

Sabrina shrugged that thought away. There was no reason to go there when she’d made the decisions she had, first adopting a temporary position ruling Italian Faeriedom and then accepting a permanent crown ten months later. It was much better to focus on the perks whenever possible.

Beyond the noise of the streaming water, she could hear Claire moving back to the day’s itinerary, her voice still hinting of girlish delight over the forthcoming puppies. For her part, Sabrina paid attention. Mostly. The majority of her brain was tuned to her chief of staff, but her shower did feel so nice and the brownie scent was so delicious.

Perhaps she blanked out a little more than she thought. Because it felt as if Claire’s next statement came out of left field. 

And then you and Dallas have that meeting with Dr. McCullough as soon as you land in Glasgow.

Sabrina did a double take. Say again?

You. McCullough. Dallas. Glasgow? Claire ended her clipped summary as a definite question. He didn’t tell you?

McCullough?

No. Dallas.

Sabrina used a wing to move aside the curtain and peek out. Was he supposed to?

That would be a yes. Claire regarded her with some suspicion. Sure, you just saw him last night. I know you did.

Sabrina didn’t blush. Not outwardly anyway. Poker faces were necessary in politics, and she’d worked hard to achieve a good one.

I guess it must have slipped his mind. She ducked back into the shower to rinse out the shampoo. Care to share?

Claire sounded like she was rolling her eyes. What’s the point of having a chief intelligence officer if you’re not getting intelligence out of him?

Sabrina snickered. Very unqueenly of her, she knew.

Never mind. But Claire sounded like she was at least moderately amused too. You’ll just have to ask him yourself. Nobody gave me the details. All I know is a meeting with the doc is on the schedule.

Officially?

That was important. If it was on the official roster, then that meant it wasn’t a top-secret issue. Otherwise, they were probably talking something more serious.

That’d be a negative.

Sabrina sighed, the chocolate shower losing some of its appeal even while she lathered conditioner into her locks. Humans would kill for the minerals it contained.

And who authorized this without consulting me?

Dallas. He sent me a secure text about it last week.

Out loud, Sabrina had nothing to say to that. In her head, however, she was thinking how her fiancé really should have told her about that kind of thing directly. Probably before he let her drag him off to a dark corner of the palace. Making out with Dallas was well and good, but it didn’t trump issues of national security. It couldn’t.

Maybe Dallas should meet me here for a private debriefing. Under less serious circumstances, Sabrina might have made a few inappropriate jokes about her own word choice. But she was in anything but an easy mood now. Do me a favor and have breakfast redirected to my suite? I’ll let him know myself.

Another rinse.

You got it, boss. Claire didn’t sound like she was mocking. You want me here for this, or should I make myself scarce?

Sabrina waited to answer that until she turned off the water.

It’s not a matter of me not trusting you, she assured, reaching out to one of the red towel hooks beside the shower. You know that. But if Dallas screwed up, I’d rather yell at him in private.

Understood, Claire assured with nothing in her tone but professionalism. Should I assume everything else stays on schedule today?

For now.

Hopefully for good. Selfish though it was, Sabrina didn’t want anything to get in the way of getting back to Scotland. It had been two months since she got to see her family, Deanda and Dallas’ younger sister Lauren. Two whole months. And it was even longer than that since she had traipsed the halls of her brother’s palace. It had been her home for such a very short period, but she still found herself missing it something awful at times.

Which was why she really, really hoped that whatever was going on between Dallas and McCullough could be resolved on schedule. Because if she had to wait just one more second to step into Scottish Faeriedom than she absolutely had to, she might burst from impatience.

Chapter 2

Despite that mental declaration, Sabrina couldn’t help but smile when Dallas showed up fifteen minutes later.

By then, she was fully dressed in a pair of pleated black pants, a fitted brown blouse and dangling earrings made up of coral, gold and ivory beads. The national presses had noted her staid style more than once, but she didn’t care. She could work with the full range of faerie colors when she had to. Sometimes she even got a little crazy with them just because. But mostly she stuck to more conservative combinations, figuring that her bright green and yellow wings were statements enough by themselves.

For his part, Dallas was in a pair of deep blue slacks and a dark purple button-down, which looked anything but feminine on him. Though, in her opinion, he could be in powder-puff pink from head to toe and still look manly. Brown eyes, dark blond hair, muted jade wings, wide shoulders: Sabrina liked the view every time she saw him.

He must have noticed her eyeing him up, because his grin got more noticeable and his Scottish accent thicker. Hey, baby.

Hey, sexy. The response was almost automatic.

And when he crossed the room, she tilted her head obligingly, her eyes closing at the touch of his lips. It was with some difficulty that she forced herself into business mode, stepping back when he tried to deepen the kiss.

He regarded her with more curiosity than anything else. Everything alright?

I hope so, she began. But I don’t know. Why didn’t you tell me about our apparently top-secret meeting with McCullough today?

Dallas’ eyebrows scrunched inward even more, this time from confusion. McCullough? As in Dr. Robert McCullough? Former HPAC employee now resident in Glasgow with his wife and her two children?

The way he rattled that information off was telling in two ways, the first being that he recalled it so fast. Sabrina got the impression that, if she asked him what the man’s exact street address was, her fiancé would be able to disclose that too without checking in on any government databases.

Which was more than a little odd.

His job required him to have a strong handle on a lot of information. But it also required him to have a lot of underlings to sweat the small stuff.

As far as Sabrina knew, McCullough was small stuff. The only reason he’d be on their radar at all was because of his past employer. Other than that stain on his career, he was a good guy and partially responsible for the freedom she now enjoyed. The last time she’d been in HPAC clutches, psychologically scarred and deep in denial, he had jarred her back to reality and the business of getting the hell out of Dodge.

But the way Dallas phrased each question was even more interesting than the backstory. His intonations and expression all showed he had no idea why she had brought their former ally up.

I don’t know about the Glasgow, wife or little kiddies part of all that, but I’m pretty sure we’re still talking about the same person here.

In that case, we don’t have a meeting with him today, top secret or otherwise. Why would we?

Sabrina shook her head in slight annoyance and a whole lot more bewilderment. Don’t ask me. Claire said she got a secure text from you to put it on my unofficial schedule.

Dallas looked downright grave. Sabrina, I’ve not sent Claire anything for days. And definitely not anything schedule-related.

He didn’t ask whether her chief of staff had gotten communications crossed. That notion was almost in-conceivable.

This isn’t good, is it. Sabrina didn’t voice it as a question.

Dallas answered anyway. It might be worse than you realize.

She didn’t sigh, nor did she panic. All she did was wait for him to continue.

McCullough’s one of ours.

One of ours? She repeated. Like a spy?

Sabrina couldn’t imagine him being a very good one. He couldn’t lie to save his life, blushing and stuttering out his thoughts whenever he got flustered. And as she remembered, he got flustered often.

Not a spy, Dallas hedged. More like a contact.

A contact? Considering who and what they were talking about, she couldn’t work out what the difference would be.

He didn’t elaborate. Aye, a contact.

Okay. Sabrina pushed on. And why didn’t I know about this?

The less people who know about our operatives, the better.

She could buy that, but it seemed like the need-to-know list had officially increased by one. How about we sit down and you tell me all about it.

That meant the next fifteen minutes were filled, not with breakfast chitchat but an in-depth debriefing of a classified file. Since Sabrina did a lot more listening than speaking during that stretch, she could have finished off the eggs benedict and hash browns in front of her. Instead, all she did was sip on her black cherry tea, and even those movements were distracted.

It was difficult to concentrate on little things like taste buds considering what Dallas laid out for her.

From what she could gather, McCullough served a dual role, keeping an eye out for unauthorized faerie activity in the area while also serving as a middleman for one of Dallas’ insiders. That actual spy was also someone Sabrina happened to know, though not nearly as well. Much like Martin and Ryan, George wasn’t someone she had thought about in a while.

Once upon a time, he’d been sent snooping around one of her brother’s Glasgow properties to spy on her. He’d been the wrong person for that job though. And not just because he got caught. That could happen to anyone. What proved him unfit was how he’d gone on to spill information during his subsequent interrogation in five minutes flat. Not to mention how he’d developed a nice enough opinion of his sworn enemies that he stuck up for her when positions were reversed.

That constituted one big fail in Sabrina’s book, especially considering how he’d apparently turned total traitor since. Not that she was objecting.

According to Dallas, George – whose real name was Paul Everard – had gone on to research both faeries and his organization further. Those efforts had led him to the ultimate conclusion that he’d been snookered by his employers, but only after he’d moved up the ranks to a mid-management seat in the intelligence department.

It would appear that, somewhere in the middle of his career climb, he had gotten good enough at the game that Dallas decided to enlist him. If it had been anyone else who brought him onboard, Sabrina would have had serious doubts. The same went for McCullough, who she was still perplexed about. But in the end, she trusted that her fiancé knew what he was doing. If he said the two humans had developed spines and skills since her last interactions with them, she was going to take him at his word.

Mostly. The possibility that some outside source may or may not have figured out McCullough’s interspecies connection did give her reason to doubt.

So how do you propose we handle this? Sabrina felt pretty competent in most matters of state, but she was drawing a big fat blank on this one.

I’ve already got McCullough and Paul’s handlers checking in with them.

He had been multitasking throughout his narrative, sending and receiving messages with a spare high-tech faerie phone. His was the same make and model, and therefore should have been uncrackable. But the fact that someone had managed to fake a text message from it to Claire was a solid indication that something had been compromised.

Neither of them wanted to take any chances.

And what about the meeting? Sitting on a backless settee, Sabrina waved her wings in thought behind her. I can only think of a few reasons why someone would want to mess with my schedule, and one of them is an assassination attempt.

Yeah, Dallas agreed, though he continued looking more puzzled than concerned. But any sane spook should work out that you’d ask me about it when it’s so far removed from routine. Which means it would be the worst assassination attempt in history, faerie or human.

Sabrina shrugged, conceding the point. In that case, I got nothing. ‘Cause you just knocked my other ideas out of the water too.

The phone buzzed in Dallas’ hands, and he shifted his attention there to read over the message, relaying it back to her. McCullough has already checked in. He hasn’t noticed anything suspicious, but he’s worrying about his family now.

Understandable.

I’m going to set a protective team on them.

Wingless? She figured utilizing faeries who looked as human as possible was the best route to go.

He shook his head though. "No, we’re tapped out of those agents. They’ll just stay small-sized.

How old are the children? Sabrina had to ask, her head filled with thoughts of babies and toddlers too fragile to survive any real encounters with the HPAC. Girls? Boys?

Two wee girls. Three and five.

She grimaced at the confirmation. You won’t let anything happen to them, right?

I’m going to do everything in my power to keep them safe.

She noticed he hadn’t guaranteed anything, which was probably for the best. He’d promised her security before, and it hadn’t gone well.

What she said was, Don’t spare any expense on this one.

He nodded. Got it.

I’m serious, she pushed. Do whatever it takes.

Dallas took her hand. Sabrina, I get it. I already know who I’m assigning to the task. They’re experts.

She took a deep breath. Okay. Sorry. I’m not trying to say you don’t know what you’re doing. It’s just –

I know, he supplied when she fell short. I know.

Five minutes later, they both left to attend their separate schedules, but Sabrina couldn’t entirely shake her concern while she walked through the Italian palace corridors from the residential side to the executive offices.

The HPAC didn’t scare her the way it used to. Truth was she barely thought of the pack of bigots outside of when they were presented to her in some briefing or another. If it had been a threat directed at her, she knew she could shrug it off. Those were a dime a dozen coming from that group. But it wasn’t her at risk right then. It was two children. Real children a whole lot like the hypothetical ones Dr. Morrison had wanted to experiment on once upon a time.

Sabrina reminded herself how those children would have had wings. Which made a humongous difference in the HPAC’s book. Wings equaled scientific discovery. No wings meant boring. So she couldn’t quite see its operatives going out of their way to physically torture little human girls. What was much more likely was that they’d kill them outright.

It was another possibility she couldn’t bear.

That thought stayed with her through her morning meetings into the afternoon, and it had her rather quiet by the time she got to the private human airport to board her personal jet just a few hours behind schedule. With a folder in hand filled with leftover economic data from her meeting with Geo, and a fresh cup of hot tea waiting for her, she took a seat on one of the custom-colored couches lining the left side.

They were bright green. She might be the Italian faerie queen, but her deepest layers of loyalty still ran toward Scotland. She would never admit that to anyone but her trusted inner circle, yet it still showed in some of her subtle and less-than-subtle decoration choices. Like choosing her brother’s royal court hues on her private plane.

Dallas sat next to her, while Claire took a spot at a window seat