“Queen Leila,” Chase called.
I picked my way to the werewolf, jumping over small shrubs and walking through the landscaping since he was crouched by the fallen giraffe’s feet.
He pointed to the metal plates that were fitted around the giraffe’s three surviving feet. “Someone removed—and in some places cut—the bolts that secured it to the ground. It looks like a golf ball hit—there I think—loosening the plates enough so it tipped a little, then naturally fell in the direction of its missing leg.”
I was going to ask how he knew a ball had hit it, but when he pointed to the spot on its neck it was pretty obvious—the golf ball had burned through the statue’s paint.
I edged around the statue and touched the bald spot. “Feels like magic. Fae magic.” I flicked my fingers, trying to get rid of the sticky feeling.
“Smells like it, too,” Chase confirmed.
Lord Linus crouched down. “I don’t get it. Leila is queen—they shouldn’t be able to hurt her like this.”
“If they can make it into an accidental death, it seems the magic won’t stop it,” Skye said. “Given the experience at the restaurant.”
“The amount of work it takes to set something like that up is incredibly difficult, though, and they shouldn’t be able to pull it off with this frequency,” Lord Linus argued.
“Maybe we’re looking at this wrong?” Indigo asked.
“I don’t see how.” I tapped my chin in thought. “I’m pretty clearly the target.” I paused and looked at my free hand.
Why is it empty?
I glanced at my other hand, holding my clutch, and slapped my thigh. “No!”
“Queen Leila?” Skye quizzically asked as Chase took a phone call.
I ran around the giraffe, stopping with heartbreak when I saw my travel mug tipped over with my precious coffee splattered on the ground. “My coffee.”
Skye heaved a sigh with relief, then started patting her pockets—probably in search of her tin of antacids.
Indigo shook her head in disgust. “Serves you right for partaking in that sacrilegious drink!”
“You’re just ignorant,” I said. “Your eyes haven’t been opened to the glories of coffee.”
“I’m fine with that,” Indigo said. “In fact, I’d prefer they stay shut.”
Lord Linus had been glancing out at the Court, and seemed tuned out of Indigo’s and my play fight. He ended it by awkwardly patting me on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re safe, pumpkin. But it’s getting crowded up here, and I see a lord I owe—er, I should mingle.” He winked, then glided off.
“Pumpkin?” I snarled at his retreating back.
He waved, and I was half tempted to pick up my fallen travel mug and pitch it at his head, but Chase forestalled me.
“The man I set up at the security cameras called.” He returned his cellphone to the holster on his pants belt—a very dad-ish gesture of his.
I whistled in appreciation. “Whoa—you had someone stationed there? You’re thorough.”
I’m so glad I hired Chase instead of a wizard. He’s worth his weight and his wolf form’s weight in gold!
“The camera caught the ball that hit it. He was able to trace it back to the hole where it was putted,” Chase continued.
I straightened in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes.” Chase’s voice turned grim. “The fae who hit it was with Lady Chrysanthe’s group.”
I leaned back on my heels. “Ahhh. Why does that not surprise me?”
“My men are taking the fae aside for questioning,” Chase said. “You should head back to the mansion.”
