That doesn’t mean anything. Gisila probably would have used a fake name if she was dealing with fae since they can’t lie.
“Is she a dragon shifter?” I asked rephrasing my question.
I thought the minotaur might stay silent as I leaned over him, trying to gauge his reaction to my question. To my surprise, he blurted out, “The Queen Glowille of the Seelie Court doesn’t have dealings with a dragon shifter!”
“Then who is she?” I asked.
The phrasing he used had almost sounded like a prophecy from an oracle, but there was no way a local Court could afford to pay for one. At least, they couldn’t afford tolegallypurchase one.
Unease brewed in my gut.
The supernatural most likely to be taken advantage of—and be forcibly held against their will—were oracles.
Their ability to see the future was highly valued, particularly by anyone who wanted more power.
But oracles are so rare. How could a small, local Court hold onto an oracle if they ever found one? The moment word got out, they’d be attacked.
The minotaur made a rumbling sound of distress and looked away from me.
I wasn’t going to get anything out of him. Sarge, Grove, or another fae who better understood fae psychology might be able to if he wasn’t silenced by a geas.
I stood up with a sigh and holstered my handgun.
Considine smiled at me—not the overly charming one he’d given earlier. Something truer, that seemed to come from the darkness of his eyes. “I love that you can be so intimidating.”
I blinked as I stood up. “But I’m not? I mean, slayers can be with our masks—it gives us a certain eerie quality.”
Considine shook his head. “You’d stop questioning why everyone thinks we’re such a matched pair if you were just a little more self-aware.”
“Now you sound like Sunshine,” I said.
Considine tsked. “That won’t do. I am not aiming to be your Magiford bestie. My seduction attempts must be failing.”
“They aren’t,” I assured him, then froze when I realized what I had just said.
“Theyaren’t?” Considine repeated, his voice perking with interest. “Are you finally growing aware of my many charms?”
My embarrassment—as massive as it was—momentarily paused as I stared up at Considine in confusion.Growing aware of his charms? He must know how attractive and fun he is. Doesn’t he?
Him not knowing felt unimaginable as he leaned into my personal space with his tousled dark hair, five o’clock shadow that ruined some of the professionalism of the task force uniform because it was plain distracting, and a glimmer of thereckless smile he got from the high of fighting together still playing on his lips.
But had I ever complimented him like he complimented me?
“Considine…” I said. “Even my nearly blind Great Aunt Nessa couldn’t miss how incredibly handsome you are.”
As far as compliments went, it was pretty poor delivery.
I felt a little bad about it, until Considine chuckled, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
This might have been a tactical error.
“You think I’m incredibly handsome?” he asked.
“Um.” I desperately looked for something work related to turn my attention to. “Oh, look. The cleanup crew is here,” I said, my voice cracking with anxiety.
Headlights cast a glare on the street. Two cars cruised down the abandoned street, tires squealing when they abruptly stopped and parked haphazardly.
“Of course, they have perfect timing as usual,” Considine growled.
