Prince from the Other Side

Together, Cass and I dismantled the gear—guitar, mic, amps, pedalboards, and endless wires, and packed them up into the trunk of her brother's car where it was parked out front.Waiting there, like one of her court sentinels back in Faerie, was dear Toby: a bulky Midwestern American beefcake of a man, pale from years of night work and as yellow-haired as a cornfield. He was about twenty-four or twenty-five—and he was just about my best mortal friend in this fragile world. He and Cass were close, and he played the protective big brother to both of us. For instance, never letting us get on the train with all our gear, which we'd never be able to replace if it were stolen. He was the third and final member of our little crew: my rag tag roadies. As always, he could see the tension written on my face."How'd we do?" he asked, aiming his question at Cass. "Brilliant. One of the fans actually wanted the set list, you believe that?""Don't overdo it on the confidence," laughed Toby, cl

I knew the danger of wishing too often and too hard. Wishes were not simple things: there always had to be a magical balance in the world, and this fallout from my last wish—catching the eye of Sy Dage's entourage—should have been enough to warn me. I had a sinking feeling that if I wished myself out of my Stellar Lounge obligation, I might end in a plane crash or some other terrible accident. I wanted to continue my mortal life. I just didn't want to do it anywhere near Sy Dage. I didn't set an alarm for the next morning, so I woke up comfortably at noon, cocooned in the nest of overstuffed pillows and fluffy blankets that made up my bed. I'd taken a lavender salt bath the night before, but as soon as I levered myself out of bed, I wandered back to the bathroom, stripped off my overlong t shirt, and sank into a fresh bath. I knew I spent too much of our precious spare cash on creature comforts, but the creature comforts of mortality were too valuable to me. The smooth, ticklish lick

Unseelie magic tided over the stadium with the force of tsunami coming into shore. I flinched bodily, partly from visceral disgust and partly from astonished admiration. The lyrics rolled, just that one lonely voice, flowing into the dark. It was gorgeous—darkly, silkily, deeply gorgeous. And the magic inside of it was scathing, seething, like ripe rot and h*llish heat wrapped in chocolate. I felt myself wavering on the spot, and I grabbed Toby's arm for support. I'm sure he mistook it for excitement, because he grinned at me, electrified, as Sy Dage's lonely voice roiled through the air, binding the audience into an invocation of emotive power. Suddenly, the darkness behind Sy was broken by fresh spotlights, revealing a full band—drummer, bassist, vocalists, backup guitar, strings. The rich sound of the band swelled into life. A stagehand scurried out onto stage and handed Sy his guitar, which Sy slid on with smooth, practiced ease. The jumotron cameras zoomed in on his fingers

I knew who to expect before I opened the door, but still I only had a moment to brace myself for the devastating stare from my uncle, the High Fae Lord Raelen, before I was face-to-face with him.There's a reason mortals have always been awed by fae-folk in their full, true forms. Lord Raelen was nearly seven feet tall to mortal eyes—which mine, at the moment, were. His whole being shimmered with an opalescent brilliance, from the elegant folds of his long white cloak to the silver sheen of his long, slick hair. His face was a portrait of otherwordly dignity and nobility, with sharp, slanting cheekbones and cool silver-blue eyes. Lord Raelen was one of my few true family members, my father's brother. He'd raised me, after my parents' deaths in my youth. He was my only real connection back to Faerie during my stint as a mortal away from home, as well as a High Lord of the Seelie Council. And he looked very, very angry. I dipped a courtesy. "I greet you warmly, Uncle. Well met."B

We kept the practice room past our allotted time and only left when the studio manager came to us and told us the custodial staff wanted to go home so we better wrap up. Sy raised his eyes to me, fierce and dark and expectant. I felt the spark in my own gaze. I wasn't ready to say goodbye. "There's a good pub around the corner," said Sy."What, do you know all the London pubs?" I laughed. I didn't know when I had gone from scowling at him to laughing with him, but here it was. "More or less," he laughed right along with me. "The magic gives me a hand when I need it, of course. Or Google.""The greatest magic of all," I giggled. "But yeah, a pint sounds great."So we sat together in a booth in the pub that was reliably around the corner, as promised (either by Sy's gratuitous use of magic or his surreptitious use of Google). He ordered us strong IPAs—another favorite of mine, but I didn't ask how he knew. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the furtive barrage of phone cameras