Chapter Two
Behind the expensive sunglasses Cricket wore, the Snapdragon Estate rose high in the sky, a lush waste of money if you asked her. The Estate was every other fae’s wet dream but since her mother died, it had taken on a hollow feeling every time she was called home. Large and imposing, so much money put into the carvings rivaling gothic architecture, the sprawling house wasn’t a home; it was a prison. No one came out to chain her as the car circled the large fountain in the middle of the driveway, but they were heavy on her wrists none-the-less.
The house reminded Cricket of the name she had to live up to.
As the Rolls Royce rolled to a stop before the house, Peri, the house manager, promptly opened her door before she could do so herself. She was prone to doing such things just to send him into a tizzy but today, she couldn’t seem to get the energy to tease him. The air was heavier at the Estate today than it had been since the last time she’d been home.
When had that even been?
Frowning, Cricket glanced sideways at Peri. “When was I last home, Peri? My memory seems to be slipping.”
“As it’s want to do the older you get,” he replied fondly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Indeed, Peri was the only warmth Cricket found in the place. “It’s been two years now, bug.”
Cricket’s chest squeezed. Two years since she’d been home. How had so much time passed despite all her work? “Oh, Peri. . .”
“I don’t blame you, bug. You were proving your worth—quite admirably I might add—and time flies when you’re having fun.” The older fae smiled gently and cupped her shoulder quick enough to be seen as proper though Cricket could tell he wanted to do more. Peri was one of the only fae she trusted completely. He didn’t want to use her, didn’t do anything more than offer the paternal care her father never had. “I’m so proud of you,” he added, but though she could see the pride shining in his eyes, there was something there in the tightness around his eyes.
Cricket paused and studied him. Whatever was going on, Peri would know. He always knew. “Do you know why I’ve been called home?” Her voice was hesitant, unsure if she wanted answers from her friend.
Peri nodded. “I do, but I’d prefer you wait for your father to explain rather than you ask me,” he winced. “Just know you should steel your spine for this one, bug.”
“That bad?”
“Depends who you ask.” Peri gestured toward the large double doors. “Let us go inside rather than stand out here like targets. Those brilliant pink wings would be easy to pick out among the greenery.”
Cricket rolled her eyes as she was often found doing growing up around Peri. “As if your bright periwinkle wings were not easily picked out.”
He grinned. “But killing me would do nothing other than inconvenience the Estate. Killing you would send the Snapdragon family into chaos. You know this.”
“How could I not?” Cricket parroted. “I’m reminded of it any time I choose to move outside of my own home.” She side-eyed him. “Speaking of, have you considered my job offer?”
Peri tensed, giving her the answer she knew was coming. “You know I would love to work for you, bug.”
“But?”
“But your father denied the request under the guise that I’m too valuable here.”
Her nose wrinkling, Cricket followed Peri into the house that was so heavily decorated, so gaudy, it was almost nauseating to her. “But that makes no sense. You’d be just as valuable under my roof, especially since I’m the heir.” When Peri shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to hide his feelings for her like other fae were apt to do, her frown deepened. “Peri?”
“You’re to go straight to your father’s office, bug.” There was a sadness to his words. She didn’t want to go so far as to say his words were desolate, but they were certainly heavy with disappointment.
“You’re freaking me out, Peri. Lighten up. There’s not much my father could say that would be so bad as all that, right?” When he didn’t answer, Cricket’s eyes widened. “Peri—”
“Go on into your father’s office, bug,” he interrupted, gesturing toward the large, carved wooden door.
Her father was a fan of opulence and history and so the door depicted a scene of the first Snapdragon battling a clan of werewolves. He was an ancestor that had died long before Cricket was born, but every Snapdragon knew of the Zephyr, the one who tamed the werewolves from savage beasts into functioning members of society. Cricket didn’t know if she believed the werewolves needed tamed at all or if it had been some elaborate ruse to cull the werewolf population—after all, history was written by the victors—but it was a pretty enough story.
Looking at the scene of the door, Cricket glanced over at Peri one last time. “Should I be worried, Peri?” He nodded once and turned to walk away. “Thank you,” she called, making him freeze. “For warning me.”
Peri turned back one last time, his eyes sad but that pride still shone in his eyes, pride for a young fae who he’d raised when her own father couldn’t be bothered to do so. “It would have been an honor to work with you in your household, bug.” And then he was gone, back to his duties for the house.
Of course, if Peri had been able to work for her, he would have been making much more money and done far less work. Her father likely suspected that and denied the request, but she could reason with him. She’d spent her life convincing him that her ideas were worth something. Peri’s family owed the Snapdragon family generations of service sure, but why couldn’t Peri spend the rest of his with her being treated far better than he was here? He deserved it.
Steeling her spine just as Peri had suggested, Cricket knocked on the door in a chaotic pattern that would both annoy her father and let him know it was her at the door. When his brisk, “come in”, echoed through the door, she pushed at the heavy wood that felt like nothing in her hands. As slight at Cricket was, the fae blood she carried was capable of things most others weren’t. Such was the benefit of being a Snapdragon. Better strength, though not as strong as other species, the ability to see magic others couldn’t, the perfectly tuned instincts about business. Cricket preferred putting those powers toward marketing for the numerous businesses the Snapdragon family owned, and had eagerly taken it upon herself to show her father she was more than capable of taking over the family when he one day returned to the fade.
Graeme Snapdragon sat at his desk in the rear of the room. The large piece of wood was more monstrous than functional, an intimidation tactic that did nothing to intimidate her, not when she’d grown up weaving through the many legs of the desk. The entire thing appeared as if it had been taken straight from the swamps and polished, looping legs that spread out in a pattern of roots searching for nutrients. If it weren’t so masculine, it would be pretty.
“Welcome home, daughter,” he said without looking up from whatever paperwork he was pouring over. “It feels like it has been an eternity since you’ve stood before me.”
“Peri informed me it’s been two years,” Cricket replied, moving forward to perch on one of the plush chairs. Her wings remained out, so she balanced on the edge rather than taking an actual seat. The chair was modified for creatures with wings but she much preferred to be positioned in a way where she could look her father eye to eye. If she sat in the seat, she’d be lower than him, which was entirely the point of the chairs. Many a business partner realized it when it was too late to move, once it would be seen as rude and restless.
“Has it been so long?” He hummed low in his throat and glanced up at Cricket over the stack of papers. “Peri is better at keeping time than I am, it seems. I thought it was just a few years ago that you were still weaving between the roots of my desk and giggling when I tried to catch you.”
Cricket tilted her head. It wasn’t often that her father reminisced about her being a small child so long ago—she was well over two centuries now—but when he went down that road, bad news tended to follow. The last time he’d done so, he’d been sending her to a university she hadn’t wanted to go to though it was prestigious enough. In the end, she’d decided it didn’t matter where she went as long as she was allowed to study whatever she wanted, which she had been. But knowing that and seeing her father use the same tactic now, Cricket began to fidget with her fingers where her father couldn’t see. Anxiety bubbled beneath her skin, but she kept it in check. Snapdragons were not vessels of emotion. They were meant to be vessels of duty.
“Which reminds me, why did you deny my request to have Peri work at my estate?”
Her father set the papers down and steepled his fingers as he looked at her. “I know very well the type of work you’d have Peri do, Cricket. You’re fond of the old fae. I understand that, but he’s required to work for his favor. You know that.”
“He would be working thoroughly,” Cricket argued. “I can show itemized lists of what his duties would be—”
“It’s already been written off. My answer is firm.”
Cricket’s lips slammed shut at the command, her shoulders holding so much tension in them, her wings remained still behind her, not even a twitch. Her father would never allow Peri to leave, and despite that making her sad, she kept her emotions to herself for now. As a child, she’d been punished for allowing her emotions to get the better of her. Snapdragons were stoic and proper, hard and commanding. While Cricket was none of those things, she’d been trained so thoroughly that she knew how to pretend she was, but she hated feeling so caged. Her father might as well have clipped her wings with that training, if not for the utter determination that she would one day rule the family and therefore could make her own rules.
“How was Manhattan?” her father asked, studying her closely, looking for cracks in her training. He was always looking for more weaknesses so that he could attack them and make them stronger.
“The same as always. No one seems to care about who I am passed my name, only what I can offer them.” She waved her hand through the air. “They never change.”
“The masses don’t. They all expect something from you, want something from you. That’s why it’s important to pick and choose who you give to—”
“In order to protect the family,” Cricket finished with a roll of her eyes. “I know the speech, Father.”
“Then you know you have a duty to fulfill.” He picked up a folder from the desk. The manila folder was plain enough, her name written in the elegant script of the secretary across the top of it. There were enough papers in the file that it was thick and heavy as he passed it into Cricket’s hands.
She frowned down at the thick folder. “What’s this?”
He pointed to the folder as if it held all the answers. “I’d like you to pick one from that stack. They’ve all been approved as great options.”
Cricket looked down at the folder in her hands and flipped it open to the first page. There was a bunch of information on the page, including family history, education, and anything else. The picture held a stern fae male, younger than her by a few years. His jawline was too pretty for Cricket’s tastes but that hardly mattered.
“Are you looking at a merger again, Father?” Cricket asked. “You know I don’t prefer the business side of things. I much prefer the marketing to recruiting and scouting.”
“Yes, I know.” Her father nodded his head. “And your marketing plan for Jewelton was very clever. We’ve increased sales by three hundred percent because of that alone in the last year.” Cricket beamed under the praise, but her father wasn’t finished. “However, this isn’t business in the way you’re thinking.”
Frowning, Cricket flipped through the pages, seeing male after male with their picture and information. There were different types of men, some she was familiar with, others she wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole, but they all stood proper in the photographs. Names, addresses, family history. Her father had even gone so far as to list their weaknesses. Alcoholism was listed—a feat for the fae—as well as gambling addictions, abuse. . .
“What is this?” Cricket asked, confused. She prided herself on her cleverness, but something about this situation was making her question that fact. She couldn’t put two and two together.
“I know you prefer males to females,” Snapdragon continued. “That’s why I’ve excluded the women, however, if you’d like to see those options as well, they’re available.” His voice was so calm, so sure.