To Catch a Queen by Shanna Swendson Page B

world.
    “So, what does Sophie think’s wrong with me?” she asked, after taking a sip of a laser-red drink and finding it disappointingly bland. Even the bite of the alcohol was subdued.
    He choked after swallowing a sip of his own drink. She patted him on the back until he could breathe again. Blinking tears out of his eyes, he gasped a couple of times, then said, “She believes you are under some kind of bond or thrall.” He put his glass down on the bar and grabbed her hand. She couldn’t help but yelp out loud at his touch. It was so startlingly real. And cold. Nodding, he added, “And I concur.”
    He moved to withdraw his hand, but she clutched it desperately, unwilling to let go and lose the sensation. “This is something different from the effects of being in the Realm and drinking the Kool-Aid?”
    “I am aware of no beverage served in the Realm called Kool-Aid.”
    Trying not to roll her eyes, she said, “You know what I mean. This is different from that?”
    “I believe so. When did it begin?”
    She downed the rest of her drink and signaled for another. “Well, let’s see … I was kind of in a haze for the first few weeks after getting back. I was on fire onstage, but everything else was dim. Since I only felt alive when I was performing, I threw myself into it. That was when my career just exploded. They stopped talking about looking for a permanent lead, and I got all kinds of buzz. Then I started feeling better about the rest of my life. Not normal, but not in the same kind of fog. I seemed to have hit a plateau a few weeks ago, where I wasn’t getting any better. At least, not that I noticed. Then last week I started going downhill, to where I am now. I’m not as foggy as I was when I first got back, but I am kind of numb. I think I’d be begging you to take me back to the Realm so I could feel something if I didn’t have the show. That gives me a huge fix. So, Doc, what’s the diagnosis?”
    “Why haven’t you said anything to your sister?”
    Her new drink arrived, and she swallowed half of it before saying, “She has enough to worry about with the deadline for getting Jen back coming up. It’ll be seven years in just a couple of days, and that’s the cutoff.” The swirling colors in his mercury eyes bored into her, and she added sheepishly, “And I was afraid. I was doing so well in my work that I didn’t want to lose it. I didn’t want to be normal again.”
    “Have you considered that your success may have been because it was the only time you felt truly alive, so you threw yourself into your performances?” He visibly braced himself, took a drink, then took her hand again and said earnestly, “You will never be entirely normal, Emily Drake.” His voice was a little husky, but she wasn’t sure if that was because of emotion or the effect of the alcohol.
    Feeling a little flustered herself, she said, “You almost make that sound like a compliment.”
    “You have fae blood. Of course you’re not normal.”
    “I’ve had fae blood my whole life, but my career didn’t start working until all this happened to me.”
    “I thought it happened just before. That was how I found you, after all.”
    “So even if you’d never grabbed me, that would still have been my big break that made me a star?”
    “Perhaps not to the same extent, since you would have had no reason to push yourself as hard as you have.”
    The bartender slid a fresh drink in front of her. It was just as tasteless as the last one, but at least she was starting to feel like she was supposed to be numb. “I guess that means that the key to acting success is to perform like it’s your only reason for living.” She raised her glass in a toast, drained it, and signaled for another.
    “I do wonder where these bonds came from, as I am certain they were not there before,” Eamon said, staring at her like he was analyzing her aura. “Perhaps it has something to do with that impostor queen.”
    Even as tipsy