keeping them warm?” Nicky asked with a smirk. She chose to ignore him.
With rosy cheeks, Charles wordlessly shrugged off his suit jacket and placed it over her shoulders like the gentleman he was. “Faiz is king of the Winter Mountains,” he explained when he'd finally found his voice. His eyes darted towards Terelle and away again quickly. “In Zawavia.”
Just like that, Gable understood Terelle's fear. Faeries, no matter their realm, did not like fallen faeries. Coming face to face with a royal would be terrifying for Terelle. “Why is he here?”
“He's one of the Elders.” Charles reached out to pat Terelle's arm. “Do not worry, he cannot harm you in our realm, not without severe consequence.”
That didn't seem to ease Terelle's fears.
Together, the five of them climbed the marble steps leading up to the doors, the place so fancy there were two of them.
“What pretentious ass owns this island anyway?” Nicky questioned.
“Just a businessman,” Charles told him. “He rents it out to whomever needs it for a tidy sum. A team of caretakers and cleaners visit once a week but nobody lives here, so there'll be no one to see our little snowstorm.”
Stationed at various points amongst the trees, so well hidden that even Gable and her sharp eye had almost missed them, Guardians with guns stood stoic and watching, there to protect the Elders inside the house.
They reached the doors where two burly looking guys waited. Charles, Nicky and Zay immediately held up their Guardian badges – kind of like police badges but the symbol had two swords crossed over the letter G, surrounded by flames. Totally not douchey at all.
One of the doormen nodded. He was wide and bald and though he had a large, potato shaped head, his facial features were strangely small. “You're expected. Them too.” He looked down his nose at Gable and Terelle, like the idea of anyone not being a Guardian was simply abhorrent. “An Official will greet you in a minute.”
Inside the beach house was even colder than outside, if possible. When Gable breathed out, her breath misted before her, something she'd loved to do as a child – though the fun had soon worn off when she'd been an orphaned teen living on the streets.
They stepped into a large entrance, with doors leading off on either side and a wide, polished staircase in front of them. Expensive paintings decorated the walls, fancy, pointless statues stood in corners, and Gable stood on a rug so thick her feet sunk in. She decided that whoever had decorated the place was obviously an idiot with way to much cash to flash.
“So who are these Elders?” she asked while they waited for the Official.
Charles blinked at her once, twice. “The details were all in those papers I gave you on the plane. Didn't you read them?”
“No,” she replied, like that should have been obvious.
He glanced between her and Nicky. “I mean. . . The two of you are just. . . How do you even. . . Hopeless, the pair of you. Utterly hopeless.” With a long suffering sigh, he began. “The Elders are made up of seven of the most senior, most skilled Guardians, and each of them heads one continent. You already know there are teams of Keepers stationed in certain areas, like us in New York City. I'm Head Keeper for the NYCGD, and directly above me is the head of the state of New York. He deals with all of the Guardians in the state, including the other teams of Keepers, and then directly above him is the head of our continent – North America. The Trackers usually answer to the head of whichever state or country they were born in, though if they travel all over they deal with the head of whichever place they are in at the time.”
“Right. . . So if you were in Europe you'd have the Keepers in towns or cities or whatever, and they'd answer to. . .”
“The head Guardian of whichever country they were in. France, for example. Or Germany, England, Spain. . .
“And those guys answer to the Elder of
With rosy cheeks, Charles wordlessly shrugged off his suit jacket and placed it over her shoulders like the gentleman he was. “Faiz is king of the Winter Mountains,” he explained when he'd finally found his voice. His eyes darted towards Terelle and away again quickly. “In Zawavia.”
Just like that, Gable understood Terelle's fear. Faeries, no matter their realm, did not like fallen faeries. Coming face to face with a royal would be terrifying for Terelle. “Why is he here?”
“He's one of the Elders.” Charles reached out to pat Terelle's arm. “Do not worry, he cannot harm you in our realm, not without severe consequence.”
That didn't seem to ease Terelle's fears.
Together, the five of them climbed the marble steps leading up to the doors, the place so fancy there were two of them.
“What pretentious ass owns this island anyway?” Nicky questioned.
“Just a businessman,” Charles told him. “He rents it out to whomever needs it for a tidy sum. A team of caretakers and cleaners visit once a week but nobody lives here, so there'll be no one to see our little snowstorm.”
Stationed at various points amongst the trees, so well hidden that even Gable and her sharp eye had almost missed them, Guardians with guns stood stoic and watching, there to protect the Elders inside the house.
They reached the doors where two burly looking guys waited. Charles, Nicky and Zay immediately held up their Guardian badges – kind of like police badges but the symbol had two swords crossed over the letter G, surrounded by flames. Totally not douchey at all.
One of the doormen nodded. He was wide and bald and though he had a large, potato shaped head, his facial features were strangely small. “You're expected. Them too.” He looked down his nose at Gable and Terelle, like the idea of anyone not being a Guardian was simply abhorrent. “An Official will greet you in a minute.”
Inside the beach house was even colder than outside, if possible. When Gable breathed out, her breath misted before her, something she'd loved to do as a child – though the fun had soon worn off when she'd been an orphaned teen living on the streets.
They stepped into a large entrance, with doors leading off on either side and a wide, polished staircase in front of them. Expensive paintings decorated the walls, fancy, pointless statues stood in corners, and Gable stood on a rug so thick her feet sunk in. She decided that whoever had decorated the place was obviously an idiot with way to much cash to flash.
“So who are these Elders?” she asked while they waited for the Official.
Charles blinked at her once, twice. “The details were all in those papers I gave you on the plane. Didn't you read them?”
“No,” she replied, like that should have been obvious.
He glanced between her and Nicky. “I mean. . . The two of you are just. . . How do you even. . . Hopeless, the pair of you. Utterly hopeless.” With a long suffering sigh, he began. “The Elders are made up of seven of the most senior, most skilled Guardians, and each of them heads one continent. You already know there are teams of Keepers stationed in certain areas, like us in New York City. I'm Head Keeper for the NYCGD, and directly above me is the head of the state of New York. He deals with all of the Guardians in the state, including the other teams of Keepers, and then directly above him is the head of our continent – North America. The Trackers usually answer to the head of whichever state or country they were born in, though if they travel all over they deal with the head of whichever place they are in at the time.”
“Right. . . So if you were in Europe you'd have the Keepers in towns or cities or whatever, and they'd answer to. . .”
“The head Guardian of whichever country they were in. France, for example. Or Germany, England, Spain. . .
“And those guys answer to the Elder of
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