Cursed To Death

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Sir Rodney took a sip of Fae ale, feeling the buzz of the lager hit his bloodstream. The thick malt caused a pleasant hum that finally began to lift his spirits. Under the circumstances, it was good to see Ethan McGregor’s establishment filled with happy patrons. The Fair Lady was a good place for his constituents to see their king out and about enjoying life as though he hadn’t a care in the world… as though nothing was amiss.

It was important to keep up appearances even as darkness crept upon them. In the three hundred years he’d ruled, he’d never seen anything as devastating. Fae magick was under attack and not even his top advisors could stop it. Even his most trusted investigator had come up empty-handed. But it had to be dealt with and eradicated before the Midsummer Night’s Ball a few evenings hence. It had to be or everything would fall to ruin.

His personal bodyguard, MacDougall, inclined his head closer, pulling him from his thoughts.

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