Crown of Shadows (Court of Midnight and Deception #1) - K. M. Shea Page 0,39

air and puffed my cheeks as I thought.

In the few days that had passed since I hired Skye and Indigo, they explained that an advisor was an official Court position, granted to fae who were exceptionally intelligent and capable of helping the ruling monarch make good decisions.

Basically, he or she was an experienced expert I could consult if I needed advice. It was an incredibly influential position…and no one had applied for it yet.

I’m pretty sure no one applied at first because they didn’t know how to best appeal to me, and after what Skye said about my questions being unspeakably rude when I was interviewing the steward candidates, I’m pretty sure that really miffed them, and now the nobles were paying me back by refusing to help.

Oh, they’d cave eventually. But when I finally did start receiving offers, I had no idea how I was going to choose someone that didn’t intend to manipulate me for their own purposes.

“I have, however, interviewed the candidates answering the online advertisement for the director of security position, as you instructed,” Skye said.

“And?”

Skye pressed her lips together—flattening them. I’d come to learn that this, and the crease on her forehead, were her two only real tells of displeasure. “I regret to say that there was only one candidate I found worthwhile, and I do not know that you will approve of him.”

I grabbed an apple—swiped from the kitchens—which I’d kept in a duffle bag. “Why wouldn’t I approve of him?”

Skye glanced down at her tablet. “You expressly wished to hire a wizard.”

“Yes.”

“He’s a werewolf.”

I cringed. “And he was the best candidate?”

Skye swiped through some screens. “He has the best background, experience, and moral discipline. Several wizards applied for the position, but most of them were underqualified. The one candidate I had hopes for proved to be incompetent during her interview.”

I chewed on my lip as I thought.

I’d wanted a wizard as my director of security because wizards are naturally immune to most kinds of fae magic. That would be a seriously big help in trying to keep me safe while I played the fae’s game.

“Should I post the position to the Curia Cloisters website again?” Skye asked.

“Not yet—I should at least meet him first. Where is he?”

“I took him to the stables—as you instructed I should do if I found a worthy candidate.”

“Okay, let’s go meet him. Come on, Indigo.” I marched out of my room and veered down the hallway.

I still hadn’t slept great since becoming queen, so I’d spent my nights walking the mansion when reviewing finances got too depressing. Which meant I was getting more familiar with the layout.

“Do you need to change?” Indigo bounced at my side, her glasses nearly sliding off her nose.

“Nah—the dress is machine washable.” I tossed my apple up in the air and caught it. “Anything I should know about the position, Skye?”

Skye spent the several minute walk from my room down to the base floor of the mansion and then out back to the stables describing the various duties a director of security would have.

It really made me sad there were no good wizard candidates, and by the time we reached the so-expensive-I-was-still-cringing-stables, I was leaning more toward posting the ad again.

Together, my steward, companion, and I clattered into the stable aisle, eliciting noises from the horsey residents.

About half of the sun stallions were gone, but my bony, dull-coated night mares had taken up residence in the empty stalls, and they were the ones who called out to me. They tried to sound cute—they really did. But instead of nickering warmly like Fax, the old sun stallion I was keeping, they seemed to almost growl.

Their noises made the young man standing in the center of the aisle turn around to face us and bow in one smooth movement. He’d probably heard us when we’d been walking across the lawn, given his werewolf hearing.

“Queen Leila, might I present Chase Washington of the Northern Lakes Pack,” Skye announced.

“Hello, Chase.” I smiled.

“Queen Leila,” Chase said.

He was a few years older than me—maybe on the edge of thirty—but werewolves age slowly, so I could have been wrong about that. I mean, they don’t age as slowly as fae, but magic seems to preserve supernaturals. Age was always an iffy thing among our kind.

His warm sepia-brown skin tone made the cutting yellow color of his eyes—a mark of his werewolf heritage—that much more startling. His black hair was very precisely cut—short on sides and slightly longer on top with