Faeling

Every eye in the restaurant was focused on Merritt as he mopped up the wine in his lap and called over a server.

“Make sure she gets a cab, if you would,” he requested softly. The server hurried off with a nod. Merritt pulled out his wallet and left enough money on the table to cover the bill and a generous tip—hopefully it would serve as an appropriate apology for the scene Rhiannon had made. It wasn’t the worst break up he’d ever had, but the most flamboyant he’d had to deal with since his teenage years. He rolled his green eyes at the idea of throwing wine at someone.

How childish.

Still, it wasn’t the fact that Rhiannon had made a scene that bothered him as he left the restaurant and climbed into his car—it was the way she did it. Merritt knew that she only had one skill, not an uncommon thing—and he knew that she was quite good with her ‘green thumb’, but he’d never seen her wither something on purpose, or that quickly. She wasn’t known for being a particularly powerful faeling, and the ability to grow plants wasn’t a skill taken very seriously, but he knew one thing for certain: if she hadn’t left when she did, Rhiannon would have started a fire with that rose.

Merritt, as someone raised in the fae culture, was entirely aware of all twenty-three skills. He knew that command of fire was one, but it was so rare that there hadn’t been word of a fire-gift for almost a century. That didn’t mean that it didn’t exist, just that nobody had been born with a fire-gift powerful enough to be on anyone’s radar for years. Either way, it didn’t matter. Fire-gifted couldn’t create fire, just control it. What Merritt had seen was Rhiannon almost starting a fire on her own—that in and of itself was beyond unsettling.

He drove for a while, not caring where he went. He needed to think, and he didn’t want to go home yet. Merritt cruised throughout the city, both wondering if he should take any action regarding what he’d seen with Rhiannon and trying to decide how to proceed with Oz. The former, while it bothered him to admit it, came to a fairly simple conclusion. Merritt really hadn’t seen Rhiannon do anything wrong, and if she could create fire, it was a brilliant and interesting thing that powerful fae might want to investigate—but it really wasn’t anything more than a remarkable tidbit that would end up in the papers (if faelings had newspapers). Even aside from that, if he had seen her do something she shouldn’t have, she was Kiernan Grey’s niece, as she so helpfully pointed out before. And she was his favorite, which may or may not have been his reason for pursuing a relationship in the first place. It was always good to have more contacts in the Council than just his father—this way nobody could accuse his father of playing favorites when he was elected.

Merritt set aside the issue of Rhiannon as a closed case for now, and began to mull over the puzzle of Oz. Obviously, he needed to set up an exhibition of her work and make sure it went over well. Then, somehow, he would have to convince her that he was interested in her, date her for a bit and well... Win her. The whole plan seemed rather deceitful and mean, even to him, but he’d made a promise to himself long ago that he would do whatever it took. He would win the world, no matter how many kind, genuine people he had to step on as he went. It was the way of the world, wasn’t it? The ambitious do what they must to get what they want and people in the way get nothing but sorrow. It was their own fault, wasn’t it? If they would help themselves then they wouldn’t be in a position to be squashed by someone more powerful. Take what you want and give nothing back—not even pity.

He continued to drive and justify his plan to himself—absolutely not feeling guilt for anything—for almost an hour. Merritt simply let his hands on the wheel lead him where they may. He realized, after a bit, that he was perhaps a bit more concerned with Rhiannon than he realized—despite coming to an inevitable conclusion that he could do nothing. Without realizing where he was going, Merritt had driven straight to Rhiannon’s flower shop, Amaranta.

It was on fire.

-----

The next morning Merritt lay in bed and for the first time in his life, didn’t want to get up. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know exactly what to do. For the first time in his life, he felt helpless.

There was something very, very wrong with what had happened to Rhiannon’s shop. He could only be thankful that no one had been hurt. He didn’t know who to tell or if he should talk to someone about the fact that Rhiannon had, in all probability, burned down her own shop. Insurance fraud meant nothing to Merritt—that wasn’t his problem. His problem was that he knew Rhiannon had a power nobody knew even existed in faelings and now she was lashing out with it.

What finally got Merritt out of bed was the ringing of his phone. With surprising speed, he marched to the kitchen and picked it up. It was Theo, of course. Merritt almost always called the office or appeared there by nine am and it was now edging towards ten-thirty.

“What’s wrong?” Theo didn’t even bother saying hello.

“Nothing,” Merritt replied shortly, annoyed with his friend. “I decided to sleep in. Is that a crime now?”

There was a brief pause and a rustle, like Theo had sat down behind his desk and cleared all the papers to one side. “What happened, Merritt?”

“I broke it off with Rhiannon last night,” he sullenly admitted.

He was met with a long silence. “Is that why you’re upset?” Merritt could sense Theo trying to prod at his emotions, knowing that something was being held back.

Merritt sighed. As much as he liked to keep to himself, Theo was too close to him to be fooled by something like that. He gave in, as he always did when it came to Theo.

“Can you meet me at the Common? Bring coffee.”

-----

“And you’re certain no one was hurt?”

“Yes, yes, I stopped and asked an officer. There wasn’t a soul inside... But there’s no way she didn’t start it.”

Theo’s brow furrowed. Despite, or maybe because of, his skill in emotion reading, Theo wasn’t good at personal conflict. Business issues didn’t phase him, but this wasn’t business anymore.

“I think you have to tell your father.”

Merritt laughed aloud at the suggestion and the concerned look on his friend’s face. Simply talking it over in the sunshine had eased his anxiety. “Tell my father? Are we sixteen?”

“No, of course not. But he’s a Council member, Merritt. He will know what to do, if anything needs to be done. If any action must, in fact, be taken against Rhiannon, I can’t think of anyone better than Elias to convince her uncle to do it by the book. He’s new to the Council, but well-liked and respected. If you come to them with this, they’ll dismiss it as a lovers’ spat and will never take you seriously again. You need your father on your side.”

Merritt thought for a moment. “You’re right, of course. I’ll sleep on it tonight and decide tomorrow if I will discuss it with anyone.”

“Be careful, Merritt.” He caught Theo’s eyes. Merritt saw the concern shining in his brown eyes. Beneath the worry be saw the only flaw he ever saw in Theo—a lack of faith in himself. Merritt pushed away the familiar pang of sadness. He knew that Theo’s flaw didn’t matter, as long as he didn’t have any flaws himself. He had to be perfect. He had to be set in stone. The world was welcome to crumble around him as long as he held firm.

“Don’t be silly, Theo. I’ll be fine. Rhiannon’s threat didn’t mean anything, and if I bring it to my father I doubt he’ll think any of it important enough to discuss with the rest of the Council.”

Theo looked at him for a long moment and Merritt knew he was reading his feelings. He was steel and granite and there was nothing to read. Finally, Theo blinked. “I have to get back to the office for a lunch meeting.”

“Alright,” Merritt agreed smoothly. “I don’t have anyone to see until tonight. I think I’ll make a few calls regarding Daedalus.”