On the Prowl

stand it anymore and collapsed onto the bed in a fit of half-hysterical giggles.
    “I didn’t know you guys had brothels,” I wheezed, after a moment.
    The Fey had placed the basin on the floor and was balancing over it, taking off one of his boots. What looked like half a gallon of dirty water flowed out of it. “We don’t.”
    “Then what was going on back there?”
    “We could go back and take a look, but we might get more offers to join in.” He tossed the basin’s contents out the window, letting in a chilly gust of wind and rain before snapping it shut again.
    “I thought the Fey had, uh, problems in that area.”
    “What area?”
    “Conception and, um…” He looked up from emptying the other boot, amusement filling his eyes, and I trailed off.
    “Not for lack of trying,” he assured me. He unwrapped a sodden piece of cloth attached to his leg that I realized after a moment was a knife sheath. “This isn’t a brothel,” he added. “It’s a rendezvous point. Our people often marry for fertility instead of attraction, but that tends to pall quickly. Sex isn’t as enjoyable if it’s being done only to conceive.”
    I just nodded, getting a clear look at him for the first time. The Light Fey are as legendary for their beauty as the Dark are for their gruesomeness, but it’s a haughty perfection, sharp as pain. There is no softness about it, no sense that underneath the glacial exterior is anything less frozen. They have the awesomeness of primal forces, like an avalanche or a volcanic eruption. And they use their beauty like a weapon, just as effectively as their swords or enchantments.
    Which is why it was a surprise to see one looking like a drowned rat.
    Beads of moisture clung to his high arched brows and dark lashes and his hair lay plastered to his skull. His soggy blue tunic and leggings outlined a nice body, but for once I was too amused to care. He also didn’t seem to be glowing anymore. He could have passed for a very tall, very wet human, except for the pair of gracefully curved ears that stuck up from the dripping mass on his head.
    I grinned, and he arched an eyebrow. “You should see yourself,” he told me. I was actually glad I couldn’t.
    “Gerald’s is supposed to be neutral territory,” I said, trying to figure out what about his face was bugging me. “How did you get a knife past the wards?”
    “Mysterious Fey trickery. That and the fact that I didn’t take in anything big. Which means that this,” he held up the small item he’d wrestled from the sodden sheath, “is our only weapon.”
    “How do you know I’m not carrying one?”
    He smiled, those blue eyes running over me. “That would be a good trick.”
    I looked down to find that the rain had made the damned evening dress all but transparent, and I hadn’t been able to wear much underneath because of its almost nonexistent back. I closed the front of the cloak, and he made a slight moue of disappointment. “I talk too much,” he commented.
    “Too little.” I finally figured out what was odd about him. His jawline was stronger than those of the other Fey I’d seen, but it was mainly his expressions that were off. He had some.
    He leaned against the wall and looked at me quizzically. “Name a subject.”
    “You could start with why you were trying to buy me.” Everyone knew the Fey used to kidnap witches to help with their population problem, but it had been illegal for centuries. I disapproved of slaving in principle, and even more when I was the target.
    “We’ve suspected Gerald of stretching a point on any number of sales through the years,” I was told, “but have never been able to catch him doing anything illegal. When I saw you there, I realized you could serve as the witness we needed.” He looked at me reproachfully. “You would never have been a slave. The Blarestri don’t do that sort of thing.” He paused. “Well, not anymore.”
    “The Blar what?”
    “Blarestri.” He looked surprised that I didn’t automatically know what that meant. “That is my…clan, I suppose you would call it.”
    “And I take it from our reception that we didn’t land in your clan’s territory?”
    He grimaced. “No. We’re somewhere in the Svarestri lands, but I’m not certain of the exact location. I’ll try to find out tomorrow.”
    “And the Svarestri are what? Another clan?”
    “There are three leading clans of what you call the Light Fey,” he said slowly, as if he thought