The supernatural guard rotation schedule looked like something out of a fantasy United Nations summit, if the UN had claws and could smell fear from three miles away.
"Bears take the midnight to four AM shift," I announced, looking over my hastily scrawled notes while trying not to think about what exactly they were guarding against. The detention center sat like a cancer on our territory, wrapped in so many layers of vines and fae wards it looked like nature itself had decided to swallow it whole. "Mountain lions get four to eight. Fae and wood elves split the daylight hours—"
"We do not 'split' anything," Galadrian interrupted with the kind of ethereal dignity that made even his corrections sound like poetry. The fae leader had finally offered his name after the third ward he'd woven s
