My stomach churns, a toxic mix of suspicion and anger swirling within me. If King Charming is responsible for my father's death, his brazen display of my father's work is a twisted mockery. Maybe it’s like a serial killer showcasing the trophies of his conquests? Instead of nailing my father’s body to the wall, the King uses his artwork to make the point.
Kaison dips over to me. “Whatever you are thinking, it is giving your already low-key expression a murderous edge.” I’m sure he is making the whisper look romantic, like a stolen moment between us.
“So help me, fae lords, if you tell me to smile, I will remove your testicles with a blunt, rusty spoon,” I whisper.
A beat.
“Fair enough,” he says, leaning back and looking as unperturbed as before.
“Forming a union with a…human. How very forward-thinking, my King,” one of the fanged dukes says from across the table. He’s sucking up to King Charming so hard I want to hand him a straw.
“Per our agreement,” the King answers, “my son picked his own match. Since the royal blood thrums through his veins, I cannot deny that his choice must be inspiration.”
Despite defending his son and me to this duke, the King looks rather inspired to rip my head right off my body and use it as a volleyball he can spike across the room.
Eyes turn toward Kaison.
“Ah yes,” the prince confesses, finishing up a sip of champagne, having sent his cup of blood away as soon as it was brought out to him. Did he do it for my comfort? I can’t imagine why.
“I was inspired by Cinder’s beauty and couldn’t help but recall our times together as young children, bonded by our fathers’ friendship.”
I see my opening and dive in.
“Speaking of my father,” I say, “I wish he were here to witness this union.”
I try to match their elevated way of speaking, though I still get some looks as though the vampires can’t believe there is a talking dog at the table.
Woof woof motherfuckers.
The expression of sorrow that crosses the King’s face appears genuine as I scan it for any signs of feigned performance. “I do miss your father. We had such a. . . unique understanding.”
Anunderstanding.
Not a friendship. Not really.
My father was a lowly familiar and understood his place and provided a unique service of bringing willing human cattle into Midnight.
Resentment snakes through me before wrapping around my heart and squeezing with vicious intensity.
The urge to stand and punch this prick in the face is overwhelming. My hands clench into fists on my thighs.
A hand covers mine under the table. Kaison.
With long, deft fingers, he unravels my seized-up digits before bringing our entwined hands up above. Resting his elbow on the table, he continues to play with my fingers in a lazy, affectionate manner.
I try to ignore the steadyboom boom boomof my heart that seems too focused on his attention.
But I’m not the only one. Several eyes fasten to where our fingers are laced. A quiet, muffled indignation ripples out like a stone was dropped in a pond.
Kaison relaxes in his chair, a smile playing on his lips. “Yes, your father’s death was rather sudden, wasn’t it, my punishing petal?”
I’m tempted to kick his shins again at the nickname, but then I realize what he’s doing. He’s riling up and distracting everyone in the vicinity with our blatant PDA so the fangers drop their guard.
“We tend to forget humans lead such fragile lives by comparison,” King Charming says, raising his brows in pity.
I don’t miss the way his eyes narrow at our joined hands.
“Not as fragile as you think.” Judging by the sharp look King Valdor gives me, I haven’t hidden the venom in my words well enough.In for a penny.“In fact, my father was supremely healthy. His death was such a shock, I almost wonder. . .”
