The aid they give us. They do everything but wipe my father’s ass most days. Who is he kidding?
“If we do not get our attendance records up, we will have to drop the auctions to once a month, and that will cause all the good ones to be purchased before anyone has a chance. And we don’t want that, do we?” He looks sincerely out at his bored audience. Nods and murmurs of agreement follow, though.
As they always do.
But one thing is clear, things are changing here. Just like with the tight clothing of the human realm that’s now everywhere in our kingdom, perhaps guilt and humanity also has become the new trend in our lives.
Less and less do I see leashes on the demons in our kingdoms. They walk side by side with their handlers ever since someone a few days ago asked why Princess Aries doesn’t leash her demons.
“Because they are not animals,” I had replied curtly.
And then my father cut that discussion immediately.
“I won’t keep you from the festivities. My daughter is home. The future Queen of Roses is with us once more. Let us celebrate!”
And just like that, no one mentions the young Prince who once sat where I sit now.
My gaze instinctively pans to my mother with that thought. She still hasn’t said a word to me. What is there to say?I’m sorry? I’m sorry I killed your only son and made your life more miserable than it already was?
A heavy sigh pushes from my lungs and just lightly, Krave’s long tattooed fingers skim against my outer hand.
Old music of soft-stringed instruments sways its melody through the high-domed ballroom. The entrance door is just to the left of the royal platform, and my attention keeps pulling there, as if I could just leave here and never look back.
But I can’t. So instead, I listen to the melody. The song whisks across my skin and through my body as I listen to the man’s soft song of heartbreak and love.
It’s definitely a trendy little topic of our lives now, isn’t it?
We’re seated just above everyone else on the platform, and its pretentious, but it makes for good spying at this level. Men and women dance across the shining white floor, but my gaze follows my father as he chats with his newest advisor. He’s a younger man. The man smiling and nodding along with my father isn’t the elder fae I remember hobbling along in my childhood.
The top of Nille’s head bobs past my table, and I have to call out to the rushing goblin to get him to pause for even a second.
“Who is that man?” I motion discreetly to the blonde fae man at my father’s side.
Nille’s big eyes shift to the two of them. “Johnn Rarely. He’s been the King’s advisor for two years now. Only had his trust for one, of course.” Nille shakes his big head at the man as he carries on past me to my mother’s side.
He’s young. That’s the only thing about him that I keep thinking about.
He isn’t old, and he doesn’t harbor old ways of thinking.
I keep stewing on how Johnn Rarely can fit into my life and my plans when a rasping tone whispers in my ear like sex smothered in honey, “Stop suffocating on politics and dance with me, Ari,” Krave says as he hovers near my side but keeps a nice, respectable distance between a handler and her demon.
My heart answers before my lips ever part with a breathless response.
His fingers slide into mine, and I stand. He guides me down the stairs and through the parting crowd, who watch us with far too much interest. If Krave were a fae—hell, if Krave were a goblin, he’d be getting less notice right now. But they stare at him, gawking openly, as he gracefully takes my hands and positions them with too much space between us.
Because they’re watching him.
And I fucking hate them all for it.
My hands push over his smooth black suit that matches his eyes, and I press myself nice and close against his chest as my hands slide through his soft inky hair.
“That’s better,” I whisper along his cheek.
A taunting smile carves his lips and the way his beautiful dark eyes are shining down on me, I can tell he agrees. He’s always made me crazy in the worst and best possible way.
I’m just starting to wonder if I’ve always done the same for him.
His shining black shoes glide over the floor as if he’s danced this dance a thousand times. Almost as if... he’s a royal gentleman.
