More shades have arrived now, from all over the kingdom. They toss their sacrifices onto the overflowing altar before respectfully leaving. Shades from everywhere, that is, but the west villages.
I’m alarmed when a low growl rumbles at my side. Thankful that we’re alone in our corner of the room for the first time all night, I turn to Damien, wondering if he’s starting our pretend fight earlier in the evening than we planned. But he’s not looking at me at all. I follow his line of sight to a certain slender asshole who now stands behind the queen. Damien rumbles like he wants to tear him apart.
“That’s Adril Entrydal,” he says through his teeth.
“Yes. Nevina’s father. King of Willowgulch. Didn’t I tell you he was here before? He was with her the day she decreed no one could attend who hadn’t paid their tax to the kingdom.”
Damien’s eyes flick to me, and it’s as if his gaze has turned to ice. My arms break out in goose bumps. “I knew in theory that Nevina was his daughter, but seeing him in the flesh, the elf who abducted and tortured my father, I am not prepared for the hatred it ignites inside me.”
I run a hand down his outer arm. “Maybe we should go. I think I’ve reached my limit of tolerating the scent of dundle fish anyway.”
He nods but doesn’t move or start our planned argument. “Something’s wrong,” he murmurs. “Nevina and her father have had words, and Brahm looks agitated.”
“My guess is raging hemorrhoids from the sticks they keep up their asses,” I say. “Since they’re distracted, seems like the perfect opportunity to slip out.”
Damien bares his fangs. “No time for that. The young master of the guard is headed this way.”
I glance back toward the Devious Duo and do indeed see Banias, the master of the guard, walking in our direction with his hand on his sword. I’ve never been formally introduced to the young umbrae, but he never strays far from Brahm. Crap. Did the king and queen hear something? See something? Find our bags in the stables? What the hell is going on?
“The king and queen request your presence,” Banias says.
“What’s this about?” Damien grabs his arm, and Banias sneers at the touch. He jerks out of his grip, scowling at Damien.
“The king and queen request your presence. Both of you,” he commands again.
He gestures with his head, then follows behind us as we make our way over to the dais where the thrones have been set up. Brahm’s eyes are shifty again, like he refuses to look directly at his brother. Nevina, on the other hand, is staring daggers at both of us. And her father behind her wears that same creepy smirk, like in his spare time, he circles elementary schools in his white utility van offering candy to children.
“There you are, Eloise. I’d like you to explain something to me,” the queen says.
“It’s difficult to believe there’s anything that I could explain to you,” I say in the most self-deprecating tone I can muster. “I’m new here after all.”
“Oh, I think your being new is exactly why you are the best to answer my inquiry.” She clears her throat. “I’ve noticed that no one, not one single shade from the Zephrine region, has attended tonight or sworn fealty to me. We’ve collected no new taxes. I thought you said it was a requirement that shades from every community worship Thanesia on the night of the Harvest Festival and offer their sacrifices. Didn’t you say the goddess would curse them for the next fifty years if they did not participate?”
“That is what I read,” I say softly. “But I am not a shade, so my education on this matter is only from a book.”
Damien is as still as if he’s been carved from stone beside me, but Nevina turns her attention toward him and sniffs. “How about you, Damien? You know the people of Stygarde. Does it seem odd to you that an entire region would opt out of the Harvest Festival?”
“That seems a question better addressed to Lady Eudora. I’m just the stable hand, my queen,” Damien says. I catch a note of smugness in his voice near the end, but when I glance over at him, his face is completely bereft of emotion. I’m careful to keep mine the same.
Nevina shifts in her seat. “Well, I will make a note to speak with Eudora, but there is still the matter of everyone here having to swear fealty to us and pay their tax.”
I look around me, confused. Most of the shades have already excused themselves and are likely gathering at the real Harvest Festival. The room is mostly filled with elves and castle staff. “I don’t see anyone here who still owes you their allegiance,” I say.
She glares at me. “You and Damien have not offered your allegiance.”
A prickle runs across my skin as I glean her meaning. She wants Damien and me to take a knee! And I don’t know what kind of tax she thinks she can extricate from us, but I’m not promising her my firstborn. Fuck, I don’t think vampires can even bear children the way shades can.
Damien growls. “Brahm, what is she talking about?”
He frowns. “You’ve never sworn your fealty to us, brother.”
“Because I am your family and your stable help,” he says through his teeth, the red creeping up his neck betraying the first hints of anger. “I’m not a leader of a region in New Stygarde.”
Nevina drums her fingers on the carved arm of her throne. Behind her, her father is still staring at me, his creepy smile now baring teeth. “I don’t recall allowing for any such exceptions.” She straightens. “Now, kneel before us and repeat after me.”
I glance down at my dress and the moss-covered ground, disbelieving what I’m hearing. Damien must mistake my abject curiosity for potential compliance because he whispers, “Don’t you dare.”
I turn my full attention on my mate, warring to keep the smile that threatens full display locked behind an impassive facade. His fingers thread into mine, his firm grip on me giving me all the courage I need to turn back to face Nevina and Brahm.
