“It’s the only reason for the repulsive amount of orange in this city,” I replied, wrinkling my nose and she laughed.
“Not every Court is as… proud of their color as this one.”
“What are they?” I asked. “The courts?”
Cass’ smile faltered. Her gaze flicked quickly to her brother who interrupted before she could speak.
“The geography lesson can wait,” he drawled. “Dinner’s ready.”
Though the Fae used no magic to make the food, they made it disappear and reappear on the table in the dining room. I flinched at the casual use of magic, wondering if I would ever get used to it, as I followed Cass over to the table. We arranged ourselves around the average wooden dining table. Rook took one side, Cass and I took the other. Lark sat at the head, the side I was closest to. Rook dug into the meal before anyone could say a word.
“I see your table manners have been utterly vacated,” Cass quipped. She gave a dramatic wave of her hand and Rook’s food disappeared from his plate and back onto the serving tray in the middle. Cass raised a brow in challenge. “Try again.”
“I didn’t miss you,” Rook groaned, pointing at her with his fork.
“Yes, you did,” she remarked with a grin.
He smiled back. I looked between them.
“How’s father?” Lark asked then and both of their smiles vanished.
Rook’s fork clattered to his plate as he gaped openly at Lark who hadn’t even looked up from his food. Cass glanced uneasily toward her brother.
“He, um, he’s the same as always, I suppose,” Cass answered after a long moment of silence.
“Hm. I would have thought Ursa would have killed him by now.”
“Lark—”
“Given that she tried to kill me.”
Cass’ cheeks burned. She stared down at her napkin.
“I know you’ve seen her,” he said then, that intense gaze aimed directly at his sister. Even Rook had stopped eating. “He is an immortal king. She’s fighting for a succession that may never occur. She tried to kill me, her own brother, to claim a throne that may always be his.”
“Lark, I didn’t—”
“Why?” he snapped, his dark gaze gone icy cold.
Cass closed her eyes.
“What has happened, Cass?” he asked, his voice oddly strained. “Be honest with me.”
“There was an attempt on father’s life,” she answered, her voice barely a whisper.
Lark’s jaw tensed. Rook gaped.
“When?” Lark growled a moment later and I jumped in my seat at the raw power behind it.
“Last year. When she came for you. It was poison. We thought he was… we thought he would die.”
“And where was Taurus?”
“He was—she went after him too.”
Casseiopia was suddenly very interested in her purple nails.
“Cass,” Lark started, carefully. “What happened?”
