“I count down from ten backward,” Silas rushes to say, eyeing the bubbling drink. “Anytime I need help breathing.”
I follow his suggestion, taking breaths until I can see straight again, and the heat calms. Finally, I ask, jaw clenched, “How can we stop the complaints without being High Fae? How do the halflings do it?”
“The only way is if a House grants you the status of legal protection. Any complaint against you would need to be explained and justified, not just automatically accepted.”
“And how do I get that?”
“Only a head of House can grant it.”
My heart sinks, because I already know what I must do. Kassandra’s and my plan for financial freedom isn’t enough. I must secure protections, and to ensure that Benji will be as safe as he could be, I must barter with the head of the most powerful House.
The king.
Chapter Twenty-five
When I return to myroom from the visit to Silas, a letter laces into the air. Stamped into the parchment is the royal crest—an eagle clutching a whip in one talon, a branch from Lucan’s Tree in the other. Undoing the wax, I parse out the looping instructions.
To my training halls.
Wear something comfortable.
I return to work tomorrow, but there is no denying a request from the king. A chill slides down my spine that he knows exactly where I sleep in Illusion.
Kneeling, I tug the small basket of belongings from under the bed and dress in a long-sleeve cotton shirt and trousers—a black pair I sewed to fit my hips. The trousers are tight against my muscles. Thanks to the Healing sessions, I am finally back to full strength after the bite. It feels good.
I lace to Reign and venture to the training halls, a part of the palace I’ve only seen on Lila’s map. The mighty room stretches before me, the walls lined with racks of swords, daggers, arrows, whips, and strange weapons. Mats lie scattered across the floor, sunbeams spilling over them from the openings in the ceiling. The vastness of the palace always stuns me.
A large padded platform rises from the center of the room, occupied by two males who circle each other, muscles glistening with sweat. One wears a white shirt, stuck to his skin; the other is in black. Maxian and the executioner. Memories of another ring flash through my mind’s eye: my father beating another faerie to a pulp, long ago. I knew he had only stopped harming others the day I woke up a decade ago with searing pain on my wrists from his leftover debts. May he wander lost.
To the side of the platform is Carter, next to a table with towels, boxing tape, and a pitcher of water with glasses. I cross the space to join him.
“Haven’t seen you in a few days,” he says. His face gives away nothing, and perhaps he does not know of the incident in the smoke room.
“Miss me?” I try.
Carter smiles. “Only a little.”
My gaze follows his. The executioner swings at the king, who dodges and twists, wrapping thick arms around Death’s waist, and tackles him to the ground. The two grunt and swear as they wrestle.
I drop my voice. “How long before they find a bed?”
“And miss out on being exhibitionists?”
We snicker. The groaning and grappling of limbs continue.
“No magic?” I ask.
“Not the same as grabbing your buddy, I guess.”
This time, I let out the laugh. Smiling, Carter turns to grab the pitcher of water behind him, filling up two glasses.
“Avery,” a smooth voice calls. “Glad you joined!”
When I glimpse the ring, Maxian has the executioner in a choke hold, stomach to the ground, squirming beneath him. For a moment, I am a visitor admiring this new royal portrait of the king—brawny Maxian triumphing over everything, even Death itself. Then the executioner grabs the golden forearm barred across his throat and heaves. The king pitches forward, landing on his back with an “Oof!”
Death stretches to his full height, looming above the fallen king with a preternatural stillness. His eyes glint with something I’ve only ever seen in beaten faeries, in Kassandra’s eyes, in my own reflection: hatred.
In a blink, it’s gone. From his back, Maxian flips up into a crouching position. The plane hums with energy, the back of my neck tingling.
