“We all have many,” the king says, gaze sliding to me again. “Even the ones I hate, I love to hate them.”
“Avery,” Dominik snaps. “My drink?”
The rapping on the table stops.
I glance at the king, but he is watching Dominik. That beaming smile of white, straight teeth does not reach his eyes.
“Please,” Dominik adds.
“Of course, my lord.”
The king waves his hand, and the ripped painting of Wilhelmthe Uniter stitches itself back together. I watch in awe and horror as what is done is undone, like changing history.
“Wow, Your Magnificence,” I breathe, and for once, it is genuine.
“Matter and Mind.” The king shrugs. “We only repair by hand what is sentimental to us. Now, after this round of drinks, we’ll head to the lounge.”
“How are we traveling to it this time?” Eli asks.
Perhaps I’ve ingested the drugs meant for the royals, because nothing they say makes sense. After handing the king his lavender drink, I layer together ginger and lime for Dominik’s concoction. He frowns as he drains the entire glass. He likes it.
“The lounge is ready for dinner service,” Lila declares when she returns.
The king nods, passing his empty cup to me. His fingers brush mine.
“Thank you.” He holds my gaze. Then he steps up to his own portrait, flushed with soft youth—and rips it in half with his magic.
“Come on, boys,” he calls, pushing through the parted canvas. “Girls, you can come this way, too.”
“They change the lounge entrance for the fae after every use,” Lila whispers to me, giddy, as Eli and Dominik file in after him. “I’ve only served in there twice before. The first time, the king broke through the rock. Another time, we had to submerge ourselves in a fountain and swim out to the other side!”
I gape at her. “They alter how the entrance looks?”
She shakes her head. “They alter what the entranceis.”
“How?”
“Matter and Mind,” she says. “The Vandornes shape the world. And they want the other fae to remember that.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Despite its exclusivity, the loungeitself appears as any grand fae room. Wood-paneled walls, a lush green rug, and brown leather chairs. The fae eat around the table, and the executioner hovers by the door. Dominik demands a new drink from me. Then another. I create a reflection of his taste over and over and over. My genius isn’t tired; rather, it is exhilarated. When he glowers at me, I raise my chin, hold his gaze.
I see you,I think.I know who you are and what you’ve done.
It is the curse and the power of the prey, to know the predator better than he knows himself.
After the meal, Lila delivers water to the fae, and I take out the wooden box from under the cart. Lifting the lid, I trace the velvet cushioning, the thick, short sparks like rolled fallen leaves. Next to them is a round clipper.
First, I bring the box to the king, who plucks up a spark. Using the clippers, he shears off one end, then snaps, and a tiny flame ignites from his index finger.
A gasp escapes before I can help it, for I’ve been trying and failing at the same trick. Those violet eyes find mine, flickering with the reflection of the fire. His lips quirk into an uneven grin, and I wonder what he would’ve been like had he not been born a royal. If he had been born a faerie, if we worked together in the palace, we might have been friends. Or not. Or something more.
“It’s not as hard as it looks.” He holds the flame to the tobacco, wrapping his lips around the other end. He puffs until smoke streams from the clipped side. “Tell me your thoughts.”
“It was the speed that shocked me,” I say. “As if it were as easy as breathing.”
“It was.” He leans back in his chair. “Perhaps one day it will be for you, too.”
