“And you played for Death.” Eli sighs. “But you’re too loud to ever be mistaken as that.”
“Shut up, you self-righteous prick!”
“Drink water, Dom,” Maxian replies, calm. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”
The plane jerks in one direction, then another. Dominik simmers in his chair, and Maxian and Eli tense. I wonder if a fight between the highest of the fae will break out right here.
The grout was pink.
Blood that had soaked into the floors during the Dark Rebellion.
The plane buzzes in my ears like a swarm of wasps, and I feel the vibration through my teeth. The executioner shifts in his corner.
“A smoke for Death?” I blurt. “Or do you consider sparks your cousins?”
It isn’t a clever joke, but the males in the room startle anyway, and the pressure eases.
“You are incorrect,” the executioner says. “On both counts.”
“I’m shocked Death is so serious.” The sarcasm slips out before I can reel it back. I cover my mouth. The king smirks, and Eli huffs a laugh, and I can finally breathe as the plane rights itself. Lila gives an impressed smile.
“Apologies,” I follow up, face burning.
“You are brave to jest with a Death fae.” The king twists the spark between his thumb and forefinger. “They’re not exactly known for their humor.”
“I got a laugh out of Death once,” Eli pipes up. “When was that? Seventy-five years ago?”
“Eighty-one,” the executioner amends.
Maxian laughs. “I’m convinced he wears the mask so we don’t see how much he smiles. Isn’t that right, Executioner?”
Eli giggles—giggleslike a child, the king joining in. The executioner just folds his arms.
Perhaps there’s more than just tobacco in these,I think.
“Shall I bring some dessert?” Lila offers.
“Lovely!”
“My spark?” Dominik whines behind me, the sullen faealmost forgotten. I hold out the box. He grabs one, clips and lights it. An invisible hand presses against my back, pushing me closer to him.
“What game are you playing, little faerie?” he hisses.
“Game, my lord?”
“No wonder my sister enjoys your company. You have even less wit than her.”
“ ‘Than she.’ ”
“What?”
I stare down at him. “In this context, I believe it’sYou have less wit than she.”
He grips my hip with a cold hand. I yelp, but an unseen hand covers my mouth, and another spins me so that I stand by his side, facing the others.
“May I borrow her, Max? Only for a moment,” Dominik calls across the room. His shift in mood stuns me. The king glances up, his pupils dilating.
“Avery?” he asks.
