He arches a brow, but crawls into the pile without protest. It’s quiet for a moment before he speaks. “You will all have to be balanced, you know. It’s… a thing with me.”
Khol pops his head up off my stomach. “Dude, I have two dicksanda twin. I don’t know how much more balanced I could be.”
The heaved sigh makes me chuckle, but I wait for Dezi to expound. “There are three sets of pierced nipples. Two pierced dicks out of five. So on and so on. Snakelet, you will count all the metal and ink and make me a list. Visual balance is important and we will rectify the issue in the tour cities little by little.”
Tiernan’s eyes widen, and I know he’s worried because he’s the least inked or pierced. “Why?”
“Oh, that is a question for later, kitty cat. But rest assured, you will all enjoy it very much,” Dezi says with a smug grin. “Now rest until it is time to get clean.”
Damnit, let a vamp give you a bunch of inches and they take a fucking mile, I swear to hell.
The wheels of the Magical Mystery tour bus crunch over gravel as we roll to a stop. I peer out the fogged window, my breath leaving a smudge on the glass. The first town we’re stopping at in the Harvest Court unfurls before us like a tapestry rich with autumnal hues, its buildings hewn from wood that seemed to pulse with an inner warmth.
“Finally,” I murmur, stretching as I roll to my feet. The bus’s enchantments kept us comfortable, but nothing could ease the itch for solid ground beneath my feet. Being a shifter makes it hard not to touch the earth every once in a while and it’s been four days since we set off from the starting point. Some of the later parts of the trip will be even worse, so I make a mental note to have Revelin give the driver instructions to allow us time to get out occasionally. He might be perfectly fine on Fae ground surrounded by Fae magic, but Knuckles and I will need nature.
I rise from my seat as the door unfolds, spilling golden light into the oddly closed off walkway to the main part of the bus. Stepping down onto the sun-dappled cobblestones, I take in the quaint charm of the busy town. It’s a stark contrast to the towering evergreens and sweeping meadows we passed—a pocket of civilization nestled amid the wild splendor of the open Faerie.
The air here is rich with the scent of ripe fruit and seasoned wood, a fragrant reminder that this place thrived on the harvests it was named for. I inhale deeply, letting the unique blend of magic and earthiness settle into my lungs.
Damn, everything about this place feels crisp and cozy.
“Tiernan, move your ass,” Khol grumbles, his voice laced with amusement. “Don’t tell me you’re turning into a tree hugger, too. We’re predators, dude.”
I shoot a smirk over my shoulder. “Just taking it in. It’s not every day you get to see the Harvest Court. Unlike different countries on the other side of the Veil, the Fae courts are strict about who can visit and why unless you’re tourists. They’re all far too suspicious of one another to allow free travel.”
Stepping fully into the embrace of the town, I wait for the rest of our family to join me. The town is alive with the bustle of Fae and other creatures going about their business. Shopkeepers arrange their wares, children dart between stands, and everywhere there is a sense of anticipation for something grand.
The Prince will be pleased, indeed. All this effort… just for him.
“Looks like we’re here right on time,” I note, watching a group of faeries string up garlands of marigolds and amber leaves.
“Perfect timing, or perfectly planned?” Khol muses, his scales catching the sunlight in flashes of bronze.
“Knowing Revelin’s team,” I replied with a grin, “it’s no coincidence.”
The bus rumbles softly behind us, folding itself neatly into a much smaller, inconspicuous shape that blends into the surroundings—a chameleon among the mundane carts and carriages.
“Let’s get our bearings,” I say as Fiadh steps closer to me. “We’ve got a busy day ahead.”
Dezi claps his hands together, drawing our little ensemble into a huddle amid the throng of townsfolk. “Priorities,” he states, as if the word itself could marshal order from the surrounding chaos.
“I have a planning committee meeting first,” Revelin chimes in, brushing back a lock of hair that is colored to match our girl’s purpleand black locks. “I’ve got to sync up with my team for the concert on Friday. Plus, I’ll have to glad hand town leaders because of Prince shit.”
Fiadh’s gaze sweeps across the bustling streets, her expression one of awe mingled with a hint of trepidation. “I didn’t think a small town in Faerie would be this... expansive.”
“Expansive?” Revelin chuckles. “This is quaint compared to Daybreak Court. My family’s palace in the Capital there is much larger than you realize. The city itself is… well, imagine this multiplied a hundredfold, lass. Harvest Court has decent sized cities, especially the capital, but the largest Courts are Daybreak and Midnight.”
Dezi snorts at that, a sound that seemed to echo with centuries of dry wit. “Well, fertility swells the population. Unlike vampires, you Fae and shifters are quite prolific.”
Knuckles’ face drains of color, her eyes growing wide as saucers. I can’t help but let out a chuckle as she looks around at us. It’s a silent plea for sanity—or maybe an escape route.
“Shifters have large families,” I admit, feeling a twinge of something undefinable at the mention of siblings. Being adopted means I’m ignorant of my own bloodline. “Though I can’t say how many brothers or sisters I might have out there.”
“Try seven sisters and four brothers like me,” Revelin offers with a casual shrug, as if such a number were as ordinary as the days of the week.
Our girl’s lips part, her breaths coming quicker now. The brave warrior looks like a rabbit cornered by wolves—only these wolves are ribbing her about potentially huge litters of pups. I’d be concerned, but we all know she’s been brewing the witchy potion. It should be fine, despite her expressions of sheer terror.
“Any idea how many bastard offspring your father has sired, Prince Revelin?” Dezi asks, his smirk cutting through the levity like a scythe.
