I sigh, realizing the damn vamp made sure we weren’t paying attention towhywe split up, so no one would ask. The crafty fucker didn’t even have to use compulsion; he just used our own personalities against us. “He didn’t want us to know what he was doing and now I’m worried about why the hell that is.”
“There haven’t been any sirens or screaming people we know of,so that’s a good sign,” my leopard says. “It means heprobablyhasn’t killed anyone.”
“Yeah, maybe he wanted to fuck off to feed and didn’t want to say anything,” Khol adds.
“Somehow, I doubt the reason will be that simple.”
The question is: will his true reason land us all in hot water?
The clock on the wall ticks mockingly, each second elongating into an eternity as I sit in the stuffy conference room. The meeting with the PR people and the town officials drones on, stretching far past the allotted time. I slump further into my chair, my fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on the polished oak table.
“Revelin, about the charity gala—” Amethyst begins, but I cut her off, my voice firm.
“My friends are non-negotiable. They’re coming to all public appearances. End of discussion.” The words leave my lips like a whip crack, echoing slightly in the tension-thick room. I’m growing tired of re-iterating it and the sheer cheek of the people here questioning me is getting under my skin.
What’s the point of being a Prince if people still feel like they can demand shit?
Amethyst’s eyes narrow for a fraction of a second before she schools her features into practiced neutrality. “Of course,” she says smoothly, but there’s a frostiness to her tone that wasn’t there before.
I study her, perplexed at the attitude I’m picking up. She’s usually the epitome of composure, able to handle my whims and fancies with ease. But now, there’s something different. She’s got a harsh edge to her usual calm demeanor that sets my nerves on edge. Why is she acting so strangely about this? It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve insisted on having my way.
“Prince Revelin, you need to be reasonable here,” one of the town leaders interjects, his attempt at diplomacy as thin as the hair clinging to his scalp. He’s a half-elf, but his thin build and height come from the Fae side. I’m sure he thinks he’s hot shit because he’s wealthy enough in Arrowwood to get elected to the Council, but that wouldn’t buy him shit in the Capital.
Yet another reason my father needs to fuck all the way off and let someone who gives a shit about our people lead, but that’s not the point today.
“Reasonable?” My laugh is more a snort of disbelief. “My ‘friends’ are the reason I’m even here; I could have postponed this tour for personal reasons and no one would have even blinked. If they’re not welcome, you can forget all the extra shit this week except the charities and concert.”
Amethyst’s lips press into a line so tight it’s almost invisible. Her facade is cracking, anger seeping through like water through a dam about to burst. I lean back, arms crossed over my chest, watching the storm brew behind her eyes. Usually, this is how she handles errant staff or weirdo fans, not me.
Something has crawled up her ass and died, but I have no fucking clue what it is.
“Fine,” she concedes after a moment that feels too long, her voice strained with unspoken irritation.
Amethyst has always been a pillar of support, her presence a constant that allowed me to be a free spirit. To feel this animosity rolling off her in waves confuses me. I’ve brought along hangers-on plenty of times; since when is it an issue?
“Good,” I say, my tone leaving no room for argument. “Then that’s settled.”
The tension doesn’t dissipate, though. It hangs in the air, a thick fog of unease that clings to every word as we wrap up the final details. Something’s off, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing acrucial piece of the puzzle. I make a mental note to keep a close eye on Amethyst.
If this shit continues, maybe it’s time for a change.
For now, I push those thoughts aside. It’s time to shift focus to what truly matters: rejoining my new coven—people who need nothing from me but to simply be myself. I scan the list of events, each more tedious than the last, laid out before me like a gauntlet I’m meant to run. My gaze flicks up to Amethyst as I toss the fancy ball invite back onto the table. “Not happening,” I state flatly.
“Your father has already approved all these arrangements,” she counters, her tone sharper than I’ve ever heard it.
“Last I checked, I was of age.” I lean forward, locking eyes with her. “His approval doesn’t bind me.”
Amethyst’s lips thin, and for a moment, I see the flicker of something dark cross her face before she schools her expression. “I only want this tour to be a success,” she says, but the words feel hollow.
She’s never used my father as leverage before, either. Amethyst knows that’s a sure way to get me to dig my heels in.
Around us, the town leaders shift uncomfortably, their earlier boldness giving way to an awkward silence. Their behavior is puzzling—too mouthy for small-towners addressing a prince. It’s almost like they’re playing roles they don’t quite fit into, and I can’t help but study them, my mind whirring with suspicion.
As the discussion delves into the minutiae of venue capacities and security protocols, a yawn threatens to break free from my lips. I stifle it, instead allowing my thoughts to drift to Fi and the guys. There’s an unfamiliar longing in my chest—a desire for simple pleasures over the grandiose spectacle that used to enthrall me.
A chuckle escapes me at the irony, drawing curious glances from the room. “Just remembered a joke,” I lie smoothly, waving away their attention. But the laugh has soured in my throat as I catch sight ofAmethyst’s glare. The sharpness in her eyes sets off alarm bells in my head.
I make a mental note: watch her, keep her close, but not too close. She’s supposed to be the bridge between me and these mundane affairs, not a warden or an overbearing spouse.
