“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I whisper, more to myself than the others, but they hear it all the same—a rallying cry as we step through the gates and into the heart of uncertainty.
Tiernan grimaces, gesturing for Rev and me to lead the way. The Prince takes my hand and I try to wiggle away, but he grins prettily. “If people are co-opting my shit to kill us, I’m holding hands with whoever the fuck I want, even the snake.”
“Oooh!” Khol rushes up, taking his other hand. “I enjoy pissing off old farts. I’m game.”
Dezi groans, rolling his eyes heavenward as he and Tiernan catch up. “La Magra, save me from the shit these children are about to get us into.”
“I’ve tried every god or goddess in the book, man,” Tier says as he opens the door. “It never works, and it definitely doesn’t make the nights go any more smoothly.”
Somehow, I believe that.
“You shouldn’t try to change—” Rev’s statement is cut off by agaggleof older women who rush up to us the minute we step inside. His hand grips mine in panic, though you’d never know by the look on his face. Khol hisses softly, a flood of irritation racing through our bond as the Prince greets the women who almost knocked us all over.
I let go of his hand, moving back as he schmoozes, and my basilisk mirrors the move. The women don’t even notice that they’ve almostpushed us back out the door, and after a few moments, Revelin moves back, gesturing at our group.
Damn it, Rev!
He smiles like he’s trying to rival the sun as he says, “Ladies, I’d like you to meet myclosest friends—Fiadh, Khol, Dezi, and Tiernan.I can’t function without them, which is why they joined me for the entire tour.”
That earns us all curious gazes, then narrow-eyed glares when he leans in to kiss my cheek. This wasn’t our plan for the evening, and I have no idea what the unpredictable Fae is doing.
But I know one thing… I’m going to fucking kill him if these old bats fuck with me all night.
Maybe that distraction was his plan, after all.
Iweave through the throng of perfumed gowns and tailored suits, Revelin’s declaration still hanging like an overripe fruit in the tension-thick air. “These are all my very special friends,” he’d said with a flourish that only a prince could manage, his voice a melodic lilt over the buzz of conversation. The rich ladies flutter around him, their laughter as delicate as their lace fans, but their eyes are like raptors’—sharp and hungry.
“Special friends, my ass,” Fiadh mutters under her breath, her eyes narrow to slits as she scans the crowd. She’s a coiled spring, this one, always ready to snap. I can’t help but sigh at the thought. Rev’s impromptu emphasis on her was a shield, but it feels more like a spotlight—illuminating her for every critic and suitor alike.
All he did with that is put a bigger target on our mate’s head.
“Wouldn’t mind stabbing a couple of them,” Fiadh continues, more to herself than anyone else, but Khol is quick to catch her words, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Only a couple?” Khol prods, almost too quietly for the rest to hear. His amusement is clear, though. He’s always enjoyed stoking the fire, especially if it’s in Knuckles’ hands.
“Quiet,” I say, though there’s no real bite to it.
It’s more of a habit than anything, trying to keep our motley crew from causing a scene—or worse, an incident. Dezi floats nearby, the picture of nonchalance, but I know better.He’s watching everything, taking charge only when the situation calls for it—or when he stands to gain something from it. I’ve seen him switch from aloof to commander in the blink of an eye, but usually, he reserves that for more... intimate settings.
Something I expected from him, but the acceptance of it across the board was shocking.
“Let’s just keep moving,” I suggest, steering the group with subtle nudges and pointed looks, trying to make our passage through the crowd look effortless. It’s a dance I’ve mastered over the years: the art of moving unseen and untouched.
We’re like a ship parting the waves, mostly undisturbed. Revelin, despite the attention, moves with practiced grace, his charm never faltering even as it thins. Our mate stays close, her irritation a storm cloud above her head, and Khol’s smirk never quite fades. Dezi remains a shadow among shadows, his presence reassuring in its own way.
“Almost through,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else. We’re nearly at the heart of this gilded cage, the receiving room just a few steps away. I can’t help but feel the weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders like a mantle. If not an attack, then the tempests of temper from my companions may be just as dangerous tonight.
And I’m the adult in the room, so I have to make sure no one gets arrested—again—or harmed.
We finally elbow our way into the sprawling entryway, a veritable forest of fans and simpering Fae reaching for Revelin as though he’s their salvation. I catch his eye—a silent promise to debrief later about Amethyst’s lack of interference. Revelin offers them smiles that don’t quite reach his eyes—his patience becoming a thinning thread.
“Not now,” he murmurs without looking at me, his voice strained with forced politeness. His gaze never leaves the throng as another set of eager parents thrusts their offspring in his path. “I’m aware.”
“Just making mental notes,” I reply under my breath. But my thoughts are heavy with disapproval, the scenes unfolding before me ink for the report bound for royal scrutiny. His mother and father definitely need to know that their contracted manager isn’t managing shit, and it’s allowing small townies to be disrespectful of binding agreements. That kind of insult will echo to larger venues and, eventually, it will make them all look like fools.
The receiving room looms ahead, its opulence bordering on offensive.
Mayor Knobbleton is a peacock among pigeons, his welcome as warm as it is condescending. “Prince Revelin, it’s an honor to meet you,” he booms, while his sneer toward Fiadh is so subtle it’s almost imperceptible.
