“I hope our prince knows what game he’s playing,” I say, more to the air than to Dezi. “Because if he doesn’t, we’ll be the ones picking up the pieces when the music stops.”
The band rushes backstage, and Revelin tells Jasper and Maeve they aren’t doing any encores here. That makes Khol and our girl look relieved as fuck, and I watch as the vamp gives off those damn Daddy vibes again by bringing all three of them waters. He stands there until even the Prince drinks, making his band mates snigger to one another.
Again, it’s not just the Fae prince who can’t stop himself from showing his affection publicly.
Once everyone is ready, I whistle for one of my guys, hitching a ride to the bus for the group. Even though nothing happened at the venue, I don’t want to walk in the open and invite trouble. It only takes a few minutes for Tag to get us home, and we pile into the bus, the hum of satisfaction buzzing among us like a live wire. A collective exhale fills the space as the door swings shut, sealing us away from the lingering echoes of applause and the sharp scent of stage smoke.
“Didn’t think it’d go this smooth,” Khol mutters, pulling off his stage jacket with a fluidity that belies his earlier frustration. Fiadh nods, her eyes scanning each of our faces, searching for signs of the stress we’ve all kept at bay.
“Thanks to Tiernan’s watchful eye,” Revelin says, clapping me on the shoulder as he sinks into an overstuffed seat. I feel the weight of his gratitude, but shrug it off.
“Keeping us safe is my job,” I reply, my gaze fixed on the tinted windows, watching shadows play across the glass. “The perimeter spells were a good call. We had time to react if anything went sideways, but really, we got lucky.”
“Speaking of moving on,” Khol interjects, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “What’s next? We’re done here days early because of those asshats.”
“Amber Hollow is the next stop, but we’re going to hang here for a day at least,” I say without hesitation, unfolding the parchment map with deliberate care. The inked lines and cryptic symbols sprawl before us, a riddle etched in Henley’s hand. “The rest of the camp’s heading straight to the capital, but we’ve got shit to do first.”
“Right here,” Dezi points to a spot shaded by a copse of trees sketched near Goldegarde’s border. “Henley’s notes are vague, but if we find the glen, it should lead us to the hidden entrance.”
“A fortress in the hills sounds promising. What do you think’s waiting for us there?” Knuckles says as she leans into the basilisk. She hasn’t even stripped the stupid dress off yet, and the sight of her lounging in shit like that deserves memorializing.
Pulling out my phone, I snap a couple pictures, saving them for when we see the sprite next. The other family will get a kick out of it for sure. Torben won’t believe his eyes and Feray will go bonkers.
“You realize I have no problem stabbing you?” Fiadh growls absently as her fingers trace the map’s edge. “We’ll find answers or traps. That’s pretty much our luck.”
“This time, we won’t be caught off guard,” Khol declares, his jaw set firmly.
I fold the map, tucking it safely inside my jacket pocket. By this timetomorrow, we’ll have the next piece of the puzzle and be on our way to the capital.
At least, I think we will.
I’m weaving through the chaos of the dude-filled bus, my arms laden with bundles of dried herbs and vials of murky potions. Tiernan is hoisting a sack of weapons onto his shoulder, his muscles rippling in a way that nearly distracts me from the task at hand. Khol is staring at the map on our cluttered table, tracing a route with his finger.
“Look at us, gearing up like we’re some kind of fucked up nerdy DnD party,” I joke, unable to suppress a smirk as I imagine us, dice in hand, delving into imaginary dungeons instead of the very real peril awaiting us beyond Goldgarde’s sturdy walls.
Maybe I should get a copy… watching both groups of guys battle over a campaign would behysterical.
“Actually,” Khol begins with a sheepish grin, “Khal and I have been rolling for initiative since we were little ankle-biters.”
“You were a teenage Scaleon Musk, huh?” Tiernan snorts, nudging Khol with an elbow. The comment ignites a scuffle between them, playful punches thrown amidst chuckles and dodges.
Revelin leans against a shelf, a wry grin plastered on his face as he observes the friendly brawl, clearly relieved to be out of the line of fire for once. Dezi looks like he’s nursing the beginning of a headache, his fingers massaging his temples with measured patience.
“Fi, you realize how lucky you are that I let half this shit slide?” Dezi mutters in my direction, though there’s a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes.
I arch a brow at him, my hands on my hips. “I never took you for the crotchety type, Dezi.”
“Trust me, Fi, you haven’t pegged me at all,” he retorts, and I can’t help but snort at the implied double entendre, my eyes sparkling with the silent dare of a challenge.
“Is that a challenge?” My voice is laced with mischief, and the air suddenly crackles with something more potent than our usual banter.
“Very much so,” he says, matching my tone, and the flirtatious undercurrent halts Khol and Tiernan’s tussle as they glance over, eyebrows raised. “I enjoy our battles of will in the bedroom, witchling.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “You know, it’s amazing.” I raise my voice just enough to be heard over their sudden quiet. “A little innuendo and every single time, without fail, it’s like someone cast ‘distract men with sex talk’ because you all turn into fucking meerkats.”
The boys exchange sheepish looks, chastened but not quite willing to give up the thread of humor entirely. A shared laugh ripples through the group, tension dissipating like mist in the morning sun.
We might be on the brink of disaster, but at least we’ll meet it with a grin and raised middle fingers.
