The king was swept into conversation after conversation after his introduction to the ballroom, and stopped only briefly to talk to Serill before Lord Remont—dressed head to toe in crimson and gold with the same light blond hair as Cason—pulled the king away.
Serill forced a smile and a terse nod after being dismissed. He joined Cason against the pillar he had claimed as his for the rest of the night.
“Didn’t breathe a word about why he was here other than his meeting with Remont,” the prince said into his drink. “At least he looked happy to see his old friend.”
Cason glanced over Serill’s shoulder to Ingram and Remont. Sure enough, that fake smile he had worn earlier now looked genuine.
Serill dusted off the hem of his silver and blue vest, having opted for short sleeves over the heavier tunic, knowing he’d just sweat through everything as the night went on. Cason had shrugged off his jacket before he had fully put it on, though he wasn’t foolish enough to wear the matching vest Serill threw at him. The cut would reveal too much of his fire ink, and he was already getting hesitant looks from his glare into the crowds. He’d suffer the heat in his heavy blue tunic. At least it wasn’t as suffocating as the outfit Boelyn had to wear, each swish of fabric alerting Cason to the man sliding into the space on his right.
“Did you not let our fireball release some energy this morning?”
Boelyn’s voice startled Serill who snapped his head around. Cason just remained leaning against the pillar with a bored look on his face.
Their storm-wielding friend grinned, his dark skin showing off a flash of teeth as he smiled, with black hair so dark that the light from the chandeliers made it look blue. Nearly thirty, the man was a force of muscle from his time training at the moon temple. The ink he had sprawled along his back were the same patterns that Cason had on his arm, their lightning magic strength nearly identical. But Boelyn had opted for the royal marks that crept up the back of his neck, visible with his cropped hair, while Cason had chosen not to add them to his already heavy artwork.
“We ran three miles and then trained for two hours in the middle of the day. I don’t know how he has any fire left,” Serill replied.
“Known him for seven years and still can’t figure out how to douse that flame,” Boelyn mused, eyes narrowed on Cason.
Serill grinned. “I’ve tried nearly everything in the arsenal. One day we’ll figure out what can soften that glare.”
“Standing right here,” Cason grumbled. The men on either side of him laughed. He shifted his glare to Serill as he jabbed a finger toward the alcove behind him. “Don’t you have Veil artifacts tofondle?”
Serill waved him off and looked back to the ballroom. “They’ll be there all night. I’m taking in the sights first.” His eyes trailed a woman with a green slip of fabric that barely covered her chest with slits that exposed nearly her entire leg.
Boelyn elbowed Cason. “Some things never change.” He lowered his voice. “Any luck on the break in at Gerrart’s? I have men sniffing around Rooke still.”
Cason shook his head. “The brothers got away and we have no leads on the Night Terror.”
“Sothat’swhy you’re grumpy. Stuck at a party instead of out with the men,” Boelyn replied, earning a growl from Cason.
Serill snorted. “Our chivalrous Cason wouldn’t be grumpy if he had tumbled that woman the other night.”
Boelyn’s face lit up in surprise. “He knows how to talk to women?”
“Gerrart’s men said their tongues were doing no talking.”
“We’re still talking about Valkip, right? This guy?” Boelyn jerked his chin at Cason.
Serill nodded. “Had her thrown against a wall, took her to his room, and then didn’t accept her invitation to the bed.”
“Still standing here,” Cason growled, arms folded tighter. He shot his glare at Boelyn. “Shouldn’t you be, you know, doing your job?” Boelyn raised his eyebrow and Cason added his drawl, “Captain.”
Boelyn let out a gruff laugh. “Unlike you, my friend, I can do my job while still having fun. And since I’m in charge tonight, I’m ordering you to take the night off of guarding. Get a drink, and don’t lean against this pillar all night.”
Cason ignored Serill’s quiet cheer behind him. “Good thing there are twenty-nine other pillars in here to lean against.”
Since Serill didn’t laugh, he assumed the Prince had begun counting the number of pillars to see if Cason was right.
He was. He had counted them when he arrived yesterday.
Cason turned to smirk at Serill but something flared along the back of his neck. A slight twitch in his protective magic and his eyes were drawn to the ballroom entrance and the three new arrivals.
In an instant, he had sized up the handsome, red-headed bodyguard—lethal limbs with an air of brutality despite a soft face.
The other man was more of a challenge, darkness enveloping his entire stature, though well-disguised with the green tunic that might have cost more than the chandelier that sparkled over their heads. A man with a purpose, and in a place like this, he’d fit right in with the other rich and power-hungry men ready to profit on Veil artifacts.
That fact would normally lead Cason to ignore the entrance, dismiss it as just another auction attendant looking to grow his collection…
