“She also said ‘consider,’” I parry, elbowing him and snorting when he misses his next bite, “which is an even further cry from swearing fealty. Drops thatsomethingdown tonothingin my book.”
Cas sweeps crumbs from his lap, chuckling. “Pops has a point there, Gingerbread.”
Fiona claps a hand over her heart. “Et tu, Brute?Whose side are you on?”
“No sides.” Cas raises his palms in surrender. “I’ll defend your honor, but that’s it. You started this battle, you finish it.”
Fiona gapes at the three of us, landing on a smug Emi. “What do you want from me, a feckin’ blood oath?”
Emihmms pensively. “You know, I think I like the sound of that.”
Fiona scoffs. “What about Cas? He bet against you, too.”
I suppress my wince. The mood shifts like rippling water as Emi and Cas share an uncomfortable, weighted glance. It’s been three years since they split. At best, their friendship is as durable as a ripped page. We all see the tear where the ink doesn’t align quite right anymore. Although it’s had all this time to settle into its new shape, it can so easily be torn again.
Fiona, who wasn’t part of our inner circle untilafterthe Great Castastrophe, realizes her mistake a moment too late. “Ah, shite. I’m sorry, dove. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine,” Emi murmurs, casting her weary gaze out the window and to the sea beyond. “I think it’s safe to say Castor did his time.”
Fiona looks at Cas like she’s drowning and desperate for a rope. But there’s none for the latter to offer as he rubs his brow and avoids looking at any of us.
Unacceptable.Our lives are bleak enough when we’re not together.
Pulling up my text thread with Emi, I type:
Forget the knife. Let’s melt some Ex-Lax into their mocha tomorrow morning and watch them race each other to the bathroom. Bet Cas shits himself first.
Coffee suddenly rockets from Emi’s nostrils, chasing Hades from her lap to Fiona’s. She yelps as the bobcat’s claws sink into her crotch,and she flails like a fish, tangling herself in the netting. Cas chokes on his cake, I cackle like a jackal, Emi sneezes hazelnut bubbles, and just like that, the tension shatters as we descend into a fit of laughter I’d gladly drown in if I could.
Almost. Ialmostforget that this is only half my reality.
As Cas hands Emi a stack of napkins, patching over the new rip in their page with a mending smile she returns, my phone buzzes with an incoming call.
From my father and the king of this city: Alexander Morgenstern.
Dread burns in the pit of my stomach like I drank too much dark roast as I make my way through the kitchen, step out the back door, and accept the call.
“Hai,Papa?”
“Poppyseed,” he greets me, his tone grave. “Are you safe, baby girl?”
Not a comforting start. If he’s asking about my safety like he’s expecting someone that buys and sells people for a living to be answering my phone, whatever this is about isn’t good.
I clear my throat, unable to unclog the knot. “I’m fine, Papa. At Beelzebub’s with the crew.”
“Thank the stars.” His relief settles in my bones like the warmth of a fire on a cold night. Then he snuffs it out with a brisk, “I need you to do something for me.”
My answer is immediate. “Anything.”
Fire crackles in the background. I imagine he’s in Morgenstern Manor’s library. Mama is likely seated at the blazing hearth, eavesdropping while pretending to be buzzed on wine.
I lean against the glass panes, tilting my gaze up to the stars as I await my orders. As I have my entire life. My childhood didn’t consist of classrooms and peers. My teachers were my papa and grandpapa. My lessons were on navigating the criminal underworld. I studied how todelegate sins to the appropriate sinners, how to cock the Glock when discord and disobedience inevitably arise.
No, my childhood wasn’t normal at all.
Whether I like it or not, I am the second-in-command of my father’s decrepit empire until the day he passes his crown to me. Along with his throne, I’ll be inheriting every jailbird, crook, and vagabond in his grip working off their debts to the man who bailed them out of whatever tough bind they’d been in before selling their soul to serve the king of Salem himself.
My future as queen of the Morgenstern dynasty was written in the stars. I have no siblings, and though there are plenty of cousins who are just as capable of taking over the business as me, I am Alexander Morgenstern’s only child. As his sole heir, I am the line of succession.
