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That’s what I was worried about—they knew who we were the minute this dickface appeared.

Seven

FIADH

The best thing about being cornered by three Fae sentries is that you don’t have to worry about which direction to run. The worst thing is, well, everything else.

I don’t feel comfortable leaving this to diplomacy—not with what we’ve seen in the previous courts.

Nodding to Tier, I try to convey my intent as I whirl around to yank open the library door. The others follow me as I rush in, hoping to lose these fuckers in the enormous stacks. Unfortunately, we barely make it into the damn library before the asshole’s friends are on us. Their onyx armor gleams, and it has what I assume is a House Farrow sigil that pulses at their throats. I feel the enchanted chill of their weapons, and I narrow my eyes as the meaning of that hits me.

Midnight and Reaping have definitely been intermingling more than the other courts know.

I flatten myself against the wall, feeling the ancient parchment crinkle inside my jacket. Behind me, Dezi mutters a string of curses that would make a demon blush. Khol and Tiernan slot into position on either side, looking as if they’re going to fight to the end if need be. Revelin sighs, stepping to the front next to me as he rolls his eyes.

“Fine, fine. You’ve got us surrounded; we get it.” The prince huffs as he glares at the Creepy Dude as he drifts into the room with a smirk.

His sentry has one of those faces that only exists to be punched—all hard angles and a sneer that looks surgically attached. The dude moves to his commander’s side, a gauntleted hand raised in a universal ‘don’t even try it’ gesture, and pins us with a stare.

“By order of the Midnight Court, you are being detained for trespass, theft of sovereign property, and flagrant disregard of posted advisories.” His voice is pleasant, like someone reading off menu specials at a funeral.

I snort, giving him a look that is patently unimpressed regardless of how I feel inside. “You’re going to regret this idiocy, no matter who is ordering it. It’s almost a declaration of war, I bet.”

Tiernan’s hand drops to his belt, and I know he’s going for his weapon. The set of his shoulders says he’s ready to die here, and if he’s lucky, take two of them down with him. “You have no authority to detain His Royal Highness, Prince of Daybreak, and heir to the throne, Revelin Puck. Your advisor is overstepping his authority, as my mate stated.”

The Creepy Guy simply looks amused. “I think you’ll find I am imbued with the highest authority in the building, save that of the royal family. Your bravado is misplaced, shifter.”

“And who are you to make such claims?” Rev drawls as he hooks his hands in his belt loops. “We require a name to give the King and Queen when they ask who has endangered the treaty with their hubris.”

“I am Galan Hazelsky Farrow, Vizier of the royal court of Midnight, and leader of the magical council of soldiers.”

Khol smooths his jacket, his brow arched as he shrugs. “That means nothing to us,” he says, in the tone of a man who’s spent his whole life dealing with ego-driven imbeciles. “We are here as guests of the Daybreak Court. Any dispute should be addressed through the court, not by taking us forcefully to destinations unknown based on little or no evidence of wrongdoing.”

And here I thought he wasn’t able to be diplomatic.

“That is not my call. I am bound to obey the commander,” the sentry says as he glares at us. He jabs a finger at my chest as the Vizier dude grins smugly. “The Prince may have standing to complain, but his cadre of consorts are not official court members, and thus, not protected by the leniency granted in the treaties. The Vizier is within his rights to detain you all, especially those of you who will be revealed to be armed.”

I fight the urge to laugh. “If it were true that we have no standing, you would have claimed we were resisting and moved on us already. You’re biding your time, hoping we’ll give in so this bullshit doesn’t splatter back on you when Snooty Shithead gets his just desserts.”

The guard blinks once, studying me carefully. “Are you resisting or just mouthing off to stall the inevitable? My soldiers are trained; they do not react emotionally, only when given orders.”

They will not give up; we’re at a goddamn stalemate.

Behind me, Dezi’s already running the angles; I know it. The vampire is counting the small contingent’s backup, considering the space, and deciding if we truly can get away if we choose to try. I’m waiting for his decision when his voice slides into my mind, his tone all velvet and venom as he says, ~This is a setup, witchling. I’m not sure if the alarms and attack were faked, but even if they were not, someone wanted us to find this room, eventually. It was easier than it should have been to locate and breach.~

I’ve realized that by now, and I’m sure the others have as well. Whether it’s because the Midnight court is working with Harvest or has a motive of their own, they definitely wanted to put Revelin in a position to seem as if he’s a spy. That means their knowledge of me and my heritage is much deeper than these letters and the lineage papers. In fact, they probably knew an heir was out there for a very long time and have been searching for her until Fer and I popped up in that stupid ceremony. I bet one of those asshole Fae at the damn thing was a representative from here.

That makes me want to throttle someone, but that’s not an option yet.

Another soldier—a woman, judging by the curve of her armor and the chip in her painted nails—shrugs as she moves to her leader’s side. “You have no options; follow us or the Vizier will declare you spies and the entire army will be searching the castle for you. Be reasonable, and come with us calmly so you are seen to be cooperating. That means no one will restrain you.”

It’s not the worst offer I’ve had this week, which tells you how shitty my week has been.

Revelin sighs, looking annoyed at this extended argument. “We’ll go peacefully,” he says, “but I want it on record that I object to the treatment of my—” He fumbles for a word, not wanting to give away the truth, and settles on, “my consorts.”

The head sentry nods sharply, giving the female a pleased look before he turns back to us, “You will follow us to the interrogation rooms and the Vizier will call the council of magicals to assist him. The Prince will be given grace due his position, but the woman and the others will be questioned separately until we are satisfied.”

Tiernan squares up to him, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “She will not be separated from us, and I will not be separated from the Prince. I am his official bodyguard, and my contract is with the King of Daybreak, not the Vizier. It requires me to remain with him at all times, especially in foreign lands. Your generals and captains will understand why I cannot agree to that.”