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I lean back, balancing the scales of risk and reward. Over my long life, I’ve been party to many political schemes—it’s an impossibility to avoid as a vampire—but none so ill-suited to success. “What do you offer us for painting a target on our own backs? The prince is correct in his assessment of the balance in this bargain. It does not benefit us nearly as much as it does you.”
Shailagh’s expression softens for a heartbeat. “Protection, resources, and access to our intelligence network so you can locate the ones who ordered the death of the parents that you remember. If you make it to Daybreak Court, you’ll have a direct audience with the Fawn. She’s the only one who might know which bastard started this nightmare.”
“Or she’ll try to have us killed to stop it coming out,” Khol mutters. “That’s what people in our business would do.”
Morana’s smile returns, sharper. “It’s a risk you must take for closure, basilisk. Does your mate want to know why? Is it important to her that she can stop the attacks before they harm people she cares about?”
The room is quiet again, but this time, it’s not a standoff; it’s everyone recalibrating their thoughts.
I risk a glance at Fiadh. Her gaze is fixed on her lap, where her fingers are slowly tracing the crescent moon from the ancient book. The motion is absent, repetitive—a physical mantra to keep her panic at bay. But it signals her worry that people will come after her sister rather than her. That alone may force her hand in this mad plot to draw the attention of a group who have been trying to kill her for centuries.
Feray’s safety is the one thing that would certainly change her mind about helping a Fae she’s only just met.
“She’s not just a lure,” I say, addressing the councilors as I speak for my new family. “Our mate is a person who has a life that was built before she ever knew of this bullshit—one she values. If you want our help, you’ll guarantee her safety—no matter what the cost. If the attacks escalate, and one of you gets cold feet and betrays us, I’ll know. I’ve had centuries to learn how to make people regret things, and I’m certain the rest of our clan feels the same.”
Shailagh laughs, which I’m sure is a normal response for someone of her stature when threatened. “It’s a deal, then. We’ll formalize it with a blood pact.”
Tiernan huffs. “I’d rather eat a live bird in this form.”
My lips curve up at his statement, and I nod. “I believe the more formal handshake will suffice for us, but it must be all who are present to seal this deal. Correct, Prince Revelin?”
Morana stands, gathering the documents Fiadh surrendered earlier. “We’ll have you escorted back to your suite. There’s a dinner tonight. It will be attended by the heads of all the noble families, and likely by some of the cabal’s proxies. If you’re clever, you’ll identify them.”
We rise as well, each of us shaking hands with each of the council members one by one. The swirl of magic makes my skin crawl; I do not enjoy being tied to those I have not chosen myself. As they prepare to leave, the Duchess looks at us with amusement.
“Don’t be late to the dinner and don’t bring weapons to the feast room.”
“I am a weapon,” Khol says as he glares at her. “And I’m still coming.”
“I would expect no less,” she replies. “But you know what I meant. No physical weapons, even those you believe are concealed. The mages will check periodically.”
Of fucking course they will.
The councilors file out, leaving the Vizier to stare daggers at us as he unlocks the obsidian doors. Once the council is gone, he turns to Revelin and snarls, “You’d better not fail. This has been centuries in the making, and it’s not just your court that will suffer if it does not go as planned.”
“I’m not stupid, Vizier,” Revelin says, tossing his hair with all the grace of a supermodel and none of the subtlety. “I grew up learning all the tactics and schemes that will be in play tonight. We’ll be fine.”
The door opens on our side of the room, and we’re allowed to leave—finally. We climb the steps with an escort behind us, keeping our thoughts to ourselves since we are being observed. Even Khol stays silent as we’re led through the passages and back to the level where our suite is. When we open our door, our guard watches us until we close the door.
When we’re alone, Tiernan shakes his head. “This is bad. We’re being set up to expose a conspiracy, but there’s no guarantee these councilors aren’t playing both sides.”
Khol paces, arms folded. “That doesn’t matter. It’s the only shot we have at understanding what the fuck is going on before the baddies smoke us out with an actual demon.”
“Are you truly good with this?” Revelin looks at me, then at Fiadh, his expression concerned.
She lifts her chin, meeting his gaze dead-on. “As long as no one expects me to fight these fuckers wearing a goddamn princess dress, sure.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “Sorry, witchling. I think you’re going to have to suffer through several formal events before this is over. You may as well get used to it.”
Fiadh glares at me, but her hands are steady now. The crescent moon is outlined in white on her palm—she must have used magic to place a reminder of why she’s doing this there.
“Let’s get comfortable until some jackass comes to dress us up again,” she grumbles as she looks around. “I need a lot of decompression time after that shit.”
Fiadh drops onto the fainting couch to gather herself. She sits there, hands clenched, staring at the nearest mother-of-pearl mirror as if she expects her reflection to morph into her worst nightmare. The weight of her newfound heritage is pressing hard on her; I can tell.
“Witchling,” I say gently, approaching with care I reserve for the truly dangerous or the truly wounded. “You can talk to us about this. I went through something… in the realm of this when I was turned. We are all experienced in finding out things in our lives were lies, I would wager.”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, her spine goes rigid, and her eyes roll back so only the whites show. Revelin curses and rushes to her other side, his expression worried.
