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Tiernan flicks his gaze to every goblet within reach as we await the next course. He’s not happy about the wine, and now he’s going to be extremely overbearing.
“Don’t drink unless I taste it first,” he tells Fiadh, not bothering to keep his voice down.
She snorts, and slides her glass to him. Tiernan sips it solemnly, rolling the wine around his tongue, swallows, and nods. “It’s clean. No drugs, at least.”
Fiadh arches a brow. “Can you taste poison?”
Tiernan grins, shrugging. “Only the ones that specifically hurt Fae like the iron from last time. Not anything you magical folk or a basilisk would use.”
Khol hisses, his lips hitching as he looks at the people who have stared at our mate. “I’m not above showing them what we’re really made of in response to their insult, Revelin. Say the word.”
“Can you even milk a basilisk?” Fi wonders as she sips her wine. Her eyes widen, and she coughs once. “Fuck, that’s strong.”
“No one is milking anyone,” Dezi cuts in under his breath as we all snicker at the pouting reptilian. “Do not make me start devising punishments. We have enough to do at this ridiculous event.”
“I’m on board either way, bloodsucker,” I say, and reach over to squeeze Fi’s hand. My fingers brush her wrist, where her pulse beats frantically and hot.
“Oh, I think she likes that threat. You should definitely go ahead and make dual plans, vampire. We’re going to have a wild night even after we retire. Right, Sassy?”
She doesn’t answer right away, just meets my gaze, and there’s so much naked desire burning in her that for a second, I can’t look away.
“Never better,” she says, and I almost believe her, except I can sense the other emotions underneath the heat.
The banquet continues as a new course of edible art and barely disguised malice is delivered. There’s a soup with a fish that glows in the dark served with pudding that fizzes with every bite. My family eats what they can based on my recommendation, and every time our table falls silent, the volume in the room spikes—like they’re waiting for a signal.
I don’t like this at all, but it’s still not the worst state dinner I’ve attended.
By the time the fifth course arrives, every eye in the hall has drifted back to us at least twice. I can feel the air thickening, magic and tension mixing into something nearly solid.
Tiernan leans back, surveying the room. “If this is a trap, it’s the slowest one I’ve ever seen.”
I smirk, flicking my gaze to the Council. “They want witnesses. If someone tries to take us out, they need to be able to deny, distract, and destroy. It’s classic Fae tactics.”
Khol shrugs, winking at me. “Let them try that shit. I’m ready, no matter what. Our uncle loves to host shit like this with bad guys who are enemies hoping they start a war where he can strike them down. He’s like a cartoon villain sometimes.”
“I’ll bet a bottle of ancient merlot that they hit us at dessert. Poison is easier, but I sense a preference for spectacle in this room. It’s very much like what you’re saying, Khol, and similar to the theatrics my sire favored.”
Oliver enjoys this kind of shit, too.
Fi arches a brow as she squints at us. “You were all raised by megalomaniacal dickwaffles and I’m not who I thought I was. Just great. Well, we’ve been well prepared for a normal life.”
That’s when a Fae that I think someone called Lady Ebonfall stands and glides toward us, silver and black flashing in the half-light, her face a storm front about to break.
Uh-oh, it might be showtime.
Lady Ebonfall arrives at our table in a dress that has fabric that looks like it could shear bone if you weren’t careful with the seams. She wears silver like other people wear skin, and her hair is a sheet of white-blond pulled so tight it lifts the bones of her face. Her eyes—solid obsidian, no whites at all—lock on Fiadh with a hunger that isn’t even pretending to be friendly.
She curtsies, not deep, but enough to show who the moment belongs to. “Good evening, Prince Revelin,” she says, her voice velvet on the outside, steel cable within. “What a surprise to see you gracing the halls of Midnight. Diplomacy was once a great equalizer in the courts. When I was young, your mother and father visited our lands for such a venture, but civilized times are no more.”
“Ah, but that is untrue, milady. I am touring all the courts with my band, visiting schools to speak to children about music along the way. It is my type of diplomacy, for sure, but it is in the same spirit as the old ways. Do you disagree?”
For a split second, the woman is frozen—caught between polite behavior and rage. “No, I suppose not, Your Highness. And I see you’ve brought your… entourage as well. It is not often that royalty invites their staff to this sort of dinner. You’re very progressive.”
Fiadh’s jaw grits and her hand finds mine under the table as she growls, “We were invited and introduced as his family, not his staff. Have respect for the Prince when you speak about who he has included—even if they are staff.”
Lady Ebonfall’s mouth curves, elegant and sharp. “Forgive me… Miss Morgenstern. I did not mean to suggest someone of your blood wasn’t welcome at our court.” She leans in a fraction. “Should I have been concerned about such and am unaware?”
Dezi leans in, his red eyes flashing as he glares at the woman. “Her blood isn’t your concern, Fae. It’s mine. Back off.”
