Page 28
Fuck, is this guy a hybrid? That would have been nice to know.
My mouth goes dry, and there’s a pressure in my body like the moment before a sneeze, only it’s in my bones and my blood. The mark on my palm burns like it is actually on fire.
I know what’s about to happen, but there’s no time to warn anyone.
The twins step in unison, and the one not going for the weapon flicks his wrist. A blade, thin and pale as a shaving of glass, appears between his fingers. It’s aimed at Revelin’s throat.
I don’t think; I just react.
The crescent moon on my palm goes blinding white. There’s a sensation of vertigo, like the floor just dropped away, and suddenly my arm is up and out, my fingers splayed toward the twins. Light erupts from my skin, not fire or lightning but pure, clean moonlight—solid, impossible, cold. It slams into the twins and knocks them backward, tumbling over each other like rag dolls.
Well, that’s going to fuck up our entire plan for this damn place.
Fourteen
KHOL
Moonlight erupts from Fiadh’s palm in a way I’ll never forget—without warning and as if the centuries of bloodlines behind her are sick of waiting. One second the twins are gliding at her in perfect, predatory sync; the next, a shell of silver-blue radiance slams them back, sending both flat to the floor like puppets with their strings cut.
I don’t even move; I’m not sure I could even if I wanted to.
The dome forms a half-globe of bright light so solid, that I see the hairs on my arms stand up. For a heartbeat, nothing else exists—only the crisp edges of light lapping at the base of my boots.
Those fucking Shadowthorn twins are the first to react. They rebound as a unit, but whatever glamour was present that glued their bodies in sync before is gone. Scrambling, they skid apart—one scraping backwards on hands and knees, the other making a wobbly lunge for us. Their faces are a study in panic, not the smooth menace they’d worn moments before. The tattoos on their hands writhe as if trying to cover themselves for protection.
For the first time in this circus, they look afraid of something other than failure, and it makes my basilisk hiss with glee.
The crowd then spills into the hallway from the ballroom, so bored and vicious a few minutes ago, now filled with animal-esque panic. The first wave of Fae is in denial, but the mood shifts to awe. A few grip goblets with enough force to turn knuckles white. Others back away with genuine fear, which says a lot about whom they sided with so long ago. At least three goblets hit the floor in the shuffle, and their echoes linger in the tight space as the twins grunt and snarl in front of our mate.
The crowd cannot believe how fucking stunning she is right now, but I knew, and so did the rest of our family.
There are few exceptions to the general aura of shock and fear—Lord Nightshade, for one, just smiles as if he’s been waiting for this moment. His cane ticks out a slow, measured beat on the floor, mimicking Fiadh’s breath. The old bastard is enjoying the carnage, and I’d bet money he’s already started composing tomorrow’s threats.
I’ll gut him like a goddamn pig on the spit if he moves an inch, to hell with the consequences.
Tiernan stands next to me, unreadable except for the way his shoulders are tensed. He’s ready to hurl himself at the next threat on a moment’s notice. The prince has one hand on Fiadh’s shoulder—steady as he watches her harness powers she hasn’t used before. Our vampire is grinning, but it’s not a gleeful grin; it’s the look he gets before a bar fight at Cocktails & Screams on Louie’s night off.
That smug, hungry expression should terrify everyone.
Fiadh’s chin is up, her glowing palm still out as the light arcs through her veins. She’s daring the shitty duo to try again as she watches everyone suspiciously. I’m not sure if this outs her as the missing heir or not, but my mate doesn’t seem to give a fuck anymore. People have been attacking us since we got to Faerie, and this isn’t even the worst situation we’ve been in.
Her patience has snapped, and she’s off-the chain; I love it.
Lady Morana makes her move, slipping into the hallway without preamble. Her mask is back on, a wolf’s face in hammered silver and jet, hiding everything but those glacier-pale eyes. She glides through the chaos, moving so carefully that her cloak barely stirs.
“Enough.”
Her voice is softer than before, but the command carries the length of the space. She plants herself between Sassy and the twins; the moonlight bending weirdly around her as she looks at everyone silently. For a split second, the power on display in those two women makes the entire castle feel like a powder keg one spark from an apocalypse.
“All issues regarding blood or honor,” she intones, “will be addressed in the ballroom.” She holds Fiadh’s gaze and then flicks it to Revelin. “Anyone who refuses will be considered in breach of the Midnight Oath, and subject to the consequences thereof.”
A squad of guards appears from the periphery, almost as if they grew out of the shadows. They’re masked head to toe in silver, the eye slits black and perfectly matte, no flesh exposed—just like the ones who took us down to the secret Council chamber. Each carries a halberd, but it’s the way they move that gets my scales up. I hope they’re on Morana’s side, but other than the prince, I don’t trust Fae in general.
They are too eager to trick or entrap you, and nothing stops their deeply ingrained inclination to do so.
The lead guard gestures, and suddenly, we’re being herded past the sprawled nobles, the splayed twins, and shattered glass. I move on instinct, staying close behind Fiadh. My pulse is running in time with the tap of Nightshade’s cane. The leopard falls in behind us, Revelin moves to Fiadh’s other side, and Dezi leads the group to the ballroom. I’m impressed by his control, and the absolute refusal to let any of us face whatever is coming before him. The vampire is more honorable than I would have thought before we all came together, and he’s a natural leader.
Plus, I’m pretty sure he’s hiding some major fucking shit that will shock the hell out of everyone when he lets loose.
