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The ballroom clears in a rush of silk and bone, every noble desperate to get away from me now that the royals have arrived.
I stand there, still feeling the echo of the moonlight burning through my veins, waiting for someone—anyone—to try again. But the urge to murder me evaporates the instant I’m more trouble than I’m worth. Khol’s beside me, half a smirk frozen on his face like he hasn’t decided if he wants to gloat or hurl. Tiernan prowls just behind us, every muscle tensed for a second wave. Revelin’s hand is still wrapped around mine, knuckles white.
It’s Dezi they should be worried about based on the vibe he’s giving off, though.
Lady Morana moves first. Her wolf’s mask is back, but her voice is unchanged—sharp, cold, and devoid of the emotion she showed a minute ago. She just lifts a hand and snaps her fingers, a signal to whatever is coming next.
The two enormous doors behind the now-occupied thrones groan open. As they crack, a wedge of silver light slices through the gloom, and I can feel every hair on my arms stand up.
Morana gestures. “The Trials of the Midnight Court request your presence, Lady Morgenstern. You and all your retinue will be tested, even the prince.”
Revelin’s eyes are all daggers. “You cannot force a visiting dignitary and their entourage to submit to your whims, and you know it, milady.”
Her grin is fleeting, but I see it. “No, but it is all or nothing, Your Highness. Fiadh will face the trial as commanded by the monarchs whose blood she may share, or she is in violation of the Oath. The consequences for refusal are dire, and the trials will not accept half measures. She goes alone, or with the support of her teaghlach*.”
Dezi bows, but his sneer belies the old-school display of etiquette. “Then together it shall be, Lady Morana. Under registered protest that will be reported to the ambassadors to the Daybreak Court per the laws of Faerie, of course.”
I want to roll my eyes, but the sudden hush in the room says this is one of those moments where I need to let someone else lead. I ignore the stares of the Fae who still haven’t figured out if I’m a monster or a messiah, as I bat my lashes at the courtiers and royals. The guards adjust menacingly in a double line of silver masks and weapons pointed at the floor at his words.
It’s all theater now, and we’re the star attraction.
The king scoffs, but finally nods at Morana as if agreeing to Dezi’s terms. “So shall it be.”
Rev looks at him as he adds, “Then we will face your trials, and when we defeat them, Fiadh and my entire entourage may continue my tour and events as planned. You will not interfere, nor will you attempt to harm us as we complete our business in Midnight. Afterward, we will travel on to Reaping as planned, and any ancient business will be dealt with at a later date. Do you agree to our bargain in front of all these witnesses, your bloodlines, the magic of your Oath, and all the eyes of the old gods watching?”
“Holy shit,” I mutter as I watch Revelin’s form glow with the power of his magic and his court, lighting the room like the sun has entered the building.
I didn’t fucking expect this, that’s for goddamn sure.
His words land and hushed whispers fill the room, so I know he just laid out some serious fucking shit. The sitting leaders lean into one another, monitoring us as they confer, and then they summon the Vizier with a single snap of the queen’s fingers. His petulant expression tells me he despises being their lackey, which explains why he’s on the council with Morana and the secret rebels.
Once they all confer, the king speaks again. “It is written, it is witnessed, and so shall it be. The bloodline running through the veins of the true heirs will abide by your bargain, Prince Revelin of Daybreak.”
My prince’s grin is vicious, and I realize he’s done something the rest of us would never catch by making them publicly and verbally enter his deal. I’m suddenly proud of him, my heart expanding as I see the future ruler in the playful rockstar.
“You’re hot when you take charge like a king,” I mutter as I continue staring down the people who are sending us to die with unrestrained glee.
Rev winks at me. “You have no idea, Sassypants.”
Also hot, and not the time, damn it.
“Are we doing this shit or not?” Tier growls, finally edging toward losing his calm temperament at all the pomp and circumstance of Fae court games. “I’d like to eventually get out of this damn tux.”
That makes all the royal idiots laugh, and I roll my eyes. Guaran-fucking-teed none of those smug shitstains went through this, nor did any of their ancestors. From the little the Council imparted, they swooped in and stole those goddamn chairs like ninjas while the court was waging war with the opposing ones.
Idiots and posers, one and all.
Promising myself that I’ll deal with them when I’m able to focus on all this shit, I jut my chin up. “Tiernan is right. Let’s get on with this so the prince can show you what a real obsessed fanbase looks like.”
My gauntlet makes the heirs look pissed, but the queen and king retain bored expressions. Obviously, their experience in avoiding bait is better than that of their spoiled children.
“Allow them passage. May the eyes of the gods, both old and new, be upon you as you face their trials.”
Queen Clíodhna chuckles darkly, and I make a note that she, too, will face my wrath eventually. She certainly knows that her king and children are sitting on thrones of lies and is behaving as if she deserves to be here.
Shit, I’m actually getting pretty furious about this as if I care what happens to this court and these people—is that because my powers are activated?
Rolling my eyes at her, I turn to my men. “Come with me. Everyone answers for the crimes they commit—now and in the past—at some point. Karma has a long memory, and so do the deities whom villains offend.”
