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If she weren’t a little terrified, I’d worry she wasn’t taking this seriously enough.

The bus slows, rolling up to the grand arch marking the border. Pale sentries in midnight livery appear at the checkpoint, faces hidden behind polished silver masks. They barely glance at us before stepping aside. They know who we are—or at least, who they think we are.

Inside the bus, the tension crackles. Tiernan murmurs final security reminders under his breath. Khol shifts slightly, muscles coiling under his shirt like a creature preparing for a fight. Revelin’s hands twitch toward his guitar case reflexively. Fiadh glares at the opulence ahead as if she could set it all on fire through sheer spite.

I rise from my seat slowly, savoring the moment. Outside these doors, our fates tilt irreversibly. Deals will be struck, games will be played, and perhaps, blood will be spilled. We are pieces on the board, and they will act accordingly.

Turning to face my companions, I let the full force of my power settle over them for a heartbeat. My voice is low and firm. “There are eyes everywhere. Smiles hide knives, and every moment will test you. Don’t forget that we are here for something bigger than the tour—sorry, princeling, but it’s true.”

One by one, they nod, even the pouting prince. The bus doors hiss open with a tired sigh. I step out first, my designer shoes striking the onyx cobbles with deliberate force. The air wraps around me like an old lover: cold, sharp, and laced with the thrill of danger. Behind me, my family follows: Fiadh, muttering under her breath; Tiernan, scanning every shadow; Khol, silent and steady as the statue he can turn people into; and Prince Revelin, glittering and colorful.

The Midnight Court awaits, and I, Dezi Ruby—ancient vampire, unwilling patriarch, reluctant optimist—am at the head of the storm.

Three

FIADH

The moment we step into the Midnight Court, it feels like the world exhales in warning. The cobbled path beneath my boots doesn’t make a sound, and that silence is worse than any battle cry I’ve ever heard. It’s a hush that presses against my skin, making every hair on my arms stand at attention.

I hate it, and I love it simultaneously.

Everything here is dipped in moonlight and menace. Spires stab at the sky like jeweled daggers, glittering with enchantments that practically scream, ‘try me and die’. Even the flowers that line the walkways shimmer like they’ve been hand-spun by the Fae. Yet I can’t help but gawk like a tourist because it’s so fucking gorgeous but deadly that it calls to me. My gut is twisting around like there’s something trying to get out, and I have no idea why.

Revelin strides ahead like he owns the realm—which, let’s be honest, he does in at least one part of this twisted place. His duster swishes dramatically, and I’m ninety-eight percent sure it’s enchanted to do so on cue. He doesn’t look back because he knows everyone will follow, like planets caught in his damn gravity. That’s the life of a rock star, and my mate knows he has to portray it when people are watching.

Behind me, Dezi’s steps slow. I don’t have to turn around to know he’s caught in the same snare I just shook off. The air here is laced with spells, teeth, and the weight of glamour. You feel it in your bones, whether you’ve been summoned here for glory or slaughter. That’s how Midnight wants visitors to feel, and while I respect it, my skin is humming with the tension of keeping them from getting to me again.

“Are you okay, guys?” I murmur over my shoulder.

“Okay is a loaded term,” Khol growls softly on my other side. “I’m not thrilled with their welcoming committee, nor their unspoken threats. But their magic isn’t consuming me like it would some.”

“At least you don’t have to deal with them directly.” I flash him a grin that feels more like a grimace. “Poor Rev and Tier are going to be ready to murder someone if they don’t tone this shit down at some point.”

Tiernan walks beside Revelin like a sentry, scanning every corner, every shadow, every glint of movement like it’s a threat. I don’t blame him for being suspicious; this is the least subtle reception we’ve had yet. He’s been tense since we arrived in Faerie because it’s his job, but Midnight just upped the ante by putting their shit on the table from the jump.

I’d just cancel the whole fucking thing and be done with it, but that’s why Rev has adoring fans and I do not.

Khol’s eyes gleam like dark obsidian as he looks at every member of the court in our presence. If he’s worried about Khorinea or Amethyst making a dramatic entrance, he doesn’t show it. He moves with deliberate steps, hunting and tracking possible enemies like the predator he is. My basilisk may be brash and outspoken normally, but now he’s the epitome of patience and focus.

We pass under the first archway, and the Court opens up in layers of impossible design. Balconies shaped like spiderwebs stretch above us, gardens spiral around floating orbs of light and staircases bend midair. It’s like the castle itself is deciding what aesthetic to show us as we make our way towards what I assume is the throne room. Every royal has to flaunt their personal stage when we arrive, and I doubt it will be different in Reaping or Daybreak.

The music starts when we reach a set of double doors that must be our destination. It’s a tinkling sound filled with flutes and bells, perfectly suited to Faerie, that is underscored with haunting cellos, oboes, and violins that resonate with our hosts.

The Midnight Court knows how to set a stage, I’ll give them that.

I grip the strap of my messenger bag tighter. My fingers twitch with magic that wants to rise and unravel. I can’t afford to lose control, not when I’m walking straight into a ballroom of vipers dressed as royalty. Slipping my hand into the bag, I stroke Fidget’s head lightly, using the sensation of his velvety soft fur to ground myself so I don’t fly off the handle.

Tiernan halts just outside the doors, giving us all a stern ‘behave, please’ expression as Revelin pauses to wave at the fans in the court lining our path. Dezi merely smirks at him, and I reach out to take Khol’s hand with my free one. If these assholes are as pretentious as our welcome, I’m going to need someone to remind me when I’m headed off the cliff.

Fucking rich dicks and their bullshit egos make me lose my common sense.

Of course, it looks like a cathedral and a nightclub had a baby, and that baby was raised on couture and passive aggression. Velvet drapes. Crystal chandeliers. A ceiling painted to resemble the night sky—complete with constellations that shift and rearrange themselves in real time.

“This,” Tiernan whispers to us, “is where we play nice.”

“Fabulous,” I mutter. “Kissing ass is my favorite sport.”

Dezi’s eyes flick to me, full of mirth and reproach. “Remember, witchling, the Fae value honesty, but Courts value performance. This is a dance of masks where you must not lie, but you also cannot tell the whole truth. You only win by staying within their boundaries—cleverness is your armor in here.”