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Our mate’s smile dies, but only for a second. She squares her jaw and looks every inch the murder queen Khol said she was. “We don’t let them spook us, and we keep Rev’s agreements whether they like it or not. Besides, we have to check out the feystag stuff, and we haven’t seen a damn thing to show us where to go yet.”
Khol grins. “Fuck yeah, Sassy. Tell ‘em to get bent. If they make a fuss, it means that bitchy chick who hates you can release a bitchy statement about Midnight hospitality. Right?”
I glance at the clock on the wall with a sigh. They’re both correct, but our timetable for Midnight is shrinking faster than a courtier’s integrity. “Okay,” I say with a sigh. “Here’s how it works. We march into that throne room and don’t apologize for shit. We let the Council moles declare her a winner and then bring up finishing my tour stuff. We’re going to completely ignore what winning means, hoping they’re desperate enough to play along for now. Does that sound good?”
Khol slaps his hands on the table as he nods. “Probably the best we’ve got for the moment, Prince. I’m game.”
“If they try anything, we fight back, though, yes?” Tier asks carefully. “We brought your magic sword for just such an occasion, Knuckles.”
I look at the woman in question. She’s watching us with an expression I’ve only seen on people who are very close to believing in their magic and power for the first time. “Are you ready for that, Sassy? Once it starts, we won’t be able to stop it, you know.”
She lifts her chin, her dark eyes blazing with new confidence. “Yes. If I have to, I’ll take the mantle and ride, even if I don’t want to yet.”
That’s when the door doesn’t open so much as it explodes, the handle denting the plaster and the hinges shrieking in protest as Ro enters.
This is definitely not something we have time for, yet here she is, and we’ll have to deal with it.
Thirty-Two
FIADH
There’s a hush over the suite, the aftermath of disaster always louder than the disaster itself. It’s not a peaceful silence—more like the sullen quiet after a bar fight when everyone’s trying to decide if they’re still mad, or just too sore to keep punching. We are all raw, so when the door explodes open with a sound like a cannon shot, I nearly blast whoever is behind it. There’s a buzz of displaced air, and then Ro is in the room, floating a few inches above the ground like a missile made of sarcasm and punky-colored hair.
Ever been so tired and angry you considered how you’d look in a prison jumpsuit? Yeah, that’s me right now.
She’s wearing a suit so sharp I would have bet Dezi picked it out. Her hair is spiked into a perfect faux hawk, and she’s holding a tiny tablet under one arm like it’s a badge of honor. Her wings beat so hard that the broken furniture dust on the carpet lifts in a micro tornado around her.
“With Mother, Crone, and Sparkle Pony Goddess in tow, blessing madness wherever you go. A sprinkle of glitter, a ritual or three turns your journey into a murder mystery,” Ro says as she flits around looking at the chaos for a moment. She circles the room twice without touching down, finally landing with a heel-click. Her eyes go from the wrecked bed to the blood spatter on the wall and then to me, where they stick like glue. She whistles, low and impressed.
“Holy shit—that’s quite the glow. Is that your look, or did something explode? Did you eat a disco ball on a dare or is this Court fashion you’re choosing to wear? All shimmer and sparkle, blindingly bright like chaos, decided to dress up tonight?”
Oh, this is going to make my entire brain hurt; I feel it in my aching bones.
I open my mouth to fire back a sarcastic response, but I’m interrupted by the way Ro’s eyes keep darting from my ears to my mouth to the marks on my hands. She’s logging changes like a guard at the Fae portal. She points her stylus at me and narrows her eyes.
“Explain that, please—keep it clean, keep it tight, use words that won’t land you in royal prisons tonight,” she says. “Break it down simple, no crimes to confess—just give me facts I can hear without royal distress.”
Khol grunts and stretches, baring his fangs at her in annoyance. “It’s not that complicated, you little gnat. We beat the death trial and the big angry tree; they had crazy sex, and our mate is officially a fucking magical Fae. The rest is just blood and snacks.”
Tiernan doesn’t look up from his drink as he snickers. “The rest is a long story, Ro, and one we do not have time to rehash.”
The pixie gives a single, skeptical eyebrow-raise, and then turns her attention to me and her prince. Rev sighs and shrugs before he says, “Sassypants was never a witch—that’s why her magic was weak and didn’t work. Her bloodline is far more ancient and complicated. She was bound, her actual parents were killed, and the Midnight Court is now fully aware of her claim to it. There was a trial we had to face, and it sucked, but we all survived. That’s the most inclusive synopsis we can give for you to report because we still have to deal with the fallout from it.”
Ro’s stylus scribbles notes so quickly it almost catches fire. “Noted—got it, loud and clear. So the blood splatter… purely décor, I hear? That big-ass sword is just part of the scene, or are you living out something a little less clean?”
“That,” Dezi says sharply, glancing at the pixie with an unamused look, “is the product of a magical feedback event. Do not touch it and stop asking so many questions. We are far too exhausted to be taking a magical survey, wee appetizer.”
“I’d like to know where the fuck she got that damn tablet,” I mutter. “Do they make shit like that here, Rev, because they do not in Briarvale or wherever she’s been popping back and forth to.”
Ro cocks her head with a stubborn expression, and Khol flips her off with the casual air of someone practiced in responding that way. Floating closer to me, the messenger’s wings hum faster.
“The device I use is to make things light so your job runs smoother from day into night. I don’t stay still while you roam and explore, or your fluffy one chases adventure and more. Loose notes and papers get lost in the fray or crumble to nothing and drift far away. All that I want, both simple and true, is to make things less irritating for you.”
I finally get a word in. “Fine. That actually makes sense, but I gotta ask. Are you here to tell me something or judge my life choices, Ro? Because Dezi isn’t lying; we have assholes to put in their place.”
She snickers and points the stylus at me like a weapon. “I’m here with news from the realm just beyond where your sister now rules and her men have grown strong. Don’t be angry at what I’ve been sent to report. All is well—I swear it—no one’s been hurt. She just wanted you looped in, nothing too curt, just a whisper of truth… and a little bit of dirt.”
Looking down at my hands, I roll my eyes and ask the universe for enough patience to get through this with Rev’s tiny messenger. I notice my marks shifting as my mood changes, new lines running up my forearm and blooming across my collarbone as the pixie speaks. I have no idea how to analyze that, so I stare at the woman, hoping she will continue.
