Page 67
I would much prefer to be duking it out with the royals already, but the prince’s messenger hasn’t fucked off yet.
Ro has perched herself on the window seat, boots up and wings slightly spread for balance. There’s a lamp overhead, and it bathes her spiky hair and wings in gold, throwing every sharp edge into high relief. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she was the angel at the top of a Christmas tree. That is, right before something falls and shatters, and you realize she’s a freaking devil instead.
“Look at this, Khol—just take a spin. Feray’s got the whole damn pack reeled in. Wrapped ‘round her finger, tight as a ring, even the old guard’s bending the knee to her swing. It’s bold, it’s ruthless, it’s flawlessly done—kind of genius, not gonna lie… she’s already won.” She flicks her wrist, and a digital sketch of a crown spins on the glass, the ink lines all aggressive swoops and jagged crescents. Below it, there’s a list of names, some circled, some crossed out.
This obsession is making the reptile inside of me slither, and I’m not sure why, but I won’t ignore it.
I grunt, mostly to show I’m listening. “Full coup and the Luna crown just materializes out of thin air? That seems like it took more work than you’re letting on, wee pixie. I’ve been part of a tight-knit species group my entire life, and it’s no picnic to sway them from what they’ve always known.”
Ro grins without looking up. “You’ve got the pack mentality down cold, but she’s new and bold. I saw it myself—through her power, her sight, through memory burning, clear as daylight. They all stood behind her, no voices to stray, in full agreement with all she would say. She sent me on wing, no time for delay, to carry the truth and deliver the say. It’s real—no question, no contest to prove, Queen Wolf ascended… no one can move.”
I really fucking want to believe her because the alternative is that this pixie is not delivering news, but her own biased spins.
But I know the world better than most people in it, and it’s a nasty, unpredictable place.
Maybe our friends are compromised, and the pixie has been forced to lure us back too soon. Or the changes she’s describing are all real but romanticized so greatly that we’re not aware of the true situation. I have to figure this out so we know what we’re actually going to find when we step through that portal to our old home.
I tap my fingers against the windowsill as I ruminate on how to handle this without alerting the others. “What aren’t you telling me?” I say, not bothering to sugarcoat it. “There’s always something under the headline, so spit it out.”
Ro’s smile gets wider, green eyes glowing a little in the half-light. “Is it obvious I’m skipping the parts that drag? You’d think that’s a crime, hissy snake with a nag. I’m worried instead ‘bout the gaps in the tale, too much going on where the records all fail. There’s fighting off-script, in the dark, out of sight, enough to make cities unsafe overnight.”
The pixie hovers for a second, her wings buzzing in micro-vibrations that stir the dust off the curtains. The tablet she’s looking at shifts, and for a heartbeat I see a snippet of what she’s reading now: a Fae newspaper. It has a map of the Harvest Court, shaded in warning colors, with the words ‘troop movement’ blinking at the edge.
I don’t think she meant for me to see it, but she knows I did, so Ro sighs. “Messengers hunted, informants laid low—three didn’t make it; they never got through. One torn to pieces so badly, it’s grim; they had to send parts just to account for him. But if I told you how bad it really goes, she’d be gone before I could finish the prose. Your friends in Briarvale? They’re safe, as far as I know… But that’s where the truth—and my knowledge—runs slow.”
I turn that over, looking for the sharp edge. “So you agree we should stay here now because you saw that map I wasn’t supposed to see. I assume it’s from the King’s spies in Daybreak? You don’t want anyone to know because my mate might decide not to go back there first if a war here is on the horizon.”
Her mouth tightens as she frowns. “The minute you step out of line, make one wrong choice? Every court gets a reason to silence her voice. They won’t come for her first—they’ll go for her heart, gut her mates and her prince, tear her universe apart. You’re not just a gangster with deals in the night; you’re bigger than one petty fight. Queen Princess Punk Pricklypants—yeah, that name’s gonna stick—is a banner of hope wrapped in chaos and grit. But her sister still needs her; that truth doesn’t bend, and that has to come first before anything mends. Nothing here heals, nothing here moves on; if the past stays shattered, the future is gone.”
That’s bullshit spun to serve her preferences, but it tastes almost sweet, so I know she put a little magic into her words.
I don’t reply right away; instead I look back out over the treacherous garden. Rev’s supposed devoted servant has taken a turn while she’s been gone, and I can’t extract why. What I definitely know is that her allegiances are mixed, and we have to take all her missives—in the past and now—with a grain of salt. We have no idea when she might have been compromised, much less who did it.
Ro nudges me with the toe of her boot. “I’ll keep you posted, Khol—no lies, no disguise. Fiadh gets the truth; I won’t soften or sanitize. If something goes wrong, if the shadows run late? I’ll find you before it can twist into fate. No secrets, no silence, no lines left to blur—you’ll hear it from me… I give you my word.”
Nope, that isn’t suspicious at all. I didn’t even express my concerns about trusting her out loud.
As she looks out at the Midnight garden waiting for my reply, I reach into the inside pocket of my vest and slide out a folded slip of paper I noticed inside it after the tree fight. It’s not much, just a line scratched in ink so black it looks like a burn. It says, ‘may be lies. trust nothing’. I crumple it in my hand, and shove it back where the pixie can’t steal it. I have no idea how good this one is at sleight-of-hand.
Rowena pushes off from the windowsill, straightens her clothes, and shakes out her wings. “Tell me what I’m missing—what needs to be said, I’ll run every message, make sure it’s all spread. What slipped through the cracks, what didn’t relay? I don’t want regrets haunting you later in the day. If Feray and her crew need a piece of the truth, I’ll carry it clean—every warning, each proof. You’ve got courts waiting, no time to delay, so give me the words—I’ll be on my way.”
“We didn’t leave anything out. You know everything you need to. Now go before the vampire decides you’re a snack. I don’t know how we’ve been able to have this conversation without the others interrupting as it is.”
“Pixie magic, snake. It’s too baller to fake.”
I let her have the last word as she takes off, but only because it gives me time to think. Staring at the garden until my eyes adjust, I smile at the shapes of all the hidden predators who come into focus. I doubt it’s ever quiet in Midnight, and something about the name says Reaping won’t be any different.
Turning back to my family as they chatter about what the pixie brought, I grin to myself.
If Ro lied—even a little—I’ll be the first to find out and the first one to make that hurt.
Revelin’s perched on the edge of a settee, but there’s an energy to him that wasn’t there before. He’s buzzing, probably from whatever Fae energy shit or liquor he drank. The way his eyes dart to Fiadh every five seconds says everything; he’s waiting for her lead, even though he could start this shit himself.
My sassy mate is now at the dresser with her back to the room and both of her hands braced on the marble top. There’s a slow pulse of light coming from her right palm—faint but insistent, like a heartbeat. She rolls her shoulders once, and then turns to face us, her eyes bright and unfazed. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she’d already forgotten about everything but the next step in this realm.
I know better, but her ability to mask emotions is improving daily.
Tiernan’s sitting in a high-backed chair, his arm out of the sling as he flexes his fingers. It’s already coming along because of shifter healing; the elbow is swollen, but not as ugly as before. He catches my eye, nods once, and then I move my attention to Dezi, who’s doing what that damn vamp does best—lurking.
