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“The lower tiers of Midnight are convinced you’re basically the second coming,” Rev says, and I can’t tell if he’s amused or horrified. “The Morgenstern line is powerful, but according to this, they were also honorable and kind. The gossip says the Worldroot only marks those with the potential to change the kingdom.”

Oh, that is not fucking good. I mean, yay me, but it’s going to paint an even bigger target on my back.

I feel the blood draining from my face. “I’m not just the heir, I’m some sort of savior-messiah now? Great—that’s just fucking great.”

“You’re not the messiah,” Tiernan says, his voice so certain that I almost believe him. “You’re a very naughty girl—” He stops when he catches my expression. “Too soon for Monty Python jokes?”

“Never,” I snort as I shake my head. “This realm is a fucking mess, and I say that knowing how stupid the one we came from is.”

“A bit of heroine folklore is not actually the worst thing to happen,” Dezi says, his voice thoughtful.

We all turn to look at him, and he arches a brow. “Think about it. The Court was already divided between those who support the current crown and those who want better leadership. Now, there’s a direct line to an original bloodline—and she’s got the Worldroot’s blessing. That’s going to make it very difficult for anyone to move against you openly.”

Doubtful—no one seems to have a problem with trying to kill me.

“It may help you have more watchers, though,” Rev says, his eyes lighting up. “Since the tree marked you, and it’s gotten out, there will be a lot of Fae from Midnight and even other courts who won’t want to see you hurt. It will end up helping us keep an eye on you, if they’re all slobbering over getting a peep at you.”

I look down at my hands, at the intricate whorls and sigils that now cover every inch of my skin. In the stories, there’s always some obvious key—a prophecy, a riddle, a test—but all I see is more questions. “We have to find these damn feystag clues and get out of here,” I mutter. “I’m not ready to be a star yet and I damn sure refuse to let internet whackos stop me from living my life.”

“That,” Dezi says with a smile that shows the very tips of his fangs, “is what we’re going to do. But first—” He reaches for the coffee again. “—I suggest we clean up and prepare for the day. According to the schedule the prince shared, we’re due for a tour of Ravenhold in about two hours.”

“Two hours?” I yelp, nearly spilling coffee all over the bed. “I look like I’ve been run over by a train!”

“Precisely,” Tiernan says, his expression grim. “That’s why we need every minute to pull ourselves together. The last thing we want is for the Court to think we’re vulnerable.”

There’s a general murmur of agreement, and then we’re all in motion. Dezi hands out more coffee like it’s a prescription, and Revelin speeds through a text that I assume is to his manager. Tiernan stretches, and then hops up to head for the bathroom with a wave. As I slide to the edge of the bed, Khol groans as he follows me to the wardrobe area once again.

I have no idea what I’m going to wear, but I bet he does.

We’re not out of the woods yet; we still have a show to play, a tour to complete, and a Court full of enemies who now know exactly who—and what—I am.

But we’re alive and healed, which for now, has to be enough.

Thirty-Eight

DEZI

Khol’s fingers are too thick for the delicate snaps on the jacket he chose, but he’s still shedding, so Revelin helps him. I stand on the edge of the chaos of everyone getting ready, watching like a ghost. The morning light from the court-themed window paints everything in blues and jewel tones, and their laughter as we prepare for the new battle, makes me softer than I’ve been in a long time.

Louie will have a field day when he figures out how emotional I am over this small, but loyal band of non-vampiric mates.

It makes me glad I held out for so many years, staying on the sidelines to observe rather than join my previous coven until the right ones came along. The prince’s voice is lower than usual, not the public-facing crooner or the royal, but the sound you’d make for someone who’d buried bodies with you and trusted you not to talk about it. I try to match it to anything in my memory and come up empty; the closest I can get is watching the better sires speak with their new childer in circles where the leaders are not like the ones I was turned by.

I turn to the window and touch the new mark on my neck, as I wait for them to finish. I’ve been part of the witchling’s family since it was revealed that she’s my mate, but this trip has cemented my place within it. Then, in the span of a trial, I’ve gone from holding the leash to being a rescue dog trying not to shit on the carpet. At least, that’s how I feel, even if I know it’s not how the others see me. They see me as the stern, knowledgeable grown-up and Dom, which I’m very comfortable being, but there’s a different dimension to this dynamic for me since the tree.

We don’t have time to discuss it, though I certainly will later on. That’s how real relationships work, and I intend to be part of one.

Catching Revelin’s eyes when looking back at them again, I notice him flick his chin toward the long loveseat, which survived the carnage by virtue of being too heavy to tip in the sex and violence tornado. I go, because it would be even weirder to stand and not join them for too long. However, I’m feeling introspective and running through all the possibilities we could face out there as well as brooding. I’ll have to ensure that their antics do not distract me too, as I do the job they certainly expect me to.

Khol is now sprawled in a semi-stable chair, putting his boots on the remains of the coffee table. Tiernan leans against the wall in his new outfit, scanning the room as if the next attack could come through the wall. As always, Revelin is holding court, his handsome face mischievous and bright with excitement. I sit, looking at him with a small smirk of approval at his taking charge of the part of this visit that applies to his ventures.

Revelin doesn’t speak—not right away. Instead, the prince watches me with that rare, vulnerable look I’ve learned on this tour; it’s like when he’s about to hit a note he’s not sure he can hold, or when he’s about to tell a joke that might flop. Then he finally speaks, but directly to me. “So, Dezi. You were right about their moves. I have a lot of court experience, but you seem to be better in predicting behavior from a less… biased lens. They’re definitely panicking under that cool exterior.”

I nod. “Even snakes can see when another snake’s about to strike. When you have people who took a position by violence and not some intricate inheritance or selection model, they surround themselves with people who are as inclined to crooked behavior as they are. That opens the door for coups in the future, if those people find enough support and logistics. By that, I mean the Shadow Council, obviously. They’ve been waiting centuries to oust the current regime.”

“Are we just in intermission, then?” Khol’s voice is muffled as he drinks from a bottle. “If this is halftime, we better stock up on med kits and burn phones and fuck knows what else, man. That might be an errand for when we get to town.”

“I think it’s half-time,” I say, watching the way Revelin’s knuckles go white on his thigh. “There will be another play before the time in Midnight is over and probably in Reaping as well. We must be cautious and on guard as we move around Faerie until we’re ready to leave.”