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I grin back. “Born ready, Sassypants. This is my oeuvre.”
Ravenhold and our enemies aren’t ready for us, but we’re sure as fuck ready for them.
Forty-One
KHOL
Ravenhold looks like it was built by a sadistic undertaker with a grudge against the sun. The towers go up and up, but not in the clean, practical lines you’d get in the human world. Here, everything tapers and spirals and curves inward at weird, bone-breaking angles, glass and limestone fused into shapes that’d make an orthodontist weep. You’d think they’d give the place a fresh coat every once in a while, but nope—just layer after layer of grime and centuries-old despair, like they’re vying for the ‘most likely to be haunted by poor life choices’ award.
Little concerned with how bad the ‘bad part’ of town is going to look compared to this shit.
We’re now standing outside the bus, while a bazillion cameras go off and a bunch of fans scream behind barriers. Tiernan is running a fingertip down the inside seam of his jacket, probably counting the concealed blades, and Dezi is watching everything like a predator ready to hunt. Our girl is half-smiling, while she jiggles her boot as her potion flows through her. Revelin is pretending to fuss with his shirt collar in boredom, but I know he’s actually watching for his team to approach.
The sky’s a color that doesn’t exist in any paint store—like a bruise with little zaps of blue light that pulse on the horizon like distant artillery. I feel the city’s heartbeat in my pulse as I squint at the welcome area. In Briarvale, my crew would fan out and work the crowd to ensure Khal and I aren’t being hunted. Here, it’s Tier’s security folks, and while they’re good, I’m never sure how vicious they’re willing to be if necessary.
That’s okay, though—I know our family will unleash as we did in the fucking trial to protect one another.
I pop my burner out of my pocket and slide it under the waistband of my jeans, next to the knife hiding there. I catch Fiadh’s eye for a moment, not liking the weird feeling curling in my gut as the press gaggle continues their bullshit. She’s got her game face on again, but there’s a ripple of resignation under the surface. If this goes south, she’ll end up outing herself further and starting a war we’re not ready for yet. It’s a lot of pressure, and I’ve been there with the Scaleon gang before. My uncle has annexed plenty of smaller dealers and gangs in the past, and I’m usually the one executing the hostile takeover. Nothing about that is simple.
Tier walks over with his hands in his pockets, but you can tell he’s calculating everything as usual. “Amethyst is pulling some shit by not being here waiting. Rev is going to have to be even more forceful, and it will make things worse. Be prepared.”
I nod, murmuring, “Got it.”
Turning to watch the prince, I see him run a hand through his hair in a barely concealed irritation. “Nothing like a little unnecessary rebellion to spice up the morning,” he says, his voice dry enough to light a brushfire. “It tells me how this will go, and I can deal with it appropriately.” There’s a twitch in the corner of his mouth as he growls low.
If I had to bet, I’d say he actually prefers it this way—less bullshit, more clarity, and Amethyst away from Sassy for good once he’s done.
I crack my knuckles and give him a nod of agreement. “Continuing this is a really dumb idea, but I get why we’re doing it. Rolling into a city where everyone hates us with a target painted on our collective ass by the entire court, unknown assassins, skull monsters, and your own staff? Fucking ballsy, Prince. But we’re with you, no matter what.”
“Wouldn’t be any fun if it was easy—nothing is,” he says with a smirk. “Roping our mate in was a challenge, and look how that turned out.”
Good point, Fancypants.
Fi’s shoulders roll as she adjusts her stance, her mouth twisting up in a way that says she’s about to be trouble. She draws a slow breath, and the marks on her neck pulse briefly like a neon sign advertising bad decisions. “Let’s do this shit whether she’s here or not,” she says, eyes cold and certain. “If she gets left behind or we fuck up her plans, it’s her own goddamned fault. Actions have consequences.”
The prince winks and steps forward toward the waiting town dignitaries. There’s an instant wall of sound as he does so. A riot of music, the static of voices shouting, and a high keen that could be magic or just the wind through the towers. Tiernan follows as the rock star faces his fans and the political folks with the charming, handsome smile he’s known for while Sassy and I move behind them.
Pixies buzz overhead like drones, little pinprick eyes pointed straight at us as they hold cameras for the press. Town cops form a loose horseshoe around the square, looking bored but holding their wands as if they actually know how to use them. Above the fray, banners hang from the rooftops—some with Revelin’s face on them, some just crude, hand-painted insults about witches and traitors. There’s a sign that reads ‘GO HOME WITCH BITCH’ in blocky handwriting.
Bet we found the work of that Khorinea moron; she’s just begging to be humiliated so thoroughly that she never recovers.
I eye our flank, and Dezi drifts at the opposite edge, always just one step out of sync, like he’s pacing the herd. We push through the gauntlet as the crowd parts—not by much, but enough to get us close enough for the prince to step up and address everyone. A chorus of boos starts as Tiernan makes way for Fi to stand by him, and it builds quickly as a bunch of nasty ass signs immediately appear amongst the attendees. They’re crude, like the banner, and some are even violent, but our girl doesn’t even flinch. Exchanging a glance with the vampire, I scout out the source of this shit.
That’s when I see Khorinea standing dead center of the ‘welcome gaggle’ between two of the local elites. In a place like Ravenhold, that means they’re probably paying for the privilege of being that close, and Amethyst has made certain this idiot could set up all the negative stuff before we arrived. The smarmy Fae’s hair is done as if she thinks she’s the star of a reality show, and her lips are painted black as a threat. She grins when she sees us, teeth just a little too sharp for flashing at royalty.
Instead of staying put, I peel off, ducking into the crowd. I need to go places, but first, I want to do a little dumbshit control. When I’m ten feet away from the delusional chick, I give her my best ‘don’t fuck with me’ smile and flash the knife in my pocket just enough for her to see the handle. She just winks with a knowing look, and that’s when I know it’s gonna be a very bad day. The woman isn’t even worried I’ll gut her like a goddamn fish, and she’s on the other side of the Veil enough to know my rep says I’ll definitely do it.
There’s a bigger force supporting her than just the stupid ass tour manager, but who?
A guy in a suit who is supposed to look like security, but is not one of Tier’s cats, tries to block my path. I sidestep, shouldering him with just enough force to make it clear I could do worse. He gets the message, luckily, and I keep moving with the stealth of my reptile. I’m determined to find the dangers in this mass of Fae before I slip away, and once I do, I can let the others know. The feralness of the crowd is making me hungry for vengeance, and I growl softly as I continue my path.
I think the square is a trap, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. Sighing as the prince talks via the magic he’s using to project, I pause for a moment to watch my family as they stand around him playing their roles. For the moment, they’re fairly secure, but anything could set this wild group of people off, especially those who are obviously being coerced or paid to protest a woman they don’t even know.
Amethyst and Khorinea will pay for this shit—mark my words—but for now, I’m going to follow the plan.
“That woman is enchanting the prince to keep him from us! She’s a witch and she doesn’t belong here!”
The shout comes from the far edge of the crowd, and I spin in place, looking for the agitator. The town security is useless with those interruptions as Revelin talks, so I know they won’t move. Every time something like it happens, I catch at least three pixie cams looping above, their little eyes twitching to track the salacious news. In the crowd, more homemade signs wobble like shark fins. So far, I’ve seen ‘FAKE FAE’, ‘NOT WORTHY’, and dead center, a clever ‘DITCH THE WITCH BITCH’. If there’s any doubt about what they want, it’s spelled out in several Fae languages and a lot of hand gestures.
