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I have no idea how these people got so delusional that they’re parasocially attached to someone they’ve never spoken to in their life, but it’s pretty scary, to be honest.

Khorinea’s now smiling smugly in front of where Rev is speaking with her little coven of rich girls. Her dress is the color of a murder of crows, and it looks like it was made for an entirely different person. Sunglasses on her head, even though the sun isn’t up, and a knowing look that says she’s holding three aces—or so she thinks. Local socialites are also flocking to her—they’re all staring at the drama, savoring the moment.

I tilt my head as Sassy’s eyes land on the meddling woman, stopping her mid-laugh. For a split second, it feels like the world slows when I see the edge of blue fire crawl up my mate’s arm like a fuse on a stick of dynamite. Her breathing changes, and I worry this is the moment when she torches the entire plaza out of pure fury and frustration.

Raising a hand, I flick two fingers at Tiernan, hoping he sees it. Whether he did or not, the leopard slides left, straight between Fi and their hecklers. His shoulders are hunched and ready to spirit her away if need be. I head right, moving fast as I push through the crowd. However, Revelin, ever the showman, is the one to put a stop to the impending mess. He pauses in his speech, turning to pull her forward and hold her hand as he just gives her a dazzling smile. The move is so smooth, it’s like we’ve drilled this before.

I have no idea what he says to her as he leans in to brush a kiss on her jaw, but it seems to work. Her jaw was locked and her eyes were narrowed, but it changed with his touch. She snaps her head down and clamps a hand over her wrist, making the blue dim. Tier’s hand lands on her shoulder, just enough pressure to say, ‘I’m here and I’m not letting you fuck this up’.

For a heartbeat, the storm passes, and I let out a slow breath of relief.

Unfortunately, that’s when the next shitshow arrives. Amethyst—always annoying, but this time truly unhinged—comes power-walking through the guard line, her heels like stilettos on a torture rack. She has a clipboard under one arm, a tablet in the other, and her hair done up in a swirl that probably cost more than my last motorcycle. She blanches when she sees Revelin murmuring to Fi instead of lashing out, and I know her first plan didn’t work. Her presence forces me to speed forward back to the group, getting close enough to hear what’s going on so I don’t miss it.

“Prince Revelin,” she says tightly. “Your friends are not supposed to be on the platform. This wasn’t… The city board… She’s not on the—You will alienate your fans!”

“Stop,” Rev says firmly. “You were told how this would go, and you’ve been warned about this situation. Obviously, you’re out of your depth. We will discuss it after the tour, Amethyst.”

She freezes, and I think she knows things are about to get ugly if she doesn’t fix her shit fast. Her voice is a frantic, whispered static. “It’s not just the fans being disappointed, Your Highness. We aren’t prepped for this backlash against them. There’s local press, and court-wide press, which means your father will…”

“You should have planned for it after Harvest,” Dezi says sharply. “You could have done your fucking job and cleared the protestors before we got here. Instead, you let a riot build up at the front door. Shoddy work, and in my club, you’d be shown the door for good.”

Ouch. Ancient burn from Stern Vamp Daddy. Nice.

She opens her mouth, closes it, and then gives Revelin a pleading look. He doesn’t argue, which isn’t good for her, and instead turns back to the crowd to restart his speech. Once he’s done, he shakes all the hands, avoids those he wants to, and regroups with the rest of the family at the edge of dais. I stay in place, watching them all carefully because my absence hasn’t been clocked. Once I’m sure they’re good, I’ll go do my tasks.

Amethyst’s voice drifts to me despite the noise of the still noisy crowd. “We can’t go through the square with this mess, and the next event⁠—”

“We stick to the schedule I approved, no matter what, Amethyst,” Revelin says. “Tier, ask your crew if there’s another route to our next stop. Keep the press away, and do not let anyone behave inappropriately within a hundred feet of the entourage, no matter what they paid these crooked assholes. That definitely includes Khorinea and her hangers-on.”

Amethyst nods, scribbling on her clipboard. Her hands are shaking a bit, but that’s good in my opinion. She should be scared; she’s been getting off easy for her treachery, and it will end soon enough.

The leopard pulls out his phone and calls someone, murmuring into it as he works on Rev’s request. Our mate stands confidently next to the prince, not looking at anyone in particular but with a confidence that dares someone to start shit again. It’s probably more aggressive than it should be, but I get why she’s doing it. She wants them to know that she will defend herself if need be, and that their insults aren’t affecting her. For a moment, I let myself enjoy the sight because I’m fucking proud as hell.

Then I turn on my heel and lope off, heading deeper into the district to buy the extra weapons and defense items I was assigned.

I’m in the mood to load up on nasty shit now, so this should be fun.

Forty-Two

FIADH

I’m not sure whether Tiernan’s enhanced security detail makes me feel more like a visiting dignitary or a zoo exhibit. Every single one of the cat shifters flanking our perimeter is built like a gym ad, their silver-etched company earpieces flashing in the weird, bruise-colored light of Ravenhold’s main square. There’s a distinct hierarchy at play—the town’s local enforcers glare at our crew, but it’s clear who’s running crowd control, and it isn’t the smirking assholes with the ceremonial sashes.

They fucked that up by letting all these paid idiots in to ‘protest’.

Fidget is hunkered into my hair, working his claws along my scalp in what I think is an attempt to soothe me. He pauses every so often to pip softly and then returns to grooming the spot behind my ear that always burns when I’m about to lose my shit. Turns out he’s more effective than a Xanax, which is a minor miracle considering what’s coming at me from every side.

“—and so, with no further ado,” the Mayor says, slamming the butt of his staff onto the flagstones, “I present to you, our honored guests. May your presence bring the city good fortune, and may your reputations, ah, precede you.”

The man is oozing so much smarm he could bottle and sell it as a topical ointment. His hair looks like it’s been lacquered into submission, and his robe is dyed the exact shade of rich-dude importance favored by people who have never had an actual job. Next to him are three town councilors and two wives who’ve gone so heavy on perfume and jewelry I can taste their moods in the air—fake, sharp, and hostile.

I hear when the closest wife leans to her friend, lips barely moving. “Is that the pretender I heard about at court? I can’t believe the prince is even entertaining that nonsense.”

Her friend snorts. “She’s probably fucking him; that’s what motivates all men, even royalty. All those men are looking at her as if they’ve seen her naked, and not a one is fated, I’ll bet.”

Sigh. People who need to tear others down to feel good about themselves are exhausting.

My marks flare under my sleeves in response, glowing blue like the dashboard of a race car. Fidget chirps a threat I think only I can hear, but the women flinch, their pearls clacking together in a little Morse code of fear. I almost thank him, but he’s already moved on to preening himself, smug as a satisfied gremlin.