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Tier stands half a step behind me in full bodyguard posture. I recognize his security mode because it’s how he’s spent most of our time in Faerie so far. It’s less for my benefit and more because the energy in the crowd is leaning toward a possible riot, rather than a friendly visit. His cats form a literal cordon around us, each one standing so close to the next that you’d need a molecular blade to cut between them. I’d be flattered if it didn’t make my inner rebel want to test how many of these cats I could knock down in one go.

Even in this situation, my natural inclination for chaos is peeking through.

Rev is the only one who looks at ease, standing just far enough forward to draw the lens of every photographer and pixie cam, but not so far that he can’t step back if someone takes a shot. He’s got that too fabulous to care look turned up to eleven, and the fans in the front row are practically vibrating with excitement. He throws a peace sign with a wicked grin, and half the crowd nearly faints.

Fortunately for her, Amethyst is working the perimeter; it’s both her job and her penance at this point. She’s actively steering Khorinea and her B-list socialite friends away from the main pack of dignitaries, shooing them to the far side of the platform as instructed. Every time Khorinea tries to break free and approach, the terrified manager blocks her with a whispered statement. I guess my enemy has gotten the memo after Rev’s declaration earlier. If she lets Khorinea cause even a tenth of the drama she did on arrival, she’s going to be fired by sundown.

I sense the tension in Amethyst’s body language, and it’s almost a comfort—someone else on edge makes my agitation calmer. She keeps shooting nervous glances at the government people, then at me, then back at the cameras, as if she’s calculating what the optimal angle is for damage control. I hope she figures it out soon, because the real problem isn’t here—it’s whatever is coming next that she hasn’t been able to put the kibosh on yet.

Flicking a glance at the others, I note Dezi is stone still, all eyes and patience, but his nostrils keep flaring as if he’s scenting prey again. He’s dressed in dark, immaculate layers, but even that can’t hide the fact that he looks ready to rip a spine out if anyone so much as breathes wrong on me. I expect nothing less from the now completely bonded vampire, and even though I know it would cause a problem, the lady bits are in full support of seeing him tear into a bitch.

It’s not mature, but who the fuck cares? Violence on my behalf is hot.

As the mayor drones on, the crowd noise dims, and it’s just his weirdly nasal voice, explaining the storied history of Ravenhold to a group of people who could not possibly care less. “Our town was founded by hard-working Fae—many of whom were, ah, misunderstood in their time, much like some of our honored guests,” he says, with a look in my direction so loaded I can see the bullet.

Tier’s eyes narrow, and I realize it’s his version of a warning shot—if this guy keeps it up, there will be violence, even if it’s only social. “Revelin,” he murmurs, voice pitched so only our group can hear, “this guy is acting like a goddamn fool, and you can’t allow it.”

The prince’s eyes don’t move, but his lips twitch. “Let him go for now. He’s dancing on the line, but if he stays just outside of it, I don’t want to cause an incident. Besides, I’m curious to see how they’ll handle it if Sassy is pushed to respond.”

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes at his glee in imagining me throttling this political land mine for his insolence. Squaring my shoulders, I focus on breathing, letting the cool evening air slide down my throat. It’s not the time or place for a demo of my newfound shit, and I’d prefer to avoid more politics if I give in.

My exercises help until the mayor decides to throw in a little extra. “Of course, our visitors from the Daybreak and Harvest courts are also welcome, though we do hope that your… shall we say, unique perspectives, will not cause any, ah, diplomatic incidents.”

Giving them permission to keep up their shit when we just excoriated Amethyst for allowing it is a choice… a bad one.

Fidget hisses so loudly that the microphone picks it up. The mayor flinches and tries to cover it with a hearty fake laugh, but the councilors look uneasy now, and the wives are one more comment away from a dead faint. I smirk, knowing how small he is, and that they have no idea what’s hiding in my locks making dangerous noises, so it’s much more frightening than it should be.

I decide to play nice for once as I give the odious man a knowing look. “Thank you, Mayor. I’d hate for this event to be… memorable for the wrong reasons.” I smile with every tooth. “But if something bad were to happen, it would be such a stain on this town and the Midnight Court, don’t you think? The famous rock star and prince of Daybreak being disrespected on a goodwill tour will surely make the news even on the other side of the Veil.”

There’s an audible collective inhale from the crowd. The mayor blanches, then waves a hand as if he’s waving off a fly. “Yes, yes, this is all in good fun. Now, please—enjoy the tour, and may your time in Ravenhold be brief and pleasant.”

What a cowardly little prick.

Dezi leans in before the mayor moves, hissing low. “That was a threat, by the way. He’s letting you know his town law enforcement will not stop a damn thing if it pops off during this. I’ve met his kind before—no press is bad press if his name makes the news.”

“Oh, I know,” I reply, not even bothering to whisper. “He’s no different from the High Mage douche back home. Let’s just get through this so we can do our feystag shit. Khol’s not back yet, so no one else can leave, right?”

Tiernan shakes his head, his mouth a tight line as he answers. “He’s probably already buying or stealing things from his list. I’d worry if I didn’t know he’s better than most of their security by a factor of a million. Those idiots in unis out there look like they’d break their spine lifting a donut.”

“Did you see that wife’s face when Fidget hissed at her?” Rev says, barely containing his laughter. “She nearly bit through her tongue trying to hold in a scream.”

I reach up and stroke the bat’s tiny wing in thanks. He nuzzles my hand, then turns to glare at the wives, the picture of tiny, ferocious vengeance.

Finally, the mayor gives us a halfhearted bow, and then turns to shuffle his crew off the dais. The councilors linger, and one tries to approach Revelin for a selfie, but Tiernan’s shifters tighten formation so the man backs off without a fight. As we move forward, the crowd parts, and for a brief moment, I feel as if everyone is waiting for something terrible or wonderful to happen, and they can’t decide which they want more.

They’d be better off if it didn’t, because my tolerance for bullshit is waning fast.

There’s a weight to the way the city watches us as we follow the tour guides away from the welcome area. Not just the cameras, but the people in the windows, the upper floors, and the shadowed spaces between buildings. I catch a movement on one of the balconies—just a flicker, too quick for anyone else to see. Khol, maybe? I let it go because if it’s not, the person will be taken care of by Tier’s guards.

I tuck my sleeves up to the elbow, cooling my warm skin, and the crowd closest to me goes dead silent. I hear someone whisper, “She’s marked with the old magic—a stupid witch isn’t supposed to have those markings.”

“Maybe she faked it,” another hisses. “Maybe it’s a trick, a new kind of glamour witches do on the other side to look powerful.”

I want to yell, but I grit my teeth and lock eyes with the nearest heckler trailing along with us. “Do you want a demonstration of my magic right here?” I say, channeling a little of the raw power up through my palm. The lines light up and the air around my skin shimmers. “Ask nicely.”

The Fae turns sheet-white and bolts, nearly knocking over the sign nearby. I almost laugh, but Dezi beats me to it—a real, honest bark of amusement. “You are going to break everyone in this court if you keep this up, witchling.”

“Good,” I say. “Midnight needs a good housecleaning. Too many assholes and not enough good people able to survive, it seems.”