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Revelin ends up buying the ring, and despite how annoyed she is with this visit, Knuckles looks flushed and pleased with the gift. I jerk my chin at him as a compliment, and he winks, making the vamp rolls his eyes. Once that’s done, the goblin thanks us so profusely that I think she might have an aneurysm, and the group leaves the shop to head down the main drag once more.
We cycle through two more shops—The Dirty Goose, run by Fae twins who alternate finishing each other’s sentences, and a high-end wine boutique with a wall display shaped like a ribcage. The twins kept shooting me looks that would curdle milk because I wouldn’t let them flirt with Revelin. At the wine place, the owner offers a ‘vintage midnight dream’ blended wine in a cobalt blue bottle. Dezi grabbed it, unscrewed the cap to sniff it, and handed it back with a stiff smile.
Needless to say, that vintage didn’t leave with us, and I gave both shop owners’ names to the cats.
I notice our mate’s hands are clenched tight enough that the bat ring is leaving a mark. She’s got her head up, but I can read the micro-tics in her posture; this shit is getting under her skin. I reach over and put my hand on her arm, looking at her quietly as we move and Rev mugs for the cameras.
“It won’t be long now. The school is next,” I murmur. “Just breathe.”
We’re immediately taken into our fourth stop, and the owner—a brownie with a monocle—scrambles to get behind the counter, desperate not to insult the retinue. He stands on the stool, offering a tray of sparkling magical tools as if he’s giving them away. I doubt he’d do that for anyone but a prince, and it’s clear the man is hoping nothing will tickle the prince’s fancy.
The subservience makes Fi frown, and Rev catches her eye before he says, “It’s just the old ways, Sassy. Daybreak once rolled out a literal red carpet made of roses for a diplomat. No one knew he was allergic, and they had to set it on fire to get rid of it quickly. Offering tributes is a sign of respect, even if you mess up.”
We all hear him making light, and even the mayor has to fight not to laugh at his charming shit. Obviously, he will not take a damn thing for free—of all people, he doesn’t need to—but he’s making the poor shopkeeper relax a bit so he can look at the wares.
“You do beautiful work,” our mate says as she finally gives in to look at the tools on the velvet tray. That gets the brownie to beam broadly, and Revelin smiles proudly at her.
She’s learning.
My comm buzzes, distracting me for a moment. I reach up to open the channel, listening to the update from my lead security person outside. She says the next checkpoint along the route is bottlenecked with crowds and there’s a disturbance at the crossroads ahead. Rev glances over at me as I growl softly, and I tip my head toward the door. He nods, understanding that I want to get moving.
Once the contingent finished playing nice, we leave the magical accessory shop and turn toward the end of the road. I see it narrows ahead and the buildings crowd in like teeth. The crowd’s changed here—fewer rich fans and more middle-class residents. I catch the gleam of a weapon under one guy’s coat, and the way two women across the street are giving Dezi a once-over like they’re planning to buy a piece of him. We’re definitely moving out of the Commons towards Silvergate now.
At the next corner, I see what the chatter warned me about. There’s a line of teens, maybe a dozen, dressed in secondhand uniforms, holding up a banner that reads ‘Welcome Prince Revelin, Don’t Forget Us’. There’s what I think is a teacher standing with them, trying to keep the kids from bolting into the main path. The adults around pretend they don’t see the group; a classic move in a city where poverty is considered contagious.
Those must be students from Thornwright Academy—gotta hand it to them, they’ve got guts.
The mayor tries to steer us away the minute he sees them. “This wasn’t on the itinerary—”
Revelin cuts him off, glaring at the portly man as if he might strangle him. Waiting for me, he looks over at the group, and I swallow a sigh. Not security cleared, could be anyone, and yet I know he won’t yield to good sense. I nod, moving closer to him, and the vampire flanks Fi on his other side as the prince steps up to them.
“Who here likes music?” he asks, and the dam breaks immediately. Ten voices respond all at once, each trying to outshout the others as they answer. The energy is like a wall smacking into us, but that’s because every single one of them lights up at being seen by someone like him.
Fiadh watches with her arms folded, letting them have their moment with him. But keeping out of the spotlight isn’t in the cards because one of the girls points at her and says, “Is that the witch you had on stage in Harvest?”
“Yes, this is my… friend, Fiadh.”
The girl squeals, running up to give her a hug. Our mate’s eyes widen as the teen squeezes her, and she pats the girl’s shoulder awkwardly. Once she lets go, the Thornwright teen says, “I’m a witch with a tiny bit of Fae blood and they give me sh—er, crap about it. Even at our school, where most people aren’t, you know, pure blood or powerful, there’s like mean people. But you’re friends with a rock star who is the prince of a court. It’s so cool.”
Emotions flit across Knuckle’s face before she finally smiles at the girl. “No one gets to define your worth by that kind of stuff. You choose who you want to be. And the Prince is a very kind man, for a snooty rich guy.”
That makes the entire gaggle of teens snicker, and Revelin gives her a pretend annoyed expression. It eases the tension, but I keep watch anyway, just in case this touching moment was arranged by someone with a nefarious purpose. I wouldn’t put it past scheming court dicks or the people we’ve been fighting off to use kids for their own bullshit, especially given Rev’s stance on always visiting the poorer areas.
It’s sad, and I hate it, but it’s also very possible.
Eventually, Rev and Fi say goodbye, and we muscle through the next few blocks without incident. By now, the faces in the windows are stacked three deep. My team keeps a perimeter around us, but there’s a sense of pressure—like the entire city is closing in for the big finish, and they want to see what happens when the bubble finally bursts.
Maybe it will, but I’ve got a list of threats and weak points, and my eyes are on every single one of them.
Let the mayor try to play games again, and he’ll see what happens to people who fuck with our family.
Forty-Four
FIADH
The gates of Silvergate Academy look like something you’d see on a reality show where the producers have to Photoshop out the extra bling because nobody will believe it’s real. They’re white stone with silver filigree charms worked in every swirl and what looks like enchanted crystal inlays. Those throw rainbows on the cobbles, so the entire street outside the entrance is polka-dotted with bits of light. The fancy constructs practically hum with magic and wealth in design and materials, plus they attach to high walls that wrap around the campus as far as I can see. ‘Silvergate Academy’ is emblazoned on them in swirly, fancy lettering big enough to see from space, especially since more of those vibrating crystals are embedded in the metal.
It’s an eyesore unless you’re born to think you deserve such luxury, in which case it’s the pinnacle of fashion and good taste.
