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Of course, the mayor’s right at the center of the action, positioned so the next photographer or press pixie can capture him in full glory. Flanking him are six mothers in dresses cut from the same pattern in dark, jeweled toned silks, each more Midnight Court chic than the last. Their cheekbones that could probably open a can and their smiles are so sharp you need a tetanus shot after looking at them. The air is full of designer perfumes, all designed to smell like power and trust funds, and they have huge fancy-looking hats that remind me of human royalty.
This is gonna suck…
Revelin stands in front of our group, effortlessly outshining them with his poise and confidence. Half a step away from us, Amethyst is clutching her clipboard, her jaw clenched as she watches with eagle eyes. I turn to see that Tier has his arms folded and a neutral expression as he stares at the tour leaders, but his body language says he’s one inch from tackling the mayor if the man so much as gestures wrong. A ripple in the energy behind me tells me Dezi is near. When I glance over my shoulder, his red gaze is sweeping every face and every window, clocking every potential threat and clue.
The mayor launches into his monologue the moment everyone is watching. “Welcome, welcome, honored guests, to Silvergate Academy! It is the jewel of Ravenhold, the cornerstone of promising Fae youth, and a place where generations have prepared to serve our great city and the Midnight Court with unwavering excellence!”
The man’s voice could take paint off a wall, and I am losing patience for this bullshit like a balloon with a slow leak.
“Why, this very week marks the eighty-ninth anniversary of Silvergate’s founding—did you know our first headmaster was a second cousin to King Cathán himself? And since that storied beginning, we have—”
Fake king, Cathán, is what he should say, but whatever.
The dude is in full performance mode, though, so I try not to roll my eyes hard enough to cause a migraine. I don’t give a single fuck about all this bullshit, especially because I know when we get to the necropolis it will be heart-wrenchingly different. The school won’t be covered in expensive decorations on the outside walls and gate; the people meeting us won’t be primped and well-fed, and the students will work with the least possible materials because they aren’t the chosen elite. And this fucking douchebag will make it sound like they’re being kind to the Fae, creatures, and children there by even teaching them anything. It’s going to make me want to go completely nuclear, just like the crap they did to Fer and me simply because we couldn’t work magic well.
In the meantime, Fidget has retreated to the crown of my head, his wings furled tight, and he’s massaging my scalp with enough force to border on pain. He’s trying to keep me from combusting, which is appreciated even if it hurts a little. My hands curl into fists at my sides, and I fight the marks wanting to light up under my sleeves. It’s hard, though, because the Fae here are too busy self-congratulating to notice a bonfire being lit at their feet.
One mother steps forward, her silky skirt crackling like starched paper. “We are so thrilled for you to tour the academy, Your Highness,” she simpers at Revelin. Her eyes flick sideways to me and hold there, as if she’s trying to decide what she can get away with saying. “Did you know our alumni include not just court ministers, but three separate Fae magical laureates?”
“Silvergate’s arts program is second to none as well. I’ve heard you’re quite the singer yourself,” another mother says to me as she joins her friends, and it’s so fake-friendly I nearly laugh. “Perhaps you could inspire some of the younger girls by showing them a witch can have elegance as well as power.”
Oh, she wants me to take that bait, but I don’t.
I smile wickedly, every tooth showing as I let the silence sit for a second longer than is polite. To her credit, the woman holds my hostile gaze without flinching, but I assume that’s because she’s too empty-headed to know when she’s outmatched in every way. I hear Dezi chuckle softly, and there’s a whisper-soft caress at the small of my back to show support.
A third mother, whose hair has purple roots showing at the base of her platinum, gestures up at the enormous crest above the gates. “Our legacy is important to us. Generational achievement is the future of Midnight Court, especially from the long-standing loyal families whose children attend Silvergate,” she says, making a little circle with her fingers in the air as if that phrase has a deeper meaning she can’t say out loud with cameras around. “It’s about more than grades and talent. Our heritage builds the future of the Court brick by brick, and we honor that commitment every day.”
I flick a glance at Rev. He’s stone-faced, and I know that means he’s caught something the rest of us non-Faerie residents aren’t aware of. He can put on a mask and hold it, so this grimace means he’s very upset with whatever the hell that bitch just signaled.
The mayor takes control again, sweeping his hand across the gates as if he personally constructed them. “Today is truly an honor for our students. Receiving a visit from Prince Revelin and his distinguished… retinue… is a moment they will never forget. Silvergate teaches not just knowledge, but the values of our city, the traditions of our ancestors, and a healthy respect for their place in the world. Today, they see firsthand what is possible if they work hard and serve their court faithfully!”
He says this as if we all don’t know half the kids here are related to the people who run the town and maybe even sit in the court, so they didn’t earn shit.
In the middle of this slow-motion disaster, Khol reappears at my side. One moment he’s not there, and the next, he’s at my left elbow in a stance so casual you’d think he’d been standing there for an hour. His hair is tousled, his eyes are bloodshot but bright, and he’s grinning with barely concealed venom.
The basilisk leans in close enough that only I can hear, and mutters, “That last one is going to snap her own neck with the way she keeps craning it to see the Prince’s ass.” He nods at the mother, hissing a little. “Also, pretty sure the high requirements here only mean nobody gets in unless they can trace their lineage back to someone who helped overthrow your mother.”
For a second, I can’t tell if I want to punch him or laugh, but all that comes out is a sharp, strangled breath. Fidget claws at my head, frantic, then goes dead still as if sensing the oncoming violence. Gritting my teeth, I mutter, “Careful, babe. I’m a minefield of magic struggling to get out and teach people a much-needed lesson.”
Before he can respond, the mayor pivots abruptly, turning to address my prince directly. “Your Highness, the honor of your visit will be spoken of in Silvergate for centuries to come. We’d be remiss if we didn’t show you the Hall of Achievements before the performance—perhaps you’d even care to say a few words to the assembled students? Our academy’s founders—”
Rev holds up his hand, the movement so elegant it freezes everyone in place. “Thank you, Mayor, but I must insist we stay on schedule with no extra stops. I promised a group of students I’d meet them at their school as well, and I don’t want to disappoint them. That matters far more than seeing a display of trophies that are likely featured in every recruitment video on the website.”
Tell them, baby; hot damn, he’s sexy when he’s telling off the socially stunted rich fucks.
No one says anything for a moment, and then Revelin smiles. It’s so polite and charming that the mayor deflates on the spot. I watch one of the mothers actually choke on words, caught between wanting to praise her children’s success and not wanting to contradict an actual prince.
Amethyst tenses so hard, that her hand goes white at the knuckles where it clamps her clipboard. She gives me a look of pure fury, as if this is all my fault. I ignore her because I don’t think anyone in the realm could force Revelin Puck to do something he truly didn’t want to, even his dipshit father. The guy is living his life in defiance and is too popular for Oliver to do much about it without risking that charisma being turned on taking the Daybreak throne. I’m not making him a decent person; I just support it enthusiastically, unlike her.
The mayor tries one last time, and I wonder if he’s being paid to shill for something or just dumb as hell. “Just one more point of interest, Prince—”
“No is a full sentence,” the prince says, and his tone is final, like the closing of a steel vault. “We respect the autonomy of others in Faerie, and you are edging quite close to causing an inter-court dispute. I doubt it would please your rulers, and I know it will infuriate my father.”
The crowd gasps, and I smile gleefully as my magic vibrates happily at their sudden fear. Khol sidles closer to me, tongue flicking and his fingers brushing mine as he whispers, “I can taste that, Sassy. Behave so it doesn’t distract every male within sniffing range. That will make it difficult not to murder people, and if you think I’m overreacting, the vampire will be so much worse.”
Thankfully, the gates swing open at exactly that moment. Revelin nods at us, and we move forward without another word. The whole group—mayor, council, mothers, the press pixies, and a thousand silent sycophants—funnel behind us into the main quad of Silvergate Academy. We march in, Fae perfection on every side, the cameras eating up every step. The mayor is still nattering on about ‘legacy’ as we cross the quad, but I don’t hear it anymore. I’m too busy watching the building ahead, counting every window where I can see a face pressed close, waiting to see if these kids even give a shit about our visit.
Inside the gates, the air is tranquil, but charged with an immense amount of magical energy. I’m not sure if it’s the architecture, so many powerful kids, or something else more sinister. All I know is that there’s nothing that feels like it can best Rev and maybe me individually, but if they all banded together, we’d need to do some pretty awful shit to escape without being killed.
