Page 9
I’m the last one to finish prepping. My look for the evening is a tight black shirt, jeans, and a long coat with hidden pockets for bribes, lock picks, or, in a pinch, bottled potions. I give myself a quick glance in the mirror, ruffle my hair, and decide that if we get caught, at least I’ll look fantastic in the mugshot.
The moment we open the door again, an icy breeze slithers down the hallway and into our suite. I shiver, more from anticipation than temperature. We file out quickly—Khol first, then Tier, then Dezi and me, with Fiadh wedged in the center for maximum protection. She grumbles about the overkill but accepts the placement.
“I am not a precious artifact,” she mutters, but there’s a tiny smile playing on her lips. “I’m capable of defending myself, assholes.”
We ignore her muttering as usual, because we know she’s only half-serious.
The hallway is a cathedral of shadows—walls lined with odd portraits and sconces that flicker with blue-white flame, floor thick with plush carpet that muffles even the heaviest steps. Above us, the ceiling arches and curves in a way that defies normal geometry, like the hallway is slowly coiling around itself.
Khol stops at the first door, leans in, listens—nothing. He tests the handle to find it locked. His hiss of annoyance makes me grin, so I take pity on him.
“Every door is likely enchanted. If we force them, we’ll have half the Court on us.” I tap his shoulder, then point to the next door. “But we have to check them all or this won’t turn up a damn thing.”
Tiernan steps in, his voice a low, professional rumble. “We make a pass down the corridor. Only open what’s unlocked, and don’t linger. If we see something, we keep moving until we find a safe place to regroup.”
“I suppose knocking on doors until we’re caught is on-brand for this family,” Dezi says wryly.
Fiadh snorts and jabs a thumb at him. “You agreed that we should explore, old man. Don’t go soft on us now.”
“I’m allowed to be annoyed at Fae paranoia and still support breaking and entering,” he says, matter-of-fact. “It’s called multitasking, witchling.”
Fi gives him the finger and we all cover our chuckles as we continue the search. We fall into a simple rhythm—testing each door, quick listens, then moving on. The only noises are the soft click of Khol’s gloves on brass handles and the faraway tinkle of music that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere.
Midnight is really invested in the whole ‘Faerie mythology’ theme.
After seven locked doors, we reach a huge stairway spiraling downward, flanked by statues of Fae warriors. Frowning, I recall how many traps we have embedded in statuary in Daybreak. I don’t know if Midnight’s magic users have adopted that trick or not, so I wait behind the leopard.
Tiernan puts up a hand, signals halt, then whispers, “This is where the security matters. If anything is going on in the palace, it’s happening on the lower floors.”
We all nod, and I add, “Keep your eyes on the statues—at home, we have them booby-trapped.”
“Do you feel that?” Fiadh asks as she looks at me. Her magic is humming now—I can almost see it, the way her hair vibrates with electricity.
The air here is charged, like standing in the wings before a show—right before the lights hit and the world becomes nothing but sound and possibility. “I do, Sassy. Lots of power down there, and you’re responding to it.”
Dezi glances at me, eyes narrowed. “Is she okay going down there or is this no longer viable, Revelin?”
“I think it’s fine,” I say, but there’s less bravado in it than I’d like. Our mate’s powers are so different from mine, and I’m not reacting as strongly to being in this court as she is.
“Then we keep moving,” the vampire says to Tier.
Together, we descend slowly. The stairs open onto a grand landing, where the carpet is replaced by inky marble. A pair of doors at the far end is cracked open, and I make a victorious sound under my breath.
Tiernan motions for us to flank him, and we do, every instinct in sync as we move down the corridor as one unit. Once we’re there, he opens the door just enough to slip through, then pulls us inside.
The unlocked room is vast and dark, but there’s a shape at the far end—a hulking rectangle that I eventually realize is a desk. Behind the desk, slumped in a chair, is a Fae man in ceremonial black, completely unconscious.
I frown as I look at Khol and Tier. They have the best noses, so I mouth, “Dead?”
Khol shakes his head and Dezi sighs heavily. “I can hear heart beats, you nitwit. His is very slow, so he’s either drugged or spelled.”
Fiadh is already inching forward, curiosity overwhelming any caution. She inspects the man’s hand, which is clenched tight around a small, bejeweled token.
“It’s a royal seal,” she whispers. “But not for this Court.”
Tiernan leans in. “Harvest? I could see them following us and getting their asses kicked.”
“No,” she says as she holds it up. “Is this Reaping, Rev?”
