It had been days since anyone had reacted to me—to the Nightmare within, presenting the face they would think the most beautiful—and my first instinct was to reach for him. Touch his arm. Feast on the fears waiting beneath his skin. We drew up alongside him and I held the shapeshifter’s gaze.
Laurie let out a delicate cough. My head swiveled toward him, and I was already scowling. Annoyed at the interruption, because he’d disrupted the hunt.
Sharp words died in my throat when I saw the way he was looking at me. His eyes glittered, the corners of his full mouth tilted upward. Somehow, just as he had back in his rooms, the faerie prince had guessed at my thoughts. Slowly, Laurie turned away, but the connection between us didn’t fade.
If it were Collith on my arm, he would have encouraged restraint and control. It felt good to be with someone who didn’t judge or condemn that part of me—that had been admiration I’d seen in Laurie’s face. Admiration and such wicked desire that it was difficult to breathe.
“Lady Fortuna Sworn and Prince Laurelis Dondarte,” he told the herald now. I watched his face carefully for any reaction to his new title, searching for any sign of pain or resentment. Laurie just quirked a brow at me. He didn’t raise his mask, so I didn’t either.
The herald bowed before facing the room again, raising his chin to speak. I watched him gather air in his lungs, and when he let it out, the voice that came out of him seemed too big for his lean frame. “Lady Fortuna Sworn and Prince Laurelis Dondarte!” he boomed.
Faces swung in our direction.
It wasn’t quite as dramatic as the Unseelie Court, where every conversation seemed to halt when I entered the room, but the music crescendoed at the same moment we moved into the crowd. Courtiers viewed me with the usual variety of reactions, albeit there was far more admiration here. Judging from our opulent surroundings, these faeries collected beauty like dragons hoarded gold. If I wasn’t careful, Belanor might not be the only one in this Court who tried to claim me.
I gritted my teeth at the thought, silently daring any of them to try.
We were halfway through the room now, walking much slower than I would’ve liked. The reactions to Laurie made my eyebrows rise. Some openly stared, while others lowered their gazes and tried to glance at the prince subtly, discomfort shining in their eyes and twisting their mouths. I remembered the bitterness in Laurie’s voice when I’d asked him about the sacrifice. My dethroning was treated like an… embarrassment. Like I’d been fired from a job.
“Don’t let them get to you,” I said quietly, squeezing his arm.
“Of course not,” Laurie replied, waggling his fingers at the cluster of faeries standing near a pillar. They tittered. “I paid the musicians for some extra enthusiasm upon our arrival.”
I couldn’t decide whether to roll my eyes or laugh, then I remembered that we had an audience. My smile died and I returned my attention to the predators surrounding me. The faeries of the Seelie Court were more… polished than the ones I’d ruled over. Wealth was evident everywhere I looked. Gleaming at every female’s throat in the form of pearls and diamonds, hanging off male frames as flawlessly tailored suits, glittering above our heads as gold and crystal chandeliers. The Unseelie Court was a mishmash of fashions and status, but here such differences were carefully curated or completely hidden away.
At last, we reached the other end of the crowd and what I assumed to be Laurie’s throne. Or Belanor’s throne, if I hadn’t managed to kill him yesterday. It seemed telling that we hadn’t heard anything yet.
No one sat on it right now, not even Mab. The chair was, unsurprisingly, beautiful. It was high-backed and silver, with visages of a powerful horse forming each armrest. The cushions looked like supple white leather.
“Now what?” I asked under my breath, turning to face Laurie. Focus slid away from us as the next arrival was announced. The music became a light, playful melody again.
He bent his head and whispered in my ear, taking advantage of the murmuring crowd and nearby musicians. “Now we mingle for a bit. Make a point of being seen together before Belanor arrives and inevitably tries to entrap you. Sorcha is ready to make the switch, once we go through that doorway. Lensa will meet us at another rendezvous point with the vampire and the werewolf. That plan should already be in motion. The Royal Guard will be so focused on Sorcha in the ballroom they won’t notice a group of rowdy guests leaving through the front.”
I looked at the doorway Laurie’s eyes had indicated, frowning in thought. “Wait, what happens to Sorcha if Belanor does entrap her, or the ceasefire ends and the Guardians just arrest her?”
“Do you care?” he asked, making no effort to hide his curiosity.
“Only in the sense that I don’t want another life on my conscience. Beyond that? No. Not anymore.” I met Laurie’s gaze, holding it for a moment, steady in my certainty. Then I looked up again, unable to resist staring at those distant figures some more. Was that a unicorn? Were they real? Before I could ask Laurie, the herald began one more introduction.
I tore my gaze from the painted ceiling to see the newest arrival. I blinked when I realized I was looking at a human—her ears were rounded and there wasn’t a trace of power about her. Not supernatural power, at least. She drew as many eyes as I had, but her beauty was no illusion. Her hips swung sensually as she walked and her bare skin gleamed beneath the chandeliers, the tulle dress she wore almost transparent.
“She is Simone, the most famous pet in all of the Seelie Court,” Laurie whispered, noticing how I stared. “Had she stayed in the human world, there’s no doubt she would’ve gone on to become the most famous ballerina alive. As such, she dances for us, and she is beloved for it.”
Why didn’t she stay in the human world? The question was on the tip of my tongue, but I suspected I already knew the answer. Amongst the fae, most of the human stories were tragic ones. “Did you just call her a pet?” I asked finally.
“We do not have slaves, of course. The Seelie Court likes pretty things. Slaves, the black market, these things are not pretty. Thus, they are called servants or pets. It’s common knowledge that Simone belongs to Lord Arthion. He’d never actually marry her, of course, since most of our kind frown upon diluting the bloodlines.”
“Of course,” I echoed coolly. Lord Arthion was undoubtedly the male Simone had joined within the crowd. He looked like he was in his mid-forties, which meant he was an ancient fucker. Harder to kill. His blond hair was slicked back, and there were hints of gray at his temples. The rest of his broad frame was dressed in a suit much more subdued than Laurie’s. He gripped Simone’s waist possessively and pulled the human close, never once bothering to actually look at her or say a word.
“Pathetic,” I said with quiet vehemence. Suddenly I remembered why I’d hated faeries before marrying Collith.
Another human walked past, this one carrying a tray laden with intricate glasses. Laurie claimed two of them with a single, thoughtless movement. His attention was fixed on the arriving courtiers as he presented a glass to me, already drinking from his own. I looked for Gil amongst the other black-and-white-clad individuals in the room, but I didn’t spot that bleach blond hair anywhere. I held onto the stem of the glass as though I could be poisoned just by touching it. It took Laurie a few seconds to notice my hesitation.