Chapter Seventeen
I spent the following few days being plucked, polished, and massaged within an inch of my life at not one but four of the city’s spas. The only one Ciara hadn’t seemed interested in visiting was the one at her family’s own hotel. Instead, we spent our days being pampered and our nights closing down Bourbon Street—something I hadn’t done in years.
I’d been more than happy to avoid the Avalon and my new roommate.
Some nights, Shaw and Roark joined us, but Lachlan never showed. I suspected he didn’t want to put a damper on Ciara’s final nights of freedom. But the light in his bedroom was always on when I dragged my aching feet down the hall to my own. More than one night, I lay awake and listened for his footsteps. Once or twice, I swore I heard them, but the door never opened.
By the end of the week, I knew he wasn’t just avoiding his sister. He was avoiding me.
The morning the other courts were expected to arrive, Ciara bounced between the Avalon and the Otherworld, dragging me with her until my legs were jelly from all the nipping. Understanding her frantic energy, I didn’t complain, but when she finally announced it was time to go upstairs and change, I nearly wept at the promise of solid ground beneath my feet for longer than ten minutes.
Two dresses had been prepared for the day’s events, laid out by the discreet household staff who kept the place neat and tidy while never showing their faces. I just hoped they weren’t wraiths. I assumed the gossamer ball gown was meant for this evening’s party and changed into the other dress. Its fitted style clung to my curves like an embrace, and the silky fabric—a green that was more vibrant than the ink-soaked jade I associated with the Nether Court—was soft on my skin. It dipped low enough to showcase a swell of décolletage, a single strap curling over my left shoulder like a tendril of ivy. It seemed impossible that something so lovely was also comfortable.
I didn’t want to risk stressing Ciara out by asking her to glamour me, so I pinned my hair back, taming my loose curls as best I could, and spent a few minutes applying mascara and lip gloss. A peek in the mirror confirmed I was presentable. It wasn’t quite as good as the glamour Ciara effortlessly applied in seconds most nights, but I wasn’t here to impress anyone. I wasn’t the one with an arranged marriage on the line.
Ciara was already waiting in the foyer. The bodice of her dark dress was covered in black silk roses that stood out against her pale skin. Its tight, ruched skirt tapered at the knees to show off her shapely calves and a pair of sky-high patent leather platform heels. Her long hair cascaded in a glossy curtain over her shoulders. She would definitely make an impression on the Infernal Court prince.
As I joined her, she sized me up with a sigh. “You should have asked me to glamour you.”
“That bad?” I touched my curls lightly, wondering if I should have put my hair all the way up.
“No!” She threw her arms around me, enveloping me in a cloud of rose-scented perfume. But unlike her usual bone-crushing hugs, this felt like she was clinging to a life preserver. “You’re beautiful. I just should have helped you get ready. I’ve been completely self-absorbed today. I’m sorry.”
“Maybe I should have been the one helping you get ready. I’m new to this friendship thing. It’s your big day,” I pointed out.
She looked a little green at the reminder, but she shook it off and grabbed my hands. “You are great at this friendship thing.” Warmth spread through me as we shared a smile. “How am I doing?”
I’d begun to realize that despite the money and cars and magic, in some ways her life was as isolated as mine. When we went dancing, it was with a security team or Roark and Shaw, not other fae. Even when she’d bought shots for the bar and danced on top of it with strangers—that’s what they remained. Strangers. Maybe it was because people visited New Orleans and left while she stayed, a problem likely exacerbated by living in a hotel. Maybe it was because she was a princess of the Nether Court.
But deep down, I knew it was because she came home every night to check on her older brother—the only person here more isolated than her. I suspected that’s how she’d sold herself on the betrothal to Bain. London would free her from that silent obligation to Lachlan that she shouldered and open new doors, even if it closed a few.
“I might move to London with you,” I warned her, wishing it was true. Like Ciara, I wasn’t eager to leave New Orleans when I had my brother to look out for.
“Don’t tease me.” Tears glinted in her eyes. She wiped them away. “But I know you can’t. Not with Lach…”
I hadn’t told her about his promise that he would break the bargain if I figured out his riddle. How could I when I knew part of the reason she was willing to strike out on her own was that she thought I would be here to keep her brother in line?
My mouth was dry, my tongue sticky and thick with emotions that threatened to ruin my mascara. “We better go.”
Ciara took a deep breath and nodded, but her shoulders shook slightly as we stepped into the elevator.
Every room at the Avalon had been reserved for the next three weeks to accommodate the other courts, each of which, I was told, was traveling with an extensive retinue. It seemed there was no trust between any of them, and the place would be full of armed guards and fae aristocracy. The Nether Court itself would host some of the events; others would take place in the Avalon’s private club and ballrooms, fae moving freely between worlds. Meanwhile, I’d been instructed to stay close to Ciara, Shaw, and Roark, who would see that I didn’t get stuck in either place.
I still hadn’t heard a word from Lachlan despite my room being only a few doors down from his.
The men were already waiting when we stepped off the elevator, along with a dozen security guards. I had no doubt more were on call nearby, tasked with surveilling every public space in both worlds in an effort to keep the peace. I’d been too confused during the Equinox to really take stock of their security measures. Now, my pulse skittered as we made our way to meet them in the lobby. Lachlan was closer to the door, his back to us, and if he heard our approach, he didn’t turn.
Shaw and Roark were dressed in their usual black with their collars buttoned tightly, tattoos static on their necks and knuckles. Shaw had slicked his copper hair back, making it look darker than normal, and Roark’s silver hair was swept hard to one side, showcasing a freshly shaved design on the other. He nodded hello, his tongue fiddling with his lip ring. Shaw, however, let out a low whistle when he saw us.
Ciara preened, but I just rolled my eyes.
“Finally. You two are late. They’ll be…” Lachlan trailed off as he finally turned. His eyes raked up my body, loitering shamelessly when they reached my hips, my breasts, my neck, like a winner assessing his prize. When his gaze at last found my own, the intensity stole my breath—straight up sucked the air from my lungs as if he’d won that, too, and would settle for nothing less than every piece of me.
Roark groaned. “Why do I suddenly feel like I need a cigarette and a nap?”
Lachlan ripped his eyes from mine, offering his penumbra the finger before strolling toward us. My focus dropped to the floor as I breathed deeply, but it wasn’t only my lungs on fire. Ciara elbowed me in the ribs, but I ignored her. So far, she hadn’t been nearly as obnoxious as Roark about teasing us about our bargain. Roark seemed to get a special thrill at poking Lachlan over it, but I wondered how long it would be until Shaw or Ciara caved and joined him.
“You both look lovely,” Lachlan said, the words as stiff as his rigid shoulders.
“I believe your instructions were dress to impress.” Ciara’s mouth puckered as she spoke. Her brother stared her down, and she forced a grim smile.
“It’s not a funeral,” he murmured more gently than I would have expected.
But she rested her head on my shoulder, refusing to look at him. “Tell that to my sex life.”
They were still ignoring each other when guests began to arrive. The Infernal Court was the first to show, each one from the royals to the courtiers to the guards looking like they had a very long, hard stick up their ass. All of them were inhumanly beautiful, more like statues meant for museums than living, breathing creatures.
I recognized the crown prince from the Equinox. Bain waited in the center of the group as his security took positions on either side. At his left, MacAlister sneered in our general direction. I had no idea if his nasty smile was directed at one of us in particular or all of us equally. A small ring of guards, some Infernal Court and some from ours, circled us as Bain strode over to shake Lachlan’s hand. He didn’t acknowledge anyone else.
In case we weren’t sure where we ranked.
Bain was the white-hot tip of the Infernal Court’s flame, and Lachlan was the deadly, untamed wild of the Nether Court’s dark. The princes of the shadow courts, though equal in standing, were so very different in every other way.
“Lachlan.” The prince bowed his icy head slightly.
“Bain,” Lachlan greeted him smoothly, not returning the gesture.
It seemed the pissing contests had begun.
Lachlan’s mouth lifted at the corner, and I realized I was fiddling with my pendant. But this time I didn’t drop my hand, letting him hear my thoughts. In this room full of fae, of strangers that I knew were as deadly as they came, he was my lifeline. Even if he is an insufferable prick, I added so his ego wouldn’t become dangerously overinflated.
Lachlan cleared his throat of what I thought might have been a laugh.
Bain’s smile bared a little too much of his teeth, and I wondered if this was just posturing between two fae males near the top of their food chain or if there was bad blood between them. If Lachlan thought his sister would be enough to resolve it.
“You’re the first court to arrive,” the Nether Prince drawled.
“Because we’re the most important guests.” Bain smiled at his own joke, glancing once at Ciara before his eyes flickered around the lobby. “Or, I am, at least.”
Lachlan simply stared back at him.
“Ciara,” Bain continued, something feral creeping into his eyes as he beheld his future bride. She inched closer to me, her hand slipping into mine. “I look forward to this evening, don’t you? One final hurrah before the first calling of the banns.”
She swallowed. “As do I.”
Bain’s gaze moved to where her hand clasped mine, and he frowned. “Don’t tell me that you’ve grown attached to a human.”
My mouth fell open, but before I could retort, Ciara glared. “I forgot how—”
“Not as much as I have,” Lachlan interjected smoothly.
Bain looked mollified. “I just wondered if I should be expecting her to join us in London.”
Ciara’s hand tightened on mine, but Lachlan shook his head. “Only when I’m there.” He nodded to his sister. “Ciara, will you show Bain and the others to their floor?”
Her chin raised, her smile a little too bright to be believed. “Please follow me.”
I started to join her, but Lachlan held up a hand. “You’ll forgive us for staying to greet the others. Tradition.”
“Tradition,” Bain echoed.
I shot Ciara an encouraging smile as she released me, my hand clammy from how hard she’d been holding it. She motioned for Bain and MacAlister to join her, and I fought the urge to go with her despite Lachlan’s words. I relaxed a little as two of our guards followed. There would come a time when she would be on her own at the Infernal Court, but this first night, I knew she needed the extra courage.
Shaw and Roark moved beside me. I doubted their slightly protective stance was a coincidence. It seemed I had inherited two bodyguards in Ciara’s absence.
“So, are they friends, or do they hate each other?” I whispered to Roark when Lachlan went to speak with one of his men. It was always impossible to tell where Lach was concerned.
“So you noticed.” He grinned down at me. “A little bit of both. Bain and Lach tolerate each other’s existence a little better than some of the other courts do. The Astral Court should be arriving from Prague shortly.”
I hung back when they did, asking more questions under my breath and wishing I’d done more to prepare.
Aurora, the Astral Court’s crown princess, was as beautiful as her name, her dark-brown skin offset by the deep amethyst shade of her column dress, which was the same color as her jewel-bright eyes. She spoke warmly to Lachlan, her hand touching his arm lightly every now and then. He actually returned her smile, leaning closer to speak with her in a low voice, and something twinged in my chest. I forced myself to look away, and my gaze collided with one of her companions. He grinned nervously at me. They looked enough alike that it was clear they were related, but he had none of the princess’s effortless confidence despite being her equal in beauty. Instead, he occasionally shuffled his feet and sent anxious looks in my direction. They had fewer guards than the Infernal Court but more courtiers. Something about that put me at ease.
“Who is that?” I murmured to my companions.
“Sirius,” Shaw answered this time. “Good guy. A bit young.”
Considering how old they were, I couldn’t imagine what young meant to them. He looked about my age, but for a fae, that could mean he was twenty-five years old or a hundred. Before I could ask more, the Hallow Court made their appearance.
It was immediately clear why Roark had mentioned heaven. While the guards who accompanied them ranged from burly to squat, the royals and the courtiers simply looked like angels. The two fae at the head of the group shared the same rich mahogany hair and deep amber eyes, and both had high cheekbones. The woman’s features, delicate and lovely, were complemented by the airy summer dress she wore, its long skirt dusting the ground. Her male counterpart was equally handsome with a wide, strong jawline and broad shoulders that strained under his gray suit jacket. They didn’t walk so much as float across the marble floor like their feet didn’t need to touch the ground.
“Oberon. Titania.” To them, Lachlan inclined his head.
“Twins,” Roark whispered.
It took effort to look away from them, but when I did, I frowned. The rest of their retinue hung back in two distinct lines: courtiers and guards.
“Where are their penumbras?”
“They don’t have them,” he explained. “Only the true firstborn would be granted one. It’s rumored their parents decided either might claim the throne. No one knows which was born first, so they still both claim the crowns, though everyone assumes it’s Oberon. They’re the oldest among us.”
Oberon was the one Ciara had referred to as “ancient,” but she had failed to mention his sister. My hands balled at my sides as she stepped forward to greet Lachlan with a kiss on each cheek.
“Titania.” Lachlan stepped away quickly.
She bit her lip a little as she grinned at him, the gesture so unabashedly coquettish I felt a stab of jealousy. “It’s definitely been too long, Lach.”
I hated the way she said his name. The familiarity that oozed off her tongue. Which was silly, since they’d probably known each other for centuries.
But how well did they know each other? Was she his type? Her bountiful curves and delicate features were a clear contrast to myself—and the way she held his attention so easily. I could never do that. I was so preoccupied that I didn’t notice Oberon looking at me.
“And who is this?” His voice was warm and rich, like liquid gold itself poured from his lips.
My mouth nearly fell open, and I barely managed to hold it closed.
“You mean my newest acquisition.” I bristled at the casual ownership in Lachlan’s voice as he stepped between us, breaking Oberon’s eye contact. “She is lovely, isn’t she?”
I twisted my ring around my finger, torn between not being rude and hating how he spoke of me like I wasn’t here.
Lachlan swiveled toward me, the grin on his face stretched as though he was forcing it. “Cate Holloway, allow me to introduce Oberon and Titania.”
I forced myself to stop gawking and speak. “It’s a pleasure.”
Despite Lachlan’s careful positioning between us, Oberon stepped smoothly around him and took my hand. He lifted it to his lips. “I hope we can get to know each other.”
There was absolutely no mistaking what he meant. A flush swept over my body at the implication. Maybe he looked at every woman like he wanted to worship her. Maybe that’s why his court was associated with heaven.
Lachlan’s hand found the small of my back, and the touch grounded me. I drew away from Oberon gently. He might be handsome and tempting, but like it or not, my nights belonged to the Nether Court. I waited for the sting of disappointment as I realized that, but it didn’t come. Instead, it took effort not to inch closer to Lachlan’s steady warmth.
Oberon’s smile faded slightly. “Will I see you at the feast tonight?”
“We will be there,” Lachlan answered tightly, his palm pressing down as if to pin me to the spot. He nodded to his penumbra. “Roark will show you to your floor.”
Before I could say goodbye, the hand on my back steered me toward the bank of elevators, remaining on me possessively as the doors slid open. Lachlan didn’t bother to wait for anyone else to join us, bypassing courtesy as though a swift retreat was necessary. After faking a smile for the last hour, I didn’t argue with him, especially given the weary set of his shoulders. Still, the compartment felt too small as it carried us to the top floor. His hand remained firmly in place, but his demeanor had changed from the possessive bravado he’d displayed in the lobby to something closer to nervousness.
He didn’t speak when the elevator deposited us on our floor, didn’t bother to look around to see if his sister had returned, didn’t even glance in my direction. Instead, he seized my hand and dragged me into his private wing.
And then the Nether Prince shut and locked the door behind us.