29. Cardholders
Chapter 29
Cardholders
SONGBIRD
Z eke’s arms curl around my shoulders as the wedding rehearsal comes to an end, ushering me away from the Summer royal family and into his dark, smokey embrace.
“You look gorgeous, moth,” he whispers in my ear.
“My name is Elizabeth,” I grit through my teeth, the weight of his hand on my bare shoulder so bothersome that I have to concentrate hard not to shrug it off.
His eyes narrow at my obvious unease. “My father was pleased to hear you’re Willow’s kindred, so he decided to send me in his stead, since we’re engaged and all.” He offers me his arm. “Let me show you to our table.”
Our table.
The warning in his voice is thick. I glare at his outstretched arm but finally take it, knowing better than to make a scene in front of Thera.
I’m well aware that our engagement isn’t some creepy nightmare I made up, but it feels even more wretched and false than it did that first night in the labyrinth. My heart rebels louder and louder against the idea that I could ever vow to stand by this man’s side forever.
While we were cooped up in the chapel, guests began filtering into the ballroom—at least a hundred patrons clinking glasses in cheers and sampling the finest appetizers from trays floating gracefully around the room.
The grand Summer Court ballroom is poised to receive hundreds more tomorrow, only a select few apparently invited to attend the rehearsal. Zeke guides me straight past what I can only describe as a mountain of gifts to our table.
“Ezekiel, dear.” A bosomed woman dressed in the most outrageous dress I have ever seen fans herself as she makes her way to us. Her ebony skin glistens under the light of the chandeliers. “It’s a pity your father decided not to attend. I don’t mean to pry, only—he did seem a little worn down at the solstice celebration.”
“Your Majesty, this is Elizabeth Snow, my fiancée,” Zeke offers politely, smoothly bringing me into the conversation despite the rather abrupt way she accosted us.
Zeke might have many, many flaws, but he knows how to conduct himself at a royal dinner party.
I offer Freya Heart a quick curtsy, but she waves her fan in the space between us like she couldn’t be bothered to learn my inconsequential name.
“Your father is well, I hope? With Foghar just around the corner, it’s only natural for us to wonder,” she says.
“Very well indeed. He sent me in his stead because my gorgeous fiancée here is the bride’s kindred.”
Zeke’s hand rests on the small of my back, his shadows clogging my lungs. Just being this close to him irks me, the feel of his thumb running up and down my bare spine crawling under my skin.
Freya finally spares me a full glance. “Are you really? What an honor. I’m afraid I don’t recall meeting you before, Miss Snow, was it?”
“Elizabeth.”
“I’m Freya Heart, the Spring Queen.”
Queen Consort , I add in my head, but curtsy again all the same. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
“Now, I’d love to have a chat with you later, Ezekiel. I’d rather hope to speak to your father in person before the week is over.”
“And he’ll be honored by your visit, Your Majesty,” Zeke says, his gaze following Freya as she slips away, moving on to other guests, her figure blending into the crowd.
Our table seats six and is right next to the head table, which also has six seats.
Our names are written on little white folded cards, side by side, and the sight twists my stomach as the sprite of ceremony announces the arrival of the royal family. All eyes turn to the chapel entrance, and the queen enters, followed by her husband and the bride and groom.
Everyone takes their place and waits for them to sit first before taking their own seats.
Aidan and Elio sit with us in an alternating man-woman configuration: Zeke to my left, and Elio to my right. Though, I don’t know the woman sitting beside him.
“I met your grandmother,” I say quietly.
Elio’s eyes dim. “Mabel used to visit when my mother was alive, but she stopped after... Truth is, I was so young that I barely remember her.”
Ezra quickly abandons his seat to squeeze in between his brother and me, crouching down to speak to him. “Are you seeing this?” He downs Elio’s untouched glass of wine. “Looks like daddy dearest is about to get remarried.”
My gaze snaps to the woman sitting next to Ezra at the head table. Ezra’s mother is dead, so this woman must be the King of Light’s plus-one. She looks young and stunning, one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, with white-blonde hair and endless green eyes.
But then I spot the man beside her.
Ethan Lightbringer is as handsome as his two sons, but also dangerous. One look at him tells me that. The upturned corners of his eyes give him a feline flair, and his aristocratic bearing makes him seem like the kind of man who could both kiss your knuckles to charm you or break them to see you squirm.
I quickly avert my gaze, trying to avoid his notice as Ezra returns to his seat.
The rustling of fine fabrics and murmurs of polite conversation echo through the ballroom, while flutes of Feyfire wine are placed at every seat.
The Summer King takes his flute in hand and rises to his feet. He thanks the guests for their attendance, his voice smooth and commanding, filling the room with authority. Thera follows with a heartfelt address about young love and devotion, her words so genuine and full of warmth that, for a moment, I’m tempted to forget the reality of this wedding.
The warmth of her words lingers, but it’s quickly replaced by the cold formality of the evening as the long, seven-course dinner is served. The abundance of food feels almost incongruent with my current mood, and I can’t help but feel disconnected from the lavish spread before me.
“You brought a date?” I mouth quietly to Aidan when I’m confident Zeke is too busy eating to notice.
“Sorry,” he mouths back with a sheepish grimace.
Elio’s company isn’t enough to distract me from the way Aidan glowers at Zeke every chance he gets until it’s time to get up and dance, the stilted torture of dinner finally over. Elio asks his date to dance, and she gives him a timid smile, clearly enchanted by his offer.
Zeke’s hand rests on the small of my back as we stand on the edge of the dance floor, me praying that he won’t ask me to do the same, and him probably picking up on my silent wish. Ezra and Willow move to join us.
Ethan Lightbringer follows behind them, and the hope to avoid meeting him altogether quickly goes up in flames, his gaze riveted on me as he joins our circle.
“So, this is the moth that has everyone under her cold spell,” he enunciates slowly. His chilly tone has a powerful ring to it, yet it’s eerily quiet.
I offer the man a polite curtsy. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Majesty.”
“Yes. It would be.”
Again, so quiet, yet terrifying.
I dart my eyes up to him, and my knuckles turn white against the skirt of my dress.
Not unlike Ezra did during our first meeting, the King of Light undresses me with his eyes, but the moment feels anything but lighthearted. Ethan Lightbringer’s intense gaze leaves prints in its wake, each of them heavy and soiled, like his darkest desire is to play with me for a night and leave me trampled forever.
I’ve seen that look in a man’s eyes before, in the back alleys of Tundra, and my blood turns cold. I doubt I could blast the King of Light with ice strong enough to buy me freedom if he forced himself on me. Thanatos knows there are many, many empty hallways in this castle where no one could hear me scream for help.
I grip the skirt of my dress even tighter, trying to dispel the fear in my gut, but I can see it in his eyes. Dark as sin and bright as a promise. This man would hurt me, given the chance.
Zeke clears his throat. “Please excuse us, Your Majesty. I’m eager to dance with my beautiful fiancée.” With a firm hand wrapped around my shoulder, he guides me to the dance floor in time for a romantic waltz.
“Wh—”
“One dance won’t kill you. I had to get away from that man. He’s vicious.”
A sigh heaves out of my lungs. “For once, I agree with you.”
I hang onto him, unsure where to put my hands.
“You’re not a very good dancer, are you?” he cracks.
“This is my first ball.”
I practiced with Marjorie, but I was always the man.
It’s awkward to be standing so close to Zeke, but it’s nothing compared to the King of Light’s scrutiny. Or Aidan’s fiery stare following along with every step. I’m practically smoldering by the time the song ends, and my fiancé leads me back to our table, oblivious.
I catch a stranger smiling at us. “You two make a fine couple.”
She walks away before I can find enough air to respond, and a sudden bout of dizziness turns my head. “I need to sit,” I announce gravely.
Zeke holds out the chair for me in a perfectly rehearsed picture of gallantry. “There’s someone I want to have a quick chat with. I’ll be back in a minute.” He heads off toward the gardens.
Bile rises to my mouth.
Devi said everyone here was playing a part, and I’m no exception. I thought I could escape this marriage, but now I’m not so sure. I take a few swigs of wine to wash away the bitter taste of my own shame.
The Spring Queen sits not far from me, dancing with one gorgeous man after another, a line of high-born suitors gathered by the dance floor to admire her—and if Devi is right, to scheme for the chance to become the next Spring King. The flask Devi gave me is still tucked into my corset, and I pour it into my own drink, planning to swap the matching cups later as I wait for the right moment.
I take advantage of the start of a slow waltz, with Freya’s suitors all vying to be her partner, and slip behind the wall of men to switch the cups. Keeping a measured pace, I walk to the restroom and back after I’m done, careful not to linger near the scene of the crime.
On my return to the table, a teenage girl with limbs too long for her body and big hazelnut eyes accosts me. “You switched drinks with the Spring Queen.” She tilts her head to the side. “Why?”
Busted.
“I’m Rye. Who are you?” she demands. I scan the surroundings for her chaperone, but no one else seems to be within earshot.
“Beth.”
“Beth who?”
“Beth Snow.”
Her sharp, clever eyes sparkle. “You’re the moth who got into the academy. I’m only half-Fae, but I’d do anything to get in if they’d give me the chance to apply.” She sways from her heels to the balls of her feet a few times. “That’s against the rules for now, but they’ve bent the rules for you, so they might do it again, right?”
She adds the last part as though goading me to disagree, but she’s mostly right.
“Oh, absolutely. I’m sure the pure-blood nonsense is just another way to keep undesirables out, and the rules will bend the second a powerful king sires a half-Fae prince.”
Her eyes bulge at my language. “You’re fun, so I’ll keep your secret. For now.”
I swallow a sip of wine to dispel the nerves as Elio joins us.
“Hello, Rye. I see you’ve met my friend, Beth.”
“Yes, she’s nice.”
Elio raises his brows at the praise. “That’s a big compliment coming from her. What did you do?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Damian squeezes between Elio and me, looking even darker than usual. “I can’t believe you talked me into coming,” he grunts to Elio. “Only to abandon me to my fate for the longest dinner in the history of time.”
Elio takes a careful sip of cider. “Well, you can thank me later. Everyone needs to see you here, or they won’t believe you’re a true contender for the throne.”
“Ahem.” Rye clears her throat. “It’s rude to ignore a lady. Who are you?” She hands Damian her knuckles for him to kiss.
“Damian Sombra, and you are?” Damian answers with humor.
“Morrigan. Morrigan Quinn, Your Highness,” she does a quick curtsy, a bright flush rising to her cheeks, clearly enamoured with the tall, dark, and broody Fae.
“Damian’s not a prince, Rye. Not even close,” Elio corrects her.
“But I will be king,” Damian adds with a wink. “Someday.”
Rye smiles at his confidence. “Then I shall serve you faithfully.”
“You’re a Shadow seed?” Damian asks.
“Yes. I wield both blood and shadow magic, but the former is not a path open to mortals these days. I’m glad of it, if it means I get to have you as my king.” She rakes her eyes across his body.
Damian clears his throat in an awkward fashion, clearly unsure how to deal with the teenager’s brazenness. “Then we’ll meet again when you’re of age, I’m sure.”
Aidan’s hot hand lands on my shoulder, erasing everyone else from view. “A dance, fellow kindred? It’s customary for us to open the ball tomorrow. We should practice,” he says loudly enough for everyone in a ten feet radius to hear.
I can’t possibly. Not now, and not tomorrow.
But he made it so I couldn’t say no, and I give him a stiff nod, letting him guide me to the dance floor.
The pressure of his hand on the small of my back is a little heavier than necessary, as though he means to erase Zeke’s handprint there.
“I’ve missed you bitterly, Songbird. Especially tonight.”
“Brittany’s nice,” I say quickly, trying and failing to conceal my annoyance.
Aidan sets the pace of the slow, languorous dance, and the union of our hands shivers through me. “My father wouldn’t let me come by myself. I had to improvise.”
“You improvised a tall, buxom blonde, huh?”
The dance is easy and yet elegant, crushing us together then apart. 1, 2, 3, 4 step forward and pivot, 5, 6, 7, 8, step back and he gives chase. The story of our lives.
His gaze softens. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
My mouth hangs open at his guile. “I’m not jealous.”
“Yes, you are, but don’t be. Brittany is my cousin.”
I barely catch a bright smile from surfacing at the news, but my relief is short lived.
Aidan molds his body to mine, his congenial tone faltering, replaced by the hushed, intense tone of the man who made love to me for hours on end. He grips the curve of my hip. “I can’t stop thinking of you. Your skin… your lips… I’m a ghost without you. One night was never going to be enough.” He leans in way too close for it to be proper, his nose ghosting along the shell of my ear. “Did you get my letters?”
I draw back a few inches, missing a step, and my hand shakes along his shoulder blade. “I did.”
He squeezes my fingers. “Why didn’t you write back?”
“I know how this works, Aidan,” I reply, my voice tinged with more bitterness than I intended. “Soon, your turn will come, and you’ll marry the person your parents have chosen for you, just like Willow.”
“What’s going on? You haven’t held my gaze since you arrived.”
“We said one night. I don’t see why we would torture ourselves further with some fling when nothing can come of it.”
He presses his lips to my ear. “Don’t give me that. I’m not going to let you dismiss this, not after the night we had. It’s real between us, Beth.” He aces our fingers, and the motion tugs and tears at my wild, throbbing heart. “I love you.”
“Careful. People will see.”
“No one’s looking.”
I quickly scan the crowd. “Ezra’s looking.”
“Ezra already knows about us.”
The way he says “us,” like we’re actually an item, weakens my knees.
I cross Ethan’s gaze as the music stops and let go of Aidan’s hand with a start. “Thank you for the dance, Your Highness. I think that’s enough practice for one lifetime.” I offer him a quick curtsy to keep up appearances and slip into the crowd, trying—and failing—not to let the dark slant of his mouth wreck my soul.