Chapter 21 #2
Not by the Court—I expected that. This was different. Focused. Intent.
My gaze swept the viewing boxes, searching for the source.
And found Tobias.
He stood in one of the lower boxes, surrounded by other advisors and courtiers. But his attention wasn't on the demonstration. It was on me.
Not the casual observation of a courtier noting the prince's companion. This was something else entirely: sharp, assessing, almost hungry.
Our eyes met across the distance, and his expression smoothed into practiced courtesy. He inclined his head in a shallow bow, the picture of respect.
But I'd seen his face before the mask fell. And Kieran had felt my spike of alarm.
“What is it?”
“Tobias. He's watching me.”
“He's been watching you since you arrived.” Kieran's mental voice was tight with barely suppressed fury. “I've been watching him watch you.”
The demonstration ended with thunderous applause. Servants moved through the crowd, refilling drinks, offering delicacies. The nobles mingled, forming alliances and breaking them with every conversation.
And through it all, Tobias’ attention felt like a weight pressing against my skull.
The next demonstration was magic—two Fae, spinning illusions that made the crowd gasp. Dragons made of light swooped through the air. Flowers bloomed and withered in seconds. Stars fell from an artificial sky and shattered into glittering dust.
It was beautiful. It was distracting.
And Tobias was moving closer.
I tracked him through the crowd, watched him navigate the social landscape with practiced ease. A word here, a smile there. He was working his way toward the royal box, casual enough that it wouldn't raise alarm.
But I knew. Somehow, I knew he was coming for me.
“Kieran.”
“I see him.” His hand found mine under the armrest, squeezing once. “Stay calm. Elias is right behind you. Nadia's in the shadows. He won't try anything here.”
“Then why do I feel like prey?”
He didn't have an answer for that.
The Fae finished their display, and the crowd erupted. Kieran rose, the movement drawing every eye in the courtyard. He was expected to speak, to thank the performers, to play his role.
"Magnificent," he said, his voice carrying with easy authority. "A demonstration worthy of the old legends."
The crowd murmured its agreement. Kieran smiled, charming and distant, every inch the prince they expected.
But through the bond, his tension ratcheted higher.
"The next demonstration will feature combat trials," he continued. "Our finest warriors testing their skills against worthy opponents."
More applause. The arena cleared, sand raked smooth again by servants in house colors.
And Tobias reached the steps to the royal box.
"Your Highness," he said, bowing low. "Might I have a moment?"
Kieran's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Of course, Tobias."
The old advisor climbed the steps with the ease of someone who'd done it a thousand times. His attention slid to me, lingered just long enough to be noticeable, then shifted back to Kieran.
"I wanted to commend you on the Exhibition thus far," Tobias said smoothly. "The displays have been exceptional."
"Thank you." Kieran's tone was polite but cool. "Was there something specific you needed?"
"Not at all. I simply wanted to pay my respects." His gaze shifted to me again, and this time, it stayed. "And to compliment your companion. The queen's jewels suit you, my lady."
I couldn't respond verbally, couldn't tell him to fuck off the way I wanted to. My hands stayed still on my lap, but I knew Kieran felt my revulsion like acid.
"They do," Kieran said, his voice carrying a warning. "My mother had excellent taste."
"Indeed, she did." Tobias’ smile didn't reach his eyes. "Such a tragedy, her passing. She would have been pleased to see them worn again."
The words were innocuous. The tone was perfect. But something in the way he looked at the diamonds, at my throat beneath them, made my skin crawl.
Kieran's fury burned white-hot. “He's done. I’m getting him away from you.”
But before Kieran could dismiss him, the horn blared again. The combat demonstration was beginning.
Two fighters entered the arena: a vampire and a shifter, both armed with practice weapons that would still hurt like hell. The crowd's attention shifted, drawn to the promise of violence.
Tobias bowed again, descending the steps. "Enjoy the demonstration, Your Highness."
He melted back into the crowd, but I could still feel his attention on me like a brand.
“Something's wrong,” I projected. “The way he looked at the necklace—”
“I know.” Kieran's hand found mine again. “After this demonstration, we're moving you somewhere more secure.”
“No.” My spine stiffened. “That's not the plan.”
“The plan just changed.”
“I came here to read the crowd, to find the threats.” My frustration bled through the bond. “If you lock me away every time something feels dangerous, what's the point of me being here at all?”
His jaw tightened, muscle jumping. “The point is keeping you alive.”
“The point,” I shot back, “is catching whoever's trying to kill you. And I can't do that from your chambers.”
I felt his war—the need to protect me versus the knowledge that I was right. That pulling me out now would waste the trap we'd set, would show our hand before we'd identified all the players.
“Stay close to me,” he finally conceded, though his grip on my hand tightened. “If anything—and I mean anything—feels wrong, you tell me immediately.”
“That was always the plan.”
“Merrit—"
“Together, remember?” I squeezed his hand back. “We face this together, or we don't face it at all.”
The combat trial began before he could argue further.
The fighters circled each other, weapons raised. The vampire struck first—a blur of motion that would have been too fast for mortal eyes to track. The shifter blocked, barely, and the crowd roared its approval.
They were good. Skilled. The kind of warriors who made demonstrations look like art.
But something felt off.
The vampire's strikes were getting closer to the viewing boxes. The shifter kept driving him back, pushing toward the royal box, toward us.
Elias shifted behind me, his hand going to his sword. Kieran's alarm spiked through me.
Then the vampire's blade caught the light wrong—not practice steel, but real, sharp, deadly.
“Kieran—”
The warning came too late.
The vampire lunged, not at the shifter, but at the royal box. His blade arced through the air, impossibly fast, aimed not at Kieran but at the space between us—at me.
Elias moved, pulling me back. The blade missed my throat by inches, but the momentum of Elias’ pull sent me stumbling forward instead of back.
Straight toward the railing.
My hip hit the carved wood, and for one horrible moment, I teetered on the edge. The diamonds at my throat swung forward, catching on something—a decorative finial, maybe, or the edge of a banner pole mounted to the railing.
The clasp gave way.
The weight of the queen's jewels slid forward.
Cold air hit my throat where diamonds had once been.
No—
I caught the choker before it fell, my other hand flying up to cover my throat. But it was too late. The scar had been visible for a heartbeat, maybe two.
Long enough.
The crowd's attention was on the arena, on the guards now subduing the vampire whose demonstration had "accidentally" gone wrong. Nobles shouted, scandalized, as the fighter was dragged away.
But one person wasn't watching the chaos.
Tobias stood at the base of the royal box, and his eyes were locked on my throat. On the hand I'd pressed there to hide what I'd spent a lifetime concealing.
His expression went through a series of changes too fast to catalog—shock flickering to something I couldn't name, before smoothing into careful neutrality.
I tried to push into his mind, desperate to know what he was thinking. But his thoughts were a wall of static, impenetrable as always. Except for flashes—fragments that made no sense:
A small room. Blood on wooden floors. A woman's scream cut short.
The images vanished as quickly as they'd come, leaving only the sick certainty that whatever Tobias was remembering, I was at the center of it.
His mouth moved, but I couldn't hear what he said over the chaos. Then he bowed—smooth, practiced, perfect—and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.
But the way he'd stared at my throat, at the scar I'd kept hidden for so long...
Kieran's alarm crashed into mine. “What did you see?”
“I don't know.” My hand trembled as I clutched the broken choker. “Fragments. Blood. Screaming. I couldn't piece it together.”
“But he recognized the scar.”
“Yes.” The certainty settled in my gut like lead. “He knows what it means. Even if I don't.”