Lavinia
I’m pushing a stack of bracelets over my wrist when the loft elevator chimes. When the doors slide open, Kaz is standing in the entrance.
“Hey,” I give him an apologetic smile. “It’s taking a bit longer than planned but we should be ready to go in about ten minutes. If you need to go without us–”
“Sorry Duch–” he frowns. “Shit. You’re not the Duchess anymore. Should I call you Queen? Or…”
“You can call me, Lavinia, Kaz. Stop being a weirdo.”
He nods, but still looks uncomfortable. “Okay, anyway, we’re under strict orders to escort everyone to the gym. Since it’s Nick’s first time at a public event since the shooting, we want to make sure he gets there safely.” I nod, appreciating the fact they’re taking the attempt on Nick’s life seriously. Oakfield may be gone, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t others out there looking to finish the job. “But that’s not why I’m here.” He holds up a black envelope. “You got mail.”
I frown, taking it from him. “The postman?”
“Nope. Courier.”
I stare down at the script on the front. It’s addressed to King Simon Perilini & Queen Lavinia Lucia, then on the line below, Mr. Remington Maddox, and Mr. Nicholas Bruin. Flipping it over to the back I swallow when I see the symbol of a pentagram.
“What the fuck is this?” I mutter, but a sinking feeling in my gut is an indicator that I already know.
“No clue, but you have fun with whatever cobwebs and voodoo is in there.” He takes a step back into the waiting elevator. “I’ll be downstairs with the car when you’re ready.”
The door closes and I carry the envelope back into the living room.
“Sy,” I call out. “I need you to come see something.”
He steps out of the bedroom and I suck in a breath. He’s in tight black jeans leaving little to the imagination about what he’s packing down there, a black, untucked button-down, and a loose black leather jacket. Well, fuck me. Sy isn’t one to dress up, but when he puts a little effort in, it hits me like Kryptonite.
“They should be out in a minute,” he says, running his fingers through his dark, curly hair. “Assuming they can stop arguing over who gets the mirror.”
“Are they fighting again?” I ask, holding back a laugh.
“Their combined vanity knows no bounds.” He walks over and pulls me to him, his wide hand sliding down my backside to cup my butt. “Fuck you look good.” He inhales deeply. “Smell good, too.”
“You look pretty handsome yourself.” I run my hands over the sleeves of his jacket. “I love this jacket.”
“Remy picked it out. He’s been making me spend some of the money Saul left to,” he makes finger quotes, “look the part of a King.’ Which apparently involves jeans so tight they’re at risk of crushing my balls and vegan leather.”
“Please don’t crush your balls in the name of fashion.”
He grimaces and adjusts himself. “I’ll do my best. Now, what did you want to show me? And please don’t tell me Archie puked up the plant he won’t stop eating again, because I’ve already cleaned it up three times this week.”
“I moved the plant downstairs.” I work the envelope between us so he can see it, “This came for you–us.”
He frowns and takes the envelope from me. “Kaz cleared it?”
“Yeah. Said it was delivered by a courier.” I watch as he examines the outside, a frown developing when he sees the pentagram. “Is that what I think it is?”
He sighs. “I hope the fuck not, but I guess it’s time to find out.”
Just as he tears open the envelope, Remy and Nick stroll out of the bedroom. As good as Remy looks in his designer jeans and custom boots, my eyes are drawn to Nick. Not with what he’s wearing, but the simple fact he’s dressed and ready to go. Alive .
“What’s that?” Remy asked, probably sensing a disturbance in the room.
“Something from your father,” Sy says holding it out between two fingers. “Want to open it?”
Remy stares at it for a moment, then takes the rectangle from him. We all watch as he studies the front, then pulls out the card lodged inside. I can’t see what’s written, but it does look like more of the same fancy script. Definitely an invitation. His eyes ping over the words, hand thrusting into his hair. “He’s lost his goddamn mind,” he mumbles, pushing the envelope back to Sy.
“What does it say?” Nick asks, leaning against the armchair.
Sy clears his throat and starts reading, “You are cordially invited to bear witness to the eternal union of Baroness Arianette Gowen Hexley to The King of Barons on the evening of October thirty-first, at the House of Night.”
“Well, I guess it’s happening,” Remy says, shoving his hand into his pocket and pulling out his marker. “My father is actually going to marry the girl that was originally arranged for me.” He laughs darkly, “A girl, which I’ll remind everyone, is younger than all of us. If that doesn’t nail the dynamic between the Maddox men, I don’t know what does.”
“Does this mean she’ll be your stepmother?” Nick asks, snatching the invitation out of his brother’s hand, his blue eyes skimming over the words. “Wait, isn’t your dad still married to your mom? Is he a bigamist now?”
“The Baron’s covenants transcend legalities,” Remy says. “Marriages are… more like an oath than a piece of paper. An exchange. The Black Wedding is an event between two families. It’s about merging power. He stole that from my mother, locking her up where no one can get to her. I guess he found a new source now.”
“Then fuck him,” I say, hating the hurt I hear in his voice. “Let’s bail. We don’t have to go.”
“Oh, we’re going,” he declares, “not because I have to or to give my approval, but I’ll bear witness for my mom. I’ll make sure he sees my face while he’s walking down the aisle and betraying her.”
“Damn, Rem, that’s savage.” Nick says, scratching at the bandage on his neck. “Your father sucks. But we knew that.”
“Yeah,” Remy says, glancing over at me, “we did.”
I’m brought back to that night on the cliffs, when Maddox revealed himself as the Baron King to his son. When he told him how if he chose me over his father, everything would fall apart.
I guess this is what he was alluding to. Timothy Maddox has to take on the burden of this arrangement for his son.
“I’m okay with it,” I announce, walking over and wrapping my arms around his waist, “because it means you’re free. And it means your mine. And what goes on over in the crypt is none of our concern.”
And to be honest, I’m a little curious about the spectacle. Halloween night? And the dresses. Fuck, I think back to the equinox celebration last year. Regina was a badass, but no one knows anything about this girl Arianette, other than that she went missing and managed to escape.
My mind slips downstairs to the Morgue where I’ve been sorting Forsyth’s history. Maybe Arianette has the key to where girls like Laura and Stella are being kept.
And just maybe, our ties to the Baron King will allow us to get close to her.
I’m surprised I can feel the buzz of my phone over the roar of the crowd, but I pull it out of my pocket and read the message.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I say, easing out from under Remy’s arm.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“That was Maggie. Apparently there’s an emergency in the cutslut lounge.”
Sy frowns. “What kind of emergency?”
“The hair kind.” I roll my eyes. “It’ll just take a minute.”
I rise but as I pass Nick, his fingers curl in my belt loop and he drags me back. “Wanna grab me a beer while you’re down there?”
I lift an eyebrow. “You’re not drinking. We all agreed.”
“It’s the Fury! Everyone will think I’m a pussy if I don’t have at least one beer.”
There is not one person in the city limits of Forsyth that would ever call Nick Bruin a pussy. Especially now.
“There’s some homemade kombucha down in the kitchen,” Sy says. “ If you want to grab him a bottle.”
“Kombucha?” Nick’s nose wrinkles. “That’s bullshit.”
“It’s one percent alcohol and good for your gut-biome,” his brother retorts.
Remy and Nick both glare at Sy. The former says, “What happened to you, man?” while shaking his head.
“I’ll peel off the wrapper so everyone will just think it’s a beer.” I lean down and press a kiss on his neck. “Behave.”
After helping Kathleen detangle her hair from the curling brush, and grabbing the kombucha from the refrigerator, I fight my way through the crowd and back upstairs. At the landing, I spot Story’s cute little butt sticking out as she leans over the guardrail and assesses the crowd below.
“Hey.” I move next to her and look down. “It seems more crowded than usual, doesn’t it?”
“They’re definitely fired up about the fight, but that’s not the only reason people showed up,” she tells me. “They came to see him.”
She nods across the space to where Nick sits in the DKS King box, Remy and Sy at his side. The guys look casual. Pumped for the fight, but Story is right. Nick being here, walking in on his own, even with the bandage on his neck, is the real show. Being here tonight is about way more than curing some boredom. It’s proof of life. Of victory.
“How’s he doing?”
“It was touch and go for a minute, and he’s stubborn as fuck, but he’s going to be okay.” I look down at the bottle in my hand. Finally, I admit, “I’ve never been so fucking scared in my life.”
She looks over at me with those big eyes and says, “Oh, Lav,” before throwing her arms around my neck. She hugs me tight before releasing me. “I remember when Nick shot Killian– Ugly Nick,” she clarifies before glancing over to where her King sits across the balcony. His eyes have been on her the whole time we’ve been up here. “It changed everything for me. I realized I had to stop fighting so much and just accept who we were together.”
I laugh. “We’re DKS, I don’t know if any of us can ever stop fighting. It’s in our nature.”
“You don’t have to tell me, Duchess. I still have bruises from Screw Year’s Eve.”
I roll my eyes but we both laugh and it feels good–just letting go for a second. We split apart and I go back to my men, pressing the unwrapped brown bottle into my Duke’s hand.
“Thanks, Little Bird,” he says, pulling me into his lap. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I settle in against him, taking a quick moment to look over at Story, who is now sitting with her Lords, and I know one thing for certain. I’ll fight with, and for , Nick Bruin all the way to the end.