Chapter 45
CHAPTER
FORTY-FIVE
Xavier
P rowling the grounds, keeping to the shadowy edges, is where I glean the information of scandals, of things coming in from the rest of Sabine.
The information from inside the ball is good, too. But right now every single person working it doesn’t have time to gossip apart from about the inconsequential things going on in there, of the scandals they see and know and who they like and dislike.
For instance, I know the Monarch is on the second floor, looking down. In part, to rule over the place, in part to watch in secret. And according to the chef who comes with Penrith’s estate, to keep out of his mistress’s way.
Bad blood?
Family feud?
Maybe both. It’s not a secret anymore that Penrith and Sophine are sisters, and it’s also not a secret how they seem to always avoid each other at social events like this.
That’s not why I’m here, though.
I want to find a way in, a weakness with the Monarch, so Nightshade can confront her.
Outside is best and not just because my cupcake’s appeared.
Something’s brewing.
One of our people, who came in with extra supplies an hour ago, told me parts of mid-town, near the smaller Council buildings, are alive with activity. Shit, maybe it’s just something normal or maybe not, but there’s also whispers of violence from Nightshade.
I’m part of Nightshade and we don’t do that. Yet, I don’t rule it out. I rule nothing out. But we’re not at the stage of violent revolution. I don’t want us to be. We’ve been trying to be peaceful, but there are some members tired of waiting.
If things go down in any way, it’ll be on a night like tonight.
And…I don’t know why, but my senses tingle.
Or maybe my unrest is because of Iris.
When those fuckwits grabbed her, I was about to rip their heads off when the world’s smallest paparazzo stepped in and shook them to their core.
Not with violence.
But the threat of exposure.
Firefly’s apt for the girl, who I’ve learned from talk around the party is Iris’s youngest sister. The kid can’t keep still. She dances and zooms, hair streaming, skirts hiked, and talking a mile a minute.
Through it all, I’ve kept an eye on news reports. On Stitches. But there’s nothing to bite into. Just a lot of buzz about Killian’s and his past.
He’s not going to like that part, but he knew the risk of this.
I keep an eye on the two girls as they stroll around the pond, and continue to send Iris messages through the mini.
You look pretty in the moonlight. Almost as pretty as you do naked.
Her face is bathed in the soft light of her mini and her lips curve. Fuck, Iris is more than pretty. She’s stunning.
Iris
I thought we were going to dance?
I laugh.
There’s all kind of dancing. This is dancing.
Iris
Is it?
“Iris, the QB says your dress is cool. And that…”
The kid rattles off all sorts of things, and she reminds me a little of Emmie. When Emmie gets excited about something, there’s no shutting her up, so the rhythm of what she has to say is more important than the words, and here, this kid’s happy she did something smart and brave to help her sister.
Iris
Dancing is like sex. It is sex. So is kissing.
I like the naked idea better.
I don’t even need to see it to know she’s fiercely blushing at that.
Did you enjoy your dance with Mr. Black?
Iris
Is he really Blackwater?
My phone lights up, too, and I glance at it. A raid just fucking happened two streets from the bar. It’s a brothel, but one that a lot of the rich go to.
That’s not normal.
Unease spreads, and I send a message to both Freya and Killian. It’s time to wrap this up.
That’s something to ask him about. Go inside, take your sister.
With that, I pocket the mini.
“OMG, Iris, QB says there are Council police in the Lower Side! And—” She stops as someone screams from the house, running down the hill to where Iris and her sister are.
It’s Mari, the blonde sister.
“There you are! Hell’s broken out! The Monarch left early!” Mari gasps out.
“Wait, what?” Iris’s is trying to calm her sister down, but she’s a bundle of panicked nerves. “What happened?”
Rue’s swiping through her phone, straining to find out what’s going on from the socials. “There’s a raid!”
“No, not that! Stephan is losing his mind! He called an ambulance,” Mari says. “Violet’s gone into labor.”
“But she’s only six months pregnant,” Iris says as the sisters all start running back to the ball.