Chapter 4 #2
Laughter echoes through the hall, but Jordan’s confidence doesn’t seem to falter for a second. He just grins and waves like he’s finished a royal performance, sauntering back to the group with the pride of someone who just announced he’s a manwhore to a room full of immortals.
“Gods, he’s unbearable,” Tessa mutters beside me.
Yes, and most likely will get himself killed trying to bone the wrong Fae.
Oliver is next.
“I’m Oliver,” he says, his voice so low you can smell fear radiating off him.
“Louder! What are you whispering about!?” some Fae in the audience heckles.
I think he’s about to shit himself.
Bless him.
“I’m Oliver,” he repeats, louder this time, voice trembling. “I used to be a teacher, but now I’m a gardener.” He clears his throat. “I promise to take care of your gardens—for a small fee.”
Oh.
That’s clever.
Secured himself a little hobby and some pocket money to enjoy the city later.
Shit, I don’t have a clue what to promise.
Next, it’s the nineteen-year-old’s turn—finally I’ll find out his name and stop calling him by his age.
“Name’s Leon,” he says, tucking both hands in his pockets, his tone bored like he can’t be bothered. “Just finished school. Nothing to do with my life. And promise not to touch alcohol while I’m here—it tastes like shit.”
Ah yes, a young adult who isn’t self-destructive enough to start liking the bitter taste of alcohol.
We all hated it the first time, but it didn’t stop any of us.
The crowd gasps like he just insulted their gods.
I’m willing to bet half of them will try and temp Leon with wine by the end of the night just to prove a point.
“My name is Tessa,” Tessa says with a polite, slightly forced smile, eyes darting nervously around the hall. “I’m twenty-two, and I’m a cook. I promise to try as much food here as I can.”
So soft. So na?ve.
Meanwhile, my mind is a damn void, failing to come up with even a half-decent promise.
The shy woman whose best friend is the floor steps forward, head finally lifting as she opens her mouth. “I’m Daisy. Thirty-five, and a librarian.”
Yeah.
No shit.
“My promise is to sort out every book I read alphabetically.”
Bloody hell.
Even a stupid one counts.
Come on, Cass. Just make up some bullshit and say it with confidence.
It’s only Lucas and I left. He glances at me as if asking who’s going first, but I shake my head—just give me another damn minute.
“Hi, I’m Lucas.”
There he goes, beginning his endless mission to save my ass.
“I’m twenty-three. Still studying to be a vet,” Lucas pauses. The Fae purr “Awww” like they’ll be queueing up to see the soon-to-be veterinarian with fake pets that probably just have allergies. “I promise … to win at least a trial whilst I’m here.”
Risky move.
But from the chants and cheers, it sounds like he’s just become the Fae’s favourite.
My heels somehow don’t betray me as I step forward.
“My name is Cassandra,” I say, swallowing my fear, ripping it apart in my head.
I want to be here.
I know why I’m here.
I breathe.
“I’m twenty-three, and I work at a coffee shop in town.” I blink.
I mean, I just quit, but who cares.
The weight of every Fae’s gaze settles on me, heavy like a stack of a thousand ancient books. I try to stand tall, reminding myself I have to survive amongst them for two months—if I’m lucky.
And there he is again.
The eclipse storm of a Fae.
I tilt my head, and I could swear the corners of his lips twitch up into a grin.
“My promise …” I pause, letting the silence stretch just long enough to drag out the suspense. My lips curve upwards slightly. “Is to have fun, and only punch those who deserve it.”
For a second, the entire hall holds still.
Then, a few Fae chuckle.
And the room erupts with laughter and thunderous applause.
I exhale.
Thank Gods.
That marks the beginning of the trials. Aurora steps forward again, beaming as she invites everyone to celebrate this joyous occasion (for them, at least). Food appearing out of nowhere—plates of the finest meat, glowing vegetables in impossible colours, and wine that refills itself.
It’s a feast fitting of royalty.
The worst thing is all of it tastes like a piece of heaven.
I catch a glimpse of Jordan roaming around, trying to mingle with the Fae, whilst Daisy just eats quietly, and Oliver is already negotiating a price for his gardening services with a Fae who looks like he’s never seen dirt before.
It seems some of us are already starting to lose sight of what we’re here for.
Good for me, I guess.
“I’m putting a bet on you winning.”
I turn and almost startle. A male Fae stands beside me, silver haired, his brown eyes glinting with something unreadable underneath his white mask.
“Pardon?”
“You seem to be the most ambitious of them all,” he says, grinning. “So, I’m putting a huge bet on you.”
I should’ve guessed there would be gambling.
Of course there is.
What a life they have up here.
Glamourous balls, grand feasts, gambling, drinking, tormenting humans, and probably a whole lot of fucking behind velvet curtains.
We’ve all heard the stories.
Fallen Fae banished from the stars—what else would they do to kill eternity?
“Well, you’re about to lose a whole lot of money.” I chuckle, clink my glass against his, and down the rest of my wine. “Disappointing people is my hobby.”
“You don’t even know what the trials are yet.”
“Results will be the same.”
Amusement flashes in his eyes, and for whatever reason, he extends a hand. “Name’s Gideon.”
“Cassandra,” I say, taking his hand. “Is this what you all do, Gideon? Party, gamble, drink?”
“Believe it or not, we all have jobs.”
I tilt my head, catching a glimpse of Lucas staring at us from the corner of my eye. “Why would Fae need jobs?”
“How do you think we run this Court?” He gestures broadly. “Magic alone doesn’t power all of this, you know.”
Well, obviously, I don’t.
“So, what do you do then?”
He straightens, pride flickering in his eyes. “I’m a warrior.”
That would mean there are others … other Fae Courts. Ones that might not be so friendly to this one.
Interesting.
“Is Aurora the Queen of the Court, then?”
Being a warrior means he serves someone. If there’s a chain of command, I need to know who sits at the top, so I know who to befriend … or who to fear.
Gideon chuckles softly. “You can say she’s a noble. But no, Aurora is not our Queen. She’s a High Fae.”
She sure looks the part and is important enough to command a room full of wings and fangs.
“There’s no Queen in this Court.” He arches a brow. “Not yet, anyway.”
I frown. “There’s a king, then?”
Gideon sips his wine. “There is,” he says. “But the bastard doesn’t give a damn about titles. Wouldn’t be King, High Lord, Prince—whatever the hell we tried to call him. Said we’re all outcasts here.”
I blink.
The way he talks about this king—or whatever he is—makes me think that they’re either best friends, or lifelong enemies.
“So why not give the crown to someone who wants it?”
“No one is half as powerful as him.” Gideon rolls his eyes, but a hint of admiration glints in them—definitely best friends, then.
“And no one dares. A lot of what you see here is running on his magic. Who wants to rule a court when one of your subjects could bring down a city because they felt like it?”
That’s … terrifying.
“Who is this Fae, then?”
“I heard he’s a prick,” a voice replies behind me.
I turn around to meet a golden eye and a shade of storm blue staring back at me, drenched in starlight and deep sea.
Gideon scoffs. “Agreed, but don’t say it too loud. His ego hears everything.”
“Yes, it’s huge,” the hot Fae adds, unfurling his gorgeous, dark wings with lines of constellations like a smug display.
What an interesting way to describe your King—boss—or whatever.
And, Gods—those wings.
Tessa lets out a scream before throwing a hand over her mouth. Daisy’s face drains of colour. Lucas mutters a sharp curse under his breath.
And I just stand there, stunned and utterly in awe.
Same as I was last night.
“Cassandra,” he says, folding his wings away, not giving a damn who he just unsettled. His eyes lower to the golden gown I’m wearing. He grins. “Now that’s a proper outfit.”
Thanks for reminding me I met you in a bloody bathrobe.
“It’s been two nights, and you still haven’t told me your name.”
That grin of his curves wider. “Wasn’t sure you cared.”
“Two nights?” Gideon crosses his arms. “Don’t tell me you collected her yourself?”
I raise an eyebrow.
Wasn’t that what happened with the others?
“Yes,” he replies simply. “And?”
Gideon just shakes his head, grabbing another glass of wine. “Whatever, mate.”
“Don’t mind him. He’s just cranky,” he whispers, offering me a hand, exactly like last night. “Kieran.”
Kieran.
I place my hand in his, and he lifts it to his lips, brushing a soft, gentle kiss across my skin.
Just for a breath. Just enough for me to feel my own heartbeat.
I blink, unsure if it’s the wine or him making my heart stutter.
“May I have this dance?” Kieran asks, nodding to the dance floor. Only then does my brain register the music that’s been playing for a while.
I don’t know what interest he’s taken in me. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to win, even if it means charming a few powerful Fae into liking me.
Worshipping me like Jordan worships Aurora.
So, I nod.
Kieran smiles, his fingers curling gently around mine as he leads me away from the others, towards the centre of the floor where shadows stretch and gold light spills like liquid.
I had a few lessons in school, but mostly I just jump around when I dance. Never once have I ever slow-danced like this before.
“May I?” Kieran asks as if noticing how nervous I am.
I nod again, and he places a hand on my waist. His other hand catches mine, gentle but certain, and we begin to move.
I’m stiff at first, unsure where to put either of my feet, but he guides me like he’s been doing this for a hundred years—which he probably has.
The music wraps around us, slow and angelic. Fae voices singing in a language I don’t understand.
I glance up, and he’s already looking at me.
“So …” I dare to speak, not knowing where this insane courage comes from. “Tell me, Kieran, do you always hit on human contestants?”
He lets out a soft laugh. “Only the pretty ones.”
Heat coils low in my stomach. Dangerous. Charming. Probably fatal.
“Why, thank you,” I say anyway. “Gideon was telling me about his role in the Court. What is your role?” Besides being hot and flirty.
“Oh, I’m an executioner.”
I tense in his arms. My steps falter. His grip doesn’t.
He grins. “In a way.”
Great. That makes me feel so much better.
And yet, I don’t pull away.
“The question is, why are you here, Cassandra?” Kieran tightens his grip, pulling me a little closer. I can feel the tight, hard muscles of his stomach beneath the sharp suit.
And I hate how I don’t feel the urge to push him away.
How I let myself forget Declan for a second.
I lick my suddenly dry lips. “You picked me.”
“Yes.” He leans in, his breath brushing my ear. “But you were practically begging for it—why?”
“Will you help me win the wish if I tell you?”
I can feel his wicked smile curl against my skin.
“There’re other ways to get a wish. Winning the trial is only one of them.”
I pull away, just enough to meet those impossible eyes. Whatever game he wants to play, whatever it is he wants from me …
I’m in.
Anything it takes to bring Declan back.
“Like what?”
“Like—” Kieran pauses mid-sentence, head snapping towards the arched doors.
A moment later, they slam open. A female Fae strides in, dragging Jordan behind her—half naked and grinning like an idiot.
Oh, Gods.
It’s barely been a night. What the fuck has he done?
Everyone parts as the female storms through, dragging Jordan behind her. She stops in front of Kieran and shoves him forward.
The prick stumbles.
“This one doesn’t understand that no means no.”
Kieran rips off his mask and rubs a hand over his face.
I clamp my lips shut.
Fucking idiot.
Don’t tell me he was trying to—shit.
“There’s always one.” Kieran shakes his head, turning to the female. “You okay?”
“Yes, but this piece of shit won’t be.”
Kieran’s gaze returns to Jordan, and something shifts behind those mismatched eyes. “What do you want me to do?” he asks, his tone sending chills down my spine.
He did say he was an executioner.
Above us, the starry ceiling darkens. Clouds roll in where there were none—and then lightning starts cracking.
Oh, this is not good.
“Just a warning is fine,” she says, crossing her arms.
“What are you talking about?” Jordan slurs, swaying as he tries to stand. “We were having fun, weren’t we?”
His breath reeks of alcohol. His eyes are barely open.
Kieran lifts a hand.
And Jordan lifts with it—his feet dangling above the floor, magic coiling around his throat like smoke.
He chokes.
I gasp.
Lightning flashes overhead, then a sickening sound—a wet snap, a sharp cry.
A crimson line blooms across Jordan’s left eye.
Blood spills.
Kieran took his eye in an instant, without so much as moving a step, without lifting a blade.
Every hair in my body rises.
“Next time, the cut goes on your neck,” he growls, low and furious, then releases the magic.
Jordan collapses, screaming, clutching his face, writhing in blood and agony.
An arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back—Lucas.
His eyes stay fixed on Kieran, wide, shaken, his mouth unable to utter a word.
Kieran flicks his fingers. A few Fae step forward without a word and drag Jordan out, leaving only the echoes of his cry behind.
Then, Kieran turns back to me.
“Sorry about the mess,” he says, eyeing the blood still on the floor. He flicks his fingers again—just like that, it’s gone. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
The ceiling calms again, the clouds fade, and lightning curls into smoke and vanishes.
And clear as the night sky, I know.
Kieran isn’t just some pretty Fae with power and charm.
He’s the King.
The one Gideon was talking about.