Chapter 8
“So, what are you going to do today?” Tessa asks me at breakfast the next morning, chewing her grapes like we’re on a holiday and not about to start killing each other in two weeks.
I haven’t told anyone I’ll be working for Kieran.
I know they’ll find out eventually, but I just want a few more minutes of peace before the others carve their bloody targets on my back, accusing me of sleeping with the King to get ahead of the game. Again.
“The same as you—working.” I leave it there.
“Oh, really?” A bright smile paints across her face. “Did Aurora change her mind?”
“Something like that.”
It seems most of us have landed a side gig somewhere. Tessa has to report to the head chef of the Court today. I’m pretty sure Oliver has about two gardens waiting for him to work his magic. Meanwhile, Daisy, as expected, is helping out in the library.
As for Lucas, he is currently on a training session with the High Commander Atticus. We only saw him briefly when we came down. By that time, Lucas had already finished his breakfast and was ready for the training—which was great, because he would have asked what my job was.
I’m not sure if Leon signed up for anything, but Oliver has been trying to convince him to be his right-hand man in this grand gardening project. As he’s the oldest among us, he probably feels it’s his responsibility to take care of the youngest.
And Jordan? I haven’t gotten a clue what he’s doing. But if he goes out every day from now on, it’s probably safe to assume he’s either visiting a brothel, or working at one.
“Good morning, lovelies.”
Ugh, is annoying us every morning part of Aurora’s job?
“I’d like to wish you all the best of luck with whatever it is you’re doing today,” she says with the sweetest tone.
I look down at my food and keep eating. “I would like to introduce you all to Laia. She’s part of the Trial Committee.
Her job is to make sure you’ve got everything you need and that all your questions are answered. ”
Jordan’s face turns pale, like he’s seen a ghost.
We all remember the Fae who dragged him across the hall to Kieran.
I hope she rigs the trials and makes sure he loses, since he tried to force himself on her the other night.
“Nice to meet you, Laia.” Tessa gives her a small, polite smile. Laia returns the gesture.
“When a person speaks,” Aurora says cooly, “it’s polite to stop eating and listen.”
It takes me a few seconds to register that the shot was aimed at me. I look up, putting my spoon down—and all eyes are on me.
Well, isn’t this just great?
“I’m listening.” I shrug. “You said Laia is here to assist us.”
And now she gives me a big smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Her tone is all sugar and challenge. “Have you found a job yet, Cassandra? There’re plenty of toilets waiting to be cleaned, if you’re still unsure.”
Wow, talk about double standards. She offered everyone a nice little job of their choice, but apparently, I should be grateful to clean their toilets.
Aurora really is this bitchy because of Kieran.
I tilt my head, keep my tone neutral. “It’s polite not to talk about toilets at the breakfast table, you know.”
A beat.
All eyes widen. A fork clinks against a plate. Tessa’s biting the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing.
And Aurora’s gaze could slice me in half.
But before she can drop her fake friendliness and launch herself at me like I know she’s been dying to since that night, the dining hall’s doors swing open.
Kieran walks in.
I can practically feel how every human in the room stops breathing.
“Crowded in here this morning,” he says casually, his gaze briefly dropping to Jordan, who immediately looks down.
“Kieran,” Aurora purrs, tone a drop of syrup. Her eyes gleam like a puppy handed a new toy. “Is there anything you need?”
“Yes.” He nods, his eyes flicking to mine.
Oh, no.
No, no, no.
I send him the most desperate look I can manage—don’t you dare.
It’s like he knows but decides that tormenting me is his idea of a perfect morning.
“You ready, Cassandra?” Kieran asks, grinning whilst I’m sweating through every single piece of clothing I’m wearing. Then he adds, “Don’t worry if you haven’t finished your breakfast. I’ll wait.”
I’m tempted to stab myself with the dagger I so carefully hid under my dress right about now.
Aurora looks at me, then glances back at Kieran.
I’m going to choke on my food.
I shoot to my feet, smoothing my dress with sweaty hands. “I’m ready,” I say, clearing my throat. “Let’s go.”
“You don’t even know where we’re going.”
“Does it matter? Just do your thing. Vanishing or whatever.”
Because I practically feel Aurora’s eyes burning into my back, not to mention the rest of the contestants’. Someone scoffs—probably Daisy. Someone else murmurs something.
Pretty sure I’m going to be the talk of the Court within an hour.
But Kieran is so calm and cool this morning. He places his hand on the small of my back and nudges me forward gently.
“No vanishing today. You’ve got to learn where things are in the Court.”
Of course.
Just when I wish I could disappear, he makes me walk.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I whisper under my breath, glancing at the tall, very handsome Fae beside me, wishing I could pinch his perfect face.
Kieran glances back, eyes flashing in delight. “Oh, yes.”
“You’re going to get me into trouble.”
“Why don’t you use your mouth to get out of it?” he mutters, quoting my own words from that night.
I groan quietly.
“Plus, you might want to behave,” he adds, all faux-innocent charm, “and speak to your boss nicely, hm?”
I blink at him. “You’re insufferable.”
He whistles, amused. “Yes, and you’ll suffer for it.”
I fear that has already started.
I don’t dare look back at the breakfast table. I just exhale and accept my inevitable fate. The slamming of the closing doors sounds like a snapping of whatever faint bond I had with the others.
They won’t believe it if I tell them I know nothing about the trials after this.
Whatever I win will be branded undeserving. They’ll shout that I sleep with the one controlling the games.
For a second, I consider taking it all back—not taking this job.
But realistically, who’s going to be left to criticise me at the end?
And I can’t exactly hear them if I’m dead.
“Where’re we going?” I ask, swallowing what’s left of my decent side of humanity.
“To the Council Hall,” Kieran says, leading me down the corridor. “Unfortunately, being my personal assistant comes with boring meetings you’ll have to attend. And more importantly, you’ll need to be introduced to everyone, so they’re made aware of your role.”
My stomach churns. Introduced to everyone? Fan-freaking-tastic. Public humiliation and death threats, all before noon.
“And you had to pick me up yourself?” I could have gone and died internally. Quietly.
“If I had told you come meet me at the Council Hall, would you have known where to go?”
Point taken.
I follow Kieran in silence, making notes and mapping every turn and hallway in my head.
The architecture is absolutely spectacular—impossibly tall arches, glided trim, and stained glass that catches the light like spellwork. Who was the architect? Was this all built on Kieran’s magic?
We eventually reach another set of tall, arched doors. They swing open without Kieran even lifting his fingers. Inside, half a dozen Fae, draped in silk and subtle elegance, are seated around a long dark wood table. The chair at the head of the table looks the same as every chair in the room.
No throne, no crown.
Yet all rise at his presence and bow.
Gods help me.
What the hell have I got myself into?
Kieran walks in and takes the seat at the top of the table. That’s when the others sit back down. I hold my breath, shrinking to two feet tall behind his chair, which looks more like a throne every passing second.
Help.
What do I do?
As if hearing my silent plea, Kieran waves a hand once, and a small, human-sized chair materialises beside him.
I immediately take the seat. The wood groans, like even it knows I don’t belong here.
“I trust you all know Cassandra,” he starts. All heads snap in my direction. I stiffen. “She’ll be my assistant.”
I brace for complaints, protest, my knuckles clenching under the table.
Nothing.
Mother of the stars.
They really don’t object to him. At all.
“Next?”
I can’t see his face from here, but I can practically hear the grin in his voice.
“Come on, now, Kieran,” the male Fae to his left says with a joking tone. “Are you really going to let the poor girl guess who we all are?”
It takes me a second to place him without his fancy mask from the first night—but that voice, the silver hair, brown eyes—
Gideon.
“Silly me.” Kieran exhales, shaking his head as he glances in my direction. “I think you know this fool—Gideon. He’s one of the High Commanders.”
I offer Gideon an awkward smile.
“That’s Daphne, our Sigil Master. She handles the wards, the Court’s glamour, and all those promises you people toss around like candy,” Kieran continues, tilting his head to the female Fae on Gideon’s left.
She’s got a head of inky curls and eyes so silver they look carved from ice.
“Next to Daphne is Octavia, the Court’s advisor. ”
His advisor is a woman—how modern.
Octavia just blinks at me, arms crossed, watching me sweat, as if trying to assess whether my suicidal mortal husk is a threat to their invisible throne.
“Then there’s Felix,” Kieran adds, tipping his head towards the next Fae down. “The Oath Recorder—the pain in everyone’s ass, since he insists on recording the hell out of everything.”
Felix scoffs. “One day, when I’m gone, it gives me peace to know just how hard it’ll be for you to replace me.”
Kieran rolls his eyes. “We’ve only got eternity to find the next idiot, brother.”
Kieran sure does have a signature way of running his Court and addressing his people.