Chapter 8 #2
“And that’s Skylar, our High Archivist.” He points to the female Fae next to Felix. “She runs the library. All of our scribes report to her.”
I wish I had a pen and paper.
By lunch, I’ll inevitably have forgotten all their names.
“Then the last one is Virgil.” Kieran nods towards the dark-skinned Fae who hasn’t so much as glanced my way. There’s something eerie, haunting about him. “He’s our Night Blade Commander. In charge of our … well, non-Fae army.”
I freeze.
What kind of claws and fangs of an army do they have lurking in the dark?
“Usually, Atticus and Aurora will be here as well, but they have some business elsewhere today,” he explains. “Atticus works alongside Gideon, and you already know Aurora. She’s the High Curator of Ceremonies.”
That’s the fanciest title for possibly the most exquisite, yet annoying, Fae I’ve met thus far.
“And what is your title?” I can’t help but ask Kieran.
Kieran exhales loudly, whilst Gideon chuckles.
“Gods, not you, too.”
“Well.” I shrug. I don’t think it’s such an outrageous thing to be curious about. “I’m your assistant, but assistant to what?”
Kieran leans back in his chair as if this question personally pains him. In the decades—or centuries—that they have been here, I wonder how many have asked the same.
“Must you ruin the mystery?”
“You mean the egotism?”
Felix snorts. Octavia’s eyes are pinned on me, like I have just spat on her crown. Daphne’s lips twitch with a glimpse of amusement.
“You and your mouth.” Kieran clicks his tongue, his gaze dropping to my lips. The golden and storm-blue eyes flare faintly—and for a second there, I imagine what I could do to him with my mouth.
But only a second.
Because guilt strikes me down like lightning.
Kieran smirks, like he knows exactly what shameful thought just crossed my mind—like he’s thinking about it, too.
I narrow my eyes at him.
“I don’t need a title,” Kieran says at last, licking his lip as he turns away. “I built this Court. What more do you want?”
I blink. “So … King of Brooding it is.”
Gideon wheezes. “Oh, you picked the right one for the job, Kieran.”
“Yeah, well, got to pick the one that can handle you lot, too,” Kieran says, once again rolling his eyes like life itself is boring. “Now, do any of you have anything actually important to say, or can I go take a nap?”
“Hold on, how can we trust that she won’t discuss the Court’s matters with her friends?” Octavia cuts in.
I keep my mouth shut. Truth is, I have no idea how deep I’ll be dragged into whatever it is Kieran does all day—assuming he even includes me. For all I know, he’ll just hand me errands he can’t be bothered to run himself and leave me out of anything remotely important.
“I can’t believe you actually had to ask that,” Kieran murmurs, his eyes flicking to me. “I’ll handle her.”
I swallow, trying very hard not to think what “handle” might mean.
“Make her swear an oath,” Felix suggests. “And I’ll need to record that, of course.”
“Stars.” Kieran scoffs, shooting me a look that says: Do you see what I have to deal with? “I said I’ll handle it. Now, unless someone says something useful in the next five seconds, I’m leaving.”
“The newcomers are getting increasingly aggressive,” Gideon says first, glancing at me like I’m part of the cause of his headache. “Ever since—the contestants arrived.”
Newcomers?
And they’re upset … because of us?
I tilt my head. Gods, I really wish I had something to write with. Does being Kieran’s assistant mean I’m supposed to pay attention to what’s being said at these meetings and take notes, too?
“They know the rules,” Kieran replies. “If they don’t follow them, they can leave.”
“That’s a death sentence.” Daphne sighs, but Kieran just shrugs.
“I don’t know what you want me to do. If they want to kill humans, they’ll find a way—here, or in the human world.”
I tense, shifting in my seat.
I see now why Octavia thinks I’m a liability. I have no idea what half of what they are discussing means—who these newcomers are, what exactly the death sentence Daphne mentioned entails, or why the talk of killing is so casual.
This is all confidential information that will likely never leave this room.
And here I am, listening to all of it.
Whether I understand them or not, I now have an expensive front-row ticket to their secrets.
They continue discussing it for another fifteen minutes before moving on to the next topics: a scribe was assaulted somewhere in town, a shipment of illegal weapons—iron, no less—being smuggled in, a group of Fae demanding a raise, to name a few.
By the end of the meeting, one thing becomes painfully clear: even with magic, the Fae aren’t immune to corruption.
Like humans, they’re never satisfied with what they already have.
I don’t know if that fact makes them more human, or hell of a lot scarier than before.
After the meeting, I eat lunch in silence whilst Kieran sorts through a stack of documents that need his attention. I’m trying to digest more of the gruesome information from the meeting than my actual food.
“Can you bring this to Atticus when you’re done?” he asks from his desk, handing out an envelope.
“I have no idea what he looks like.”
And honestly, wouldn’t it be faster if he just vanished to wherever Atticus is?
“I know what you’re thinking.” Kieran arches a brow. “I’ve got other things to do. Besides, you could probably use a walk after that meeting. Just ask around—he’s probably at the sparring ring.”
“Okay.” I take the envelope. Not like I have a choice.
And a walk does sound nice.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he adds without any further explanation. “Feel free to do whatever you want in the meantime.”
I nod.
It’s probably something secretive—whatever he’s off to do.
Or maybe he’s just spending the afternoon with some Fae beauty in a sunlit garden somewhere.
I watch Kieran grab his coat. He steps closer and casually curls a strand of my dark hair around his fingers, grinning as he says, “Don’t miss me too much.”
I roll my eyes in response.
Kieran vanishes right before my eyes, sending loose papers fluttering into the air, his laugh echoing off the walls like a curse that will follow me into my dreams.
Bloody hell.
I gather the scattered papers and drop them back onto Kieran’s desk, tempting to peek through them, but after hours of listening to his Court dissect every problem under the stars, I decide against ruining my afternoon any further and instead set off on my task.
Finding Atticus is easier than finding the way from Kieran’s office to the sparring ring.
I don’t even have to ask, because Lucas is already there, mid-training with him, soaked in sweat and entirely shirtless. Even a few passing by Fae can’t resist biting their lips and silently tasting—and teasing—him with their gazes.
Has he always been this hot? Did I just never notice because he’s Declan’s friend?
I lift a hand in a lazy wave. Lucas nods back. Meanwhile, Atticus is deep in conversation—with Aurora.
She’s everywhere.
Here to flirt with Atticus, too, or with Lucas?
Ugh, I’d flirt with every living thing too, if I looked like that.
“Yes?” Aurora turns to speak to me like my very presence agitates her.
“I’m here to see Atticus,” I say, stepping closer.
Atticus tilts his head, his green eyes darting to mine. Only now do I realise how dangerously good looking both of Kieran’s High Commanders are—good lord. Look at those eyelashes.
I wonder if stunning an enemy with that face before striking is part of his tactics.
“How can I help?”
I hand him the envelope. “Kieran said to give this to you.”
Atticus takes it, opens the envelope, and spends a minute reading. He’s smiling when he’s done. “Thank you.”
Huh. Now I’m curious what’s in that letter.
Aurora, on the other hand, turns fully to me, arms crossed. “So, what did you do to get the job?”
I know exactly what she’s implying. It’s the same thing everyone’s been thinking.
“Nothing,” I say truthfully, not that I owe her an explanation. “I just told Kieran I couldn’t sign up for the job, and he gave it to me. I didn’t even know I’d be working with him.”
Aurora snorts, shaking her head like she can’t believe what she’s hearing.
It doesn’t matter whether she believes it or not.
“Really? Kieran did that?” Atticus asks.
“Yep.”
“Interesting.”
Yes, sure. I’m a human entertainer. A humiliation. An experiment. What else is new?
He doesn’t say anything else, and Aurora is still frozen in disbelief, so I just slip away quietly, the same way I arrived.
What a day.
I don’t really know where to go after this. I’m too mentally exhausted to wander the Court and risk giving anyone a fresh shot at me. So, I just retreat to my room—the only place left that resembles peace.
I don’t know how much time passes, but I wake up with a book still open beside me and the kind of hunger that could make me eat a unicorn.
Oh, great. It’s dark out.
I stretch, fix the curtains, try to smooth out my wrinkled clothes—then notice a piece of paper slid beneath the door.
It reads: “Die, slut.”
And so, it begins.
I’m a walking enemy of most of the contestants.
I pack both of my daggers before making my way to the dining hall—which is completely empty.
No food and not a soul to be found.
What time is it? Midnight?
Gods, I slept through my job?
I don’t even know when I last had a nap in the middle of the day like that.
What the hell do I do now?
I really hope Kieran is not mad at me.
“Oh, you’re finally awake.” A voice startles me from behind—again.
Talk of the devil.
“Kieran, I’m sorry. I don’t—”
“It’s fine,” he cuts in, his voice smooth and kind. I have to blink twice to make sure I’m not dreaming this. “Was the meeting so much that you had to retreat into dreamland?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I mean, it was stressful, but I haven’t been sleeping much since …” Declan died. I don’t complete the sentence. “You could’ve woken me.”
“I could have, but since it’s your first day, I thought I’d let you off the hook.” He grins.
I honestly don’t know what to say.
“So, do you think you can still handle the job?” Kieran asks, tucking both hands behind his back.
I think about it for a moment. Working with him, the weight that come with it.
The stare. The gossip.
Even if I want to back out, it’s too late now. Might as well just embrace the whole damn thing.
“Yes, I do.”
Those words crack a smile from him. “Good, because you passed the test.”
“The test?” I frown.
“Come on, Little Star.” Kieran says, amusement flickering in those storm-lit eyes. “I left you alone in my office, full of important things, and you didn’t so much as peek. You didn’t pry open Atticus’s letter. And you didn’t tell anyone about the meeting this morning.”
That was all a test?
But … “How did you know about any of that?”
He winks. “Magic, of course.”
How convenient.
“You see, one of the qualities you need as my assistant is the ability to shut up and keep my secrets—even from your own kind,” Kieran says, stepping a little closer. “If you hadn’t passed, I’d have had to let you go.”
Does that mean I’ve earned a little of his trust?
“Now, to make it official.” He holds out a hand, like the first night—like the other night he asked me to dance.
And I place mine in his.
Every damn time.
This time, magic ripples through us, cool and powerful. I feel a pressure on my wrist, like something is creeping up my arm, coiling around it.
But when Kieran lets go, there’s nothing on my skin.
And I know what it was.
An oath.
A promise that I won’t break this secrecy and will do my best as Kieran’s assistant—or something awful will happen.
There goes my chance of even telling Tessa.
“What was that?” I ask, glancing at my arm. The skin feels slightly warm, sensitive, like I’ve just gotten a tattoo.
“A promise, of course,” Kieran says cooly, taking my hand in his again.
Then, without a warning, he vanishes us both.
Disorientated and dying of hunger, I take a moment to realise where we are.
The Tower of Stars.
“Gods.” I clutch his hand, trying not to fall. “Did I not tell you to warn me?”
He laughs. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I sigh. “Why are we even here?”
“Because, Little Star.” Kieran gently tugs me towards the open window. The nickname is starting to grow on me a little. “You can only see it under the moonlight.”
Kieran rolls up his sleeve, holding out his arm.
And there it is.
A tattoo written in the stars.
Faint, shimmering, beautiful. Magic and promise entwined.
I slowly fold up my sleeve and do the same.
And there it is on mine.
Exactly the same.
A mirrored vow, painted in starlight.
I glance at the male next to me, heart skipping a beat for no reason at all. “I don’t remember signing up for a matching tattoo.”
“Yet, here we are.”
I lick my lips, trying hard not to smile.
This is wrong. So wrong.
Like a storm, Kieran struck me from out of nowhere.
It’s all for Declan, I remind myself.
Then, my damn stomach betrays me and groans like a war horn.
Kieran laughs.
I look up at him, pleading with my eyes. “You don’t think you can magically give me food, do you?”
“What do you think I am? A wizard?”
“A very hot Fae who will feed his assistant?”
Kieran narrows his eyes—then throws his head back and laughs. “Gods, here I thought I was the manipulative one. Fine—but I can’t promise it will taste decent. Pulling food out of thin air can be tricky.”
Now I’m the one smirking. “Then don’t forget seasoning.”
With a flick of his wrist, a table materialises—glowing candlelight, warm dishes, and enough food to distract even my twisted thoughts. And of course … salt and pepper.
Dinner for two, beneath the stars and moonlight.
“Did not ask for a date.” I cross my arms.
Kieran drops into his seat with a smug grin. “Well, then, try not to kiss me and you should be fine.”
I groan. Loudly.