Chapter 15
Lucas has been ignoring me—like, actively ignoring me—during breakfast.
Eyes on his food. Speaks to everyone but me.
Last I checked, I was mad at him, not the other way around.
“Did you fall off the bed or something?” I ask, cracking a boiled egg with my spoon.
“No.”
No—?
And that’s it?
“Are you seriously angry with me for not listening to you?” I can’t believe this. He’d better be joking, because that’s just childish.
Lucas sets down his cutlery as his head snaps towards me, jaw clenched. “You want to know why I’m mad at you?”
“I literally just asked.”
“I saw him, Cass,” he bites out. “Last night. I saw Kieran coming out of your room.” His voice drops even lower. “Topless, I might add.”
Oh, my Gods.
This is what he’s upset about?
“Funny.” I scoff. “I seem to remember you saying you didn’t care what I did with him, so long as you didn’t have to hear about it.”
“That was before he killed Tessa.”
The words hit me like an arrow to the chest.
I should have known he would judge.
“He didn’t,” I whisper.
“He might as well have!” Lucas throws up his hands. All heads turn. He lowers his voice again. “Good Gods, Cassandra … how you don’t see Tessa’s face when you’re in bed with him is beyond me.”
Wow.
That’s low.
Lucas has taken it too far this time.
“So you’re just thinking what everyone is thinking.” I snort, shaking my head.
Sure, what I do with Kieran doesn’t really help my case.
But I never thought I’d hear something like that coming out of his mouth.
Well, good to know Kieran might be the only friend I have left.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to think.” he mutters. “I don’t even know what we’re here for anymore.”
“Well, maybe next time, you might want to ask before assuming.”
I don’t say anything else. Just stand, pick up my plate, and move to sit at the far end of the table.
No one wants to talk to me, anyway.
I’m a slut, self-destructive, delusional.
I eat in silence, barely looking up from my food, contemplating asking Daphne to ward the room against Lucas again.
I don’t want anyone talking to me like that in my safe space.
Then—as if the day hasn’t already punched me in the face—Kieran barges in, looking furious, like he’s just been stung by a hundred bees.
He’s draped in black, wings fluttering behind him. A portrait of power.
No one meets his eyes but me.
Then, with one hand on the table, another on his hip, he says, “You’re half an hour late, Miss Thorne.”
I almost choke.
“I’m sorry?”
Half an hour late?
But I don’t start for another—forty-five minutes?
Did I miss something?
And why the hell is he calling me Miss Thorne?
I narrow my eyes at him, sending a thousand question marks his way—but Kieran only arches an eyebrow.
“Well?” he snaps. “Are you going to move your ass, or do I need to take something from you first, like your pal Jordan, here?”
Pal?
What the actual fuck?
Is this the male who said he missed me, wanted to linger at my door, and kissed my forehead goodnight?
“Miss Thorne,” Kieran barks again—this time with the tone I’ve only heard a once, when he was furious at his own people. “Don’t make me say it again.”
I drop my knife.
It clatters against my plates—and finally, everything clicks.
I told him my friends—who now no longer exist—didn’t want me near him last night.
Oh.
My.
Gods.
Kieran.
I shoot to my feet, dropping my gaze and sprinting towards him—playing my part.
“I’m—” I clear my throat, forcing my voice to tremble. “I’m so sorry, Kieran. I lost track of time.”
“Yes, and you’ve also wasted my time,” he says, eyes locked on mine. “Don’t you dare do that again.”
I nod frantically, sniffling like I might actually cry.
Then I bolt out of the room, all but shaking, with Kieran grumbling something about me being irresponsible behind me.
We shut the doors behind us.
Silence.
Then Kieran’s whole face softens.
That dangerous smile returns.
His voice drops, gentle and sweet. “Sorry. I didn’t scare you, did I?”
I nearly burst out laughing. I slap a hand over my mouth, shaking my head.
“It was brilliant.”
Him acting like a scary boss, bullying me into work—just to stop people from whispering about us. Gods. “When did you even come up with that?”
“Last night, but I needed your reaction to be real, so I kept quiet.”
This time, I can’t hide the smile on my face, no matter how hard I try.
“You think they bought it?” I ask.
“Probably for a while.” He nods, grinning now. “Try not to look at me like that, and they won’t find out.”
I bite my lip. “Look at you like what?”
“Like you’re smitten.” Kieran hums, gently poking my nose before starting to walk. I hop after him.
“Please … if I’m smitten, then what are you?”
“Crazy,” he whispers, stopping mid-stride. I smack straight into his back. And his wings. Kieran laughs as he turns. “Crazy about you.”
“Oh, Gods, I’m going to be sick.” I actually burst out laughing.
He’s using lines on me now?
I’m never surviving this.
“Oh, shut up.” Kieran scoffs but once again holds out his hand.
I frown. “But … we never vanish to work.”
“Who says we’re going to work?”
I blink at him. “Where are we going, then?”
“For breakfast, of course.” Kieran sighs. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you barely touched the food on your plate.”
Kieran noticed.
When did we become like this?
It doesn’t matter, really.
Breakfast with him does sound wonderful.
We vanish to a part of the city that I’ve never been to before. The only thing I recognise is the mountain—though it looked much smaller from my window. Snow already coats its peak whilst dry leaves still scatter every inch of the ground below.
Nestled against its base is a small village, lined with shops and quiet cafés.
“What is this place?” I blink at Kieran.
“Asterhollow,” he says, a soft smile gracing his lips. “This is where I live.”
“Wait … you don’t live at the Court?”
“Please,” Kieran chuckles. “With all those noises? I associate that place with stress. It only takes me a few seconds to vanish here and back.”
Well, I suppose that’s true.
I glance around. “So … do you, like, have a house?”
Kieran tilts his head towards one of the houses built into the cliffside—clearly designed for someone with wings. From the outside it looks … normal. Warm colours. A bench on the porch.
So simple.
Not what I pictured for the King of the Fallen. I guess I expected something darker. Lonelier.
At least inside this cage, he found a home.
“Can I get a tour?”
Kieran smiles. “Yes, but after breakfast.” Then, he waves a hand in front of my face. I arch a brow. “Since we just put on a dramatic show, I figured it’d all be a waste if someone sees us having breakfast together—so I just glamoured you to look like a Fae.”
“Really?” I don’t feel a thing. I raise a hand to my face.
“Here.” Another flick of his fingers, and an object materialises in his hand—a mirror.
Holy shit.
The girl in my reflection looks like me, but she isn’t me.
She has my grey eyes—but they glow faintly, like they’ve been kissed by starlight the same way most Fae in this Court have.
My skin, usually pale but soft with human warmth, now shimmers like moonlit quartz.
Even my ears taper into elegant points, peeking out from my freshly dried hair that curls just a little more perfectly than mine ever does on its own, especially in this chilled autumn wind.
Beautiful. Ethereal.
I could challenge Aurora for the position of queen with the right gown.
Gods, I hate how much I like it.
“Now I know why you like flirting with me,” I murmur, still staring.
Kieran grins. “I barely changed much. You’re already beautiful.”
I look up from the mirror, biting my lip.
Barely twelve hours ago, he was on his knees for me. And now this.
“Are you okay, Kieran?”
“Why? Do you really believe anyone who finds you attractive must have lost their minds?” he drawls, tucking both hands in his pockets. “Give yourself a little more credit. Half the Court would have launched themselves at you if you didn’t work for me.”
I bite my lip harder now.
“They should. You need a little competition.”
Kieran scoffs, practically puffing himself up to look taller. “Not to brag, but I can turn them into frogs with a flick of my fingers—there’s no competition to begin with. Certainly not a close one.”
The moon save me.
“I need a giant cup of coffee to deal with this version of you.”
“I know you like it,” he says, smug, “so stop the bullshit and let me hold your hand.”
I massage my temples … then burst out laughing.
“You’re unbearable.” I’m wheezing now.
What have we turned each other into in the past few weeks?
“Sure.” He smirks. “You’ll bear me anyway.”
This is crazy.
So crazy.
Let me hold your hand.
Gods, it’s also kind of cute.
“It must be because you’re old,” I mutter, dragging out the game just a little longer.
Kieran frowns, arms crossed, tapping one boot against the ground like a warning that I should pick my next words wisely.
“When older people fall for someone, they don’t waste time; they just get married in a month. ”
“Sure, we can go back to the River of Vows and do that, too. I just think it might be a little awkward when your boyfriend comes back to life and you have to introduce him to your husband.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
I came here for Declan, but all I’m doing is betraying him.
“Will that make me a queen?” I ask softly.
Once again, I shove Declan aside.
“Considering I don’t even have a title, that would be difficult.”
I click my tongue. “Then no. No title. No ring. What’s the point?”
“First, you’ll only sleep with me to learn about the trials. And now you won’t marry me unless you get a title and, apparently, a giant rock.”
I find myself grinning from ear to ear. “You still want to hold my hand?”
Kieran groans, but he grabs my hand—and squeezes it gently.
Smiling feels like a sin.
But I’m going to hell anyway.