Let Me Eat First
When I see Cannon’s name pop up on my phone as we prepare for breakfast, I hug the device to my chest. I’m going to owe him big time.
“I always knew, the entire time he was pranking his way through Carolina Beach, that your brother was capable of great things,” Starla muses, not giving up any details aloud that could get us in trouble.
I smile as I read his text.
Technically, we owe Malcolm.
The leopard seal shifter does indeed know of a means of transportation that can take us from a port on the east coast to wherever we need to go.
I just hope the guys are incredibly flexible when it comes to their mode of transportation.
While part of me can hardly fathom spending several more hours on the property, Starla is adamant.
“Grammy said the entire event.”
“Starla, he could surprise you with a wedding at breakfast, for all we know. What do we do then?”
I’m sure the guards are trying to listen in, but we have at least gone into the large bathroom, running the faucets to cover our low voices.
She scoffs.
“He’s capable, but he also won’t want a scene.
He finally has me almost where he wants me.
He won’t want to push me too far. He’ll be on his best behavior around me today.
Schmoozing, offering things, anything to get me to the end of this event still in a mood to marry Piers.
That also gives me the best chance to press him for information about the crest.”
“I would like to know how it’s all connected,” I admit.
“Exactly. I mean, it’s over his office, for tide’s sake.
My dad is either the most obtuse man alive—unlikely, given what a shrewd, micromanaging controller he is—or he’s well aware.
At best, he is connected to the supernatural responsible for Leon Stone.
At worst, he is the supernatural who gave Leon the idea.
Given how Grammy hedged, I’m guessing the latter. ”
Sparks dance over her fingertips, but she squeezes her hands and douses the shocks.
A dizzying combination of guilt and frustration churn in my gut, but there’s not much I can do. If her father is responsible, I cannot make him change his personality or his past actions.
It will just be a reality that I have to help Starla cope with, and support her through.
Less than a day.
“What’s the last event?”
“The elite’s version of a Christmas celebration.
My father’s staff will have spent the night magic-ing and decorating trees throughout the property, and adding fairy lights to make the gardens twinkle.
I guarantee we were left alone last night because they were all in the east garden ensuring it looked pristine—clearing out burnt bits and adding new things.
Everyone will spend the morning oohing and aahing over the outdoors while someone magics snow into existence.
They all sip on warm cocktails. It turns into a bit of a corporate mixer.
Deals being finalized over appetizers and scheduled to start in the new year. ”
Standard enough for this crowd so far.
“Then the luncheon. When dessert is served, my father will have someone use magic to darken the sky, at least above the manor, so the lights really shine. The guests will act like they haven’t seen this same song and dance before, and they’ll walk to their cars through a stunning display of ice sculptures, twinkle lights, and soft snowflakes. ”
We tug our dresses on and walk back into the bedroom, and I’m glad everything she’s saying could be overheard and understood simply as her filling in a guest on the agenda.
“Then,” Starla’s voice sharpens, and I can see we’re at our exit point, “you and I can come back up here to change. Only a few, very select individuals may remain at the manor. Including Piers, should he accept my affection. My father’s likely already informed him, and if things went well, he’ll be my date for breakfast. Relationships in our circles are not done without a contract to ensure the benefit of both parties. ”
I take her meaning. Her father may have threatened a magically binding marriage certificate, but it’s possible the document will appear before a ceremony is even scheduled.
We make our way to the door, and Starla purposefully cracks it so whoever’s outside can hear and report to the councilman what we say.
“And me?” I ask the witch, trying to sound hopeful but nervous.
“That’s entirely up to you. I told you I want you to stay. You can either choose a man my father generously introduced you to, if he’ll have you, or you can remain with me. As we discussed, it will all depend on your agreement to use your gifts for the good of my family.”
Even if the guards don’t know about the curse, Starla’s confident they’ve been instructed to keep her father informed, and this will further show that she’s doing what he’s hoped.
Keeping her friend here through force and, in doing so, managing a powerful siren asset.
We’ll have to be careful. We can’t afford to trip at the finish line.
There’s another thing I don’t mention to Starla just yet, with emotions raw and anyone able to overhear.
Grammy indicated there would be a chance for Starla to confront her dad.
The seer doesn’t miss. That means we’ll be coming face to face with the councilman again, even if we escape today without catching his notice, and I’d wager it won’t be pretty when we do.
When the time does come, I’ll make sure Starla isn’t forced to stand alone. The rest of us will be there at her side, for whatever she needs.
When we descend for breakfast, the councilman looks less than refined. He has circles under his eyes that he hasn’t bothered having someone magic away. The downturn of one side of his lips puts his displeasure on display for the room.
He may have secured his daughter, but he still doesn’t know who set his garden on fire.
Good. I hope he agonizes over the possibilities.
There’s a banquet table set up for food, and by the way others are swiveling their heads left and right, it’s apparent I’m not the only one to notice that there are some missing guests who should be staying at the manor.
“Some of this can be blamed on visitors who aren’t staying here. The day after a late ball at these types of things always sees some people skipping breakfast,” Starla whispers to me. “But it’s still sparse compared to the usual.”
She’s fidgeting with her silverware.
If he has fewer guests to entertain, that gives him more time to focus on Starla and Piers. You need to get her out of here.
Let it exist, let it flow. Let it exist, let it go.
The sausages. The fluffy scrambled eggs. The sharp orange juice. The bitter coffee. The crispy toast. Several things I can smell at the table.
I take a seat, mentally naming things I can taste as I center myself.
“Piers isn’t here yet,” Starla whispers.
Surely he didn’t say no? All these men let themselves be pushed into Starla’s path because they wanted something from the councilman, I’ve no doubt.
I take a bite of toast, but it’s like ash in my mouth. I miss Jackal. Just having him at my side would lift my mood considerably.
Feral makes his way into the dining hall after most of us have begun eating, yawning wide and stretching his arms. Even for breakfast, he’s in a full suit. But he’s far from the only one.
“Many thanks for the hospitality, Councilman.” He reaches out and thumps Starla’s dad on the back. I gasp, and the councilman glares like he could splinter the Founder with merely a look.
But he still responds, though through gritted teeth.
“A pleasure. How did you find your rooms? I hope last night’s events did not interfere with your sleep overly much.”
Feral smiles, ignoring how uncomfortable the councilman obviously is.
“Not at all. Huge spectacle, of course, but at least we can say it hasn’t been boring!
I’ll give you some time to figure out what happened, of course, before setting up our meeting.
Can’t very well work with someone whose security isn’t tight, but I do appreciate the generosity in including me, again. ”
A muscle twitches in Councilman Taylor’s neck.
“I do hope you don’t get dragged into the accusations. That would be most unfortunate.”
Feral smiles wider in the face of the obvious threat.
“Impossible. I showed up with nothing more than an overnight bag. A bit presumptuous, I’ll admit, but it did work out that way. Not to mention, I was near the center of the ballroom, dancing with an enchanting young elf, when everything occurred.”
Councilman Taylor makes a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat, keeping his eyes glued to the Founder’s back as Feral makes his way to the food.
At least his suspicions aren’t directed at us.
For his part, Feral looks utterly unbothered as he has a seat, plate piled high with breakfast fare.
I wish I felt the same, but I recognize Piers making his way over to the breakfast table, a satisfied smirk on his face. Also coming into the room are Claude and Lillian. And Arloc.
The councilman waves them down, greeting each personally and then gesturing in our direction.
I fear the day is about to take a bad turn.