Chapter Five
Only an hour into service, and I am going to dump this wine on Kassandra.
I pour her a glass, hand trembling, my shoulder sore.
Sweat trickles down my neck. Briar and I had prepped the dining room for company, laid the table for two, and brought up dozens of platters of vibrant fruits and vegetables and sliced boar and jam and pastries.
This, at least, is another benefit of the night shift.
More High Fae food to thieve for Unluckies.
Kassandra glowers at her untouched meal, sneaking looks at the main door. What has she even eaten today, if at all? We both know her breakfast ended in disaster, so shouldn’t she be ravenous? Especially with how much energy she’s wielding.
She siphons the plane in small strips, the energy resembling the wriggle of a heat wave.
She layers it across her shoulder blade, her wrist, her spine, storing power for some larger Illusion that, once complete, will release the magic to the plane once more.
If faeries can only send appeals along the plane, like a fallen branch down a river, then High Fae can build dams. We can follow the current of energy; they can redirect it.
Perhaps this is the true power of the High Fae: They save while we simply survive.
I top off her wineglass with an easy, medium-bodied red from the vineyards outside Remiti.
“Avery,” Kassandra says. “Imagine my surprise seeing your application to Night Crest service. I can’t imagine why.”
The glitter in her mercury gaze tells me she knows exactly the reason why. My vision blurs. Because you are a spoiled child who wanted revenge. Because you have saddled Jeremee with an impossible burden. And because no matter how much I abhor you, I still must serve you.
“Thank you for approving the switch, mistress,” I manage to say past the knot of anger.
Her nostrils flare. A delicate finger traces the rim of her wineglass. Briar returns the boar to the warming station set up against the wall.
I head to the serving table to grab another bottle. Is night service always like this? Wasteful and empty and depressing? No wonder Kassandra naps throughout the day and struggles in her lessons. More wine must run through her veins than blood.
I pop the cork from the new bottle.
The plane yanks in the direction opposite Kassandra’s. I waver, the blood oath burning. Briar finds my elbow and squeezes.
The dining room doors fly open, slamming against the walls. A silver-haired, towering High Fae male strolls into the room. A tight whirlwind of energy buzzes along the plane.
My mistress sighs. “You’re late.”
“You missed me.” His coal-black eyes seem to suck up all the candlelight. The resemblance is striking, and yet his sharp features make Kassandra look warm. A wolf, if I have ever seen one.
“I’m hungry,” she says. “Sit down so I can eat.”
The click of a tongue. “From the reports, you’ve been eating plenty.”
My ears prick up, throat tightening. My lies to the cooks are leaving evidence behind. But surely she can’t believe this male. Kassandra is small for a High Fae, physically frailer than both Briar and me. Yet no retort comes.
“Lord Dominik,” Briar says.
The wine decanter almost slips from my grasp.
Lord Dominik Morella—the heir of House Illusion.
Fierce strategist, enigmatic entertainer, and Kassandra’s older brother.
In all my years as a Day Crest, I have never collided with his notorious presence, only the rumors of violence and chaos he leaves behind.
“What can I serve you tonight?” Briar asks. “We have wild boar, mashed potatoes, apples, some lovely fresh bread—”
“All of it.”
My supervisor begins piling up his plate. Kassandra’s wineglass is once again empty. I contemplate cutting off her supply, but fae can handle more drink than faeries. A bottle for them is like a cup for me. So, I move toward her.
His stare blisters my skin, the air thinning. Both siblings are siphoning from the plane now, draining all the energy in the room.
“I’m parched,” he announces. “I’d like a taste of that wine.”
My cue. As I pivot to him, the hairs on my arms prickle with the slide of power in his direction, as if the floor itself is tilting. I must focus to stay on two feet. He may be the strongest High Fae I’ve encountered yet.
“I would like my glass filled first,” Kassandra says.
I pause.
Her brother laughs. “So this is a special plaything of yours?”
“I can’t possibly keep up with your multitude of delusions.”
“You refuse every halfling lady-in-waiting.”
“They’re incompetent and boring.”
“They’re proper company.”
“I’m impeccably thirsty. Avery?”
I choose her.
“And insolent. Faerie, come here.” The plane jerks toward Dominik’s end of the table, and I stumble.
“He is not your master.”
My eyes flick between the siblings as they glare at each other. The plane pulls taut like a string. Briar hovers on the other side of the table, throat bobbing.
For a moment, I wonder if the plane of magic can snap. I thought I was a rat to Kassandra’s feline, but I was wrong. In the presence of Dominik, my genius seems like nothing more than an insect.
The coin is good, but the price is high, Briar had said.
Finally, Dominik waves a hand, the plane sagging. “You will have the first pour, Kass.”
Across the table, Briar lets out a breath. Keeping my eyes downcast, I approach Kassandra. I don’t make it far.
Illusion magic surges in a rush of wind.
I am jerked and spun around by invisible hands, the decanter slipping from my grasp. My back slams into a wall, the breath pushed out of my lungs, my legs tangling. Only when a very strong, very real arm wraps around my waist do I understand. I am not against a wall; I am in Dominik’s lap.
Kassandra gapes at me—at us—from across the table. The decanter floats toward her, tipping to one side. Her glass fills.
“Did I not say you’d have the first pour?” the heir says. “Now drink.”
She glares.
A cool chuckle behind me, icy fingers twining through my hair. He inhales, and I swallow bile. Briar hovers a yard away, gripping a platter of pastries, face neutral.
“Are you afraid, little faerie?” he whispers.
Kassandra stands, her chair scraping in the silence. Dominik laughs again, a cruel, dead sound.
“Sit, Kass.”
But she does not sit. She grips the table’s edge, expression frozen. The air chafes in and out of my lungs.
“Is it scared or turned on?” he asks.
“Dominik,” my mistress warns.
“I think both.”
The metallic smell of fear leaks from my pores. He plays with my hair, exposing my neck, his thumb rubbing over a tendon.
“You’re disgusting,” she seethes. “Touching one of them.”
“I sense jealousy,” he sings. “But of me or her?”
“Dom!”
A mouth descends onto my throat. I cry out in shock, but a phantom hand holds me still. Slowly, he licks up my neck, incisors scraping against my throbbing pulse.
Kassandra leaps forward.
“Sit,” Dominik murmurs against my skin. A force shoves her back, the chair rocking. For a moment, no one moves. Not even Briar. Then my mistress takes a swig of wine. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes. I squeeze them shut, breathing.
“Good,” the heir says. “Now, tell me of your lessons with Eli.”
“They’re fine.”
“Elaborate.”
Something bites my ear.
I jerk, eyes flying open, but it’s not his mouth that did it.
The side of my face drips with sticky wine as every liquid in the room—water, alcohol, broth, cream—flies out of cups and bowls and hovers above the table.
They burst outward into tiny snowflakes of white, crimson, brown, and blue.
A dazzling display of colorful crystals glimmers across the entire room.
The snowflakes float back down into their respective dishware, the liquid in Dominik’s cup rising with each bloody drop. In a moment, the entire room falls back in order.
It was the most impressive display of root magic I have seen from Kassandra. My mistress dabs her napkin against her flushed cheek. “Elaborate enough for you?”
“No,” Dominik rumbles at my back.
“Did you not just see—”
“I saw that every snowflake was the same. You did not create a storm where each crystal is unique, as in nature. You came up with a simple design and then repeated it.”
“It was as powerful as one of my Illusions.”
“Then you clearly misunderstand our House magic,” he snaps. “An Illusion is the truth in another light. Our task is to change the light. This is why you cannot capture the king’s attention.”
Get up! I think, and yet I cannot move, the phantom hands holding me still.
She leans back in her chair. “He’s not the king yet.”
“Nor you the queen. You had one job as Heart of Illusion. One. The coronation is in two days, and you have yet to convince the male who will fuck anything to fuck you.”
For a moment, I am weightless. Airborne.
Then I crash into the hard floor. My ears ring, vision spinning. Someone shrieks. My blood oath feels like it’s burrowing deeper into my skin—a venomous parasite that will eat me from the inside out. I hear it then. The sound of choking.
Lifting my head, I stare in horror.
Dominik—the Heir of Illusion—thrashes in the air as something unseen strangles him. Energy swirls around Kassandra like a snowstorm, her trembling arm raised. His body slams against the far wall, legs kicking, neck straining. His hand grips the invisible force around his neck.
“You forget yourself,” he spits.
Then Dominik rips at the energy around him, prying the translucent grip from his throat. Kassandra cries out, grabbing her head. She collapses to the ground just as Dominik lands on two feet.
Briar yanks me up and away.
“Wait—”
“This is between the High Fae,” she whispers. “We are forbidden to interfere.”
As Dominik strides to his crumpled sibling, he swallows up all the energy in the room. The air fills with the sound of chimes, wind ripping at the curtains. Dishware rattles across the table before crashing against the tile.
The heir flips Kassandra onto her stomach, her cheek against the floor. Tears and snot slide down her face, fear sparking in her eyes.
Abuse is a well-known play to me, one I was forced as a child to watch my parents enact. No, I refuse now, as an adult, even if the actors are High Fae this time.
“Wait!” Wrestling from Briar’s grip, I lunge forward. The heir whips his head around like a snake about to strike. “Please, let me…get the dessert.”
Dominik blinks. “I have dessert in my hands right now.”
My stomach sours. “Well, I could—”
My head jerks to the side, my body dropping. I didn’t see the smack coming; it was done with an unseen hand. Blinking, cheek stinging, I stare at the silver-haired fae sprawled across the floor from me. A tear drips off her nose.
“Please,” she whispers. “Dom—”
Kassandra screams as both arms jerk behind her back, Dominik bending over her.
“You will master root magic like every other fae female and leave the Illusions to me.”
Another screech of pain as he contorts her arms, the sockets popping. Kassandra’s arms can’t take it anymore. I can’t take it anymore, refusing to watch. I crawl to her.
Another blinding slap, my head smacking against the floor. Stars burst behind my eyes.
Briar grabs my shoulders, hauling me up. Kassandra closes her eyes and my heart sinks. She has given up.
My genius reaches for the plane in a last attempt to stop this scene, but the plane is stretched too thin and tight by fae geniuses.
“Remember your place tomorrow,” he says.
Then the Heir of Illusion snaps my mistress’s arms in half, the bones breaking.
Kassandra wails. Dominik drops her to the ground, wiping his hands on his robe. She whimpers, sliding into unconsciousness. It’s a mercy.
Before we can reach her, he is in front of us.
“No Healers,” he says.
I gasp. “My lord—”
“You will be next if you do not be quiet!”
I clamp shut. Dominik smooths down his hair, adjusts his tunic.
“She heals quickly on her own, but dismiss the Day Crests anyway. Lock the door, as usual,” he says. “If you try to speak of what you have seen tonight, you will have to face the consequences of the blood oath.”
It takes everything in me, and Briar gripping my shoulders, not to lunge for his face and scratch out his eyes. Dominik steps beyond us, toward the front hall. Without looking back, he tosses something over his shoulder.
Two coins ping against the tile, rolling toward us.
“See you at the coronation, little faerie.”
The doors slam shut.
A coin circles at my feet, metal clinking until it falls flat. A silver medallion. More money than I have ever beheld in my entire life. The sight of it makes my skin slither.
Briar was right. The coin is good, but the price is high.