Chapter 6
Max
The servants deposit us into our rooms. With a wide bed, dark wood and thick blue fabric, the room is luxurious and extravagant. There’s more wealth in this one room than the entire Blackwoods Coven.
Shooing the servants away, I don’t allow them to unpack my items or help me bathe. As someone who grew up in a Coven that distrusted me, I’m not used to anyone wanting to assist me. I’m not starting now.
Bathing quickly, knowing Tay expects me to meet him soon, I forgo makeup and jewelry. Pinning my long strands up into a simple updo, I dress in a deep purple satin gown that trails on the ground, representing the Blackwoods Coven.
When Nafre took over as Matriarch, she had a large coronation, attended by the other Covens and had gowns made for me so I could be present. Only three, but they were tailored by the best coin could buy, in various purples, well above my station. The elders hated it.
I never wore them outside of that event, three years go, but here, they fit. Wearing the purple now, I look as if I belong. Something I’ve always wanted since I was a child.
A guard escorts me to the ballroom, stopping at Tay’s side.
He smiles easily, dressed in another purple dress shirt, copper waistcoat, and a pair of darker slacks, copper whorls lining his collar and cuffs. His long white dreads are pulled back with a leather strap, a copper ring poking through his nose.
He looks like a leader, someone people can aspire to be like. I’m proud to stand beside him.
After being announced, we enter the ballroom, my eyes widening with awe at the opulence even as my magic stretches. Heartbeats, thundering drums slip into my ears, a roar that hurts and my magic sizzles with hunger.
There are so many people that my power is reaching, begging for them, and it’s terrifying.
I can’t let my control slip—I shove more strength into my mental shields, breathing deeply and focus.
Various groups of people all converge on the entrance way. Most of them are male and Human, wearing different shades of blue to represent their connection to Griffin’s court.
From past experience, Tay directs me to the back of the room, away from the crowd so as not to tempt my power and I sigh, relieved.
A few people whisper behind us, piquing my interest. “Taylay of the Blackwoods Coven,” a female whispers. Tay’s shoulders tense and my nails dig into my palms to keep from turning. Hopefully, this isn’t the beginning of mass hysteria.
“I hear he’s second in command. Behind his sister.”
“A woman leads them?” A male scoffs. “Pity. Women aren’t meant to lead. That’s a man’s job.”
“No wonder the Covens are few and weak. Powerless. Like their rulers,” a second male says.
My blood boils at the insinuation.
Women are capable of so much more than these simple men could fathom.
“I don’t know,” the female cautions. I give up trying to hold still and look over my shoulder to three heads bent together.
My glare burns into their cheeks but they ignore me.
“They say Nafre is a strong ruler. She’s grown the Coven past what her mother did.
That her brother is powerful. A healer with a magical touch. ”
“Magical touch?” A dismissive snort. “That’s a myth. Magic doesn’t flow in our world.”
“They say hundreds of years ago, it once did,” the second male reminds him. “Remember the tales? Magic was plentiful. Species could control the elements, cast spells. Even heal.”
The male snorts. “If that’s the case, we have not seen an actual healer in—”
“Hundreds of years,” Tay cuts them off, his silver eyes narrowing on the gossiping group.
I smirk at his interruption. “My great-grandfather was said to be the last healer.” His body turns, his massive frame large like an unyielding boulder.
“Though it’s a myth, it is a rare power, to be sure.
And though I do not lead, I can heal.” He raises his large palm, dark fingers humming with magic as a light blue sheen hovers over his skin.
His power—his magic, it wafts into the air, cool and comforting like water.
Terrified and amazed, the people step away, unsure of this display. Magic is unheard of but to come face to face with it? It makes them nervous.
“So much for staying hidden,” he mutters, earning a quick snort from my lips. Grabbing his hand, I squeeze it once, a show of pride from words I can’t say.
The amazement isn’t enough to deter other conversations from breaking out, as the ballroom doors open once more.
A guard steps forward, announcing: “The Dark Fae Kingdom, represented by heir, Kaden Moorgate, and his siblings Lady Serafina and Lord Reid.”
Three figures step forward and the whispers top, silence reigning.
Kaden is in the center, his presence like the cold reach of death, silent and assessing.
His long black locks are knotted on top of his skull, his pale skin glinting against the flickering torches overhead.
Gone are his riding leathers, he now wears a suit of silk, a red cloth hanging over his shoulder like a faux cape.
Those bright eyes scan the crowd, lingering on me for a moment too long, and I shift, uncomfortable. Whatever he sees, causes his eyes to flash behind that cool mask and he grins. Charm and arrogance ooze from his pores, transforming him into a prince before my eyes.
A Fae of masks. He knows how to play to certain groups. He’s dangerous.
Serafina is tight to his side. She’s delicate and thin compared to his broad strength. Fiery locks are long and silken against her shoulders, the black gown thin, wispy like shadows, a trail along her feet.
There’s a dagger strapped to her waist, and it draws my eye. A female wearing a dagger at a ball is not a fashion statement—it means she doesn’t feel safe here.
I immediately regret not grabbing mine.
Glancing to her face, I can’t help but smile. Her brother grins, but Serafina glares, unhappy to be here. I can relate.
Reid brings up the rear, looking similar to the heir, but with dark brown locks and an easy grin. His outfit is tailored, but wrinkled, his top collar undone, with devil-may-care eyes. He looks completely at ease in this room, but there is a current among them.
All three are predators, let loose into the chicken coop, ready to devour us whole.
“The vampires,” a man hisses next to me, speaking to a shorter woman. Both wear blue—Humans, by the looks of it.
“Dark Fae,” she corrects him. “Vampires don’t exist.”
“All the same,” he mutters. “I hear they drink blood to stay alive. That their ruler is a wretched killer, who sits on his throne while his people starve. That his heir is a beast, rampaging the Human villages, that his daughter is an assassin. That his youngest isn’t even his! Why would Griffin bring them here?”
“They’re powerful,” his companion remarks. “We’ve been fighting for decades. When Griffin sent out the call, it went out to everyone. That includes them.”
The three figures glide past, standing at the far end of the room, away from the crowd gathered behind us. Tay’s eyes watch them move, hands fisting at his side but his face remains emotionless.
“We’d be better off to keep those half-breeds away from us and our king.” The man continues. The man only speaks when he thinks they can’t hear him. Coward. “Involving them can only spell trouble for us.”
As much as I don’t want to agree with the ignorant man, he has a point.
Involving Dark Fae brings nothing but trouble.