Chapter 14
The clock on the wall ticks mockingly, each second elongating into an eternity as I sit in the stuffy conference room.
The meeting with the PR people and the town officials drones on, stretching far past the allotted time.
I slump further into my chair, my fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on the polished oak table.
“Revelin, about the charity gala—” Amethyst begins, but I cut her off, my voice firm.
“My friends are non-negotiable. They’re coming to all public appearances. End of discussion.” The words leave my lips like a whip crack, echoing slightly in the tension-thick room. I’m growing tired of re-iterating it and the sheer cheek of the people here questioning me is getting under my skin.
What’s the point of being a Prince if people still feel like they can demand shit?
Amethyst’s eyes narrow for a fraction of a second before she schools her features into practiced neutrality. “Of course,” she says smoothly, but there’s a frostiness to her tone that wasn’t there before.
I study her, perplexed at the attitude I’m picking up.
She’s usually the epitome of composure, able to handle my whims and fancies with ease.
But now, there’s something different. She’s got a harsh edge to her usual calm demeanor that sets my nerves on edge.
Why is she acting so strangely about this?
It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve insisted on having my way.
“Prince Revelin, you need to be reasonable here,” one of the town leaders interjects, his attempt at diplomacy as thin as the hair clinging to his scalp.
He’s a half-elf, but his thin build and height come from the Fae side.
I’m sure he thinks he’s hot shit because he’s wealthy enough in Arrowwood to get elected to the Council, but that wouldn’t buy him shit in the Capital.
Yet another reason my father needs to fuck all the way off and let someone who gives a shit about our people lead, but that’s not the point today.
“Reasonable?” My laugh is more a snort of disbelief. “My ‘friends’ are the reason I’m even here; I could have postponed this tour for personal reasons and no one would have even blinked. If they’re not welcome, you can forget all the extra shit this week except the charities and concert.”
Amethyst’s lips press into a line so tight it’s almost invisible.
Her facade is cracking, anger seeping through like water through a dam about to burst. I lean back, arms crossed over my chest, watching the storm brew behind her eyes.
Usually, this is how she handles errant staff or weirdo fans, not me.
Something has crawled up her ass and died, but I have no fucking clue what it is.
“Fine,” she concedes after a moment that feels too long, her voice strained with unspoken irritation.
Amethyst has always been a pillar of support, her presence a constant that allowed me to be a free spirit. To feel this animosity rolling off her in waves confuses me. I’ve brought along hangers-on plenty of times; since when is it an issue?
“Good,” I say, my tone leaving no room for argument. “Then that’s settled.”
The tension doesn’t dissipate, though. It hangs in the air, a thick fog of unease that clings to every word as we wrap up the final details. Something’s off, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. I make a mental note to keep a close eye on Amethyst.
If this shit continues, maybe it’s time for a change.
For now, I push those thoughts aside. It’s time to shift focus to what truly matters: rejoining my new coven—people who need nothing from me but to simply be myself.
I scan the list of events, each more tedious than the last, laid out before me like a gauntlet I’m meant to run.
My gaze flicks up to Amethyst as I toss the fancy ball invite back onto the table. “Not happening,” I state flatly.
“Your father has already approved all these arrangements,” she counters, her tone sharper than I’ve ever heard it.
“Last I checked, I was of age.” I lean forward, locking eyes with her. “His approval doesn’t bind me.”
Amethyst’s lips thin, and for a moment, I see the flicker of something dark cross her face before she schools her expression. “I only want this tour to be a success,” she says, but the words feel hollow.
She’s never used my father as leverage before, either. Amethyst knows that’s a sure way to get me to dig my heels in.
Around us, the town leaders shift uncomfortably, their earlier boldness giving way to an awkward silence.
Their behavior is puzzling—too mouthy for small-towners addressing a prince.
It’s almost like they’re playing roles they don’t quite fit into, and I can’t help but study them, my mind whirring with suspicion.
As the discussion delves into the minutiae of venue capacities and security protocols, a yawn threatens to break free from my lips.
I stifle it, instead allowing my thoughts to drift to Fi and the guys.
There’s an unfamiliar longing in my chest—a desire for simple pleasures over the grandiose spectacle that used to enthrall me.
A chuckle escapes me at the irony, drawing curious glances from the room. “Just remembered a joke,” I lie smoothly, waving away their attention. But the laugh has soured in my throat as I catch sight of Amethyst’s glare. The sharpness in her eyes sets off alarm bells in my head.
I make a mental note: watch her, keep her close, but not too close. She’s supposed to be the bridge between me and these mundane affairs, not a warden or an overbearing spouse.
Speaking of spouses...
The grin that spreads across my face is impish as I picture Fi’s reaction when I call her our collective wife.
The image of her flustered face followed by the inevitable heated reconciliation sends a thrill down my spine.
At the same time, a spike of energy hits my aura, something familiar yet elusive brushing against my senses.
I shake it off, focusing intently on Amethyst as she drones on.
I can’t afford to miss a beat; one slip and she might commit me to some ludicrous obligation.
“Fine. I will attend the damn thing,” I cut her off before she can finish proposing another unwanted event. “But remember, I will be escorted by my friends and no one else. I’m not here to schmooze people, despite what you all seem to think.”
“Of course, Revelin,” she replies, a forced smile not reaching her eyes. When I glare, she clears her throat. “I mean, Prince Revelin.”
The meeting drags on, but finally, mercifully, it ends.
As I stand to leave, I let the mask of princely decorum slip slightly, anticipation for the evening ahead lighting a fire within me.
These meetings, these people—they’re nothing compared to the real treasures waiting for me at The Twig that cannot wait, I’m afraid.”
“Of course,” I agree, watching as she heads into the cafe with a huff. I have zero intention of meeting with her again today, but she doesn’t have to know that. Once I’m ensconced in the bus, I can make certain she can’t find us while we wind down from the day.
Just another reason I let my parents purchase the crazy thing when we first started touring—it’s full of fucking surprises.
As soon as she’s out of sight, I dart down an alleyway, taking a circuitous route that has me doubling back more than once. Only when I’m absolutely certain I’ve shaken any potential tail, do I head toward The Twig he’s used to giving the blows, not receiving.”
“Khol, maybe?” She smirks, but the warmth in her gaze tells a different story—one of shared secrets and the kind of bond that not even a prince can command. The snake wriggled in at the same time as me, but his lack of attachments helps him best me every time.
Plus, he’s easily as flexible about sex and pain and fun as I am, but much more bloodthirsty.
“Cheers to giving him the punches for a while,” I say, lifting an imaginary glass. “May the odds be ever in his favor with his balls.”
The basilisk in question finally reaches us, setting down the drinks with a knowing look. “You two done sparring?”
“Only because she agreed to save all the violence for you,” I reply with a smirk.
He tilts his head, shrugs, and licks one fang as it descends. “Okay by me. Now let’s get hammered.”
I can do that.