Chapter 29
We retreat, the backstage area offering shelter from the probing eyes and insidious comments. Sassy’s cheeks are still burning, but the familiar faces of the band members act as a balm to the sting of the crowd’s words.
“Those vultures, eh?” Jasper, the bassist, quips with a wry grin. He launches into a story about an interview gone sideways in a city far less welcoming than this one. The laughter that follows is a lifeline thrown into turbulent waters.
“Remember that time in Prague?” Maeve adds, her eyes twinkling with mischief. The absurdity of that escapade draws a genuine laugh from our girl, the sound mingling with the others’ until the tension unravels.
Thank fuck for that. She was doing so well until the vultures picked at her.
“Hey, lass,” Revelin says, pulling her aside with a gentle tug on the elbow. His eyes search hers, concern etched into his brow. “Are you okay?”
I snort, arching a brow at the Prince. “Obviously not, dumbass. Your goddamn manager and her slavering idiots spent the whole time attacking her instead of talking about you lot.”
Fiadh sighs, leaning into him with a defeated expression. “Yeah, just... ready to be done with this place.”
“I second that,” Dezi mutters. “And renew my desire to find out exactly what the Fae bargain your father made with this woman is. If we have that information, we can nip this shit in the bud, princeling.”
“Only a few more hours left here,” he reassures our mate, pressing a quick, tender kiss to her forehead.
He looks at the vampire, his bodyguard, and me, our angry expressions making him rake his hand through his hair.
“I’ll see if my mother knows when we’re on the road.
I have to tread carefully, though, or she’ll meddle, and this will get so much worse. ”
A stagehand pops their head in, giving him the count for entry, and his entire demeanor changes again.
The shift is so startling that I can’t wait to see him on stage, despite all the nonsense that comes with it.
He’ll transform into the enigmatic frontman who captivates crowds and holds them in the palm of his hand we all see on social media, and it’s fucking fascinating.
Plus, I have a feeling it’ll get our girl hot and that’s way better than being down on herself.
The hum of the crowd swells into a fevered pitch as the opening act takes their final bow and the stage falls dark. Backstage, the air crackles with anticipation. I watch Revelin shrug off his leather jacket, rolling his shoulders back like he’s shedding an invisible weight.
“Showtime,” he murmurs, voice low and laced with that thrill of imminent conquest.
There’s a spark in his eyes, igniting the air in the small green room.
Gone is the man who brooded through the press conference, replaced by this powerhouse ready to claim the stage.
It’s mesmerizing how effortlessly he slips into the skin of a rock god—and I’m not the only one who notices.
Our girl is biting her lip and even the vampire is studying him with avid interest.
I fucking love this damn family thing and it’s weird as hell because I never considered this for a second before it happened.
Revelin leans down, his lips finding Sassy’s with a passion that belies the rushed atmosphere.
When he pulls away, his smile is a silent promise, eyes blazing with that intoxicating blend of love and fervor as he looks at her, then at the rest of us.
Once he’s satisfied, he turns, strides toward the stage.
From our shadowed perch in the wings, I marvel at the way he commands the arena, a puppeteer pulling on the heartstrings of every slobbering groupie and fan.
The lights flare, casting him in silhouettes and color as he belts out the first note, strong and raw.
The crowd roars its approval, and the energy zips through the air, palpable and electric.
I share a look with Fiadh, her flushing grin mirroring my own. Revelin is in his element, and despite the earlier turmoil, the excitement is hard to deny. As much as she wants to deny it, our mate wants to eat this brash, hip swaggering rock star up with a spoon.
“It’s okay to be turned on by someone with this much charis—” Dezi doesn’t have time to finish before the sound of the Prince’s voice gets our attention again.
“Fiadh, my closest friend, get out here!” Revelin’s voice cuts through the thunderous applause, and my heart stutters. On stage, under the spotlight’s glare, he’s extending a hand out to her, beckoning.
The moment Revelin’s voice slices through the roar of the crowd, calling Fiadh’s name, my heart skips a beat. I can’t believe he’s doing this. Not here, not now. As I watch her, frozen in place like a deer caught in the brightest headlights, I’m convinced Revelin has completely lost his mind.
What the fuck is this dipshit doing?
“Come on up here,” he coaxes, the crowd chanting my name in a frenzy.
She looks like her feet are cemented to the floor, face drained of color as she gapes at the Fae out in the spotlight.
“Go on,” Dezi mutters beside me, nudging Fiadh with a firm push.
She stumbles forward, her movements mechanical as if she’s walking through a dream—or a nightmare.
Jasper and Maeve flash her encouraging smiles, but they might as well be grinning at a ghost. Fiadh is barely there, her eyes wide, her skin paler than the spotlight washing over us.
“Easy, lass,” Revelin coaxes as she reaches him, his voice low enough that only those on stage can hear. The warmth in his tone doesn’t reach her, though; nothing does. He guides her to the grand piano perched center stage, an ebony beast under the dimming lights that seem to swallow them whole.
I watch, my stomach tightening, as Fiadh sits stiffly next to him, her hands clasped in her lap like she’s bracing for impact.
With the darkness enveloping them, it feels as if they’re the only two people in the world, and I can’t shake the feeling that we’re all teetering on the edge of something unfathomable.
Revelin’s fingers grace the ivory keys, and a melody curls into the air like a wisp of smoke, haunting and beautiful.
Fiadh sits rigidly by his side, her stillness betraying the turmoil I know is churning inside her.
My eyes narrow as the first words fall from Revelin’s lips, each syllable a velvet hammer nailing the truth into the open.
“Through shadows and whispers, she dances alone,” he croons, and I can’t help but hiss under my breath to Tiernan standing beside me.
“That idiot’s made her a target now,” I mutter.
Tiernan’s frown deepens, his gaze flickering between Fiadh and Revelin, then to the masses in the seats and on the lawn. “Hopefully, it’s just a song to them,” he says, though we both know better.
Dezi, on my other side, drops his head into his hands, his frustration tangible. I know he thinks young supes are reckless, and Revelin’s actions keep splintering our carefully laid plans.
He’s not wrong—the Prince is impetuous at best and unpredictable at worst.
The audience, however, remains oblivious to our silent discord, swept up in the ballad's rapture. Their enraptured ‘oohs and ahhs’ reverberate through the hall, a chorus of admiration for the spectacle before them. Even amidst my concern, there’s no denying the power in Revelin’s voice, the allure of his presence.
I steal a glance at Sassy, catching a subtle shift in her posture, a softening as she listens.
She’s nervous, yes, but also moved by the music, by Revelin’s audacity to bare such emotions in front of this massive crowd.
I’d bet her hidden hand is fondling the knife on her thigh, not his leg.
Stabbing him isn’t an option on stage, but she’s definitely thinking about it.
As the final chords die away, and Revelin’s voice fades into silence, the audience erupts.
The applause is thunderous, a tidal wave of adoration crashing over us.
Revelin stands, bowing gracefully, and Fiadh rises hesitantly beside him.
Their eyes meet for a fleeting moment, sharing something unsaid, something profound.
No mistaking that expression; we’re gonna have real problems tomorrow.
Fiadh turns and makes her way back to the wings, her steps more confident than when she went out.
That makes me happy, but what doesn’t is what else I see as I watch the scene.
From my vantage point, I spot Amethyst and Khorinea lurking in the shadows, their faces twisted in fury.
They emanate malice, their glare sharp enough to slice through steel.
It’s clear they’re not pleased with this unexpected turn of events, and I file this away—another piece in an increasingly dangerous puzzle.
“Watch them,” I whisper to Dezi, nodding subtly toward the malevolent duo. He nods, understanding flashing in his eyes.
Revelin joins us soon after he finishes a few more songs, using the short intermission to escape the echo of the crowd’s adulation.
Despite everything, despite the potential fallout, I can’t help but respect the raw nerve it took to do what he did.
But admiration doesn’t stifle the unease coiling in my gut.
That’s when everything goes haywire.
The euphoria of the crowd’s cheers shatters into a cacophony of terror.
I spin around, adrenaline surging, as screams pierce the charged air.
The stadium, once alight with excitement, now trembles with panic—people pushing, trampling over one another in blind fear.
We’re away from the fallout in our backstage privilege, but that’s a minor comfort.
Tiernan’s team and local security are already pushing through the mass of bodies, their authoritative shouts vying for control over the pandemonium.
It takes a long time—far too long with our mate gripping my arm as she watches the bodyguards dispersing the fans as quickly as they can.
Once they get control of it, the leopard meets our gaze, beckoning us to the spot where he’s grimacing at the ground.
We reach the epicenter of horror quickly, and I’m surprised by the gruesome scene that unfolds before us.
Five bodies lay strewn across the ground, torn apart, charred.
The smell of burnt flesh assaults my nostrils, and I cover my nose in disgust. Among them, four silhouettes I recognize despite the destruction—the underground fighters we saw.
How the fuck did they get these bodies here without being seen?
“Fucking hell,” Fiadh murmurs beside me, her voice full of bewilderment. “This is… What does this get them? I don’t fucking understand.”
I grasp her hand, needing the contact to anchor me. “I don’t know, either, but it’s not random and putting them here during the concert sure as fuck is a message.”
There’s movement at my side, and Revelin steps closer, his face a mask of shock. His usual aloof composure slips away as he stares at the devastation. “This... this is insane. Why the fighters? Why here?”
“Revelin,” I say sharply, pulling him back from the edge of the scene. “Keep it together and watch what you’re saying, man.” I jerk my head toward the remaining crowd, some still huddled in corners, others peering on with morbid curiosity.
“Right. Yes.” He straightens up, taking a deep breath and composing himself with visible effort.
Dezi joins our grim assembly, his gaze flitting between the dead and the living. “This seems to tell us not to worry about the council and their little corrupt schemes...” He trails off, shaking his head, frustration etched into every line of his face.
“Obviously, we’re up against more than just political games,” I finish for him, anger boiling beneath my skin. There's foul play at work, and it’s spreading its shadow over everything we know.
Tiernan gestures to the stage where the bus is waiting near a side exit. “We need to talk. And we need to plan.”
And get the hell out of this fucking town before anything else dead falls in our laps.