Chapter 31
The rich, iron tang of blood lingers on my tongue as I lean against the cool countertop, observing Revelin’s haphazard dance with the skillet.
His movements are jittery, a side effect of too much caffeine in his system, and his attempt at flipping bacon results in a greasy slapstick that would have made Tiernan cringe.
“Who taught you to handle breakfast like a clumsy teenager, Your Highness?” I chuckle, pushing off from the counter and moving closer. It’s clear this isn’t something he’s done by himself often or even ever, but it’s adorable that he’s trying so hard to do it well.
Damn these younglings and their ability to get me to give a shit.
“Hey, I’m channeling my inner culinary warrior here,” he retorts, gulping down another swig of a bubbling tonic that smells suspiciously like liquid lightning.
I gently nudge him, my hands covering his on the skillet. “Let me help you before you ruin it all.”
His cheeks color a shade that would make any rose envious, but instead of admitting defeat, he leans into me, an impish grin spreading across his face. “Careful, Dezi, or you’ll have to punish me for being such a bad boy.”
“Is that what you’re aiming for?” I raise an eyebrow, the corner of my mouth twitching upward.
“Maybe,” Revelin murmurs, his voice tinged with mischief and a hint of a desire for chaos.
Just as the eggs sizzle, Fiadh and Khol appear, their hair damp from the shower, draped in robes that cling to their forms. Khol’s typically stoic expression softens at the sight of our makeshift kitchen brigade.
“Looks like trouble found you first this time, Revelin.” Fiadh’s laughter fills the space, bright and teasing, as she eyes the mess he’s made.
“Trouble? I’d say this is more of an emergency,” Tiernan adds dryly, fully dressed and ready for whatever the day might throw at us. He surveys the scene with a practiced eye, no doubt cataloging every spilled liquid and splattered egg white.
“Ooh, count me in on the punishment committee,” Fiadh chimes, winking at the prince, who looks equal parts thrilled and terrified.
I could get behind that…
Their banter spirals, light and easy, the camaraderie that could easily unravel the focus needed for the tasks ahead.
I clear my throat, a sharp sound that cuts through the rising laughter. “Time to focus. We have a full day ahead, and breakfast is still a battlefield that needs conquering,” I say, bringing us back to the present with a firmness that brooks no argument.
Once they’re paying attention, I lean against the counter, wiping my hands on a dishtowel as the last of the sizzling fades from the skillet. The fragrant steam rises, mingling with the remnants of laughter and playful threats still hanging in the air.
“First, we discuss the plans,” I start, catching Revelin’s gaze as he pours himself another cup of coffee, His eyes, alight with the spark of mischief from our earlier antics, narrow slightly at the weight of responsibility I’m about to lay on him.
“Lay it on us, Big Fangy,” Khol smirks as he stuffs a huge bite into his mouth.
Everyone laughs, and I roll my eyes at Tiernan, who should help me corral them. He shrugs and I sigh heavily.
I will not murder my coven. I will not murder my coven…
“You have rehearsal,” I say firmly. “Your voice needs to be in top shape for the small amount of performance time they gave you. I think making them regret their poor decision to cut all your appearances and the school trip is a must.”
Revelin nods, the seriousness settling over his features like a mask he’s not entirely uncomfortable wearing.
It’s a sight that has become familiar over time, this transformation from our mischievous Fae mate to professional performer.
He understands the power of his craft, the delicate balance between entertainment and enchantment.
“Sir, yes, Sir,” he replies, his tone now devoid of the earlier levity. “I’ll run through the set list, focus on the new arrangements, and get Jasper and Maeve on point. Maybe I’ll even ass some new stuff no one’s heard yet to the mix.”
“Good.” I nod, satisfied. “We need them to wish they’d been less fucking asshole-ish from the second you walk on stage to help prevent the future dates on the tour from pulling this shit.”
That’s more for him than the rest of us… we all saw how crushed he was at not being able to visit the kids.
The room falls into a comfortable hush, everyone acknowledging the gravity of what lies ahead.
I turn to Tiernan, whose presence always commands a certain attention. His stature alone is a deterrent to trouble, but it’s his keen eye for detail that truly makes him invaluable. “Security arrangement for the venue is on you today.”
He nods once, sharply, his gaze already scanning out the window to the tour’s makeshift camp for potential threats.
=In Arrowwood, we could split off from the rest of the crew, but the idiots here put our bus with all the other vehicles.
“I’ll do a perimeter check. Make sure we’ve got eyes and ears on every angle.
” There’s an unwavering certainty in his tone that bolsters my confidence.
Tiernan isn’t just muscle; he’s got a keen eye for tactical approaches and he’s extremely through.
“Good man,” I say before sipping my blood again. “Keep us safe, but stay discreet. We don’t want to spook anyone.”
“Discretion is my middle name,” he replies, though the glint in his eye betrays his readiness for anything but subtlety should the need arise. With a last nod, he strides over to the sink, rinsing his dishes, then drops a kiss on our mate’s head before heading out.
My gaze then shifts to Khol, who has been quietly observing the exchange. “And you,” I continue, “keep your eyes on the prince and the band. They’re magnets for mischief and mayhem.”
Khol’s lips twitch into a smirk, the only hint of amusement at the understatement. “Consider them babysat,” he says, though everyone here knows that keeping watch over Revelin and the others is akin to herding cats—magical, unpredictable cats.
“Let’s not have a repeat of the brawl,” I remind him, an edge of sternness creeping into my voice.
The memory of chaos caused by a moment’s inattention still lingers uncomfortably close.
“We have very little pull here outside of the Prince’s castle connections, and you know the waspish Fae running the tour will let them dangle without a doubt if they get into trouble. ”
“Understood,” Khol responds, a more serious note taking hold. He rises, shoulders set with purpose, and I can see the silent vow in his stance—to protect, to observe, to be the calm in our storm.
“Thank you,” I murmur, watching the basilisk morph into a more serious version of himself in preparation.
“Witchling, we’ll need to be subtle when we look for the Henley mage,” I murmur as we stand by the intricately carved table that serves as our makeshift command center.
The map she heard about feels important and I’m uncertain why—vampire intuition is an odd thing.
“I know subtle isn’t your strong suit, but… ”
“Don’t be an ass. Subtle is my middle name,” Fiadh smirks, her emerald eyes dancing with mischief. She pushes her empty plate away, satisfied with the meal and eager to get moving. I watch her skeptically, but choose not to address that nonsense.
It’s too early for that verbal battle.
“Speaking of which,” Revelin pipes up, his fingers drumming a rhythm only he seems to hear. “Don’t forget, we’re meeting at Bloomin’ Dale’s at four.” He glances around at us, the urgency clear in his tone. “We still have to support the local artisans.”
I scowl slightly, though more out of concern for him than actual anger. “Those council rats deserve to pay for messing with you.” My voice is low but carries a sharp edge, protective instincts flaring like flames.
“Hey,” Khol chimes in, his usual stoic demeanor softening with camaraderie. “I’m all for making them squirm, but it wasn’t the townspeople who upset the apple cart. We shouldn’t punish them for their leaders’ mistakes.”
“Surprisingly egalitarian of you, Khol, but entirely correct,” Revelin concedes with a reluctant nod, his expression sobering for a moment. “I wouldn’t do such a thing.”
I feel a pang of something warm blossom within my chest as the prince and the snakelet rise to put their dishes up, each pressing a kiss to her forehead. The basilisk heads to the back to don clothes quickly, and once he’s back, they head out together.
“Looks like it’s just us now,” Fiadh teases, breaking the brief hush that envelops the room. “Don’t tell me you’re charged with babysitting me, old man.”
“Watch your tongue, young lady,” I mock-threaten, though there’s an unmistakable twinkle in my eye. “Brats get punished, remember?”
“Please,” she scoffs, tossing her wild mane of hair back with a laugh. “I’ve never been a brat. That would imply I get off on being extremely annoying.” Her words are bold, challenging, yet there’s a lightness to them that pulls genuine laughter from deep within me.
I’ve never thought of bratting that way, but she’s hit the nail on the head. They get off on being annoying little shits.
Shaking my head, I marvel at how this fiery sprite of a woman has turned my world on its head.
For centuries I’ve walked this earth, feeling nothing but the cool detachment of time’s passage.
But with Fiadh’s saucy spirit flickering beside me, I experience an unfamiliar sensation—happiness, pure and unbidden.
It’s a strange and delightful warmth that makes me want to hold on to this moment, to savor the simple joy of companionship.
“Come on,” I say, my voice softer than I intend. “Time to stir up some trouble of our own.”
She winks, mouthing her new favorite taunt at me, then hurries back to the bedroom to pull on clothes. When she comes out in yoga pants, one of Khol’s hoodies and a messy bun, I chuckle.