Chapter 40
The first rays of dawn are barely kissing the skyline when our magical bus putters into the clandestine underbelly of Amber Hollow.
The city, a sprawling canvas of golds and ambers that seem to mock the very concept of modesty, welcomes us with open arms—so long as those arms are lined with velvet and jewels.
I suddenly feel like some crazily dressed chick is going to say, ‘May the odds be ever in your favor’ when we get out.
“Move your sweet ass,” Khol grunts, not one for morning pleasantries, as he hoists our luggage onto the cobblestone.
We shuffle out, half-dazed from the journey, straight into the clutches of opulence.
The hotel looms like a titan of indulgence, its doors parting to swallow us whole.
Before I can scoff at the gilded columns flanking the entrance, we’re whisked away to the penthouse floor by a flurry of staff members whose clips gleam with runes more complex than any security system back home.
“Subtle,” I mutter under my breath, but my sarcasm is lost in the grandeur of the suite we step into. It’s as if someone vomited wealth and excess over every inch—a prince’s playground.
“Would you look at that chandelier?” I snark, nodding toward the monstrosity of crystals dangling from the ceiling like an overgrown stalactite. “Bet that could feed a small village for a year.”
Khol’s response is a nonchalant shrug as he drops our bags with a thud loud enough to scare off any lurking pretense of humility. Tiernan follows suit but sends me a quick, sheepish glance, as if apologizing for the obscene luxury. Dezi just arches an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by the pomp.
“Isn’t it just... criminal?” I continue, but my rant is cut short when Revelin’s hands find mine, his fingers warm and grounding.
“Lass, your egalitarian spirit is truly refreshing,” he says with that earnest twinkle in his eye, the one that always threatens to derail my indignation.
He pulls me forward, tipping the staff with a generosity that makes my inner rebel want to start a riot—except it’s done with such care that I can’t help but soften.
“It leaves me wondering when you’ll lop off my noggin every time I fall asleep. ”
I roll my eyes at him as he pulls me into the room further. “Only you would continue sleeping with someone you think might Marie Antoinette you one day.”
“Shhh, enough about my kinks. You have so much capitalist excess to bitch about as we tour this place,” he urges, laughter dancing in his voice. I stomp on his foot, pleased when he yelps, and the other guys snicker.
Khol gives the prince a rueful look. “Never interrupt her dissection of the wealthy one percent, man. It’s dangerous.”
Ignoring them, I poke my head into the kitchen, all gleaming surfaces and gadgets that probably do everything but taste the food for you. “How many peasants do you reckon it took to hand-carve this nonsense?” I mutter under my breath.
“Is that a question like how many lawyers does it take to screw in a light bulb?” Tiernan whispers, though his eyes glint with shared amusement. He opens cabinets, making a show of rearranging some crystal glasses.
Dezi saunters toward the balcony doors, sliding them open with a flourish. The morning light spills over an infinity pool that seems to drop right off into the sky, the hot tub bubbling quietly beside it like a promise of hedonism. I step out, feeling the rush of vertigo as I peer over the edge.
“Fucking rich people,” I mutter as I take in the view that sprawls before us. “This is going to kill me.”
“Bet that’s deep enough to hide a body or two,” Khol quips from behind me, and I snort, wondering just how many secrets these waters have swallowed.
Just like that, the sneaky snake has made me comfortable again.
“As long as none of those bodies are ours,” Dezi says dryly, his gaze sweeping the horizon.
When we go back inside, we find Revelin is already fluffing pillows in one of the three side bedrooms. Each has bedding so plush it could swallow me whole.
“We should mess up some sheets... for authenticity,” he suggests with a wink in my direction.
My cheeks betray me, flushing with heat, while I try to swat at his arm.
“Keep it up and you won’t have to muss the extras to hide anything,” I retort, but we both know it’s half-hearted.
Revelin winks, then draws runes in the air, intricate symbols that leave trails of shimmering energy, locking the place down. “No uninvited guests,” he says firmly. “Not on my watch.”
“Good. I’d hate to return to find our toothbrushes tampered with,” Dezi deadpans, but there’s a hint of genuine concern in his usually unreadable face.
The prince sighs and tilts his head. “We have to bring the research and shit up here while we’re staying here. The bus is warded, but if we aren’t there to see it as often, I worry about intruders with magic enough to hide it well, especially in a capital city.”
That makes everyone pause and I nod at him. “Good call, princey-poo. Maybe rich, spoiled brats are good for something.”
He opens his mouth to retort—something truly filthy, I bet—but Tiernan cuts him off. “Alright, let’s get changed. He’s got a public to appease and I’m fucking hungry.”
After we change, we descend to the fancy ass restaurant downstairs.
Our attire is a notch above casual—except for Revelin, who’s looking every inch the royal he is.
The patrons’ stares cling to us like cobwebs, sticky and unwelcome.
The prince catches my eye and nods subtly before murmuring an incantation.
A wave of silence wraps around us, muffling the outside world.
“Here’s the plan,” he begins, taking a deep breath. “Tiernan and I need to meet with Amethyst and the council today. We can’t afford any missteps, not after Goldgarde.”
His blue eyes flicker with memories better left buried, and a protective rage simmers in my chest. “If they so much as look at you wrong, I’ll—” I start, my hands balling into fists.
“Knuckles, please. No disemboweling talk at the breakfast table.” Tiernan chides gently, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
He’s pissed about that shit, too.
“Fine,” I relent, leaning back in my chair. “But only because you asked nicely.”
“Dezi, what’s your plan?” Revelin’s voice is steady, but I catch the minute clench of his jaw that says he’s bracing for trouble.
The vampire leans back, his dark eyes scanning the perimeter like a hawk. “I’ll grab some shadows and scout the town. We need eyes on every corner.” Dezi looks at me next. “Witchling, Khol can take you to the spa here. You should be seen soaking up the pleasures of Amber Hollow as well.”
My mouth twists into a reluctant scowl, even as my stomach does an unexpected flip of excitement. “Spa? That’s not really my scene,” I grumble, although the thought of warm water and massages whispers seductively in my mind.
“Come on, Sassy,” Khol says with a grin, “think of the fluffy one. You can both laugh about this later. I’m sure you can tell the pixie all about it when she gets here. Maybe even send pictures?”
The idea is appealing, and before I know it, I’m mentally framing shots of the spa’s luxuriousness to share with Feray. A strange swell of femininity rises within me, and my hand jerks, nearly sending my chair toppling backward.
What the actual hell? Am I… turning girly?
Laughter ripples around the table. Revelin’s eyes twinkle with mirth, and Tiernan shakes his head, trying to suppress his own chuckle. “Knuckles, you’ll still be our fierce warrior, even if you emerge with acrylic nails and a blowout.”
“Exactly,” Khol adds, his grin infectious. “And if you chip a nail, I’ve got you covered. Who do you think keeps mine looking nice?”
“I’m very good with many cosmetics,” Revelin says with a shrug. “I just let my people do it now because I enjoy their artistry. But I can help if you end up liking anything you experience.”
“Traitors,” I mutter with mock bitterness, but warmth blooms in my chest at their gentle teasing. I nod, conceding to the spa plan. “Fine. Khol and I will be pampered princesses today in service of your rabid following.”
The vampire studies the two of us for a moment, mischief flickering across his face briefly before he nods. “That’s acceptable. You’ll still be in within the relative safety of the hotel while we are split up and the Prince will have his guard.”
“What about you, old man?” I ask playfully. “No one to watch your fine ass?”
He chokes on his coffee at the compliment, then recovers quickly. “I’ve stayed alive without them for longer than most countries have existed, witchling. But your concern is noted. Good girl.”
My face heats and I drop my gaze to the plateful of food, stuffing my mouth before I say something I don’t know if I’ll regret or be happy about.
Luckily, no one presses me on it.
As we each delve into our meals, the soft clinks of cutlery become a calming melody against the muted backdrop of the restaurant’s hum.
Despite the surreptitious glances directed our way and the sporadic notifications chirping from phones—no doubt spreading word of our arrival—I feel a sense of belonging envelop me.
“Thank you,” I murmur, almost too softly to hear over the din, but they understand—their nods and smiles speak volumes.
They know, just as I do, that we are bound by more than just fate or chance.
As I gaze across the table at their determined faces, I realize that no amount of spa-induced softness will ever dull my edges.
Amidst whispers and watchful eyes, I’ve found my place in this ragtag family—and nothing could be more empowering.