Page 99 of A House of Cloaks & Daggers

I couldn’t tell them apart. Light magic was easy to spot in Wren’s eyes, and I could feel it pouring off Lucais by the warmth that encircled him like a second skin, but how did wind magic present itself?

A flash of dark hair caught my attention on the other side of the room, and I took a careful step towards the crowd of faeries standing in the open space in the centre, swaying and rocking their hips as a low, sensual beat began to vibrate beneath my feet.

I cursed under my breath.

Is this how their dinners were always hosted? Is this why Lucais asked his inner circle to steer clear of me while I adjusted?

No amount of time would have prepared me for this. Certainly not when both the High King and his Hand—and his High Lady, for that matter—neglected to mention that the High Fae paid more attention to each other than they did to their food during meal times.

I needed to find Lucais.

I was sure that I had seen a glimpse of his head on the other side of the room, but there was a sea of bodies between us and the thought of getting any closer to them as the music began to follow the rhythm of their movements made me uneasy.

It was tame. The way that they touched each other… It was tame, but I wasn’t naïve enough to think that it would stay that way. If I was going to cross the room and curl up into a ball beside Lucais, I had to do it quickly.

Taking a deep breath to steel myself, I began to wade into the crowd.

A few faces glanced towards me, eyes half-lidded and mouths turned up at the corners, and their dazed expressions quickly flattened. Nostrils flared softly and murmurs began toripple across the room, prompting other faces to turn in my direction.

I was glad that my blush was concealed beneath the soft cosmic lighting because the burn spread down to my collarbone as a few heads bobbed around me. Nodding—or bowing—as they scented the mating bond to their High King that branded me. It must have been extremely potent, given what we’d done that afternoon.

Some groups took a step back to clear a path for me, but others remained glued to the floor where they stood, watching me with rounded eyes.

High Fae were easy to spot due to their resemblance to humans, but the other races of faeries present in the room were harder for me to discern. There were no monsters like the caenim or the Banshees, but I had to be mindful of webbed feet and antlers as I made my way through the assembly.

Every last one of them was beautiful. Strange, but attractive in the sort of way that unrealistic things always were. I tried not to ogle at them, but I met as many stares as I could and offered them a shy, appreciative smile.

My appreciation was as much to do with their unique beauty as it was to do with the fact that none of them tried to eat me when I walked past them.

As the crowd thinned, I spotted a dais against the far wall. The long couch from the reading nook—which had either been physically removed from the room or glamoured—was placed atop it, and both the High King and his Hand were sitting there.

I stumbled over my own feet at the sight of them.

There was no throne, and Lucais didn’t wear a crown. The two of them lounged back in their seats like equals, like brothers who ruled the land together and bowed to no one. Not even each other.

And certainly not to the girl on her knees between them, her head tilted towards Wren.

I swore again—out loud—as the sea of dancers closed in behind me.

The black hair I’d glimpsed did not belong to Lucais, though he was sitting upon the slightly elevated dais beside her. His entire body was angled away from the girl, his head inclined towards the short faerie standing beside him with thin feathered wings and a crown of horns. He hadn’t noticed me entering the room or sliding through the spread of his guests, but Wren had.

Wren—who had unbuttoned his white shirt entirely and reclined in his seat with his elbows resting on the back of the couch. His blond hair was ruffled, tinted with lilac, and his loose-fitting pants hung low around his hips. His physique was on display for the entire room to admire, and the antsy behaviour of the guests swarming the dance floor suddenly made perfect sense.

Skin glimmering beneath the lights like he had painted it with oil, his abdominal muscles rippled as a thin, stark white hand stretched up his core from between his legs. He threw his head back slightly, lips parting, as the dark-haired girl on her knees switched her full attention to him.

I didn’t look at Lucais to see if he had noticed me yet, to learn if he had banished her at the sight of me or if he would have asked her to step back either way. I didn’t care as the deathly white hand and its slender, splayed fingers climbed up Wren’s perfectly chiselled chest, and his hips rocked gently, urging her to squeeze in between his open legs.

Her face was hidden, midnight tresses falling almost to the floor as his arms slid down from the back of the couch, and he brushed her hair over her shoulders with more affection than I’d ever seen him implement. He gathered her hair in his hands, threading his fingers through it, and I wanted to be sick.

I wanted to turn around and run away, but I was paralysed by the scene unfolding before me, and he could tell.

Wren met my gaze, disgust and greed warring in my eyes, and his hands fisted in the girl’s hair as he urged her to climb onto his lap. The pit in my stomach clenched, a brutal and shattering warmth spreading down between my legs until my thighs began to tremble as she obeyed.

When she was straddling him, his hands began to roam across her body. Our stare was locked the entire time and thick, red-hot bile shot up the back of my throat.

Lucais.

I forced the image of the High King into my mind, forced my eyes to tear away from Wren’s and seek out my mate.

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