Page 79 of Wrath of the Fae Queen
I feel disconnected from the celebrations, unable to relax.
Not until my mate is here among us, safe in my arms.
Her job tonight was the most dangerous of all. I can sense her through our bond, sneaking through the royal escape tunnels with Drake at her side, but it will take time for her to arrive.
Cyprien inserts himself in front of me, preventing my pacing, and tucks a glass of rakisi into my hand. “Why do you look sosour? Was tonight not a triumph? Did Keira not confirm that she found our army? Relax for one night.”
“Relax?” I raise a single eyebrow. “Do you know the meaning of the word, Cyprien?”
“Yeah. It’s a gods-damned fleeting thing.” He knocks back his entire drink in a single gulp. “I can relax when I drink, fight or fuck. Every other time—well, you know what the crushing pressure is like.”
I remember the man he was before he married my sister. Cyprien had bedded a different woman every time I spoke to him, and we spoke often. He was so incredibly discreet that few knew this side of him. Unfortunately, it meant he had too many married women unsuccessfully chasing him. He has always had a stick up his ass when it comes to the rules, but following this one is something I have always respected about him.
For a fleeting moment, I wonder if he is the same now, but I am no longer the man he confides in, being the brother of his passed wife. A deep part of me hopes he hasn’t spent decades being loyal to her ghost and missing out on a big part of life. It could go either way with Cyprien.
Relax, he says.How do I do damned thing like that when my people are in turmoil?
“I need to speak to our newest allies,” I grumble.
“Titania’s corrupt senators?” Cyprien states coldly. “Let them stew in their own self-pity and fear for a night. We will deal with them tomorrow. Join your people in celebration.”
I look around the room, at Klara and Silvan clinking mugs of ale. She throws back her head and laughs, tossing her lilac braids around her, and his usual brooding expression is gone. Hawthorne and Rainier sit around a table, learning a card game from Ada and Nico. By the darkest abyss, I hope the assassins don’t poison them in the process, like they did to me.
Dante clutches a handful of forgotten darts, the center of the board across from him littered with his marks, while he has an animated conversation with Caitlin. She offers him a mug of ale and he pushes it away. From the way her eyebrows slash downward and her lips are pressed thin, it would be easy to think they were having an argument, but that is how Caitlin always looks.
She flicks her auburn braid over her shoulder and stalks toward us, Dante in tow. “He won’t drink the ale or the rakisi,” Caitlin snaps like it is my fault.
Dante shrugs. “I’ve been a hundred years sober.”
“He needs to drink something to celebrate.” Her eyes flick to Cyprien. “Do you have chocolate for melting into a beverage, or…” She grimaces. “Or coffee for him to try?” She whips back to the Starlight fae. “Really, Dante, you request coffee at this time of night?”
He shrugs. “I’ve never heard of chocolate, but I’ve always wanted to try coffee. We didn’t get access to human trade when the portals between realms were open, and it is even harder to come by now. I don’t exactly get a chance to go shopping whenever I am on a mission in the seasonal courts.”
“Everything you need is behind the bar,” Cyprien says. “I assume you can use your fire magic to boil the water.”
“Stay here.” Caitlin points a stern finger at Dante, then turns on her heel and stalks to the bar.
“Talk about aggressive hospitality.” Dante runs a hand through his hair. “Are all of your mate’s family like this?” he asks me.
“Unfortunately. Her father is the worst,” I admit. “Your best friend one moment and ready to remove your head from your shoulders the next.”
“Don’t forget about her grandmother, the High Priestess who imprisoned and tortured you for weeks,” Cyprien snickers, and I cringe at the mention of the old spider.
Dante grins. “Well, at least the sister hasn’t punched me.”
“Yet.” I smirk. “Caitlin doesn’t know her sister is angry with you.”
“What about those two?” Cyprien flicks his head to where Valentine and Belladonna are tucked away in a corner in a small armchair. She sits in his lap, her hands all over his chest while she feeds him fruit from a platter. They laugh and talk in low murmurs, constantly kissing. Their faces are never far away from each other. It makes my heart ache for Keira. “Are they always like that? It can’t be easy to be around as a single man.”
Dante glances at them. “Do you mean being disgustingly cute? Yeah. You have no idea what it is like being the third wheel to mates.”
Cyprien gives me a dark look. “I have some idea.”
“Are you close with them because of your line of work?” I ask to shift the heat off myself. “I never quite worked out your command structure.”
A light glitters in Dante’s eyes. “No, I grew up with Belladonna as her foster brother. I knew her long before there was any league of assassins and she took interest in politics. The girl I was orphaned with didn’t know she was one of the many bastard children of the previous king and wanted nothing more than to become a professional dancer. She did, of course. Opened her own studio and theater, but it wasn’t enough. Valentine worked as a deep undercover spy for Leonardo…sometimes. When he felt like it. At other times he was more of a smuggler and vigilante. He has quite the reputation for going rogue.”
I glance at the pair, wondering about their history and how a dancer falls for a spy.
