19. Imogen

19

IMOGEN

I hang off Leo's arm with a vice grip—I had forgotten how the cobblestone side streets uptown do not cooperate with heels. He doesn't hold back his laughter as I hop along on my toes, trying to avoid the deadly cracks between stones.

"Couldn't you carry me the rest of the way?" I beg.

"Nope. You did this to yourself," he says. "You must suffer the consequences."

I groan. "I'm making Nora drive us home."

"Why didn't they pick us up, anyway?"

"Because I wanted to run something by you before we get there," I say.

"Oh-kay," Leo drawls the syllables out. "Maybe a better time would have been before we left the Den, and you weren't fighting for your life?"

"Yeah, well, hindsight, right?" I huff.

"So…"

"Right. This is where I'm supposed to tell you what I wanted to talk to you about."

My throat is tight and my body jittery as I gather the nerve to get the words out. It's funny, we joke about succession all the time, so you'd think it'd be easy bringing this up. But I need him to understand that, this time, it's not a joke.

It hit me the other day, after Nora and Josie escorted me back to Anwynn. I had collapsed on top of my quilt, my soot-smudged shoes dangling off the bed, uncaring if the chemical campfire smell I carried home seeped into the sheets.

Going from such sweet contentment to walking through the burned rubble of their warehouse—seeing Nora shoot someone —had me staring at the ceiling of my bedroom for hours.

Suddenly, I was thirteen again, spacing out and replaying how I fucked up my first kiss over and over. Except I wasn't thirteen, and I was replaying how my girlfriend killed someone in front of me.

I knew her hands weren't clean. She had never lied about what they had to do under the former Pride's reign, but it hadn't really clicked .

I chose to be a Sin four years ago. To continue my mother and brother's legacy because that was what they would have wanted. I always knew there was a certain level of danger that came with this position, but I thought I could avoid it if I kept my head down. If I didn't ruffle any feathers, it would be okay.

Then Nora became Pride and Silas came knocking at my door. Some deranged Seelie is burning down Nora's warehouses. She's killing people in turn. And I've found myself at the center of all the shit I tried to avoid in the first place.

As I was lying there, staring at the blank ceiling, so pure and white, an inkling of doubt crept into me.

Did I choose to be Lust because I wanted it? Or did I do it because I was grieving, and it was the last thing I had that belonged to my family?

Leo's advice from weeks ago had haunted me as I stared into the untouched plaster.

Think about what it is you really want.

"What are your thoughts on filling in for me at some upcoming Sins functions?" I ask.

I want to ease him into this conversation.

"Sure, anything you need," Leo says quickly. But then he peers down at me with concern in his deep brown irises. "Why? Is something wrong? Are you sick?"

A snort escapes me. "No, I'm not sick. But I don't want you to agree because you think you need to?—"

"I know I don't have to do anything I don't want to with you, Mo."

"Good. Because I think it's time you step up more."

"Oh?" He smiles. "Am I not doing a good enough job running things as your Second?"

"The opposite," I laugh. "I've finally taken your advice to heart. I've been thinking a lot about what I want out of life. To see what happens if I take a step back, focus on the bars like I was supposed to before the accident. And let you take the lead."

His heavy gaze weighs on me, but I keep my eyes focused on the cracks and crevices at our feet. It takes two of my steps to keep pace with one of his.

"We'll take the transition as slowly as you need to feel comfortable," I add with a laugh. "No pressure. You know?"

"If that's what you want."

This time I meet his eye and give him a smile, albeit a bittersweet one.

"I think so. But I'll keep you posted if that changes," I say. "So, you should be on your best behavior when we see Gluttony tonight."

Leo nods, eyes swimming with a whirlpool of emotions. I lost my family that day, the same as him. Life looks different from what we both had planned the night the Den opened.

We turn our attention back to the street, me focusing back on our feet and him guiding us around a stray pedestrian.

After a moment, he chuckles.

"Does that mean things are going well with Nora?" he asks.

I smack his chest, though it doesn't have much power behind it.

"This is about me." My lips twitch, holding back a smug smile. "But yes. I think things are looking up."

Leo's laughter bellows between the buildings as we turn a corner and stop before a crowd gathered outside Gluttony's restaurant.

"Oh, Mo. You're fucked."

"Yeah. I really am."

Throngs of fae wait in line to use the elevator for the restaurant; the entrance is a small room at the base of the building used to ferry guests up to the top floor. Lit by two brass sconces, the plaque labeling the restaurant features delicate script and detailing around the edges.

When it's our turn to step into the elevator, the attendant closes the safety barrier for us and presses one of two buttons on the panel. The doors close on their own, then the elevator jerks into action, raising us stories into the air.

The first thing I notice as we step out of the metal cage is the view. Three of the walls are floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the park and showcasing the sprawling city skyline. It gives the illusion that we're gods floating in the clouds, looking down upon the little fae scurrying around the city like ants.

It's still light out, but the sun will dip down soon; I imagine it'll crest over the horizon with grace, painting the sky a beautiful wash of colors as we watch on.

Leo tugs me to the hostess, a thin, sharp-boned woman with her hair cut into a short bob.

"We should have a reservation under?—"

"Lust!"

I'm cut off by a cheerful voice. My head whips to the side to find Hattie waving at us from a table near the far windows. Nora sits to her left, beside an empty seat, shaking her head.

"Actually, I think we're set, thank you," I say, pointing to the half-filled table.

I don't wait for the hostess to reply before I grab Leo's hand and pull him towards the group. He quickly takes the empty seat next to Josie and across from Nora while I slip into the one between Nora and the windows.

"No Claude tonight?" Leo asks, noting the empty seat opposite Hattie at the other head of the table.

"He and Wes had promised they'd do dinner with their nan a while ago," Josie says.

Leo unbuttons his suit jacket and leans back in his seat like he owns the place.

"They should be here to support you," Nora grumbles.

"It's fine." Josie waves her off. "I've got you guys."

"I'm glad you invited us," I say. "This place is fancier than I thought it would be."

I take the cloth napkin and drape it over my thighs. It's a deep ruby-red that compliments the amethyst shade of my dress. I curated my outfit to impress tonight; the heavily embellished gown reaches my ankles, and my hair is curled and pinned into a low bun.

The rest of the table is also dressed more formal than usual. Josie is wearing a dress tonight, a deep teal that suits her warm tan skin, and Nora has added a matching suit jacket to her blouse and trouser set.

Nora fingers the beaded fringe that serves as the sleeve of my dress.

"This is cute."

"Not sexy?" I pout.

I'm teasing, but I don't think she realizes since her brows knit in concerned confusion.

"You're always sexy," she says, like I'm speaking nonsense. "Do you not enjoy being called cute?"

"Of course I do. I was teasing."

"Oh, okay. Good."

Things have still been a bit awkward between us, but I wasn't lying to Leo when I said they were looking up.

"You're pretty cute too," I say.

"How is it that you two got even more sickeningly sweet after your latest relationship woes?" Leo says, adding a fake gag after.

"You're just jealous because she doesn't like dick, and you can't find anyone as good as her," Nora says smugly. "No offense, Hattie."

"None taken. If I was attracted girls, I would have a crush on Imogen too," Hattie says, nodding her head emphatically. "I know a catch when I see one."

Leo sighs dramatically, steepling his fingers and leveling a serious stare at Nora over them.

"Mo is basically my sister. And I have never once thought about her sexually," he says. He takes a dramatic pause, giving each of us four girls an individual glare. "However, if you know someone with a figure like hers, I will not say no to an introduction."

I lock eyes with Josie across the table, both of us trying—and failing—to hold in our laughter. It dominoes into all five of us filling the room with the cackles of our amusement.

"On that note…" I snag the menu off the table. "What is everyone thinking for food?"

"I recommend anything with truffle in it. Those were my favorite dishes during testing," Josie says.

"Eh, I don't eat mushrooms," Hattie says, nose scrunching as she picks up her menu.

"Then don't order a dish with mushrooms." Nora rolls her eyes. "Simple."

Leo buries his face in the folds of the menu. "What about drinks? Did you three order before we got here?"

"I told the server to get us a bottle of white faerie wine," Nora says.

"No champagne?" Leo asks, popping his head over the fancy cardstock. "I thought this was a celebration?"

Nora, Hattie, and Josie all go awkwardly silent.

"Unfortunately, there's going to be a champagne shortage for a while." I grimace.

"What? Why?"

"Seelie bastards is why," Nora mutters under her breath.

She reaches into her pocket to pull out her cigarette case and lighter, deftly setting light to one and tossing the lighter onto the table. It lands with a dull thunk against the thick tablecloth.

"Josie, why don't you pick out a bunch of your favorites and we can all share?" I say. "I'm fine with anything, and I trust your judgment."

Pink flushes her cheeks at being singled out.

"Okay. Yeah. I can do that," she says. "The rest of you good with that?"

Resounding yeses sound from the table, and we fall into easy conversation. Soon enough, our food is served and my nose tickles at the indulgent smells. Butter and sage waft up from the dish in front of me, while the dish in front of Leo steams with spices. Josie explains where each dish's human ingredients were sourced from, and we all listen, enthralled by the passion in her voice.

As we finish the dinner course, the lights dim around us. A singular light falls on the small circular stage at the center of the room, and Gluttony struts onto the platform. She's glowing in a batwing gown of glittering gold with deep swaths of her brown skin peeking out from the dips at her chest and back. Her hair is slicked into shiny finger waves, and she's dripping in jewels.

"Thank you all for coming tonight," Gluttony says into the standing microphone on stage. "I hope you all are enjoying your meals so far."

Gluttony pauses; patrons clap and yowl and whistle, all of us already buzzing from the atmosphere and alcohol. My own cheeks flush—between the two bottles of faerie wine we've guzzled down and the stray touches Nora places on the skin between my shoulder blades, I can't help but feel warm.

"Now, I want to introduce a very special guest who is going to perform for you all… Miss Venus Day!"

Applause erupts as the well-known singer joins Gluttony on stage. Her skin is a shade lighter than Gluttony's but just as warm-toned.

"Thank you, Gluttony." Venus's deep velvet voice flows through the microphone. "I'm excited to sing for y'all tonight. Boys?"

Three musicians step up behind her, taking their places with the instruments on the stage—a piano, a standing base, and a drum set. Gluttony quickly waves a goodbye, and the room is filled with smooth riffs and gentle jazz.

"She stole Miss V from us!" Leo says, lips pressed into a flat line as he glares at the singer who does a weekly set at the Den.

"She's a singer, Leo. She needs to book other work. We only hire her for Saturday nights," I say. "Plus, Gluttony's clearly not letting her have her wings out. That'll differentiate us enough that it won't matter."

He's utterly miffed when he realizes I'm right, sinking into his seat like a sulking child.

"Maybe I'll book her more often," he mumbles.

Two shadows fall over our table, the air crackling with electricity. I look up and find the Unseelie King and Wrath, smirking and frowning respectively.

"Evening, ladies," Silas says. His head tilts pointedly at Leo. "And gentleman."

They're backlit by the sunset; the orange glow glints off the silver piercings lining Silas's ear and his ring-clad fingers. Meanwhile, Wrath resembles a demon, his warm sandy-brown hair glinting molten amber in the light.

I stare daggers at Silas, though his attention is focused solely on Nora. Her knuckle brushes over the vertebra of my neck, a silent, soothing gesture that she repeats.

"Your Majesty," Nora greets begrudgingly.

Silas tsks. "Do we need formalities tonight? We're all here as friends of Gluttony, celebrating her success."

"We always need formalities," Wrath mutters. His red-brown eyes cut across the room, uninterested. He can't even be bothered to be near us.

So why come over here, asshole?

Silas waves Wrath's comment away, pulling out the empty chair at the end of the table and sitting down.

"I did hear House Pride had a hand in our meals tonight. So, I wanted to come over and give my compliments."

He looks expectantly at Nora, but she gives him a deadpan glare.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"Because you're Pride?" he drawls.

"This was my Second's project. You can direct your congratulations at her."

Nora's lips twitch upwards as the table registers that she's issued the Unseelie King a command, however small. We wait, all on edge, to see if he'll follow.

All the while, her thumb strokes up and down my neck.

Silas lips part, forming an open-mouthed smile. Slowly, he turns to Josie—who freezes under his searing gaze—and speaks.

"You did an excellent job," he says. "You should be very proud."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Are you two together?" Hattie calls across the table. Her cheek is smooshed against her hand, her head tilted, and her brows are knit over curious eyes that flick between Silas and Wrath. She waggles a finger from her free hand at Wrath. "He's always hanging off you like a shadow."

The table goes still, preparing for the Unseelie King to reprimand Hattie for speaking out of turn. But Silas laughs, the deep ocean waves rolling over us.

"Ha! No," Silas says. "He's more of a grumpy, over-protective, older brother who I can't get rid of?—"

"I'm only two months older than you," Wrath grumbles, pulling a golden pocket watch from his suit.

"—wait, why do you ask?" Silas asks. He and Hattie chatter back and forth like two happy squirrels.

The rest of us watch, dumbfounded.

Leo leans into Josie, whispering, "What is happening right now?"

"I believe he is trying to build friendly rapport with the group," she whispers back.

"Ah," Leo says. "Why?"

Silas snaps his fingers, and Josie and Leo jump to attention. He's got a smarmy, closed-lipped smirk on as he drawls, "It's rude to talk about people when they're right in front of you."

Leo's eyes widen and cut to mine. I cock my brow as if to say get used to it, bud, this is your future.

Wrath's hand comes down on Silas's shoulder, his sturdy grip apparent by the wrinkling of Silas's suit. He doesn't say anything, but a quick shared glance between the two men is all Wrath needs.

"It seems my carriage is going to turn into a pumpkin, and I've got to get this grandpa home—it's well past Wrath's bedtime." Silas gets up, gently pushing his chair back into place. Then he throws his arm around Wrath with a cheeky salute. "See you Monday, Pride."

Wrath shoves Silas's arm off his shoulder as the two retreat across the room.

"I would not describe him as a grandpa," Hattie murmurs, biting her bottom lip as she makes googly eyes at Wrath's back. "Maybe a daddy, though."

All four of our brows snap to our hairlines.

"Hattie!" Josie nearly chokes on her wine.

"I'm usually all for that, but with him?" Leo gags.

"What? Wrath's hot." When she realizes we're all staring as if she's gone absolutely mental, she has the decency to look embarrassed. "Not that I would pursue someone from another House without explicit permission and enthusiasm from our fearless leader."

"Uh-huh," Nora deadpans.

"Wait, what did he mean by 'See you Monday?'" I ask.

Nora winces, pulling her hand away from my neck. She grabs my hand instead, intertwining our fingers.

"Don't be mad."

"I feel like that statement does the opposite of what you want it to do…"

Nora scratches her cheek. "I have to go on a research trip with the two of them on Monday. Our king has decreed that my magic must be studied."

"Why would I be mad about that?" I say.

"Because it's Silas?" Nora says.

Okay. Fair. I don't want her spending more time with that dangerous asshole than necessary.

"Where is this research taking place?" Leo asks for me, tone laced with suspicion. "I'm assuming somewhere not in the city?"

"I don't think so. He didn't say," she says. Then, with a grimace, she adds, "And I don't know how long I'll be gone."

" Ah ." I'm finally getting a sense of where this conversation is going.

I pull her hand into my lap, cradling it with both of mine. I glance around the table, and with a subtle tilt of my head, our three companions suddenly find themselves all needing to use the restroom.

When we're alone, I ask, "What is it that you're worried about?"

Nora chews on her cheek, not meeting my eye, obviously uncomfortable with talking about this here. But the other night she asked me to help. And pushing her to explain her worry is a part of that.

"I don't enjoy the idea of leaving you for that long after, well, you know."

After she murdered a Seelie in front of me?

"Do you think I'm incapable of protecting myself?" I ask pointedly.

"Of course not. But there are larger threats at play?—"

"Things are no different today than they were two weeks ago."

She glares at me, but there's no ire in those gemstone irises, only concern. "I would argue differently."

I tilt my head, tracing over her pointed features. "Are you nervous?"

"Why would I be nervous?"

"It's just strange that Silas is doing this now, rather than when you were younger." I don't need to add the rest of the context— why do this after he had me spying on her? —she knows. "And let me be clear, I don't like it. But after everything, I know you wouldn't agree to spend time with him without a good reason."

Nora nods. "He's being cagey about it, but I'm curious about what information they have on my magic. It could change things human-side."

It could help her protect her House.

"Okay," I say.

"And it seems he didn't trust me before." Nora runs her finger over the rim of her crystal glass.

"But you think he does now?"

"Well enough." Nora shrugs, but the look in her eyes holds a darkness I can't place. She takes a deep breath, letting out a languid sigh. "I don't want to talk about him anymore. I want to enjoy the rest of the night with you and our friends." Then, a devilish smirk spreads across her cheeks. "I should be home by Solstice though."

"Oh yeah?" I say slowly, following her train of thought.

"Mhm," she hums. "And I can think of the perfect present to unwrap when I get back."

We laugh, fingers still intertwined, and the colorful notes spread warmth through me.

"Are you sure you don't want a ride home?" I ask Leo.

He waves me off.

"It's good. Hattie and I are going to one of Envy's clubs," he says, arm slung around the tiny blond.

"We want to dance," Hattie says with a little shimmy.

"Alright," I laugh. "Be safe, then."

"Thanks, Ma ," Leo snickers. But before I can smack his arm, Hattie shadow-walks them out of the lobby with a giggle goodbye.

Nora comes back from settling the tab and pauses. "They already left?"

"Apparently we are too boring for them," I say solemnly.

Nora chuffs.

"Josie should be back from the restroom shortly. Why don't you wait for her while I grab the car from the valet?"

"Okay."

Nora places a kiss on my cheek before hopping into the elevator.

The metal doors slide shut; they are elaborate golden panels that contrast the dark jade paint on the walls. I run my hand over the cool metal, tracing the filigree designs, both geometric and floral at the same time.

It's not more than a few minutes before I feel a presence at my side.

"Hi," Josie says.

"Hi."

A beat passes between us as we both stare at the elevator.

"Everything will be okay, you know," Josie says, sticking her hands into the pockets of her coat.

"Why do you say that?" I ask.

Josie shifts next to me, and I know that if she didn't have her mental shields locked tight, I'd catch a whiff of embarrassment floating off her. She doesn't look at me as she speaks, instead analyzing the elevator doors as if they're the most interesting thing in the world. I shouldn't judge, though; I was doing the same thing.

"You seemed concerned when Nora mentioned her trip." Josie shrugs. "I wanted to reassure you. I know Silas isn't your favorite."

I tilt my head at her, a smile tugging at my lips. She still doesn't meet my eyes. "Reading my mind?"

"No, your shields are ironclad. I can just tell."

"Empath's curse," I commiserate, earning me a delicate snort from Josie.

"My mother certainly thought so," she says. "She thought it a burden for me to know everyone's business. Would've much rather had me wield shadows like them."

I turn toward Josie in earnest, leaning my shoulder into the framing of the elevator as I cross my arms over my chest.

"She wasn't an empath?" I ask.

"Neither of my parents were."

"Strange."

"My father thought as much, with such an uncommon gift. I'm confident that if I wasn't his spitting image that he would've thought my mother cheated," she says, though her tone is laced with fondness, not spite. "Then my grandmother got loose-lipped on her deathbed and dropped the big family secret: she had a fling with an empath before my dad was born. Pretty sure that conversation aged him a century."

I laugh. I can only imagine how that kind of conversation would have gone.

"Sorry, didn't mean to say all of that," Josie adds, pink rushing to her cheeks.

"Don't apologize. I like hearing about your past," I say. "I can tell there's a lot of love in your House despite the bad bits."

"Bad bits" is an understatement, but it feels wrong to refer to their traumas as anything more after such a nice night.

Though, I'm filled with the urge to reassure Josie that she can talk about those things with me. Good or bad.

I pick at the beading on my dress.

"When I stayed over the other day, I saw the wings on the wall," I say, and Josie's back stiffens. "Nora told me about what Pride made you guys do. You know I'm here for both of you if you ever want to talk about it."

She gives me a tight smile. "Thank you. But they're not my stories to share."

The hall grows quiet, as if speaking of him has caused the ghost of Nora's predecessor to fall upon us. Josie's gaze lands anywhere but on me, tracking the wall and catching on the elevator panel. She lifts a delicate finger to point at it.

"You know you didn't hit the button to call the elevator up, right?"

"I didn't?" I ask, feigning surprise, though I know I never pressed the button. She jabs it for me, the little down arrow lighting up under her touch. "It's a good thing you got here in time to help, otherwise I'd be stuck."

She laughs. It's a warm chuckle that wraps around me like a hug.

Maybe I did need her reassurance after all.

Sliding the deadbolt into place, I flip the bar's house lights on and shuck my jacket off. I had offered Nora a nightcap, but she declined, needing to prepare for her trip.

My fingers brush over my lips, puffy and swollen from the toe-curling kiss she'd left me with, whispering promises that she'll see me before she leaves and make up for her absence tenfold when she returns.

The difference between now and two weeks ago is staggering.

With light feet, I twirl across the empty bar, skirt fluttering around my ankles, humming one of Miss V's riffs.

"You two are cute."

" Fucking Gods —" I drop my jacket as I nearly jump out of my skin.

I scan the bar, searching for the intruder until my glare lands on the signature white hair of the Unseelie King.

"You're always showing up when you're not welcome, you know that?" I huff, bending down to pick up my jacket and drape it over the bar counter. "That is twice tonight."

Silas's deep chuckle echoes in the empty space.

I approach him, shoulders taut and pulled back as I stop at the edge of the table. Silas lounges in one of the VIP booths, one arm stretched across the back, fingers tapping a chaotic rhythm on the leather. Ice clinks in the whiskey glass that he twirls on the table.

"Helped yourself to the top shelf?" I ask. "Didn't drink enough at Gluttony's?"

His responding smile is cloyed, an all-too-sweet falseness shining up at me.

"Wrath says I shouldn't overindulge in public," he says.

"Does the Unseelie King always listen to his subordinates?" I ask, a lightning strike of confidence pushing me to test him.

My hands come to rest on my hips; the Unseelie King's eyes—pupil-less voids in the dim light—flick between my hips and the other end of the booth. An unspoken order that I ignore.

"Sit."

The one word wavers my confidence; devoid of all amusement, his voice commands obedience. My hands drop back to my sides, and I slide into the booth across from him—then the playful spark in his eyes is back.

"I don't mean to offend, Your Majesty, but I will not be?—"

"I came to apologize," he says. My breath catches in my throat when he cuts me off. "Not about using you for intelligence, that is my right as king and part of the vetting process for all who come into power here. But I do hold a minuscule sliver of guilt for causing any trouble between you and Pride. I won't be asking you about her any longer. We've come to a mutual understanding."

My lips twist. "Why didn't you say that when we saw you earlier?"

"I didn't think it was the proper place for this conversation."

"Okay."

"Well?"

I blink. "Pardon?"

"Do you accept my apology?"

I give him an awkward, tight-lipped smile. "Consider it behind us."

"Good."

My skin grows clammy as we sit and stare at each other.

"Are you going to leave now, or did you need something else?" I ask tentatively.

His white brows hit his hairline, and I swear I can almost make out a hint of pink on the apples of his cheeks. Silas throws back the last sips of his drink before gracefully getting up from the booth. He pauses, tapping the table with his ringed knuckles, shadows curling around the appendages.

"I hope you can find it within yourself to think of me as more of a friend than a king going forward," he says, slowly disappearing into the inky tendrils. "If things progress the way I think they will, then we'll all be seeing a lot more of each other."