34. Nora

34

NORA

B ennie slams down his cards, rattling the metal garden table.

Leo groans, head hanging back as he throws his cards to the table. They scatter across the poker chips, flipping over to reveal a handful of random numbers and houses.

"You lot are surprisingly shit at cards," Bennie says. He snickers as he collects his bounty of chips. "I thought empaths were supposed to be good at reading people?"

In just a few short hours, Bennie has developed a comfortable cockiness around us, as if we're old friends and not enemies.

Josie quirks a brow at me as if to say, can you believe this guy?

Leo snorts, cracking open one lid and side eyeing the Virtue. I suppress the smile threatening to break across my face. Leo is a master at cards, but today our goal isn't to win. Quite the opposite—it behooves us to lose.

Winners get comfortable. Comfortable fae get loose lips.

I gather the long since folded cards in front of Imogen and me and pass them to Josie. Josie packs them back into their case with nimble fingers.

Silence settles over us.

Leo sighs, basking in the last rays of sun; it has finally begun its descent for the night, bidding us goodbye.

I check the watch in my pocket: twenty-eight past four. Strange how the sun still sets as it does in winter, yet the air is warm and riding the edge of humidity.

We set up shop in the center of the courtyard, taking over the long rectangle table and chairs. They're a set of green iron furniture, with unique twisting patterns and floral motifs. The metal was warm when we sat down, having baked in the sun all morning.

Not only was it too nice out to not enjoy the courtyard, but out here, we also have a semblance of privacy.

"They say Anwynn has exceptionally brisk winters. Is that true?" Bennie asks.

He stretches, reaching muscular arms up to the sky with a groan. Those of us in suits have abandoned our jackets, Bennie, Leo, and I all in various states of rolled up sleeves and unbuttoned collars to avoid overheating.

He's asked a slew of similar questions through the afternoon; some would say he's curious, but I know better.

I'd argue there's a carefully hidden reason why he wants to know so much about our lives.

Bennie's entertaining, but he's still a Virtue.

"It isn't much different from winters human-side," I say.

"Another reference to a place I've never been," Bennie says. "Are you trying to call my bluff?"

"Can you blame me?" I ask.

Leaning back in my seat, I cross one ankle over my knee and stretch an arm over the back of Imogen's chair. She shifts in her seat, scooting back enough that I can tease the base of her neck with my knuckle.

"Fair is fair." Bennie scratches his chin, tracing the sharp contour of his jawline. "When I was a youngling, I had a cousin who lived there with my aunt. I was a jealous little shit." The garden buzzes, bees fluttering between the overgrown wildflowers as his eyes sheen over with nostalgia. "I begged and begged my father to let me visit them, but I was always denied."

"Aren't the only Seelie who live human-side exiles?" Leo asks.

A shrewd smile spreads across Bennie's cheeks, revealing matching dimples that peek around the curved edge of his mustache.

"I didn't say they weren't exiles." Leo's face goes slack with understanding; Bennie raps his knuckles against the metal table to emphasize his point. "Now you see why I was denied. The family drama back in the day was intense." He shoots me a knowing wink. "Still is."

I lick my lips, ignoring the strange pit forming in my stomach. "So, I take it you never got to meet your cousin?"

"I had to focus on more important things, according to my father. Things like my magic." Bennie rolls his eyes. "I was an early bloomer, and was shipped off to train at age six. Patience—as I'm sure you could tell by looking at him—holds a tight leash on his assets. But I am happy to say I was able to meet her eventually, even though it was under less-than-ideal circumstances."

It's not lost on me that he refers to himself as an asset to Patience rather than a son. It's not unlike Pride's mindset on children, except instead of finding a partner to birth his legacy, he plucked me off the street.

"She turned out to be quite the impressive young woman," Bennie says.

"Is that so?" I murmur.

"And what kind of magic runs through your veins?" Imogen asks, changing the subject.

She leans forward in her seat, elbow resting on the woven metal and chin resting on the ball of her palm.

Bennie's attention is easily pulled toward Imogen, though his gaze lacks the desire that most hold when they look upon her. Instead, his mossy-green eyes shine with genuine interest in what she has to say.

So subtle, like a pheromone, her magic radiates feelings of calm, openness, and honesty. I've felt the brunt of her magic enough times to recognize the signs: getting lost in your thoughts, like you've taken one too many detours on a story you were trying to tell; a warmth that skitters all over your body; a blur at the edge of your vision, one that doesn't just blink away.

The Seelie may know how to develop mental shields, but I can guarantee they haven't been trained against the subtleties of her influence.

How could they? They don't have any empaths to train against.

Bennie matches Imogen's position, leaning close like they're sharing a secret.

"I always wanted to be a healer. We come from a long line of them that traces back millennia. Patience is the strongest of his generation, and, as the firstborn, I was expected to follow in his footsteps," he says. His expression darkens. "Unfortunately, I didn't get those genes. Someone else in the family tree inherited his supposed greatness."

"You sound bitter," I say.

"Actually, quite the opposite. It took a lot of pressure off me. Allowed me to explore my magic freely."

He lifts his free hand so that it is level between their noses. The world around us fades to background noise, the five of us all focused on the divot of his palm, where a miniature snowstorm swirls. Josie and I have seen Seelie magic in action before, but Leo and Imogen look on with open-mouthed stares as he blows the fake flurries around us. I touch one that sparkles near the tip of my nose and my finger passes through it, shattering the tiny illusion in a burst of rainbow light. The intangible snowflakes disappear as he closes his fist.

"It's hard, living up to your family's expectations. And then reconciling that with what you want," Imogen says.

"Few truer words have been spoken," he says. "Patience wanted me to be his Second despite the mismatched magic. But when the good old Benevolence before me kicked the bucket …"

"In walked Bennie," I finish.

"You're so observant, Pride," Bennie say, sarcastically.

Josie clears her throat. "So, you truly haven't been to the other side of the Veil," she says, more a statement than a question.

A bee zooms past my head, its wings buzzing in my ear.

"For the eighth time, no. Not unless you count coming here."

Leo snorts. "She doesn't."

The bee flies between Imogen and me, lingering near the hair that cascades down her shoulder. I swat at it, and it flies away.

"Casimir isn't on the other side of capital-T, The Veil—the one that separates realms. So, it doesn't count," Josie says, ever the knowledgeable one. "It is, however, on the other side of a veil. There's ancient magic warding the castle. It's why we can shadow-walk within its confines, but not across the bridge."

"Look at miss smarty-pants over here with the technicalities," Bennie croons.

"I do my research," Josie says, a smug twist to her lips.

The bee zooms by my head again, this time evading my hand but staying persistent in its circling of my head.

"Maybe we should go back inside," I say. "I'm not a fan of bugs."

"Did you borrow one of Lust's perfumes?" Leo snickers. "We all know you don't have sweet enough blood to attract mosquitos."

"No," I say, rolling my eyes.

Bennie's eyes narrow on the bug.

"Hold on a second," he murmurs, standing and leaning forward with both hands planted on the table. Recognition flares in the form of a snarl. "Alexander."

Bennie throws his hand out, quicker than you'd think he could move with his bulk, snatching the bug straight from the air. He cups the insect between his hands and shakes. The four of us stare on, wide-eyed at the strange behavior.

He then chucks the bug; it hurtles through the air before transforming into a Seelie man.

The Seelie has the same coloring as Bennie, but is leaner in stature, his limbs gangly and uncoordinated, like he hasn't fully grown into manhood yet. Stumbling a few steps before righting himself, he runs a hand through his wavy brown hair, letting it fall messy over his brows.

"Anyone ever tell you eavesdropping isn't nice?" Bennie growls.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself." He doesn't sound sorry at all. "Father had me doing paperwork back in our rooms, but I wanted to sneak a peek at the soul-stealer." Alexander cocks his head at me with pursed lips. "I pictured you smaller."

"You would have met her tomorrow at the banquet," Bennie grinds out between clenched teeth.

It strikes me that there's a clear divide between the brothers.

Maybe he isn't in league with his father.

"I'm flattered that my presence is in such high demand." I interrupt the brother's bickering. "But we just finished up our game of cards, otherwise I'd invite you to sit."

I spread back into my chair. Men always hate it when I take up more space than I need. But all I'm doing is mimicking them.

"Though, maybe that would be ill advised, considering it seems your family has a strange obsession with me." I turn to Imogen. "Lust, do you think I should be concerned?"

Imogen's lips quirk, sensing my playful show of dominance. "I don't think so—at least not for this one. What is he going to do? Shift back to a bee and sting you?"

"What else can you shift into, Alexander?" I ask. "I've always wanted to pet a dragon."

Alexander scoffs. "You can't shift into things that aren't real ."

He's young, hot-headed. I want to see what he'll do when provoked. Play along. I broadcast to Josie in my head. I trust that she's listening.

"Actually, I read once that a powerful Seelie, about two millennia ago, was able to transform himself into a wyvern. Little different from a dragon, but close enough," Josie adds, not missing a beat.

"It's okay if you're not that powerful," I say, waving a hand in the air nonchalantly.

Bennie snorts and Alexander glares at us all as he puffs out his chest.

"I'll have you know that—" Alexander yelps as Bennie flicks his forehead.

"You need to leave. Or I'll be telling father that you snuck out," Bennie says, all humor and snark gone from his tone. It's clear that this is him pulling rank on his brother. " Now ."

Alexander bristles but doesn't challenge his older brother.

As quickly as he appeared, he shifts in a flash of white light; a dragonfly hums where his body once stood. It pauses, hovering in the air, before zooming off towards an open window above us.

I click my tongue, standing from the table and pulling on my suit jacket.

"Nobody likes secrets, Bennie," I tut, buttoning the jacket over my vest. "Except for those that keep them."

Bennie scratches the back of his neck. "Alexander isn't so much a secret as he is a liability."

I hum.

Imogen, Josie, and Leo follow my lead as we extract ourselves from the table. The metal chairs scrape against the garden stone as we push them back into place.

Bennie's quiet as we clean up, but when I pass him, he grabs my arm, pulling me to a stop. My heart pounds in my chest at the contact, so strong that my pulse throbs all the way down to my fingertips.

"Come to the revelry tonight. My father never attends, and Alexander is too young, they won't let him in," he says in a rushed whisper. "I need to speak freely with you."

"Are you a fool? Don't touch me." I rip my arm from his grasp.

"It's important." His eyes beg me to heed him. They shine with an all too familiar persistence. "You can trust me, Elenora."

My body goes still. The last time I heard my full name in use, it came from my mother's lips.

No. That's not true.

That honor was stolen by Patience the day he murdered her.

"You don't get to call me that," I snarl. "You can't tell us your little family sob stories and expect me to trust you. You're Seelie. And I only just met you."

"You and I both know that me being Seelie has nothing to do with your distrust for me," Benevolence says.

"It has everything to do with it," I snap. "Don't push your luck, Bennie ."

I storm off, boots pounding against the cobblestone.

"Come see me tonight," he calls at my back. "You'll want to hear what I have to say."