Chapter 10

T wo days later, the Thibodeaux Castle was alive, or that’s how the massive home appeared to me. Downstairs, the staff were engrossed with cleaning and cooking to their heart’s content while Del and I hid out for as long as we could in my enchantment room. We were camping out until the dinner was ready. According to the clock Del brought for me, it was almost time for the dreaded event. I couldn’t bring myself to mention to Del that I had no desire to be around the Royal Families tonight.

My leg bounced along with the soft ticking of the clock. Del finally had enough, placing her hand on my leg, settling the fidgeting limb.

“Will you stop twitching! You’re making me nervous, and I’m just a server!”

I threw her a weak smile to reassure her I just wouldn’t mention that my inner wrist was bruised from me digging my nails into the soft flesh. The faint churn of my stomach had me sucking down more air than usual.

Clearing my throat, “I’m not nervous. I just want this night to be over, and we can plan to visit Houston tomorrow.”

Del was in her white shirt and emerald skirt. The white apron was thrown over her chair, along with the black polished loafers. Her thick white socks were folded down by her ankles. Del’s hair was slicked back in a tight bun with no hair out of place, just like my parents liked it.

Del’s eyes narrowed at me as she slipped on the apron and shoes.

“Yeah, right, Kaydian. We’ve known each other for way too long for you to hide your feelings from me.” She crossed her arms and fixed an annoyed look at me. “Come off of it, Kaydian. You have been acting strange lately. One minute, you're optimistic, then next, you’re a million miles away in your head.”

“It’s…” Should I lie and tell her something to gloss over the fact that my extraneous voice has reappeared? I chewed on my bottom lip and spilled everything to my best friend.

“It’s already started, Del. The curse has been slowly beginning to take over.” I paused, letting the words sink in. The rocks in my stomach weighed a ton as the silence between us stretched out. “I have been hearing the voice in my head since the new year started, and it’s gotten worse these past couple of weeks. I’m losing my strength to fight it, Del, and I fear I will meet the same fate as Angela. Youna has decided to end her line with me.”

Del was speechless. So, I continued my one witch tirade with my tears staining my face, “I won’t get to see you mated. I won’t get to tell my future heir all about our crazy childish adventures or about the competitions we used to have. We won’t get to travel the world like we wanted to. And I won’t get to do the one thing I was born to do, rule. It’s over, Del. If I don’t find my mate tonight, it’s over for me.”

Del’s eyes narrowed as her mouth dropped open through my latest confession. What does she think? I could only imagine. She was losing me as much as I was losing her. My shoulders unclenched from my ears when I ended with the plans for tonight.

Why do we care what this common witch thinks?

The soft whoosh filled the room as Del flopped down in her chair. Her sniffles followed closely afterward, snuffing out the curse. I would have joined her slight sob party if I had any more tears. But I couldn’t because I’ve cried every night since I started preparing for my curse. I think I’ve surpassed the witch’s tears limit for a lifetime.

“Kaydian,” her voice sounded shaky. “We’ll figure something out. I mean your mother?—”

“Del, this cannot leave this room.” My head swiveled toward her with tear-filled eyes pleading with Del. “…I just want to make as many memories as possible before I can’t recognize myself anymore.”

Del just nodded, her face lined with the salty remains of her tears.

“I’ll keep it for now, but you should—need to tell her. Maybe she has some Cliff Fieldcress! That could help until you find someone.”

I loved Delphine’s enthusiasm, but it was going to waste on me. The tiny sparkling glimmer of hope had long since dried up and died.

Even though my sadness was stabbed at my lonely heart. “It’s okay, Del. I think I just need time to adjust to my new life.”

I’ve seen what the severance could do as I remembered my mother missing her weekly cup. It was uncanny seeing my mother once fight the staff until she beheaded all five of them. Her tiny body was lithe as she hammered into the staff with her fist and her magic. Luckily, after an hour of fighting, they got the tea down my mother’s throat… and that was three weeks right after my father left for a two-month mission with the European Coven.

I looked at the tiny brown round clock. “It’s time to go down.”

We left the tiny room with a deep sigh and a feeble promise to fix me. Can I be fixed? Or was this all a punishment for trying to flee the goddess’s fate?

Who knows at this point?

What I knew was I was dreading this night, and honestly, I wished I could sneak away with Del so we could stuff our faces with food and cry.

But by the time my heels hit the bottom floor, I knew there would be no escaping. If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t have been able to tell the color of the walls. Since every inch of the white walls had a royal or their family plastered against it as they waited. A sea of each coven’s colors and their crest filled the hallway. Some were true royals from our goddess ancestors, and some were made Royal Coven members for their unwavering loyalty.

Straighten your back, Kaydian.

Tugging on my billowy sleeves, I made my way through the sea of gold crowns, necklaces, rings, and, for some, gem-encrusted canes decorated the covens’ leaders. The African, European, Oceania, and the Asian royals chattered away. Everyone was in attendance except for the Middle Eastern coven, who preferred the sanctuary of their village. I couldn’t blame them either. These parties were more for showcasing their wealth and gossiping.

Smile, but don’t smile too much.

My head nodded with my simple greetings to the royals. All fake smiles. I avoided being pulled into a conversation for them to just overwhelm me with their sad-looking heirs that looked too young and uneager to be here. The sentiment was mutual. None of the “Royal” heirs seemed halfway pleasant, and I would rather go back to the old home in Frenchtown than entertain the dour-faced heirs. But as the children of the royals, we were supposed to be present and represent our respective covens with honor.

Too caught up with escaping one heir with a mole the size of Texas on the tip of his cheek with three hairs sticking out of it that made me shudder, I collided with a hard body, causing me to lose my footing. A pair of rough hands reached out, grabbing my arms and saving me from falling to the ground.

“Some things never change, I see,” the Stentorian voice said, causing me to flinch from the loud obtrusion. “Still clumsy as shit.”

The voice belonged to the last person I wanted to speak with, let alone bump into. Victoria Muller, the third and the weakest descendant of the Royals, stood before me. Her red hair was a disheveled, matted mess and shoved in what one could—would call a bun. She wore a tweed yellow suit of her family’s color, with black sandals. Her silver jewelry stuck out against her skin, which always reminded me of the blue jays during the spring. Victoria was someone I stayed far away from because, for one, she was a mixling. An anomaly to our kind, as their genetics were a tossup between being normal or unhinged insanity. It was illegal in our coven but not in the others as they waited to see if the mixling would become trouble or remain normal.

Not for us, though. My father made sure Victoria was someone we kept at arm’s length at all costs and was only granted clearance to step inside our territory because of Sir Cross, my father’s favorite royal, beside my mother. Our coven couldn’t handle being shunned by Sir Cross’s coven since they were more powerful than us.

Victoria had always been, how one would say, neurotic, to say the least. I blamed her demon mother.

Sir Henry Muller was the descendant of Juna, goddess of judgment. So much of that judgment superiority, seeing as Victoria’s father had fallen in “love” with a blue demon that he followed to the underworld. No one but Sir Muller, and I guess Victoria, knows the all the events of their time in the underworld. Word is he begged Sir Cross to be placed back onto his family’s seat in the coven when he returned with, to everyone’s surprise, a baby in tow. Sir Cross wasn’t a fool; he made him a deal, and he’s been stuck to Sir Cross’s side ever since. Much to my father’s dismay, since he’s given himself the title of Sir Cross’s best friend and his third in command, which was downright ridiculous.

“Are you alright, Princess Kaydian?” Sir Muller said as he joined us. His British accent billowed over the chatter in the hallway.

He had on a ridiculous loose-fitting yellow suit with the brightest yellow shoes known to witches. His typical brown, stringy hair was pulled tight into a ponytail, which highlighted his thin edges. Sir Muller’s pudgy stomach greeted everyone before him. There was a soft, rosy color to his pale cheeks, and if it was possible, his British accent was even thicker than I remembered.

“Good evening, Sir Muller.” I threw him and Victoria some pity. “It was a pleasure?—”

“I hoped that you and Victoria would spend some time catching up,” Sir Muller said as he pushed Victoria’s thin frame into mine. As if she hadn’t just knocked me down a moment ago. I think that constitutes enough time I’ve spent with the deranged demon. Looking around the hall, I noticed several royals watching our interaction as they lined up with their heirs for a chance of speaking with me.

“Well, Sir Mueller, as much fun as that sounds like, I think my parents will have me occupied all night.”

“It’s okay, little dragoness. We’ll catch up later,” Victoria said with a wide smile. Her crude yellow-blackened molars stole the show as it drew my attention. The hair on my arms rose. I couldn’t help but think how her teeth might feel when she ran her tongue against them. That was enough to make me jump.

If I didn’t leave this hallway, I feared I would transport everyone to the dark dragon woods and let Sera freeze everyone to death. My lips clamped together to surpass the sigh I wanted to let out. The night hadn’t even started, and I was ready to call it quits.

Mr. Muller seemed not happy with the response. He pleaded, “Well, maybe you can escort my lovely Victoria to the dining area.”

His stubby hands latched onto Victoria’s slender wrist and shoved the blue appendage in front of me. It all clicked into place. Sir Muller wanted me to touch Victoria. Witches believed that touch was our greatest sense since we release energy whenever we do so, and in return, that energy either returns to you or creates a bond. A fated bond.

That’s how my mother explained it when she spoke about the first time my father presented as her mate.

I threw Sir Muller a lifeline, even though I had already touched Victoria before. He needed proof, or he wouldn’t let me breathe for the rest of the evening. My hand reached out to touch Victoria’s hand. Her skin was like the back of an alligator, bumpy and rough. Without a second thought, I tried to snatch my hand away, but Victoria was strong as she gripped mine. She brought the back of my hand to her mouth and kissed it. Petrified, I stood paralyzed until she released my hand. Even though her lips were gone from my skin, I could feel her wet saliva that coated my skin. I looked up to see Sir Muller's thin lips pulled into a straight line as his pale face flushed red with his brown eyes narrowed. He was about to say something, maybe even curse me out, when my father’s voice rang out over the noise in the hallway.

“Kaydian!” I turned to see my father call me. “There you are. Your mother and I have been waiting for you.”

Saved by my father!

I excused myself from an irate Sir Muller and Victoria, whose creepy smile never left her taunt face. She is the prime example of why my family banned mixing with other supernaturals. The risk of the offspring becoming demented wasn’t worth it. Victoria was lucky to still function as some of the offspring in our history went hysterical. I still remember when my father told me about the ones he had to kill. Many of them became demented, often wandering the human streets, usually abandoned by their family, naked and threatening to kill the humans with their unstable magic.

When we entered the dining room, warm cinnamon spice and aroma from the serving tables tugged at my heart. The wooden table was decorated with new red and white table decorations along with the gold plate and drink ware. White food tables lined each side of the room, filled to the brim with tempting food as the off-white tea lights hovered above the dimly lit room, highlighting the fresco ceiling honoring the eight goddesses, with Youna front and center. Each seat had nameplates according to the Royals’ coven colors and names.

Ms. Kincaid bustled along the busy room, rounding up the guests as I took my place beside my mother. My father’s seat was placed next to hers. But everyone knew who the Royal was as she had on her crown and her chair was lined with the fake emeralds. She had on a long-sleeved emerald velvet dress that fit her trim body. Her inky black curls were straightened and placed into a bun with nothing out of place. I wouldn’t expect anything differently. My father matched us as he dawned on his emerald three-piece suit. His hair had been cut this week in another short style, and he wore a smile as wide as the Mississippi River on his slim face. This was his forte. You can tell by the glint in his eyes whenever the flame from the tea lights flickered his way that Father couldn’t wait to start his typical cajole.

The soft chatter from the remaining Royals filled the room. The wait staff pulled out their seats. One by one, the colorful nameplates wavered, flickered, and disappeared as their respective individual found their seat.

“Oy, if it isn’t my favorite princess,” Sir Cross said as he flopped down into the dining chair. The enormous piano that played my mother’s favorite piano tunes, a variety of soft, uplifting melodies, covered the high-pitched screech of his chair. “And the most amazing queen this side of the ocean.”

“You’re in a good mood, Sir Cross.” My mother took a sip of her Fae wine.

“You’re buttering them up already, my friend.” My dad looked like a child whose long-lost friend had returned home. I suppose that would be kind of correct.

“Well, teleporting this far away always swipes some of my power, but looking at your gorgeous face is enough to feel reinvigorated. Being in the queen's presence lifted my magic,” Sir Cross teased.

Searching the room, Del stood by the serving table. Her white and emerald-suited staff stood out against the now fully bright red walls. Her face was blank as she peered out the window until the main course was ready to be served to her Royal, who was the African Coven’s queen, for the night. Del took a quick glance my way, and I winked at her before she returned to stare longingly out the window. A hint of pink colored her cheeks as she tried her best not to look at me.

My father had long since hijacked the conversation as my mother and I exchanged a glance with each other. For the first time since I stepped on the tile floor, I smiled. Why? Each server brought golden plates filled with my weaknesses. My plate was stuffed with a pork chop, collard greens, gumbo on the side in a bowl, and shrimp étouffée with white rice. My mouth watered as the steaming plate of food aroma clouded my brain. I wanted to fit everything onto my fork and funnel the hot food into my mouth, but I thought better of it as I peered at my mother, who joined the conversation about the growing tension between the supernaturals in our area with my father, Sir Cross, Sir Sladen, and Sir Muller.

“Sir Cross, where is Prince Liam? It would have been wonderful to see him again. It’s been a couple of years since he showed his face here,” my mother asked as Ms. Kincaid refilled my mother’s glass with wine.

Liam Cross was Sir Cross’s only heir. From what I remembered, he was the polar opposite of his father. He was portly and soft-spoken, unlike his father. His bowl-cut blonde hair framed his chubby face. Liam resembled the Michelin man from the human tire company advertisements I’ve seen around Houston. He was a strange little boy, that one. Del and I would have to be scarce whenever he visited because he would follow us around like a lost puppy, with his light amber eyes lined with red flecks. That was before Sir Cross’s mate died. The pair used to frequent the castle regularly; that all changed once Queen Evelyn was captured and killed by one of Sir Cross’s enemies when I was twelve. I still remember the way Sir Cross and Liam cried in front of everyone, which was unheard of in our coven, but the European Coven was very open with their emotions. We never knew to what extent. My parents and I sat there while we squirmed in our seats at Sir Cross’s open show of affection.

I always wondered how he managed not to lose himself to the separation period.

“Oh, you know Liam has always been a free spirit like his mother.” He closed his bright brown eyes and placed his hand over his heart. If we hadn’t known better, I would have said he was having a heart attack.

“Oh, com’ off of it, Cross!” Sir Sladen’s croaky voice called out. “You’re always so dramatic. You definitely have Zadia’s spirit in you.”

Sir Sladen was a cranky brute. I couldn’t even call him a man. His thin hair had streaks of black that clashed with the white. He was diminutive and his black eyes reminded me of Sir Reid’s, just like his progenitor, Thetris, Goddess of War. So, I had to give him respect. Plus, he gave Sir Reid a run for his money, which was saying a lot since Sir Reid’s family trained with the goddesses, and their technique was passed down the Reid line. Although he could rule his own Royal Coven, he joined the Europe Coven to govern the area.

“You’re just cranky because your mate couldn’t come.” Sir Cross finally opened his brown eyes with unshed tears. Sir Sladen rolled his stormy eyes. The servers had traded the large gold platters for a small red plate with creole bread pudding with bourbon.

Everyone around the Royal’s table had grown used to the tears, almost paying Sir Cross no mind when he starts on his emotional trip down memory lane. Deep down, I was jealous of Evelyn. The clock dinging brought me back to the table, which I was lucky to only have caught the tail end of their conversation.

“…Eh, what secrets are you hiding, Sir Sladen?” my father teased as he tried to lighten the mood.

“The same as you, my friend, unless you already told your mate about that trip you took with Sir Muller to the underworld years ago?” Sir Sladen dragged his fork against the empty dessert plate. The sound made the hairs on my arms stand. He was a notorious shit starter, and if anyone was brave enough to go up against Sir Cross, he would surely be the one.

Oh hell! as I watched my father become flustered at the slip. As if I didn’t have enough on my plate already. And I definitely didn’t want my mother to find out I was dragged there with him.

“What do you mean, Sir Sladen?” My mother’s lips thinned out, and I knew she was angry by the arch in her left eyebrow. “My mate has never been to the underworld. I would never approve of that.”

Sir Muller and Sir Sladen peered at each other. The room had gone silent as the tension thickened the sweet air. My mother’s emerald eyes hadn’t left the side of my father’s face. The clacking of the gold fork hitting the plate rebounded around the room. My mother’s magic was unseen to everyone but could be felt seeing as her emotions were getting the best of her. Glancing around the room, the Royals and their heirs gawked at my mother. This was probably the first time they felt the fervid magic as strong as ours. Our family was the second oldest and strongest under Sir Cross’s, much to my father’s dismay. Her magic wrapped around the room, hugging and squeezing the room air as it sent chills down my spine.

My mother turned her attention back to the now empty dessert plate. She reeled in the last of her magic and she sat back down. Her strained smile may have fooled the other Royals, but her emerald eyes said she would make sure my father heard her piece when it was all said and done.

If it was one thing my mother hated, it was being the butt of a joke, and he had turned her into one tonight. My father’s once gleeful face was ashen as he tried to smile and laugh at the awkward tension in the room.

“It was a quick trip and nothing of importance,” he tried to whisper, but my father was the worst at lowering his voice. “Just a minor run to secure something down there.”

“I’m sure,” my mother replied. Looking at Sir Muller and Sir Sladen. “Did you go with him? It’s dangerous for us Royals. Let alone someone who’s not of royal blood.”

Sir Muller turned the same color as the red ornaments.

“I think—” Sir Muller stuttered. He’s always been afraid of my mother ever since they were young children, and my mother set his hair on fire during the winter harvest. He deserved it since he was spying on the event that was meant for the female coven members only.

My father waved the server over to refill the Fae wine. The color returned to his dark skin.

“It was a harmless trip we took, my love,” my father said. I don’t even think he realized the mistake he made, probably from all the Fae wine. “We were in and out in an hour.”

My mother’s eyes widened as they pinned me to my chair. What would my mother do in this situation? It seemed like trouble always went out of its way to find and harass me. Her mouth twitched, and I knew she wished everyone would leave so she could tell my father off. My mouth opened to apologize and to make things right, but she beat me to it.

“I’m just glad you’re alive. Most witches, royal or not, don’t make it back out alive.” She reached out and grabbed my clammy hands under the table, giving it a slight squeeze. Even though her eyes still didn’t shine when the smile returned to her face.

And until this very day, I still have no clue why my father went down to the underworld. Every opportunity I had to ask about the spontaneous trip was met with a shrug and smile with a lie on the tip of his tongue that always followed with, “I love you.”

Now, I wondered as I watched my mother hold the dessert knife so tight that her palms turned a dark red. If that, too, was a lie.

“Well, who said a royal dinner was boring?” Sir Cross said. His pudgy stomach danced as he chuckled.

The bread pudding tasted heavy in my mouth as everyone went back to their conversation except for my mother and me. Looking over at Del, she gave me a worried glance as I held my hand to stop the tremor that racked my body. The worst part is, I couldn’t even tell my mother what my father dragged me to the underworld for since he lied to me. My father promised to spend my fifteenth birthday with me in Paris, but imagine my surprise when he shuttled me to the gates that had been guarded to prevent demons from traveling between the underworld and the human world. The icing on the cake was when he left me in a room that made me shiver for hours while he was shuttled away. When we eventually made it out, he made me seal the portal with blood. My blood. It took weeks for me to get rid of the frigid chill from being watched.

Was it paranoia? Maybe.