Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

H aunting music floats through a heavy set of oak doors. Two guards dressed in blue coats flank the doors to the banquet hall. One of them raps his staff, and the doors groan open, wood scraping over stone. In my beautiful new dress, I take a step into the gothic-arched doorway.

As I stand in the entrance, a guard slams his staff against the stone floor. "Miss Nia Vaillancourt, guest of His Royal Highness, Prince Talan, has arrived."

In the castle's vast banquet hall, every bright, glittering Fey eye turns my way. The haunting hum of the music fades to silence. Dozens of crystal goblets pause mid-sip as the drinkers stare at me. Moonlight flows in from towering stained-glass windows with images of winged creatures and forest scenes, and the kaleidoscope of light glints off the guests' heavy jewels.

This hall is the size of a basketball court, with soaring carved stone columns that stretch to a high ceiling. A small orchestra sits in a corner, their bows stilled. Two long banquet tables line the longest walls, with a third connecting them, far at the other side of the hall. Light from candelabras sends gold flickering over a sea of elegant Fey faces, flower crowns, gossamer dresses, and rich brocade jackets.

I take a deep breath. I'm deep in enemy territory. A place I absolutely do not belong.

My heels clack over the flagstones as I cross inside, and my heart pounds while I scan their faces. Spies thrive in the shadows, and here I am, drawing attention like a firefly in the night.

Clearly, the rumors have spread about me.

All eyes are on me—including Talan's. At the center of the tables, on the far side of the hall, he's lounging in a chair. His rings and lopsided crown gleam in the candlelight. He wears a black jacket with silver buttons that sleekly fits his muscular body.

For the benefit of the crowd, he's giving me a smoldering look. His dark gaze sweeps down my body to take in the sheer material, jaw set tightly in contrast to his indolent pose. I know his expression is just a performance, but I suddenly feel acutely aware of my body.

A cool draft whispers over my skin through the translucent fabric of star-woven silk. I take a step closer, and the fabric against my thighs feels like a soft caress. Some in the crowd shift their attention to him, watching him as he stares at me. His gaze brushes up my body again, then locks on my face.

I have no idea where I'm supposed to sit. There's one empty chair next to Talan, but I assume that's for the king. This is a level of royal protocol that I didn't learn at Avalon Tower.

I raise my chin, smiling, and I cross behind one of the tables, heading for Talan.

A murmur ripples over the room.

I keep my eyes on the prince. He's still striking a louche pose, slightly slouched in his chair. There's something truly luxuriant about how comfortable he is in his own body. And when he turns and arches an eyebrow at me, his expression is searing. The torchlight dances in his dark eyes like matches burning in the night.

I flutter my fingers in a little wave at him, and I can feel whispers ripping over the crowd of Fey.

As Talan beckons me with a sultry smile, I exhale with relief.

At least I know where to walk now. The music starts to swell again, but I can still feel everyone's eyes on me with every step.

When I reach Talan, he pulls me into his lap. He sits in a chair large enough to be a throne, and he drapes one of his arms around my waist. I find myself acutely aware of the steely muscles beneath his velvety suit and of the heat radiating from his hand through my thin dress, onto my skin.

From his lap, I cast a look around the banquet hall. As far as the Fey nobility are concerned, I'm a paradox. Thanks to Jasper, I'm wearing the finest clothes, a style and fabric reserved for the upper echelon of the Fey world. The most expensive jewels in the hall. And yet, impossibly, they don't know who I am. I am a commoner. A nobody. They're not used to envying people like me.

I suppose that's why the gossip keeps spreading—the story about how Talan ordered me onto all fours to fuck me in the dirt. It takes the sting off their jealousy.

I glance at him for just a second, and he gives me a wicked smile. "Where did I find you?"

If I didn't know what he was really like, I might even be charmed by him.

I give him my best flirty look, biting my lip, playing along. I pick up his goblet of mead and take a sip, simpering at him over the rim.

One half of me feels the tangible chill of being unwelcome—the commoner so sexually bewitching that a prince has invited her into the sacred court of Perillos. No one likes an interloper. The other half of me can only focus on the feel of his hand on my waist through the sheer fabric. And when his thumb brushes over my skin, my blood heats. Sometimes, the mind doesn't know the things the body does.

Talan's fingers stroke slowly up and down. "Nia, you look delicious tonight. I can almost taste you."

His voice is low but still loud enough that the people around us can hear him. All part of the performance.

I lift my chin and smile at him. "Thank you. You, too."

My pulse races, breath quickening. My body only knows that his scent is intoxicating, and he looks like a fucking Adonis.

I turn from the intensity of his expression to scan the room again, and he lets his hand rest casually by my hipbone, his forearm just below my belly.

To my relief, I actually see a friendly face at the far end of the table: Nivene, my alleged sister, was apparently invited to the palace, too.

I turn my head toward Talan, whispering, "You invited my sister here."

"I thought she belonged at court with you."

This is brilliant. We were planning to find a way for me to invite her over, but I was hoping I planted enough hints for the prince to do it himself. And it worked.

I catch her eye and wave.

She sits with the lowliest of the guests: the rich merchants and bankers who occasionally get invited to the palace, those without a drop of aristocratic blood. She's chatting with her neighbor, a thin man with spectacles. She waves back at me.

A guard standing by the large golden double doors slams his staff three times on the floor. The sound echoes around the room. The low murmuring in the hall fades to silence, and everyone turns to look at the doors. The only one who seems completely relaxed at this point is Talan, who lifts his goblet, signaling for a servant to bring us more mead.

The doors open, and King Auberon steps into the hall.

He does look a bit like Talan, though not half as beautiful. He has the same strong jawline and dark eyes, the same tan skin and high cheekbones, but his face is fuller, his hair lighter. Long and braided in some places, his brown hair flows over his black cloak. A platinum crown gleams on his head, and unlike Talan's, it's perfectly balanced.

The sight of him makes my blood run cold.

Everyone in the hall stands, as do I. While the servant refills his goblet, Talan stands last, languidly rising with a heavy sigh, as if he can't be bothered. He slides his hand around my waist again—and given how much taller he is than me, his arm brushes just below my breasts. I glance up to see him taking a sip of his newly filled mead.

As the king marches closer, his coppery gaze cuts to me. His lip curls just slightly.

Talan's already done with the formality of standing, and he pulls me into his lap again, arm draped below my belly. His thumb brushes over my hipbone.

"This is your new friend, Talan? I trust you examined her thoroughly before you brought her into our presence." The king's voice booms over the hall, and he somehow makes it sound like the filthiest double entendre.

Laughter ripples through the room, ringing out like delicate chimes, and Talan's fingers tighten around me, as if he were actually protective of me.

The king crosses to his throne, the chair next to Talan and me. Goosebumps rise on my skin. This is probably the closest an Avalon agent has ever been to the king of the Fey.

Before sitting, Auberon grabs the back of the throne, and he cuts a sharp look at Talan. "If only Prince Lothyr could be with us tonight."

Talan's muscles tense as silence fills the hall, but he doesn't show much of a reaction. He merely takes another sip from his wineglass.

Auberon rakes his gaze around the hall. "We have been at war for decades. First, we defeated the forest dwellers who tried to overthrow my rule. Now, we fight against humans and half-breeds. Our enemies are all around us. So, I demand that if you see any signs of treason, of espionage, conspiracy, or sedition, you must inform my King's Watch immediately. Anyone caught shielding traitors or concealing secrets from the Watch…well, I don't need to tell you about the gruesome consequences, do I?"

He pauses, allowing that to sink in, then resumes. "We are here to enjoy our feast. And I trust you know that everything I do is to protect the peace and safety of the realm. I alone can keep you safe from the human scourge that cursed our land after they tried to starve us with their manmade famine. I alone can keep your families fed. But you must trust in your king and tell my Watch what you learn. If you see the dull, deformed appearance of a demi-Fey hiding in our kingdom, turn him in. Help me protect you. Here in Brocéliande, we have no sanctuary for enemies of the Fey."

The guests break into a round of applause, and a few people call out, "Here, here!"

I focus on breathing normally.

I can practically feel the power crackling from the king. As he sits on the throne, the rest of the guests sit as well.

The prince lifts his goblet. "His Majesty, my father, and esteemed guests. You may have noticed this jewel I have discovered."

I steal a glance at Auberon's expression. He is staring directly ahead, his face frozen like a statue, mouth flattened into a thin line.

He knows that Talan is about to fuck with him, doesn't he?

Talan raises his glass higher. "I would like to raise a toast to the enchanting Nia Vaillancourt of Lauron, whom I had the fortune to meet while on a hunting trip. I have invited her to Perillos as a companion and dear friend. Truly, her wit and beauty are unmatched in Corbinelle and I daresay in all of Brocéliande. Miss Vaillancourt graces us with her beauty, and we are all the richer for it. Let us celebrate our stunning new guest at court, to whom I pledge my eternal devotion."

Low muttering rumbles around the room, and people whisper behind their hands.

A beautiful silver-haired woman is glaring at me, her cheeks pink, lips pressed tightly together with fury. Jewels gleam from her throat and dangle from her ears. An angry flush has spread over her chest. When I see people looking her way, it doesn't take the skill of a trained spy to know that she must be Countess Arwenna Blythe.

It was bad enough that I was a farm girl sitting in his lap, but now he just called me an unmatched beauty.

A half-smile graces Talan's lips. "Now, we are here to be merry, are we not?"

My throat goes dry. Those closest to me—the nobles whose seats are close to the king's—all stare at me with naked hostility. I'm sure that the billion-dollar necklace at my throat isn't helping. These are the highest-ranking aristocrats, the dukes and earls. Here I am, out of nowhere, a threat to their influence on the prince. Minutes ago, they could comfort themselves with the image of him fucking me in the dirt in front of his soldiers. I was a whore with expensive baubles. But the public compliments? The pledge of eternal devotion? That changed the game. I may be a mistress, but he's now elevated me above Arwenna.

Down at the far edge of the table, the expressions are more calculating. The lesser nobles and merchants are wondering if they can somehow leverage this surprising development in their favor. Some of them are eying Nivene with renewed interest, suddenly realizing that she and I must be somehow related.

The only one who shows no reaction to my introduction is the king himself. He stares stonily ahead, not sparing either his son or me a single glance.

Talan raises his goblet higher. "I am sure you all wish my dear friend and I the best."

I smile at the banquet hall.

The guests clap and raise their glasses, but no one cheers or even smiles. Talan is the only one here willing to risk his father's wrath.

Dread crawls over my skin as I think of the danger I'm in now. Surely the king wants me dead.

Talan's arm slides around my waist, and his lips brush over my cheek. Heat radiates from the place where his mouth makes contact with my skin. With a hitch of my breath, I realize how much he relishes the chaos he just created.

I turn to him, nestling in closer. "How much trouble am I in?"

I feel the muscles of his forearms flex against my belly. His lips brush the shell of my ear, and the warmth of his breath kisses my skin. "Careful, darling."

His thumb rubs my hip again like he's trying to soothe me.

I feel as if his magic is radiating from that point of contact, tingling over my skin.

"It might seem like no one is listening," he whispers, "but some of our guests are very talented at reading lips, and others' hearing is enhanced magically. So, if you want to talk about how I fucked you hard up against the wall on the way here, now is not the time."

I get his meaning clearly enough.

The serving staff place endless dishes in front of us. There's a plate of enormous oysters, each one served with the pearl, and roasted carrots, buttery bread, cheese and berries, and roasted boar. I eat, perched on Talan's lap, taking just enough sips of mead that I don't look suspicious. But I'm not here to get drunk.

The tension in the hall washes over us like a cold fog, chilling me. Even with delicious food like this, it's a grim atmosphere for a banquet.

My gaze sweeps between bites to look at the guests, memorizing their faces, remembering who they talk to. I file away every detail in the recesses of my mind. I try to figure everyone out based on what they're wearing and where they sit. I can guess their role, their place in this hierarchy. Those closest to the king are the most important, and Arwenna isn't far away. There are nineteen noble families, each with representatives in the king's advisory council. I believe that I've spotted four of them sitting around me, all glaring at me with obvious loathing. I think Talan's little ruse has fucked up the plans of many powerful people in Brocéliande.

Talan loosens his grip on me, then lifts me by the waist off his lap. He stands and raises his glass. "How could I forget? I have yet another announcement to make." A dark smile curls his lips.

My heart sinks. What now? This isn't an undercover relationship like one from Avalon Tower, because I have no idea what he's actually up to.

A sharp silence pierces the hall, broken only by the echo of Talan's shoes as he walks behind one of the wings of banquet tables. He prowls with lupine grace down to the end and stops just a few paces away from Nivene.

I hold my breath. There's a dangerous chill in the air.

All eyes are on Talan, and the air in the hall grows icy, darker. In all the candelabras in the room, the candlelight sputters. Talan drops the pretense of enjoying himself with me, and the look in his eyes is frigid as the air. Lethal. A shiver dances over my skin.

The hall is so silent, he doesn't need to speak loudly. "There is a traitor among us."