And Jack couldn’t blame her for that one bit.
Thinking of Osment had Jack glancing the man’s way. He was on the dance floor, Margot’s fingertips held properly in his own as they danced the minuet. No eye contact—no contact whatsoever, save that which was specifically required for the dance. And even that was done through gloves.
No wonder Margot distracted herself with drinking. And while Jack didn’t judge her for that, he had been counting her glasses of wine. It was never a bad idea to know how much alcohol a friend had in them at a party.
Margot was one of the most powerful people he knew, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t watch her back. Someone besides Ren had to. Margot was always taking care of other people while mainly receiving assaults on her power in return. It was a rough gig, and she definitely deserved a night off with friends looking out for her.
Heaven knew Osment wouldn’t.
The man was an utter waste of a husband who reportedly spent the bulk of his time gambling at parties like this, rather than getting to know his wife.
Margot said she didn’t care, but the drinking indicated otherwise.
Osment was married to one of the most amazing women on the planet but lived his life as if she didn’t even exist. Nine out of ten days, Jack forgot Osment existed, too. And when he did remember, all Jack wanted was a free pass to punch the future king in the face.
Because Margot definitely deserved better.
“I’m bored, too,” a female voice sighed into Jack’s ear, pulling him away from his dark thoughts. A glance at the empty seat next to the prince confirmed his suspicion that the fae adviser had just whispered in his ear.
Man, he hated faes.
Well … hate was a strong word, but he certainly wasn’t a fan of their unnatural ability to move undetected, whenever they were in the mood. They liked to put the propaganda out there that they were literally able to disappear from one spot and appear in the spot of their choosing in a blink, but Jack knew for a fact that they were human.
And humans couldn’t do that.
There had to be a trick to it. Once he learned it, Jack would happily never see another fae in his life. Nothing good happened when they showed up. Some ancient cultures thought death was on its way if a raven appeared, but Jack knew for sure that if a fae showed up somewhere, things were about to get colorful.
And if a lot of them showed up?
Watch out.
As far as the Royals were concerned, they were excellent spies who were well worth the price they asked. They were a bit like serial killers in that they wanted tokens of a moment, not money, as payment for their services.
Just one more bit of evidence that they were evil, as far as Jack was concerned.
But Prince Abed had chosen Tiki as one of his advisers, so Jack was stuck with this one for eight more hours … eight hours sharing space with an adult that had the attention span and impulse control of a toddler.
What had Prince Abed been thinking?
More than that, why had Tiki agreed?
Fae didn’t do anything they didn’t want to do, and Tiki definitely wasn’t having fun. So why was she sticking around?
Against his will, Jack was curious about that.
“Can’t be that bad,” he said. “You’re still here.”
Her reply was to flop down at his feet, arm melodramatically draped over her face. Her version of a Rococo dress was something more akin to what a steampunk Tinkerbelle might wear, and it covered as much as a tutu as she grumbled on the ground.
Jack directed his eyes back to the dance floor. One of them had to be decent.
“I’m waiting for the phoenix,” she pouted.
“Phoenix?” Jack said, resisting the urge to look back at the pouting puddle at his feet.
All of sudden, she was in his face. “You’ve seen it, right? Everyone says you have. What does it look like? How will I recognize it? I hear they smell like ash and moonbeams. Is that true?”
Per usual, Jack had no idea what the fae was talking about. “I can’t tell you. I’ve honestly never met one.”
The last phoenix had appeared when Jack was a child, and he had died long before Jack had been in a position to meet him. True to the mythology, they tended to burn bright, die hard, and somehow rise into something greater from their own ashes. They were rare—often entire generations passing without seeing one, although the past century had a noticeable uptick in frequency.
Still, Jack had heard no whispers of there being a new one.
Next to him, the fae let out a humph of annoyance. “That’s not what I heard.”
“Well, you heard wrong,” he said, keeping his eyes on the dance floor. Eye contact only encouraged faes—usually into mischief.
He’d take a hard pass on that.
“I never hear wrong. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Because Prince Abed asked you to be.”
She shook her head. “I’m here because I won the pot to take the spot to be the first to meet the phoenix everyone’s been whispering about. But all I see here are boring Royals prancing around like eighteenth-century white people. No phoenix in sight.”
Jack shrugged. “I’m sorry. But as far as I know, there are no plans for a phoenix to make an appearance tonight. In any form.”
“Gah!” Tiki groaned, flopping back onto the floor. “You’re such a mood killer. Claire ever tell you that?”
Jack grew still, hating that the fae knew Claire’s name. No good could come of that.
“Claire never tells me that.”
“Well, love is blind,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll give you that.”
It was so tempting to toss back a retort, but the cardinal rule of dealing with a fae was to never start an argument you didn’t want them to win.
Because they would. Every time.
So instead of replying, Jack deflected back to the original topic of interest. “Who told you a phoenix would be here tonight?”
“Malachi.”
Jack froze in alarm. Malachi? “Wait—”
“Ooh! This will be fun,” she said, then was gone.
Jack blinked, confirming the fae had indeed disappeared from his side before glancing at her designated seat. There she was—prince to her right, General Zao to her left—whispering into the boy’s ear as the prince’s eyes searched out something in the crowd and found it.
The herald’s staff sounded against the marble floor three times, drawing Jack’s attention away from the exchange.
“His Majesty welcomes Augustus of the South,” the herald called out, as a six-foot-eight ebony-skinned goliath stepped to the base of the throne’s stairs and dropped to one knee in his faintly peach suit. Jack could have never pulled the color off, but Augustus looked more formidable somehow—even taking a knee.
On any other day, the man would be introduced as King Augustus. But, per tradition for the Day of Anemone, he’d left his title at the door.
“Rise, Augustus,” Prince Abed said, his hand gesture mirroring his words.
The ebony man rose to his full height, gesturing to a servant behind him. “I bring a puzzle to His Highness on his Day of Anemone.”
A puzzle? This was Jack’s wheelhouse.
It was show time.
“I do love puzzles, fair Augustus,” the boy said. “Please proceed.”
The servant stepped forward with the box.
“This puzzle box has been in my family for generations,” Augustus said with reverence. “It is said that only those who are taught may open it.”
Jack smiled, more than ready for the challenge. He’d never met a puzzle box he hadn’t solved. Quickly.
“I have placed something inside—”
“A knife,” Tiki said from her seat, sounding bored.
Augustus frowned at being interrupted. “I beg your pardon?”
All eyes moved to Tiki as she held up an ornate dagger. “A knife.” She wiggled the blade in her hand. “This knife. That’s what you put in there
. It’s empty now.”
When Augustus eyed the knife incredulously from afar, the fae threw it at his face—the blade spiraling through the air with blurring speed. The king caught it with ease, opening up his hand and studying what he found there.
Then he looked at his servant. “Give me the chest.”
Disappointment swirled with confusion as Jack watched Augustus execute a few unseen moves that unlocked the box.
Sure enough, it was empty.
Everyone looked at Tiki.
“How…?” Augustus started to ask, then stopped himself and bowed to the prince. “I see His Highness has chosen keen advisers.”
Keen. That’s one way of saying it, Jack thought as he did his best not to glare Tiki’s direction. They were supposed to help the prince succeed, yes, but not to the point of insulting his guests.
Insulting kings.
There was something to be said for having an ounce of propriety.
Tiki could have at least pretended to let them solve it real-time. It might be selfish, but Jack couldn’t help feeling a little let down that he hadn’t even been able to examine the box. He loved new puzzles almost as much as he hated the fae. Apparently, combining those two things didn’t skew things in the direction of making a fae more tolerable.
For beings that chased fun, they sure knew how to kill it for everyone else.
If Tiki planned on doing this all night, then Jack might need to join Margot in downing a few glasses of wine, because this was going to be a long night.
“Thank you for your thoughtful challenge, Augustus,” Prince Abed said. “I do hope you enjoy my party.”
The African king tilted his head in respect. “It is a diverting reminder of an extravagant era, Your Grace. Well chosen.”
The boy and the man tilted their chins to each other before Augustus moved back to the main floor.
“Seriously,” Tiki said, suddenly at Jack’s side again. “So bored.”
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 8
Claire
In a lucky turn of events, no cardio was required for Claire to reach the top of the palace steps. The building had an elevator—operated entirely by pulley systems and manpower.
And, boy oh boy, did those men-in-black have some power.
When the elevator doors opened at the top, views of mountain ranges were replaced with ornate, arched ceilings lined with gold filigree. Classical music filled the open space, making it seem welcoming, rather than ominous.
Off to their right, light glowed out from a doorway that must have been thirty feet tall. Above the door, a juniper green banner hung with a silver diamond sewn into it.
Two men dressed in green suits intercepted them as she and Malachi moved into the space, the guards’ body language both blocking and greeting at the same time.
“My Lord,” they both said, bowing deeply to Malachi before straightening and offering Claire a more modest tip of their heads.
“Invitations, if you please,” said the guard closer to Malachi, holding out his white-gloved hand expectantly.
Malachi pulled a large envelope and handed it to the guard. The man took it, breaking its green, wax seal and reading the invitation before casting a wary glance at Claire and stepping to the side.
“May we take your cloaks?” the man closest to Claire asked, and Malachi answered for them with an elegant nod. The men made quick work of gathering their coats.
Malachi’s suit jacket caught her eye as the men draped the cloaks on hooks to the side of the elevator. It was different than what she’d seen on the jet. This one had large, pale flowers patterned against ivory tones. The floral theme should have looked girly on him.
It didn’t.
Somehow pastels in the print highlighted the green in his eyes like a neon sign. That was a neat trick.
Part of Claire was really glad her heart was already spoken for because, wherever they were going, her escort had to be the resident heartbreaker. There was just no way around it. Women had to be falling at his feet—not her, obviously.
He totally wasn’t her type.
Claire’s type was a lot less terrifying, and a lot more Jack. But that didn’t mean she was blind to another man’s allure. And when it came to that, Claire’s feminine intuition told her more than one woman’s eyes would be tracking her, trying to figure out what their relationship was.
Nonexistent. That’s what it was. But that didn’t make Malachi any less meticulous, refined, effortless, fashionable, or handsome.
Jack was all those things, as well, but about six inches shorter with eyes that erred on the side of kind. Malachi came across as calculated, and Claire had no doubt there was truth in that advertising…reminding her that her presence served him somehow.
Her escort was a man with a plan. And she was part of that plan.
She couldn’t let herself forget that.
“The herald will announce you shortly,” the first guard said, interrupting her thoughts just in time to watch both men step to the side and salute.
Malachi smiled down at Claire. “Shall we?”
Time to get her head back into the game.
Claire bobbed her head in agreement, even as anxieties fired up in her mind.
Why had the guard given her that odd look after looking at the invitation? And, holy cow, now that she was walking into the main entry, their steps echoing off the walls, how did everything seem bigger?
Also, there seemed to be a lot of layers of security for this event … and it seemed an intentional choice that none of the bionic men in black had checked for invites. They’d just let everyone past and moved jets off the runway.
The security check came once all the men in black stood between guests and their parked jets. That made Claire acutely aware of the fact that she had no way to get home unless someone at the party wanted to get her there.
Don’t think about it, she coached herself. Just don’t think about it. Live in the now. Breathe in … breathe out … in … out. In. Out.
Taking multiple steps under her massive skirt for everyone one of Malachi’s long strides, Claire followed his lead toward colossal doors that seemed like speakers for a lively sonata. Music from another room bounced through the entry hall, mixing with the click of Claire’s heels as she kept pace with the much more silent Malachi.
“Remember,” he said as they approached their next threshold. “You are not expected to understand anything you see. I know it is in your nature to deduce, but try to remember that nature will not serve you here. You will get more information by asking questions.”
Claire nodded, distracted from answering when a man emerged from the doorway, wearing the same green uniform as the men outside the elevator.
Claire was sensing a theme.
All the men outside wore black and were built like oxen, while the men inside wore suits matching the juniper green banner with the diamond. And while the men outside were all stoic muscle, the men inside had much more typical builds and keen eyes. They kind of reminded her of Jack in that way … subdued body language and eyes that gave the impression they saw everything.
Stepping up to the massive doorway, Claire expected to catch a glimpse at the festivities inside. Instead, she found herself atop a platform facing a massive mirror.
“Last chance to primp,” Malachi teased as the doorman approached and reached for the invitation. Claire could only assume Malachi handed it to him, however, because that’s when she caught sight of herself in the mirror.
She didn’t recognize herself. At all. The gown made her underweight body look full, and her mouse-brown hair had never looked more elegant than it did in its current up-do.
Her face … her make-up … her silk gloves.
She would leave it all exactly as it was, thank you very much! Claire might not be able to fix broke, but she could sure break what was already fixed by messing with perfect.
So a big, fat no on last-minute primping for her.
Ma
lachi didn’t primp either. He stood like a gentleman, a picture of ivory and pastel providing stark contrast to the short, dark beard and sharp green eyes that looked ready to do battle.
The sharp look disappeared almost as quickly as Claire noticed it, instantly replaced with an effortless smile as he looked her way in the reflection. “Any questions?”
Oh. Yeah. He wanted her to ask about things, rather than deducing.
Claire looked back at her own reflection and asked the obvious. “Where are the stairs? Does the mirror move to reveal them?”
Music swirled from somewhere in front of them—somewhere beyond the mirror—as the orchestra swelled into a finale.
“It’s actually not a giant mirror,” he said. “But hundreds of smaller ones positioned to appear as one.”
What?
Claire looked closer, trying to find seams in the image. She saw none.
“You will see mirrors everywhere in the main space,” he continued. “They serve two purposes. The first is to amplify the light and make the room bright with relatively few light sources.”
Cool, Claire thought. “And the second?”
“Visibility.” He nodded toward their reflections. “In a moment, this mirror will disperse into its parts to form a tunnel we’ll walk through. It will reflect our descent to every guest in attendance. No matter where they are in the main space, they will have the option to view our arrival.”
Wow. So there was something in the world worse than a spotlight: Mirrors designed to broadcast your presence to an unseen many.
How was that not everyone’s version of the most nightmarish way to enter a party?
Shoulders back, a self-conscious part of her urged before being joined by a choir.
Don’t trip.
Is your nose clean? Check for danglers!
Don’t trip!
We already covered that one.
It bears mentioning twice.
While her inner voices argued about all the highly probable ways she could fail, Claire took a slow, calming breath.
It’ll be fine, she willed herself to think. You won’t trip. Malachi will make sure of that.
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