by K. A. Linde
“What am I missing?” Fordham asked.
Kerrigan looked to her friends and then back to Fordham. “Darby favors women.”
“So?”
“The Season is for male and female courtships.”
Fordham furrowed his brow. “And you call us the barbarians.”
Hadrian laughed. “House of Shadows doesn’t care who you marry?”
“They care,” he said stiffly. “They just don’t care about someone’s gender.”
“Must be nice,” Clover said wistfully.
“We also have a population control problem.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “We don’t have the space to expand.”
The room buzzed with motion, but the lot of them were silent at that. Kerrigan had never considered how overcrowded the House of Shadows must be if there was only the mountains and every Fae could live past a thousand. She hadn’t seen that overcrowding, but it was likely concentrated in the lower classes. No wonder they went to war so often.
“Let’s get drinks,” Hadrian suggested.
Clover leaned into his frame, and his cheeks tinged pink. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Hadrian cleared his throat and nodded toward a waiter. The man stopped and handed them each a glass of dry, bubbling wine. Kerrigan took a sip to steel her nerves. Tonight was going to be a long night.
Then, an announcement went up for everyone to head into the ballroom. Fordham offered his arm, and they followed the crush of swishing ballgowns. She leaned into him as they waited.
The ballroom was bedecked in a rush of Fae magic. White sheets were strung on the ceiling with faerie lights dancing and glittering across them. The marble colonnades were festooned in white bows. Dual half-circle staircases framed the opposite wall, and the large wooden double doors had been outlined in hundreds of the softest pink blooms.
An attendant cleared his throat. “I present this year’s Season debuts.”
The double doors were pulled open, and a promenade of young women in white dresses stepped into the room. They each walked down one side of the stairs as gracefully as they could manage, curtsied gallantly before the assembled royalty—of which there were many from all of the assembled tribes that still had a royal court—and then took their place before them.
Kerrigan was shocked by the sheer number of debuts this year. As if many had waited for the tournament year. She’d heard that wasn’t uncommon, as it meant all the eligible bachelors who had entered the tournament and not succeeded usually went for a deb that year. Finally, near the back of the endless line was Darby.
Her black skin was lathered in some sort of slight sheen so that it glowed like a moonlit night. Her dress was the softest swath of fabric Kerrigan had ever seen, and she owned every single step she took down those stairs. Everyone stared at her in that moment. The hint of gold on her lids, the long sweep of her black lashes, the enchanting light pink atop her lush lips. The swish of her lithe hips and the command she acquired in just a head tilt. Her deep curtsy was perfection. She’d always been spectacular at the show of it all, but this was something else altogether. Kerrigan had been practicing sword play and magic work, and Darby had honed her own craft.
Whispers broke out as she took her place at the front of the line. An approving nod from one of the assembled royalty said all that needed to be said—Darby was the star of the Season.
Clover’s lips were pressed so hard together that they practically disappeared. “Well, she did all right.”
“Better than all right,” Hadrian said.
Clover huffed. She downed the rest of her wine. “I need another drink.”
Hadrian shot Kerrigan a pained look. “We’ll find you later.”
Kerrigan waved him off. “Have fun.”
“What’s with them?” Fordham asked. “I thought they were together?”
“They’re complicated.”
Like us. That was what she wanted to say.
Luckily, she was saved from having to hide that look from her face by Audria appearing. “Oh my gods, your friend is the talk of the night!”
“She did great,” Kerrigan agreed.
She fluttered her eyelashes at Fordham. “You don’t mind if I steal Kerrigan for a minute, do you?”
For a split second, he looked like he very much did mind but then came back to himself. “Of course not.”
“Great,” Audria gushed. She linked arms with Kerrigan and pulled her across the room. “I have so many people I want you to meet.”
“Meet?”
“Absolutely. Friends of mine. People you would have known from Bryonica had you stayed in the tribe. Important introductions for you to have.”
Kerrigan bit the inside of her cheek to keep from telling Audria exactly how much she wanted to make these people’s acquaintances. But it was one night, and Audria was so happy. It couldn’t be that bad.
Except it was. It was worse.
Kerrigan desperately want to escape the clutches of these women, but she had no chance of doing so. Audria tugged her around as if she were anxious to impress her friends with her new toy. It was exhausting, and after over an hour of it, Kerrigan had a headache.
It would be one thing if it was just mindless prattle, but it was also the number of these women who continually said uncomfortably offensive things about her being half-Fae. How she’d accomplished so much despite her blood. How she was so brave for showing her ears. How they couldn’t believe that someone like her had snagged a prince like Fordham. And on and on. The endless microaggressions made Kerrigan wish she were back in the Wastes, where at least her heritage wasn’t a topic of conversation.
She was so close to fleeing that she startled when Darby appeared at her side. She glowed inside and out. “Kerrigan.”
They embraced quickly. It had been weeks since Kerrigan had seen her. The longest the former roommates had ever gone. She hated that they were separated but loved that Darby was coming into her own. Even if it meant this absurd spectacle.
“Well, aren’t you the toast of the Season?”
Darby grinned and ducked her chin. “You make quite a sight yourself.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she said with a laugh.
Darby looped her arm with Kerrigan’s and tugged her away from Audria.
Audria was chatting with a blue-eyed Fae male she’d had her eye on for the last three dances, giving them the perfect escape route. Kerrigan had no intention of ever returning. She was already planning a way out. She needed to find and tell Fordham before she did so. And she hadn’t even danced yet. Pity.
“Thank you,” she said to Darby. “You did that effortlessly.”
“As if I didn’t know that you were ready to escape.”
“I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you,” Darby said. “It’s not the same without you. I honestly thought I’d always want my own room, and now that I have it, I miss having you right across the room to gossip with until the early hours of the morning.”
Kerrigan giggled. “We weren’t that bad.”
“Yes, we were, and I miss it.”
“Me too. Though you seem to have captured the attention of all the gentlemen this Season.” The only indication Darby was displeased was a fluttering of her fingers, something she’d done since she was a child. Kerrigan gripped her hand. “You do know that you don’t have to go through with this.”
Darby nodded. “I do though.”
“You don’t.”
“I can take lovers, Kerrigan. It doesn’t have to be that bad.”
“You will have to produce children,” she whispered low, worry in her voice for her friend.
Darby squeezed her hand. “You have enough to worry about. You don’t have to worry about me too.”
“Too late.”
“I love you. Now, make your escape before Audria notices. I’ll be fine.”
Kerrigan didn’t believe her, but she couldn’t make the choice for Darby. So, she hugged her
one more time and then stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. She was only outside for a moment when she realized that she wasn’t alone. She jerked her magic to her all at once, instinct taking over. Kerrigan put up a shield of solid air and then shoved it back against her attacker.
The Fae male’s shocked face as she crushed him back against the wall might not have hurt his ego, but then she started to laugh in his face.
“What are you doing? Don’t you know not to sneak up on a girl?”
He straightened, dusting off the effects of her spell. “My lady.”
Then, he hastily retreated.
Kerrigan bit her lip as she watched him disappear. Guess she wouldn’t get a dance after all.
“Impressive,” another voice said. “That’s one way to get rid of unwelcome suitors.”
Kerrigan’s smile vanished. “What do you want?”
Kivrin Argon, First of the House of Cruse, stepped out of the shadows to stand before his daughter.
“Hello, Kerrigan.”
Well, the night had just gone from bad to worse.
“At least you can get my name right.”
“I see that you’ve taken on my house again.”
“Not by choice,” she spat. Nothing could turn her into a mouse caught in a trap faster than her asshole father. “I don’t need a surname or a Bryonican house to still be important.”
“Certainly not. You used neither when you made it into the Society.”
“Oh, so this is what this is about? You only care about me because I have a position?”
“No.”
And he was so blatant with the answer that she actually stilled.
“I didn’t want to give you up.”
She couldn’t help herself; she laughed. “I don’t believe you.”
“I had to do it for your safety.”
She put her hand to her chest. “For my safety. Right. Right, right, right. I’ve heard that one before.”
“If you’d let me explain for one minute.”
“You’ve had twelve years to explain to me why you abandoned me, Kivrin. You no longer have the right.”
She whirled away from him. She didn’t want to have this conversation. He could have told her why he’d done it for years. Now that he had to claim her as his daughter again, he was going to make something up to appease the masses. And she couldn’t care what he came up with.
She pushed back into the ballroom.
Kivrin followed on her heels. “Kerrigan, wait. There’s one more thing I need to warn you about.”
“Don’t care,” she snapped.
The front door to the mansion burst open then, and the attendant called out in a clear voice for all to hear, “Lord Ashby March, First of the House of Medallion of Bryonica.”
23
The Lord
Kerrigan’s eyes widened to saucers. She was frozen in place as she stared at the man who had been her betrothed and her worst nightmare.
When they had been children, March’s family had been the closest to Kerrigan’s home, Waisley. Their parents had tied them together as soon as they legally could do so. A year of courting when they came of age would still be required, of course, but it was known from day one that their bloodlines and money would stay together. They would stay together.
But though Ashby March was the handsomest child with round baby cheeks and irresistible charm that got him whatever he wanted, there was something wrong with him. And his parents refused to see what was right there. That he learned early on where to give bruises so no one but her bathing attendants would notice. She stumbled upon him in the woods between their two properties, skinning a squirrel. The poor animal was still alive. She cried all the way home, and no one believed a word from her.
She’d been left at the House of Dragons soon after that. A blessing. A curse.
Even in her final test before she’d matched with Tieran, March had been her biggest fear. The one thing that she could never live through.
And now, he was here.
As if he was drawn to her presence like a magnet, March found her face in the crowd. Those endless ocean-blue eyes locked on hers, and a corner of his mouth twisted upward. She couldn’t move. Gods, she’d seen that look from him before. She’d seen it that day when he looked at the squirrel. Only now, she was the squirrel.
A flurry of debs rushed to his side, eager to gain the attention of the most eligible bachelor at the party. Not to mention, one of the handsomest. He had grown into an exceedingly stunning man. His round baby cheeks hollowing and those eyes almost throwing a glamour across the entire crowd. He was tall, strong, regal. Anyone would be lucky to have him. Anyone but her.
March said a few words to the debs and then brushed through them as if they no longer existed. He strode right to Kerrigan’s side and bowed deeply at the waist. “My lady.”
She stood, stunned. A curtsy was the appropriate response. Instead, she blurted, “What are you doing here?”
His nostrils flared just slightly, and then he smoothed it over. “My darling, how could you expect anything otherwise? I came as soon as I heard.”
“Heard?”
“That you had returned to us, of course.” He plucked Kerrigan’s hand out of the air and pressed a kiss against it.
She nearly wrenched it back. The thought of his lips on her person made her physically recoil. She managed to slowly withdraw it. “I’ve been here all along.”
“Why did you never send word?” His big blue eyes were so sincere. “I was desperate for your return. For years, I went looking for you.”
She blinked at him, waiting for the subterfuge. She’d known March like no other person, but it had been so long ago. Twelve years was a long time, and she’d been a child. “I thought that this was what was meant for me.”
He grinned brightly. “You were meant for the world.”
Kerrigan had nothing to say to that. As far as she was concerned, she had the world now.
“This was meant to be our Season,” he said calmly, gesturing to the court behind them.
Everyone was watching and waiting to see what would happen. If Kerrigan would so easily snag the most eligible bachelor on her first night here. If things would return to how they had once been.
“Yes,” Kerrigan said lightly. “But I don’t get a Season. I’m here as a representative of the Society. I train for the rest of the year.”
“That’s deeply unfortunate. Surely, they can let you all off the hook for a few parties.”
Kerrigan shrugged. “This one was in Kinkadia and on the weekend we finished our first month of training. I don’t know what things will look like after this.”
She waited for his easily kindled anger to rise up at her words. For him to find that soft spot on her elbow that would tinge blue. But he smiled so serenely that she wondered if she knew him at all anymore. Perhaps twelve years was too long to assume to still know a person. Perhaps the behavior from his youth was past him. She didn’t know. She didn’t want to know.
“It’s so lovely to see you again,” she said, trying for regret. “But I …”
“It has been, hasn’t it? If I remember correctly, you adore dancing. It would be my pleasure.” He held his hand out. “Shall we?”
Kerrigan stumbled on her words. Everyone was watching, waiting, wondering. She hated this part of this world. Before she could even form a word to refuse, March took her hand and tugged her toward the dance floor. The song had just ended, and another one began. It was a quick jaunt that her feet remembered before her mind even caught up. Then, she was in March’s arms, being whisked across the dance floor to a perfect tempo.
She had to give March credit. Whatever he’d been when they were children, he had shaped up to be a perfectly respectable gentleman. He’d detested dancing and all courtly things as a child. Now, he moved with a grace that could only be gained from endless hours of practice and a confidence born from birth.
Ashby March was next in line for the House of Medallion
. If they had wed, it was entirely possible that when the regents from the House of Drame went into the void, she and March would have succeeded them as king and queen. That showed in every movement. She and March had been built for this moment. They were supposed to be the stars. Even if she was no longer that person.
“You’re even more beautiful than I envisioned,” he whispered against her ear.
“I didn’t know that you thought of me at all.”
“Of course I did,” he said, pulling back to look into her eyes. His blue ones so sincere that her distrust wavered.
Kerrigan didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t thought of March at all. In fact, she’d been glad to be rid of him. And she was too busy to deal with whatever was lurking there in those blue eyes.
The music ended. Kerrigan stepped back, putting much-needed distance between her and March. Her heart thudded in her chest from the exertion of the dance. There were faint notes of applause all around them, as if they had danced for everyone else’s spectacle. She hadn’t even noticed.
“Another?” he asked.
And then there was another hand there. “May I have the next dance?”
Kerrigan turned to find Fordham with one hand behind his back, the other before her. His gray eyes were as mercurial as ever, the black of his hair tipping forward toward his eyes. Her heart thudded for a whole other reason.
“I’ve already claimed this one,” March said, reaching out and grasping her arm.
She stumbled a step back toward him.
“Now, March,” she said easily, “you cannot commandeer all of my attention.” She extracted herself from March’s grasp and let it rest in Fordham’s hand. The dance she’d really wanted tonight.
She could feel March fuming next to her, but she was unprepared for the next words out of his mouth.
“I must object. Unhand my fiancée,” March declared.
The ball went silent at the pronouncement, and then, whispers tittered around the room. People were too polite to point, but their eyes did the talking for them.