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It’ll be dawn in a couple of hours, and fog rings the lights to create ghostly haloes. The two moons shine above, casting eerie shadows across the pale wooden beams.
“It looks like a hanging gallows they didn’t get around to finishing,” I whisper. “I have to go up there?”
Jace presses closer, and I want to soak up his warmth. My strapless gown does nothing to shield me from tonight’s chill or judgmental stares. Goosebumps prickle over my shoulders and arms, making my hairs stand on end. Jace radiates heat like a cozy blanket. Nope, I can’t let my mind race toward crawling into his arms and hiding from all these glaring gargoyles who I can’t figure out how to please. The pressure is making me work not to hug myself and ignore the Spidress’s warnings about wrinkling her designer creation.
“Everyone will adore you,” Jace says. “How could they not?”
“You’re stunning,” Atticus adds. “Simply walk up when they call you forward. Once all the candidates have been presented, the elders will say a few words, and then we can get back to training.”
“Riiight,” Jace drawls. “Training.” His innuendo is not subtle.
“Stop,” Atticus orders, and Jace aims a wicked smile my way.
I try to concentrate on why we’re here and not where I’d rather be. Chatter and noise from the crowd makes it hard to think. The smells of sweat and body odor make me light-headed. I lean forward to check out who’s around us and fail because the twins are too massive. Their wings block my view of anything except the scary platform waiting for me to climb up there and present myself like a freaky trophy on display.
I could really use Huey right about now. At least I would have support on the stage…if he’s allowed to go with me. I should’ve paid closer attention to the list of rules Atticus showed me, but they’d been written in small, crowded script with rivers of white space between the words that made it almost impossible to read. Sure, he’d read them aloud, but he’d been naked at the time. Don’t think of the twins naked. “Has either of you seen Huey?”
Jace shakes his head. “Not since the Spidress and her minions dressed you. He’s probably begging Rona for a snack while we’re not there to distract our voyeuristic brownie.”
Imagining the toddler-sized housekeeper being the dirty old lady listening in on our sexy times doesn’t help soothe my nerves.
Atticus moves closer without touching me. Neither of them so much as brush against me since that’s part of his strategy for getting through this with as little gossip as possible. “Hudyakis obviously agrees that this presentation doesn’t require his presence because you’ll stand with the other candidates on stage and outshine them as the obvious choice to be the next queen.”
Sure? That’s me. Royalty personified. Not. I catch myself before wiping my damp palms on the chiffon layers of the flowing skirt. “Why the stage?” I ask.
“So everyone can see the candidates,” Atticus says.
“Ugh, I’d rather they not.” I’ve gone from wanting to be seen to thinking invisible might not be so bad after all in this situation.
“You’re beautiful, love.” Jace’s words feel like a caress. He leans closer. “You’re also sexy as fuck.”
I cannot risk getting turned on right before such an important event. No way can I go up on that stage in this dress squirming because I can’t control my insane cravings for these men. According to Atticus, the elders don’t need to know that we’re mates. I’m guessing that also on the list of “information not needed” is the fact that I want to spend every waking minute exploring the newness of the tingling throb of magic that flows between my mates and me each time we touch. I look to my level-headed mate for some calm, less seductive reassurance.
Atticus maintains the same serious expression he’s worn since we left the tower, not even bothering to snark at his twin. “Your gown sparkles like the crystals you love, and while the Spidress outdid herself, it’s you who is the glittering rainbow we so desperately need. Although I can’t wait to figure out how to strip that dress off you in the most mind-blowingly erotic way possible. Let’s see how many times we can make you moan before it’s on the floor.”
Seriously? He whips out the dirty talk now? Damn. I can barely breathe with the tightness in my chest, let alone go on stage to wow a group into believing I’m their next great leader. Untangling my tongue, I manage to say, “I think you might be a bit biased. The same distraction won’t work on the rest of the crowd.”
“I should hope not.” He glances down at me, his intensity overwhelming. “But they’ll see you’re exactly who our realm needs. The elders and everyone else with half a brain will have to recognize that truth.”
A rowdy crowd heckles and whistles in a way that makes me think of a frat party about to go terribly wrong.
“Speaking of half a brain,” Jace mumbles. “Cutter’s going to make a spectacle of this.”
“Not our problem,” Atticus says, glancing in the other Diviner’s direction for only a moment before ignoring him.
I gape at him, not adding how I think it’s a definite problem considering what the guy’s candidate called me. Who says stuff like that? It had shaken me, made me second guess myself until Jace had told me explicitly how awful she was while kissing his way from my ankle to the back of my knee, how jealous she should be of me while licking the inside of my thigh, how I was perfect when his tongue swiped between my legs. I hadn’t dwelled on the horrible name calling until now when Cutter has a group of rowdy gargoyles cheering like he’s the star quarterback and his mean-girl candidate’s the head cheerleader. No, she’s an insult to cheerleaders.
The gargoyle missing his wings, the one I met after coming through the portal, shuffles to a stop in front of me. “Queen candidate, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” I don’t remember his name, but he doesn’t give me a chance to respond anyway. “What did you think of the gargoyle history recordings I made you?” he asks.
“Oh.” I don’t want to admit that I haven’t had a chance to listen to yet more lessons when I’d been wrapped up in studying the twins. Atticus had mentioned the recordings and then trailed a clawed finger along my runes, making me shiver. All thought of history lessons had vanished. The night suddenly feels much warmer. “Um, I haven’t?—”
Atticus interrupts. “We haven’t gotten to that part of the curriculum yet, but we appreciate the hard work. I know she’ll still be listening to them and learning our culture for years to come after she’s crowned. Thank you for your help, Truman.”
I blink. My mate lies his monstrous tail off, but the other gargoyle seems flattered by the diplomatic bullshit.
“Many blessings, queen candidate.” Truman bows his head and reaches out his gnarled knuckles which seem to have some claws lopped off. Is he asking me to shake his hands? To give him a hug? To pet him on the head like a puppy? What’s going on here?
Stepping in, Atticus takes both Truman’s hands in his. “As always, we are indebted to you, our friend, for your constant support.”
