It’s just I have honestly never noticed either of those things. I love his little crooked smile, and the way he narrows his eyes and clicks his claws across the table. Wouldn’t I have seen if he was vainy or twitchy? Maybe we’re not as close as I thought. Couples are supposed to notice that kind of thing about each other.
“Honestly, it would have been nice to chat with one person who hasn’t had a love affair with my boyfriend,” I joke in a low voice for the grownups only. Pepper visiblyflushes.
“Oh my god—you too?”
“A summertime fling.”
There seem to be a lotof those.
“Well, at least we all have something in common. I’ll see you later, okay?” I laugh it off, giving them all a beaming smile—which, if their expressions are any indication, they’re not buying. “Enjoy the imminent food fight.”
“We get to play food fight?” a tiny voice pipes up. Pepper’s eyes widen in my direction, as if to saythanks a lot.
Sorry,I lip, hurrying away before I accidentally cause any more damage. With every step, I want to turn around and join their chaos, but instead, I’ll have to face up to my own. I can’t keep avoiding Mothforever.
17.
Ithought dinner with just the four of uswas fancy.
But this? Ooof.
We sit at a long and dramatic dining table with a spread I haven’t seen the likes of since Christmas dinner at my mom’s house. Strings of ivy and glowing tea lights in pink-tinted glasses act as a table runner. To my delight, an array of vegetable dishes look just as pretty as they aredelicious.
Moth is late, which isn’t like him. Maybe sulking off this morning without talking was a worse idea thanI thought.
“How lucky I am to be seated next to such a beauty.” A man with dark red hair and a cutting smile snatches up my hand. He’s different than the other nobles: no wings sprout from his back, his skin is as pale as a ghost, and instead of a row of fangs, the only teeth that are sharp are hiscanines.
Holy shit, it’s avampire.
“King Magnus, you were so good to join us,” Queen Plume interjects, a subtle reminder of the man’s name and title.
The vampire king.
He raises my hand to his lips, poised to kiss my wrist, and I freeze, unsure how to stop the impending affection. He’s not going to bite me, is he? It’s not that biting is something I’m not into. It’s just only when a certain cryptid is the one sinking his teeth in—andnotdrinkingmy blood.
“And just who might you be?” King Magnus asks, our eyes meeting for only a moment while my hand moves closer to his lips, seemingly in slow motion.
The door swings open, causing the king to freeze mid-action. My cheeks flush pink at the sight of Moth, fully transformed—his strong shoulders pulled back, his dark wings trailing behind him like a cape. I gape as he strides into the room as if there’s nothing unusual about his appearance. Like me, every noble struggles to pick their jaws off the floor. I don’t blame them. No matter what skin he’s in, he is predictably the most appetizing thing at this table.
Though, I’m not sure those from the Butterfly Court would agree as they openly gawk. I tense, fighting the urge to dive right into his firm chest and feel his cool feathers on my skin.
“Mine.” Moth snatches my hand, which had been inching dangerously close to the vampire’s lips. The low boom of his voice sends tingles down my spine. There’s a slight baring of his fangs from beneath his lips when Moth speaks, anddear god,I hope this isn’t going to start a war or something. It’s not an uncommon fantasy for two people to be fighting over someone—but not when there’s diplomacy at stake! I have no idea what the Moth Court’s standing is with the vampires. In fact, I don’t know anything about them at all. But when Moth tenderly raises my hand to his lips, it distracts me from anything else.
“Other than that, I’m Heather. Hi.”
“Heather...” King Magnus says. His eyebrow raises as he stares at me, a smile still at the edge of his lips. “An unusual name.”
Not really, I want to say, but here among the Oaks, Hollys, and Plumes, I suppose it is.
“And Death, we never had the pleasure ofmeeting.”
“He goes by the name of Moth now,” Queen Plume states.
“Oh, my sincerest apologies.” The king stands to bow. To his credit, he looks sincere. “Prince Moth, it is good to make your acquaintance.”
Moth does not bow back—in his hulking form, I’m not even sure what such a refined gesture would look like. I manage to lightly nudge at his side from my seated position to remind him there’s a game to play, but he doesn’t oblige.
Great.
