“Thank you, Your Highnesses.” My voice was steady. I deserved a medal for that.
“Just call us by our names, Max,” Caspian said.
“Sit, Max.” Aelindor smiled, and no one smiled more beautifully than the Fae prince. My mind went straight to how he’d kissed me, the controlled intensity, the way his hands cupped my face as if I were something worth holding still for.
“You’ll get used to dining with us,” he added. “In the future.”
In the future.As if he’d already decided I belonged at this table, at his side.
If Nikolai joined them when we returned to the fortress—Nikolai, whose mouth I could still feel between my thighs—then dining with all four would be a catastrophe. I’d find excuses. I knew I wouldn’t use them. The heirs made me weak in a way no enemy ever had, and the weakness felt like the most honest thing about me.
“Help yourself, Max,” Caspian said.
I reached for a roll and split it in half. The bread was warm, the butter real, and for one second the simple pleasure of food cut through everything else.
Dinner settled into something almost normal. Caspian told a joke about a Spartan, a grease trap, and a very angry badger, and I giggled.
Shit. I only knew how to do it by mimicking my little sister’s sound.
Drakken hadn’t touched his food but watched me with an expression that looked like pain. His gray eyes tracked my mouth when I spoke, my hands when I reached for food, my throat when I swallowed.
“Excuse me.” He shoved his chair back, the scrape making everyone flinch, and stood. “I have a duty to see to.”
“Come on, man.” Caspian’s tone sharpened. “That’s not cool.”
“Let him go.” Aelindor sighed. “At least grab a burger while you see to your duty, Drakken.”
But Drakken didn’t take a burger. He walked out with rigid shoulders, his stride too fast to be casual, and the door closed with a controlled force that was worse than a slam.
The air thinned. Something in my chest tightened, the ache of wanting a man who couldn’t stay in the same room with me long enough to finish a meal.
I stared at his empty chair. His untouched plate.
Aelindor met my eyes. No judgment, only a quiet sadness that told me the Fae heir understood something about Drakken’s departure that neither Caspian nor I did.
The dinner continued.
Life went on.
I ate my burger, smiled at Aelindor, and laughed at Caspian’s jokes.
Chapter 13
Max
Envoys were waiting at the station platform when our train pulled in.
There hadn’t been a single incident since we’d left the east border outpost. No demon activity reported after the first wave came through the DarkVeil. The Coldiron within would obey my command and prevent more demons from crossing over, unless the false heir showed up and countered me. When I wasn’t present, Coldiron would bend to his will.
That prospect snagged me and wouldn’t let go.
Where exactly had the first horde emerged? It was unlikely they’d simply poured out of the chasm where lava churned. Was there another portal hidden inside the Veil?
Aelindor, Drakken, and Caspian hadn’t considered that question, and even if I raised it now, none of us had an answer.
After we’d stumbled out of the DarkVeil alive, the outpost had erupted into stunned silence and then controlled chaos. I hadn’t attended any briefings beyond the first, so I had no idea what the heirs had told the commanding officers in Greyhold.
Nikolai. Shit.
