Page 108 of Fallen Court

I clenched my jaw, my simmering frustration threatening to boil over. “He isn’t ready.”

“Nobody ever is,” Roark countered softly, the words striking a chord deep within me.

Memories of the night my parents’ reign ended flashed through my mind—the chaos, the confusion, my own staggering unpreparedness. I’d made a lot of stupid mistakes in the immediate aftermath, some of which I was still paying for.

“Why do you think I’m so hard on him?” It came out more sharply than I intended. “When Ciara takes the throne, I want him ready, not a fucking mess like I was.”

“Then stop pushing him away. You—” The sound of splintering wood cut him off. We both whipped around as the door to La Porte burst open, revealing a large crack on the other side. Creatures of all kinds—vampires with night-dark eyes, witches muttering what were likely spells under their breath, snarling fae—tumbled into the street.

I turned to Roark, cocking a brow. “You were saying?”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Cate

La Porte’s bathroom felt like a sanctuary after the Danse Macabre, especially given the fact that Ciara had unceremoniously ordered every other soul out and locked the door behind them. Ciara smoothed her glamoured bob as I adjusted the bodice of my gown with the help of the gilded, full-length mirror that leaned against the emerald-and-gold-papered walls. I frowned as I noticed a jagged tear along the skirt’s hem.

Ciara caught sight of the damage, and her lips twitched. “Looks like you’re not getting that deposit back.”

“I guess not.” At least it was worth it.

“Maybe you should be more careful.” Mischief glinted in her green eyes. “Did you catch it on something or someone or someone’s something?”

I rolled my eyes even as my heart pounded, recalling exactly how the dress had been torn. “I think you need to get laid.”

She snorted as she stared at her reflection. “Who has the time?” Waving a hand, she turned her lips a deeper shade of red, nearly crimson. “I mean, except you.”

I circled a finger in her direction. “This isn’t meant to catch someone’s attention?”

Two could play the innuendo game, and since she’d been bombarding me with them since I bargained my way into her life, it was her turn to lose it.

“Maybe.” She pursed her lips like she was practicing said seduction. “There are a lot of vampires here tonight.”

“I thought the eighties were your vampire decade.” She’d told me that once in a fit of melancholy.

But this time she laughed. “Honey, every decade is a vampire decade.”

“We’re really going to pretend that nothing’s going on with you and—”

“Don’t finish that thought.”

I crossed my arms and waited for her defense. As far as I was concerned, it was more than a thought—for all interested parties. “Was I this obstinate over Lach?”

“Worse.”

“Speaking of acting like a brat,” I said, watching her flinch in the mirror. I softened my voice, hoping I still sounded firm. “You’ve been kind of harsh with Roark lately.”

Her bubbly facade faltered, her smile waning like the crescent moon outside. She released a long sigh that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken thoughts. “I know,” she admitted, leaning against the sink, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “It’s just…easier than admitting how awkward this new arrangement is. I’ll be glad when we break this curse and everything goes back to normal.”

“What if it doesn’t? What if Lach needs you to take the throne? You’re going to need Roark.” Something twisted in my gut. It was a possibility I rarely acknowledged because of the implications. But Ciara was my friend, and as much as I wanted a return to normal—or whatever this new life of mine was—I owed it to her to be truthful. She needed to face this. Maybe we both did.

She fiddled with a ring on her finger. “I can’t explain what it is that annoys me so much about him.”

The corners of my mouth lifted involuntarily. “That’s a feeling I understand.”

“It’s not like that.” She glared back at me.

“Of course not.” I didn’t try to hide my sarcasm. There was a thin line between irritation and attraction. She knew it, too.