Page 54

Rhea’s eyes locked instantly onto the high, stiff collar of the massive black leather jacket drowning my frame, specifically onto the distinctive silver stripes stitched into the lapel denoting the rank of High Captain.

The soft smile vanished, replaced in a single second by a purely wicked grin. She dropped her hands from her temples, the hangover completely forgotten as she leaned over the mahogany.

“Now, what captain’s jacket could that possibly be?” Rhea purred, her voice dripping with unmitigated glee. “And why might the King’s daughter be wearing it the morning after the midnight bells, looking thoroughly undone?”

I tried to force my features into a wall of stone, desperately attempting to suppress the sudden heat flooding my cheeks, but the wine from last night had left my usual armor fractured. Before I could formulate a sharp lie, Rhea reached out and hooked her fingers around my forearm, pulling me down into the high-backed wooden chair beside her. She leaned in close, smelling of the fresh mint she was using to mask the solstice vintage.

“Sit,” she demanded in a hushed whisper, her amber eyes burning with an insatiable hunger for details. “You are going to give me every single piece of gossip right now.”

I looked at her, a complicated wave of affection and panic colliding in my chest. Rhea was one of my closest allies in this keep—fierce, loyal, and entirely unfiltered when she wasn’t bound by her vanguard armor. But as I looked down at the silver stripes on my collar, the memory of Caspian’s mouth against my skin and the terrifying, dual eruption of magic flashed behind my eyelids with visceral clarity.

It was a secret far too raw, far too dangerous, and far too unhinged to share. Not yet.

The heavy, bronze-studded doors at the base of the Great Hall groaned open, and Aerynn walked in.

“—and I swear to you, the High Lord of Ulfedell didn’t even realize his daughter had vanished into the mist until the fourth bell,” Aerynn was saying, his voice carrying over the high stone arches with arrogant amusement.

Caspian and Soren followed in tight formation behind him, their sharp features locked into various states of guarded stoicism after the King’s sudden briefing. They walked directly to the high table, the heavy scraping of their boots echoing against the slate before they slid into the empty chairs directly opposite Rhea and me. Caspian sank into the heavy oak seat directly across from me, his broad frame casting a familiar, protective shadow across my space.

Their arrival did absolutely nothing to deter Rhea.

Her amber eyes tracked the massive black leather jacket draped over my shoulders, then shifted directly across the table to Caspian. The High Captain was wearing dark trousers and a form-fitting black shirt that clung tightly to the muscle of his torso—but he was noticeably missing his signature outerwear. He was completely jacketless in the chilly morning air. Rhea tracked the missing piece of armor back to my frame, her grin widening into something downright terrifying.

Soren caught her looking back and forth between us. Remembering the room he had walked into an hour prior, he took in my flushed cheeks and let out a soft, amused laugh.

Aerynn stopped mid-sentence, his brow furrowing as he set his chalice on the mahogany. He looked between his officers, his princely authority flaring. “What is so amusing, Soren? I don’t recall telling a joke.”

Beneath the edge of the table, Caspian moved with sudden efficiency. His elbow delivered a swift nudge directly into Soren’s ribs. A dangerous flash of deep sapphire sparked behind Caspian’s dark lashes—an icy threat promising a brutal dawn drill if Soren didn’t shut his mouth immediately.

Soren winced slightly, clearing his throat with a cough. “Nothing, Aerynn. Just a bit of the morning mist caught in my throat.”

Aerynn narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. But before my brother could press the matter, the doors groaned open once more.

Dax came striding into the Great Hall, practically radiating an unbothered energy that contrasted violently with the hungover exhaustion of the room. He looked completely disheveled in the best possible way—his silver-trimmed festive tunic unfastened at the collar, his hair a wild disaster, and a smug, victorious grin plastered across his face. He had clearly squeezed every single drop of lawless debauchery out of the festival.

“If any of you tell me the King called an early war council, I will personally shoot a fire-bolt through the dais,” Dax announced, sliding into the seat at the head of the table with a theatrical sigh. He pulled a silver platter of roasted honey-meats toward himself before his bright green gaze swept over our quiet group. “Gods above, the valley floor was a glorious slaughterhouse last night. Truly legendary.” He leaned back, eyes dancing with intelligence. “Now, stop looking like a collection of grim ghosts. How did everyone else’s night go?”

Aerynn didn’t hesitate before leaning back in his chair, an amused smirk playing on his royal features.

“Well, if we are counting the highlights, at the very start of the night, a rather uninhibited female from the lower court offered to show me her butthole,” he stated casually, as if reporting on the weather.

I choked slightly on my breath, throwing a glare down the length of the table. “No thanks,” I muttered quickly, wrinkling my nose.

Aerynn shot back a dry laugh, pointing a finger in my direction. “Your loss, Taur. She claimed it was exceptional. But outside of that graphic encounter, I had my fill of standard solstice debauchery.”

Soren leaned back, a lazy grin playing on his lips as he took a long sip from his goblet. He shifted his dark gaze to me, eyes dancing with the memory of the morning’s walk-in. “Well, after the Princess here ruthlessly shoved me off watch and demanded I go enjoy myself, I didn’t let the night go to waste. I found myself thoroughly enjoying the company of a stunning, dark-haired beauty from the third command. She had a remarkably impressive grasp of close-quarters combat.”

Soren slowly lowered his goblet, his gaze sliding deliberately to the stone-faced male sitting directly across from me. A knowing glint sparked behind his lashes. “What about you, Cas? How was your night in the dark?”

Before Caspian could formulate an icy response, Aerynn scoffed, waving a hand. “Why bother asking him? You know he never celebrates the festival. He prefers to spend the solstice brooding with the gargoyles on the high stone—”

Aerynn cut himself off cleanly. As he looked up from his plate, his gaze shifted across the table, tracking the line of my posture until his eyes locked directly onto the massive, heavy black leather drowning my shoulders. His brow furrowed deeply, his sharp features tightening in sudden, intense confusion. He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes darting between my face and the silver stripes on the lapel.

“Wait,” Aerynn demanded, his voice dropping an octave. “Whose jacket is that?”

Fuck.

The sudden silence at the table turned suffocating. Heat flooded my cheeks, a frantic lie catching in the back of my throat as I gripped the heavy leather lapels.