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He crooked a finger at her, and as if an invisible line tethered them together, she moved toward him.
The double doors to the ballroom opened then, breaking their eye contact, and Langdan stepped forward, announcing, “His Majesty, King Samael Ollivier, and Her Majesty, Queen Viviana Ollivier.”
8
The King
The king and queen of the House of Shadows entered the room. King Samael in the black and silver of his house and Viviana in a midnight-blue dress that matched her sweeping dark hair.
Prescott yanked Kerrigan down, and she stumbled, barely righting herself before she fell into a curtsy.
“Some warning next time,” she snarled at him, a little of Kerrigan peeking out.
He shot her an insufferable smirk. “Ah, so you are as feisty as he said you were.”
Kerrigan didn’t get a chance to respond because the king stepped forward to address his court. He lifted his hand to tell his subjects to rise.
“Welcome,” King Samael said. He cut a formidable figure. Not quite as tall as his son, but sturdy with broad shoulders and a booming voice. His hair was long past his shoulders and the same onyx color but with eyes to match. “It is a great triumph of mine to announce that my son, Prince Fordham, has returned victorious to the House of Shadows.” The court applauded the announcement as he gestured to Fordham, who straightened, putting his hands behind his back and staring blankly at his audience. “Tonight, we are not just Ollivier, Laurent, and Blanchard. Tonight, we are all tribe Charbonnet, as we once were. Before the Society kicked us out of their halls, killed those of us with dragons who would not submit, and trapped us here forever, branding us the Dark Court. We claimed the House of Shadows long ago, and with my son’s advancement into the Society and a dragon of his own, we will rise again.”
The crowd roared its approval at the pronouncement. The king stepped toward his son, clapping him on the shoulder. They looked at each other not as father and son, but as enemy combatants, waiting for the fight.
“Let the past be the past and old transgressions forgotten,” the king said to his only son. “Let’s welcome him back properly.”
Fordham inclined his head at his father and raised his hand to the adoring crowd.
“That’s our cue,” Prescott said.
Kerrigan followed Prescott across the room to where Fordham and Wynter stood with their father and his new bride. Upon closer inspection, Queen Viviana couldn’t have been much older than Kerrigan. And she was the first to notice Kerrigan.
“What’s this?” Viviana asked. “Your pet?”
Fordham brought her close to him. “Kerrigan, this is Queen Viviana.”
Kerrigan curtsied deeply.
“And my father, King Samael.”
“Your Majesty,” she breathed, sinking even lower.
“You trained her up, I see,” Viviana said. “Enchanting.”
“Well, what do you think of the ball?” Samael asked Fordham.
“Unexpected,” he said carefully. “I have been trying to reach you for two days, and you have been busy.”
“Save politics for after the party,” the king said.
Viviana stepped up to Kerrigan, inspecting her like a prized horse, as the other women had. She leaned in close and pinched her arm, hard. “You’ll never have him, leatha.”
Kerrigan stilled at the comment. Benton had said that the queen was the worst sort of Fae. That she had come from a family of half-Fae haters. That she could handle. But she hadn’t mentioned that the queen was apparently smitten with Fordham.
“Viviana, dear, let’s dance.”
“Yes, darling,” she said, winking at Fordham as she passed onto the dance floor.
“Fordham, give that girl a proper twirl.”
“Shall we?” Fordham asked, gritting his teeth.
Kerrigan took his proffered hand. As they moved onto the dance floor, she breathed to him, “Viviana?”
He made a small sound of disgust. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Ah,” she whispered.
And then the music began, and all thoughts fled her mind. She had taken many dance lessons at the House of Dragons, mostly to satisfy Darby’s love of it. But it had never been Kerrigan’s love. Not because she was not good at it, but because it reminded her too much of home. Today, she would have to lean into that.
“Follow my lead,” Fordham said as they drew close together for the intro.
“I know how to dance, princeling,” she teased.
His eyes narrowed. “The way that you knew how to fight?”
“No,” she breathed. “The way that you do.”
He arched an eyebrow at her as the music began, and all the dancers stepped into place.
Kerrigan’s love of dance had stemmed from a very young age. She’d begged her father to take her to the balls as a child, learning all of the numbers by heart before she could do much more than toddle around. And the dances never left her. They’d burrowed down so deep as to be a part of her.
As Fordham took her hand and twirled her in place, she realized she knew this number already. She had learned it as a young child. And her very bones settled to have her repeat it.
