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Bree scanned the room. He’d been placed at a table further in the back, almost hidden beneath the shadows of the tapestries that hung from the wall. They were red and gold and black with a pair of red wings etched across the entire surface, flapping against an invisible wind. Rafe seemed to be surrounded by others that looked like him. They wore darker clothes, some frayed at the edges. Bree frowned. Why did the Prince have Rafe sit over there instead of withhim?
“Do you not think so, Ethne?” Taveon asked, glancing Bree’s way. He’d been deep in a conversation with Conlan and Branok, but Bree hadn’t heard a damn word. She’d been far too focused on Rafe tonotice.
“Hmm,” Bree said, noncommittally and nodding her head. She just needed to remember she didn’t need to say much. A nod here, a smilethere.
But that didn’t appear to be enough for the Prince because he frowned in Bree’s direction. “Is there something wrong? You are not acting like yourself. Why do you keep looking atRafferty?”
Bree thought for a moment. Prince Taveon obviously expected some sort of answer from her, but what would Ethne normally say in this situation? Something courtly or political no doubt. She was a member of the council. They probably discussed their “subordinates” like lesserbeings.
“He has been spending a lot of time with the slave,” Bree said, wincing at the word she hated somuch.
“He is training her,” Taveon said. “I told you not to worry about Rafe. He is like a brother to me. There is no one else he would rather see sit on thethrone.”
“Of course,” Bree said. “Mybad.”
Taveon’s deep dark eyes flickered as he stared at her. “Have you been speaking with the slave? That is a very human thing tosay.”
Shit. Bree internally rolled her eyes at herself. She was so used to saying whatever popped into her head that she wasn’t watching her words as carefully as she should. She was going to have to be more careful, or Taveon was quickly going to realize thetruth.
“Yes.” She gave a nod and spoke slowly, weighing every single word that came out of her mouth. “The human slave is quite...fascinating. She has such a strange way of speaking, does shenot?”
Taveon seemed satisfied with her answer and the stiff way Bree spoke the words. He turned back to his male council members but his next words were cut short by an explosion of wood as the large double doors flew open and crashed into thewalls.
Taveon was on his feet within an instant, but Bree stayed rooted to the spot, clutching the oak table tight in herfists.
Five figures rushed into the Great Hall, their faces obscured by white marble masks in the shape of contorted screams. They looked like something out of a horror film, and they carried so many weapons that it made Bree’s head spin. Swords and daggers and maces that looked as though they could cut down a fae with a single stroke. Through the open doors, Bree could spot the bodies of the guards that stood watch outside of the feast every night. They were on their backs, and blood spread across the stone in pools of bright sicklyred.
“Prince Taveon,” Bree whispered, reaching out to clutch his arm, forgettingherself.
The masked figures raised swords and began slashing through the fae who sat nearest to the door. Screams erupted through the hall, echoing against the domed ceiling. Fear shook through Bree’s core and her heart beat so hard that it felt as though it might explode out of herchest.
She had no weapon, and neither did most of the fae in thisCourt.
“Conlan. Branok. With me.” The Prince shot Bree a grim look and pulled out his sword. “Get all the royals to safety,Ethne.”
Bree didn’t even know her own voice when she spoke. “I should helpfight.”
He gave her a strange look. “Nottoday.”
And then he was gone, raising his sword high in the air as he charged toward the attackers. Bree’s heart lurched in her chest, which surprised her. She actually felt afraid for the Prince, worried that these attackers might mow him down. And he looked so strong, so powerful. He was rushing into the fight, putting himself in danger for the sake of theCourt.
But that was ridiculous. She hated him. And he couldn’t even die. She’d sooner see him tortured at the hands of these attackers than see him ascend to his pitifulthrone.
Still, she couldn’t help but appreciate his tightly-coiled muscles, and the way he soared through the air with the speed and grace of a dancer. Taveon was a horrible monster, but she could not deny that there was a breathtaking intensity about the way hemoved.
“Ethne,” someone said into her ear before grabbing her arm. “You need to get the females out of here before the attack reaches theroyals.”
Swallowing hard, she ripped her gaze away from the Prince. Perhaps there was some good in him, but it wasn’t enough to erase everything else he’d donebefore.
