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“But can an Augustus run a secret organization of mafia fiends? Or regularly order the capture and execution of various drug lords who dared to defy him behind his back when he’s been nothing but merciful? An Augustus surely can’t make an entire kingdom bow to their knees in complete submission after being found guilty of treason for ordering a surprise attack that clearly went wrong. All those things don’t really fit the character, if you ask me,” I summed up and enjoyed the way his eyes began to dilate at my ruthless storytelling. “But an Amos. Hmmm. An Amos can do a lot of deadly things without blinking an eye.”
My lips were inches from his, our eye contact far too intense to break.
“Amos walks upon the lands of his enemies and destroys every single individual without a hint of regret. Amos can listen to the agony of those who dare think evil of him as they’re tortured day and night in the dungeon just below his sleeping chambers. Amos can fuck his lover, man or woman, in front of his entire team of knights and no one would say a single thing, for King Amos can do whatever the fuck he wants,” I summarized and slowly pulled away with a satisfied smirk.
“So in reality, Augustus is worthy of leading, but Amos . . . Amos is destined to rule kingdoms that acknowledge how sinister and merciless he can be with a simple thought and action.”
He couldn’t look prouder, as the corners of his lips spread so wide, I got to enjoy the serene beauty of his white-toothed smile.
“My mate is intriguing, indeed,” he commented to himself as he sighed. “Where’s the rest of your pack?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” I admitted with a shrug. “I had the intention of meeting up with them, but Harold was rather intrigued with my outfit and wanted to know about the designer.”
“Ah. Devil’s Clothing Boutique, isn’t it?” Amos disclosed as he used his free hand to dig into the inner pocket of his golden suit to retrieve a matte black card with various accents and neon colors. “I was just talking to Mr. Sephtis. Extravagant personality with a touch of insanity. He’s rather brilliant in the design department. I’m shocked he isn’t booked two years out yet.”
The comment about Arthur’s schedule not being booked yet seemed to catch the attention of every fae—or individual who was desperate to be on the latest fashion ride—as they listened carefully.
“He designed you all new outfits in a matter of twenty minutes after the accidental fire. I was completely shocked he managed to create such pieces of exquisite design in such a short time frame and with limited supplies. The color coordination was also on point,” he complimented almost on purpose. “I asked him to make special attire for part two of this runway. I ensured I offered him a hefty bargain he wouldn’t refuse in exchange. I just came from being fitted. Should be done in fifteen minutes or less.”
“How considerate of him,” I began. “Mr. Sephtis is one of a kind. To think he waited until this event to make his debut. Ruby was tempted to hire him to make attire for the royal family only, but he has so much potential that it would be nice for others to experience his amazing creations while they still can. I’ve already requested him to do some attire for New Year’s Eve and every important holiday and yearly event next year. I figure it would be safer to book him now than waste even a second playing around with the time of such a rare gem.”
“I guarantee he’ll be booked for three years by the end of intermission.” Amos said it so casually, and yet we could already hear the scurry of individuals’ feet rushing to leave the open space to locate Arthur promptly.
“Three is far too generous,” I jokingly chipped in. “Make it five.”
More rushing shuffles only made me wish to snicker at how gullible these fools were. They were so desperate to be on top that our words were like the holy grail of perfection and popularity.
“I-I must excuse myself!” Tana announced and formally bowed. “I completely forgot I had a slot scheduled to get on a new designer’s calendar. I best make haste to ensure everything is written in.” With one more bow, she was literally running out of the room, which only left Harold fidgeting in place before he was next to bow.
“My apologies for the sudden departure, but I completely forgot to meet with one of my colleagues. They’re rather knowledgeable in fashion and I want to learn more about the upcoming trends for the new year. It was an honor.”
He was gone with a blink, which left King Lysander to rise before his eyes were specifically on Amos.
“I have some errands to attend to before this intermission ends.” He spoke as if it were in our utmost interest to know what he planned to do with his time. “I’m sure I’ll see you at some point, King Clementine. You won’t be staying outside of Faerie for long after this event is over.”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Amos spoke a little louder to ensure those who were desperate for some gossip would overhear what was about to be shared. “I wasn’t expecting to meet my fated mate here. It would be rather selfish of me to abandon them due to my responsibilities as a ruler. My stepparents are handling things just fine, so we’ll see.”
He shrugged, and while he didn’t hide the wicked gleam that seeped into the lines of his face, I felt as though I were missing something because of the way they peered at one another.
"I’m sure you’ll return after this event, King Lysander. Like you always say, mundane and shifter bickering is rather boring to be around. Our hybrid kind offers far more thrilling entertainment when our world encourages us to survive on rules that fit us far too nicely.”
“I’m sure you’ll be aware of my departure,” King Lysander dryly commented.
“Just as you’ll know about my arrival in Faerie,” Amos countered back before his attention returned to me. “William, shall I accompany you until we regroup with the rest of the pack?”
“It would be an honor,” I commented, but I couldn’t help but continue staring at King Lysander.
Or maybe I was glaring jealous daggers at him, but I wasn’t going to admit that.
"Let’s be quick then. I’ll lead," Amos encouraged as he easily tugged me along. “Farwell, King Lysander.”
“Have an eventful evening, King Amos.”
The lack of formalities in King Lysander's farewell annoyed me, but we were already out of that crowded space and going down a specific hall that was guarded by fae in golden armor with teal accents.
It wasn’t until we entered a small room that I decided to ask what was on my mind.
“What’s between you and King Lysander?”
