House of Shadows (Royal Houses 2)

“All right,” Kerrigan said.

“And we’re sorry about stealing him away,” Prescott said, slinging a casual arm across Kerrigan’s shoulders. “See, we were plotting, and he didn’t want us to meet you.”

“That is not what I said,” Fordham interjected.

“Wants to keep you all to himself,” Prescott said.

“Pres, you’re upsetting him,” Arbor said.

“How can you tell?”

“Are you both finished?” Fordham growled.

“Definitely not,” Arbor said. “But we’ll give you some time since you did abandon her, and now, she has to face your father and Viviana.” Arbor shuddered. “Good luck, sweets.” Then, she kissed Kerrigan on the cheek and vanished with Prescott.

“They’re a pair,” Kerrigan said lightly.

“Indeed.” Fordham took a deep breath. “So, you met my sister?”

“Yes, the one I didn’t know you had.”

“My home is complicated. And when I brought you here, I believed that I could control the narrative. If I could speak to my father first and explain our appearance …” He looked away. “That didn’t happen, and now, you are … I don’t know how to explain it to you.”

“I’ve had it explained. Tonight, I belong to you,” Kerrigan said with her chin lifted.

His eyes smoldered at the insinuation in the words. And for a second, her breath caught at the thought of what it would really mean to belong to him. Not in the sense of him owning her as a half-Fae, which was barbaric and absurd. But owning her in the way that made him look at her like that. Like she could melt into a puddle at his feet with the calm, sure dominance of just one look.

“Yes. Tonight, you are mine.” He stepped forward, bridging the small distance between them. “You don’t seem upset by this.”

She swallowed, staring up into those swirling gray eyes. This was an act, but belonging to Fordham was something that she could pretend very easily. It was everything else that upset her. So, for a second, she let him see the window into her heart. The place where she kept all of that rage for how her people were treated. He inhaled sharply, as if realizing it.

“I have no place for anger tonight,” she said. “Tomorrow and every day after—until we figure out how to stop this hate. But tonight, I can pretend. And then after …”

“After, we will talk to my father. We’ll fix this together.”

Fordham held his arm out, and she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Together, they walked up to the entrance to the ballroom.

“Introducing His Royal Highness, Crowned Prince Fordham Ollivier.”

All eyes turned to face them, taking in their crowned prince and the little half-Fae he had on his arm. The ornament that he had never had before and that would change everything.

Kerrigan ceased to exist in that moment, and Felicity came out of hiding. The Bryonican royal that had been forced to hide her emotions and feelings. This was what it meant to be royal to her—hiding. And she was incredibly good at it. But after tonight, she would be through with it and she would never ever again let them control her like this.

She smiled vapidly, imagining the brainless thing she could have been if she had stayed in Bryonica and been forced to marry Ashby March. She imagined hiding the bruises with makeup and forcing a smile, having to weather his moods and fits of anger. She would have been nothing but a conquest for him. And here, now, that was the appearance she had to put on.

The room was elaborately decorated with long, towering black obsidian columns lining the space and white marble floor. The ceiling had been painted with a long-ago battle—dragons flying into a fight and Fae coming home, victorious. As there were no fireplaces, magic must have heated the giant room. All over, it was glorious and perfectly put together.

Members of the court bustled forward to shake Fordham’s hand and extend congratulations. Several men circled Kerrigan as if she were for sale. A few women even touched her chin, turning her face side to side.

“Such small ears,” one noted. “And completely on display.”

Felicity didn’t care. She pushed Kerrigan’s anger aside and smiled at the woman. All of the women were bejeweled like Wynter, dripping in gemstones. And the pieces that accentuated their pointed Fae ears were clearly the height of fashion. The fact that Kerrigan donned not an ounce of jewelry had to have been deliberate on the twins’ part. She stood out more because she was without adornment than all the women in diamonds around the room.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Arbor said, appearing at Kerrigan’s side as soon as the last insipid courtier moved away. She pushed a goblet into her hand, flush with red punch.

“Faerie punch?” Kerrigan asked hesitantly. Her eyes moved to Fordham, as if to ask whether or not it was safe, but he was currently being accosted by a group of Fae males about some border incident with the other families.