Prince of Air and Darkness (The Darkest Court)

“Gumba and Herman finished their last finals today. Want to come celebrate with us?”

I gesture toward my desk. “I still have some work to finish—”

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s one night. The world isn’t going to end because you let yourself relax for a few hours.”

I need to argue. I need to throw another excuse at him so he walks away. I need to watch him leave with his friends and then I need to return to those damn papers because once I say no, the temptation to fight for every inch will be too strong.

“Lyne. Look at me.”

Goddess help me, I do. He’s just as surprised, eyes widening a bit before relaxing, laugh lines creasing the corners when he beams back at me.

“One night,” he repeats. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”

And people fear faerie deals.

“Fine,” I mumble, grabbing a jacket out of my closet.

“Wait... Really?”

I hide my blush and stuff my arms through the sleeves. “Yes, Smith. I’ll go out tonight. I want—” This. I want one night for myself, one night when I can pretend it’s all going to be okay even if I know it’s a lie.

I swallow hard and try again. “I want the distraction.”

He laughs and leads me toward the surprised group waiting in the living room. “I’ll do my best.”

* * *

Watching the dance floor lights in Domovoi’s play over Smith’s hair, I’m forced to admit that he was right. The evening has been fun. I had worried it would be lonely, but I underestimated Smith’s friends. Once Smith explained I wanted a “night off” from all things royal, they made it their personal mission to ensure I’m free to be... I’m not even sure. Normal? Relaxed?

I sneak a glance at Smith as he smiles at a particularly pushy Unseelie who asked to speak with me and was told to wait until tomorrow. Okay, it’s not really a smile. More of a feral grin, the kind that promises pain. He seems larger for some reason when he stares down my would-be supplicant, confidence broadening his shoulders as he provides a physical barricade between me and my duty. The ley line sparks like a damaged wire, though, which isn’t the best sign. Every time it’s felt like that during our practices, something wound up on fire. I keep an eye on the napkins while listening to the steady flow of conversation of the group surrounding me. Smith eventually scares the Unseelie off, but even when he turns back to us and gulps down the rest of his beer, I can’t push the buzz of that unstable power from my head. No one else notices it.

“Thank Zeus that nightmare’s over.” The satyr, Herman, slumps back in his chair and manages a tired smile when his girlfriend, Sue—who is far too observant for my taste—settles in his lap. “Let’s get freaking plastered and pretend that final didn’t kick my caprine ass.”

Gumba nods. “Agreed.”

Gumba and Sebastian, the nature faerie Smith seems especially friendly with, offer to get the first round of drinks; after quiet discussion with Herman, Sue decides to tag along with them. I can’t help noticing the way Herman and Smith exchange a look when the three of them wander away.

“She’ll keep an eye out,” Herman says.

“Are you worried about them?” I ask. Clearly something’s off, so I stand up to look for them in the crowd. “Should I go help?”

Smith tugs at my sleeve, urging me to sit. “It’s fine. Just a bit of a different crowd tonight, that’s all.”

We sit quietly while we wait for their return. The dance floor seems plenty busy, but there’s no shortage of open tables. I’d suggest we take one closer to the bar so they don’t have to walk as far, but Smith and Herman seem content to stay here, using the railing and walls to provide us with space from the rest of the crowd.

Eventually our companions reappear with a fresh pitcher of beer and empty glasses. Sebastian groans when he sits back down. He’s not a threat, but I still don’t like the glances I see him and Smith exchanging from time to time. “Finny, is it good or bad that I was really confident about that nutrient cycling test?”

“Not sure. Either means you knew it well, or you were too stupid to know you didn’t know it.”

Sebastian responds by flicking a pretzel toward him; Smith grins and catches it out of the air. I’m so busy watching his fingers as he uncurls his fist and flings the pretzel toward his mouth, I nearly miss Sue’s question.

“Wasn’t your last final yesterday, Your Highness?” she asks.

I nod. “Ancient Sumerian.” She waits for more detail, as if it will help her piece me together faster. “The logograms weren’t that difficult. My accent was a bit rusty, though.”

“Missing most of the term will do that,” Gumba acknowledges. The others nod in agreement. Smith barely inclines his head, but I glamour over my blush when he doesn’t look away. Needing a moment to collect myself, I announce abruptly, “Next round’s on me. Decide which taste of the top shelf you want.”

Sue smiles like a schoolgirl. “Top shelf, huh?”