His gaze never leaves his father. “It’s no big deal. We’re immortal, so it’s not like I was going to die. It’s just not very comfortable.”
Without thinking, I lay my hand on his, but this time he flinches and pulls away. I watch as he crosses his arms over his chest, like just the suggestion of openness is too much for him right now.
Not that I blame him. His father is as close to a monster as I can possibly imagine.
Cyrus, meanwhile, is having a great time as he continues. “When Hudson was born, we all knew he was special. So we had his blood stored in a bloodstone for eternity—the very bloodstone, in fact, that the Lords have donated for this year’s tournament!”
He pauses, arms up, as he waits for the audience to erupt. A portion of them do, cheering and whistling at his words. Others slouch down in their chairs, try to look invisible, like they’re terrified of attracting his or his dead son’s attention. I expect that to piss him off, but Cyrus pauses, stands up to his full height again, and bathes in their adoration and their terror. It doesn’t seem to matter what kind of attention he’s getting, as long as he’s getting a lot of it.
It’s the most bizarre and terrible thing I think I’ve ever seen.
“What better way to celebrate this amazing tournament?” Cyrus continues. “And also, of course, to welcome the newest member of our paranormal community—the first gargoyle born in over one thousand years. Mate to my son, niece to our amazing headmaster. How lucky are we to be here to witness this miracle? I can’t wait to meet our young Grace.”
Where Hudson was still before, now he has a violent reaction to his father’s words, everything in him rising up to reject what Cyrus said, especially as people around the audience start looking for me.
“Get down, Grace,” he hisses. “Pull your robe up around your face. I don’t want him to see you.”
“If I pull my robe up around my face, I’m going to look a lot more obvious than I do now,” I shoot back. “Just chill. The assembly is almost over.”
On the stage, Cyrus is introducing Nuri and Aidan Montgomery, a mixed-race couple who I realize with some astonishment are Flint’s parents. The witches, Imogen and Linden Choi, are next, followed by werewolves Angela and Willow Martinez.
As I stare at the eight people onstage, I realize for the first time that each is with their mate. “I forgot only mated pairs can be on the Circle,” I whisper to Hudson. “I can’t remember, is that a law?”
“Pretty much,” he answers, completely disgruntled. “You don’t have to be mated to get on the Council, but you have to pass a Trial that is impossible to pass by yourself. And since the only person who can help you in the Trial is your mate…you see the conundrum.”
“All mated pairs on the Circle.”
“Exactly. And if you get on as a pair and your mate dies, you stay for one more year until a new mated pair can compete to replace you.”
I have more questions for Hudson, but Cyrus is wrapping up the assembly, and Hudson is pushing at me to “get the hell out.” I still think he’s overreacting, at least until Cyrus says, “Thank you all for coming. Have a great day. And, Grace Foster, if you don’t mind, can you please come up to the stage for a few minutes? We really are eager to meet you!”
Hudson curses and I freeze, neither of which is a particularly helpful strategy for dealing with the fact that the king has just pretty much ordered me to the stage. “What do I do?” I ask Hudson once I absorb the shock.
“Get up, get out, and don’t look back,” he tells me.
“Are you sure?” But I follow his directions, all but diving into the throng of students crowding the walkway.
“Very sure,” he answers. “An empty auditorium when everyone else is in class is not the time to face my father. Now go, go, go.”
I do as he says, making a beeline for one of the auditorium doors. Just before I reach it, I turn around to get a glimpse of what Cyrus is doing and what he’s planning to do if I don’t show up.
It’s a bad move on my part, though, because the second I turn, our gazes collide. And recognition flashes on his face, along