glancing at me through the web of bobbing service fae passing around twinkling golden orbs. Her blue eyes widened before they snapped back over to Neenee Lily. My aunt rolled her fingers into fists, probably to keep herself from signing the reason for this strange dinner—which I assumed she was privy to since she’d designed my dress.
Clutching her goblet of faerie wine, Faith’s eyes cut across the room toward her eldest son, who had his head bent next to his grandfather’s, probably discussing the cleverness of their crown embezzlement venture. If they actually thought I would go through with the wedding, they had another thing coming.
The air churned as powerful wings propelled Neverra’s one and only dragon onto the glass deck beyond the curved glass wall. Remo’s little brother Karsyn, who’d been riding on his father’s black-scaled back, hopped off and traipsed through the open sash windows toward his mother, leveling a serrated little glower my way.
A cloud of shimmery smoke billowed around the draca, blurring his dark contours, shrinking him back into human flesh. Tightening the leather tie binding his shoulder-length brown hair, Silas entered the pavilion, inclining his head toward the assembled crowd. As he strode toward Remo, Faith intercepted him, shackling his wrist. Her hissed words were lost amidst a fanfare of loud stomps.
A line of lucionaga climbed up the sweeping glass stairs, forming an aisle through which Nima and Iba walked arm-in-arm, sporting matching golden leaf circlets and decorous smiles. Nima’s grin lost some of its power when she noticed Faith, and then it wilted entirely when her black eyes landed on me. Her body grew so stiff so fast that when she whipped her face toward Iba, I worried her head would unscrew itself from her neck. Iba winced, even though Nima hadn’t even opened her mouth.
The dust locked in the tattoo wreathing her neck seemed to pulse harder. So hard that for a second I actually worried for Iba’s safety, but for all her temper, my mother possessed unrivaled self-control. Iba placed his glowing palm atop Nima’s forearm, above her second tattoo, spoils from the battle she’d waged to free our kingdom of the cloying mist. Anguish lit up her dark features and made the W on her hand flare like a beacon.
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice.” Iba’s knuckles whitened as though he was physically restraining Nima. “Some of you might have guessed the occasion from the color of my daughter’s magnificent dress.”
He winked at his sister, whose face was much too drawn to register the compliment.
“Tonight, I called you over to celebrate a momentous event in my family’s life—the engagement of my beautiful Amara to a loyal subject of the crown, Remo Farrow.”
The vein at Remo’s temple fluttered his birthmark. I suspected he hadn’t appreciated being referred to as a loyal subject of the crown.
Nima turned the same shade as Giya’s dress, which made her tipped eyes appear black, and then the veins in her hands ignited, a luminescent blue.
Oppressive silence ensued after Iba’s short speech, but it didn’t last long. Soon it was punctured by one long roll of thunder that had everyone looking at the incoming clouds. The lucionaga who’d remained on the deck filed into the pavilion to slide the glass doors shut. Neverrians were surely wondering why another storm was forming when the last one had just abated. Or perhaps they were too busy running to find cover to wonder about the weather, and which Daneelie was causing it.
Aylen clapped. She’d loved Stella, and even though she’d heard Nima’s stories, her fond memories of Faith’s mother made it impossible for her to hate the Farrows. Shiloh and Nana Em clapped along politely and so did Pappy, although he wore a big frown that pleated his suntanned brow.
“Is this my niece’s choice, or yours, Ace?” Geemee Kaji’s voice cut through the applause.
“She is the crown princess, brother,” Iba answered.
A look passed between the two men. A look that made Geemee Kaji’s corded arms tighten in front of his massive chest, the myriad of confiscated Seelie dusts writhing in their tracks. Unlike Nima, he couldn’t use the dust he ensnared. Merely stored it until he felt the misbehaving Seelie deserved their power back.
Where Gregor and Silas governed the royal guard, Geemee Kaji, along with a handful of other Unseelies, ran the Neverrian police. He was trying to get his twins to join, but Giya had zero interest in patrolling the kingdom, and Sook was much too passionate