“Ditto,” I said sweetly, knocking my glass so hard against his, wine sloshed over the rim and soaked the sleeve of his tunic.
His fire steamed away the damp spot but failed to lift his thickening displeasure. After the toast, I turned my back on Remo and spoke exclusively with my grandfather, who explained the origin of toasting—a way to check if drinks were poisoned—before sharing tons of other fun human facts, which had my cousins leaning closer.
Even though I was focused on Pappy, I couldn’t help but overhear pieces of Remo’s conversation with Shiloh, who sat on his other side. They mostly spoke about her bath products company, and how doing business with humans was so much easier than with faeries, which led them to talking about Earth, and did she miss living there?
My bracelet vibrated with an incoming message: So?
Joshua was relentless.
ME: I’m in the middle of dinner.
JOSH: Don’t forget, prinsisa. But in case you do . . .
My stomach spasmed as though someone had just punched me.
JOSH: I’ll remind you. ;)
I quickly shut down our chat. How unfortunate that faerie bargains could be claimed from such a distance. I looked around the table. Now was as good a time as any to check Josh’s suspicions. Since Iba, Nima, Gregor, and Silas were here, most of the lucionaga in the kingdom were, too. Which meant the coast was somewhat clear.
6
The Little Brother
Faelights bobbed like luminous raindrops around me as I made my way down the glass stairs and past the slender wooden pillars that supported the sides of the pavilion. I’d thankfully gotten rid of my guards, insisting I needed no escort to use the bathroom, which rose from the soft earth like a mushroom stalk, bearing most of the weight of the fan-shaped cap. I skirted the structure’s moss-coated walls, hoping no lucionaga lurked amidst the tall, jagged flowers ringing the fence of artfully crisscrossed stilts at the far end.
Right as I peeked between the crisscrossed slats, a thin voice called out my name. I turned to find Remo’s ten-year-old brother trotting toward me, one hand held behind his back. Although he shared certain facial traits with Remo, like my fiancé’s straight nose and thick, low eyebrows, his coloring was entirely Silas’s.
“What is it, Karsyn?”
“My brother doesn’t like you. He’ll never like you.”
One of my eyebrows jolted up. “And?” I stared impatiently toward the calimbors that stood like giant sentinels against the violet sky. I had minutes left before someone upstairs questioned my toilet break.
“And I can’t let him ruin his life.”
I gave the kid my full attention now. “Ruin his life? Because you think I want to marry your brother?” I flapped my hand to shoo him off. “Go back to the party, Karsyn, and mind your own business.”
“I love my brother,” he said, advancing toward me.
“Lucky Remo.”
“And that’s why I need to do this.” He whipped a long dagger from behind his back and aimed it at my ribcage.
My shoulders banged against wood as I caught the blade with my bare hands. Karsyn gave a hard shove, and the tip snagged my dress’s bodice. Smoke curled around my knuckles, and blood dribbled through my fingers.
“Karsyn, put your dust away before I magnetize it!” I barely moved my lips as I yelled, afraid to inhale the wita. Although it wouldn’t kill me, breathing in too much would make me black out, and this was really not the moment to become unconscious.
“My dust?” He laughed. The kid laughed. “I may be young but I’m not stupid, prinsisa. My dagger isn’t made of wita.”
I gaped down at the blade I was holding, my fear receding. Obviously, Karsyn wasn’t the sharpest adamans in the field if he thought he could kill me with a normal weapon. Jabbing my heart with metal would hurt but it wouldn’t end me.
Ticked off now, I said, “You’re gonna be locked up, Karsyn.”
“I don’t care. As long as you’re dead, I don’t care what happens to me.”
I didn’t even think Remo hated me as much as this boy, but perhaps he did. Perhaps he’d sent his little brother after me. The fact that no lucionaga came to my rescue solidified this theory. I had screamed, hadn’t I?
Grunting, I pushed hard on the dagger, trying to drive back the little brat. How had I let myself get cornered by a ten-year-old? The answer was that I hadn’t deemed him a threat. Stupid me. I tried to toss the blade sideways, but the kid’s arms