reclined against the bar, propping his elbows on the black glass. “Are you going to gas me for voicing what everyone else is thinking?”
Even though I disliked Remo, I disliked bullying more. “Stop it, Josh.”
“I’m merely defending your honor.”
“I can defend my own honor,” I said.
Remo’s fingers flexed. “So can I, Trifecta.”
“Whatever.” I started to walk away, when Josh called out, “Don’t forget our date tonight.”
My stomach rolled from the reminder—a mix of nerves and magic. Had he needed to use the word date? Actually, it was probably better everyone considered my meetups with Josh that way so they didn’t question my true motive.
Denim-guy, who was still hanging around the entrance of York House, looked on as we left.
“Eyes off her ass. She’s not legal,” Remo snarled before lengthening his strides to catch up to me.
Not that he actually cared if people ogled me. He just enjoyed throwing around his weight and power in Neverra and on Earth. Power he got from being Gregor’s favorite grandson and the draca’s stepson.
I’d had many talks with my father about having Remo demoted, but he’d said that unless Faith’s son committed a grave mistake, he couldn’t lawfully have him kicked out of the guard. He’d even told me to prepare myself for Remo becoming the next wariff, and then he’d warned me that certain enemies made excellent allies in politics. I didn’t understand how he’d put up with Gregor, and told him that if I ever became queen—I was in no hurry to take my father’s place—and Remo was wariff, I’d have him fired. My father had sighed and reminded me that I was young and naïve and had so much to learn about running a kingdom. I’d stomped out of his chambers.
That was thirty Earthly years ago—I’d been eleven years old. I’d never brought up Remo Farrow since, even though I watched the lucionaga like a quila, waiting for him to slip. Unfortunately, Remo was extremely careful, as though he knew I was paying attention to his every move.
“Is your father aware of the sort of men you’re dating?” Remo asked.
“It’s none of Iba’s business who I date.”
“I beg to differ. Who you date reflects on the crown.”
I slanted him a look. “Spare me the unsolicited advice.”
“If your father asks, I won’t lie.”
I rolled my eyes. “Knowing you, Iba wouldn’t even have to ask; you’ll volunteer the information.”
“If I suspect your tryst endangers the crown, then I’ll share my concerns.”
If the elevated Old York sidewalks weren’t crawling with people, I would’ve run back to the portal to avoid enduring a single more minute in Remo’s presence. “Enjoy your days of power, Farrow. Once I’m crowned, you’ll be lucky if you get a job taxiing a runa.”
Remo smirked, obviously not taking my threat seriously. Why would he? He didn’t take me seriously. “How did you even get into York House, Trifecta?”
If he was trying to get a confession out of me, a confession that could lead to a hefty fine and an argument with my parents, he could hold his breath. I masked my annoyance under a plasticky smile. “I promised the owner I’d hang out with him after my date with Josh.”
Remo’s nostrils flared. I could tell he was thinking vile thoughts about me, probably lining up some new rumors about the princess’ loose morals and limbs. There was nothing the petty tyrant enjoyed more than smearing my good name.
I used to care but didn’t anymore. Or at least, I cared less. “And my name is Amara. Use it.”
He smirked. “You’ll always be Trifecta to me.”
“Technically, Trifecta’s wrong since I’m also part human.”
“I’m aware, but Quadfecta doesn’t roll off the tongue as nicely.”
I stopped walking so suddenly that Remo ended up a couple feet ahead of me. Keeping my voice low so that the three lucionaga trailing us couldn’t hear, I said, “I wish Nima hadn’t stopped at your grandmother; I wish she’d eliminated every last one of you.”
Remo’s lips thinned, and a vein pulsed at his temple, underneath his raspberry-shaped birthmark.
I almost felt guilty, but the Farrows—Gregor, Faith, Remo, and even his little brother Karsyn—were all hateful and manipulative. The sort of family who felt like they were owed the crown, and whom I suspected one day would try to steal it. Not that I’d let them.
I conjured up my dust, cloaked myself in it to make humans believe they were looking at a flock of pigeons, then pushed off the sidewalk and flew over the passing magnetic train. When I