They’re fully aware of the laws set in place and strive their hardest to keep their kind in line; a common goal we all share for the sake of this amended monarchy. And because of their efforts, Rosewood is a peaceful land most of the time.
But every now and again, history serves to reawaken grudges at the worst times possible, and we certainly don’t need that happening during the gala.
“My people won’t be an issue,” says Phillipe. “But I’m sure you already knew that seeing as they aren’t free to roam.”
Soft gasps resound at his candor, drawing stares of all shapes and colors back and forth between us. Even Marlena, who’s known for her smart mouth, seems genuinely shocked he’d speak up in such a manner.
Phillipe, on the other hand, seems pleased with himself. Amber irises gleam almost victoriously, a challenging smirk adorning one corner of his mouth.
I should’ve let him rot in the Hollow.
A low growl builds deep in my chest as I square my shoulders and savor my words. I can be an impulsive bastard at times, especially when provoked, but I refuse to be reduced to such by a noxious ingrate who should be worshipping my feet for his freedom. “If you’d like to ensure you’re no longer able to roam, either—please, do continue with your waggish remarks.”
His face falls instantly.
In seconds flat, his entire demeanor darkens, too. The way his eyes flash, narrowing to slits as the golden markings gilding his forehead come to life, I’m positive the monster within is about to unleash.
I feel my own inner beast unfurl at the possible threat, fangs elongating, veins beneath my eyes engorging and rippling as my vision tunnels on his form.
“My apologies that the truth seems to trigger you, Captain, but do you really expect me not to speak out when my people are starving?” he growls in argument.
“They’re starving of their own accord,” I counter. “One too many times you were warned to keep them in line, and you did nothing but stand there as innocent lives, children’s lives, were lured by magic and taken for sustenance. That’s some sick, pedophilic—”
I’m cut short by his venomous chortle. “Pedophilic, are you serious? You act as though we’re defiling them prior.”
“Whether you are or not, it’s the principle of the matter. Children are off limits and yet your kind continues preying on them!”
Slamming his fists on the table, the Fae Lord shoots to his feet, his chair clattering back several feet. “Can none of you see this logically, from our point of view?” he asks around the table. “Children are pure. Their purity is the ultimate sustenance. It cleanses us, allows us full access to our—”
“I don’t care if it makes you the strongest species on this goddamned island! Children. Are. Off. Limits,” I grit, barely withholding myself from abandoning my seat and tossing him into the nearest wall. “Perhaps this boundary spell will finally teach you all a valuable lesson.”
“Gentleman, please,” Beatrix’s kindly voice erupts before her husband can fire back, grand wings fluttering behind her. “This topic has been and will always be sensitive. It’s not something we’re going to agree on right now, if ever at all.”
“Agreed,” Persia chimes in. “Again, also not what we came here to discuss today. What’s done is done, Phillipe. I understand the situation isn’t pleasant but—”
“Easy for you to say when you’re the one responsible for the spell,” he sneers.
The witch doesn’t react, she doesn’t so much as flinch. Instead, she cuts her gaze my way, questioningly.
Requesting permission to drive the stake further.
Without hesitation, I motion toward Phillipe and tip my head. “Be my guest.”
Probably shouldn’t have, but—he asked for it.
Satisfied, Persia smiles gratefully and returns her fire on the Fae. “Sit,” she commands, tapping his end of the table.
He moves instantaneously, reclaiming the strewn chair to take his place, but the befuddled expression formed on his face reveals it’s not so willingly.
Marlena and I share a chuckle in realization.
Natano, the chief, doesn’t seem too amused by her tactics, but then again he never is. Now more than ever given I have his daughter.
The moment Phillipe plants his ass in place, Persia goes in, her voice deathly quiet. “If you for one moment think you can guilt me, you’re highly mistaken. My daughter’s life was in danger—you’re damn right I’m responsible, proudly so. If you have any hope of freeing your people from damnation, I suggest you demand change and find proper nutrition elsewhere. As the Captain said… Children.