Page 60 of Magic Forsaken

“Or maybe that you’re just really bad at your job?” It was hard to be annoyed when I could hear a hint of genuine humor in his tone.

So I shrugged. “I did warn you.”

“You did.”

I finally glanced up. He looked a little amused, but also just a little bit exasperated.

“Get in the car, Kendrick.”

I decided to let the dragon win before he ate me.

It was onlya short drive to The Skirvin—the iconic luxury hotel where most of the delegates were staying—and I spent most of it worrying about messing up the upholstery of Callum’s absurdly fancy SUV. There were only two seats in the back, plus fold-away desks, a retractable tv screen, a refrigerator, and a privacy barrier between the passengers and the driver.

Part of me felt like I should be sitting up front with the rest of the hired help, but at least the windows were dark enough that no one could see me breaking the rules.

This time, when the driver pulled up to the curb, I bolted out of my seat first and opened the door. Callum shot me an amused look as he stepped out, but didn’t argue, merely straightened his suit jacket and strode through the dark framed entryway into the building.

The lobby area featured tall ceilings and gorgeous wood paneling, with black and white tiled floors and terra-cotta red accents. Comfortable couches and potted palms formed a deceptively casual seating area across from the front desk, with its polished wood and black granite desktop.

After a quick word with a uniformed staff member, we stepped from the lobby into the aptly named Red Piano Lounge, where a bright red grand piano stood in the corner. Wood floors and brown leather couches completed the look of historic western elegance, but it was not the decor that caught my attention.

It was the man standing beside the bar.

Or rather, the fae.

It was the same fae I’d seen in the park the week before. The one who’d recognized Kes, and the one she was so desperate not to see again.

Prince Rath. Son of Dathair and Elayara. Once he’d stood within inches of being king, and now he waited. No one knew when or whether Dathair would step down again, and I could only wonder what sort of bitterness that might breed in the heart of an ambitious young royal.

In addition to the facts I’d learned about him as a part of my education, Kes had told me that he was fierce and dangerous, and an accomplished actor. He’d spent years convincing the court that he was soft and harmless, even though this present version of him looked anything but.

He’d chosen to forego glamour yet again, and up close, his scars were even more evident. Those four lines must have nearly taken his sight, and perhaps not for lack of trying. His ears, too, no longer had the elegant tapered points of a full fae, but appeared to have been cut off and reshaped into the slight points of a half fae, like Kes’s. Curiously, the austere, close-cut white hair only emphasized the evidence of violence—as if on purpose.

Why, I wondered, had his father decided he wasn’t ready to take the crown? Did he believe his younger son was untrained or incompetent? Or was it something altogether more sinister? And why, in a place where most Idrians concealed themselves through glamour, did Prince Rath choose to appear without it?

Also, what had he been doing here, in Oklahoma City, more than ten days before the Symposium was set to begin?

“Rath.” Callum stepped towards him, and as I watched, his shoulders seemed to relax. Something about the rigid set of his jaw eased, and a genuine almost-smile crossed his face. “Glad you were able to make it.”

I suppose that might explain what Rath was doing here. These two were friends?

“I, and the remainder of the fae delegation, are pleased to accept the hospitality of the Shadow Court,” Rath said, offering the barest of smiles in return, along with a slight tilt of his head.

He accepted a drink from the bartender and gestured towards one of the tables. “Would you care to sit? Can I order you a drink?”

“No, thank you. I’ve never cared for alcohol.”

Rath shrugged. “Human liquors are never as complex or effective as our own, but they have their charms.”

They took a seat across from one another at a small, round table. Rath sat first, with his back to the wall, which left Callum’s back exposed. I didn’t like it, and there was nowhere for me to hover unobtrusively, so I simply stood behind his chair and tried to imitate what I’d seen from bodyguards in movies—rigid spine paired with a blank, stoic expression.

Since I was neither a dragon nor a large, muscular, male human, the effect was probably not very intimidating.

The fae prince took a sip of his drink before setting it down and regarding me with a slightly raised brow.

“And who is your charming companion?” he inquired of Callum. “I can’t tell whether I’m meant to be intimidated, curious, or amused.”

I shifted my gaze to meet his. Gray eyes, sharp and measuring. The pain I’d glimpsed before was buried now, leaving only the razor edge of a keen mind that had been playing political games probably before he could walk.

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