“Nick Abernathy seeing me with you—and off campus too—seems like a priority.”
“I’ll handle Daidí. He’s the one who brought you to meet me in the first place.” Her picture was about to be in a magazine or up on an online site. Daidí would be livid, but it was too late to undo it, so she tugged Creed with her, and they went to the Row House.
Just inside the door stood Roan. His surfer attitude made it hard to tell how he felt, but then he pulled her into a hug. “Thank Ninian that you’re here!”
“Kamy said Zephyr was upset.”
“Drunk,” Roan corrected. “Zeph is drunk and if not for Kam’s ability to leash him, he’d have her naked on the dance floor right now.”
“Zephyr doesn’t drink.” Creed scowled. “He’s upset, but—”
“I watched him pound booze like you did the last few months. I know drunk, Creed. You’ve given us plenty of firsthand examples of what it looks like.”
When Lily looked his way, Creed muttered, “I didn’t take your rejection well.”
“You’re all mad. Every last one of you.” Roan shook his head, stared at them a moment longer, and gestured to the back left corner of the club. “Come on. Vi and Will are over by the door. We didn’t want to all go in there . . . yet.”
“Yet you all think he’s mine?” Lily laughed. “He and Alkamy are in love.”
Creed caught her hand, and they twisted their way through the crowd on the floor. Unlike Lily, Will, and Roan, Creed’s face was well known enough that cameras were flashing and girls were reaching out to touch him.
A sudden gust of wind nudged them back.
Roan glanced over his shoulder, past Lily to stare at Creed. “You?”
As she turned to see Creed, he shrugged. He didn’t meet her eyes, but his action was clear enough: it was up to her whether or not she owned up to what she’d just done.
Creed, wisely, said nothing.
She hadn’t thought to push the crowd away. She’d simply done so between one breath and the next, and she had no desire to explain it to anyone.
Behind her, Creed leaned closer to her. “There are no others like you, Lilywhite. Not for me.”
For a heartbeat too long, she stayed still, letting the heat of Creed’s body press against her. If things were different, if she wasn’t who and what she was, if he was just a boy, if neither of them were fae-born, she’d stay here on the dance floor. But Zephyr needed her. Whatever else he was, they were family, and she had a duty to her family. Her father had always insisted that she keep that belief foremost.
Now that she knew what she was, who her mother was, every lesson Daidí had taught her seemed more important.
Abernathy Commandment #4: Weigh the consequences before beginning a course of action.
Lily stepped away from Creed and said, “We need to talk to Zephyr. All of us.”
Violet grabbed Lily’s arm and leaned in to tell her, “I don’t know what happened tonight, but our boy is totaled.”
“Come on,” Lily ordered. “All of you.”
The look on Violet’s face made it abundantly clear that following Lily into that room wasn’t a plan she liked, but she did so nonetheless. They’d all been taught that Lily was their leader as much as Zephyr was, and Lily—despite not being told the full truth about why—had been taught to lead.
She pushed open the door, and the three boys and Violet followed her inside. Zephyr was stretched out on the floor. His head was cushioned in Alkamy’s lap.
Alkamy herself was murmuring soothing words to the blurry-eyed boy and stroking his hair. “It’s not his fault! He was drunk and—”
“Stop. The next person that suggests there’s a reason my cousin should be faithful to me is going to get smacked.” Lily folded her arms over her chest. “Zephyr is not, and will not, be anything other than friend and family to me.”
“Cousin?” Will prompted.
“Zephyr’s father is the queen’s son,” Lily said. “My uncle.”
“That’s impossible. The heir has no children,” Violet pointed out in a strained voice.
“True. Her older sister had one though.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Their expressions were a mixture of confusion and thoughtfulness. Then, Roan whistled. “Holy Ninian . . . The queen’s firstborn lived and . . .”
“And is my mother,” Lily finished.
“So you’re the . . . heir.” Violet breathed the words. Her gaze dropped to Zephyr. “And you’re . . .”
“The queen’s grandson.”
Violet whistled. “The queen can have more Unseelie than Seelie blood on the Hidden Throne if you mate. You might as well exchange vows now.”
This time Lily was silent. She couldn’t deny the fact that the queen—her grandmother—probably thought the same thing. However, Lily wasn’t going to cooperate with that plan. She wasn’t interested in Zephyr before she was aware that he was her cousin. She was even less interested now that they were family.
Her gaze shot to Creed, who was watching her. Silently, she shook her head. He stepped closer to her protectively, as if the threat were a physical one. It wasn’t, but his action made her feel better all the same.
Then Zephyr looked up at her from his prone position and slurred, “Vi’s right, cousin. We might as well start shopping for rings.”
Then he closed his eyes and passed out in Alkamy’s lap.
twenty-eight
EILIDH
By the time they’d left the Sleepers, Eilidh was ready to curl up in her tower and ignore both worlds temporarily. That, unfortunately, wasn’t an option, so she did as the named heir to the two courts should do: she turned to her betrothed and her brother and said, “We should figure out the next step.”
Rhys frowned. “Tonight changes nothing.”
“You have a son, one Mother has been willing to sacrifice, one she has kept hidden from you,” Eilidh said as they entered the Hidden Lands.
“Yes.” Rhys slid his longsword free. The sibilant sound of fae-wrought steel against the scabbard was something that always felt like home to Eilidh. For as long as she could recall, there had been guards who stood at the ready when she was at any official functions. Both Rhys and Torquil had been among them. The elegant sound of drawing weapons was a sound that had always meant “safe” to her. Maybe it would be different if she’d ever been attacked, but up until now, weapons were drawn to practice or to guard her.
“Is that necessary?” Torquil asked.
Rhys glanced his way for a fraction of an instant, but said nothing. He obviously felt it was necessary, or he wouldn’t have drawn the blade.
“Did you see someone?” Eilidh prompted in a voice that was a shade quieter than a whisper.
Again Rhys said nothing.