HOUSE OF SHADOWS (Royal Houses #2)

1. The Celebration

1

The Celebration

“You just won the dragon tournament. What are you going to do next?”

Kerrigan swatted at Clover. “Stop it. You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m not ridiculous. I’m beyond excited for my best friend.” Clover leaned back against the bar. Her dark bob hanging severely in front of her face, her smile the brightest Kerrigan had ever seen.

When Clover, Hadrian, and Darby had pulled her out of Draco Mountain, Kerrigan had tried to match their enthusiasm. A day earlier, she’d been fighting for her life in a tournament she hadn’t entered. She had ended victorious, becoming the first half-Fae full member of the Society and a dragon rider. In two week’s time, she was going to start a year of dragon training. It sounded miraculous. If only there wasn’t about a million reasons it was anything but.

“Come on, Ker,” Hadrian said. His blue hair was coifed elegantly against the golden brown of his skin. The cravat at his neck, half-undone, was the only indication of his inebriation. “Don’t look like that. We’re celebrating.”

“Agreed,” Darby said. “I’m out, aren’t I? If this isn’t a reason to overindulge, I don’t know what is.”

Darby’s midnight skin was coated in a gold shimmer, and her long black tresses gleamed in the dying firelight. She technically wasn’t even supposed to be out with them now that she was a member of a royal Bryonican family, but she’d flouted authority and gone out to celebrate.

It wasn’t every day that a Dragon Blessed from the House of Dragons became a full-fledged member of the Society—the governmental body of the city of Kinkadia and all of Alandria. Actually, it had never happened. It wasn’t even supposed to happen. The House of Dragons was a feeder program for underprivileged Fae to move up in the world. It had worked for Hadrian and Darby, but Kerrigan wasn’t like her friends. She was only half-Fae, and no one had wanted her.

“Seriously, you need to let the last forty-eight hours go and have another drink,” Clover said, pushing an ale toward her. “Everyone else is buying anyway.”

Which was true. The dragon tournament was the most lauded event in Alandrian history. The winners were treated like heroes, and everyone wanted to celebrate, which meant drink after drink after drink. She could feel that she had overindulged.

“My head is already spinning,” she said with a laugh.

Hadrian rolled his eyes. “When has that ever stopped you?”

She raised a pint to him. “Fair point.”

Kerrigan tipped back the ale and took a long drink. It was the good stuff. Not the swill she and Clover normally drank in the Wastes. No, tonight, they’d had to forgo the underground pit, where Clover worked as a card dealer, for a more reputable tavern. They’d ended up in The Dragon Scales on the Square in Central Kinkadia. It was fancier than anywhere but a royal home but still just a tavern. The same sort of customers and the same sort of drink.

Kerrigan set her half-finished drink on the bar and forced down a yawn. She was about to suggest that they all join the dancing outside when a man sent her drink sprawling.

“Scales,” Kerrigan gasped. She jumped away from the spilled ale, but it was too late. The drink coated her dress and down one side of her body.

“Hey, watch what you’re doing!” Clover snarled at the man.

The man stood to his considerable height, more than a head taller than Kerrigan. His ears were severely pointed, a clear indicator that he was full-blooded Fae. His skin was creamy white and eyes the darkest brown, and he was currently glaring at Kerrigan, having already discarded Clover’s comment.

“Your kind isn’t welcome in this establishment,” he said coldly.

Kerrigan straightened up. “My kind?”

“We’ve been here all night,” Hadrian said as if he hadn’t heard the insinuation about her being half-Fae. “If you have a problem with that, then you can go somewhere else.”

“They should never defile the Society halls with someone like you, leatha.”

A sharp intake of breath was heard all around Kerrigan. A buzzing filled her ears at the horrid word. It was ancient Fae language, originally meaning half-Fae, but modern connotation had made it a slur, more commonly meaning half-breed b***h. It wasn’t slung around in polite society.

Most people in this fancy tavern probably hadn’t heard it spoken aloud, except in jest. Not that Kerrigan ever found those jests funny. But Kerrigan had heard the word enough not to flinch from it.

“Creative,” she crooned. She was too tipsy for this. “I’m so glad that you don’t get a vote.”

He took a menacing step forward, but she just laughed. It was the wrong move. She had known it somewhere deep in her brain that laughing at this man would provoke him, but did he think he was frightening? She’d won the dragon tournament, and not that he knew this, but she was a prized fighter in the Wastes. He couldn’t touch her. His overconfidence was almost endearing, if not suicidal.

“I’ll give you something to laugh at,” he said and then threw his fist toward her face.

She was drunk, not incapacitated.

She fluidly slid out of his reach. Her reflexes were a half-second slower than normal, but it wasn’t like he was Prince Fordham Ollivier. Fordham was the only person besting her four out of five bouts. This was just a Fae male who thought he was better than her.

The male overcorrected for the missed punch and tried to throw another one. She caught his fist in her hand and wrenched it sideways. He cried out.

“That isn’t very nice,” she slurred slightly. “Someone should teach you some manners.”

She jerked the man forward, bringing her knee up to his face with a satisfying crunch. Then, she threw him to the ground at her feet. She could have finished it then with the adrenaline coursing through her, but Darby put a hand on her shoulder.

“Kerrigan, everyone’s watching,” she whispered.

She came back to herself then, stepping away from the man. Her hands were shaking from the fight. It had happened in a matter of seconds, and she hadn’t even needed to use her magic. But this wasn’t the kind of place that erupted into brawls. The room had quieted, and all eyes were on her. They hadn’t seen this brute attack her, but they’d sure seen her finish it. Were they seeing a Society member enacting justice? Or a half-Fae getting revenge, knowing that no one could stop her now?

She shook her head and backed away from the man on the ground. He’d earned his beating, but she couldn’t be the pit fighter anymore. She had to uphold the Society laws. Gods, she’d messed up.

And the fire in the man’s eyes said that he hated her all the more. Just like these entitled Fae males always did.

“Let’s get out of here,” Clover said. Her hand landed on Kerrigan’s pale, freckled arm, still sticky with ale.

“Maybe I should …”

Hadrian shook his head. “Leaving is the right call.”

Kerrigan shot an apologetic look to the bartender, a middle-aged woman. She smiled back kindly as Kerrigan slid a dozen marks on the bar. “For the trouble.”

She waved Kerrigan off. “I saw what happened. Wouldn’t be the first time he needed a good beating.”

Kerrigan laughed tightly at the words and then let her friends pull her out of the crowded bar. The noise had returned to the establishment, and the brute had picked himself off of the ground, but Kerrigan still felt uneasy.

“I didn’t handle that right,” she said with a hand to her temple.

“You handled him just fine,” Clover said.

“You should have let it go,” Darby whispered. Clover glared at her. All of the usual flirtatious looks between them had evaporated in the last week. Kerrigan didn’t know what it meant, but she didn’t like it. Darby held up her hands. “What he did and said was terrible, but she’s a Society member now. That means something. She can’t get involved in bar fights.”

Clover opened her mouth to argue, but Kerrigan stopped her. “She’s right. I’m going to be held to a higher standard.”

“So, you just have to deal with people like him insulting you?” Clover asked.

Kerrigan shrugged. “I don’t know. This has never happened before. There’s never been a half-Fae Society member. Let alone one who earned her spot below the age requirement, who hadn’t officially entered, who didn’t have a tribe, and who was part of the House of Dragons.”

“It is unprecedented,” Hadrian agreed as they set off around the busy Square. A bonfire blazed at the center, and groups danced merrily late into the evening. “But he was wrong for saying something.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Clover said, purposely antagonizing Hadrian, as she always did.

“So, what should we do with the rest of our night?” Kerrigan asked before Hadrian could retaliate.

“Wastes!” Clover cried.

Darby yawned and put a hand to her mouth to cover it. “I think I’m done for the evening. Maybe we should all say good night. Don’t you have to leave in the morning, Kerrigan?”

Kerrigan frowned at the words. She did have to leave in the morning. But she didn’t want to think about it. It was half the reason that she’d allowed her friends to cajole her out into celebrating. Tomorrow, she would be leaving for the House of Shadows with Fordham. And he wasn’t out here tonight with her because things were complicated, to say the least.

“I’m not ready to go back,” Kerrigan said.

“But …” Darby began.

Hadrian put his hand on her arm to silence her. “Whatever you want to do, Ker.”

“Let’s go to the Wastes. No one cares that you’re a half-Fae there,” Clover said.

It was a lie. Someone always cared. But it was the closest thing she had to sanctuary.

“All right,” Kerrigan said. “Sure.”

“I’m going to escort Darby back,” Hadrian said. Such an official way of bowing out of the Wastes. He hated it there.

“Scared, sweetheart?” Clover taunted.

Hadrian leveled her with a gaze. “Some of us have standards.”

“Leave it,” Kerrigan said, in no mood to fight. “We’re still celebrating.”

She hugged Darby and Hadrian, telling them to get home safe, and then headed out of the Square with Clover.

“Must you antagonize him?” she asked as they threaded out of Central and to the Dregs—the primarily human slums in the north and western part of the valley that housed the city of Kinkadia.

“I must,” Clover said with a laugh.

As soon as they crossed the border into the Dregs, Clover pulled a cigarette out and lit up. Clover’s cigarettes were laced with loch—the most addictive drug on the market and the only thing that kept back the debilitating pain from which she suffered. Clover’s hands immediately stopped shaking. She’d gone too long without, but she couldn’t exactly smoke loch in the Square.

They were silent as the streets grew narrower and filthier and darker. More and more people were crammed in less space. Taverns were on every corner, blaring with music and laughter. Everyone worked harder and played harder here. Human life spans were so much shorter than the Fae that it was inevitable.

Kerrigan walked into the opening arms of the Wastes. It was a multilevel pit with a floor for drinking, gambling, w****s, loch dens, and at the very bottom was the Dragon Ring, where she had fought with magic for the last year of her life. It was where she had met Basem Nix, the leader of the Red Masks. He tried to ruin her life after losing to a half-Fae. He slung the same slur in her face as the man in the tavern. The same ignorance made him rise up against her after she won the tournament. They’d fought not two days ago, and now, he was awaiting trial in the Draco Mountain dungeons. And it had all started here.

Kerrigan received the same reception in the Wastes that she had at The Dragon Scales. Except here, the clientele was predominantly human and half-Fae, and she was their real champion.

As she passed through the cheering crowd, she found a frowning Dozan Rook, the king of the Wastes.

“Red,” he said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his black pants. He was in a full suit with a red cravat at his throat. His burnished hair shone in the light, and his all-knowing golden eyes stared back at her. As menacing and handsome as she had ever seen him.

“Your champion has arrived,” she said with her arms wide.

He arched one perfect eyebrow. “I’m surprised you’re out on a victory parade.”

“Why? Don’t I deserve to celebrate?”

His lip quirked at the side as he stepped into her personal space. She fought the urge to step backward. She’d been obsessed with Dozan once. He’d even offered her a place at his side as the queen of the Wastes. She knew he only wanted her for her power, but the connection they’d always shared didn’t go away with the logic.

“You deserve everything that’s coming to you,” he said sensually.

“That sounds ominous.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Still took down a Fae male twice my size.”

“I thought you’d have already run back to your mountain.” His eyes trailed over her face, as if awaiting an answer she didn’t know how to give. “Considering Basem Nix just turned up dead.”