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When she took a bite, it was hard not to moan at the taste. It was perfect—buttery and soft, with just the right amount of crisp to the dough. Alastair chuckled, behind her, as though he could tell how much she enjoyed it, and he trailed his fingers down her arms and leaned close enough to bury his face against her neck.
“So,” he whispered, lips brushing against her hair, fingers giving her goosebumps where they delicately brushed against her. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, now?”
Fey stilled, swallowing a mouthful of waffles.
“It’s… complicated,” she said. She poked at a strawberry with her fork, chasing it across her plate.
He made a small noise behind her, his fingers never pausing as they trailed lightly over her skin. “I can do complicated. Try me.”
Fey sighed. She set her fork down.
“Something… something is going on,” she started, trying to think how to explain it all to him. “With the Crown.”
“Hm, very vague and unhelpful, thank you, Witchling.”
Fey couldn’t help it. She smiled.
“I can’t tell you everything,” she explained. “I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone. That makes it a little more difficult.”
“Okay, why don’t you start with just one thing?” he asked. He shifted back slightly, granting her a little more space, a little more room to breathe. Still, with his hands on her shoulders, his body looming over hers, she couldn’t help but feel comforted by his presence. Protected by him.
Fey sighed. “Okay,” she said. “You said I feel stronger to you, right?”
He nodded.
“I am,” Fey told him. “Much, much stronger.”
With no effort at all, she held her hand above the table and called Fire, letting it dance across her fingertips. Then Water, pulling it from the glass next to her plate, and bringing it to dance among the flames. Salt next, calling Earth to join the dance. And finally, a ball of Air, sounding them all, pulling them all together like a globe of energy.
Behind her, Alastair hissed through clenched teeth.
“You can control all four elements?” he asked, awe in his voice.
Fey nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She let her power slip, vanishing the fire and air and letting the water return to her glass, sprinkling the salt into a pile on her plate.
“The Crown took this away from me,” she explained, flicking a few errant salt crystals from her fingertips. “They’ve been… hobbling us. Reducing our powers, so the Queen can stay on the throne, unchallenged. My sister, Alice, found out, and now she needs my help.”
“Your murdered sister?” Alastair asked, surprise and disbelief in his voice.
“Well… yes,” Fey admitted. “But she’s not as dead as we thought, it turns out… and she needs your help. We need your help.”
Fey remembered the last time she’d come to him for help. Two minutes, he’d promised her. And even then, he’d only helped her to keep his own club clean.
Would he extend that same level of help again?
“Anything,” Alastair said, leaning forward to plant a kiss on her hair. “Whatever you need, Fey.”
“I need you to get a message to your father,” she told him.
Alastair froze, his lips still pressed against her.
“Anything but that,” he said, moving away, but when Fey twisted in her seat to look at him, he sighed, irritated. “Fine, don’t give me that look, fuck… What’s the message you need me to give him?”
“Tomorrow night, we need every Vampire off the streets. This is important, Alastair. Something big is going down, and we need everyone to keep their heads down and keep away from the palace. Keep away from everywhere but their own homes if they can. We can’t guarantee the streets will be safe, not for anyone.”
Alastair shifted uncomfortably behind her. “The other Factions…”
“The other Factions have already agreed to this. We need a truce for one night. To keep everyone safe.”
