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There was a flicker of surprised pride in Lach’s eyes, and he nodded once before looking at Sirius. “Thank you.”
“What now?” Ciara dared to ask.
Lach squeezed my hand before smiling at her. “Ready to break your handfasting?”
Chapter Thirty-Five
It was noon before we successfully summoned the other fae royals to meet with us. Both of the light courts were already preparing to leave following the successful handfasting. Only Bain and his retinue had intended to stay past this evening. After we were through with him, he would probably be the first to go—and likely by force. There had also been extensive debate regarding whether to host the meeting at the Avalon or in the Otherworld, whether or not weapons should be allowed, and if attendees should be limited to heads of court.
In the end, practicality had won out. Since Sirius needed to back up our claim that the Infernal Court had tampered with our clover supply, we’d extended the invite to every royal family member. That had necessitated somewhere larger to gather than Lach’s office. We’d opted for a conference room in the Avalon, since Lach was unlikely to allow Bain to ever step foot into his home court again. I’d lost on the issue of guns, which was why there were twin 9-millimeters holstered under Lach’s Armani suit jacket, but the jade-green Birkin bag he’d presented to carry mine was sitting on the nightstand in my bedroom.
Since I had never attended an official business meeting between courts, Ciara had helped choose my outfit. I had foregone the usual ball gown in favor of a close-fitting, high-neck blouse that might have been modest were it not entirely tailored from forest-green lace. I had paired it with a black pencil skirt that hugged my hips before narrowing to my knees, a pair of sheer black stockings, and Gucci pumps with gold heels so tall and pointed they could double as daggers if I regretted leaving the gun behind. She had glamoured my makeup and hair to save time, taming this morning’s frizzy mess into lush waves before darkening my lashes and shading my lips scarlet.
Ciara had inverted her handfasting look, opting for a tight black jumpsuit that left nothing to the imagination. She’d magicked sharp cat eyes and bloodred lipstick. If anyone doubted where she stood on ending the trial marriage, one look at her would suffice.
Each court took a side of the square conference table, royals and penumbras sitting with their attending guards behind them at a close distance. We waited for the others to sit before Lach and his retinue took the side stationed in front of the entrance. A reminder that he controlled who came and went in this court and this city as well as a quick exit if things went south. The Nether Court royals sat, Roark speaking quietly with the men he’d positioned at the conference-room door. I stayed back, nervously fingering the phone in my skirt pocket.
“I thought we were done with meetings,” Titania complained as soon as Lach had settled into his chair.
Lach ignored her, opting instead to hold up a hand. He nodded to Roark’s empty spot beside him. “We will begin in a moment, when everyone is ready.”
Roark moved to my side, sweeping the room one final time to assess any potential threats, but he didn’t continue to the table.
“I think they’re waiting for you,” I muttered.
Roark flashed me a wicked grin as Lach’s voice rose over the hushed conversations starting around the conference table. “Cate?”
I blinked as Lach extended a tattooed hand to the seat at his side. He couldn’t possibly expect me to join him, to assume the chair meant for his penumbra. The message it sent would be complicated. Worse than complicated. I glanced at the table, looking for another seat as if it was a mistake.
I was still processing Lach’s request when Roark touched my elbow. “Go on. He’s making a statement.”
A statement I wished he had cleared with me, especially since his penumbra appeared to be in on it. I lifted my head, aware that every eye in the room was watching me, but I strode forward to join him. A few members of other courts shared glances as I took the empty seat, their faces a telling mixture of curiosity, amusement, and, in Titania’s case, disdain.
As if to answer the unspoken question hanging in the air, Lach reached over and placed a hand on my knee. A few brows raised, but the statement was now clear to everyone, including me. He slid a quick glance at me, as if assessing how much trouble he’d find himself in over his show of affection. There was a time when I might have cared what the others thought or what they would assume. But right now, there was only one message I wanted to deliver, so I edged closer to Lach and planted my palm high on his strong, muscled thigh. My place might be at his side, but I wasn’t his pawn any more than he was mine. The corner of his mouth twitched, his head inclining ever so slightly.
Message received.
“Exactly why are we here?” Aurora asked, folding her hands on the table. “While we appreciate your hospitality, I confess I’m eager to return home and see to the business of my own court.”
Lach leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand, the other still marking his newly claimed territory. “I will be brief, as I think we’re all through wasting time with this business.”
The others shared concerned looks, but Bain chuckled uneasily. “Is the honeymoon already over?”
Thankfully, the honeymoon hadn’t even gotten started. Ciara had shown the good sense to insist on separate bedrooms until the final details were concluded, telling Bain she wanted to wait until they returned to the Infernal Court.
The flicker of Lach’s eyes—lethal and cold—toward Bain might have been answer enough, but he cleared his throat. “We received disturbing information this morning that forces me to reevaluate my sister’s marriage to Bain.”
“What the hell?” Bain jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process. The other royals began whispering among themselves as he planted his hands on the table. “On what grounds?”
I couldn’t decide if he was overplaying his innocence or genuinely surprised.
“Manipulation, deceit.” Lach spoke so calmly that I knew he was in danger of detonating. I squeezed his thigh gently, a reminder that putting an end to this was the first step in setting things right. “You negotiated a trade agreement—a marriage—to replace a product that you were tampering with.”
Oberon shifted forward, eyes narrowing. “That is a serious allegation.”
“And a fucking lie,” Bain added. “I have absolutely no clue what the hell you think is going on, but your sister is mine by law and custom for the next year.”
Ciara stood, glaring at him. “I don’t belong to anyone.”