In Plain Sight

1. Feline at Best

When no one was looking, you magicked some of your wine away. Because tonight wasn't about you — tonight was about Keir, that wretched male from the Court of Nightmares.

And it was about getting him as loose-lipped as possible.

From where you stood behind Eris and his entourage, including his two brothers, you were practically invisible. But your High Lord wasn't excluding you on purpose.

No, as his spymaster, it was your job to be unimportant and unseen. And as an "unattractive" female faerie, it was your forte.

Of course, being a faerie meant you weren't entirely hopeless. You still glowed in comparison to mortals, and on good days, you came across as what you hoped was beautiful. But in all your two centuries of being alive, not a single faerie had tried to look past your weight — until Eris Vanserra.

When you'd first met him, the odds hadn't been in your favor.

His father, Beron, had hunted you down, paid you generously to kill his son. But because you'd heard good things about Eris, you'd spared him and then, instead, killed Beron.

You'd let Eris take responsibility for the death of his father so long as you could work for him, and then the rest was history. Contrary to popular belief, the current High Lord of Autumn was a great conversationalist and a gentleman — and to you, personally, a close friend.

"(Y/n)."

You blinked, looking up. Eris had moved to the back of the group to speak with you.

"Oh, sorry," you said, tracing the rim of your glass. "I was just thinking. And waiting for our next move."

When your High Lord's face relaxed, the amber of his eyes reminded you of cozy fires.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said, waving a hand. His golden rings glimmered under the cool, purple light. You'd always thought Eris was handsome, but here, in the Court of Nightmares, the lighting didn't do him justice. "How're you holding up?"

You raised a brow, surprised by his question.

Eris's mouth curled into a tired smirk. "What?"

"It's not like you to be considerate in public."

Your High Lord scoffed, glancing around. "No one's watching us, (Y/n)."

You grinned before confiscating his wine. "You're not supposed to be the loose-lipped one tonight, my High Lord."

You were about to say something else when the back of your neck tingled.

Unlike other faeries, you had unusually heightened senses, so you knew when you were being watched. And right now, you had someone's undivided attention.

Without missing a beat, you bowed to Eris.

You raised your voice when you said, "Yes, High Lord. I'll get you more wine."

You walked off without sparing Eris another glance. Even though you desperately wanted to know who was watching you, you didn't turn around. It would've made you too suspicious.

So instead, you made a beeline for the refreshments. You wove through the crowd, making sure not to touch anyone.

The music was reaching a dramatic crescendo, so when you glanced up, you weren't surprised by the massive crowd that swept across the black granite floor. The fey moved as one unit, each movement precise. You sighed as you watched them. The way they danced was cold, but . . . it was beautiful and elegant in its own way.

It reminded you of that one story Eris's brothers told when they were in a teasing mood — the one where he'd danced with Nesta Archeron in this very room.