Page 42 of Vicious Kings
"And what," I ask, proud of how steady my voice sounds, "do I have to do to gain suchmagnanimousfavor?"
That bitter laugh again. She looks at me like I'm simultaneously the smartest and stupidest person she's ever met.
"Only one thing." She leans in, close enough that I can smell her perfume. Unlike Baby Blue Ruffles' chemical warfare approach, Isabella smells like winter. It's crisp, clean, with anunderlying metallic note. Like blood. Fitting, somehow. "Stay away from the Golden Triad."
I blink, not expecting that request. "The hell is that? Some kind of weird Fae boy band?"
Her perfect composure cracks for a second. "You really are a little pumpkin they plucked out of the forest, aren't you?"
"I prefer 'rabid woodland badger,' but sure."
"The Triad," she says, enunciating each word like she's talking to a moron, "is only the most powerful bonded pack on campus. Tallon Fairfax, Professor Locke Drakiss, and Prince Corvinus himself."
My blood turns to ice water in my veins, but I keep my expression neutral through sheer force of will. Prince Corvinus. In a pack. Which means he's not just protected by guards and magic and whatever else. He's got a fucking soul bond with two other supernaturals.
Killing him just became approximately a thousand times more complicated.
But on the flip side, from what I know about pack bonds, if I kill any one of them, it's the same as killing him. Technically, my chances were just multiplied by three.
"Let me guess," I say, partially recovered, "you've got your sights set on them."
"I come from a prestige bloodline." She says it like that should mean something profound instead of just confirming what I already suspected, that she's one of those omegas from families that literally breed their daughters to be supernatural fuck toys. "The Golden Triadwillchoose me. It's not a matter of if, but when."
Of course. Of fucking course. I've been here less than forty-eight hours and I've already made an enemy of the most powerful omega on campus, and she's got her perfectlymanicured claws set on the exact person I need to kill. Because why would anything in my life be simple?
I need access to Prince Corvinus, but I also need to not have every omega on campus making my life a living hell while I figure out how to get past a soul-bonded pack to commit regicide. "Relax, princess. I have no interest in your Prince Charming. All I want is to get through this semester in one piece. Maybe snag a bachelor Fae who can give me a comfortable life as far away from this hell as possible in the process. Preferably one with agoraphobia so I have to deal with as few of their kind as possible."
She studies me for a long moment, those dark eyes searching for any hint of deception. I meet her gaze steadily, channeling every ounce of 'harmless country bumpkin' I can muster. Her gaze drifts down over my outfit and she sniffs, confirming I look the part.
"Then we won't have any problems," she says finally, and her smile is sweet as arsenic.
She turns and glides away, her black dress making her look like an extremely elegant shadow against all the pastel and jewel tones of the garden. She doesn't look back, doesn't hurry, just moves with that same grace that makes everyone else look like they're stumbling through life.
I wait until she's completely out of sight before I let out slew of my most unladylike curses I've been holding in since I got here. My hand goes automatically to my pocket, fingers closing around the packet of suppressants like they're a lifeline. Which, given what I just learned, they might be.
Prince Corvinus is in a pack. Abondedpack. With a professor and some asshole named Tallon Fairfax.
I need information. I need to know everything about how pack bonds work, what their weaknesses are, if I really can drop Corvinus by killing another member of his triad. And if not, Ineed to know how to separate them. I also need to find out who Tallon Fairfax is and why a professor would bond with a student. And somehow, I need to do all of this while dodging Isabella's attention and whatever army of pastel-wearing psychopaths she commands.
No pressure.
Fourteen
BILLIE
The History of Fae-Human Relations turns out to be exactly the propaganda fest I expected.
Professor Ivenfaire, a Fae with purple hair and the kind of smile that makes you want to count your teeth afterward, spends ninety minutes explaining how the Fae "rescued" humanity from our own barbarism.
Apparently, we were just banging rocks together until they showed up with their magic.
I take notes like a good little omega, but anyone who takes a glance at my notebook might get the unfortunate impression that I'm being sarcastic, and that would be justterrible.
Fae = saviors.
Humans = grateful.
The brunette from the stairs (I've affectionately named her BBR, AKA Baby Blue Ruffles) happens to be seated in the next row, and keeps shooting me looks from across the room. Probably planning her next attempt to make me eat shit on campus architecture.
