Page 13

“Vermillion. Vermillion Pringle, Your Highness. Most people just call me Mills.” Mills ran his fingers through his salmon-colored fringe, pushing it out of his eyes. He reached under the counter where he grabbed two stout tumblers.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mills,” I said as I pushed myself off the bartop, straightening my posture. “I’m sure these drinks will be extra potent, yeah?”

Mills paused his search through the stacked crates of human-made moonshine. The names of various flavors labeled the Mason jars we traded as goods. “Didn’t you say two apple pies?”

“Aw. He’s cute, smart, and he listens. Can I keep him, Gray?” Scarlett squinted her eyes, cocking her head to the side as she made a show of appraising him, clearly envisioning him on top of her.

I chuckled at the pink tint painting Mills’s ears. “Scarlett,” I said, shoving an elbow into her ribs. “Leave the man alone. He’s got enough going against him as it is.”

Scarlett huffed out a dramatic sigh, disappointed in my response, but leaned into me and said, “I can just stick him in my pocket. Nobody will know. I swear.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “Gods above, Scar. Control your ovaries, would you?”

“Fine,” she whined. “They’re contained,” she said, resigned before sighing again as she checked out the tight-fitting, black slacks that hugged his ass.

Scarlett and I waited for Mills as he retrieved our drinks. After my failure with Griffin and the impending punishment from my father, I craved just one night of fun. One night, when regret or anxiety didn’t bombard me. The alcohol couldn’t come fast enough.

A strong energy joined us from behind. Before I could turn to investigate, Scarlett lunged for the male, throwing her arms around his neck. I leaned my back against the bar to avoid being shoved off-balance by her. A flash of hair the color of fresh snow garnered my attention.

“Cotton!” Scarlett buried her face into the side of his neck as she assaulted him with friendly affection.

With a rare smile, Cotton Sjodin embraced Scarlett in a warm hug. He stepped back to examine her at arm’s length. Olive irises darted over her face and then her body, searching Scarlett for…something. I wasn’t sure. When he appeared satisfied, he met her sea-green eyes and arched a questioning white eyebrow.

Scarlett nodded, her blood-red curls bouncing with the movement. “Yeah, I’m good, Cotton. Just happy to see my oldest friend.”

With a tilted grin, Cotton mussed the top of her hair, earning him a punch to the gut. “Cotton! Do you have any fucking idea how long ittook to get my hair like this?” Scarlett growled as she fixed her tresses with a tender touch. Cotton stood in silent amusement, content with the reaction he sought from the spitfire.

“Two apple pies for the princess and—her friend,” Mills interrupted from behind.

I spun on my heels to meet the nervous bartender and said, “Careful with her, Mills. She’s cute at first, but she can be a bit stabby if poked in the wrong places.”

I snagged the tumbler closest to me, gulping down the moonshine’s liquid fire. It seemed Mills followed through and provided me with an extra potent drink. I winced as it scorched my throat but welcomed the warmth it brought my body as it settled in my stomach. A sense of calmness began to ease through me, and I sighed from the relief.

Mills bore an appalled expression at my statement. I shrugged and turned back to join Scarlett and Cotton.

Cotton was mute. No one knew why or how he’d lost his ability to speak, and I never knew him well enough to ask. I wasn’t social, so we never developed much of a friendship. We were both close with Scarlett, and that was where our bond ended.

Most people were unnerved by Cotton. Being mute heightened his observational skills, which made people feel seen on a deeper level that made them uncomfortable. It’s one of the reasons he was the Royal Domain’s Inquisitor. But coupled with his ability to see how body heat changed according to emotions during questioning, it essentially made him a living lie detector. No doubt he knew people’s secrets just from observing them.

As if noticing my presence for the first time since his arrival, he wrapped his right arm across his midsection and folded himself at the waist in a respectful bow. I offered him a grateful smile and a small wave. “Hey, Cotton.”

I tuned out Scarlett while she gushed about her training room escapades with Golden Figgaro. Cotton’s pinched expression said he shared in my disgust on the matter. Fuck Golden. He was such a pious prick so far upmy father’s ass that if he wasn’t careful, he’d serve as an enema. I wished Scarlett would choose literally anyone else to get dirty with.

I tossed back large swigs from my drink, my attention drifting towards the revel.It grew more raucous and salacious with each passing moment. Couples and small groups removed themselves from the dancefloor, huddling in corners or at tables lining the opposite wall while devouring one another. They fed off each other’s energy to fuel their own, heightening their drunken and erotic euphoria.

I scanned the ballroom, finding Hazel still held hostage at Amethyst’s side. Remembering the look she’d given me, I wondered what she knew. I needed to separate her from Amethyst and find out.

I drained my drink before I realized it and turned around to request another from Mills. If I hoped to make the statement I intended for tonight, I needed much more liquid courage.

“Hey, Mills!” I called to his back.

He granted me his attention, so I raised the empty tumbler in the air and shook it so the ice clinked against the glass.

Mills nodded, his pink fringe straying into his eye, and returned to the crates stacked against the marble wall behind the bar.

As I waited, my thoughts trailed off and replayed my epic failure involving Griffin, trying to make sense of it all. It was clear there were a few loose screws in his head, judging by his unstable behavior. None of our interactions was supposed to have happened. He should be dead.

It unsettled me that I couldn’t figure out why he felt familiar, too. There was no way we’d ever met before. I wouldn’t forget a man like that. Those molten silver eyes peered at me in my mind, reminding me of my weakness. But the most plaguing question of last night was my body’s reaction to my dagger. It shouldn’t have affected me. And how the fuck had I suddenly healed, seeing as I had been in death’s embrace on the train?