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When we reach the garden, I plant my feet, take a deep breath, and raise my arm. “Effie, come.” I punctuate this with a whistle, and it feels like Verity holds her breath with me as we wait.

Although it takes a heartbeat longer than I like, my stomach drops in relief when she swoops down, her black wings slicing through the twilight.

Her talons curl around my wrist when she lands. “Sunshine,” she coos. “Pretty sunshine bird.”

Verity laughs, giving her head a little pet. “It’s dark, pretty bird.”

Satisfied, I release her back into the solarium and resolve to take a nice, long, hot shower with my Princess. I haven’t had this much outdoorsing in a day since the time we went to hockey camp up north.

When we get back up to the house, both Lex and Wicker are in the kitchen preparing dinner, the latter glaring at his phone as he reads out instructions. “It says not to crowd the pan. You’re clearly crowding the pan.”

“You’re crowding my last nerve,” Lex gripes back, noticing us enter. “Hey, was that Effie I saw out the window earlier?”

“Yeah,” I answer, ignoring their stunned stares.

“We took her flying.” Verity lumbers up onto a stool, all grins. “You should have seen her! I think she was even catching bugs.”

It’s not the scent of grilled chicken or mashed potatoes that catches my attention. It’s the black envelope sitting in the middle of the counter.

“What’s that?” I interrupt, eyeing it skeptically.

“Came this afternoon,” Lex says, drying his hands. “The Barons’ seal is on the back. We waited until you got back to open it.”

Verity picks up the envelope, studies the seal, and then runs her finger underneath it. She pulls out a sheet of black cardstock with silver ink across the front.

“Don’t tell me it’s another gift,” Wicker mutters. “I don’t know how Danner used to do it, but I’ve been trying to get the bloodstains out of my Versace for weeks. I’m on a murder fast.”

“Not a gift. An invitation.” She looks up, pulling a face. “To the black wedding. On Halloween, just like Sy said.”

“Jesus, any chance we can get out of that?” I ask, looking between my brothers hopefully. “Pregnancy card? She’ll be about ready to burst by then, right?”

Verity groans. “God help us all if the baby isn’t here by the thirty-first.” She rubs her belly. “By then, you’d have to roll me down the aisle.”

Wicker decides, “Well, I don’t care what Payne and Perilini say. I’m not going to some arranged wedding between an emo-gothy chick and one of the new Barons. Maybe it’s going against my creepy pedigree, but those masks freak me the fuck out.”

Verity inspects the invitation again, her jaw suddenly dropping. “Oh. My. God.” She slides down off the stool, barely noticing when I lurch forward to catch and steady her. “Oh my god!”

“What?” Lex rushes over, hand clamping over hers, face paled. “Is it happening?”

“It’s not the baby. It’s this.” She thrusts the invitation in his face, and his expression goes slack.

“Holy shit.”

“For god’s sake,” Wick bitches, snatching the invitation out of Lex’s hand. He begins reading aloud,“You are cordially invited to bear witness to the eternal union of Baroness Arianette Gowen Hexley to The King of Barons on the evening of October thirty-first, at the House of Night.”

I grab the card to read it myself, but sure enough, in silver and red, the invitation is clear.

It’s not just any Baron getting married. It’s their King, and his new wife is twenty-five years younger.

“I guess Killian was right,” Verity says, glancing between us. “Attending this wedding is a Royal obligation we can’t refuse.”

22

Verity

“You sure youwant all of this down?” Dylan, the kid who asks, is at the top of the ladder. Below him, giving support, is Chris. When I told Pace I needed help in the solarium, he sent me two kids who just went through rush and pledged PNZ. I guess grunt work goes to the newbies. They’re both babies—in Prince terms—barely out of high school and thrust into a world they think is all frat parties, hook-ups, and future connections.

Instead, they’re doing my gardening work.