Page 19 of Only in Moonlight (The Moonlit Court #1)

Valen

D rudon smiled like some kind of crocodilian lake monster. “How good to see you again so soon, brother.”

“Son of a bitch,” Emmeline muttered at my side.

We were at the forest’s edge, mingling before the hunt.

Torches with blue flames kept the darkness at bay, and piles of food towered atop tables covered in pristine white cloths.

Guests feasted and drank—because getting plastered on wine was so advisable before roving the forest with bows and arrows.

The atmosphere was rowdy with laughter and cheers, and hunting dogs barked on their leashes. I’d tried to keep my distance from Drudon once I’d spotted him, but he’d cornered us.

“Yes,” I said dryly. “What luck.”

“And you brought your dog.” He leered at Emmeline. “Do you think she’ll be able to sniff out the Cynthian stag?”

My wineglass shattered in my grip, but I barely felt the shards cutting into my hand. Emmeline gasped, but I couldn’t look at her. How dare he. That wretched jackass wasn’t worthy to speak her name, much less insult her. I should have killed him in the gardens, and damn the consequences. I—

Drudon wanted me to punch him again. It was the only explanation. He had a trap planned, probably some kind of public shaming given the surrounding crowd. I would play right into his hands if I gave him the beating he sorely deserved.

“I doubt I’ll sniff out anything with you stinking up the place,” Emmeline said with a sweet smile.

My raging heartbeat eased as I gazed at her. She could spit poison better than a cobra, and no one deserved her acid insults more than my brother.

Drudon’s face contorted with rage—the thin-skinned bully always could dish it out better than he could take it. I set my broken glass on a nearby table, the movement drawing his attention back to me. Perfect. I wanted his temper focused on me rather than Emmeline.

“Yes, are you sure it’s wise to join the hunt, Brother?” I drawled. “I’d hate for someone to mistake you for a wild pig and spear you.”

Interesting. I hadn’t realized his face could turn that shade of red. I hoped we’d gathered onlookers, as Drudon looked ready to attack me, and I wanted witnesses to swear he’d thrown the first punch.

“Druuudon,” a man whined. “Where have you been? Lord Sidonius kept blathering on about politics. I needed you to rescue me.”

Aristoph Undarvue staggered drunkenly into the conversation, oblivious that he’d prevented a brawl. I suppose I should thank him. A public fight with Drudon would attract attention I didn’t need.

“I apologize,” Drudon said stiffly. “I was catching up with my brother.”

“Sir Valen!” Aristoph’s glossy-looking eyes finally landed on me, and he lifted his wineglass in greeting. “Hail and well met! I heard you punched Drudon in the face for insulting your new lady-love. Oh! Is this the new lady-love?”

The young man gave Emmeline a smile that might have been charming had he not been sweaty-faced, reeking of wine, and obviously about to tip over onto the grass.

I introduced them, and Emmeline curtsied as if she’d been born to it.

“I don’t know what your problem is, Drudon,” Aristoph said. “We don’t want the city overrun with dirty humans, but obviously there are exceptions. I mean—look at her!”

He gestured at Emmeline’s face and bust.

I changed my mind about the brawl. Could I goad Drudon into starting it? Perhaps punch Aristoph by accident during the melee?

Emmeline gave him a tight smile. “You’re too kind.”

“I am!” Aristoph raised his glass again, and wine sloshed onto his shirt. “Don’t worry. I’m extremely friendly to humans. You won’t have anything to worry about when I’m king. Earth will prosper under my rule.”

“Earth?” Emmeline asked.

“King?” I demanded.

The word had shot out of my mouth before I could stop it. What was that upstart little shit-for-brains implying?

“Of course!” Aristoph leaned in like he was revealing a major secret. “I’m going to marry Lurena Ithelion, you know.”

Of course I knew. Everyone knew. It was the talk of the Court.

“She’s not in the direct line of succession,” I said. “The crown prince—”

”—is still moping over that dead woman who helped him defeat the Netherworld.

“ Aristoph flapped a hand in my face like he could knock my words from the air.

“And the queen is too much of a romantic to force him into an arranged marriage. You mark my words—” He hiccupped.

“The crown will come to me when he croaks. Or one of my children if he outlives me.”

Drudon’s face had paled, and he tugged on Aristoph’s arm. “Come on. You need a refill.”

Aristoph shook him off, not done imparting his wisdom yet. “And we’ll be conquering Earth. Oh, the queen’s against it, but Princess Regula is much more sensible. Just you wait.” He waved his arms grandly, spilling the rest of his wine. “It’s going to be amazing.”

“Aristoph,” Drudon growled.

Aristoph lifted his empty glass to his mouth and then blinked at it. “Drudon, I’m out of wine.”

“Yes.” Drudon pulled him away without resistance. “Let’s go get more.”

I glared at their retreating backs as they wove through the crowd. So House Undarvue thought they could seize the throne with Aristoph’s marriage. They were even more ambitious than I’d thought. Had that been part of their discussions with Regula when negotiating her daughter’s hand in marriage?

It didn’t seem like one of Regula’s schemes, though. The princess wanted the throne for herself. She wouldn’t be satisfied with waiting for it to pass to her descendants. She’d kill her daughter herself if it would help her overthrow Queen Verena.

Emmeline took my hand, shaking me out of my dark thoughts. She dabbed a cloth handkerchief to the cuts my shattered wineglass had inflicted.

“It looks worse than it is,” I assured her, as red blood stained the white cloth.

She gently turned my hand over to examine the injury. Her touch felt impossibly soft, and I admired her long, nimble fingers—ideal for pick-pocketing. With her thumb and forefinger, she gripped a shard still embedded in my skin and deftly removed it.

A worried frown tugged at her face. “You need soap and water. It doesn’t look like much, but I’ve seen cuts like this get infected before.”

Her concern made warmth blossom in my chest. I wasn’t sure she gave a damn about me. Sometimes she seemed to care, but on other days I thought she’d love to attack me with a broken wineglass herself.

“I’ll take care of it at home.” I didn’t pull my hand from hers, savoring the contact for a little longer. “Let a healing crystal sit in water for a few hours, and that’ll wash away any infection.”

She carefully tied the cloth around my hand as a makeshift bandage. Before she could pull her hand away, I brought it to my lips and placed a soft kiss atop it.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Her gaze lingered on my lips, and she swallowed. Then she made a scoffing sound and looked away.

“I didn’t spend three weeks practicing curtsies just for you to die from an infected cut.”

“Yes, I’d hate to inconvenience you.”

Her scowl turned to a smile as she looked back at me. “Liar. You love to inconvenience me.”

I grinned.

“Sir Valen!” called the master of the hunt as he approached us.

Cursing the interruption, I greeted him and smoothly introduced Emmeline.

We mingled with various guests for the next half hour, and I kept at least twenty feet between us and Drudon.

Other than my brother’s vile presence, everything went exactly as planned.

Most everyone had already heard of my relationship with Emmeline (thank you, Amatien and Ishaq) and acted delighted to meet her.

They wouldn’t think anything of my escorting her to the ball, which was exactly what I wanted.

“And you really ran off together in the night?” Felina asked despondently.

We were chatting with her and Florina, neither of whom could quite hide their disappointment that another woman had snagged me.

“I didn’t want to face her father’s wrath,” I said. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

Horns sounded, drowning out Florina’s sigh. The crowd let out a cheer, and everyone jostled each other as they headed toward the trees. I put a hand on Emmeline’s arm to keep us from getting separated.

The hunt had begun.