Page 8 of Reveal Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve #2)

Niamh

I t looked like a fairy tale. Even though I was a fairy, I didn’t take to stories about damsels going into opulent castles.

It never worked out in the beginning. Or in the end, where some prince would kiss them while they were asleep.

Or let every girl in the kingdom put their nasty feet in her shoe.

The palace grounds looked like it was pulled directly out of a kid’s fairy book.

Tall, imposing walls of marble rose up, gleaming under the sun, their surfaces etched with ancient symbols.

The hum of magic was in the air, crackling on the breeze.

In the courtyard, the sounds of footsteps, laughter, and conversations merged with the occasional growl or roar.

Even though they were in their human form, I spotted them easily: shifters, most of them panthers, their sleek forms moving with confidence, their eyes glimmering with predatory focus.

There were others, too—leopards and tigers, all of them exuding strength, beauty, and dominance.

I even caught a whiff of a few fairies, their magic lingering on the wind, and a couple of witches, their aura faint but noticeable.

A few humans dotted the scene here and there.

The sun was so bright here, hotter and more intense than the one I was used to. No vampires roamed this land; it would burn them alive. The sunlit air felt heavy with power, as if the very ground beneath my feet hummed with energy.

I stepped inside the palace, the transition from the bright outdoors to the cool, dimmer interior like a shift in atmosphere.

The sheer opulence of the place took my breath away.

The marble floors gleamed beneath my feet, polished to a high shine, reflecting the light from towering chandeliers that hung like crystal jewels from the ceilings.

Rich tapestries adorned the walls, depicting battles, victories, and mythic figures that almost seemed alive in their intricate detail.

Doing a small twirl, I tilted my head back, feeling like Elizabeth Bennett wandering through Pemberley for the first time. Except I hadn’t rejected Mr. Darcy. Yet.

I was going to reject King Dion. Probably.

There was a quiet tug of war between my desire for wealth and comfort and the knowledge that I didn’t want the entrapment that came with the bond. This palace was everything a princess deserved. But I’d read my share of grim fairy tales, and I knew that it would come at a cost.

King Dion’s kingdom was magnificent, filled with everything a fairy like me could ever want.

It was everything that had been stripped from me at birth.

It was the bitter stories my mother would tell of her life back in the fae realm.

I’d been raised to believe I belonged in a place like this, even though no one knew my true identity.

No one knew that my parents, both dark fae with the power to control poison, had each been driven out of their realm because their magic was too dangerous for a world that shone too brightly.

It made me a misfit, just like them. The Crossroads had been my haven, the one place where I could be myself, in all my flawed, poisonous glory.

I noticed the view outside the window. The lush gardens, the distant horizon, the dark expanse of the Forbidden Forest. Something about that wild, untamed place drew me. It called to me, as if it were a part of me I couldn’t ignore.

But even the thought of that forest, so fitting for me, didn’t seem like a reason to give in to the king’s advances.

It was a dangerous thing to desire a man who would never respect my heart.

But if I could have a place like this, if I could rest my head on pillows as soft as clouds, maybe. .. maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe.

“Niamh!”

Stella encircled me in her arms. I face-planted into her ample chest. Stella was all curves, and being here on Panthera was doing her curves justice.

She brought me to a sitting room that reminded me of her apartment back home.

Stella had a love of recliners and had had a few made for her comfort.

We sat with our feet up and drinks in hand.

“Spill, girlfriend. Tell me everything that’s been going on in the Crossroads.”

“Tori’s still stuck on Tartarus with her hottie. I’m not sure when she’ll be back—if she’ll be back. Kendall and I were supposed to meet at the All Hallow’s Ball, but I... well, got sucked into a portal instead.”

Stella leaned forward, a sharp look in her eyes. “Why do you think Vaelora did that? Send you through the portal?”

I’d wondered the same thing, especially since Vaelora was known to be a matchmaker, someone who sought out fated pairs. She must have known that my fated mate was here on Panthera. But I wasn’t ready to tell Stella that.

“Maybe she sensed how much I missed you.”

“Or maybe she thinks your fated mate is here on Panthera. That would be amazing! Then we could both stay here.”

“You know I have commitment issues.”

“You’ve been with me for years.”

“Because of what you do to my split ends.”

“You do need a touch-up.”

I laughed, but I gave Stella my back so she could tend to my hair. The familiarity of Stella’s magic washed over me. I didn’t bother to ask her what she was doing. The girl was pure magic when it came to a makeover.

“Tell me about Oz. When do I get to meet him in the flesh?”

Stella did just that. She told me all about the man she was in love with. I listened, oohing and ahhing at the appropriate places in the love story. But she didn’t have my full attention.

My eyes were fixed on a portrait on the wall.

The man in the painting was striking. Tall, with dark eyes that pierced right through me like he could see me beyond the paint.

His features were sharp and feline. His hair was golden, flowing in a way that reminded me of something wild, untamed.

He looked like a man who could command armies, and yet there was something haunting about him, something familiar in the intensity of his gaze.

He looked like the guard who had escorted me out of the forest. The one who had turned down my offer of a quick fuck in the forest.

“Who is that?”

Stella’s eyes followed mine to the painting. “That’s my cousin. King Dion.”

I stared at the portrait, my pulse quickening. It couldn’t be. Could it?

No, it definitely looked like the guard. But he hadn’t said he was a guard. He said he worked for the king.

Of course he would say that. It’s what a fuck boy looking to fuck would say. Except he hadn’t fucked me. He’d turned down my offer.

Why? What kind of game was he playing?

And then I remembered what I’d said. I’d told him who I was. I’d told him what I planned to do when I met the king.

He’d rejected me the moment he knew who I was. Not only that—he’d accused me of being the female equivalent of a fuck boy. But that was only because I thought he was someone else. I bet if he hadn’t known who I was, he would’ve taken me up on my offer.

An idea struck. A stroke of genius that would prove who had the most fuckery going on in this ill-fated match.

“Stella, can you make a few more changes?”