Wolfgang’s eyes narrow, studying Veil. “Why, and from where?”
“I’m not quite sure,” she says with a sheepish shrug. “And I was born in Corutio. I never left the city before I was … called here.”
“Called?” Mercy repeats.
Veil sneaks a glance my way before answering, “It’s the only way I can explain the feeling.”
“The Oracle says it’s due to the new epoch.” I wave two fingers between Mercy and Wolfgang. “Itseemsthis new epoch is full of surprises.”
“Like a reset?” Aleksandr muses.
“Maybe,” I respond as I lean toward Veil, draping my arm over the back of her chair. “The Oracle was quite vague about it all.”
Mercy tracks my movements, staying quiet for a beat before addressing Veil directly, “Why do you look familiar?”
I puff out a small laugh, and Veil flashes me a warning look, which only makes me laugh even harder. She ignores me and turns back to Mercy and Wolfgang.
“I was his sacrifice at the Feast of Fools.” Veil quickly clears her throat before adding, “He let me go.”
This time, everyone’s reaction is stunned silence.
“You never killed your sacrifice?” Constantine says, bewildered, and I think she’s more offended by the lack of spilled blood than me keeping this from her.
“Lucky I didn’t, is it not?” I respond flippantly.
“How could this be?” Mercy mutters under her breath just as Wolfgang says, “We need to make this official.”
I roll my eyes. “How? With another one of your puff pieces?”
“Stop acting like an ingrate little troll and take this seriously,” Mercy snaps. “She will need an official public appearance whether you like it or not.”
“Whatever it takes,” Veil says beside me, and pride blooms in my chest.
“Her family sigil,” Wolfgang says.
Mercy finishes his thought. “She’ll need it tattooed.” Then she looks at Veil up and down, seemingly cataloging her tattoos. “Is your back bare?”
Veil nods. “It is.”
“Interesting,” Mercy says under her breath, and then she changes the subject entirely. “What is the nature of your relationship?”
I don’t allow Veil the time to answer. “She is the future mother of my heirs.”
As expected, Veil appears to choke on the weight of my words, but Mercy just scoffs and clenches her jaw.
“It’s, uh … romantic in nature,” Veil says, her voice cracking as she tries to be helpful and answer their questions seriously.
“They certainly did look romantic last night,” Constantine quips, sending us heart eyes our way.
Wolfgang ignores her and says, “However serious this fling is, you cemented your fate with the stunt you pulled last night. She’s not just another rube to discard; she’s anheir. From now on, you’re a couple.”
I push out a dry chuckle and raise Veil’s hand to my lips while longingly staring at her. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, my dear Wolfie.” I disregard his insulted hiss at the nickname, my gaze continuing to bore into Veil as her cheeks pinken with my steadfast attention. “My fate was always Veil Vulturine.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“We’re getting married,” Mercy blurts out.
This time, I’m the one left in shock—but evidently not surprised. There are happy gasps and muttering of congratulations around the table as my mouth falls open and myattention shifts to an awkward Mercy. Wolfgang, on the other hand, is puffing his chest, looking very pleased with himself.
