Nevermore (The Never Sky #2)

Chapter 13

13

W inter melted away as we stepped into the golden, dimly lit hall. Not only was it warm within the temple, but nearly sweltering. The crowded entry, full of masked people barely shuffling forward, might've been stifling if we had to wait there long.

Keeping my head down, I tried my best to mimic a woman I once knew that could hide within the shadows. Make no eye contact, be no one. Except, I’d always performed better when eyes were on me. When others couldn’t tear their gaze from mine, they paid no mind to what my hands were doing. But today, right now at least, I was not here to collect a thing. Only pretend.

“Eyes up, wife. Pay attention, now. Getting distracted in a temple is the most dangerous thing you could do.”

“And here I thought it was lying to the crown,” I grumbled.

Thorne spun, all but closing me in with his massive shoulders. “Be careful what you say with that pretty little mouth. Especially here.”

“You can’t compliment me and command me at the same time, prick.”

He moved a finger over my jaw, a sweet gesture for onlookers, though his tone was anything but. “If you think I enjoy the fact that I have to guide you like a fucking child, you’re wrong. But here we are, nonetheless.”

I reached up to straighten his tie, shifting it completely sideways instead of straight down as I smiled. “Maybe you should keep your mouth shut and just see where we end up. You know, practice some self-restraint.”

“Every second with you is a practice in self-restraint.”

I tilted my head to the side, narrowing my eyes. “Because you want to do naughty things with me? I knew it. We could say three times a day if it would make you feel better.”

He rolled his eyes. Mr. High and Mighty actually rolled his fucking eyes. “There’s something wrong with you.”

“Childhood trauma. In case anyone asks.”

He leaned closer, practically growling. “I’m not going to say that.”

“You should. The shock on people’s faces when you’re blunt is entertaining. Oh, tell them you rescued me from a bear that’d taken me in as its cub as a child up in good ‘ole Misby. That’s fun. That’s what I’m going to tell people. Why is your eye twitching?”

“A different kind of trauma,” he answered, trying to hide his glare.

I gasped, reaching up to run my fingers through his hair as I continued to fuck with him. “Is that sarcasm? I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Of all the people in the whole entire world I had to bind myself to…”

“What a lucky man you are, Thorne Noctus.”

“Indeed,” he answered, forcing a grin as he spun, snagging a glass from a passing tray and drinking the whole thing, hair now a complete mess. The night might suck but at least I could entertain myself.

Drinks flowed freely in the temple. Trickling laughter and a cacophony of voices settled around us as the richest in the city, with their beautiful gowns and finest suits, waited with palpable excitement. I wanted so badly to push to my toes and glance over the gathered crowd, just to see what all the fuss was about, but I couldn’t. I had to remind myself what role I played. Uninterested, unamused. As if I’d done this a thousand times and nothing could shock me.

A tall, uniformed man approached and took our coats. Thorne pulled us forward, glancing back with a steady, reassuring look on his face as we squeezed by chattering people. Each person we passed fell silent. Some gawked, others whispered behind their hands.

I didn’t know what I was expecting from a temple. Piety. Solemn moments. A great sacrifice or maybe a robed figure waiting to be praised, the Silk beseeching the gods to show favor? It certainly wasn’t a room filled with scattered pillars, elevating naked men and women. Nor people hanging from the ceiling on ropes, moving as one like a giant ocean wave to the slow and steady beat of a drum.

Covered with gold paint, the performers danced, touching themselves while the sultry melody played, their elaborate masks hiding their true identities. I didn’t mind, really. A naked body was hardly something of note when you spent enough time on stage, but here, it felt like a scandal. Like a secret law had been broken and only those privileged enough to walk beyond the doors were good enough to know about it.

The truth of the evening became abundantly clear. The Silks used this celebration to revel in anonymity, allowing them to forgo any sense of propriety with a free pass to follow their baser instincts. They danced, touching themselves, touching each other. Kissing and stroking, sweat poured off their bodies.

I felt them before I saw them. Standing inhumanly still around the perimeter of the room. The Cimmerians. Panic raced through me the moment I realized the gravity of the evening. I’d poked fun at Thorne and pushed his comfort level, but maybe I should have been as serious as he’d been. I’d forgotten. I let myself forget them because it was easier than remembering, and now I had to stand before the guards and pretend like they hadn’t taken a part of my soul.

I didn’t realize I’d stopped moving until Thorne’s massive body filled my vision. He placed two hands on my cheeks and forced my gaze away from the guards and onto him. “Tell me where you’re from, Paesha darling.”

“M-Misby.”

“Good girl. And where did we meet?”

I spoke so quietly, my racing heart was all I could hear. “On a snowy road.”

“It was the greatest moment of my existence,” he said, stepping backward, pulling me with him. “You had snowflakes on your eyelashes and that beautiful scowl on your face.” Another step. “You used such colorful language with your horse. I wondered if you were auditioning for a play. Tell me you remember.”

The fear melted from me as we stepped onto the dance floor. “It was cold.”

“Try harder,” he commanded, his annoyed tone long gone.

“I’d been stuck out there for hours, and I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes. The sun was setting. I thought I’d die that night. And then you came stomping around like you always do. Commanding the horse to be smarter and do better.”

“And he was as stubborn as you are.”

I managed a blink. “Did you just compare me to a horse?”

“There are worse things.”

The sultry strains of music wrapped around me like a lover. Forgetting the Cimmerians, I wanted to dance. Really dance. To find something of myself that’d been lost while trying to survive this realm. Each note caressed my skin as much as Thorne did. His fingers were gentle, sending shivers down my spine and I couldn’t help but lean into that touch and secretly, desperately hope for more. The room pulsated with an ancient rhythm, beckoning everyone to surrender to its seductive call. As if I’d heard those notes a million lifetimes ago, they forced me to focus on my body and the way each sweaty inch came alive before the man in front of me, instead of the danger lurking nearby.

I was an easy victim when it came to music and dance. They were my weakness. But Thorne was right there with me, moving as swiftly, his eyes locked on mine. He wanted a show? He wanted to convince them we were in love? It wasn’t going to happen with imagined stories and planted gossip. It would come from actions. From forcing them to watch us.

I grabbed his tie and spun, pulling it over my shoulder as I pressed my back to his chest, sliding down as I moved. He held on, matching my tempo and every sway of my body as if he were trained, as if he were just as desperate for that connection as I was. But some of his steps were clumsy, and he watched his feet as carefully as he watched me. His hands were perfect though. Touching where I’d hoped he would, trailing where they shouldn’t. No one else existed in our imagined spotlight. And if they did, I wouldn’t have known because the man never once looked away from me. Nor I, him. Not when he brushed a thumb over my lips as he pulled me flush against him. Not when he smiled as I spun away and yanked me back as if he’d missed me right there beside him. Not even when the music melted into a different song and the tempo changed.

We danced for three songs, our forced display garnering enough attention to satisfy him. The music changed and all sense of the man that’d pulled me onto the dance floor turned to ice with the small line between his brows returning as he cleared his throat. “That should do for now. They won’t expect us to stay together the whole night. The women will gather and gaggle over there.”

“Your view of women is really awe-inspiring,” I said, leveling my tone as we left the center of the room.

A stunning, curvy woman in a long red dress approached us. Her cropped blonde hair was perfectly curled to graze her chin, and she wore a hairpin in the shape of a moth. Her mask was similar to mine, covering only her eyes and doused in rubies to match her dress.

“Paesha, this is Harlow. Harlow, I don’t think you’ve formally met my wife.”

“Harlow,” I echoed, meeting her icy blue gaze.

Her smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly resumed her poised demeanor. “Paesha,” she greeted with a voice like soft silk enveloping the room. “A pleasure.” She leaned toward me and whispered. “In case you’re wondering, we have seen each other once before, under less… formal circumstances.” She held out a manicured hand.

“I remember,” I said coolly, taking it. A simple touch, the tiniest bit of power, and now she was marked. Harlow was the one with the men when they came to the prison to free Atticus, though seeing her now, formally dressed without a hair out of place, was entirely different. She was beautiful. But her eyes were discerning.

“I’ve been told the women gather and gaggle over there,” I said, jutting my chin toward a group of others.

Harlow’s head snapped to Thorne. “What is wrong with you?”

I bit back my smile, and he shot me a warning glance. If a show was what he wanted, then a show he would get.

“Oh my darling, don’t be so curt.” I moved to stand before him, sliding my hands up his broad chest. Only I could hear the small gasp as he looked at me through his black mask. Locking my hands behind his neck, I tugged him down to whisper in his ear. “I’m going to move every single thing in your house when you fall asleep tonight.”

He grinned, showing far too many teeth as he whispered back. “I fucking dare you.”

“Such language,” I said aloud, swatting him away. “Save that for later. A woman can only take so much.” I turned to Harlow. “We’re on a two-times a day schedule.”

He choked on his gasp this time, and I pulled away entirely. “What? Are we not discussing your tonic?”

The color rushed back to his face, and he didn’t miss a beat. “If you’re referring to the amount of liquor I’ve had to drink lately, then discuss away, but don’t forget the reason.”

“Oh no, dear. I meant the other one. For the rash?”

Harlow let loose a silvery laugh.

He grabbed me and pulled me close again, growling, “Stop it,” in my ear.

“Do you two need a room? A coat closet?” Archer’s warm voice came from behind us. He pulled a coin from his pocket and flipped it in the air before catching it and nudging me with a shoulder. “Nice to see you again.” He dipped a chin to Harlow. “Harlot.”

She glared. “Don’t call me that, brother.”

“We ready?” Archer asked, looking at Thorne.

His eyes flashed at me, giving nothing away before looking at Harlow. “It’s about to start. Make sure she stays away from the front of the crowd.”

“You know I will.” She linked arms with me and tugged. “I promise I won’t leave you to the vultures.”

I had no idea how much Thorne had told the woman about our situation, but she pulled me dutifully through the throng of people. Did she think we’d actually gotten married? Did she think he knew me before the prison escape? With no information, the only thing I could really do was keep my head down and my mouth shut. That was the best idea, anyway. People that listened more than they talked typically knew far more than those with a thousand things to say. And maybe someone here would know something about the Lord of the Salt or the Hollow.

The women stared down their noses at their friends. They gossiped behind their hands and pointed as they spoke. Each conversation, each word exchanged, was laced with a venomous sweetness. I couldn’t help but feel like a moth drawn to a deadly flame, taking it all in. A terrible realization occurred. It wasn’t beauty I beheld in this magnificent temple. It was decadence, excessiveness, it was sickness.

Lost in the murmurs of the chattering crowd, I barely heard the music fade. Still, I continued to study the people. I knew fine things. The way a real jewel glistened in candlelight versus an imitation. The subtle difference between silk that caressed the skin like a lover’s touch and its cheaper counterpart that only hinted at luxury. The taste of true aged wine, rich and complex, compared to the diluted imitation that left a bitter aftertaste. The sound of genuine laughter, full of warmth and sincerity, as opposed to the hollow echoes of forced mirth. Those tiny bits of knowledge were paid for with every moment I spent living on the end of the Maestro’s rope, chasing luxury and life, unlike the one I was born into.

But the people here? Dripping in jewels and fine silks? I’d bet my last coin none of them knew about suffering. None of them knew anything about the people standing just outside the temple, gathered around, just to watch them enter. There weren’t such clear lines drawn in Requiem. The rich weren’t above crawling into bed with the poor. Here, I can’t imagine what kind of scandal that would be. And that’s exactly what Thorne was worried about.

“Thorne told me this is your first Lithe. I think I should warn you before it really begins,” Harlow said, stealing me from my thoughts. “It’s going to be overwhelming at first, but the most important thing is to avoid the selection. Keep your head down. Your eyes are unique, and they will draw attention. As I’m sure you know.”

“So I’ve been told.”

She swiped a glass from a passing tray and handed it to me.

“Thank you.”

“For the nerves,” she said quietly, eyes pinned on a Cimmerian standing on the perimeter of the room. “We’ll avoid them. And the women for now. Don’t want to seem too eager.”

We stopped walking, standing closer to the door than the dance floor, and about as far away from the head of the cavernous room as possible. I did everything I could to refrain from looking around. A woman in high society would not concern herself with beautiful carvings, golden ceilings or naked people dancing on a pillar.

Harlow grabbed another glass and finished it in three gulps. “Get ready. Eyes down.”

I stared at the beautiful white floor laced with golden flecks as three low bells chimed, and the room silenced. As if I were hit by a tidal wave, the heat in the room became nearly unbearable.

I wouldn’t claim to know a thing about the gods that ruled the realms. They’d all but abandoned mine long ago. But clearly not this one. And this temple didn’t belong to a God of Shadows or a God of Moons or whatever else those assholes deigned themselves rulers of. This temple belonged to a goddess. One whose name I’d seen on an ancient tapestry hung in my old boss’s office. And as the crowd fell to their knees, fine gowns be damned, there she sat beyond the dance floor, upon her throne, staring down at the people that clearly worshiped her: Serene, Goddess of Loss and Lust.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, as my heart hammered in my throat, I lifted my gaze to meet the piercing stare of the Goddess of Lust. Draped in sheer gold fabric, not an ounce of her perfect form hidden, she sat upon her elevated throne, a regal figure bathed in an otherworldly glow. Beside her, an old king sat, seemingly insignificant, a mere mortal in the presence of true divinity. But it was the goddess’s smile that sent a chill racing through my veins, a smile that held the promise of untold power and unfathomable darkness. And she’d stared at me as if she knew all my secrets the moment I’d stepped through her doors.

“Shit,” Harlow spat, keeping her head down.

She knew, of course. They all did, following the piercing gaze of the goddess. Serene rose from her seat slowly, eyes holding me frozen in place. The rest of the world could have fallen into a pit of fire, and I’d have never known it. I couldn’t look away, couldn’t bear the thought of it. I wanted only one thing in the entire world. Her. I wanted to touch her perfect skin and taste her. I wanted to brush my lips upon hers and…

Only when she looked away from me did the thoughts subside. Though an ache had grown between my legs. A desire to touch myself, right here in front of everyone, nearly smothered me. With a reluctant swallow, I cursed the goddess and her godsdamned magic. Anyone worth their death knew this temple was a dangerous place to be. What a fool I was to agree to this farce. I’d been a victim of the war between logic and desire in the span of minutes.

How weak I was.

“Stand, dear ones,” the goddess said, her voice as pure as a child’s song, echoing off of painted walls and stilling the flicker of the candles surrounding the room. “It’s time to select the Paramour of Lithe. And as you all know, your king has been gifted with this honor.” She turned, holding a hand toward the old king. “Come, Your Grace, select your Paramour and let us celebrate.” He pushed himself up from his seat, standing only at the goddess’s shoulder, his round belly and white hair aging him far more than the wrinkles around his eyes.

Everyone rose, but there was nowhere to run. Nothing to do but keep my head down and hope the Goddess hadn’t truly been watching me.

“This is fine,” Harlow whispered, slipping her hand around my bicep. “As soon as he chooses, we just have one little thing to do, and then we can get out of here. The Goddess will forget. It’s fine. Completely fine.”

“Which one of us are you trying to convince?” I asked as the crowd began to murmur with anticipation.

We sank backward, slipping behind shoulder after shoulder. Away from the attention, away from the crowd until I collided with a broad chest. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief as I turned my head to find the stern face of my pretend husband. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been across the room. Yet he’d come for me, and try as I might to hate him, he was my only confidant in the world right now.

We locked eyes, and he dipped his chin in reassurance. “Steady.”

The crowd bowed to the king, then clapped, though the sound seemed muted compared to the chuckle the old king released as the goddess whispered into his ear. Pink raced across round cheeks. He nodded to the goddess and together, they stepped from their dais and into the crowd.

It wasn’t until the surrounding crowd parted and Thorne grew rigid behind me that I accepted I was well and truly fucked.