Nevermore (The Never Sky #2)

Chapter 15

15

T hough the king stood at my side, his grasp gentle and his eyes discerning, fear settled in as the faceless Cimmerians formed a circle around us on the dance floor. There were no thoughts of Thorne, just survival as my vision darkened and the only thing I could see were prison bars and the blood on the floor. Hear the crack of the whip and the squeal of the wheel when I’d been stretched on the rack. Smell the rot of bodies left for the rats. I’d been to Death’s court. That was not the fear here. It was the journey.

“Father,” Prince Farris crooned, holding a glass in one hand as he stepped through the perimeter of robed guards. “You’ve not introduced me to our new friend. But no matter. I think we’ve met, haven’t we, beauty?”

Phantom hands of fear held any words I might say from coming. I fought the urge to run.

“Tonight’s Paramour, son,” the king said with a flourish of his hand, though he didn’t look either of us in the eye. “Her duty is done.”

The prince sloshed his drink to the side, letting it spill as he continued. “And does our Paramour have a name, Father?”

The old man cleared his throat, straightening as if he meant to look down on his son, though the feat was impossible with such a height difference. “As is her right this evening, her name remains a mystery. Or have you forgotten the traditions of Lithe?”

I prided myself on knowing people. Reading them. The king meant to protect me with his sharp words, and I wasn’t sure why, but I was certainly not upset about it. This was a game. Farris knew my first name, and the king knew my pretend surname. They both knew Thorne.

The prince reached for my chin, and I fought every one of my instincts screaming to pull away as he studied my eyes behind the black diamond mask. The leather texture of his glove rubbed my face, and the familiar smell reminded me of my old boss. I wondered which would have been worse: the wrath of a crime lord, of which I was intimately familiar, or the wrath of a prince, held beneath the fist of his father’s rule.

“Farris!” The old king’s bark of his son’s name didn’t dissuade him from squeezing harder.

The Cimmerians stepped closer as one. As if they shared a single mind with no spoken words. Maybe it was the proximity to the king, knowing he held ultimate authority here, but I could feel the fear melting into anger the longer the bastard gripped my chin in defiance of his father.

Narrowing my eyes, muscles tensed and fists at my side, I held my breath as he leaned closer, his words hot on my ear. “Come see me later, Paramour. I have just the thing to treat that defiant nature I can see in those stunning eyes.” Without waiting for me to reply, he pushed me away and spun to his father. “Time for bed, Your Grace. I can take it from here.”

“I’m quite capable?—”

The prince tossed his head back and laughed, his shoulders relaxing, his stance melting into a different man than he’d been seconds ago. “You have an entire kingdom to run, Father, and we all know how much you hate these types of events. I’ll have one of my men see you home.”

The prince jutted his chin toward the closest guards, and they closed in around the old man, effectively cutting me off from him before I could say goodbye. As if on cue, the music transitioned into something far more pulsating, and the dance floor swarmed with all the people that’d been waiting around the edge.

Lithe had officially begun, and while I was relieved my part was over, I was equally concerned for that old king.

But I’d already taken on a world of problems and that wasn’t one of them. I prepared myself to be bombarded by onlookers trying to figure out who I was, how they knew me, and as was common with high society, why they prematurely decided they were better than I was. Instead, they turned their backs, immediately shutting me out. Which was ideal.

With each slow beat of music, the gold painted dancers, naked on their pillars changed their pose. The goddess’s power seeped down the walls, thickening the air until it was hard to breathe without feeling every inch of my skin come alive, over and over again.

I scanned the room for Thorne, easily picking him out. He stood a head taller than most of the crowd. A doting wife might’ve joined him, an adoring husband might’ve been waiting in the wings for me. Instead, he stood amongst a group of women, his posture casual, his laugh loud as they conversed. Though I hardly knew him, that relaxed state and joyful nature wasn’t one I’d seen from him. Which begged the question, how miserable had our pretend marriage made the man?

I sank backward through the room, keeping my ears open for mention of the Lord of Salt or the Hollow, shutting out the idea of Thorne entirely. They’d said we were leaving as soon as the selection was over, but clearly, the promise of a seductive evening had taken over. The music shifted to a lively tune, eliciting a pang of longing to join in the dance but I denied myself the pleasure.

With each passing minute, the temperature in the room rose, the heat pressing in until I could feel the sweltering in my bones. Sweat gathered at my temples and trickled down my spine. Each breath drew in warm, stifling air, leaving my mouth dry and parched. My dress clung to my skin, trapping the heat, making every movement uncomfortable. Men began stripping layers of their suits, tossing them at servants passing through the crowd.

I swiped a glass from a sweaty man carrying a golden tray through the room. With the glass inches from my lips, Harlow flashed in front of me, and before I knew it, the drink splashed down my dress and the glass shattered on the floor. I barely stifled a curse.

“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry,” she said, louder than necessary. Sweeping her slender, red gown to the side so she could kneel to gather broken pieces. She shook her head and glared as if I were a petulant child, and she was my caretaker.

I knelt, plucking shards as she fumed. “What are you thinking?” She held a piece of the glass between us, “This is the goddess’s crystal. Drink from it and you’ll be poisoned with lust for the rest of your life. Everyone knows that. I swear, it’s like you’re trying to get yourself caught.”

“Caught?”

“Of course I know you two…” her voice trailed off as she looked in Thorne’s direction.

“I never asked for his help. And I’m not asking for yours now.”

And it would be easier for me if I had less people to juggle my lies between. But one day soon, I would simply vanish and remain a mystery to them for the rest of their days. These conversations, even the run-ins with the prince’s guard were trivial in the grand scheme of things. As long as I could avoid the Maw, I’d be home soon.

Large blue eyes widened. “I wasn’t judging. I’m willing to help, of course. But I would think a respectable woman from Misby would know not to touch the goddess’s glass. Doesn’t she have a temple there?”

I stood, holding several pieces of the cursed crystal as carefully as I could. “I don’t like the gods or the temples. I prefer to stay home and read a book. So probably, but that’s not something I would know a lot about.”

Her red dress glimmered in the warm chandelier light as she rose from the ground. “That’s fair. I’m sorry, I just assumed…”

“Well, now you know.”

She dropped the broken crystal on another passing tray. Her long, slender finger pointed to the floor so the half-dressed man could see the mess. “You might get someone to clean this.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And take hers as well.”

The man kept his eyes to the floor as he held his tray out, waiting for me to discard the glass. With a sigh, I handed over the broken glass, making eye contact with the man for a brief second before he slipped into the crowd.

Harlow smoothed her hands down her gown before adjusting her mask, looking pointedly over my shoulder. “I’ve just seen someone I need to speak with. A word of advice, don’t touch anything… and try not to speak to anyone.”

“Disappear. Got it.”

With a shrug, she took my hand and squeezed. “We can talk later. I’ll teach you what’s important to know.”

I forced a smile as she spun and walked away.

Confident I’d melt into the floor if I didn’t cool off soon, I moved toward the door, taking in deep gulps of cool air each time it opened. I thought maybe I should leave. Use a little magic to hunt down Thorne’s carriage and wait for him there, but just as I’d decided to, I caught a billowing flash of Harlow’s dress. I watched as she laughed with a group of people. But it wasn’t her laughter that held my attention, nor the company she kept, but rather the tiny steps backward. The subtle way she drew her company toward her as she moved.

I thought it was a strange habit until I caught her glance over a shoulder, making eye contact with Thorne. He had eyes only for her, watching… directing her through the space with subtle movements until she collided with a woman doused in jewels. Harlow grabbed the woman’s wrist, apologizing, tipping sideways as if she were far more drunk than she’d been minutes ago. The woman sneered and said something I couldn’t make out before turning away. But I didn’t miss the gleam of that diamond bracelet as it fell into the small bag hanging from Harlow’s wrist. Nor the eye contact she made with Thorne before spinning away. Thorne. Lord High and Mighty himself… paired with a beautiful blonde, were nothing but sneaky, little thieves. What were the odds? Considering he’d given me that title earlier with quick disdain.

I’d guessed as much with Archer, after watching the events of Tithe, but he’d helped that woman with the children. Had been part of a bigger plot to get her the red bag I’d watched someone steal. This was different. This was careless. In a crowd of rich people showing off their status… If I had seen them, anyone could have.

I kept my eyes locked on Harlow. She’d been quick. Sly. Nearly perfect. Except she didn’t plan for the prince to be standing beside her. On collision, his guards moved in surrounding them as her bag flew to the floor. Watching over a short man’s shoulder, I caught the brief look of panic race across her beautiful face, and I knew, without a doubt, the bracelet she’d just stolen had fallen out. Before I realized it, I was moving. Through the throng of people, twisting sideways and back, yanking my dress free from being stepped on as I closed in. With the prince’s back to me, I scanned the floor, but I couldn’t see anything until the tiniest glint of light reflected off the diamond bracelet, half hidden beneath the hem of a nearby gown.

Without pausing to think, I dropped to my knees, pretending to fix something on my shoe. My fingers brushed the cool metal, and I quickly slipped the bracelet into my bust, the weight of the jewels pressing into my skin. Harlow’s jaw slackened as she watched me rise, understanding what I had done. The prince had a tight grip on her bare arm, and though I couldn’t hear the words, the sharp tone was anything but kind and regal.

I needed a distraction, something that would draw the prince’s attention away from Harlow and give her a chance to escape. She’d saved my ass with the tray, now it was my turn to save hers, or at the very least, try. My mind raced, but there was only one true answer, one talent honed not by magic, but through my own blood, sweat, and tears.

I took a deep breath and approached the prince, squeezing past the guards and between him and Harlow, though I knew it was a dangerous game. I let my body fall loose, pushing my breasts forward as I leaned in and slid a finger over his chest, pretending I’d had just enough drinks to not care about the repercussions with my new husband. “Your Highness,” I said, bowing slightly, letting my eyes fall slowly down his slender body. “This is my favorite song. I was hoping we could dance?”

Dropping Harlow’s arm, the prince turned to me, surprise flickering in his eyes. He hesitated, then extended his hand. His grip, cold and firm. “Of course.”

As we moved onto the dance floor, Harlow used the moment to shuffle away from the guards, toward the door. I just needed to buy her a little more time.

The prince was an excellent dancer, but he led with a firm hold and fingers that wandered far too low for comfort. I plastered a sweet smile on my face and let the music take over, sweeping me into a melodious place of comfort. I’d never heard the song before, but the pulse of the drums carried me without pause, each spin and step a balm to my rattled, realm-traveling soul.

“You’re quite bold, Paramour. Will your new husband not be furious?”

Ignoring my pounding heart and every warning bell pealing through my mind, I let him pull me closer, let him wrap the ends of my hair around his fist, let him fall prey to the lust permeating the room.

“He certainly will be,” Thorne said from our side, every bit the stoic statue as other people on the dance floor halted to keep from plowing into him when the music stopped mid-song.

Thorne’s forced jealousy was exactly what would have been expected of him, and he’d played the part perfectly.

I smiled sweetly, patting his chest. “Don’t be rude, darling. Our prince has asked for a dance.”

“Yes, darling,” Farris drawled, releasing my hair. “Don’t be rude.”

I watched the prince’s gaze fall onto the fist balled at Thorne’s side as he stepped just to the edge of the dance floor without blinking. Farris’s laugh grated all the way down my spine as the music began again and I spun away, no longer swept into the sway of the song, but rather the role I was forced to play to keep all the pieces from falling apart. At this point, I was certain Thorne would be my quickest path to the Hollow. But how long would this charade have to continue? And would I be better off simply asking him?

My gaze flashed to his, catching the very subtle dip of his chin. He knew what I’d done to save Harlow. Maybe that would be a bargaining chip for answers. Farris brushed a strand of sweaty hair from my face. I clenched my teeth to keep from pulling away. I knew the hunger within his eyes. Hunger I’d catered to by throwing myself in his path. Perhaps the target on my back had grown, but when I was gone, none of it would matter.

The song ended with a long dramatic note and the prince clapped his hands, dark eyes locked on mine. “There are plenty of dances left in this night. Find me for your last.” His words were not a plea but a demand. A threat even.

I forced a giggle and bowed before rushing to Thorne’s side. The brooding man didn’t waste a single second. Not one note, as he led me back to the dance floor and declared, “This dance is mine. And not just this one. Every last dance of every event for the rest of our lives.”

The woman closest to us sighed as she looked at Thorne. He yanked me closer and whispered, “Good girl. Now finish strong and we can get out of here.”

The music began with a deep, deep tone that carried dramatically through the room. But it wasn’t the music that concerned me. It was the flash of power that locked onto me. The bone-deep rattle of pure need that jolted through me, causing me to go rigid.

Serene had struck.

Thorne, sensing my distraction, tightened his grip on me. His palm seared through the thin fabric of my dress, a hot touch working to ground me back to reality.

“Focus,” he hissed, but it wasn’t his voice that filled my ears. It was hers. The haunting, seductive whisper from the golden-eyed goddess lurking somewhere nearby.

I pressed my body closer to Thorne, hating the whimper that escaped as I became aware of every place our bodies touched. The fabric of his suit brushed against my skin, soft and warm. It was addictive, this feeling of being held so tightly. His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling it free from the hair pins, letting it tumble down my back in a waterfall of curls that tickled.

My body wound tighter and tighter. The friction of my thighs touching, of his hands moving gently across the small of my back, the heat, the people crowding around us, kissing, removing clothing, it was all too much. A wave of need crested between my legs.

Thorne moved his hands up, gripping my neck as he leaned down, his warm breath dancing across my collarbone as he spoke. “It’s the goddess’s power. Try to fight it. Eyes on me.”

“I think I need…”

“Not much longer.”

Suddenly it was only him and I in an empty room as a faint song played in the background. With hands wrapped firmly around my waist, he lifted me, spinning us both, consuming me with his touch. His hands never left me, as we stepped in and out on time with the beat, he expertly overwhelmed my senses, keeping my mind on the steps and not how it felt to be touched by him. The way he looked at me as if I were truly his last everything didn’t matter. The way he’d protected me and watched me was only a show. The way his fingers held me tight enough to appease a fraction of the ache was merely a performance by a poised man.

Before I knew it, the song was over, and he was leading us through the room in a rush. Archer was already at the door with our cloaks. I threw mine around me as we stepped out of the temple. The air, though freezing, was purifying; each breath washed away a layer of Serene’s power.

The carriage ride back to Thorne’s home was silent. I didn’t want to go to his house. I wanted to go to mine. I wanted to stand at the entrance of the Syndicate house and watch a little girl with wild, curly hair come running for me with her dog at her heels. I wanted to eat Elowen’s soup and argue with Thea over things that weren’t really important. I was tired. So damn tired, and this night had been for Thorne, but tomorrow would be for me. He was either going to tell me everything he knew about the Hollow and the Lord of the Salt, or I would have to leave and find it on my own. I’d had enough of Wisteria.