Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
MORGANA
T o my surprise, Aster let me be for the remainder of the day. Erynna hadn’t even stolen me away to train. Perhaps making a scene was a good way to ensure I wasn’t bothered.
Perhaps discovering that Aster was as cruel and secretive as I had initially envisioned was just what I needed to faint over in order to earn the freedom of silence. Though I hadn’t fainted because of his involvement, had I?
No. I’d fainted because of the omen of sirens. The cryptic message that stole the breath right out of my lungs. If we were still to go to Avendatis, I’d be forced to work with Aster again, but at least I could discover what he knew about the letter. I could, perhaps, better understand what Siren may have had to do with Galen’s fate.
I ate alone. Anabel and Vera helped me prepare for a bath, but luckily they’d honored their promise to give me the bits and pieces of independence I was allotted. I was able to bathe, only fearful of the prying eyes of these terrible shadows and not the overbearing, calloused hands of the servants. Anabel told me she’d wait for me after I confided in her about this party. To my surprise, she’d already known about it.
She encouraged it, in fact. Something about the idea of loosening your strings and relaxing before your journey.
I had slipped into one of the dresses the crown had given me, waiting on the bed until the moon was higher than the window and the idle chatter and movements within the castle silenced. Atlas’s invitation was heavy in my hand, concise instructions on how to navigate the halls in order to find the wing where the festivities were being hosted. When I poked my head out the door, Anabel was waiting with a hood over her head and a small candlestick in hand. She smiled sheepishly at me. I breathed out in soft relief.
Anabel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she met my gaze, a silent understanding passing between us. We moved in synchronized silence through the dimly lit corridors, the flickering candle casting eerie shadows that danced along the stone walls. The weight of anticipation lay heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of damp earth and distant whispers. I wondered if Aster was watching from the darkness, but I no longer feared him. In fact, I no longer cared if he found me and threw me back in a dungeon cell.
As we approached the intimate hall where the festivities were held, strains of music floated through the heavy oak doors, beckoning us closer. Anabel shot me an encouraging smile before pushing through. There were probably thirty bodies in the small space, dancing to the festive musicians whose music reminded me of the sort of tunes you’d hear bleeding from a tavern, not a royal palace. The room was aglow with a thousand candles, their warm light reflecting off jewel-toned tapestries that adorned the walls. Nobles and courtiers, decked out in opulent garments that shimmered and sparkled, mingled under a ceiling painted to resemble a starlit sky. Even more, there were at least half a dozen servants too. They weren’t serving tonight though. They were dancing.
I took in the revelers as they twirled and laughed. Anabel squeezed my arm reassuringly before blending into the crowd, leaving me to navigate the sea of unfamiliar faces alone. “Have fun, ” is all she’d told me. She was already in the arms of a man, dancing and laughing as if they’d done this every week.
Hells, they probably did.
As I moved through the room, a flash of crimson caught my eye. Atlas Sinclair stood near a grand tapestry, his focus fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. He lifted a glass of wine in silent invitation, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. I made my way toward him as intrigue warmed my nerves, the soft music guiding my steps.
“Miss Kyllingham,” Atlas greeted me with a smooth voice that sent shivers down my spine. His gawk traveled down to the threads of my dress, a brow arched. “You look common. In the best of ways, I assure you.”
I raised an eyebrow at Atlas, unimpressed by his attempt at flattery. “I think there is enough grandeur to go around,” I retorted, crossing my arms as I studied him. His crimson eyes gleamed.
“I can agree with that,” he mused. He turned to the table on his left and grabbed a thin-stemmed glass, handing it to me. I eyed the black liquid. It was the same wine Aster had let me try a few nights ago. For a brief moment, terror washed down my spine, but I swallowed it and accepted the glass. Tonight, I would drink to forget the truth he’d drowned me in.
Atlas watched me with keen interest. I could sense the underlying currents of manipulation in his every word and gesture, but was it wrong if I admired it? In a way, it was the most honest thing I’d likely witnessed in this damned castle. I took a cautious sip of the dark wine, its rich flavor coating my tongue as I let my gaze wander across the room. The dancers moved gracefully to the music, their laughter mingling with the soft notes that filled the air. Despite the lavishness surrounding us, there was an air of freedom and abandon.
Atlas leaned closer, his voice a mere whisper in the cacophony around us. “Is this what you expected?” I paused to try and envision what it was I imagined. Perhaps something similar to the ball I’d first met Aster at, where Lord DeBurne had attacked me. The luxury still existed, but the energy that buzzed in the room was unlike anything I’d expect at a royal affair. I shook my head. Atlas chuckled softly, a sound that held a hint of genuine amusement. He dipped his head back to swallow the rest of his wine whole and offered a hand. “Then let us continue to defy your expectations, Lady Kyllingham. I am told I’m a wonderful dancer.”
It was a statement, not so much a question. I didn’t trust Atlas, but to be fair, I didn’t trust most of the people I’d met so far. And those I had turned out to be snakes in the dirt. I blinked at him, licking my lips to wet them before doing just as he had—drinking my glass whole, setting it down, and accepting his hand.
Atlas pulled me into the mass of twirling bodies. My skin prickled in protest—I felt like a sheep in a den of wolves, exposed and vulnerable, even with the haze of a strong drink already settling over me.
Within seconds, we fell into sync with the other dancers, his touch firm yet surprisingly gentle as he led me through the familiar steps. My nerves slowly dissolved in a mixture of anticipation and exhilaration, and I began to relax, letting myself enjoy the music and Atlas’s proximity.
He wasn’t just handsome, he was enchanting—too charming to resist. He commanded the floor, every move sure and deliberate. His muscles rippled against my skin as our bodies brushed together. As the music reached a crescendo, Atlas spun me and drew me flush against his chest, our breaths intermingling in the heated air.
He smiled and leaned forward, his breath tickling my ear. “You keep such a strong guard up. It’s strange, but as we dance, I can almost feel it crumble. You’re scared, aren’t you?”
I tilted my head to capture his eyes again, our noses all but brushing. I was that easy to read? Was my guard truly crumbling? I shook my head in defiance, to which his smile widened. It was feline, as was his warm laugh.
“You lie,” he hissed and spun me around again. I gasped, our bodies melting together as he held me far closer than a gentleman should. I found myself grinning at it. Laughing, even. We spent hours, just like that. Chuckling, drinking, and challenging one another with our words. For a brief pause, I had all but forgotten I was stuck in the palace. That my brother’s fate was too close to the crown—too involved in this madness.
I was happy. Drunk, and happy.
As the night wore on, the debauchery intensified. The intoxicating blend of perfume and sweat filled the air, mingling with the rich aroma of the wine. I wasn’t sure if it was the lightheadedness or an actual fact, but the music took on a sensual rhythm. The party-goers seemed to lose themselves in the moment, their movements becoming more fluid. More intimate.
I found myself dancing with Atlas more. Finding myself drinking more. Finding myself closer, too, though I wasn’t sure how much of that was the alcohol and how much of that was the pull he seemed to have on me. We played a game of back and forth with one another—he challenged me, and I gave a better rebuttal. At one point, the conversations veered into subjects far beyond courtly niceties, and we soon became fast friends. At least friends for the night. I was fine with that. I wasn’t thinking clearly enough anyway.
He pulled me against him for a slow dance, his hands gripping my waist while mine rested on his shoulders. I swallowed the lump in my throat and let him take the lead. My attention drifted to the other bodies, some of which were sprawled over pillows and plush, backless chairs. I captured the sight of Anabel, who whispered into the ear of the male servant she’d rushed to dance with when we first arrived.
I watched their mouths dance over each other before colliding. I turned my chin, hot embarrassment coloring my face. It was then that I realized most of the guests were entwined with one another. With their bodies touching, their faces melting together, their hands exploring every dip and curve of the other’s bodies.
I gasped as Atlas drew my ogle away with a light tug at my chin. I looked up to his face, realizing his mouth was hovering over mine. Our breaths melded, and the smell of wine made me shudder.
“Are you fearful of such merriment?” he muttered down at me. My entire body hummed in his presence. “This wine is strong. Far too easy to get carried away.”
My stomach clenched and twisted in circles. He was handsome—by the fucking hells, he was far too handsome to deny. He resembled Aster in many ways, as if they were brothers. I knew they were not. I knew they were as distant as could be, in fact, but those eyes, that smirk, it was all too much alike.
I craved it.
Every time I blinked, I saw Aster in his place.
Fucking hells.
Aster and I had gotten close to caving into this tumultuous storm of desire and hatred, but we always stopped. It left me starved. Drained. I did not believe I craved Aster’s affections—but I craved human touch. It was rare that I demanded such a thing. Perhaps it was the wine, or perhaps it was the magic, but I was caving into Atlas. A shiver coursed through me. He had been inching closer to me, so dangerously close. He held a certain edge of confidence that hadn’t existed with Aster.
He did not doubt this.
No—this would happen, if it was what he wanted.
Everyone was occupied with some sort of dance that would cause a lord of fine stature to be indicted by the courts. I stole another glance at Anabel and the male, their bodies tangled on one of the luxurious, lounging settees, their lips tangled together. Her blouse was gone, leaving a bare back as she?—
Oh, gods. She was arching against him as his hips pistoned against hers, rolling, circling, groping, grabbing. He held her tight to his body, his head thrown back in rapturous passion. No one was paying them any mind. The entire party was taken in pleasure. Even the band was being swept into the lust, their music rising as hands wrapped around legs, cupped asses, gripped wrists, and lips, teeth, and tongues dragged across flesh. This was like a hex—a curse. It smelt, tasted, and looked dangerous.
The soft lighting suddenly flickered, sending the ballroom into darkness.
It was illicit. It was the candles melting, allowing more darkness to invade the space, a writhing harmony of limbs and shadows and secrets. But what happened after it all melted? What came after the kiss? Or the removal of trousers and the hiking of skirts? What was the conclusion? The final piece to it all?
I turned back to Atlas. This was his plan—to get me drunk and frenzied by the idea. He knew I was starved. I let out a tiny gasp. Atlas brushed the hair from my face. With delicate care, he whispered, “It may be wise for you to leave, Lady Kyllingham.”
I nodded, stiff and quick. “It may be,” I said just as quietly.
“I’d imagine Aster would be enraged if he knew you were here.”
My glare hardened. I had turned to stone for but a second before shaking my head. “Perhaps it may be wise to imagine Aster’s rage. It may motivate you, Prince Atlas.”
“There are very few things that could motivate me right now.” My breath slowed, and my pulse steadied. My eyes fluttered down to the strong line of his jaw. A smirk tilted on the curve of his lips.
His fingers trailed across my cheek before cupping the side of my face. His lips ghosted over my own before brushing them. It was delicate. The ghost of a touch. My breath caught and my eyes trained on his blurry features as we melted into one another.
I almost closed the gap too. I almost pressed my lips to his fully so I could make like Anabel, to feel the pleasure I’d been stripped of. To taste the sweet wine on Atlas’s tongue. To give him my body for pleasure’s sake.
I shuddered as his fingers sank through the soft hair that fell past my shoulders. His hands scraped the back of my neck and I imagined it traveling lower, down to my stomach, where he’d rip open my bodice and bury his mouth on my bare breast.
Still, in the haze—in the darkness behind my eyes—it was not Atlas I saw. It was not Atlas I envisioned.
I released a slow breath, trembling from his proximity. He was so close. So close. If I had lifted my hand and let my fingers skate the sharp line of his jaw and down to the prominent angle of his neck, I’d be able to tug at the linen shirt that separated us. Then, there would only be bare skin and the thin layers of my skirts, an erratic heart pumping, and a sudden?—
“And, unfortunately, Aster’s rage does not do me much good.”
He moved his lips to kiss my cheek, and then he stepped to the side, his back eventually turning to me as he grabbed another glass of wine. I was left writhing in that spot, aching for a kiss.
For the second time, I ached for something that I was refused in quick succession. Only, with Aster’s rejection came remorse and a nasty revelation. With Atlas’s rejection, however, it was cold. Intentional.
Perhaps his manipulation was not the distraction I needed after all.
I turned and sped out of the room. I was pathetic, tears brimming along my eyes as my body ached and my heart cracked. He found joy in that. I bet he laughed at the look of bewildered shock that crossed my features when he stepped away just as our lips touched.
Anabel hadn’t warned me of what this night would entail. I wasn’t even upset at her for not preparing me. I was upset with myself and that cocky, smug little prince.
I slammed my bed chamber door shut and collapsed onto the bed, screaming into the pillow. The shadows around me quaked. I could feel it in my bones as if I willed them to tremble. I turned my back and huffed, staring at the ceiling in silence. I watched the shadows still.
Closing my eyes, I tried to envision anything but warm lips against mine. To recall something that was stronger than the desire to envelop myself in Aster’s icy shadows, or Atlas’s possessive hold. I cared little about either of them, but they both were warring with my sanity. I feared Aster’s was from his own ignorance and Atlas’s was for a sick, twisted means of entertainment.
Either way, I was left aching.
So I bunched my skirt up, letting my imagination run forward as if my kiss with Atlas had not been stopped. The unease of his intention was less than ideal though.
Aster’s touch, however, was a haunting what-if. I imagined what may have happened if he had not been consumed by his own guilt and duty. What would happen if he was present in the ballroom with me, dancing me into oblivion? I couldn’t control myself. The darkness wove its spell over me and took what it wanted. My thoughts were not my own. They were Aster’s. Atlas’s touch on my skin faded and I was coiled around a body larger than my own, Aster’s lips scalding as he pulled at my bodice in the confines of that study he brought me to nights ago. I imagined what may have happened if he hadn’t told me about Galen’s tragedy, or the magic that had consumed him.
But my magic aided me. I did not need to imagine it with my own hands.
I shivered, the shadows that had stilled over my head wrapped tightly around my thighs. It was intimately similar to Aster’s cold magic, sinking around me and sending my stomach clenching. The warmth that bled off me reminded me that I was in control. Panic waded in the distance at the idea of a prying eye invading my privacy, but the shadows sank between my legs and swirled against my core, wrapping themselves around me. The gasp that parted my lips was drowned out by the pulsing blood rushing in my ears. My entire body jerked.
I let my senses dull, wondering how his calloused hands would rake over the curve of my breasts before lifting my skirt and descending. I imagined his wicked tongue doing unspeakable things that my own, tentative tongue could not. My magic, however, answered the most daring question: what would his shadows feel like?
The darkness took form. I bucked my hips at it and covered my lips with my fingers to contain my cries.
More.
More.
Sweat slid down my back as the dark consumed me entirely. Every one of my fantasies took form with my shadows—the darkest, deepest secrets I hadn’t told anyone wrapping around my wrists and pinning them.
This was bliss.
Ethereal bliss.
But even the shadows lacked the friction of human contact. Skin to skin. I whimpered at the thought. To have his heat above mine, inside mine. The stars knew how bad I needed this. My fingers wouldn’t do. Not with this type of longing.
The shadows claimed the desire of my own tongue. It was like an intrusion. A wretched feeling that was sinful enough to damn me to the hells of Vespera.
I writhed beneath my magic, crying his name over and over again. My hand flung out for the sheets, clawing until my fingers gave way. The shadow consumed me, pressing its warmth into me until I finally found release.
My ecstasy peaked and a soft, pleasured sigh left my parted lips. It took all my strength, my own ability, to allow my hands to release the blanket.
If it were Aster in this bed, he’d do unspeakable things to me. I didn’t want to speak about them. I didn’t need to know or question them. I simply craved them.
The shadows dissipated. They settled into the room, leaving an unnerving absence that I’d never quite felt before. This sensation was overwhelmingly empty and vast. Was this loneliness?
My lip quivered again, and I closed my eyes. I’d sleep, for now.
But I slept in solitude.