23
Valine had mentally excused herself, busying her mouth and hands with food and drink so as not to answer while her mind whirred. Magic wielders were in servitude, and Valine wondered how far that extended. Was it a punishment for criminals? Were they all unpaid? Was it forced bondage? These questions were rampant as she assessed the space and caught sight of a pair of mages working in tandem—a hydromancer and an aethermancer—cooling, humidifying, and circulating the air.
“Is it true that abortifacients are illegal in Runell?” Jacira asked suddenly, snapping Valine from her reverie. Valine realized the princess was asking her.
She took a sip of her plum wine to disguise her startle. “That is true. Contraceptive tonics and herbs are also outlawed.”
Jacira screwed up her pretty face in disgust. “So, what do Runellians do to prevent?”
“Pull out and pray,” Alastair quipped darkly.
Many disagreed with Runell’s laws regarding bodily autonomy and access to protection. Unfortunately, the king had the final say, and his word was law in the name of tradition—a tradition that Valencya fervently echoed and Adraali adamantly opposed. Their sentiments on same-sex relationships were similarly viewed.
Despite the fact that such restrictive proposals directly conflicted against the constitutions of the patrons, Runell persevered their archaic views. Their religion was that of the Old Faith. Of a god and his consort-wife, whose power was all, and his wife’s was subservience to him. They were the image in which Runellians were forced to uphold as the epitome of piety. Failure to follow in their steps and participation in sin ended with a punishment of eternal nothingness and madness. And in regards to the Old Faith, everything was a sin. Sex before marriage, alcohol that was not ceremonial wine, homosexual relationships, gender identities that did not align with those of birth, magic, adultery, blaspheming, treason, murder, theft, infidelity, infertility, abortion, contraceptives, disobeying one’s husband, being born a woman, aiding sinners. Valine knew she would have burned on nearly every account if she had believed. But, of course, the rules never applied to the men.
“Truly?”
“That, and tracking one’s cycle,” Valine supplied. “But that isn’t always reliable, so unfortunately, there are many bastards running amok.”
“I cannot imagine Runell participates in many orgies then. Us Tallohians must show you how a proper festival is celebrated. Contraceptives are freely offered and encouraged during such rites.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Alastair muttered into his drink, and Valine fell into a bout of laughter. “And if your solution to this problem is homosexual relations, I would agree, but such practices are also deemed criminal.”
Jacira’s mouth curled in horror, and Valine wondered how sheltered this princess was. She was raised on the backs of commoners and the blood of slaves. Surely, she understood the world was cruel and unfathomable?
“I must dissuade my father from adopting similar practices.”
“Why would he in the first place?” Valine questioned.
“It’s possible it may be conditional, but I assure you, I will not stand for such heinous censoring of a person.”
“I would think so, Jac, or you would be in mighty trouble if that were to pass,” Balchon commented, showing off painfully white teeth. Jacira stuck her tongue out, and Balchon continued. “It’s not like we haven’t all dabbled, and what is life without the flavor of curiosity to be sated?”
“I concur,” Alastair toasted, raising his glass.
Freyja and Sarim were distinctly quiet, nestled together with heads bowed, whispered conversation flowing between them. Alastair was being an esteemed conversationalist, while Valine was constantly examining every word. She should have been searching for secrets, but it was the Valmotti and ruinmancer that had Valine inspired. She could use them and whatever was budding between them to further their goals. She made a mental note to speak with them.
“This talk is so dreary!” Jacira lamented. “I propose a game!”
“Fantastic idea. What does Your Royal Highness suggest?” Alastair was truly carrying on the charade they needed, but the fact that the Runellian lordling was so fond of parties and debauchery—and an orgy or two—helped enhance his natural element.
“Truth or Drink. We ask each other a question, and you must answer or elect to drink. No topic is off limits!”
A chorus of enthusiasm spread through their group, agreements and eagerness threading behind devious eyes and devilish smiles. Even Sarim and Freyja seemed hooked on the idea. As a Tallohian custom, it was poor luck to use magic for amusement a fortnight prior to the festival, so in spirit of that, typical hired—or, in the case here, indentured—entertainments in the form of hydromancers and other mages had been halted.
Valine smiled from behind her drink. Mentally, she categorized how she was going to play the game; she would lie through her pearly whites, bits of truth stuck between the teeth of her falsifications. She would don the fa?ade the Desdemon name provided, casting a smokescreen of frivolity and caustic loveliness over her sharp edges. But the best lies came from the most honest truths, and Valine was prepared to lay herself bare.
“Freyja!” Jacira announced. “What is your favorite position?”
“No hesitation before getting into the sexual questions, hmm?” Freyja pondered, eyes quick as a flicker, glancing at Sarim. “I think I’ll have to say on top. I like being in control.”
“Excellent choice, now you ask someone else anything!” And Jacira actually clapped from her Runellian perch.
“Balchon, what is the hardest drug you’ve used?”
“Curious one, aren’t you? While it may come as a shock, I revere my body and consume only alcohol as a recreational substance…but I also smoke grass and dabble in opium and psilocybin. Ah fuck, I’ve also tried a little of everything.” He laughed at his proverbial list of drugs.
“A better question would have been what you haven’t tried,” Tallulah teased, leaning into the brunet.
“Valine,” Balchon bellowed, gunmetal gray eyes boring bullet holes into her. “How many people have you slept with?”
Valine smiled, a small, lethal thing. There was no need to lie when the truth would do. This was a harmless answer, and it would only do better to damage Runell’s image. “Thirty-six.” Balchon raised a brow and curled his lip in appreciation—she ignored him. Skewering a look across the garden, freesia and jasmine scenting the air, she met amber eyes. “Sarim, have you ever been in love?”
The Valmotti warrior hesitated, and Valine knew he was forcefully keeping his eyes trained on her, and not the woman at his side. The woman he so desperately wanted to look at when he wanted to answer. But instead, he drank.
Around the circle, the questions were asked, truths were spilled, and drinks were swallowed. Valine drank when she was asked about first loves, and lied when she was questioned about magic. She was careful with her questions, ensuring she wasn’t targeting the Tallohians unjustly, but cataloging their every answer.
“Jacira,” Alastair began drunkenly, “who gave you the best orgasm of your life?”
Jacira, equally drunk, leaned back against the vivacious redhead, her eyes glittering with drink. “Oh, definitely, Pandora. Gods, she does this thing with her tongue—” the princess visibly shivered in remembrance, “absolutely her.”
“Oh, you can’t just leave it at that!” Valine protested, the first fingers of alcohol grasping her. “What is this tongue maneuver that you speak of?”
Jacira grinned and downed the last of her drink. “I shall keep the secrets of oral sorcery to me and mine.”
Valine quirked a brow. “Is that an invitation?”
The crown princess pursued the assassin with liquid eyes, wet with alcohol and desire. “As delectable as you are, darling, I fear I must refuse and confess my monogamy. Pandora continues to be my partner to this day.”
Valine hummed in mock disappointment. “Please inform me should that change.”
She had never been with a woman when she wasn’t sharing a man. She had never pursued nor particularly desired one. It was astounding, truly, that she’d been an assassin for as long as she had and used sex to get to a male mark, yet sex hadn’t been a tool for the fairer sex. It was with Jacira she wondered if she had to employ such tactics, but in the same thought, Malik came to mind. Their argument on the bridge, his belief in her capabilities, the tender way he’d held her in the carriage. A knife twisted in her gut at the prospect of romantic and sexual pursuits—even should they be false—with anyone else.
“I will be sure to,” Jacira demurred, hiding a smile behind her suddenly refilled glass.
From the heart of the palace archway came a servant in ecru linen and a violet sash. He stopped before the assembled group, taking in the vices of alcohol and the spirals of smoke coming from the end of Balchon’s joint as he bowed quickly.
“A message from the king, Your Highness, Lordships, and Ladyships. Dinner will be served in the Zodiac Hall at seven o’clock sharp. Semi-formal attire is requested, and the meal will consist of three courses, a round of pre-dinner drinks, and dessert, which a bevy of post-meal drinks will be served.”
“Thank you, Radja. You are dismissed.”
“Good day, Your Highness.” Then, with another dip, the servant scurried off.
“Well,” Jacira began with a clap. “If we are due in just over an hour, then we must wrap this up and prepare. I do not believe in being tardy, as we should always respect the clock that the gods have set forth.”
“Yes, you are very much correct,” Alastair agreed, not daring to roll his eyes like Valine knew he wanted to. Both of them had been indoctrinated into a self-flagellating religion in Runell. It was no surprise they shared disdain over this one, too.
Quick farewells were bid, and the Tallohians departed in a flash of purple, gold, and white. The remainder were the Adraali crew, surrounding guards, and servants, including the enslaved mages. Valine caught their eyes, the tiredness that ringed them, the fatigue in the waver of their stances. They were burning themselves out, risking draining all for the comfort of cooled air for arrogant, pious royals.
Alastair offered Valine his arm as the group set out for the Vesper Wing.
“That was quite illuminating, wasn’t it, dear Valine?” Alastair murmured into her dark hair.
“More than you know,” she whispered as the set off, information tucked away like a list in her pocket. A list that was soon to rapidly grow.